#walk-Behind rollers

[aabidibrahim25]

When upgrading your compaction tools, evaluating the market for a walk behind roller compactor for sale can help you find the right match for tight spaces and smaller jobs. These compact machines combine dual vibrating drums and ergonomic controls to deliver reliable compaction of soil, gravel, and asphalt in areas like sidewalks, driveways, and patch repairs. Opting for a well-engineered roller compactor ensures efficient performance, reduced manual effort, and ease of transport. Prioritizing models with solid build quality, service support, and parts availability keeps your site operations smooth and productive.

[sonaconstruction01]

Walk behind roller compactor price in India

A walk behind roller is a straightforward, reliable machine used in construction projects for soil compaction. Its main function is to compact soil, ensuring a solid and stable base for roads, buildings, and other structures.

Key Features:

1. Simple Operation: Easy to use with minimal training required.

2. Effective Compaction: Provides consistent and even compaction for various soil types.

3. Durability: Built to withstand tough construction environments.

4. Maneuverability: Ideal for tight spaces where larger rollers can't reach.

5. Safety: Designed with safety features to protect the operator during use.

Benefits of Using a Walk Behind Roller:

- Enhanced Soil Stability: Ensures a firm foundation, reducing the risk of future settlement issues.

- Improved Project Quality: Consistent compaction leads to higher quality construction results.

- Cost-Effective: Lower initial investment compared to larger equipment, with reduced maintenance costs.

- Versatility: Suitable for various types of soil and different construction projects, from small pathways to large foundations.

In summary, a walk behind roller is an essential piece of equipment for any construction project requiring soil compaction. Its ease of use, durability, and effectiveness make it a valuable tool for achieving a stable and long-lasting foundation.

[dollychou]

❥ contents 。even though you're emotionally unstable because of your pregnancy, nanami is so patient and loving.

nanami is the picture perfect husband. he cares for you and tends to your every need without even a peep of a complaint. he spoils you so much that it's almost overwhelming — but you really have no gripe against it. he loves you wholeheartedly and you know it. he would pull down every star in the galaxy for you if you asked, and he'd do it endlessly.

and now that you're pregnant, he's been more attentive and caring than ever. you so much as let out a sigh and he's rushing to you, asking you how you're feeling, if there's anything you need, or if there's anything he can do for you. he always places a soft, delicate kiss to your knuckles, uttering a gentle 'i love you' each time.

these days, your hormones have been all over the place — one second you're giggling and giddy, and the next second you're bawling in his arms. the other day you were watching videos of cute little kittens on tiktok and then nanami walked into your shared bedroom and you started sniffling and gushing to him over the adorable creatures. in the next few seconds, your expression turned to one of annoyance as you harped on to your husband about how he wouldn't allow you to get one. he simply smiled, reminding you that you had never once asked him before for a pet kitten.

through your roller coaster of emotions, he has been so patient and lovely, caring for you and helping you ease any trouble you were experiencing.

"are you comfortable, sweetie?," he coos while he delicately rubs his hand over your bulging belly. he places a sweet kiss on it, humming softly to himself. he is always wondering and daydreaming about how pretty and cute your daughter will be when she's here — a reflection of the miracle you both created.

you groan in discomfort, shifting in the bed. nanami looks to you and furrows his eyebrows a bit in concern. before he gets the chance to say anything, you're crying to him, "ken, don't touch me right now! UGH! i feel so uncomfortable! when is this damn baby gonna come out of me?"

he lets out a small sigh as he makes you lean forward a bit as he positions a cushion behind you. "is this better, sweetheart?," he asks, fluffing up the cushion.

your eyes start welling up, a hand coming to cover your mouth. he notices the tears and his face turns to one of concern. "what's wrong? are you still uncomfortable? did i irritate you or anger you?," he asks.

you shake your head, sniffling lightly as you wipe away the tears that are streaming down. "no honey," you choke out. "it's just, i was so mean to you a second ago and you didn't even say anything. and-and, now you're taking care of me. you're just so sweet."

he gives you a gentle kiss, chuckling softly at your little outburst. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and his hand comes down to wipe the tears staining your face. he cups your face in his hands and says sweetly, "sweetheart, it's okay. i understand how difficult it can be. you don't need to apologise. i love you."

"i love you too," you croak out, a tiny pout on your lips.

he drapes an arm around you, pulling you into his embrace. there's a comfortable silence that falls between you two, his hands rubbing up and down you as a means to bring some comfort. you peer up at him, a doting look on your face. he looks back down at you, wearing the same sweet expression. "anything the matter, sweetheart?," he says, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

"no," you answer, trailing your finger over his torso. "i'm just wondering if our baby will have your eyes or mine."

he hums as he ponders on the question for a bit. "well, i really hope she has your eyes. you've got the prettiest ones i've seen and our daughter will be blessed if she inherits them too."

he hears you sniffling again and immediately asks you what's wrong, care and concern laced into his voice. you wave your hands dismissively as you squeak out, "you're just the sweetest man. it's too much." you bury your head in his chest, the tears soaking his top. a tender smile spread across his lips as he caresses your back while you sob.

it's been a tumultuous ride recently, with your emotions and hormones all over the place. he can't imagine how onerous it must be for you. but if there's anything he can do to help you through it all — no matter how small or big — he'll do it for you. all while wearing that delightful and pleasant smile on his face.

[cameronsbabydoll]

younger!ditzy reader x drew starkey … she does a day in the life with them on tiktok ? well techinally it’s supposed to be her day in life / grwm but he’ll pop in !

the tiktok starts with a blurry shot of your pink ceiling and a very chipper voice.

“okayyy good morning!! i’m gonna do a lil day in my life with my boyfriend but he’s still asleep so shhh—”

cut to: you tiptoeing past drew’s very bare back, tangled in your floral comforter. you zoom in on his ear. “look how cute.”

he groans off-camera. “babe, please.”

“okay sorry sorry!!”

next clip: you in your mirror, glitter rollers in your hair, a heart-shaped brush in your hand.

“i have like three outfit options,” you say. “but drew hates the cowboy boots with this mini skirt so i might wear it just to annoy him.”

cue drew’s voice from the hallway: “i heard that.”

there’s a clip of you doing your makeup—glossy lips, rhinestone clips, cream blush dotted on your cheeks like strawberries. drew walks by shirtless in the background, coffee in hand.

“you’re so hot,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow. “me?”

“no, me.”

“ah. yeah, accurate.”

you try to do a haul—“so this is my purse, i got it because it looks like a bunny—” but then drew literally picks you up mid-sentence and tosses you over his shoulder.

you’re screaming-laughing, and the caption reads:

me trying to be a girlboss vs my overgrown boyfriend

there’s a jump cut to you guys at the farmers market. you’re holding an iced matcha and trying to talk about the strawberries you bought, but drew’s feeding you one while you talk and it turns into a whole thing.

“stoppp, i’m filming,” you giggle.

“nah. open.”

“ugh you’re obsessed with me.”

“mhm.”

final clip: you in bed, makeup off, wearing his hoodie. you look into the camera and whisper,

“okay i think he’s finally asleep. i had so much fun today. should we do his day in the life next?”

drew mumbles behind you: “no.”

“he said yes!!!”

“no i didn’t—”

“okay love you bye!!!”

caption: ✨day in my life with my big hot bf✨ #ditzygf #boyfriendsoftiktok #grwm

[teaboot]

Kid behaviours that make me want to strangle their parents:

Riding bikes/scooters/skateboards/roller skates inside stores

Taking soda and candy off store shelves, eating or drinking part of it, then leaving the rest behind on a different shelf

Walking into a public building with food and drinks and then just leaving the garbage behind somewhere when you go

Playing a speaker on the bus

Playing a speaker in a shop

Playing a speaker in a library

Opening makeup and putting it directly onto your face and then putting it back on a shelf

Yelling slurs. Anywhere

Vaping. Like what the fuck you're like twelve what the hell does nobody care about you

Sticking gum to things

Littering on the street

Picking on bus drivers/janitors/minimum wage workers?????

Throwing shit at people

[sonaconstruction]

Walk Behind Double Drum Roller prices in India: Latest Prices

Sona Construction is a reputable company that offers a variety of construction equipment, including walk-behind double drum rollers. These rollers are essential for compacting soil, asphalt, and other materials in construction projects.

https://www.sonavibrators.com/product/41/ride-on-roller-smt850

[hollyoongs]

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐒𝐎... 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓? 𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 (TBR: JULY 5TH)

prólogo you were raised behind bulletproof glasss, luxury and polished speeches that got you bored every single time. The daughter of the President—the nation's sweetheart. Always elegant, charitable, untouched by scandal. A clear symbol of peace in a city rotting from the inside out. But the most wanted man alive that watched you through the tv doesn't buy the act.

elenco joker!heeseung and daughter's president fem!reader

género smut with plot

antes de leer since it's something new I'm trying, the normal kinks I write will get heavier as I implemented: the use of knife play, heavy choking, exhibitionism, heavy humiliation, blood play. If you don't like this type of story, then calmly leave as you wait for other stories in my page

# palabras +800 (est. +10k)

Your head was starting to hurt; flashbulbs exploded in rhythmic bursts, as if they wanted to drown the room in white.

You stood at the podium with your smile rehearsed, shoulders straight and perfectly neat hair, giving the press and your father exactly what they came for after his speech.

"As always," you start off, "I'm so glad that my father is deeply compromised with this beautiful country as well as the overwhelming support of the citizens. Our mission remains the same—to restore peace, safety, and hope to those countries. Because we deserve it."

The room clapped, and you did a small bow, your eyes flicking over the sea of suits and cameras as you tried not to linger. You delivered answers to foreign policy, crime spikes, and rumored threats the government was trying to exterminate.

"Miss, if I may?" Your voice turned slightly toward the man standing near the front row. You recognized him as Park Jongseong, from Belift News.

"Yes, Mister Park?"

"Any comment on the Joker's latest stunt? Twenty officers are dead in District 7, and he left a note—addressed to you."

The air shifted, the room hushed, and whispers started to get obvious as they waited for an answer.

Nonetheless, your soft smile didn't drop. "The man you're referring to is a domestic terrorist, not a celebrity. My family and this administration refuse to dignify his theatrics with personal attention."

"So you're saying it wasn't meant for you?"

Then it was the fucking bait.

You could feel yourself getting warmer, fingers curled slightly around the edges of the podium. Your jaw tightened—barely showing any emotion. You let out a small chuckle.

"I'm saying that lunatics crave attention. And this clown in particular doesn't deserve mine." Your response earned several murmurs from the room—some approval, some unease. Your gaze travelled across the room, and that's when you saw him.

It was a second, maybe even less, to the man at the far back slouched in a dark coat. No press badge hanging around his neck or a notepad and pen in his hands. He was simply smiling, right at you.

You held your poise, gave the usual thank-you, and stepped down from the podium. But even as your security ushered you away, even as the applause resumed and the questions dissolved behind you, your mind buzzed.

By the time you made it down the long hall with the tapping noise of your shiny clean heels as background noise, your nerves were like a roller coaster. You entered your dressing room and shut the door behind you, dead silence as you rested your body against the door, shutting your eyes.

"You got shook."

Your heart dropped at the voice of Heeseung; he stepped out from the shadows, twirling a small knife between his fingers like it weighed nothing. His smile was as practiced as yours, no soul in it.

"Just once," he said, gaze raking down your body, "but I saw it."

A genuine smile left your lips as you walked to him; you pressed your body against his, arms draping around his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Baby!" you whispered. Heeseung raised a brow, that eerie grin still carved into his face. "Are you playing nice now, sweetheart?"

"I've missed you." His hand found your waist, casual with the slightest touch of tenderness.

"You just told a room full of reporters I was nothing."

The knife in his hand went behind you, dipping lower, tracing the curve of your spine through your tailored blouse, not a single cut in it, although he wanted to do it. You knew it.

Your lips brushed his jaw. "Didn't say I didn't think about you, Daddy." After you said that, his lips took dominance over yours. Rough and needy, as if he didn't fuck the life out of you a couple hours before.

"You know I hate lies, sweetheart."

His words were murmured into your mouth as his tongue swept past your lips like he owned the air you breathed. You gasped into the kiss but didn’t pull away.

You never did. Not from him.

Not when his fingers clutched at your hips like his life depended on it. Not when that damn knife was still ghosting over your spine to remind you that he could cut if he wanted. That he might, if you said the wrong thing.

“That wasn’t a lie,” you whispered against his lips. “Just politics.”

He laughed—a sharp and quiet one. “You think I care about politics? You think I give a single fuck what you say behind a podium when I can still taste your cunt on my tongue from this morning?”

You let out a moan when a smack landed on your clothed pussy, hating that he could hear it. Hated that it gave him satisfaction.

Because it did. His grin widened.

“Thought so.” He shoved you against the vanity table, and it rattled under the impact. Somewhere, a compact case hit the floor and cracked open.

You didn't care, putting more focus on how your nails sank into his back and the way his hands shoved your skirt up with no regard for modesty.

You moaned for a monster, letting yourself be ruined... again.

─── TY CONCEPT PHOTOS FOR THIS! had to cut the teaser up a little bc it was getting LONG long, but I'M actually really excited for this one, hope you all bounce up for this one tho

𓄴 TAGLIST (OPEN): @hoonprksung @ziiao @rikimuraaaa @enhxlvr @jngwonu @deobitifull @isagistar @immelissaaa @rosepetals09 @sofiafromvenus @goldendwann @ivyleyun @chvconn3 @iilyri @nshmrarki @jungwoneez @meiskra @filmnings @minniejenseo @fancypeacepersona @sqaerl @stercul1a @mrsjohnnysuh @iveivory @prttygrl-world @heejakeyy07whtv @armybomb-infires

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 50: Flashback

Summary: You face down a nightmare as your life starts to move forward.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,371 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, unsafe bondage practices (don't do this), restraints, creampies, overstimulation, squirting, angst, flashbacks, panic attack, PTSD, angst, emotions, language

A/N: Sorry this one took so long but it kicked my ass. Also sorry for the emotional roller coaster...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s cold, the wind strong enough to whip sand at your legs. You don’t care, treading through the soft white sand towards the darker, firmer wet sand. Your hands are shoved in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm, and the closer you get to the water, the more you can feel it in the air, whipping around you.

“Don’t go too far.” A voice carries on the wind, John treading behind you in the sand.

“Yes, dad.” You roll your eyes, ignoring him to walk along the water’s edge. The beach is empty, as would be expected on such a day. Even though spring is on the horizon, it’s still not nice enough weather for the tourists.

Even today was a lucky break from the rain that fell for two days straight leaving muddy puddles everywhere.

They only let you come down here because you know you’re leaving soon. The time has come, the inevitable return must happen now. There’s nothing keeping you here, and life has to move forward. As much as you’d prefer to stay here, the last thing you need is for your pack to get hit with AWOL or even desertion charges. Kate can only keep things this way for so long, and now that the threat is gone, the excuses are wearing thin. They’re still part of the military, they still have their duties.

John has to go back while he waits for his retirement to be processed. He has things he has to do to make that possible, things he has to close, things he has to pass on to Simon. Kyle has to wait until his gets filed and approved. And you have to go back with them until it’s over.

You’re not happy.

You won’t be happy until you can put that place behind you for good.

Arms wrap around you and you swing blindly, jumping with a yelp.

“Bloody hell, stop.”

You’re breathing heavily, heart thudding in your chest. You hadn’t even heard Simon approaching, too lost in your head again.

“Scared the shit out of me.” You breathe.

“Shouldn’t be so lost in your head.” He says. “You think we’d let some random person approach you?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Nice job, though. Swing first, ask questions later. Need to work on your swing again, though.” He says, keeping his arms around you. “Barely felt it.”

“Rude.” You pout, turning your gaze back to the sea.

“We’re heading back now. ‘S too cold out here. You’ll get sick.”

You don’t want to go. You’d stand out here all day if you could, watch the tide come and go. You know they wouldn’t let you. Too many risks.

“But I don’t want to.” You deepen your pout, blinking up at him with the best puppy-eyes you can give.

“But you have to.” He says, unwavered by your cuteness.

“No.” You say, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“Yes.” He says, adjusting his hold on you.

You’re flying for a moment before you end up draped over his shoulder. “Hey!” You yell, trying to kick his stomach. “That’s not fair.”

“Should have listened.” He says, carrying you back through the sand.

You tilt your head up, staring back at the sea while it slowly gets further and further away. It might be your last chance to see it up close for a long time.

“Help me,” You plead as you pass by Johnny.

The Scot only shrugs. “Sorry, cannae help ye, kitten.”

You let out a frustrated groan but go limp on Simon’s shoulder, knowing there’s no changing their minds. You’re not sure you could even get them to convince Simon to let you down. You’re going to be carried back to the car whether you like it or not.

Some deep part of you enjoys it.

You’re self soothing.

That’s what you tell yourself as you mix the batter in the bowl. You’re waiting for the moment when John tells you to start packing, that you’re leaving this safe haven to return to the brutal world you left months ago that you hoped maybe by some small mercy you might be able to avoid going back to. How silly that thought was, though. Of course you’d wind up back there no matter what, even with John retiring.

You jump when hands close around your waist, squeezing gently as a body presses up against your back.

“That bowl insult you or somethin’?” Johnny breathes into your ear, lips brushing the skin. “Been staring at it like it placed a curse on ye.”

You shake your head, going back to mixing the batter. “No. Just got lost in thought.”

Johnny hums, pressing kisses to the skin behind your ear. “Anythin’ important?”

You could tell him the truth, but it will ruin the moment. He’s in a playful mood and the last thing you want is to bring him down. “No.” You say, pushing him back so you can turn in his arms, the bowl of batter in your hands. “Just thinking about how tasty these brownies will be.”

He stares down into the chocolate mixture in the bowl before looking back at you. “Mama’s recipe?”

“Of course.” You say, trying to wiggle out of his hold but he doesn’t let go.

“Bless.” He almost moans, slipping a finger into the batter before sticking it into his mouth. He does moan as he tastes the batter, slowly pulling his finger from his mouth to savor it. “Delicious even raw.”

You make a face, pulling the bowl out of his reach before he can dip his finger in again. “No eating it all before it gets baked.”

“C’mon just another taste.” He whines, trying to reach around you as you shove your hip into his stomach to push him away.

“You can have one once their done.” You slip around him, stepping up to the stove to dump the batter into the pan.

“Please let me lick the bowl.” He says, saddling up against your back again.

You roll your eyes, smoothing the batter before turning back to him. “Here.” You reach into the bowl, gathering some of the leftover batter onto your finger before wiping it on his nose.

He goes crosseyed as he stares at it, taking a step back. “That’s not fair.”

“You wanted some.” You hum, putting the brownie pan into the oven before setting the bowl in the sink.

“What are you two getting up to?” Kyle asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Getting harassed for brownie batter.” You say, filling up the bowl with water so he can’t steal anymore.

“’M not harassing her.” Johnny says, gathering some of the batter on his nose onto his finger.

Kyle raises a brow, staring at him. “Right.” He takes a step forward, crowding into Johnny’s space. “Here.” He grabs Johnny’s jaw, fingers dimpling into his cheeks as he holds him still. Kyle leans in, licking the rest of the batter off his nose.

Your lips fall open as you watch them, warmth starting to pool in your stomach as Kyle cleans the batter off Johnny’s face. “Fuck…” You breathe, watching as Kyle leans in, giving Johnny a soft kiss before releasing him.

“Think she liked tha���.” Johnny breathes, still staring at Kyle.

Kyle inhales deeply, his lips twisting up in a smirk. “Think she did.” He steps closer to Johnny, putting his hands on his waist. “Should put you on your knees right here you needy whore.”

Johnny lets out a deep groan, your face starting to get hot as you watch them.

“Look at you.” Kyle groans, his hand pressing against the front of Johnny’s pants. “Already so worked up.”

“’S not fair, I havenae gotten any yet.” Johnny whines, pushing his hips up against Kyle’s hand.

“You just have to be patient.” Kyle scolds him.

“Fuck being patient.” Johnny growls, turning on you.

He crowds you back into the counter, looming over you. You can smell the sweet chocolate on his breath as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. He hums, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he kisses you hard, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, his hands finding your hips to lift you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as you can. You can feel his bulge pressed right up against the seam of your jeans from this angle, his hips starting to rock slowly against yours. He’s desperate for any friction he can get, whining needily into your mouth.

“Fuck…” Kyle groans, stepping up behind Johnny, pressing his chest against his back.

Johnny’s hands slide down your sides until they reach the waistband of your jeans. “Of all days tae wear jeans.” Johnny groans, fumbling with the button.

You bat his hands away, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down. He wastes no time, batting your hands away this time, sinking one of them into your pants. You moan against his lips as his fingers push against your folds, already slick with arousal. He nips at your bottom lip as Kyle’s hand flattens against the bulge in his pants, letting out a quiet moan as his hips press into the other man’s hand.

He wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into you, a moan slipping out at the stretch. His fingers press deep into you, your hips shifting to push against his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Johnny groans, his own hips rocking against Kyle’s hand.

A moan leaves your lips as Johnny’s fingers curl inside of you, pushing up against that spot. Your hips jerk, sliding closer to the edge of the counter to give him more room. His fingers move inside of you, thrusting in and out as his palm pushes up against your clit. Pleasure is blooming in your abdomen, racing outwards to your fingers and toes as Johnny moans against your lips.

You could cum just like this, and you might have, had there not been an interruption.

“Can’t leave you three alone for five minutes.” Simon’s deep voice ruins the moment.

Kyle backs away from Johnny, adjusting his own pants. Johnny lets out a whine, fingers still stuffed inside of you.

“Right where we make food, too.” Simon sighs, tugging Johnny away from you. You let out a whine as his fingers are tugged from your pussy.

There’s a bulge in the front of Johnny’s jeans, clearly evident through the thick fabric. Simon lifts Johnny’s hand to his face, his fingers shiny with your arousal. He sucks the digits into his mouth, Johnny nearly crumpling to the floor.

Simon hums appreciatively, licking Johnny’s fingers clean before releasing his beta. He approaches you, looming over you as you sit on the counter. You stare up at him with innocent eyes, trying to read his face, but once again he’s an emotionless mask. His hands grip your hips, lifting you down off the counter.

“Don’t want the brownies to burn.” He murmurs, zipping and buttoning your jeans for you.

“They wouldn’t have burned.” You pout, staring up at him.

“You really think Johnny could have stopped himself at a quick fingering?” Simon tilts his head.

“No.” You say quickly. He’s been chomping at the bit for a chance to get at you these last couple days. You’re certain if Simon hadn’t interrupted you’d be bent over the counter with your jeans around your ankles.

“Finish the brownies first.” Simon says, leaning down to kiss you.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur against his lips.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his scent starts to thicken in the air.

“Little shit.”

It’s quiet in the cottage. John, Kyle, and Johnny are upstairs doing lord knows what, and Simon is on the couch across from you. Both of you are reading, happily sitting in silence aside from the occasional pop and crackle from the fire. It’s nice, this brief moment of quiet and stillness. The cottage has started to feel small and overwhelming, alive with energy all day. Not that it hasn’t been that way for a while, but perhaps it’s just your brain looking for a way to cope with the reality that you’ll be leaving soon. Looking for some negative to attach to this safe space.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, your eyes glancing up over your book to find Johnny hurrying into the living area. He beelines for you, pulling the book out of your hands.

“Hey!” You complain, reaching for it but he’s faster, tossing it on the coffee table before bending down.

Suddenly you’re in the air, Johnny’s arms wrapped around you as he hefts you over his broad shoulder. You cling to his shirt as he adjusts you, his hand patting your ass.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” You ask, staring at Simon as Johnny turns.

Simon simply smirks, watching Johnny as he heads for your room.

“Don’t break her!” Is all Simon says, giving you a little wave before he disappears around the door frame.

You land on your back on the bed, bouncing just a little as Johnny dumps you there. He flicks on the lamp after closing the door, before moving to stand in front of you. You lift yourself up onto your elbows, eyes trailing his body. He’s hard, the bulge evident as it pushes against his jeans. Your eyes trail further upward until you’re staring at his face, his eyes dark and hooded as they stare down at you.

“Finally.” He says, his hands dropping to your thighs. “I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“I know.” You say, your stomach clenching in excitement. You’re going to be tired tomorrow but that’s alright. You’ve got nothing better to do besides sleep.

“Much as I don’t want to,” His hands squeeze your thighs. “I’m gonnae take my time.”

A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a promise. You know he’s telling the truth. Johnny doesn’t play when it comes to sex.

His hands trail up your legs until they’re teasing the bottom of your shorts. He plays with the fabric there for a moment before sliding his hands higher to your waist. Your toes curl in anticipation as he dips his fingers beneath the waistband. Goosebumps break out across your skin as his warm fingers slide higher under your shirt, trailing up over your ribs to your breasts.

He groans as his fingers brush the undersides of your breasts. “No bra?”

“No point in one,” you breathe, nipples hardening in anticipation.

He breathes out a curse, pushing your shirt up over your breasts. He doesn’t bother taking it all the way off, leaving it there bunched up around your neck. His hands cup your breasts gently, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“Perfect fuckin’ tits.” He groans, squeezing them in his hands.

“Thank you.” You say breathlessly, arching your back to push them more into his hands.

He chuckles, his thumbs brushing over your nipple. A heavy breath leaves your mouth at the sensation against the sensitive bud. Johnny’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he pinches your nipple, tugging on it lightly. There’s a burst of pleasure and a hint of pain that has your stomach clenching again. He tugs on it harder, a sound leaving your mouth at the intense sensation.

Johnny hums in response, leaning his body down over you. His fingers release your nipple, his tongue instead flicking over the bud. You gasp at the warm, wet sensation the cool air in the room cooling the dampness on your nipple, making it harden.

“There ye go.” Johnny says, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud to suckle at it.

His hand cups your other breast, his fingers tugging at your other nipple. The combined sensations has warmth pooling in your stomach, the pleasure from the stimulation coursing through your body. You never thought you could cum just from someone playing with your breasts before, but Johnny continues to try and make that a reality.

“Johnny,” You sigh, running your fingers through his short-cropped mohawk. “Feels good.”

He hums, continuing to suckle at your nipple, his fingers pinching and twisting the other. Your panties are quickly dampening, pleasure shooting from your nipples straight between your legs. His teeth scrape against your nipple, a gasp leaving your lips from the intense sensation. They’re starting to get sensitive, aching and burning but you can’t deny the pleasure still coursing through you from Johnny’s ministrations.

Quiet moans leave your lips as Johnny continues to tease your breasts, pleasure building deep in your stomach. Your legs lift, squeezing around Johnny’s waist as he leans over you. Your hips press upward, grinding against the front of his jeans to try and get more friction against your pulsing clit.

Despite the discomfort you can feel yourself starting to tiptoe towards the edge the more Johnny continues to play with your breasts. You can’t believe it, how good it feels, how quickly you’re approaching an orgasm just from Johnny’s mouth on your nipple.

He sucks hard, lifting his head to tug at your nipple with his mouth. You moan from the pleasure and the pain, his other hand tugging hard at your other nipple.

“Johnny,” You gasp, fingers curling in his hair as your pussy begins to pulse. “F-fuck…”

“C’mon.” He goads you, switching nipples to suck on the other.

Your legs start to tremble, squeezing hard around his hips as your own push up against his jeans. You’re grinding against him needily, pushing yourself closer and closer to the looming edge of pleasure.

His teeth sink into your nipple, biting lightly. Your entire body shudders, hand tugging hard at his hair as a half yelp, half moan leaves your lips. He sucks hard at your nipple, tugging hard on the other and you’re cumming, soaking your underwear.

Johnny suckles at your nipple for just a moment more, until you’re tugging at his hair, lifting his head from the over-sensitive nub. You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling as your pussy flutters from your orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises you, leaning up to kiss you before he’s sliding down your body, heading straight between your legs. He tugs your shorts down, tossing them somewhere behind him as he presses your legs up. “Look at that.”

He leans down, pressing his face against your panties. He takes a deep breath in, your lips parting in surprise as he buries himself quite literally in your pussy. You’re not quite sure how he’s breathing, but you can feel the warm exhales against your damp panties. He lets out a low groan, teeth tugging at the fabric for a moment before he sits back up straight.

He pushes your legs up farther, moving your hands to the backs of your thighs. “Hold those fer me.”

His thumb drags along the fabric of your panties, pressing hard until he reaches your clit. You sink your teeth into your lip as he pushes his thumb against it, making small, tight circles through the fabric. The friction against your clit has your pussy dampening again, nails biting into your skin from the sensation. He really wasn’t kidding about taking his time. You’ve never seen him quite so patient before. You thought he’d be quick and desperate just like he was when he ate you out on the table in front of your pack.

The thought of that moment has your sensitive nipples hardening, more slick starting to soak your panties. What you wouldn’t have given to let them all have a taste, one right after the other. You’d have let them do anything to you in that moment.

When you sat up and realized no one had their cock out, it had disappointed you a bit. Was Johnny eating you out not enough of a show?

Johnny continues to rub your clit through your panties, slow, methodical circles that drag the fabric against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning quietly, still holding your thighs apart for him. Your panties are fully damp now, his eyes glued to where the fabric has darkened.

He moves his hand from your clit, a disappointed sound leaving your lips. He grips your underwear, tugging upwards and stretching the fabric until it’s tight against your pussy. It’s pushing against your clit, your hips pressing upwards, seeking out friction.

“Fucking Christ.” Johnny moans, releasing your underwear only to grab the waistband and pull until the fabric snaps into pieces.

“Johnny!” You complain, releasing your thighs to push yourself up onto your elbows.

“I’ll buy ye a new pair.” Is all he says, his hands parting your thighs again, forcing you flat on your back once more.

His hands push your thighs apart until they can’t go any further, tense against the strain on your muscles and ligaments. He stares down at your pussy, spread open for him. He licks his lips, hands firm against the backs of your thighs as he lowers himself down, hot breath fanning against your slick folds.

He mumbles out a curse as he presses his face against your pussy, uninhibited by the fabric of your panties this time. He hums, his tongue darting out to press into you just slightly. You let out a quiet sound, lifting your head to stare at him.

He lets out a sigh before lifting his face, pressing his tongue into you as far as it can you. You whine at the sensation, legs pressing against his hands in an attempt to close them around his head. He’s stronger than you though, his hands keeping you spread open wide for him.

His tongue continues to dip into you, drinking your slick straight from the source. The sounds he’s making are obscene, slurping at your pussy like he’s parched. In a way he is, having been denied this opportunity for days, at least until he buried his face in your pussy on the table. Your toes curl at the memory, your hand dropping to grip his mohawk. He groans as you tug at the short strands, pressing your hips up against his face. You’re the one trying to drown him now, but it feels too good for you to care much about his own safety.

You doubt he cares either, not from the way he’s thrusting his tongue into you.

It’s not quite enough, though. You need more, your pulsing clit feeling neglected. You reach a hand down, fingers brushing over the sensitive bud in an attempt to finally ease some of the pressure, but his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist.

He tsks, squeezing your wrist in his hand. “Naughty little kitten. What am I gonnae do with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, letting out a contemplative hum before he’s standing, his hands falling to your waist to flip you over. He grabs your wrists in his hand, the other unbuckling his belt. Excitement and nerves flush through you as you feel the leather against your skin, Johnny tying your hands behind your back with his belt. He slips a finger under the leather to make sure it’s not too tight before he’s forcing you forward, your cheek pressed against the mattress as he hikes your ass up into the air.

“Maybe this’ll teach ye.” He says, patting your ass before he kneels down behind you.

He buries his face in your pussy once more, a muffled moan leaving your lips as he drags his tongue through your folds, finally reaching your clit. He wraps his lips around it, suckling it like he did your nipples. Pleasure courses through your body, your hands tugging at the belt instinctively.

He drags his tongue through your folds again before swirling his tongue around your clit. Your legs jerk, the neglected bud finally getting the attention she deserves. You’re soaked, dripping slick and coating his face in it, not that he really cares. He’s probably enjoying it. You can tell by the way he’s moaning into your pussy, eating it like a man starved.

Your legs are already shaking, knees trembling where they’re holding you up. Johnny’s hands are on your ass, keeping you spread open for his tongue. Pleasure is pooling in your stomach, your sensitive body quickly hurtling towards another orgasm.

Johnny sucks hard on your clit, his teeth scraping against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning into the mattress, hips pressing back against his face as your orgasm rapidly approaches you.

It slams into you like a truck, your legs nearly giving out as pleasure courses through you. Johnny’s hands hold you up, his tongue dipping into you as you cum on his face. He thrusts his tongue into you, lapping up every last drop as you gush around him, shaking and moaning in pleasure.

Johnny moans into you, his fingers dimpling your skin as he holds onto you, still lapping at your pussy.

You’re quickly approaching overstimulation, hips pushing back against Johnny’s face. “Johnny,” you gasp, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

He holds you there, his thumb dropping to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine, writhing against his hold as more pleasure burns from your clit straight through your veins. You can’t stop shaking, sweat beading on your skin as you’re pushed more and more towards another orgasm.

Johnny is moaning like a whore, still fucking you with his tongue as you cum again. His hands hold you up as your knees slip over the edge of the bed, your body unable to function after another orgasm.

He finally relents as you start begging for mercy, dragging his tongue through your folds one last time before he legs your body drop onto the bed on your stomach.

“Screamin’ Jesus.” He breathes, his hand resting on your ass. “’Bout did me in.”

His hips press against your ass, rutting just slightly. The drag of his jeans against your bare skin offers a delicious friction, not enough to hurt but just enough to leave your skin burning.

You turn your head, neck straining as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Gonna fuck me or just rut against me like a teenager?”

Johnny’s movements pause as he stands there for a moment, hands indenting the mattress by your hips. Those hands move to your waist, sliding down your skin as he pushes himself up to stand. His hands land on your ass, kneading the skin before he slaps one cheek. “Got a mouth on ye. I like it.”

You hear rustling and the zipper of his jeans sliding down as he takes a step back from you. There’s a soft thud as the fabric gets tossed to the floor along with his boxers. He steps back up to you, legs framing yours as he pushes you further up the bed until your clit rests against the edge of the mattress. You let out a quiet sound as his fingers drag up your folds, two of them dipping into you.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, pressing those fingers as deep as he can. Your pussy is still fluttering from your orgasm, squeezing around his fingers.

He slowly begins to thrust them into you, pushing your clit against the comforter with every press of his hand. You whimper, the overstimulated bud pulsing from the pressure. It almost hurts, the overwhelming sensation of the stretch of Johnny’s fingers and the pressure against your clit.

Johnny pushes his fingers downward as he thrusts them into you, brushing up against that spot inside of you. You’re not sure how much more you can take, your legs already shaking from the sensitivity in your body. You’re going to cum again quickly, you know it. Your body has never felt so sensitive before, every inch of you alive with electricity. Your nipples are raw where they press into the comforter, your clit throbbing as its pushed against the edge of the mattress, your pussy clenching tight around the delicious stretch of Johnny’s fingers, the digits hitting every spot inside of you as they can.

Your head is reeling, mind foggy. Your shoulders ache but the pleasure is quickly blotting that pain out, hands pressing against the leather of the belt around your wrists as you get closer and closer to the edge. You can feel it, the building of the pressure, the warmth pooling between your thighs. You’re about to gush around Johnny’s fingers, hurtling straight towards a fourth orgasm and he hasn’t even stuck his dick inside of you yet.

Your back arches, pushing your head up as you cum, legs giving out again as another orgasm rocks through you. It’s almost painful, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s hand. His free hand rubs your back, trailing over the sweat-slick skin.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling his fingers free from your pussy. You hear the slick sound of slapping skin for a moment before something wet hits the backs of your thighs.

You lay there for a moment, feeling the viscous fluid start to slide down your skin. “Did you just cum?” You ask, voice slightly muffled where your face is pressed into the mattress.

“Couldnae stand it anymore.” Johnny says, panting slightly.

Fuck, you think. He got so worked up just touching you he’s cum already.

What a whore.

Fabric touches the backs of your legs, Johnny wiping his cum off your skin with his boxers before tossing them to the floor again. The strain on your shoulders eases away as the leather gets pulled from your wrists. You let out a sigh, letting your arms flop to your sides.

“Easy,” Johnny mumbles, leaning over you to rub your shoulders. You can feel him, still hard and pressed against your ass. Of course he’s still hard. Johnny’s stamina is near legendary.

He massages your shoulders for a moment before his hands fall to your waist, gently easing you over. He takes your hands, pulling your arms up towards him to stretch them the opposite way. You sigh at the stretch, the joints popping after being forced in one direction for so long. He gently rubs your wrists, raw and sore from tugging on the leather.

He presses a kiss to each palm before letting your arms drop. He bends over you, hands pressing into the bed on either side of your head. He stares down at you for a long moment, and you stare right back into those bright blue eyes. “Ye ready fer more?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk.

Your pussy clenches at the prospect of what’s hiding behind that playful grin.

You nod, taking a deep breath in. Your legs are still shaking, but you think they’ll be permanently stuck that way after tonight.

Johnny pushes you up the bed before crawling onto the mattress. He grabs a pillow, slipping it under your hips to prop you up before he’s kneeling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, blunt nails scratching at the skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Ready?” He asks, his hands sliding to your hips, his fingers wrapping around them.

You let out a breath before nodding.

“Use yer words.” He says, a shiver running down your spine.

So he’s playing dominant tonight.

“Yes, sir.” You say, your pussy clenching at the look that flashes through his eyes.

“Gonnae kill me.” He grunts, his hand releasing your hips to fist his cock.

He drags the head of his cock up along your folds, slick and wet still despite the numerous orgasms you’ve already had. You’re in for a lot more before tomorrow, you think.

Your head tilts back at the stretch as he pushes his cock into you, the thick head pushing through the slight resistance your overstimulated walls offer. You whine, hands clutching the sheets just from the feel of him stretching you open. He’s barely moved and you’re already pulsing, pussy squeezing around him as he pushes into you. He presses his hips forward, pushing more and more into you, your pussy gaping around his girthy cock.

“Fuck…” He groans, bending his body over you as he continues to push into you, fighting the slight resistance as he seeks to sink as deep as he can, until your hips are flush.

You’re panting, sweat still slicking your skin as he finally gets there, hips pressed tight against yours. He’s so deep inside of you, filling your pussy so perfectly. A perfect cock, you think. They’re all so perfect, but Johnny especially. How you’ve missed him and his ability to wield it.

You almost regret making him wait until last.

Johnny folds his body over you, shifting his position inside of you. You let out a moan as he lays himself against your chest, his lips pressing against yours. You kiss him, pressing your tongue into his mouth. You can still taste yourself a bit on his tongue, sweet and musky. He groans against your lips as you flutter around him, squeezing his cock.

“Fuckin’ love ye.” He grunts, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Love you too.” You breathe, tangling a hand in his mohawk and tugging. He lets out a groan, his hips shifting just slightly against you.

He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up onto his knees. He looms there over you, his hands sliding down your sides until they reach your waist. He grips you tightly as he starts to rock his hips. You lay there, staring up at his face as he moves, slowly thrusting into you. You can feel him deep inside of you, his cock dragging against that spot with every thrust. You’re not going to last long, not with how sensitive you are. You don’t imagine he’ll last long either, not with the way he’s already twitching inside of you.

He keeps his pace steady, thrusts slow and even as he does as he promised, taking his time with you. He’s trying to savor every moment, almost like he thinks he’s not going to get this chance again. He certainly will. You know he’s most likely to pull you into his room and fuck the life out of you on a whim.

You think back to all those quickies before he had to go train, all those quickies before meals, those nights he’d pull you into his room in the barracks and bend you over his bed until your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. The amount of times he ate you out in the rec room, pants down around your ankles as he knelt on the floor.

Spontaneity is Johnny’s middle name.

Johnny starts to pick up speed, thrusting his hips faster against yours. His strokes are deep and even, cock pushing up against you over and over again. You’re already trembling, back slick with sweat and dampening the comforter under you. You can see the sweat beading on Johnny’s forehead as he continues to pick up the pace, the room hot and stinking of sex from your activities.

Neither of you last long, your legs shaking with an orgasm quickly, over-sensitive pussy fluttering around Johnny’s cock. He’s not far behind you, moaning as his body folds over yours as he spills into you. That doesn’t stop him, though, his hips still rocking into you as he fills you.

His hands press into the mattress by your shoulders, his hips grinding into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. You can already feel the burn of overstimulation approaching, the uncontrollable shaking and clenching of your limbs overtaking you.

“Johnny, Johnny,” You whimper his name like a prayer, his hips rhythmically snapping against yours. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even falter as he continues to fuck you. “Please…” You whine, reaching up for him.

He bends his body down, letting your arms wrap around his neck as he continues to snap his hips against yours. “C’mon.” He groans, his teeth scraping your jaw. “One more.”

Another orgasm slams into you, your legs shaking and squeezing around his sides as your entire body writhes under him. He groans loudly in your ear, his hips finally stuttering before he cums again, filling you up until his cum is leaking out around his cock.

His hips still, his body resting against yours. He presses his face into your neck, your head tilting to give him more space. Both of you are slicked with sweat, breathing heavily. You lay there still for a moment, your body still trembling

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, kitten.” He breathes, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You giggle, squeezing your arms around him. “That good, huh?”

“And more.” He says, letting his weight pin you down for another moment before he pushes himself up to his knees again.

His cock slips out of you, his cum following as it drips onto the pillow under your hips. His fingers gather it before he’s pushing them inside you, pushing his cum back into your pussy.

He chuckles as your mouth drops open, his fingers pushing against your still fluttering walls. “What, thought ye were done?”

You gulp, staring up at that playful grin and those shining eyes. Of course you’re not done. You’re just getting started.

There’s a slickness between your thighs when you wake. You press your legs together but find resistance. Something vibrates through you, your body shuddering on instinct. It takes a moment, but your brain begins to wake up, becoming aware of your surroundings, and what’s happening to your body.

Your hand drifts down, sinking into the short-cropped mohawk. Your legs squeeze against Johnny’s head again, his mouth suckling at your clit lazily. “Johnny?” You breathe sleepily.

“Mornin’ kitten.” He murmurs against your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit again.

You moan, tugging at his hair. How long has he been down there? A while, you think, judging by how wet you are already. Your pussy is sore after last night, but still pleasure blooms in your core. It’s nearly overstimulating, bordering on that painful edge that’s loomed since last night. Johnny has pushed your body beyond what you thought it could handle, making every inch of you sensitive to every little stimulation.

“Gonna cum,” you whine, stomach tensing in anticipation of the pleasure building inside of you.

“Cum fer me.” Johnny almost commands, biting down softly on your clit.

Your hips jerk at the near painful sensation, your legs squeezing so hard around Johnny’s head you’re almost worried you’re hurting him. He offers no complaint, though, sucking hard enough on your clit you almost see stars.

Your hips lift off the bed, pressing your pussy against his face as you cum. Your hands tug at the sheets, heels digging into his back. Johnny sinks his teeth into your inner thigh, grinding against the bed. You yelp as his teeth sink into the sensitive skin, your body jerking from the pinch of pain.

He soothes the spot with a kiss, trailing kisses down your thigh back to your pussy. He offers you no respite, no break longer than he’s already given you, his tongue immediately back to your clit. Your legs jerk as his tongue drags across the overly-sensitive bud, the sensation almost painful after so long.

“Johnny,” You whine, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t let up, starting to suckle at your clit again. “Please…” You whimper against the almost painful sensation.

Your head turns as the door opens, Simon’s big form looming in the doorway. His eyes narrow as he stares at your position, Johnny ignoring him as he continues to suck on your clit.

Simon steps forward, moving towards the bed. “Going to let the bird eat breakfast?” He asks, pausing at the edge of the mattress.

“When I’m done.” Johnny murmurs from between your thighs, sucking hard on your clit.

You yelp, legs shaking from the painful pleasure. Simon’s hand brushes yours away, taking its spot in Johnny’s hair, forcing his head up. Johnny’s eyes glaze over as he stares up at Simon, lips parted, face shiny with your slick.

“Ease up.” Simon says, forcing Johnny back onto his knees. Your legs drop from around his shoulders, falling limp on the bed. “’S time for breakfast.”

Johnny whines, tilting his head back to stare at Simon. “But she hasnae cum again.”

Simon glances down at you before pulling Johnny off the bed. He climbs up onto his knees, the mattress sinking beside you. You get no moment of relief before Simon is stuffing two of his fingers into you, the other hand pressing down on your belly. Johnny stands at the end of the bed, breathing out a curse as his hand drops to his cock.

Simon’s fingers are fast and rough as they thrust into you, curled upward to hit that spot over and over. You know where this is going as hot pleasure burns through you, your legs already shaking. You can’t even try to protest as your back arches off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets as your brain starts to go numb.

You let out a long, loud moan as white hot pleasure shoots through you, Simon’s fingers pistoning in and up inside of you. Your entire body shakes, hips lifting as you squirt all over Simon’s hand and the sheets.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Johnny groans, his own body shuddering.

Simon pulls his fingers out of you as you try to breathe, your head spinning. He pats your pussy before pushing off the bed. “There. She came.” He looks at Johnny and the mess he’s made on the sheets. “Clean yourself up then come out for breakfast.”

All you can do is lay there and try to breathe as you watch his back retreating out of the room.

You’re definitely not going to cry.

Well, not cry again.

You cried packing up the room, making the bed fresh like it had been when you first arrived. You cried double checking every inch of the room to ensure every trace of you was gone.

You didn’t cry loading up the two cars with boxes and suitcases. You didn’t cry standing out on the deck one last time to stare out at the sea. You wanted to go down to the beach one last time, but as usual, it was pouring rain and John said no. You’d get to see the beach again soon, he said. The weather will be clearer by then and warmer. Spring is approaching which means more rain.

You’ve come to hate the rain.

“Holding up back there?” Kyle’s voice cuts the quiet in the car.

It’s a four hour drive from the cottage back to Hereford. There would be no flying this time. You almost wish you were. It would have made this torture go by faster.

“Yep.” You say, head leaned against the glass as you watch the green hills pass by outside. You’re too warm, tucked in under a blanket, but you don’t have it in you to fight it off your body.

Your big bear is buckled in the middle seat next to you, and next to it a few bags and suitcases. The two cars were packed almost full of things you accumulated during your months at the cottage. Stuff bought to make it seem more like home. Home. The barracks. The place you wish you’d never have to see again. Now you’re going back to that cold, sterile world surrounded by alphas and betas you don’t know.

Tears are pooling in your eyes again.

“It’ll only be for a couple weeks.” John says, glancing at you through the rear-view mirror. “I’ve already filed the paperwork.”

Despite the warmth you huddle deeper under the blanket, looking away from the rolling green hills to lean against your big bear. You almost made it ride with Simon and Johnny in the car behind you, but instead you’re glad you stuffed it into the backseat with you.

Kyle turns on the radio, breaking the tense silence that’s settled over the car. You ignore it, closing your eyes. You won’t sleep, but at least you can pretend for a while that you’re not going back to the place you want to see least in this world.

You’re silently glad John somehow had your ID with him as you roll up to the gates of the base. It hasn’t changed at all in the months you’ve been away, still so unwelcoming and cheerless. You forgot how plain their world is, how boring and cold as John drives through the base back to the barracks. It feels like so long ago this had been your normal. You’d walked this base over and over, back and forth to the mess hall, the gym, the training areas. Nothing’s changed here, but everything has changed with you and your pack.

You don’t want to get out of the car as John pulls to a stop outside the familiar white building. It looks just like it did months ago, looming and plain. You sit there for a moment, still bundled under the blanket, leaning against your bear. You don’t want to get out. You want to run back to the cottage, back to the warm, small space that had been your home. It feels more like home than this place ever will.

Just a couple weeks.

That’s what John said. A couple weeks then you’d be leaving for good, never having to step foot on this base again. You, John, and Kyle would be leaving for Scotland to find a permanent home, one that actually felt like home.

Your door opens, John leaning down. “Come on. I know you don’t want to, but we have no choice.”

You have no choice.

You really don’t.

You sigh, undoing your seatbelt before finally pulling the blanket off. The cold air outside makes you shiver, your hands sinking into the sleeves of the oversized sweater you’re wearing. One of Simon’s, you think. You’ve stolen so many of their clothes over the last couple weeks it’s hard to tell what used to belong to who.

Nerves start to twist in your stomach as you move towards the door, propped open by a box as Simon and Johnny start to move your belongings back in. You don’t want to pass over that threshold, step back into the world you so desperately were trying to avoid going back to.

The doorway hangs open like the maw of some hideous beast, some monstrous being waiting to devour you. That mouth will close and swallow you whole down into some nightmarish realm.

There is no escape. It seems to taunt you, lashing out, playing to your greatest fears. Once you step over that threshold, there’s no going back. You’ll be stuck in there forever.

“Come on.” Kyle’s hand presses against your back to nudge you forward. The temptation to dig your heels in, throw a tantrum like a child is strong, but you won’t. There are others around you now, watching, assessing. You’re no longer safe to do as you want, the freedoms you had at the cottage have been rescinded and now you have to play their game again.

Despite your hesitance, despite your unwillingness you force your feet to move, dragging yourself closer and closer to the gaping maw waiting to swallow you. The soles of your shoes seem to sink into the asphalt, every step like wading through quicksand as you force yourself closer and closer to the place you want to be least in the world.

You’d take Texas over this.

You’re shaking as you take the final step, aware of Johnny behind you with a box in his hands, but you can’t make yourself move faster than you are. Just one step and you’ll be through the door, back into the world you left behind, and had hoped would be behind you for the rest of your life.

Foot meets tile and you’re inside. The lights are bright, burning your eyes as they adjust from the cloudy grey outside. It’s only noon but the world seems dark outside. Rain, you think. It’s going to rain.

Johnny nudges you forward gently, feet stumbling to the side as you move out of his way. You’re shaking, knees almost knocking together as you stand there in the barracks for the first time in months.

You’re not glad to be back.

The hallway seems to go on forever, stretching on and on like a hallway in a horror movie. If you ran down it, it might seem to stretch on forever. A five-and-a-half minute hallway.

“Hey,”

You jump as a hand lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps to the side, heart racing at the thought of some random solider entering the barracks, approaching you so openly while your pack is distracted. That’s a hypervigilance you’ll have to return to. They’re all threats, every one of them. You’re surrounded by unfriendly betas and alphas, ones who would jump at any chance to go after an unguarded omega.

They have before.

Kyle’s the one behind you, his hand on your shoulder. You only recognize him through scent, the soft smell of salty air and the gentle scent of beta fills your nose. Your eyes are blurry with tears you didn’t even realize were gathering there.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Kyle says, his hand heavy on your shoulder, trying to ground you in your panic. “But we have to. Let’s go, yeah?” He nods his head down the hallway.

You don’t want to. Spending the next few weeks in the car feels like a better compromise than having to be back inside here.

Instead you let him guide you forward, feet scuffing on the tile as you make your way down that clinically white hallway. It’s all so sterile and unwelcoming, unlike the soft warmth of the cottage. It’s nearly giving you whiplash, the change to the harsh cold of the barracks. There’s no changing it, no making it gentler, more easy to bear. This world is harsh and cold and they’re shifting back into it so easily.

You suppose they’re used to it. Their entire adult lives have been in this. You adjust to where you are because you have no choice. Even sleeping outside in the cold would be welcoming to them. Not ideal, but they’d do it.

You’re not like them.

Kyle squeezes your shoulder before stepping ahead of you, making his way to his door. It squeaks quietly as it opens and he disappears into the darkness, leaving you behind. The world starts to contort, your vision tunneling as you pause outside your own door.

It’s closed as best it can be. The door jam is splintered, the wood cracked from where it had been kicked in. There’s still a boot print imprinted into the wood. You remember the shoving against the door, the jiggling of the handle. It’s cold as you press your hand against it, pushing it open. It only opens a couple feet before it hits something. Your dresser. You’d pushed it against the door to try and buy as much time as you could.

Your hand shakes as you reach through, fingers fumbling until you find the light switch. The overhead light flickers on, shining ugly and yellow from above. You slip through the gap in the door, stepping into your old room.

It smells like dust, all hints of any scents being gone after months of being empty. The window is closed. Someone came in and closed it. Your desk is still in disarray, items knocked over and on the floor from your scramble to get out of the room.

There’s a band tied around your chest, squeezing and squeezing tighter and tighter. Your breaths come in ragged inhales and shaky exhales, faster and faster until your fingers are starting to go numb. You can’t look away from the window, your brain starting to go fuzzy. There’s a pit in your stomach, a violent twisting and dropping sensation. It makes you sick, nausea starting to crawl up your esophagus.

Blood pounds in your ears, no...something is slamming against the door. Panic seizes you, freezing your body in place, stiffening your muscles.

You need to get out. You need to go.

Someone is coming.

You scream as arms wrap around you, tugging you out of the room. You’re flailing, panicking, fists swinging blindly.

“Stop.” A firm voice commands, hands closing around your wrists, tugging you closer. “Stop.”

You’re pushed up against a chest, firm and solid against you. A strong scent floods your nose. Leather, something soft and fresh.

“Breathe.” A voice cuts through the blood pounding in your ears.

You can’t. Every inhale and exhale hurts, your hands curling into fists from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Come on.” Something wraps around you, squeezing you tightly.

You’re crying. The tears are falling, burning paths down your face as you’re pinned against the solid warmth in front of you. Your lips are shaking, snot sliding down your lip as you cry.

There’s a steady pounding against your ear, thumping evenly. Your mind focuses on that, listening to the rhythmic thump, thump against the side of your face. It clings to that rhythm, your breaths starting to slow. Your hands curl into the t-shirt pressed against your face, the soft fabric wet from your tears.

That steady thumping continues to beat against your ear as the world begins to take shape around you again. You’re pressed up tight against something solid, your body trembling against it. Your fingers are numb, trembling as they grip the fabric of a t-shirt tightly. Your whole body aches, muscles tense, joints locked in place. Your own heart is pounding hard, racing so fast it’s almost painful.

The scent of leather and eucalyptus seeps into your nose, the steady scent of alpha mingling with something else in the air. It’s clouding your brain, soothing its way through your synapses down into the very atoms of your being. It’s easing away that fear, the cloudy haze that’s settled over your mind as you lose yourself to panic.

You’ve had a panic attack, a flashback. Your room hasn’t changed since that day, but why would it? No one has been back to the barracks since that day. Of course it would still look the way you left it months ago. That day you escaped out the window in fear for your life.

No one thought about that.

There’s a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you against a solid chest. The steady thumping against your ear is a heartbeat, strong and slow, calm. It’s comforting, easing you back into your mind and your body and the present.

It’s Simon you’re being held against. Simon pulled you out of the room in the midst of your panic. He’s holding you tightly, arms nearly painful around you as he keeps you pinned to his chest, trying to pull you out of your panic attack and back into reality. You don’t want to get back into reality, into the situation you know you’re in. You want to float away, stay ignorant of everything for the next few weeks. What you wouldn’t give to be sedated right now.

But you can’t. You have to exist in this world again, this world that put you in danger, threatened your life, nearly killed you.

You shift in Simon’s arms, wrapping them around his waist, clinging to him. He keeps his arms tight around you, trying to ground you, trying to keep you calm and make you feel safe. You wish it would work. You wish he could keep you there, safe and secure in his arms for the next few weeks while you’re stuck here. He won’t let anything happen to you, none of them will, but it’s not enough. Their promise, their word isn’t enough, not while you’re stuck in this nightmare.

There’s nothing anyone could do to make these next few weeks any easier.

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[marvelwitchergilmore]

Meant To Be (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you adjust to the modern world.

Disclaimer: This is part three to Meant To Be (2). Fluff, flashbacks/descriptions of life in the 40s with Bucky and the others, platonic!Sam, mention of character deaths, reader is on a little bit of an emotional roller-coaster when trying to adjust but Bucky helps, dancing in the kitchen to music, all the feels. Not Proof Read.

“Thought I might find you here.”

You turned your head to see Sam approaching you as you sat, alone, in the Smithsonian.

“Hey.”

Sam smiled. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead.”

As Sam sat beside you, he looked up to the projector screen. Clips of your old life had been playing for the last two hours or more. It has taken all of an hour on the phone with Tony for the Smithsonian to consider sending the film reels over, and all of five minutes talking to Pepper for them to agree. 

You’d seen a lot of the popular clips MJ had told you about; Steve and Bucky laughing, Peggy’s picture in Steve’s compass, the marching soldiers. You’d even seen some clips of you and Bucky. Moments you didn’t realise that had been recorded. 

It made your heart ache. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s everything to talk about. Food. Music. The fact Bucky still prefers 40s music over Marvin Gaye.”

You chuckled and Sam smiled, relieved to see at least a hint of a smile on your face. 

You’d been in the future for almost three months. And, while he’d seen you smile around the boys and a few others. He still saw that longing look in your eyes. He still saw the hitch in your breathing every time you looked up and someone walked inside. 

The others saw it, too. Especially Bucky. But parts of them were too afraid to ask. They’d lived in the future a lot longer than you. For Steve, he’d been asleep for most of it. And for Bucky, he’d been tortured. Made into someone else for seventy years. 

You? In the blink of an eye, you’d gone from living in 1944 to suddenly appearing in the home of, who would have probably been, your godson.

“Come on. Talk to me. I promise, I’m a really good secret keeper.”

You smiled and shook your head, letting some old clips run through. “I…” The tears came to your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m meant to do here. I-I know I don’t go back. And I know I’m probably here for the rest of my life but…I don’t know what I’m meant to do.”

Sam just sat and listened to you. 

“One day I’m writing things down; military secrets, my own secrets, notes to share with the boys. One day I’m yelling at Howard to get up, threatening to throw a cold bucket of water over his head.” You laughed, but all it did was try to mask the pain. “The next…the next I’m being told one of my best friends didn’t get to live his life out with the love of his life, another went through seventy years of torture and the rest are dead.”

You took a breath and looked at the clip playing on the screen. Peggy and you directing where things would be taking place on the map table. Bucky was standing behind you before he carried a larger map over and Steve circled different spots where he knew camps had been set up. 

For you, that clip took place six months ago. 

“And now I’m watching clips of my life that to me…only just happened. And…I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“You’re grieving.” Sam told you. “You’re having to say goodbye to a lot of people very quickly. Which is insane. But it’s gonna be a process. Even if you think you’re ready to mentally accept it, sometimes your body isn’t. You need to give it time.”

You scoffed a little. “That seems to be all I have. Time. Time to think. Time to remember. Time to catch up on Time. Sam, if none of this happened, I’d probably be dead by now, if not, on my way out.”

“But you’re not. Instead, you’re here. You’re alive, and so is Steve and Bucky. Believe me, I get it. You’ve come from a war and, just because you’ve come home doesn’t mean that it’s stopped. But all you need to do right now is rest.”

You talked to Sam for an hour or more before eventually the conversation died away and you were both left to sit and watch the different film reels. But as the dates got slightly sporadic, the clips became more…intimate. 

One started playing out from when you’d all been stationed in London. You’d all ended up at a dance hall somewhere outside the city. It was only a small space but people seemed to create enough room for couples to dance. 

Peggy was in the corner, introducing Steve to some of her old friends. You were standing by one of the posts, watching everyone on the floor sway to the music and Bucky, like usual, had a crowd of girls around him. 

You turned your attention away from the clip of Bucky in hopes to kill the pang of jealousy inside your chest. 

“They really loved each other, didn’t they?”

You knew who Sam was talking about. And you nodded with a ghost of a smile. “They really did.”

But that was when Sam’s attention was torn from the happy couple towards Bucky who, although had been smiling and laughing with three girls who’d crowded around him, his attention was caught somewhere else. 

Rather, on someone else. 

You. 

Looking over his shoulder at you, Sam watched your reaction before looking back to Bucky as he apologised to the girls and disappeared. He was heading straight for you. Taking your drink from you, he shocked you as he placed it on the table beside you before he took your hand in his and brought you to the floor. 

Sam could faintly hear the music playing from the band. “We’ll meet again. Don’t know where. Don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day…”

Never in his life had Sam seen Bucky dance. Not with anyone. But that wasn’t what shocked him. What shocked him was the look on Bucky’s face. A smile. A genuine smile. The kind a man only ever saved for the love of his life.

Unlike some of the other couples on the floor, Bucky held you close to him. His arm practically wrapped around you completely in comparison to some of the other dancers. This was not a man who was prepared to let you go. 

With your hand in his, his fingers caressed the back of your hand and his feet led you both around in a small circle. 

“When was this?” Sam asked quietly in order to not scare you. You were engrossed with the clip. Clearly, you were reliving the scene as you watched it play out. 

You swallowed thickly. “1942…I think. We…we were stationed in London. He always saved me a dance. I’ve always had two left feet so I didn’t dance much but…”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve got two left feet, there.”

You smiled, fondly. “He’s a good dance partner.”

Sam chuckled under his breath before watching the rest of the clip with you. 

Sam had never asked Bucky complete questions about you before you appeared. Bucky wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, so he’d just wait for him to open up. But after you returned and he saw the way Bucky tried to never leave your side, he asked him the one question he’d been dying to ask since Bucky had first said your name. 

“How long have you been in love with her?”

All Bucky could say was, “Too long.”. 

And watching this clip, Sam realised what Bucky had meant. You’d been tattooed on his heart since he first met you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier, he still got flashbacks of you. Even when he left Wakanda, part of him still wanted you to be alive somewhere. 

Whenever he went on a date, your name on his heart only burned deeper into his muscles. He’d been consumed by you since he probably first met you. And he didn’t want it any other way. 

The clip ran out before a new one started up. 

Home videos. 

These were even more precious, because there weren't very many.

The first one to play was from the day you’d all been on the beach. Howard’s home led out to it. 

“Dugan! Put that camera down and come and join us!” You heard Peggy yell. 

You smiled, thankful to hear their voices again. 

From the beach day, however, one clip stood out to you the most. 

You were lying on one of the sunbeds under the shade, reading. And from behind you, Bucky had snuck up on you before plucking the book from your hands. Turning around, he read a few sentences out loud as he walked away. 

“James! Hey, give that back!” You laughed as you stood up and followed after him. 

“Who brings a book to the beach, doll? You’ll only be taking half of this place back with you.”

“Then I’ll collect it in a jar as a keepsake. Would you-just-” You gave a huff as Bucky held your book well out of reach. 

“Join us. Just one game. Please?” He begged, his eyes softening. 

“Yeah! Come on, sweet cheeks! You’re missing out!”

You turned around to look at Howard who hit the volleyball back to Peggy. Then you turned back to Bucky, his eyes somehow even softer. 

You groaned. “Fine. But then you’ll give me my book back?”

Bucky stood to attention before placing a cross over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart, doll…”

You eyed him up, humming. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You could remember that day. You ended up playing three rounds before the entire thing became a football game nobody kept score of. Peggy beat most of the boys, Steve stared at her in adoration. 

But for the first time, you noticed Bucky looking at you. 

You remembered turning around that day, thinking he’d been looking at Steve and Peggy. But…

From the clip, it was clear as day he was looking at you. 

And it took your breath away. 

You only spotted it more and more as the clips played through. 

You and Bucky lay together, heads touching as you held your book above you both, reading out loud. Some of the Commandos had fallen asleep on the sofas, listening to your voice read. But Bucky hadn’t. His eyes were fully on you. 

The clips from when a photographer had been hired to take a group shot of the entire team. The video was taken from behind the photographer. 

You pointed out who everyone was to Sam and what they were doing. Then you both noticed Bucky looking at you before you turned your head to look at him. 

Then something started to dawn on you. 

Most of the time whenever you’d look at Bucky…

“He was already looking at you,” Sam said, out loud. 

“Yeah…”

Sam had sat on the bench in front of you, stretching himself out as he propped himself up on his elbow. He looked up at you where you’d barely moved from your seat since he arrived. 

And from the look on your face, Sam wondered if his bet with Steve wouldn’t run as long as he thought. 

It was a few days later, when you were sitting in the living room, flipping through some fictional novels MJ had dropped off for you, that you saw Bucky again. 

“Hey.”

You looked up. “Hey.”

As he stood by the door, looking a little awkward, he held a brown box in his arms. “I just…I thought you might…”

He walked inside before placing the box down carefully on the coffee table in front of you. 

“What is it? I swear to god, Bucky, if this is some kind of makeshift animal habitat I’m gonna-”

Bucky shook his head, trying to hide his smile. There was only one reason why you thought that’s what it was and that was because you’d both been rooting through Howard’s basement one sunny afternoon before meeting the others at the beach. 

That was where you’d found out Howard was thinking about starting an animal sanctuary for all kinds of animals. 

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” Bucky said, slight amusement in his voice. “It’s…after you disappeared, Colonel Phillips…” Bucky had never had to say the words out loud before. 

When he’d come home with a box of your things, Steve didn’t need to be told what it meant. The military saw you as dead and needed to replace you as quickly as they could. 

“He had me clean out your desk and I couldn’t think about throwing any of it away.”

“Oh.”

Bucky carefully sat beside you as you reached over and pulled the lid from the box. It smelled like the 40s. 

“I didn’t even know it still existed until I moved in here. They must have kept everything from Steve’s apartment after he went into the ice. I didn’t ask him where it went or how he got it back. I was just glad to know your things still existed.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out a few old notepads, aged with colour. To you, they’d been brand new, straight out of their packaging a few months ago. 

Then you found the pictures. With a sad smile, you wiped the dust away from the frame. A picture of yourself, Peggy, Steve, Howard and Bucky. It had been a rare night out in Brooklyn. 

Another picture of Steve and the Howling Commandos with Peggy beside him. One of yourself, Howard and Mr Jarvis. It was grainy, but you could still see the reflection of Jarvis’ wife in the gleaming windows behind you. She’d been adamant to not be in the picture since she wanted a copy of all three of you, too. 

Scrap pieces of paper were bundled together. Notes to give Peggy her pen back, find Steve a pack of fresh pencils since he’d picked up a habit of breaking them. He still wasn’t used to his strength. A note to attend the meeting with Peggy and the Colonel on Thursday, a note to run your recruit papers down to City Hall since you’d agreed to take three trainees under your wing, and one final note…

Museum with James, this Saturday.

The ink had worn with time, but the sentiment had only grown. 

He’d asked you to the new museum exhibit. He’d asked you that day. That morning. 

“There’s also this.”

You turned and looked at Bucky before looking down at his hands. Your notebook. The one you kept locked in your desk drawer. It took your breath away as you took it in your hands. 

All the conversations you’d had with him, all the dates you’d been on together. But after the day of your disappearance, the handwriting changed. 

It was no longer yours, but Bucky’s. You’d seen enough of his half finished paperwork that he’d try to sneak into your pile to know his handwriting almost immediately. 

It wasn’t listed by dates, but with a line drawn under each section, you knew they were day by day. 

“I kept it with me.” Bucky told you. “Everything I wanted to talk to you about.”

You fought your hardest to keep your tears at bay. “These dashes? What do they mean?”

“They’re when I’ve talked to you.”

You were confused. 

“The Colonel…he made sure you had a grave. Said it would help people move on if they wanted to. They’d have a place to still talk to you. It’s still there.”

You turned and looked back at the list. You’d seen your grave, once. You’d stand behind the cobble wall, looking at it under one of the blossom trees. You couldn’t bear to walk any closer. 

“I knew I wanted to talk to you. Sometimes it was to the stars, but mostly it was to…to your grave.”

You quickly wiped away a tear. Something panged tight in your chest. 

An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, dusting the fallen blossom petals from the top of the marble stone. An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, talking to you about; Meeting Sam, Working with Sam, his New Therapist, the WS Programme, Steve and Peggy, Steve and Natasha, his nightmare about the 40s…

The images killed you. 

“Doll?”

Bucky laid a hand on your knee, his fingers reaching up to push some hair from your eyes. Without taking another second to think, you turned and hugged Bucky. Tight. 

“I’m so sorry.” You could hear your voice shaking. 

“Sorry? What for?”

You leaned back after a few seconds and wiped your eyes and shook your head. “Everything? I…I can’t believe I missed so much.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“Feels like I do.”

“No,” Bucky told you. “Never. First, you have nothing to apologise for. And second,” Bucky brushed the hair clear from your face so he could see you properly. “Second,” he repeated, his voice a little softer than before. “You never have to apologise to me. You didn’t then. You don’t now.”

You managed to smile, and once Bucky recognised it to be genuine, he smiled, too. 

“You eaten yet?”

You shook your head. “Book’s too riveting.” 

You both looked at the red bound book on the coffee table. Agatha Christie. A publication from the seventies. 

Bucky smiled. “Why am I not surprised? I’ll make us something.”

Bucky stood, surprising you a little when he placed a light kiss to the top of your head as he did so before walking towards the kitchen. “Do I wanna know how you found it?”

You smiled, following him with your book in hand. “MJ brought them over. Peter must have told her I was bored and she said her aunt had most of these books just laying in her attic taking up space. Told me I could have them.”

“How far are you?” Bucky was moving around the kitchen as you sat down at the kitchen island, watching him. 

“Couple of chapters. Why?”

Bucky paused for a second and smiled. “Read it to me.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, already opening the book up. 

He nodded. “I’m sure. I’ve missed hearing you read.”

You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at hearing him say that. So, unable to hide your smile, you read outloud. And every time you tried to sneak a glance at him, you found him already looking at you.

It was a few more weeks before you actually asked him about it. About the way he’s always looked at you. And it had been after you’d watched Annie. 

He’d been looking at you throughout the movie, and a few times you’d caught him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. But when you were both in the kitchen, cooking a meal together with the radio playing lightly in the background, you finally mentioned it. 

“You’re gonna cut your fingers if you don’t pay attention.”

“I am paying attention,” Bucky said as he continued to chop. 

“You’re staring again.”

Bucky smiled. “Can’t help it.”

You just looked at him and rolled your eyes lightly before turning around and dumping the chopped carrots into the pot. 

“Fine. But don’t come running to me when you start bleeding.”

Bucky just held up his hand. “Can’t bleed.”

You looked up. He had you there. 

“Do you wanna peel the sprouts?” You asked for the bowl on the kitchen island. 

Dumping what he’d already chopped into the pot with yours, he came to stand beside you before picking each sprout out, peeling away a few of their layers. 

But as time slowly passed by, Bucky’s presence becoming a true comfort to you, he stopped what he was doing before he silently took your hand in his. 

“Bucky.”

“Dance with me. We don’t get to do this anymore.”

You sighed, but still agreed. And it wasn’t long before your brain took you back to that dance hall in London. The scent of Bucky’s aftershave consuming your senses in such a way you’d know you’d be able to still faintly smell him when he’d long left the room. His touch burned into your skin through your clothes, and the rhythm of your heart joined his. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Always, doll.”

You smiled and leaned back a little in order to see his face. “It’s about your staring. You’re always looking at me. Why?”

“Straight to the point. I like it.”

You suppressed your laugh and hit it in the chest. “I’m being serious. Why? I didn't think I noticed it until I watched our home videos.”

“You’ve watched the home videos?”

You nodded. “Yeah. There were only a few clips that I could get fed through the film reel. But…you’re always looking at me.”

His smile softened. “That’s because you’re beautiful.”

You laughed. “Bucky, I’m being serious.”

He looked a little hurt. “So am I.”

You knew it had hit you, what he truly meant. You just hadn’t been expecting it to hit you so hard. 

“Buck…”

“I’m always looking because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, doll.” Bucky told you, truthfully. 

The song crackled and changed over the radio but neither of you stopped dancing together. Your hand was still firmly in his, your body was still flushed against him. 

“I know you haven’t seen the last seventy years…but I have. No woman compares to you, Y/n. Not a single one…”

Bucky’s voice trailed away as he laid himself bare for you. Your heart was thumping in your ears, your lips parted and took in what air you could, which wasn’t much. And just as the walls around both of you started to fade away and the music became nothing more than soundwaves, you felt yourself lean closer to him. 

“Doll…”

“James…”

It seemed to take forever for his lips to meet with yours, but once they did, there wasn’t a chance in all of the universe that you’d let yourself forget the feeling of his kiss. 

His hand that wrapped around your lower back and held you in by your hips, tightened. With his other hand guiding your arm around his shoulders, he was quick to hold you closer to him; if that was even possible. 

As your hands came to hold his face, his lips moving to kiss you even more, he lifted you from the floor a little. 

By the time you both broke away for air, your eyes remained closed as his head rested against yours. 

“Please tell me this isn’t just a one time thing,” Bucky asked you. 

You shook your head, a little out of breath. “No. This…this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“Good.” He told you before finally opening his eyes to look at you. “I’ve waited more than seventy years to kiss you.”

Your hands linked around his neck as he stood there with you in his arms. “Was it worth the wait?”

A slight chuckle left Bucky. “Oh, most definitely, doll.”

He didn’t wait another second before capturing your lips in another kiss. He would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you, but he didn’t have to. You were alive, you were breathing, and you were kissing him back. 

It wouldn’t be long before he’d tell you how deep his feelings ran for you. But you’d surprise him that day by beating him to it. Even if the last seventy years had been nothing but a blink of the eye for you, it had been almost a hundred for Bucky. 

You loved him too much to make him wait any longer. 

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Wherever you stray, I follow

Tags: LADS men x fem!Reader, fantasy au, princess!Reader, fae!Zayne, knight!Xavier, lemurian!Rafayel, dragonshifter!Sylus, knight!Caleb, why choose

Synopsis: You’re a princess arranged to marry the cold fae king, Zayne. However, there are four other contenders who are not willing to let you go so easily.

An: I have been maladaptive daydreaming about this story for months now. There are some ideas I have that I think I’ll never write. This was one of those ideas. Every time I considered writing it, I told myself that it was too ambitious. It’s too much to flesh out on Tumblr. I’m writing it anyway because I want to.

Chapter one. |

Contrary to popular belief, Xavier’s favorite part of the day was waking up. Sure, he valued his sleep more than anyone else at the estate, but he loved what the morning time brought to him.

He would intentionally wake up early in the morning before the birds had begun to sing, dragging himself up and out of bed even on the chilliest of mornings. Pulling up his pants as he tried not to trip over his sword from his exhaustion, Xavier was quick to adorn his navy blue uniform.

The only thought that filled his mind was the sight that would greet him… the only sight that made stepping on the freezing tile floors worth it.

He tied up his laces, sheathing his light blade to his belt before he made a mad dash up the stairs.

The estate wasn’t quiet in the morning times. In fact, this was when everyone was bustling around, trying to prepare for the day ahead.

While jogging to his target location, he snagged a croissant off of a plate that one of the many butlers were carrying around.

“Sir Xavier-!” the butler scoffed. His lips curled into a thin line, giving Xavier a look of disapproval.

Xavier merely chuckled as he snatched another one before the butler could even think to get away. He then gracefully strolled into the dining room, swiping one of the pristine plates off of the table. A servant glared at him with a look that could kill.

The blonde knight merely grinned, shrugging as he went on about his day. Even if looks could kill, he was confident that he’d win that battle. A life of protecting the most precious of treasures has made him as weary as it has made him cocky as well.

There was a reason he was sworn in as the princess’s personal holy guard.

He continued to make his way through the estate, bobbing and weaving through servants, maids, seamstresses, and even other knights. He carefully balanced the croissant on the plate until he finally arrived.

His fist gently rasped against the large mahogany wooden door. The barrier was intricately decorated with ornamental carvings and golden roses.

“Come in!” a sweet voice the could carry him away called to him on the other end of the door.

He didn’t waste any time. This is what mornings were all about. He opened the door. “Are you decent, my lady?” he asked, giving a small playful edge to his voice.

“Xavier, I wouldn’t have told you to come in if I wasn’t decent,” you chided whilst rolling your eyes. Xavier loved to remind you of the one and only time he had walked in to see you still getting fitted for one of your gowns.

You had a team around you. One lady was carefully taking the rollers out of your unruly hair and teasing it. Another lady was busy dusting powder across your face, almost enough to make you sneeze. Finally, you had a third lady behind your back, fitting your corset to your body.

It took a village to prepare a princess, and Xavier was one of the lucky few that got to see you during your most raw moments… the moments before your hair had been sprayed into place, the moments before your face became a canvas.

He got to see you — not the princess. That was what made his mornings worth it.

“Mm, except for the one time you did let me in while you weren’t decent,” Xavier reminded. His voice always felt like a warm security blanket, even while he was teasing you.

He made his way to your side, kneeling before you as he offered up the plate with a croissant towards you.

“So help me, Astra. If you eat that while I’m tying your corset, I will be forced to resign,” the lady who was nimbly working the delicate ribbon behind you snipped.

“So, resign. I know how to work a corset,” Xavier spoke up even if the words were not directed at him. His voice took on a sharper edge while he spoke to anyone but you, and you could already see the storm clouds filling his lapis blue eyes.

Your eyes met his, giving him a warning glance. His gaze softened as soon as it met yours.

You sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time your dutiful knight has chased off one of your servants.

Your knight gestured the plate again towards you, a bit more stern and rigid with his actions.

You took the croissant from him and took small nibbles to appease him but to also not piss off the woman who could crush your ribs right now.

Seemingly satisfied for now, Xavier speaks up, “What’s on the agenda today, my lady? Shall you try to beat me at cards again? Perhaps, you’ll pick up fencing finally? Or, shall I take you horseback riding?”

“Ah, I apologize, Sir Xavier. I have… official things to dedicate myself to today,” you say gently, tiptoeing around what has actually been planned for today.

You realistically know that Xavier will find out eventually, since he has been sworn to follow you around, but you’re not ready to face what he’ll say about what’s in store for today.

“Oh, official business…” Xavier says, his voice shifting to a lower tone. His eyes slowly wander to the heavy engagement ring that weighs down your finger. He can’t help but feel his jaw clench. “Will we be traveling today..?” he reluctantly asks.

“No, the business will come to us today.” You can already hear in Xavier’s voice that he’s picked up on what’s happening today.

Your betrothed, King Zayne of the fae territory, will be coming for a visit today. Your marriage had long been arranged, since you two were children, but your wedding would be soon.

By fae standards, Zayne was still very young, but his bride was a human, which meant he needed to marry sooner than most fae. He needed to abide by a different timeline. Besides, he had been thrust into a king’s position ever since he was seventeen. His people have lived for far too long without a queen.

Xavier’s body was tense. There was nothing he despised more than pretentious fae lords waltzing into his kingdom, daring to touch his princess.

He could probably look past the fae part, Xavier rationalized. If you and Zayne were truly smitten with one another and in love for the right reasons, he could make himself back off. If it meant you’d be happy…

But Zayne felt love as much as the ice cycles that erupted from his hands felt love. His heart was as cold and solemn as stone.

“When?” he asked, cutting his tone short.

“Soon…” you murmur, hating that Xavier always seemed to get short with you whenever Zayne was the topic of discussion. You had a duty to fulfill to your people…

Your kingdom needed fae assistance. They had a plethora of resources that you could only dream of having. Your people would never have to want for anything if the fae shared their commerce and merchant business with your people.

Your marriage to Zayne would change lives for the better… You had a responsibility to your people, and every royal person knew that loved played no hand in marriage whatsoever.

Your fate was set by Astra himself. There was no point in even trying to deny the inevitable.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

[jungwnies]

cat cafe | max verstappen

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🦈) : going on a date to a cat cafe 🐈‍⬛

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 680

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : plsss this is so cute omfg 😭

you don’t even get a full step inside the café before max practically melts.

there’s a sleepy ginger curled up on the window ledge. a black and white tuxedo cat sprawled out across the checkout counter. somewhere in the back, a small gray blur streaks by, chasing a toy mouse like its life depends on it.

max’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. he doesn’t even hide it.

“okay,” he whispers under his breath, turning to you with a grin so boyish it makes your heart skip. “best idea you’ve ever had.”

you raise a brow. “even better than letting you teach me how to drive manual?”

“way better,” he says instantly. “no offense.”

the girl at the front desk gives you each a lint roller and a pair of house slippers, then waves you in with a soft “feel free to sit anywhere.” max is already crouched by the nearest scratching post before she finishes the sentence, fingers outstretched to a chunky tabby who immediately rolls over and exposes its belly like they’re old friends.

“look at you,” you laugh, toeing off your shoes and sinking into one of the floor cushions nearby. “absolute cat whisperer.”

“they know i’m one of them,” max says without looking up.

you snort. “so humble, too.”

the café is warm and soft, with low lighting and the smell of brewed tea and vanilla cookies in the air. there’s lo-fi music playing, a few couples scattered around with drinks and cat treats, but it all feels peaceful. safe.

max eventually joins you on the floor, two cats in his lap and one trying to climb his shoulder. his cap is tilted back just enough to show a few messy strands of hair, and his smile hasn’t left since you walked in.

he leans over and whispers, “i want, like, four.”

you blink. “cats?”

he nods. “for now.”

you roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “you’re ridiculous.”

he grins. “you’re the one who brought me here.”

you nudge his leg with your foot. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he raises a brow. “i’m lucky?”

a small gray kitten pads over and curls up in your lap, purring immediately. max watches you with the softest look — the kind he only gets when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

“i could stay here forever,” he says quietly.

you hum, brushing your fingers through the kitten’s fur. “i’d get jealous.”

“of the cats?”

“yeah.”

he smiles. “they’re great, but they don’t hold my hand during takeoff. or tell me they love me when i’m three time zones away.”

you glance up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his voice.

he shrugs. “don’t look at me like that. i’m allowed to be soft.”

you smile. “you are. you just usually do it with more sarcasm.”

“yeah, well,” he looks down at the orange tabby now nestled against his chest. “you bring it out of me.”

by the time your drinks arrive — hot chocolate for you, iced coffee for max — there are six cats between you, and neither of you has moved in over twenty minutes. you sip carefully, balancing the sleeping kitten on your thigh, while max snaps a photo of the black cat now curled inside his hoodie.

“i’m naming him turbo,” he says. “because he’s fast.”

you squint. “you named the sleepiest cat in here turbo?”

he shrugs. “it’s aspirational.”

before you leave, you both buy a sticker from the donation box and promise the staff you’ll be back. max practically has to be dragged away, gently prying turbo off his sweater and giving him one last scratch behind the ears.

as you step out into the cool evening air, he grabs your hand, fingers lacing through yours like instinct.

“that was the best date ever,” he says, swinging your hands between you. “i didn’t even know i needed that.”

you smile. “we can go back.”

“no,” he says, grinning at you like you just gave him a podium. “next time we’re bringing one home.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[lilhughesy]

Baby, It’s You. | Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader, (feat. Ethan Edwards x Best Friend!Reader)

warnings! enemies to friends to enemies to lovers, angsty, mean!Luke, mentions of drinking, stress, slow burn lol, oh and Luke being a dick. word count: 25.5k (im so sorry)

summary: You are the sports media intern for the UMich hockey team which is so great because your best friend, Ethan Edwards, plays for the team. However, his friend and your arch nemesis is also on the team and his name is Luke Hughes. He gets the most joy by pestering you without realizing the effects it had on you.

a/n: another lukey fic for you guys! I tried something new by changing up how I typically write Luke and how I wrote this in general and I am so sorry that it is so long and lowkey super repetitive... I wanted to capture the push and pull between them but I think I went overboard. This was my first time writing enemies to lovers so please be nice if it’s actually awful😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the too-white walls with scratches from chairs scraping against the paint a couple of times, and the scuffed linoleum floor of the student athlete resource center. The buzz of the printer echoed in the mostly empty area in addition to the occasional crunching of the paper jamming halfway through the rollers. The place smelled faintly of printer ink, stress, and forgotten coffee cups.

You stood at the front of the print station, one hand clutching onto the edge of the table, the other pressing the Reprint button repeatedly, “I swear, this machine has a personal vendetta against me.”

Ethan Edwards laughed behind you, the sound warm and easy, like it always was with him, “Maybe it just knows you’re not officially on the team and feels threatened.”

You shot him a playful glare over your shoulder, “Hey, I’m helping you with your disaster of a paperwork situation, you should at least be nice.”

He grinned with his expression unbothered, “You're right, I’m sorry. You’re an angel. A queen, and coach would have my head if I forgot to bring in these papers again”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at him, “These forms are the only thing standing between Michigan Hockey and NCAA travel sanctions.”

Ethan leaned on the counter beside you, his Wolverines jacket slightly rumpled, a half-empty shaker bottle in one hand. His eyes were crinkled at the corners from laughing too much. You’d met him in Sport Management 101 your first semester of college. He’d been one of the only athletes who actually participated in discussion and didn’t act like the class was a punishment. You’d bonded over a shared love for Canadian sports teams, given that you two are both from Canada. He was the kind of friend who texted you links to ridiculous sports Instagram posts at 2 a.m. and brought you a spare umbrella when the forecast betrayed you. Ethan never tried to be more than your friend, never crossed a line, and in a major where networking often blurred into flirting, that made him gold.

“You still owe me for this,” You said, stacking the semi-wrinkled waivers into a neat pile.

He nodded, “A week of bagels, I know. I’m thinking cinnamon sugar. Toasted. Maybe with a cold brew as a chaser?”

You handed him the last sheet with an amused smile, “And this is why you’re my favourite.”

“Tell that to Luke,” Ethan mumbled under his breath. You stiffened slightly at the mention of his name, but before you could reply, the door swung open with a squeak of the hinges.

Speaking of the actual devil, Luke Hughes walked in, dragging the sharp chill of the fall air with him. His team hoodie clung to his frame, still damp from sweat. His skates were slung over his shoulder by the laces, the metal blades clinking faintly with each step. His curly hair was a mess of dark blonde, his jawline sharp, his eyes sharper.

His eyes landed on you instantly, and his expression shifted from neutral to unmistakably irritated in a split second.

“Oh,” He said flatly, “It’s you.”

You didn’t even flinch, “Unfortunately.”

He turned to Ethan, “You ready? Coach is losing his mind about ice time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan replied, picking up the forms that you had stacked up for him, “We’re good. She helped me print them.”

Luke glanced at the stack in your hands, then at you, eyebrows arching like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “Didn’t know they taught you how to print in sport management.”

“Didn’t know they taught you how to be a dick in hockey, I guess we’re both learning new things today,” You shot back with your eyebrows raised. 

Ethan shifted his weight uncomfortably, clearly sensing the growing tension, “Okay, cool. I love this banter. Let’s… save this energy for the game tomorrow, Hughesy.”

You took a step forward, plopping the stack of papers in Ethan’s hands a little harder than necessary, “Here, good luck with whatever this season turns into.”

You were halfway out the door when Luke’s voice followed you, as smooth and smug as ever, “You know, some of us are actually going places.”

You stopped in your tracks and slowly, you turned around to face him. He was still leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world, arms crossed, half-grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“My skills come naturally, y’know,” He said. “It’s basically genetic, like my brothers both play in the NHL and I’m already drafted. So while I’m signing pro contracts, you’ll be figuring out how to pay off your student loans for the next ten years.”

The words landed like a slap. But instead of backing down, you met his eyes and smiled sweetly.

“Wow,” You scoffed, “Was being an asshole also mandatory when getting drafted? Or is that just the online hype getting to your head?”

Something flickered in his expression, barely noticeable. You didn’t wait for him to answer, you turned on your heel and walked out, letting the heavy door swing closed behind you.

Outside, the crisp late September air bit at your cheeks, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear the residue of Luke Hughes off your skin. He was the only person who could make a hockey rink feel like a battlefield.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You hadn’t meant to walk past Yost.

The smart thing would’ve been to take the long way around, down State Street, away from the thick smell of rubber pucks, melting ice, and testosterone. But your marketing lecture had let out early, and your shortcut to your apartment required you to go straight through the arena’s lobby.

The glass doors creaked as you pushed them open. Inside, the air was cooler, the walls were lined with black-and-white photos of championship teams and action shots of hockey legends frozen in time, and Luke Hughes among them, of course.

You kept your eyes down, footsteps quiet on the slick floor. The rink was alive behind the glass, with players slicing across the ice, barked instructions from a coach echoing off the boards. The clatter of sticks and skates blended with the distant hum of the Zamboni, like the building was vibrating with movement.

You were halfway across the lobby when a familiar voice cut through the static.

“Hey,”

Your shoulders tensed before you even turned around. He leaned against the wall just outside the locker room, damp curls sticking to his forehead, sleeves of his Michigan hoodie pushed up his forearms. He looked like he’d just walked off the ice, and right back into your personal space.

You paused, “Don’t you have calls to argue about or something?”

He grinned, all sharp edges and irritating confidence, “I was hoping you’d swing by. Wanted to thank you for earlier, your printing skills were truly elite.”

You tilted your head slightly, “You’re still hung up on that? You must be exhausted from all the grudges you’re carrying.”

Luke pushed off the wall with lazy ease, “Not a grudge. Just a public service. Thought I’d give you a little reality check before your delusions got out of hand.”

You blinked, stunned by the sheer nerve of him, “Excuse me?”

“You act like you’re some rising exec by being in sports management,” He said, stepping closer, “But let’s be honest, you hang around the team like it’ll magically get you somewhere. Like it’s just your golden ticket to the press box, or maybe to dating someone on the roster.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, “I’m in this program because I actually want a career in sports,” You snapped with your voice low, “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered, “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You think being drafted makes you untouchable. But you’re just another kid with a big name coasting on your back.”

That landed. You saw it, the moment his jaw clenched slightly. His smirk dipped for half a second. But then it was back,

“Don’t act like you know me,” He told you with his voice firm

“Oh, believe me, I don’t want to,” You shot back, “But unfortunately, you keep making that impossible.”

“Wow. You guys really going for Round Two today?” Ethan appeared at the end of the hallway, his hair still wet from a post-practice shower. He looked between you and Luke like he’d just walked into the middle of a fight he hadn’t agreed to referee.

Luke stepped back, his eyes still locked on yours, “Just offering her some career advice.”

“Yeah,” You muttered, brushing past him, “Let me know when you’re finally qualified to give it.”

You pushed through the exit doors, cold air hitting your face in an instant, wind threading through your hair like ice. It wasn’t just that Luke was rude. It was that he saw you and chose to treat you like you didn’t belong. Like your ambition was cute but pointless. Like you’d never belong in the world of sports. 

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You stood near the long folding table by the windows, clipboard in one hand, your other hand rifling through a pile of jerseys that weren’t in the right order. Your hair kept falling in your face, sticking slightly from the humidity that rose with the sheer body heat in the room. You pushed it back absently, scanning the team media schedule you’d printed that morning.

Behind you, Ethan Edwards was laughing at something one of the freshmen players had said, but he still caught your eye every few minutes to make sure you were doing okay. You appreciated that about him, how he always managed to make sure you didn’t feel like just background noise.

He wandered over to you between photoshoots, “You surviving the chaos?”

You laughed lightly, “Barely, they keep knocking the sponsor signs off the walls. I’ve re-taped the same Tim Hortons logo four times.”

“Honestly, you’re the only reason this thing is running at all,” Ethan said, peeling the backing off a fresh name tag and handing it to you, “They should put you on payroll.”

You shrugged, “It’s just part of the internship, it helps my resume.”

“Still, you didn’t have to stay this late, I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

You smiled at that, “You said you wanted to hang out after, remember? I figured I’d earn it first by helping out your team”

Ethan looked like he was about to say something else but then the locker room door swung open with a solid thud, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Luke Hughes walked in, late as always. His shoulder pads still on beneath his school-branded jersey, a helmet tucked under one arm. His cheeks were flushed from the cold of the rink, and his eyes landed on you almost immediately.

Something in his posture changed, but you didn’t look away. Luke’s gaze dragged across the room, and then his voice cut through the chaos, smooth and loud enough to turn heads, “Oh. She’s still around? I thought she would’ve made other friends by now.”

The words floated in the air for a second too long. Your heart dropped and you froze, caught in that horrible space between wanting to say something and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under your skin.

A few of the guys laughed awkwardly, but most went quiet.

Ethan’s face dropped instantly. “Hughesy, chill dude.”

Luke shrugged as started unlacing his skates, completely unaffected.

You tried to brush it off, and try not to let the tears build up in your eyes. But the room suddenly felt too loud, too bright, too small.

“I should just go,” You said quietly to no one in particular as you quickly wiped the threatening tears away from your eyes while you shoved your things into your bag.

“No, hey,” Ethan stepped between you and the doorway with his hand out, “No stay, c’mon you said you’d hang out today.”

“Maybe on your walk back, you can meet some girls you can actually be friends with,” Luke chirped without looking at you, “Then you’ll have someone to hang out with instead of showing up here every day.”

Silence fell again but this time, no one laughed. Not even Mark, who normally matched Luke’s sarcasm beat for beat, looked down at his phone and said nothing.

You felt your throat tighten as you clutched the strap of your bag, “I just—” You started, barely holding your voice steady, “I should go… I’m sorry Eddy, maybe another time.”

You shoved the clipboard you held gently into Ethan’s chest and turned toward the hallway, footsteps echoing too loud in the silence that followed. You didn’t hear Luke say anything else, though whether he actually stopped or you just blocked him out, you weren’t sure.

Ethan caught up with you a few seconds later, his brows furrowed with a mix of concern and quiet frustration. You shook your head at him, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to sting.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly

You looked up at him, “I’m really sorry, Eddy. I just… I don’t want to be there if I’m not welcome. I don’t get why he’s still acting like this,” You told him before you paused as your voice cracked slightly, “It’s been over a year. I was hoping he’d drop the bit by now.”

Ethan sighed, running his hand through his hair, “Me too. I thought he had.”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself without realizing it, “I don’t even care that he doesn’t like me, but I know that I don’t deserve to be humiliated in front of half the team.”

“You don’t,” Ethan’s jaw tightened, “And if he says anything like that again, I’ll call him out harder.”

“I don’t want you to fight my battles,” You told him gently, still trying to hold onto your pride, “I just want to do my job and not feel like I’m a joke for showing up.”

Ethan nodded, like he understood on a level deeper than just sympathy.

You took a breath, mainly to steady yourself, “Thanks for coming after me.”

“Always,” He said with a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, “You’re not alone in this.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The post-media day haze settled like a fog over the house as each of the boys slowly walked in, dropping their hockey bags by the door. A half-eaten pizza box lay open on the coffee table, the TV screen glowed with some muted sports replay, and the clatter of video game controllers had faded into nothing. The guys were around, with some on their phones, others talking in low voices, but for once it wasn’t loud.

He hadn’t said a word since you left Yost. Not when Ethan went after you with that look on his face. Not when Mark gave him that sharp, disappointed shake of the head. Not when no one cracked a joke to break the tension in the media room.

He sat slouched at the end of the couch, bouncing his knee, a lukewarm Gatorade bottle clutched in one hand. The kind of silence that stretched on too long had always made him feel itchy, like he was standing on a sheet of thin ice, and everyone else could hear it cracking but him.

God, what the hell had he said? He reflected on how the words had come out fast, too fast. That smug, sharp tone that always cut too deep when he let it. He hadn’t meant it the way it landed. Except maybe he had.

The front door opened, cool night air slipping in as another one of his housemates entered the house. He heard them shut it behind themselves with more force than necessary. The guys kept their heads down, Luke didn’t look up until Ethan dropped into the chair across from him.

“You seriously need to cut the shit,” Ethan told him, his voice wasn’t loud, but there was an edge in it and disappointment. A lot of it.

Luke exhaled, slow and heavy, “It was a joke.”

Ethan’s laugh was empty, “You think that was funny?” He asked, “Making her feel like garbage in front of everyone?”

Luke shrugged, jaw tight, “She doesn’t need you to defend her. She gives it back just fine.”

“Yeah, she does. But that’s not the point, Luke,” Ethan leaned forward as elbows pressed onto his knees, “You don’t get it, do you?”

Luke didn’t answer and Ethan continued to stare at him, “You think she’s just some girl hanging around the team for fun?”

“She’s always around,” Luke mumbled, with a roll of his eyes, “It’s not like-”

“She’s around because she’s doing work,” Ethan snapped, “The kind of work no one thanks her for. The kind of work that makes our lives easier.”

Luke blinked, clearly taken aback from Ethan’s tone.

“You ever filled out a compliance form? Coordinated team travel with six guys forgetting to turn in their info? Talked to a professor to help get someone excused from a class for away games?” Ethan’s voice rose, “No? Because she does all of that. Quietly. Without complaint.”

Luke opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“She goes to class, works a part-time job, handles internship stuff, runs media days, helps keep the coaching staff sane, and still finds time to show up and support this team more than half of the people getting scholarships to play here.”

Luke stared at the floor, his throat dry and his fingers fumbling with the silicon bracelet that surrounded the rim of his gatorade bottle.

“And you treat her like she’s in the way,” Ethan’s voice had dropped to a low tone, “Like she’s some annoying fan who doesn’t belong.”

A beat passed, then Ethan added, “She told me the other day she thinks you hate her.”

Luke sat back further into the couch cushions. He hadn’t realized she thought that, but he remembered the look on her face from earlier. The way her voice cracked when she said she should just go. The look in her eyes when she apologized to Ethan, like she was the one at fault. Like he hadn’t just dragged her down in front of the entire team for a quick laugh.

“I don’t hate her,” Luke said, but even to his own ears, it didn’t sound convincing.

“Then what is it?” Ethan asked, softer now, “Because if you like her, you’ve got the worst way of showing it. And if you don’t, then why can’t you leave her the hell alone?”

Luke didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to explain the way something in him twisted up whenever he saw you laughing with the guys, how he hated that it felt like you fit in better than he did sometimes. That you didn’t carry the weight he did, of the Hughes name, the fourth overall draft pick, the spotlight, and still shined like it came naturally. Like you didn’t have to try.

That when you looked at him, he couldn’t tell if you saw Luke Hughes, third brother, NHL-bound golden boy... or just Luke, who didn’t know what the hell he was doing half the time.

“She didn’t want to make it awkward,” Ethan told him, “She just wanted to help and you made her feel like an inconvenience.”

Luke looked up from his lap to his friend who was already staring back at him.

“You’re gonna go pro,” Ethan continued as he kept his voice gentle, “You’ve got everything lined up. But if you keep pushing people like her away, you’re going to get there and find out you lost something way more important.”

And with that, Ethan stood and walked down out of the living room, his footsteps fading up the stairs and into his bedroom. Luke sat in his same position on the couch, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor as he thought back to your interactions that day.

You didn’t go to the rink the next day, you didn’t even leave your apartment. Your desk lamp was the only source of light in the room, casting a warm glow across your cluttered desk, dimly lighting over your half-finished notes. Outside the window of your bedroom, morning had come and gone, unnoticed. The sky was overcast, soft and heavy with the threat of rain and occasionally, wind rattled the loose pane in the top corner of the glass.

You pulled your sweatshirt tighter around your frame with your legs tucked beneath you in the chair by your desk. One hand rested on your trackpad, aimlessly scrolling through your mock proposal for University of Michigan Sports and Athletics’ Management Department though you hadn’t read a word of what you have written in the past twenty minutes.

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t focus. Not after yesterday. Your mind drifted back to the locker room, the scuffed tile floors, the sharp tang of sweat and men’s deodorant in the air, the echo of camera shutters, of laughter that didn’t feel like it included you. And then, his voice. That perfectly timed jab that landed like a punch to the chest, right in front of everyone.

“Oh she’s still around? I thought she would’ve made friends by now.”

You hadn’t said anything. Just laughed awkwardly, a fragile sound that cracked at the edges. And then you left, before your throat could fully close and before anyone could see your face fall.

You were drawn out of your trance when your phone buzzed for the third time that morning.

Ethan :) : Hey, you good?

Ethan :) : We’re doing promo photos. You usually run the form chart, remember?

Ethan :) : Melanie said you haven’t been in all day, where are you?

You bit your lip, staring at the screen, thumb hovering. The memory of Luke’s smirk flickered in your mind, rather than responding to Ethan like you usually did, you opted to turn your phone facedown. Let them figure it out without you for once.

The air in your room felt heavier than usual, like it hadn’t been moved in hours. Maybe it hadn’t. You hadn’t opened a window and you didn’t shower in the morning like normal. The coffee from this morning was still sitting in the mug beside your laptop, now cold and untouched.

It wasn’t just the embarrassment that was chewing away inside of you. It was the accumulation. You’d worked your ass off all freshman year to prove you could hang in the sport management world, especially one so saturated with guys who either underestimated you or overestimated your interest in them. But you did it. You'd navigated the politics of team culture, built trust, juggled fifteen-hour weeks between your classes and your assignments, and somehow made it all work.

And still, with just one careless comment, Luke Hughes had managed to reduce all of that to nothing. Like you were just there, tagging along, tolerated but not wanted. Worse, no one really stood up for you.  Even Ethan, who you knew meant well, had tried to smooth it over like it was just Luke being Luke. It wasn’t some harmless teasing joke anymore, not when it had chipped away at your confidence, your joy, and your reason for showing up.

You exhaled shakily and clicked to your email inbox. One new message notification.

From: Coach Email Subject: Missed you at the rink, everything alright? Hey Y/N. Noticed that you didn't show up today for team photos. Just checking to see if you're alright.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over your keyboard as you debated your options. You could lie and say you had a midterm or caught the flu. Something they’d believe, no questions asked. Instead, your fingers typed something honest.

From: Y/N Email Subject: Re: Missed you at the rink, everything alright? Hi Coach. Would it be possible to reassign me from hockey media duties for a few weeks? I think it might be good to rotate to another varsity team. I’m happy to take on football or rugby if coverage is needed. — Y/N.

You stared at the blinking cursor for a moment before pressing send while inhaling sharply, within seconds, a response message appeared in your inbox

From: Coach Email Subject: Re: Missed you at the rink, everything alright? Understood. Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll switch you to football for now. Hope all is well.

You leaned back in your chair, your eyes still glued to the email as you tried to accept your changing reality.

Outside, the wind finally delivered on its promise. Rain began tapping against the window in soft, uneven rhythms. First as a drizzle, then steadily, soaking the glass and blurring the view of North Campus in watercolor streaks.

You watched students walk by on the sidewalks in front of your house, each under umbrellas, some sprinting for cover, some strolling like they had nowhere to be. Each of them moving, existing, belonging. And you? You felt frozen and stuck in a space you had once loved, now made hollow by one boy’s casual cruelty.

Your phone vibrated against your desk again.

Ethan :) : Wasn’t the same without you today.

Ethan :) : Let me know if you want to talk.

You stared at his text message, you sighed and typed out a reply, deleted it, and tried again.

You: Hey. Sorry I’ve been off. Yesterday just kind of… sucked.

You didn’t know what else to say to Ethan, and Ethan, ever the fast replier, his response came.

Ethan :) : Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, he was way out of line. I talked to him last night.

Ethan :) : You didn’t deserve that, okay?

You closed your eyes and you wished you could believe him. You wished the ache in your chest didn’t twist tighter at the thought of walking back into that locker room, or bumping into Luke in the hallway, or sitting next to players who had laughed but said nothing.

So instead, you stayed wrapped in your hoodie, feet curled beneath you, fingers tracing the rim of your forgotten coffee cup. You opened your planner and started filling in blocks with highlighters, pretending that color-coded to-do lists were enough to restore control, but you found yourself staring blankly at the pages. And for the first time in a while, you let yourself cry.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The locker room had long emptied out, but Luke stayed in his locker with his phone in hand as he texted his brothers. His curls were sticking to the back of his neck and his hoodie was draped over his lap. The air reeked of sweat and stale Gatorade, the blinding lights above casting their dim yellow tinge that made everything look more tired.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t left yet, even though he was certain that his teammates and housemates had already gone back. Just that something about the silence tightened the knot in his chest. Then he heard Ethan’s voice from down the hall, “Hey, hey, slow down. I can barely hear you.”

His tone was unfamiliar, nothing like the playful Ethan that Luke was used to hearing. His voice was gentle but strained. Luke sat up straighter.

Ethan was near the coaches’ offices, standing in that narrow hallway with his phone pressed tight to his ear. His back was to the wall, shoulders slightly hunched like your voice on the other end of the call might crack if he breathed too loud.

Luke didn’t need to ask who he was talking to, he already knew.

Your name wasn’t said. It didn’t have to be. There was a trembling edge in Ethan’s voice, and in the silence between his words, Luke could hear you sniffling, breathing in those tiny hitched gasps that meant you were crying and trying not to be and something cold twisted in his gut.

“Where are you right now?” Ethan asked you, there was a pause that was filled with silence. Luke looked away. He hated himself for listening, hated himself even more for wanting to, “You don’t have to apologize, alright? You’ve done so much for us, hell, we’d be lost without you half the time.”

Another pause, “I mean it. None of the guys know what you're juggling. You show up early, stay late, you handle everything. And you never ask for anything in return.”

Luke’s heart dropped like a stone in his chest. He had noticed those things, every one of them. He’d noticed how you always showed up to the rink earlier than anyone, laptop in hand, hair still wet from your morning shower. How your shoulders stiffened every time the locker room doors opened and you had to brace for whatever mess someone left for you. He noticed how you never complained. How you always figured it out and he’d respond with sarcasm and smug little digs, like an idiot.

Ethan’s voice was quieter, “I'm coming to get you, okay? Just tell me where you are.”

Luke turned slightly, just enough to glance around the corner and that’s when Ethan saw him. The glare he sent felt like a slap. It wasn’t fury. It was disappointment, deeper and sharper than anger ever could be.

Ethan shifted the phone slightly away from his mouth, “You hear that?” He asked him, “She’s crying right now because of the way she’s been treated around here.”

Luke couldn’t breathe and his jaw remained clenched. Ethan stepped forward, voice rising just enough to slice through the stillness, “You think this is just some joke? That teasing her is funny? You think she didn’t show up today for no reason?”

Luke opened his mouth, but the words dried up before they formed.

“She skipped today. Reassigned herself to another team,” Ethan snapped, “And I don’t blame her.”

He looked Luke up and down, shaking his head, “You have no idea what she gives up for us. She stays late editing your goddamn interviews. She helps organize schedules, puts out fires we start, reminds guys about deadlines we all ignore. She makes this entire operation work, and you make her feel like a fucking joke.”

Luke couldn’t look him in the eye because every word was true.

“You act like you’re the only one under pressure. Like your problems are heavier than everyone else’s. And maybe they are. But that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like she’s beneath you,” Ethan stepped toward the door now, phone back to his ear, “I don’t know what your problem is,” He mumbled, half to himself, 

“But if this is how you treat someone who gives a shit about you… maybe you’re not the guy I thought you were.” Ethan told Luke firmly as he threw his letterman jacket over his shoulder and grabbed his bag. He headed out of the locker room and gave one last look over his shoulder, “You want to be a leader? Then stop pretending you don’t care now that she’s gone.”

And then he left. Luke sank back into his locker, the weight in his chest collapsing in on itself like an implosion. Your voice, choked and quiet, haunted the edges of his memory.

The house was silent with your roommates out for the night. You sat curled up in the corner of your couch, knees tucked close to your chest, a throw blanket draped over your shoulders like some kind of protective armor. The tears had come and gone, leaving your eyes dry and sore. Every time you blinked, you felt the sting of regret, the regret that you couldn’t just brush it off. The way Luke had treated you, the way he’d smiled with that arrogant little tilt of his head. You had almost convinced yourself it didn’t matter. That it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

A soft knock on your door jolted you from your thoughts. You didn’t even have to check the time to know it was Ethan. It had been twenty minutes since you’d hung up with him, and you could feel the weight of his concern lingering even through the distance between your two worlds.

You stood, letting the blanket fall from your shoulders, and walked over to the door. Your legs felt heavy, like they weren’t entirely your own as you unlocked the door.

Ethan stood there, the cool night air behind him, carrying the faint scent of rain. His eyes softened when he saw you, his brows pulling together in a way that made your chest tighten. He looked like he was trying to keep it together, just like you had been trying to do.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle but firm, like a steady hand reaching through the chaos, "I’m here."

You nodded, stepping back so he could enter. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing you both inside the small, dimly lit home. Ethan didn’t waste time. He walked toward the couch and when he sat down beside you, the space between you felt vast despite how close he was.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the wrong question would send you further into yourself. You wanted to lie, to say you were fine, but you couldn’t at least not to him. You shook your head, not trusting your voice. Instead, you wrapped your arms tighter around your knees, curling into yourself.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like understanding, like Ethan knew you didn’t need words right now, just presence. He’d always been that way, a friend who could sit with you in your mess without expecting you to explain.

After a few minutes, Ethan sighed deeply, and when he spoke again, his words were measured, like he’d been holding them back for a while.

“Listen… I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but you need to hear it.” He hesitated as you glanced at him, his gaze steady but full of something else. Worry? Pain? You weren’t too sure, but it made your throat tighten.

“I hate seeing you like this,” He told you, “I hate seeing you put yourself last just to clean up our messes. You’ve been doing that for way too long.”

You blinked, unsure of how to process his words. You weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him talk like this. Ethan continued, his voice growing more intense, “You take care of everyone else, Luke, Mark, all of us. But who takes care of you when you’re the one falling apart?”

The truth of it hit you hard, but you couldn’t let him see that. You didn’t want to seem weak, especially not now, “I’m fine, Ethan,” You said, your voice shaky but trying to sound confident, “I’m just tired.”

His eyes softened, and he shook his head lowly, “No, you’re not and you’re burning out, and I can’t stand watching you do that to yourself.”

You swallowed thickly, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. But they were there, just below the surface, and you could feel them threatening to spill again.

“Luke…” you started, your voice soft and shaky, but you couldn’t finish. 

Ethan didn’t interrupt. He just looked at you, his gaze understanding, “He’s an idiot, you know that, right? You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re invisible just because you’re not on a damn hockey rink. You’re smart, you’re hardworking, and you matter.”

The truth in his words, the way he said them like they were facts, made something break inside you. You looked down at your hands and holding your tears back,

“He’s not a bad guy,” You whispered, your voice so small you barely recognized it, “He just... he doesn’t see me, Ethan. Not really.”

Ethan’s face softened, his hand reaching out to gently pull your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, “He does see you, but he’s too scared to admit it.”

You blinked up at him, confusion and disbelief swirling in your chest, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand across his jaw, frustration flickering across his features, “Luke doesn’t know how to handle someone like you.” His words came slowly, as if he was trying to choose them carefully, “He’s not used to people who don’t fit into his world of high expectations and constant pressure. You’ve got it all together in ways he never will and that makes him uncomfortable. So he pushes you away,”

You opened your mouth, but Ethan quickly cut you off.

“I know you think it’s you, but it’s not. It’s him, okay? He’s the one who’s scared.”

Your chest tightened at the weight of his words. For the first time, you wondered if maybe it had never been about you. Maybe it was always about him. You took a deep breath, the air feeling thicker now. You had no idea what the next step was, or if there even was one. 

Ethan’s eyes softened as he watched you, his hand still resting lightly on yours and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, “You don’t have to do this alone,” He told you softly,. “I’ve got your back. I always will.”

You squeezed his hand back, grateful for his unwavering presence, but still, part of you wished you could just step away from the mess of it all. 

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The sound of your phone buzzing on the table in the library barely registered at first. You were focused, as always, on the pile of work in front of you. A mix of emails, assignments, and team-related documents from the last few days had kept you buried in your thoughts. But when your phone buzzed again, the name that flashed across the screen made your stomach twist.

Luke.

You stared at the message for a long moment before reluctantly tapping on the notification. It wasn’t the first time he had tried to reach out, but the sting from his words and actions still hurt you enough to make you not want to reply.

Luke Hughes: Can we talk? I’m sorry. I really need to say something. Meet me at the rink?

You didn’t know what you expected, but something about seeing him try made you hesitate. But the words that followed weren’t what you had hoped for. They felt like empty promises. And you had spent far too much time dealing with apologies that came too late.

You typed back a quick reply before you could talk yourself out of it.

You: Fine. But I’m not sure there’s anything left to say.

He stood at the edge of the rink, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the cold air nipping at his face. The glow from the bright lights above reflected off the ice, casting a soft sheen on everything below. His gaze flickered back toward the entrance, where you were supposed to meet him. His heart pounded, he wasn’t too sure why, but the weight of this conversation felt heavier than any game he had ever played.

It wasn’t like him to apologize. It wasn’t even something he was good at, but Ethan’s words had been haunting him for the past few days, replaying in his mind with every mistake he’d made, every moment he had taken for granted. If there was one thing he knew about himself, it was that he was good at running away from his problems.

When you walked into the rink, your face was hard to read. The walls you’d built up around yourself were even stronger now, like you were trying to make it clear that you didn’t even want to be there. You stopped a few steps away from him, arms crossed over your chest, your eyes studying him with an unreadable expression.

"I’m here," You said flatly, your voice echoing slightly in the large space of the rink, "So say what you need to say."

Luke swallowed, trying to push the lump in his throat down, trying to find the words that he had been avoiding, "I—" He paused, running a hand over his face, "I’m sorry. For everything. The way I’ve treated you. The way I’ve acted. I know I’ve been a complete asshole,"

He looked at you, trying to read your reaction, but your face remained neutral, like you were shutting him out, guarding yourself from getting hurt again. It made his chest tighten. You didn’t immediately respond. Instead, you let out a slow breath, your arms uncrossing, but your body language was still closed off. You stared at him, your eyes full of something he couldn’t quite place, maybe it was the look of hurt.

"You’re sorry," You repeated, your voice calm but with an edge that made him wince, "That’s great, but I’ve heard it before and I’m tired of hearing it."

Luke flinched, the words landing harder than he expected, "I know I’ve said it before, but," He took a step toward you, "This time I mean it. I don’t want you to think I don’t care, because I do. I just-"

You cut him off before he could continue, and your words stung like a slap across the face, "Have you ever thought that maybe not all people care about sports? Some of us care about more important things in life. Family. Friends. And working to support our living. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to screw up and have everything handed to them because they’re good at a stupid game."

Luke blinked, clearly stunned by your words and for a moment, he couldn’t find a way to respond. All of his usual defenses like the sharp retorts and the sarcastic comebacks felt useless.

You shook your head, the cold rink air swirling around you, "I’ve been doing this for so long, Luke. Watching you walk around like the world owes you something, pushing me to the side like I don’t matter. But you don’t get to just pull me back in with an apology, I’ve spent enough time trying to make myself fit into your world, only for you to push me away again."

His chest constricted as you spoke, each word feeling like a blow to the gut. He had always seen you as strong, independent, someone who could handle anything thrown her way. But hearing you say those words, he realized he had never really seen the pressure you were under, the sacrifices you had made just to keep everything in balance.

"I’m sorry," He told you again, the words coming slower now, "I was an idiot. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Hell, I don’t even deserve it, but I want to make it right. If you’ll let me."

The air between you and Luke felt colder than the rink’s steel beams above you. Luke’s apology lingered in the space between you, but the bitterness you had carried for so long wouldn't let you accept it. You shook your head, staring at the frozen surface beneath your sneakers, your arms once again wrapped tightly across your chest. If you let yourself believe him this time, if you let your guard down even a little, you’d be putting yourself at risk. And you couldn’t do that anymore.

"I don’t know why you expect me to believe that, Luke" You said to him, "You’ve apologized before, and you’ve said the same damn thing before, and look where it’s gotten us. You never change."

You looked up at him, your gaze hard, "It’s exhausting. Always waiting for you to actually do something to prove it but you never do, so why should this time be any different?"

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. The anger and regret mixed into something like desperation as he took a hesitant step toward you, "I get it and you should feel that way because I’m the one who’s messed up, and I’m the one who has to fix it. But please," He hesitated while his eyes searched your face, "Give me a chance. I will prove it this time."

“I don’t know, Luke,” You whispered, your voice softer now, the walls you had built around yourself slowly starting to crack, “I just don’t know.”

The silence stretched between you both, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But then, just as you thought you were about to leave the conversation behind you, Luke’s voice broke the quiet.

“Please,” Luke said with a gentle tone, “At least come back to the team. It’s not the same without you. The team misses you. I miss you.”

You could hear the genuine plea in his voice, but even then, it didn’t sway you easily, “I don’t know if I can, Luke. It feels… complicated now.” You shifted your weight, “It’s not just about me being there for you anymore. I need to take care of my own priorities.”

“I get that,” Luke replied, stepping closer, “But you’re not just some background figure. You’ve always been a part of the team, and it’s weird without you there. I miss working with you, with everything you do for the guys. It’s not the same without you.”

You stared at him and despite yourself, you felt a small flicker of something, something like warmth, something like a reminder of the bond you once shared. But it was buried beneath so many layers now, so many wounds, that it felt almost impossible to touch.

“I don’t know, Luke. I just… I need some time.” Your words were softer now, quieter, but no less firm. “I don’t know if I can just pick up where we left off like nothing’s happened.”

Luke took another step, just a fraction closer, and his eyes softened with understanding. “I don’t expect you to, I know I’ve lost your trust but I just want to make it right.”

You looked down at your feet, the weight of his words pressing against you like a physical force. Maybe, just maybe, you could give him a chance, but you weren’t ready to let him back in just yet, “Let me think about it, okay?” You said quietly before turning toward the door. 

He nodded, the silence between you both growing heavy again before you pushed past the glass doors and started heading home for the night. 

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You hadn’t expected to feel so out of place, but the moment you stepped back into the team’s office for your internship, it was like you had never left. The familiar hum of printers, the clutter of gear bags stacked in corners, the whiteboards covered in tactical diagrams, it all looked the same. But the atmosphere felt a little different now, like everyone was walking on eggshells around you.

Ethan and Mark were the first to notice you walk in, their heads snapping up from their conversation as if they had been waiting for you to return. Ethan’s face immediately broke into a smile, his expression clearly thrilled that you decided to come back rather than work with the football team. Mark, on the other hand, gave you a short nod, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you with a protective, almost assessing look.

"Hey," Ethan greeted as he walked over to you, making a point to stand a little closer than necessary, his broad frame almost shielding you from the rest of the room. It was a subtle gesture, but you noticed it, "Good to see you back."

You smiled weakly, "Thanks, Eddy, it’s good to be back."

Mark’s gaze flickered toward the door, his expression hardening slightly. You followed his gaze just as Luke entered the office, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. The room seemed to tighten in response, a collective shift in the air as everyone adjusted to his presence.

You could feel the old tension immediately. Luke’s eyes briefly met yours, but you didn’t acknowledge him. You weren’t ready to let him in, not yet. Instead, you turned to Ethan and Mark, who seemed to sense your discomfort instantly. Ethan leaned closer, lowering his voice to make sure only you could hear.

"Just let us know if you want to step out, okay?" Ethan told you, his tone barely above a whisper, "We’ve got your back."

You nodded, grateful for the quiet support, but you didn’t want to make it obvious to Luke that you needed it. That would give him the satisfaction of knowing he was still affecting you, even now.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice uncharacteristically soft for the first time in a while. "Can we talk for a minute?"

You didn’t answer right away, and instead, your eyes shifted to Ethan and Mark. Both were standing just a little too close to you, their arms subtly brushing against yours in a way that felt comforting. They didn’t say anything, but the protective stance they took was clear. They were not going to let you be alone with Luke. 

 "You can talk to her later, Luke. Maybe after the team meeting." Ethan told him with his tone that was casual yet protective, "We’ve got things to do now."

After a long breath, Luke nodded, giving you a final hesitant glance before turning to walk toward the back of the office, muttering something under his breath to one of the coaches. You could feel the weight of the conversation lingering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to follow.

Mark gave you a brief glance, "You okay?" He asked you

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest told you that you were anything but okay, "Yeah. Just a lot to figure out."

Ethan, ever the optimist, gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’re here for you, and don’t worry about Luke. He’s not going to get in the way of what you need to do."

You gave them both a small smile, feeling the weight of their protection and support settle over you like a blanket. As the hours passed, you kept your focus on the work at hand, doing your best to ignore the tension between you and Luke, even as it lingered in the air, thick and unspoken. Ethan and Mark were there, making sure the space around you remained safe, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t help but feel the pull of something unresolved, something that needed to be addressed sooner or later. For now, you were surrounded by the team again, your internship resuming with a new sense of wariness, and the fragile thread of your relationship with Luke hanging in the balance.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The arena was nearly empty, the echo of your footsteps echoing off the cold and concrete walls. The usual hum of activity from the hockey excitement had long since dissipated, the buzz of the game had been replaced by the silence of late-night work.

You should’ve been home hours ago, but there was always more work to do. Always another form to fill out, another task on the checklist to complete. The workload never ended for you, not when there was always something else to be done, another deadline to meet. It was the price you paid for being one of the few students with an internship tied to the hockey team. The job wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours, and you were determined to prove you could handle it. Even if it meant spending a Friday night buried in paperwork while everyone else had already gone home to their weekend plans.

Your back ached from being hunched over the desk for so long, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. You ran a hand through your hair before pulling it into a messy bun and adjusted your hoodie over your frame.

The facility felt colder now, quieter. The team’s locker rooms were dark, the zamboni machines in their corners waiting for their next shift. You sighed, rolling your shoulders back to loosen up the tension. It had been a tough week, just one of those weeks where everything seemed to pile on top of you at once. You didn’t even have the time to think about the tension between you and Luke, let alone confront it.

The sound of sneakers padding against the cold concrete broke the stillness, and you didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

"Late night, huh?" Luke asked, his tone wasn’t the usual sarcastic you’d grown used to. He sounded... neutral, maybe even a little concerned.

You didn’t have the energy to deal with it tonight. Not with everything already weighing you down. Not with the frustration you had bottled up every time he had pulled that same smug attitude around you.

You looked up at him, annoyance flashing in your tired eyes, "What do you care?" You snapped, your voice sharper than you had intended, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest for your next game or at some frat party?"

Luke blinked, taken aback by your tone, but he didn’t pull back as he just stood there, his gaze softening slightly as he studied you, "I wasn’t trying to make fun of you," he said slowly, his voice almost hesitant now. 

But you were too far gone, already on the edge of your limits. All the exhaustion, all the stress, all the things you’d been bottling up came crashing down on you in that moment, and before you could stop it, the words slipped out.

"It’s not just hockey," You breathed out, your voice cracking slightly, a tear you hadn’t even realized falling down your cheek,  "It’s everything, I’m always running on empty, trying to do everything for everyone, trying to prove I’m good enough for this stupid internship when no one even thinks I belong here in the first place. It’s too much."

You blinked your eyes quickly as you tried to stop yourself from letting the tears fall, but it was already too late. The tears came, spilling over in frustration, exhaustion, and all the pressure you had been holding in.

Luke’s expression shifted to something softer, more vulnerable in his gaze now, something that made you pause even in the midst of your breakdown.

“Hey,” He said, his voice low and steady, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry.”

No one had ever said that to you before, not like that, and not with that kind of genuine care, like he wasn’t trying to fix you, but just to be there for you. You tried to brush the tears away, frustrated with yourself for even letting them fall, but it was impossible to stop now. You were too tired, too broken down, too stretched thin to keep up your mask.

Luke hesitated for a moment, and then, without saying another word, he moved closer, his presence suddenly surrounding you. He was still quiet, his steps tentative as though he wasn’t sure whether to comfort you, but it was clear he wanted to. He just didn’t know how to do it without making things worse. But the hesitation, the careful nature of his actions, was almost comforting. 

“You’ve been doing this alone, haven’t you?” His voice was soft, almost like he was reading your mind, “All of this pressure and you’re carrying it all by yourself.”

"I’m sorry," You mumbled out, your voice trembling as you were embarrassed by the tears, "I shouldn’t be acting like this."

Luke’s hand suddenly appeared on your shoulder and this touch was gentle, “It’s okay,” He told you and his eyes were sincere, like he wasn’t just saying the words but actually meant them for once, “I never really understood what you’ve been managing, but I can see it now and you’re doing your best. You’re doing something a lot of people wouldn’t even think to do.”

The quiet sincerity of his words hit you like a wave. For the first time, in that moment, you felt seen. The tension between you that had been simmering for a while now, it didn’t matter anymore.

You sniffled, wiping at your face with the back of your hand, and nodded again as you tried to regain your composure. Luke stood still, not rushing you, just waiting. When you finally looked up at him, you saw the same hesitant expression, but there was something else in his eyes now, like something more gentle and less guarded.

“Let me walk you home,” He offered suddenly, which broke the silence that fell between you two, “It’s late and you shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You hesitated, there was a part of you that wanted to turn him down, mainly to maintain your distance. But, at the same time, you were so tired, and the thought of walking home in the dark alone didn’t feel safe.

You looked at him and for the first time in a while, you felt that maybe he wasn’t the same person who had been so rude to you earlier in the year.

"Okay," You nodded, the word slipping out easier than you expected it to, "Thank you."

Luke gave you a small and genuine smile that tugged at the edges of his lips, and for the first time since you had met him, the tension in your chest seemed to loosen a little. Tonight, he wasn’t the enemy, rather he was someone who was there, offering to help you find your way home. The two of you left the arena side by side, the cold night air surrounding you, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like the defenseman hated you.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The campus was quiet the next morning, the kind of quiet that only came after the rush of classes and team practices. The late autumn air had a crisp to it, carrying with it the faint scent of fallen leaves and the promise of cooler days ahead. You walked across the quad, your backpack slung over one shoulder, the late night still fresh in your mind. You had spent the rest of the evening trying to shake off the exhaustion that seemed to have seeped into every part of you. You somehow felt lighter. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were holding your breath, constantly bracing for the next blow from Luke. Maybe it was just the relief of finally not being alone in your stress.

When you turned the corner of the crosswalk, you spotted Luke leaning against the brick wall with his hockey bag at his feet, eyes scanning the campus like he was waiting for someone. The moment he saw you, he pushed off from the wall and made his way to you..

"Hey," He greeted with his voice a little rough, like he hadn’t quite woken up yet, "I thought I’d catch you before you headed to class."

You nodded as you unsure what to say, you weren’t exactly expecting to see him this morning. Last night had been a turning point, but it felt too soon to figure out what it all meant. Was it just a random moment of kindness? Or was something changing between the two of you?

“Oh, thanks for last night,” You said quietly and Luke’s expression softened.

“Don’t mention it," He told you before clearing his throat, "You were... you seemed like you needed someone. It’s no big deal."

The easy, almost careless way he dismissed it made you smile despite yourself. It was almost like he was trying not to make a big deal out of his actions, but you could tell by the slight shift in his tone and the way his gaze lingered on you that he was at least starting to understand. Before you could respond, a voice from behind you interrupted the moment.

"Really?" Ethan called out, you turned to see him approaching the two of you with his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught sight of Luke. 

"You’re really gonna start acting like a good guy now?" Ethan scoffed, but Luke didn’t flinch. He just stood there with his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold something back.

“Ethan, it’s okay,” You reassured him while keeping your voice steady, though you could feel a tiny shake of nervousness running through you, “I’m not a kid anymore, you don’t have to defend me from everyone.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed, his gaze flicking between you and Luke, searching for any signs of insincerity from either of you, “I know you’re not a kid, but you’ve been through enough with this guy. He’s not just going to suddenly change and become your best friend, just because he’s decided to play nice now.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, but you had to admit, Ethan had a good point. You had your doubts too, although you felt like something was different this time. The apology wasn’t just a word, you had felt the sincerity behind it.

“I know, Ethan,” You sighed, “But last night when he helped me, it wasn’t like how he used to act, I just need you to trust me on this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” He told you as his voice stayed low, “I’ve been watching you get pushed around by this guy for the past year and whatever number of months, I don’t care if he’s showing up with some half-assed apology now. He hurt you (Y/N), you can’t just forget that.”

Luke didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, letting the silence hang between them and for a moment, you thought maybe it would escalate into something else, but then Luke broke the tension, his voice quieter than it had been before.

“Dude, I get it,” He said as a sigh escaped him, “I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I don’t expect it to come easy. I’m trying to do better for her. I just need a chance to show I’m not that person anymore.”

You glanced at Luke as you searched his expression. There was no arrogance there now, just an honesty that made you think maybe  he was telling the truth. Ethan was still hesitant, his gaze hard, but his posture softened as he looked between you and Luke.

 “I don’t know,” He mumbled, with his eyes still on you.

“You don’t have to,” You reached out to place a hand on Ethan’s arm, “But I trust him, okay? I need you to trust me, too.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything but with a slow nod, Ethan stepped back, still wary,

“Fine,” He breathed out but still not fully convinced, “But if he messes up again, I’m not letting you go through that again.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

Luke sat next to you on the wooden bench in the hallway outside of the locker room, with his legs stretched out, a half-empty Gatorade bottle dangling from his fingers. Practice had ended nearly an hour ago, but you’d stayed behind, sorting through a pile of tangled jerseys and team media requests at the small table. You didn’t notice he had stayed behind too until you turned around and he was leaning against the wall, watching you without saying a word.

That used to annoy you, with the quiet way he hovered, like he was too good to speak unless it was to make a snide remark. But now it felt slightly different. He was still quiet, still awkward in his stillness. But his presence wasn’t sharp anymore. It was softer, less suffocating. He didn’t speak unless you looked at him first. He didn’t push. He didn’t tease. He was just there and honestly, that meant more than you could say.

“Here,” He said, finally breaking the silence as he offered you the bottle. You took it without thinking, the plastic cool against your palm even though you weren’t even thirsty.

“Thanks,” You murmured as you kept your eyes on the hallway floor. You were just tired, drained from balancing everything: classes, your internship, the emotional strain of still trying to believe Luke wouldn’t shoot some insult to you at that moment.

“You always stay this late?” He asked quietly.

You glanced over at him, “Lately, yeah.”

He nodded slowly, “You ever get a break?”

You gave a dry laugh as you typed away at your laptop, “Not really.”

He went quiet again, and for a moment you worried he’d say something backhanded or smug. That old instinct to brace yourself coming up, but it faded as you caught the way his brows pinched slightly, like the idea of you constantly overworking yourself actually bothered him.

“You shouldn’t have to do all of this by yourself,” He commented as he fiddled with his phone, “The team relies on you for everything. I didn’t realize how much until you stopped coming around.”

You shrugged, “No one really noticed before.”

“I noticed and I was a dick,” He added, “To you for no reason.”

You stayed silent, your fingers curling around the edge of the table in front of you.

“You were always just so good at everything, smart, and confident. People actually wanted you around. And I don’t know, I guess I hated that.”

You blinked as the words continued to fall from his mouth.

“I mean, not hated,” Luke corrected quickly with his cheeks slightly flustered, “I just  resented it. You didn’t have to constantly prove yourself the way I do. You’re not expected to be some golden child or carry a last name.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the words spilling out now, “And Ethan, he’s always been close to you. He talks about you like you’re this genius superhero, and it pissed me off. I told myself you thought you were better than everyone, but you weren’t. You were just doing your job. You’ve always worked harder than the rest of us and never asked for anything back.”

You stared at him for a moment as you felt your chest tighten

“That doesn’t make it okay, but I need you to know I know that now.”

You took a slow and slightly shaky breath. The hallway in Yost was so quiet you swore that you could hear your own heartbeat. You didn’t want to forgive him, not entirely, however a part of you recognized how hard it must’ve been for Luke to say any of that. You gave him a small nod, “Thank you.”

He nodded back and gave you a small smile.

Over the next few weeks, things began to shift between you and Luke, not all at once, but slowly. A conversation here, a shared laugh there, just the little things.

He stayed behind after practice more often, offering to help with things you knew he probably hated, like paperwork, setting up video equipment, and adding transcripts on video footage. He didn’t complain, though. He just did it.

One evening after another long day, you handed him a media release form with a weak smile, “You do realize you don’t have to be my assistant, right?”

Luke smirked, “I don’t mind, it makes me feel useful.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him. What surprised you most wasn’t the change in behaviour, but it was how easy the silence between you had become. It was comfortable and friendly, and it didn’t weigh you down anymore. If anything, it started to feel like something you could lean into.

Of course, Ethan still kept a close eye on you. He noticed every time Luke lingered a little longer in the media office. Every time he offered to carry a stack of folders or filled your water bottle without being asked. Every time his gaze lingered on you like he was trying to learn your behaviours and habits that he’d never bothered with before.

One afternoon, as you and Luke stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the gear room, laughing at a crooked helmet sticker, Ethan walked in and froze.

He crossed his arms, eyebrows raised, “You good?”

Luke grinned with amusement, “Better than ever, Eddy.”

You shot Ethan a glance, trying to silently reassure him. You could see the conflict on his face, his desire to protect you and the fact that you weren’t pushing Luke away anymore.

Later that day, as you were packing up your things, Ethan pulled you aside.

“You sure about this?” He asked you gently.

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s different now and I can tell he’s trying, I’m not saying we’re best friends or anything, but I want to see where it goes.”

Ethan sighed as he leaned his head back against his locker, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know,” You whispered, “But I don’t think he wants to hurt me.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The rink was quiet again as it was nearly midnight. The majority of the team had left hours ago, and you should’ve been gone too, but the pile of rosters and unfinished budget forms on your laptop had kept you longer than intended, yet again.

You sat in the small lounge next to the training room, legs curled beneath you on the old leather couch, the only sounds were the hum of the vending machine that stood in the corner and the shuffling of papers on your table.

You didn’t hear Luke come in, it was only when you looked up, when you saw him leaning the the doorway with his hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, a quiet sort of tired etched into his features.

“You live here now?” He chuckled as he leaned further against the doorframe.

You managed a half-smile, “Sure feels like it.”

He gave you a smile before he walked in to grab a chair, and sit across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like being here with you, even past midnight, was exactly where he wanted to be.

You closed your laptop slowly, sensing something different in the air tonight, “You okay?”

 Luke looked off as if he was debating whether or not to tell you about the thoughts running through his head, “I used to think if I wasn’t the best, I was nothing.”

You blinked as you were startled by his confession.

He stared down at his hands, picking at a thread on his sleeve, “My brothers, Jack and Quinn, they’ve always been incredible. NHL stars, everyone talks about them like they’re gods. I love them, I do. But growing up in that constant shadow, it messes with your head.”

You stayed quiet, sensing he wasn’t finished as his mouth opened and shut a few times in the silence, 

“I got drafted and everyone said I’d made it. But I still feel like I’m just trying to catch up, like no matter what I do, I’m always just Luke Hughes, the little brother.” He looked up at you, eyes drooping slightly from fatigue, “You probably think that’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t,” You told him softly

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “You always seem like you have it figured out, Ethan thinks you’re the glue holding this whole program together.”

“That;s not true,” You mumbled, “I’m just holding myself together long enough to get through each day.”

His brows furrowed as you spoke, you took a shaky breath, the words slipping out before you could catch them, “My parents are barely getting by at home, I’m working this internship unpaid, taking on shifts at the student center, applying for scholarships every semester just to stay here. Some nights I don’t sleep, so I just try not to drown.”

The room fell into a weighted silence, you looked at him and you saw not just the hockey player. Not the cocky, golden-boy persona he typically wore. You saw the boy behind it all, tired, afraid, trying so hard not to fall short of the people around him and it felt a lot like looking into a mirror.

“I think we’re more alike than we realized.”

Luke met your gaze, something soft and quiet flickering in his expression, “Yeah,I think so too.”

Neither of you moved for a long time, you didn’t need to. It felt safe and it felt like the start of something new.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You weren’t even sure why you agreed to come.

The hockey house was already booming with music by the time you got there, windows glowing blue and gold from the inside, bass thumping hard enough to feel in your chest. They were celebrating yet another win. You hadn’t been to one of these in a while, but Ethan had asked, and the way he’d looked at you with that half hopeful and half protective look, made it impossible to say no.

Besides, you missed this, not the chaos and not the sticky floors or the overpowering cologne clouds. But rather the people and the moments when you could just exist without carrying everything on your back.

“Come on,” Ethan had said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he led you into the house, “We’ll stick together, just like old times.”

For the first hour, it was fine as you stayed near the kitchen while Ethan handed you a solo cup with something vaguely citrusy inside. You talked with Mark and Dylan, laughed with a couple of the rookies who had no idea how much of the team’s media magic was your doing. You felt seen and in a way you hadn’t for a while.

Then Ethan got pulled away, something about someone stealing his speaker and you found yourself standing alone by the counter, your cup mostly empty and your body buzzing more from exhaustion than the drink you held.

Luke showed up like he always did, the sleeves of his black t-shirt hugging his biceps perfectly, curls still damp from a shower, and his usual smug energy was replaced by something lighter. He didn’t say anything at first as he just nodded at you like he’d been waiting for a moment like this all night.

You raised a brow, “What? No sarcastic comment about how I’m slumming it with the peasants?”

His lips curved into a slow smirk, “I’ve been working on that.”

“Your sarcasm?”

“No, not being a jackass.”

You snorted, and he laughed, the sound warm and open in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. A few people brushed past you as the hallway was tightening with bodies, so he shifted closer, not too close, but enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Ethan ditched me,” You told him as you glanced around, “So much for sticking together.”

Luke tilted his head with a small knowing smile, “Guess that makes me your emergency contact now.”

You gave him a side-eye, “That’s a terrifying thought.”

He grinned, “I’m excellent in emergencies, watch this.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he darted away and returned seconds later with a fresh cup with same citrusy drink, but colder this time.

“See? Life-saving,” He said while handing it to you with a cocked bow.

You rolled your eyes but took it, “Heroic.”

You ended up finding a quieter spot in the corner of the living room, where the music wasn’t as deafening and the couch cushions didn’t smell like beer yet. The two of you talked, like really talked. About stupid things, like the worst pregame pump-up songs on the team’s playlist. About more real things too: how overwhelming classes had been and upcoming exams and deadlines.

At one point, you were both laughing so hard your drink almost spilled. Luke was telling a story about Mark locking himself out of the team bus in only compression shorts, and you could barely breathe, cheeks aching from the large smile that was stretched across your face.

“I forgot you were funny,” You said between giggles.

“I forgot you could stand being around me,” He replied.

You looked at him and there was no mask this time and no shields. Just Luke, and it startled you how comfortable you felt because of how easy it was to be near him when the tension was stripped away.

Someone bumped into the couch which caused some of the cushions to shift. You swayed slightly, your shoulder brushing his, and he didn’t move but neither did you.

“Hey,” He added after a moment, voice low, “I like this.”

“This?” You asked, pretending not to notice the closeness of your bodies.

“Being around you when I’m not screwing it up.”

You swallowed hard as your heart skipped a beat or two while you didn’t know what to say. You enjoyed it too, it was easy and comfortable. The way your laughter hung in the air between you. The way the noise of the party blurred into the background. The way Luke looked at you like a person he wanted to get to know.

You were content to stay right where you were.

The party had started to thin out by the time you stepped outside, the music still humming behind the walls like an echo refusing to die. The night air wrapped around your shoulders like a relief, it was cool and calm, scented faintly with pine and wet pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed by, headlights cutting briefly across the sidewalk before disappearing into the dark.

Luke stood beside you. He hadn’t said anything when you pulled your jacket on. Just followed you to the door like he’d already decided he wasn’t letting you walk home alone. You didn’t argue. It was late, and your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and a few drinks, and, if you were being honest, a small part of you wanted him there.

You walked in silence at first, shoes scuffing along the uneven pavement, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. Every so often, your arms would brush. Neither of you pulled away.

“Thanks for not letting me sit in a corner all night,” You finally said, your voice quiet in the hush of midnight.

Luke glanced over, eyes catching the glow from a streetlight, “You were holding your own pretty well.”

“Still, you didn’t have to hang out with me.”

“I wanted to.” There was no edge to his voice. No teasing. Just honesty. 

You glanced down at the sidewalk, counting cracks to keep your thoughts in order. You weren’t used to this version of Luke, the one who didn’t talk like he was trying to win a game. The one who laughed without smugness, who looked at you like he actually saw you and was doing things to your chest you didn’t want to think about.

At the corner of State Street, the world felt softer and quieter. A few golden leaves skittered past your shoes. You slowed your steps.

“You’ve been different lately,” You told Luke while keeping your eyes straight.

Luke exhaled, like he’d been expecting that, “Yeah. I know.”

“What changed?”

“You did,” He answered

That landed harder than you expected. You looked at him, and he was already looking at you. Something bloomed in your chest, small and uninvited. A warmth that had nothing to do with the drinks earlier or the brisk November air. It curled around your ribs in a way that made breathing harder.

“Well,” You said, mustering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “don’t get used to me being impressed by your emotional growth.”

Luke laughed quietly. “Noted.”

You reached the steps to your house with the yellow porch light flickering overhead. You paused, turning back toward him, “Thanks for walking me,” 

He shrugged, but there was something almost shy about the way he stood there, rocking slightly on his heels, “Anytime.”

The silence stretched again but it wasn’t awkward, just filled with something that wasn’t there before. Like something had shifted between you and hadn’t quite settled.

You gave him one last smile and turned toward the door, but as you slipped inside and leaned against the back of your front door, heart beating a little too fast, you realized something.

You were starting to feel something for Luke Hughes and it terrified you.

So you shoved it down and buried it deep beneath school and work and exhaustion and self-preservation, because caring about Luke meant giving him the power to hurt you again. You weren’t sure you could survive that twice.

Luke had watched you disappear behind that door, a quiet click sealing the space between you, but he didn’t move right away. Just stood there on the sidewalk, staring at the empty step like it might give him an answer. The walk back to his house felt longer than usual. The November air had dropped fast, cutting through his sweatshirt and nipped at his skin. He shoved his hands deeper into the front pocket, footsteps loud against the quiet streets. The city was asleep, but his mind? It was restless.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, all he knew was that something had shifted between the two of you.

He could still hear your laugh echoing in his memory from the party earlier, the way you leaned into him when Ethan disappeared, trusting him enough to stay by your side, and the way you were starting to let him in, piece by piece.

It scared the shit out of him.

By the time he made it home, his head was buzzing. Not with adrenaline, not with nerves before a game, but with you. With thoughts of how tired you looked tonight, how you still stayed until the end, how your smile lingered even when you tried to hide it behind sarcasm.

Luke plopped onto the mattress of his bed, stretching his legs out before relaxing. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

It was Jack, so he pressed the green button without thinking.

“Yo,” he mumbled, one hand on his forehead.

Jack’s voice crackled over the speaker, “How was the game?”

“Good. 4–1 win. Felt solid.”

“You looked sharp, I saw the clips.”

Luke let the compliment pass, the game already felt like a memory and the only thing still playing in his brain was you.

“You good?” Jack asked after a brief moment, “You sound off.”

Luke hesitated, “I walked her home.”

Another pause, “Her?” Jack repeated and Luke could practically hear the grin forming on his brother’s face, “Wait, like the girl you’ve been beefing with since freshman year?”

Luke ran a hand through his curls and sighed, “Yeah.”

“No way.”

“She’s not who I thought she was.”

Jack laughed, “You’re telling me the girl who’s been busting your balls for a year suddenly has your attention?”

“It’s not sudden,” Luke said a bit more quietly like he was afraid that one of his teammates would hear him through the thin walls, “She’s always been something. Smart. Sharp. But tonight I saw her actually relax. She’s amazing, Jack.”

“Damn,” Jack mumbled, “You’ve got it bad, dude.”

Luke didn’t argue as he leaned his head back on his headboard, eyes on the ceiling, “She stays late for the team. Does stuff no one even notices like Ethan was telling me, she makes everything run smoother and she never complains. Never asks for credit. She’s just there, holding everything together.”

Silence stretched for a moment too long which made Luke’s stomach twist since Jack was typically quick at saying something back.

“She sounds awesome,” Jack told him carefully, “But Luke...”

“I know.”

“You don’t know when the call’s coming.”

Luke shut his eyes. The call. The inevitable weight of it, like the clock he couldn’t see but always heard ticking in the back of his head.

“It’s gonna be soon, I can feel it. Like you could be in Jersey next week. You don’t want to get attached, man.”

Luke swallowed hard and his voice was dry, “Too late.”

There was a rustling on Jack’s end like he was pacing his apartment, “Just be careful, alright? I know you want something real, but you’re not in a normal situation. Don’t give her something you can’t promise, it’s not fair to her.”

Luke didn’t respond right away because he knew that Jack was right. And it hurt.

Because in the flickering light outside your door, Luke had seen something he hadn’t let himself want in a long time, you. The one person who didn’t expect him to be anything but himself and still somehow made him want to be better.

He didn’t know when the call would come, but for the first time, he kind of wished it wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Luke said eventually, “I’ll figure it out.”

Jack sighed, “Alright, I gotta crash but you’ll be okay.”

“Night, man.”

The call ended. Luke stared at the dark screen as you were still lingering in his thoughts. And now, you were in the one place he didn’t know how to guard anymore, which was his heart.

He should’ve kept his distance, but it was already too late.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You noticed the shift.

It started subtly like a slow retreat, soft and quiet and careful. Luke still showed up. He still flashed that crooked, boyish grin whenever your paths crossed in the hallway outside the team room. Still bumped your shoulder with his when he passed by and still called you “rookie” even though you were both well past that title.

But there was something different now.

His texts used to come quick — fast, teasing replies in the middle of the night or a random meme that made you laugh until your stomach hurt. Now they came late, hours after the conversation had moved on or sometimes they didn’t come at all.

He used to lean against the wall and talk to you until the equipment room emptied, until it was only the two of you in the entire arena. Now, he always seemed to be somewhere else. Skates half-laced. Phone in hand. Eyes drifting toward the exit like he had one foot already out the door.

“It’s just the Frozen Four,” Ethan said when you mentioned it offhandedly, “He gets like this before big games, like hyper-focused and shit.”

And maybe that was true, maybe Luke was just locked in and chasing the championship that had been dangling in front of them since the start of the season. Maybe it had nothing to do with you at all.

But still, something in your chest curled in on itself every time he passed you in the hallway without stopping. Every time you said hi and he said hey back but didn’t linger around you.

Tonight was worse.

You were alone in the equipment room, the dull lights making your eyes ache. The clock on the wall read 10:03 PM. The arena had long since emptied, the hum of the Zamboni now replaced with the occasional sounds coming from your typing. Everyone had gone home, except you.

Your laptop was open, with its battery almost dead. A spreadsheet full of media schedules glared back at you. You’d been finalizing graphics, sending press requests, and rewriting email drafts for the third time, your brain foggy with exhaustion. You couldn’t remember the last time you blinked.

A cold can of Diet Coke sweated on the desk beside you, untouched and you were so tired.

Not just physically, but in that deep, bone-heavy way that comes from caring too much and never knowing where you stood. You told yourself you didn’t care about Luke, about the distance and the confusion, but it was a lie you were starting to trip over.

You cared and you cared way too much. You blinked hard when your eyes started to sting. The door creaked open, and your head snapped up, heart skipping a beat.

Luke stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed, hair damp from his shower, his stick slung casually over his shoulder. His eyes found yours instantly.

“I didn’t think anyone was still here,” He said, voice lower than usual.

You swallowed, fingers dancing over your keyboard, “Just wrapping stuff up.”

He stepped inside as his footsteps echoed softly against the floor, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, “I lost track of time”

Luke glanced at your screen, “You’ve been working on that all night?”

 “Someone has to.”

There was a pause. Something shifted in the air, it barely a breeze but enough to unsettle the dust.

“You okay?” He asked carefully.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Are you seriously asking me that now?”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to you, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Your voice cracked, and you hated it. You stood abruptly, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape, “I mean don’t act like you care when you’ve barely said two words to me in days. Just say what you want to say and go.”

Luke looked stunned, like you’d slapped him.

“I-” He started, but you were already lowly shaking your head.

“I’m tired, Luke. I’m tired of trying to figure out what version of you I’m going to get every time I see you and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t notice you pulling away.”

His expression faltered, “I’m not- I’m just focused right now. With the tournament and the pressure and-”

You laughed again, but it came out shaky and broken, “No, it’s fine. I get it. You have hockey. You have everything. I’m just the girl behind the spreadsheet who makes your life easier and then vanishes when you don’t need her.”

“That’s not fair.”

You looked up, eyes glassy, “Isn’t it?”

And then, without warning, the tears came. You’d been holding them back for hours, maybe days, and now they blurred your vision and burned down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N” Luke said suddenly, voice cracking in the process. Luke didn’t try to explain himself again. He just stood there, frozen for a moment, then quietly set his stick against the wall and crossed the room. You felt his presence beside you before you saw him, and then gently,  he wrapped his arms around you.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat but then your body gave in, softening against his chest as your hands clutched the fabric of his hoodie. You didn’t sob. You didn’t collapse. You just stood there, trembling quietly while he held you.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, and it felt too late and not enough and somehow still everything.

After a while, you felt him shift.

“It’s late,” he said, still soft. “Let me walk you home.”

You hesitated, but then nodded.

He didn’t try to talk on the walk back, just kept his steps steady beside yours, hands tucked in his hoodie pocket, glancing at you every now and then like he was making sure you hadn’t changed your mind.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The locker room buzzed with pregame energy, the thuds of tape rolls hitting the floor, the music playing off of one of his teammate’s speakers, the echo of chirps bouncing off the walls. Familiar chaos.

But Luke barely heard any of it.

He sat at his locker stall, lacing his skates with more focus than usual, jaw tight, muscles already coiled from the morning. His hands moved methodically, over-under, tug, loop, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

More specifically, with you.

He’d seen the way your hair fell slightly into your face as you worked on your laptop the night before, the soft glow of your screen casting delicate shadows across your cheeks. You’d looked tired but determined. 

“You gonna stare a hole through the floor, Hughesy?”

Luke blinked, pulled from his spiral by Ethan’s voice. The guy was leaning casually against the stall next to his, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Luke looked up from his skates, “What?”

Mark plopped down on the other side, grinning, “You’re acting like you’re about to propose. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Luke mumbled.

Ethan gave a low whistle, “You know she’s here, right? Upstairs. Putting together final media edits before puck drop.”

Mark wiggled his eyebrows, “Ohh, is that why you’ve got that dreamy little look on your face?”

“I don’t have a look on my face,” Luke muttered, yanking a little harder on his skate laces than necessary.

“You totally do,” Ethan said, nudging him. “It's the ‘I’m trying not to smile because I might give myself away’ look. Classic move.”

Luke sighed, “You guys are insufferable.”

Mark leaned in closer to the curly headed hockey player, “We’re just saying it’s nice to see you two spending good quality time together in the arena”

“She deserves better than that,” Luke told them before he could stop himself.

Both Ethan and Mark exchanged a glance, a quick flicker of surprise and something else. Ethan’s expression softened, 

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said in weeks,” Ethan chuckled, “But for real, man. Don’t pull her into your storm unless you’re gonna be the one to give her calm too. She’s been through enough.”

Luke met his eyes and nodded, “I know, I’m trying.”

Mark clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Then try harder. 'Cause if you screw it up again, Ethan and I have already agreed to run you into the boards. During practice, accidentally.”

“‘Accidentally,’” Ethan repeated with a grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah alright.”

From the hallway beyond the locker room, he heard your laugh just faintly, carried on the air like a thread pulling him forward.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The energy in the arena was a living, breathing thing. It surged in waves, pulsed through the crowd like an electric current. You could feel it, even sitting in the media box, the blaring music, the chatter of excited fans, the scrape of skates on the ice, it all blurred into a constant roar.

But amid the noise, there was a moment of perfect, ringing clarity, it came when the puck dropped and everything snapped into place.

You glanced down at the ice, your fingers still tapping away at your laptop, but your attention fully absorbed by the game. The Michigan Wolverines were skating fast, tight, focused, the kind of play that made your heart race in time with every stride. You were typing out updates without really thinking, eyes flitting back and forth between the rink and your screen.

You didn’t expect it to happen so suddenly.

One swift pass. The sound of blades cutting ice, the swift snap of a stick, and the puck was heading toward the net with such force you could hear the wind whistling past it. The goalie was out of position, his eyes locked on a different angle, and you knew that this was it.

The puck hit the back of the net with a sharp, satisfying thunk. The crowd exploded into noise and then you saw him.

Luke.

You’d been watching him all game, but this was different. This was something else entirely. He was skating toward the corner, arms raised in victory, his mouth open in a shout of celebration. His face was flushed with exertion, his eyes gleaming with the kind of pride that could only come from the buildup of hard work and focus.

But then he looked at you and it wasn’t some offhand glance or a passing acknowledgment.

His gaze found yours from across the rink, as if the rest of the world had fallen away, as if there was only you and him in that entire moment. The noise, the celebration, the flashing cameras, it all faded into the background. His expression softened, just the slightest bit. His lips curled into that small, hesitant smile that made something warm unfurl inside your chest. It wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t arrogant. It was just… Luke.

The smile wasn’t for the crowd. It wasn’t even for the game.

It was for you and it melted something in you.

You couldn’t stop the smile that grew across your face, the one that started in your chest and spread through your limbs, the one that mirrored his without even thinking. For a second, it was just you and him, standing on the edge of something delicate and raw, something neither of you had been ready for until now.

The smile that passed between you both said more than a thousand words could. It was a silent agreement. An understanding. Something unspoken but clear.

And just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. Luke turned back to his teammates, joining the celebration, the roar of the crowd crashing back into your senses like a wave breaking against the shore. The noise was overwhelming again, fans chanting, clapping, the buzz of excitement reverberating in the rafters.

But you didn’t turn away.

Even as the game continued, and even as Luke disappeared into the cluster of his teammates, you could still feel that moment between you both lingering like the aftertaste of something sweet.

You had to look down at your hands to steady yourself, fingers trembling slightly as you typed out the next update, but your thoughts were far from the game. They were with him and with that smile.

It was a small thing. A fraction of a second, but it meant everything.

The game moved on, as games do. Goals were scored, hits were delivered, and the clock continued ticking toward the final buzzer. But no matter what happened, no matter how many times the puck crossed the line or how loud the crowd cheered, you couldn’t shake the weight of that smile.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. The players were already heading off the ice, their faces flushed with adrenaline and victory. But Luke didn’t leave with the rest of them. He stopped just at the edge of the tunnel, looking back over his shoulder, as if searching for something in the crowd.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew he was looking for you.

And, somehow, in that moment, you realized you were looking for him too.

The media room buzzed with its usual energy after the game. Reporters crowded in, shouting questions at the players, capturing every moment, every word that might matter. The players, flushed with victory, moved through the room with that familiar mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. They were still riding the high of the win, but the overwhelming noise of the media was enough to dull the edge of excitement.

You sat at your desk in the corner of the room, hunched over your laptop, fingers moving quickly as you typed out the post-game details. The rink lights were still shining into your vision, the feeling of the crowd’s roar still ringing in your ears, but here, in the quiet corner of the media room, the world felt distant. For a moment, you could breathe.

There was a shift in the air. The room was full of voices, but you could feel his presence through the noise. You looked up to find Luke standing at the edge of the room, still in his full gear, sweat glistening on his brow, his jersey clinging to his chest. His eyes scanned the room, but the moment they landed on you, they softened.

You didn’t expect him to approach you, not tonight at least. The high of the game, the energy that had been building between you both, was still there but you’d expected him to be swept up in the aftermath, caught up in the celebrations, like every other player.

But he wasn’t. He was here, standing still, like he was waiting for something.

Waiting for you.

He pushed through the crowd with a natural grace, his broad shoulders brushing past the reporters, his movements easy but purposeful. And then, he was standing in front of your desk, slightly out of breath, his eyes on yours in a way that made everything around you feel still.

“Hey,” He said, his voice soft but thick with emotion that wasn’t just adrenaline

“Hey,” You replied, blinking as you tore your eyes away from his, trying to focus on your laptop. Your fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, unsure of what to type, unsure of what to say but nothing came out.

There was a quiet beat. You could hear the buzz of conversations behind you, but in the space between the two of you, it felt like everything had gone silent.

Luke shifted slightly, his gaze flickering between you and the chaos of the room. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he seemed to hesitate.

"Great game," You told him as you broke the silence. It was all you could manage. It felt awkward, out of place, but it was all you had at the moment.

Luke gave a tight smile, but his eyes betrayed something more. There was a weight behind them, something deeper than just the game, "Yeah," he replied, his voice quieter now, "It felt good. But  I’ve got to admit, it felt better when I saw you smiling."

Your heart stuttered at the words. You glanced up at him, trying to gauge whether he was teasing you again, but there was no hint of sarcasm, no playful edge. Just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

"You saw that?" You asked, almost breathless.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, "I’ve been seeing a lot of things lately."

The air between you shifted again, something unspoken passing between you like an electric pulse. The words you couldn’t say, the things you’d been dancing around for weeks, felt almost too close now. It was as if the game had peeled away a layer, making it impossible to ignore anymore.

Before you could say anything else, one of the reporters called out to Luke, breaking the tension in the room. Luke turned briefly, acknowledging the noise before glancing back at you.

"I’ll let you get back to work," He said, "But I just wanted to say thanks. For being here. For everything."

You opened your mouth, not sure what to say. You weren’t sure if you should say anything at all. But before you could form the words, he was already moving toward the door. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned back. His expression was a little more serious now, a little more vulnerable than you had ever seen him.

"Hey," he called softly, and you looked up, meeting his gaze again, "I meant it, about the smile."

You nodded, something tightening in your chest as his words lingered between you.

"I’ll see you after," He added with a small smirk on his features, before disappearing into the hallway, leaving the chaos of the media room behind.

You sat there for a moment, the hum of voices, the clatter of equipment, and the soft scrape of shoes on the floor all feeling distant. You stared at your screen, but your mind was elsewhere with Luke, with that smile, with the unspoken words that hung between you.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The excitement of the quarterfinal win was still lingering in the air, thick with the scent of victory and the hum of celebration. The locker room was filled with shouts, high-fives, and the victorious clinking of water bottles against one another, but you weren’t really paying attention to the noise. You were standing to the side with your camera bag slung over your shoulder, trying to make sense of the blur of emotions from the game.

You were drained, but in a good way. The tension, the stress of the past few weeks, had all melted away after the final buzzer. And it wasn’t just the win itself. It was the way everyone had worked together, the effort, the adrenaline.

But what kept you there, sitting on the bench, wasn’t the excitement of the team. It was Luke.

He’d scored that crucial goal in the third period, the one that solidified the lead and kept the game in their favour. You could still hear the roar of the crowd when it happened, the way his eyes immediately sought out the stands with his eyes looking for you. 

The locker room was starting to clear out now, with the guys starting to head to the showers and preparing for the post-game celebration. You reached over to grab your things, your hands still a little shaky from the excitement.

Just as you turned to leave the room, you felt a presence behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Luke standing there, his damp curls falling over his forehead, a slight crooked smile on his lips. His jersey was soaked with sweat, but he still looked so effortlessly cool, like the victory was just a part of his routine.

"Hey," He greeted you softly, "You’re not leaving already, are you?"

You shrugged, the familiar comfort of his voice making your heart flutter a little, "I’ve got some stuff to finish up with the media team. You know how it is. But it looks like you guys are having your moment."

Luke chuckled, rubbing his jaw with his hand, "Yeah, it’s chaotic in there but you’re not the type to get caught up in that, are you?"

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at how he seemed to understand you so well, "Not really. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person."

Luke nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you, "Well, I noticed that today with how you were right there the whole game, capturing everything, even when I didn’t expect it. It’s like you’re always one step ahead of the rest of us."

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was teasing or being sincere, "Really? You’re not just saying that because you scored?"

He shook his head, the smile on his lips deepening, "No, I mean it. You capture the moments that people miss. And I’ve seen it in the locker room too, how you’re always making sure everything’s running smoothly. You don’t get enough credit for it."

You felt your cheeks warm as they flushed a light shade of pink, the genuine praise catching you off guard, "Thanks, Luke, that means a lot."

He took a step closer, and for a moment, the buzz of the locker room seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and him, standing there in the quiet after the storm of the game. Luke ran a hand through his curls, his smile turning sheepish for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to act in the softer moment between you two.

"You know," He said slowly, "I’ve been thinking about how we don’t get many moments like this. All the chaos, the games, the practices, and it’s easy to get caught up in it. But after today, I realized I don’t want to just be another face on the team. I want to be someone you can count on. Someone who’s there for you."

"You are someone I can count on," You told him, "You’ve been there for me a lot recently."

"I know I was a pain in the ass," Luke added, "I didn’t make things easy between us."

There was a long silence before Luke looked back over at you, his blue eyes steady, “I don’t know what it is, but you’re real with me. I don’t have to pretend and I don’t want to mess that up."

A small smile tugged at your lips, "You don’t have to try so hard. Just be you."

Luke grinned, stepping a little closer to you. He was inches away now, the air between you charged with something soft, something both of you had been trying to ignore for far too long.

"That’s what I’m trying to do," he said, his voice quiet.

The moment hung there, delicate and fragile. Then, without warning, Luke reached out, offering you a fist bump, his playful side creeping back into his voice.

"To the win," He said as his grin returned.

You laughed, the tension finally breaking. You bumped his fist with yours, the laughter easy and comforting between you.

 "To the win," You repeated.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The Frozen Four semifinal game was underway, and the intensity of it all gripped the arena like a vice. The Michigan Wolverines were up against a fierce opponent, both teams hungry for victory, and the air was thick with anticipation. Fans in maize and blue filled the stands, chanting, cheering, and holding their breath with every second of play.

You were seated near the glass, the smell of fresh ice and the sound of skates cutting across the rink blending with the loud noise from the crowd. As much as you tried to focus on the game, your attention kept shifting to the players, Luke in particular. You could see the tension in his movements, the fire in his eyes. It was clear that he was giving everything he had, but you could also see the toll it was taking on him. The pressure of this game weighed heavily on his shoulders.

The game moved fast. There were hits, fast breaks, and thrilling shots on goal. Luke was everywhere dodging his opponents, pushing the puck up the ice with precision. You could hear the heavy breathing from the players as the game wore on, every moment stretched thin by the stakes.

The tension was unbearable as the final minutes of the third period ticked down. The score was tied 3-3. The whole arena was on edge, holding their breath with every shift. Fans jumped to their feet as Michigan pushed for one last offensive drive, hoping for a miracle to break the tie. And then, as if the game had a mind of its own, disaster struck.

A last-ditch effort by the opposing team ended with a quick goal and then Michigan was trailing 4-3, with only seconds left on the clock. The crowd gasped, disbelief washing over them. You could feel the collective sinking of hearts, the weight of reality crashing down.

Luke didn’t even flinch. His eyes were locked on the ice, his jaw clenched but you could see it, he was devastated. The final buzzer rang, and the arena exploded into an unsettling mix of cheers and groans. Michigan had lost in the semifinals of the Frozen Four, and the weight of that finality was immediate. The stands slowly emptied out, the cheers of the opposing fans echoing louder as the Wolverines stood there, crushed, trying to comprehend the game that had just slipped away from them.

You stayed in your seat for a moment, letting the sound of the crowd wash over you, trying to hold onto something familiar. There was no denying the sting. You felt the loss in the pit of your stomach, but your thoughts quickly turned to Luke. You’d seen how much he had poured into this game with his effort, the focus, the pride in every play, and you knew this loss was hitting him harder than anyone else.

As the players began to file into the locker room, you stood up slowly from where you were seated. Ethan was already looking at you, his brow furrowed in concern. He was trying to hold it together, but his frustration was evident. You could see him glancing toward the locker room, his eyes darting to Luke, who had already disappeared inside.

“Let’s go talk to him,” Ethan said, "He’ll need someone."

You nodded, but as you walked together, you could feel Ethan’s unease. He was trying to be brave for both of you, but you knew he was hurting, too. You could see the subtle tension in his posture as he approached the locker room and when the door swung open, the cold, sterile air of the space hit you — the smell of sweat and ice mingling with the stench of defeat.

You saw Luke right away, slumped in his locker stall, his face twisted in a mix of anger and disbelief. His usual relaxed self was gone but replaced by something else, something you didn’t recognize. He didn’t even acknowledge you at first, his attention fixed on the floor. The space around him was tense, and even Ethan seemed unsure of how to approach him.

You stood there for a moment, unsure whether to speak or not. The silence was thick, suffocating, but Ethan broke it with a heavy sigh.

"Hey, man," he started, his voice trying to stay calm, "We’ll get ‘em next year. It’s not the end of the world."

Luke didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the shift in the air with the heaviness in the way Luke pulled away from the words. His jaw clenched, and when he finally spoke, his voice was strained, biting.

“Yeah, whatever,” Luke mumbled, not looking up from the floor, "Next year, great. I just don't know why I bother anymore."

You felt the sting of his words even though they weren’t directed at you. His frustration wasn’t aimed at Ethan, not at first, but there was an obvious sense of anger in his tone, like he was trying to push everyone away. Ethan glanced at you, his eyes softening, but he knew better than to push further. Instead, he turned to you, his gaze asking for a sign.

You walked over to Luke, your steps slower, more cautious than usual. The air between you two was tense, but you had been through too much together to leave him alone now. You tried to meet his gaze, but Luke wouldn’t look up.

“You did your best,” You told him quietly with your tone full of the comfort you wanted to give him, even if he didn’t want it right now, “You all did.”

He scoffed, his shoulders tensing as he finally looked up at you. His eyes, usually so full of fire, were dull now, clouded with frustration. He shook his head, the words coming out rough, “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to put everything into something, only for it to slip away at the last second," His voice cracked slightly before he quickly masked it with more bitterness.

You could feel his pain, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. It wasn’t just the loss; it was everything else he was dealing with like the expectations, the pressure, the constant feeling like he had to prove something to everyone. But you didn’t back down, instead you nodded and tried again to comfort him

“Maybe not,” You hummed, “but I know what it’s like to have everything riding on something, to try your hardest and still feel like it’s never enough, but you can’t keep beating yourself up. This isn’t all on you.”

He looked at you, his eyes flickering between anger and something softer, something that made your heart ache. But before he could respond, Ethan stepped forward, his voice much lighter.

“Come on, Hughesy,” Ethan’s hand clapped onto Luke’s shoulder, “We still have next year, right? We’ll get ‘em then”

Luke didn’t even smile, he didn’t meet Ethan’s eye. His gaze was stuck somewhere far off, locked on nothing in particular. The air was thick with the weight of his frustration, but he wasn’t ready to let anyone in.

You gave Luke one last look before turning to Ethan, “I’ll be outside, okay?” You told him as you kept your voice gentle. 

Ethan nodded and gave you a look that said it all, he was worried about you too. He was always protective, but this time, he was just as vulnerable as you were. As you walked out of the locker room, the sound of Luke’s heavy silence lingered in your ears. It seemed as though Ethan opted to follow you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder in a comforting gesture. He squeezed you once, then sighed deeply.

“He’s taking it harder than I thought,” Ethan murmured, almost to himself.

You nodded, “I know, but I think he just needs some space. He’s not used to this feeling.”

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed quietly, “But just be careful, okay? I know you two have been getting closer, but he’s got a lot going on right now. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You stopped walking, glancing up at Ethan, "I won't get hurt. I just want to be there for him, you know?" You gave a soft sigh as you rubbed your eyes, "But I’ll be careful."

"Alright, I trust you. Just don’t let him shut you out completely, okay?"

You nodded and headed toward the exit, the cool night air outside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the locker room. Despite the sting of Michigan’s loss, you couldn’t help but feel like this moment, this shift between you and Luke, was something significant.

The rest of the night would unfold in its own way, but for now, you knew you’d be there for him. Even if he wasn’t quite ready to let you in yet.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You were hunched over your laptop, the glow of your laptop screen casting a soft light against your tired face. These late hours were taking their toll on you with your eyes burning from exhaustion, shoulders stiff from too many long nights spent in front of the screen. But you were almost done, and there was one more media release to finish before you could head home for the night.

The door to the media room creaked open, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was Luke. But tonight, the usual warmth in his approach had been replaced by a quiet and cold, almost detached energy. He didn’t say anything at first, but the silence that hung between you two was deafening.

Ethan was keeping you company but was currently grabbing both of you something to eat from a cafeteria in a residence building, and you thought that maybe you could escape the awkwardness that had been lingering between you and Luke for the past few days. You finally looked up from your work, meeting his eyes. You didn’t know what to expect anymore and you were growing tired of this push and pull relationship that you and Luke had going on for the past month or so.

“What?” You asked him

Luke’s lips curled into a smirk, “You still here, huh? Thought you had better things to do than sticking around this place.”

You frowned, feeling the sting of his words, “I have work to do, Luke, you know that I’m not here for fun.”

He scoffed, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, sure. Work. Like we need your media expertise around here. You could be doing something more... important, don’t you think?”

The words cut through you like a blade. You knew Luke had his moments of teasing and joking around to keep things lighthearted. But this wasn’t his playful teasing, it felt like he was deliberately trying to hurt you.

“Excuse me?” You shot back, “I’ve been working with your team for months now, Luke. I’m doing my job.”

“Yeah, your job,” He repeated putting air quotes around the word like it was a joke, “I didn’t realize media work was so important when you’ve got a bunch of guys on the ice doing all the hard stuff. But hey, what do I know?”

You clenched your jaw, trying not to let his words affect you, but the weight of them was unbearable. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, Ethan walked back into the room with two white take out containers in his hands and a look of confusion crossing his face as he took in the tension between you two.

“What’s going on in here?” Ethan asked, eyeing Luke, who had now turned his back to you, clearly ignoring the situation.

Luke shrugged, still keeping his distance, “Nothing, just telling her the truth of her position. Media work’s not as important as she thinks.”

Ethan’s gaze flickered between you and Luke, his brow furrowing, “If you’re going to talk out of your ass like that, at least turn around so I can hear you better,” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed, “What’s your problem, Edwards?”

“My problem?” Ethan stepped forward, his voice becoming more firm, “My problem is you being a jackass when she’s just trying to do her job, and you being an even bigger one when you’re talking down to her like that. I’ve had enough of your shit, Hughes.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. You hadn’t expected Ethan to step in, but part of you was grateful. It didn’t make the sting of Luke’s words disappear, but at least someone was standing up for you. Luke shifted uncomfortably but didn’t back down, “She doesn’t need you to protect her, man.”

“I’m not protecting her. I’m telling you to stop being a dick,” Ethan snapped.

But Luke didn’t seem to care. He just scoffed again as he said something just under his breath, and walked out of the room without looking back. You stood there, staring at the door long after he had left, the coldness in the room making it hard to breathe.

Ethan stood beside you, his expression softening, “You okay?”

You nodded, though it wasn’t entirely true, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t let him get to you. You don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” You mumbled, but the weight of Luke’s words still hung in the air, “I just don’t understand what’s going on with him and I’m so sick of this back and forth we’ve been having. Like we’re fine for one week but the next he hates me again”

Ethan let out a long and tired sigh as he placed the food onto the table for both of you, “I don’t know either, but you don’t have to take it. You’re doing an amazing job here, don’t let him make you question that.”

You smiled weakly at him, appreciating his kindness, “Thanks, Eddy”

He gave you a quick embrace before motioning towards the food, he reopened his laptop to continue the movie he was watching as he ate. You sat back down at your desk, trying to focus on the work in front of you, but all you could think about was Luke. His coldness. His sharp words. It hurt more than you cared to admit.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The phone buzzed in Luke’s pocket, and for a moment, he thought about ignoring it. He had just finished a grueling practice, the kind that left his legs burning and his head buzzing with exhaustion. But something in the pit of his stomach told him this call was different. Something was going to change. He pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen, the name Tom Fitzgerald flashing in bold letters. He was the general manager for the Devils, meaning this call could be the opportunity Luke had been waiting for, but never truly expected to happen.

“Hey, Tom,” Luke answered, his voice tight as he tried to control the sudden surge of adrenaline in his veins.

“Luke, listen. We’ve been watching you closely, and we think it’s time. We want you to play next Wednesday”

The words hit Luke like a freight train. His pulse quickened, and he had to grip onto the nearest bench to steady himself, “Wait… what?” He asked as the disbelief made his voice crack.

“We’re calling you up, Hughes. You’re going to join the team. It’s official. You leave in two days, I’ll have Jack send you your flight tickets. We’re excited to see you, kid”

Luke’s mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always known this day would come and he had always dreamt of it. But now that it was here, it felt like his world had just shifted beneath his feet. The weight of the moment hit him like a ton of bricks, and for a second, everything else faded into the background. He had worked for this. Had put in the hours, the sweat, the pain. Every early morning and late night, every sacrifice. It had led him to this moment. The New Jersey Devils. The NHL.

But then his thoughts drifted as they always did these days to you.

The sudden warmth he felt for you was buried beneath layers of confusion. He had been shutting you out, pushing you away, and now here he was, about to leave without even telling you. The thought made him feel selfish. Maybe it wasn’t just about the career move or maybe it was more than that.

“Alright, thanks, Tom,” Luke breathed out, his mind whirling with thoughts he wasn’t ready to confront, “I’ll get the details from you and I’ll tell my coach and team here”

The conversation ended, and Luke stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, the weight of his decision sinking in. This was it. His future was set. But it was a future he’d be leaving behind everything and everyone for, including you.

Later that day, Luke stood in front of his teammates, the weight of the moment settling heavier with every passing second. His coach was there, standing at the front of the locker room, a rare expression of solemnity on his face. The team had just finished another intense training session, but now, the room was full of hushed murmurs. Everyone could sense something big was about to happen.

Luke stood tall, feeling the eyes of every single player on him, their curiosity evident in their faces. They all knew something was off, they knew he’d been distant lately, snapping at them for reasons they couldn’t quite figure out. But this was something different.

“Alright, guys,” Luke began, his voice steady, but a slight tremor betrayed the emotions brewing inside of him, “I’ve got some news, big news.”

The room went still.

“I’ve been called up,” He continued, letting the words hang in the air as a small smile crept onto his face, “I’m heading to New Jersey to play for the Devils the day after tomorrow.”

A collective gasp echoed through the room. The weight of the announcement hit the team like a wave. There were slaps on his back, congratulations, but Luke felt strangely detached from it all. 

Mark grinned as he slapped him on the shoulder. “Look at you, man. Going pro. Gonna leave us in the dust.”

Luke forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, the excitement of the moment felt distant.

Ethan, always the emotional one, stepped forward with a grin for his friend, “That’s awesome, Hughes. You’ve earned it, I’m really proud of you.”

Luke nodded absently, trying to hide the storm swirling inside of him. He had expected this moment and had rehearsed it in his mind a hundred times. But none of those scenarios had prepared him for how empty it would feel.

“Thanks, man,” Luke nodded.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You sat in the seat in front of your desk, staring down at the scattered papers in front of you, but not really seeing them. You were supposed to be working, supposed to be focusing on the media notes for the team, but every time you tried to concentrate, your mind would inevitably drift back to Luke. His sudden departure felt like a punch in the stomach.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was gone, but rather it was the way he left. No goodbyes, no explanations. You had barely heard from him since the day he told everyone he was leaving for New Jersey and even then, it was brief. The Luke you had once known as the one who could light up a room with his sarcastic humor or annoy the hell out of you with his attitude felt like a memory now.

The door creaked, and Ethan stepped in, his presence immediately filling the empty space in the room. His smile was soft, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the concern in his gaze as he took a seat next to you.

“Hey,” Ethan told you gently, nudging your shoulder, “You doing okay?”

You nodded, but the tightness in your chest told a different story, “I’m fine.”

Ethan didn’t believe you for a second, and you knew it. He had been there for you through it, with the games, the late nights, the times you had gotten frustrated with Luke and even the moments you had found yourself falling for him. But now, after Luke was gone, things felt different. It was like the silence was suffocating you both.

Ethan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, his eyes still fixed on you, “You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay to not be okay.”

You glanced at him, forcing a small smile, “I know. It’s just… it feels like everything’s changed.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Ethan said as he sat back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “It’s not easy. For any of us. I mean, I know you two had your… issues, but he’s gone now and that’s gotta hurt.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the mention of Luke. You had thought that with time, you’d be able to move on, to get over the emotional rollercoaster that had been your relationship with him. But instead, his absence felt like a gaping hole in the team, in your life, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, “It’s like he was never really there, but I still feel this emptiness now that he’s gone.”

Ethan’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, “It’s because he mattered. Even when he was a jerk, you cared about him and that doesn’t just go away overnight. Hell, it doesn’t go away at all. But I’m here for you, okay? I always will be. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You took a shaky breath as you nodded, “I just don’t understand him, Ethan. One minute he’s pulling me in, and the next he’s pushing me away. I thought we were getting somewhere, but then…” You trailed off, your voice cracking slightly, “And now he’s gone, and I feel like I’ve lost something I didn’t even know I needed.”

Ethan’s eyes flickered with something that resembled a mixture of sympathy and concern. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm, but not overbearing.

“You didn’t lose anything,” Ethan said softly, “You gained something. You gained a lesson. You learned how to not let someone else’s bullshit affect you. You learned that you’re strong enough to survive even when things don’t go the way you want them to.”

You met his gaze, the intensity in his eyes giving you a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed, “But I still care and I don’t know how to stop.”

Ethan’s smile was small but genuine, “It’s not about stopping. It’s about moving forward, one step at a time. You’ll get there, I promise.”

You let out a breath, leaning back against the bench and closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of everything start to lift, “Thanks, Ethan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ethan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sat leaned against the wall next to you, the two of you staring at the rink in silence, the occasional sound of skates scraping against the ice breaking the stillness. It was comforting, in a way. There was no need for words, just the presence of someone who understood.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

Life with the New Jersey Devils was everything Luke had dreamed of. The adrenaline of skating out onto the ice, the roar of the crowd, the pressure of each game, it was the stuff he had worked for since he was a kid, and now it was his reality. His brother, Jack, was right beside him, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

The mornings were filled with drills and team strategy, followed by afternoons spent lifting weights and studying film. It was a routine that Luke had grown to love, each day a reminder of how far he’d come. Playing with Jack was something he had always fantasized about, and now that it was happening, he found himself enjoying every moment. There was an unspoken understanding between them, like a shorthand that allowed them to communicate without words, a bond that made everything on the ice feel effortless.

But for all the things he loved about this life, there were moments when the noise of it all quieted down, and the emptiness of his decisions crept in.

It was late one evening after a team dinner when he found himself alone in the locker room, sitting on a bench, his skates still on as he stared at his reflection in the locker room mirror. The hum of the arena was faint in the background, and the sound of his teammates talking and laughing in the distance seemed so far away. He felt restless, like there was something missing.

The chaos of the NHL, the intensity of the games, the pressure, it was all exhilarating but something inside him was unsettled. He ran his hand over his face, eyes drifting to the messages on his phone, his thumb hovering over a number that used to feel like second nature.

Your number.

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind. Getting drafted, making the roster, joining the team, all of it had happened so fast. He hadn’t allowed himself the time to slow down and think about anything beyond hockey. The reality of playing professionally, of having this spotlight on him, had consumed him. But in these quiet moments, the weight of his own decisions was heavier than ever.

He had been cold. He had pushed you away when you needed someone, when you had been there for him more than anyone else had. He had told himself it was for your own good, that you deserved someone who could give you more than he could, but deep down, he knew the truth. It wasn’t about that. It was about him. He had been afraid. Afraid of letting someone get too close. Afraid of needing someone who wasn’t a part of his world, afraid of the vulnerability it brought.

And now, here he was. The NHL was everything he had wanted and everything he had worked for, but a part of him missed you. He missed how easy it had been to talk to you, to laugh with you, and to be around someone who saw him for more than just the player. He missed the way you would text him about the little things, like how your day went, how classes were going, how you were looking forward to the next time they’d hang out in the media room.

He missed your laugh and the way you made him feel like he was seen, like he wasn’t just the hockey player everyone expected him to be.

It was strange, this feeling. He had never been one to question his decisions. He had always been focused on what was in front of him, never looking back. But now, as he sat in the locker room, it was hard to ignore the tug of regret.

Jack’s voice broke through his thoughts as he walked in, tossing his bag into his locker, “You good, man?”

Luke looked up, forcing a smile, “Yeah, just tired. Long day.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, he knew his little brother better than anyone, “You sure? I mean, you’ve been a little off lately. You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Luke leaned back against the locker, his eyes flicking back to his phone for a moment before he put it down, “I don’t know, dude. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Jack asked with more curiosity evident in his tone, “You’ve been killing it out there, Luke. First season and you’re already making an impact. I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but you’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Luke let out a sigh, running a hand through his curls, “I know I do, it’s just… I don’t know, Jack. There’s this feeling I can’t shake, like something’s missing.”

Jack tilted his head, “Missing? What are you talking about?”

Luke hesitated, his thoughts drifting back to you, “I don’t know, man. I thought I had it all figured out. I pushed some things aside...people aside, actually. But sometimes, it feels like I might have made a mistake.”

Jack’s face softened, understanding the weight of his brother’s words, “You’re talking about her, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, Luke,” Jack said, his tone gentle but firm, “You’ve been acting off ever since you got here. You’ve been so focused on the game, I get it. But you don’t have to shut out everyone else, especially not her. You made a decision, I know, but you also know that sometimes the hardest thing to do is admit when you’re wrong.”

Luke’s jaw clenched, “I didn’t want to drag her into this. I didn’t want to risk messing things up because of my career. She deserved better than me, especially with what I’ve got going on right now.”

Jack shook his head, “I get that you’re trying to protect her, but Luke, sometimes you can’t protect people from how you feel. You’ve got to decide, do you want to keep running from this, or are you going to do something about it?”

Luke didn’t answer right away. He stared at the floor, contemplating his brother’s words. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken thoughts and feelings.

“Maybe you’re right,” Luke finally said, his voice hushed, “I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stop thinking about her, Jack. I think I might have messed things up too much.”

Jack gave him a knowing look, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder, “It’s never too late to make things right, Luke. But you’ve got to decide if you want to fix it or if you’re going to let it go.”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The late night breeze brushed against you when you stepped outside the arena that night, the air causing your hair to blow around your head. The sky was dark, and the world around you was quiet and you were tired of pretending you were fine, tired of trying to move on from something that had never really ended.

You weren’t expecting anyone to be waiting outside of Yost, but there he was.

Luke stood just outside the parking lot, hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers, his head down like he didn’t quite know if he had the right to be there. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Your heart slammed against your chest,

“What are you doing here?” You asked with your voice barely audible

He stepped forward slowly, “I needed to see you.”

You swallowed hard, “You left.”

“I know,” His voice was thick, his eyes filled with desperation, “And I regret it every single day. I thought I was doing the right thing by choosing the career, staying focused, keeping you from the mess I was becoming, but all I did was hurt you and God, I hate that I did that.”

You stood still, breath caught, as he spoke like you couldn’t quite tell if you reached the level of exhaustion where you started hallucinating.

“I’ve had everything I ever dreamed of handed to me in Jersey but none of it feels right.,” He sighed as his eyes locked on yours, “Because I don’t get to share it with you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like more than just the youngest Hughes brother. You saw me. You made me feel grounded and real, like I had a place to land after all the chaos and I tried so hard to forget that and to move on, but I can’t.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Baby, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

A tremor rippled through you as your heart skipped a few beats and your cheeks reddened.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember when it started. I was scared. I thought if I let you in, I’d lose focus, I’d mess it all up, but losing you… that’s the only thing I got wrong and I can’t stand not having you in my life.” Luke confessed with his voice dropping a bit as his throat tightened

Your voice was shaky, “You broke my heart.”

“I know. And I swear to you, if you give me even the smallest chance, I will spend every day proving that I’m worth trying again for.”

You were crying now, but it didn’t feel like the pain you’d carried for the past weeks, it felt like release, like everything you’d bottled up was finally being let out. You stepped toward him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, “You’re such an idiot.”

He let out a broken laugh, chest shaking, “Yeah. I am.”

And then you kissed him.

Not gently. Not cautiously. It was a collision of longing, of anger, of all the unsaid things finally being spoken in the way you knew best. His hands cupped your cheeks, your fingers twisted in the collar of his sweatshirt, and the breeze swirled around you as if the universe was finally giving its blessing.

When the kiss broke, your foreheads rested against each other, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you too,” You whispered.

His lips curled into a smile, soft and a little stunned, “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

[bbyg4rl]

daddy huh? 𓂃⋆.˚

cw: bsf!JJ x bsf!reader, fluff, slight allusion to sex, shy!jj, happy ending !

summary: your bestfriend calls himself your dog's "daddy", thats new..

a/n: inspired by this request ! shy!jj has my HEART.

You were planted on the seat of your vanity in only your robe, rollers in your hair, putting on mascara when you jolted out of your seat when the doorbell rang. "Shit" you mumbled to yourself as you saw the time. you were so late. JJ was already here to pick you up.

You quickly made your way out of your bedroom to open the door. JJ's face instantly lit up as he saw you on the other side of the door, quickly losing himself in your eyes.

"Hey y/n" he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. You found it adorable how nervous he was around you, He was so bad at hiding his feelings for you.

"Hey. Sorry, I'm not ready yet. Can you wait inside for me?"

He snaps out of his trance, realizing he’s been staring at your eyes as your words finally register. He slowly takes in the way you were standing in front of him. Swallowing hard as he looks at your disheveled robe that almost revealed your tits to him. You quickly cover yourself up as you notice his gaze travelling lower. You lightly hit his shoulder to snap him out of it.

"What? Oh—yeah, I'll wait." He chuckled awkwardly, mentally scolding himself for getting caught staring. He followed you as you led him to the living room.

"Stay here, alright? I'll get Luna so you guys can hang out," you say as you head into your room. He smiled to himself, already expecting your dog, Luna, to jump on him the moment she's let out. And that's exactly what happens—Luna bolts out of your room and leaps onto JJ's lap. "Have fun, you two," you say with a chuckle before heading back to finish getting ready.

You could faintly hear JJ talking to your dog as you give yourself some finishing touches as you walked out of your room. He was calling you the dog's "mama," like he usually did, but you froze in your tracks when you suddenly heard JJ refer to himself as her "daddy." 'Thats new', you thought to yourself as a blush quickly made its way onto your cheeks.

"Daddy huh?" You say out loud, now standing behind him. You saw his back get tense as he stood up turning around to face you.

"I was just—uh, you know, playing around—yeah… um—wow, you look beautiful. Wow." He backed up to look at you in all your glory, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Thankyou JJ. You're so sweet" you said to him as more redness crept up your cheeks.

You wave goodbye to your dog as you take JJ's hand and lead him out to his bike. He hands you his helmet before getting on his bike, his concern for your safety clearly outweighing his own. He gestures for you to sit behind him so you steady yourself on his shoulders before climbing onto the bike. You could feel how warm he was, the nervousness radiating off of him as heat when you were so close to him. every bump on the road meant your chest pressing hard into his back, you never noticed how many potholes there were on the road until now. Or maybe JJ was purposely steering toward the potholes. The tension on the bike was thick enough to cut with a knife. To break the silence, you decide to start a conversation.

"So, daddy?"

JJ's breath hitched as the words left your lips, his throat suddenly dry. He had to steady himself quickly to make sure neither of you fell off the bike.

"Wha- What?" he stuttered, clearly caught off guard.

"You called yourself Luna's daddy."

"Oh—oh that… yeah, what about it?" he replied, pretending he didn’t understand where this was going.

"You call me her mama."

"Yeah—yeah, I know… I was just, uh, calling myself her daddy in, like, a… joke way, you know?"

"Yeah—right," you said, chuckling. You didn’t buy a word of it.

"What no actually I didn't um mean anything by that you know I just like your dog y/n" he scrambled to explain himself.

"You're usually such a good liar, what's going on now?" You didn’t give him a chance to reply, continuing with a teasing tone. "Do I make you nervous, JJ?"

"Y-Yeah… uh I guess, a little," he stammered, his throat growing even drier, if that was even possible.

"A little? Or a lot?" you asked, moving your hands from his shoulders to wrap around his waist.

"A lot" he breathes out eyes threatening to close as his pants grew tighter. You stayed like that for the rest of the ride, a smile on both of your lips.

He sighed as soon as you got off his bike, his heartbeat finally slowing down. You both searched for the rest of the group and joined them in the middle of the party. You and Kie instantly fell into conversation, sticking together for the rest of the party. JJ’s eyes didnt leave yours the entire time you were there and before you knew it, it was time to leave. You were tipsy, stumbling as JJ held you, he was surprisingly sober. His tolerance was always higher than yours, after all.

The ride home was filled with jokes and laughter. When you finally reached home, you turned to him with a tipsy grin. "Do you like me, JJ?"

"What? Of course I do, you're my best friend."

"No, like do you like like me?" you emphasized, trying to make him understand you meant more than friendship.

He let out a tense breath before replying, "Baby, I'm like obsessed with you." He sounded surprisingly less nervous than usual—probably the alcohol boosting his confidence.

"Do you wanna come in?" you asked, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. You'd finally made him admit his feelings for you.

He nodded, following you inside. "Hey Luna, daddy’s here," you said to your dog, and JJ blushed behind you.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[evilvillain123456789]

Repo men took everything from me. I worked at my job for over 4 years and when I went to request PTO for my yearly vacation the system said I have zero recorded work hours at all, and that I'm not even clocked in. Boss said "just go for it then" and slammed the door behind me and when I turned around I couldn't see him through the window even though he was right there to usher me out. No car. Tried getting my wife and kids in an Uber but they all kept pulling up at half a mile per hour sparking and squealing loudly on 4 bare rims and the combined weight of my family cemented the car in place and then we really couldn't go anywhere. Drivers never charged me. I paid in other ways. Had to go and walk ourselves on down to Six Flags Fiesta Texas barefoot, wearing burlap sacks in the summer heat, and when we arrived the entire theme park was nothing but a barren flat of concrete with a bunch of rebar sticking out, loose bolts everywhere, and starkly pale areas of cement where its obvious roller coasters and buildings used to be that blocked it from the accumulated grime of foot traffic and soot and smoke from the nearby highway, which by the way, was completely populated by tow trucks.

[servicpop]

electric fueled adefemi akinola ( cyberpunk oc ) x racer ! bttm ftm reader

ⓘ a bit more dialogue heavy than I'd want it to be, implied you've been hooking up, unprofessional doctor / medical play(?) , he uses his vibrating fingers , use of pussy and cunt like once or twice

The city of dreams they called it. Nothing short of a dream when you're seeing holograms reach out to you, and people on the streets with metal and wires embedded into their skin. Adefemi was no stranger to it, having one fully cyberware arm himself.

Day and night he ran this little shop, favored by racers who badly beat up their rides on those hellish courses—only the best of the best could make it through without missing at least a bolt or more. People drove their vehicles in and out, scratched and dented for him to fix with a price.

Though, he had one recurring customer he'd always slip in a discount, for whatever reason he could find.

“'Nother crash?” Adefemi chuckled as he saw you duck under the roller, and push your bike towards him.

You'd come almost everytime he was about to switch that open sign closed, everytime the sun lowered it's harsh rays past the horizon and just barely seeping through the cracks of those high rise buildings. Nonetheless, Adefemi had his shop on the outskirts of the city, so there was nothing but desert and maybe a few gas stations out front. It was far enough that the sun could come through without the disturbance of the buildings.

“Yeah,” he hears you sigh, walking out from behind his workbench as he takes a good look at the state of your bike. All battered and bruised like you'd deliberately swung a bat at it just for an excuse to see him again—or so he'd hope you did.

He ran one metallic finger over the flat surface of your bike, running over the jagged edges of metal from concrete slashes. It seemed like you really had a tough time this race.

“I could probably fix her up in a few days,” He concluded, pulling away from the bike as he rose to a stand from his previous squatting position. He glanced down at your back and then back to you, taking that damned face of yours.

“Say, you came here few weeks ago didn't 'cha?” Adefemi tucked one arm under another as he tilted his head slightly to the left, his metal arm glinting in the low light of the shop. “If you just wanted an excuse to see me, just walk in,” he shrugged, his dark eyebrows raising with the rise of his shoulders.

“Before I get to work, any metal needin' fixing for you?” One thing he liked about you was how human you were. You strayed away from bulky cyberware sticking mainly to little enhancements, never anything flashy like a metal spine or a chrome leg. It made Adefemi think of you less like a metal zombie.

“Maybe just a routine check-up will do.” It didn't hurt to get checked up occasionally seeing that you pretty much neglect your metal needs. You didn't have anything flashy enough to constantly take care of, which was good in a way.

Adefemi nods, hand on his hip as he juts his thumb behind him, pointing to the medical recliner chair hidden behind the plastic translucent curtains. It was very much like a medical setting, one you'd find in a hospital if it wasn't so worn out and stacked with metal parts and whatnot.

You climb onto the chair, laying awkwardly down on it. The fabric of the chair sticks to your bare skin as you adjust your position on it to get comfortable.

Adefemi comes in shortly, pulling those plastic curtains around the two of you as if there were people to see—there wasn't. But it undoubtedly sets the "doctor" mood.

He's wearing one blue glove on his hand with flesh and bones while he disinfects his metal one. They're a sort of silicone material for his fingers, but his palm and the rest are full metal. But it always changes, everytime you come Adefemi always has a new set of fingers like he switches them out based on preference.

“Just a regular check-up aye?” He leans on the side of the recliner with one forearm along it before pushing himself off of it to grab a few tools. “How's your eyesight? I could enhance your night vision if that suits your fancy.”

Night vision. Crucial for races in the dark, especially when those other sadistic assholes always push to ride in the night. You were never one to be into that sensory depravation stuff when it comes to races, preferred to know when you're about to hit the curb and total yourself and your bike.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Adefemi doesn't need a verbal confirmation from you, he just knows from that look in your face “This might sting or feel a bit weird but if you need—one—nice, warm hand to hold onto, I can take off my glove.” What a charm.

You almost consider his proposal when the tweezers come dangerously close to your eye; he's already done the necessary calibrating and loosening screws to ease the process but you can never get used to having your eye plucked out of your head.

It's jarring feeling yourself lose vision in just a second, all you could do is hear Adefemi walk around with his heavy boots against stone cold floors. He's talking—which is a relief—about anything just to reassure you that he's still there and he hasn't disappeared.

Your fingers twitch a little when he's slotting your eye back into its socket; a few blinks and everything seems just a tad bit sharper, clearer.

“What a big boy,” He's praising you, but in the way a mother would do to her son, which only slightly offended you, “Didn't need me to hold your hand, so brave.”

His chest puffs out every time he laughs and he's ruffling your hair before moving on. You see his eyes flicker a gentle blue as he scans your whole body in what you guess for any signs of injury. It was common that you'd get at least a few scratches or cuts from your races.

He pauses after seeing a particularly nasty gash running from your hip bone down to your inner thigh. You must've taken quite the fall to get something like that, to have a gash all the way from the side of your hip to your thigh.

“Nasty,” he grimaces, almost as if visualising how you got it. “I gotta get a little close n' personal, hope that's alright,” He raises his palms, holding his hands up in surrender and to show his peace.

He's unbuttoning your pants and sliding it under your legs, folding it neatly and placing it on the table beside him. You can tell he's been raised well, folds your clothes efficiently and neatly, makes you wonder if he's the type of person to have his closets and drawers all tidy like that.

He pushes the bottom of your underwear up to see a little more of that marred skin. He takes a good look at it before grabbing a cotton ball and gently dabbed it along the cut. There were some awkward moments were he had to blindly apply the medication to the gash that was covered by your clothing. The cotton ball was coated in some sort of antiseptic which inevitably stung, and before you could squirm or start kicking him in the face out of pain, Adefemi uses his cold, metal hand to hold you down by your thigh.

“Don't go thrashing your legs like a madman, you'll hurt yourself more than me,” His voice is lazy, almost tired but still has a playful lilt to it. His hand eventually travels to your lower stomach, and he applies a gentle heat to his hand to soothe you—an enhancement he gave himself.

It's a new one, since you've never seen him use it before but it's nice, like a heat pack resting on your tummy.

“New enhancement?” You ask, and momentarily the stinging pain is forgotten.

“Yeah, you like it? I got a few others too,” His eyes are trained on your wound but his mind is focused on your words. A true multi-tasker. He lifts his head to reach for some bandages, before he looks back up at you.

“I'm gonna take off the uh—rest just so I can bandage you properly,” He's sliding down your underwear extremely slowly, giving you enough time to back out and tell him to stop if you ever got uncomfortable. He slides it down your legs and off from your feet, placing it on top of your folded jeans.

He lifts your thigh up just enough for him to roll the bandage under and over the flesh. Both his hands are on you, one metal hand gently cupping the side of your thigh while the other secures the white bandages over your wound. You're staring at his face, gazing at the way his eyes always seem to flicker to one specific spot. It makes you concious to say the least, but you'd trust him with your whole body.

Adefemi seems to notice your darting eyes and he sighs with a small smile, shaking his head as he looks up at you.

“Gettin' nervous are we?” He drawls, his voice a low rumble as if etched with a lack of sleep—or too much, “We can check that up too, If you're up for it.”

You can't bring yourself to say no, it's been awhile since you've really been able to spend time with your good ol' mechanic in that way. Though you're not entirely sure if he genuinely means to check or if he's inviting you to do something else.

“Y'know dysfunction is gettin' real common lately.”

Right.

“Can't hurt to treat it early, can it?”

Right.

You slowly nod, tilting your head to the side mostly out of embarrassment. He's so slow in his movements, gently brushing his fingertips along your folds, using two fingers to push them apart in a V shape. Its a strange feeling, cold metal on the warmest part of your body, it makes you twitch. Adefemi stays in that position, just staring at your flesh, taking note of whatever he's observing.

“Looks good, I'll run a few tests alright?” You know what he's implying with that, and he's taking it a step further by flexing his metallic hand “We can test my new features while we're at it.”

He shifts to stay beside you rather than at your legs, one hand leaning over the table beside your recliner with a pen between his fingers while his other hand rests low on your pelvis.

“At anytime you feel any pain or uncomfort, let me know,” He's using that fake tone of his to make himself sound a little more like a real doctor. More than the back alley mechanic he is.

He's careful with his movements as he slips a finger over your slit, the base of his finger brushes against your clit as he dips the tip into your opening. He hears you gasp a little and you can faintly hear a small chuckle to himself, followed by the scribbles of pen on paper.

He's so slowly rubbing his finger in and out, ensuring everytime he pulls his finger out, he digs the ball of his palm against that sweet nub. The mechanical heat from the rest of his metallic hand on your lower stomach doesn't help either; its almost soothing despite how agonisingly gentle and lazy he's being with you.

Adefemi glances back down at you before speaking, “Don't freak out, yeah? I ain't here to hurt you. It's just a little buzz—it'll feel good in a sec'.”

You feel a soft vibration from his finger, like a slow massage gun. He lets you adjust, getting all your squirms and soft whimpers as you restrain your back from arching up into his hand.

He slots another finger in—his ring finger alongside with his middle—firmly warming his fingers deep within your tight walls before upping the intensity. He arches his hand up from its resting position along your body, pressing his thumb against your clit. Adefemi rubs it in deep circles, observing the way you rake your fingers against his poor chair and hike your knees up to half-assedly alleviate the overwhelming sensation.

“You enjoying yourself?” He snorts at the tremble of your eyelashes and the whines bubbling in your throat, “Feels good don't it? Got it just for seein' pretty boys like you come all unwrapped.”

He pulls his soaked fingers from your cunt, rubbing your aching pussy like a gentle caress before delving his fingers back inside. You would've thought the soft scribbling in the background would drive you insane but its hard to think about what pisses you off more than what pleasures you.

“You gonna come pretty boy?” He teases slowly, the drowsiness of his tone was pretty much hypnotising—the things this man could do with his voice alone. His lazy chuckles were a product of seeing your pre-cum spray out from the frequency of the vibrations his hand was giving off, and the desperate raise of your hips to meet his fingers.

“Hmm... ain't that right?”

He writes down something for one last time before he places the pen down, turning his full attention to you. His free full flesh hand comes down on your head, stroking along the direction your hair sprouts from the crown of your head.

Adefemi's gentle head caresses have a great difference to his other hand. He's taken the responsibility to get you across the edge, curling his fingers agaisnt your sweet spot as he starts thrusting his fingers. It makes an obscene plap noise each time he pounds his thick, metal fingers into you.

With the hand so delicately stroking your hair, he grips it enough to manipulate the angle of your head, tilting it back so he can better hear all those noises spill from your mouth.

As your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut, Adefemi hums softly, watching as you soak his recliner with the evidence of your orgasm. He works you through the after-high tuning down the vibrations and focusing on making it feel comfortable.

“Better than I thought,” He notes, sliding his fingers out before walking over to the sink to wash his hands. He glances back at you, legs shut and your head tilted back as your chest rises and falls from your breaths.

“Nothin' to worry about,” he swivels back around, grabbing your underwear as he wipes your bottom half with a warm cloth, slipping the fabric over your ankles, up your thighs and around your hips.

He reaches over and grabs your pants, helping you put them back on and even doing up your buttons for you.

“Next time though, if you just wanna see me, you don't hafta' crash your bike over it.”

[legglesspotato]

An MC who interacts with/has animals and clothes are always hairy. They go to the Demon Lords Castle and run into Barbatos.

*MC walks into the castle*

Barbatos: “Why hello, MC, what brings-“

MC: Hi Barbatos, how are you- what are you doing…?

*Barbatos’ eyes narrow as he eyes their hair-covered clothing*

MC: ?- Not again!

*A lint roller appears in Barbatos’ hand and begins to sprint at them**

MC *while running away*: “DO YOU HAVE TO DO THIS EVERY TIME!?”

Barbatos: “Please, stay still it will only take a moment!”

*Meanwhile behind a wall Diavolo is talking to little D. No.1*

Diavolo: “It really is nice to see MC and Barbatos get along! I’ve never seen Barbatos play with anyone before! Isn’t it wonderful!?”

No.1: “Uh- My lord?-“

*In the background MC and Barbatos are rolling on the ground*

Barbatos: “I will not allow you to see the Young Master like this!”