#a hockey player??? making me want to read again?????

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO. PT.5

pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 - pt.4

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) p in v, virginity loss, squirting, creampie, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, getting caught, pet names (sweetheart, angel, my love), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh’s young god

“You’ve earned it now for sure, sweetheart. You ready?”

His words send a sharp thrill down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach at the sheer possession in his tone. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up further, forcing you to hold his gaze. His blue eyes are still dark, still hazy, but there’s something new simmering beneath the surface now- something wicked, something insatiable.

“Did you like that, angel?” His voice is rough, still laced with the remnants of his pleasure, but now there’s an edge to it- low and dangerous, laced with the promise of something more.

You don’t answer, but the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together instinctively, tells him everything he needs to know.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as his grip shifts, fingers ghosting along your jaw before trailing lower, his knuckles grazing the rapid pulse at your throat. His touch is featherlight, teasing, as if testing just how much you can take.

“You’ve were so good for me,” he murmurs, his thumb swiping across your lower lip, pressing just enough to part your lips slightly. “I think it’s time I take care of you again, yeah?”

The anticipation coils tight in your stomach as he leans forward, his breath hot against your skin. His free hand slides down, fingertips skimming your arm before tracing over your waist, your hips, until he’s gripping you firmly, pulling you closer.

“You want that, don’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs, his lips brushing just below your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

Your body betrays you before you can even answer- your fingers gripping onto his thighs, your breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

Matt chuckles, low and knowing, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“That’s what I thought.”

His hands tighten, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands landing against his chest. His skin is still warm, his dick hard beneath your slick heat.

The way his gaze drags over you- slow, possessive, like he’s already imagining all the ways he’s about to ruin you makes your stomach flip.

His hands slide down, gripping your hips, holding you there like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him.

“You’re shaking,” he notes, voice dark with amusement. “What’s the matter, angel? Too much?”

You shake your head, but he tuts, tilting his head.

“No? Then why don’t you show me just how much you can take?”

The challenge hangs between you, thick with heat, and before you can second-guess yourself, your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you move- shifting against him, running your slick folds him. You don’t know why you’re doing it, but for whatever reason you had the painful urge to create friction between you and him.

Matt’s breath hisses through his teeth, his grip on your hips tightening like a warning.

“Careful, sweetheart, ” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rough with restraint. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying and your mind is too polluted with the feeling of him hard and warm against you so you shift again, just slightly, and that’s all it takes. Matt’s patience snaps.

A low growl rumbles from his chest, and before you can react, his hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he moves.

Your gasp barely has time to escape before you’re in the air, weightless for a moment as he lifts you with ease. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, legs dangling around his waist as he carries you, his grip firm and unyielding, his movements purposeful.

Your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat as he strides across your room.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Matt murmurs against your ear, his voice deep and wrecked, laced with something raw, something possessive.

Your body shivers in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him, your nerves warring with your excitement.

You feel your cool silk sheets against your back as he lays you down, his weight following immediately after, pressing you into the mattress.

His hands roam, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of you beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, hooded, filled with something almost reverent as he takes you in- every curve, every inch of skin exposed to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path down your side, his touch featherlight, making you shiver.

His lips find yours- soft at first, coaxing, but quickly turning hungry, desperate. He kisses you like he’s been starving, like he can’t get enough, his hands never still, never stopping.

“You sure about this?” he rasps against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot, uneven.

The concern in his voice tugs at something deep in your chest, and it only makes you fall harder.

You nod, biting your lip, eyes wide and full of trust as you whisper, “I want this. I want you.”

Matt groans, his hand slipping beneath your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist as his lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint, his self-control hanging by a thread.

But he won’t rush. Not with you. Not when he finally has you where he’s always wanted you- completely his.

And tonight that’s exactly what you’ll be.

Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours for just a second as he gathers himself, as if grounding himself in this moment. His fingers trail lightly along your side, tracing the delicate curve of your waist, his touch so careful- like he’s handling something precious.

Because to him, you are.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, lower, laced with something almost tender. His fingertips ghost over your arm, your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to pretend you’re not.”

Your breath hitches, and you nod, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you try to steady yourself. He’s right- you are nervous. Your heart is racing, your stomach tight with anticipation, with the weight of everything this moment means. But you trust him.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” you whisper softly, your voice a squeak. Your cheeks heat at the confession even though he already knows. It’s still embarrassing to you how inexperienced you sound, how vulnerable.

Matt groans, his hands flexing against your hips. “Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself in. “You have no idea how much that turns me on, do you?”

Your lips part, confused, and his gaze darkens, his fingers tilting your chin up.

“You’re so innocent,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he can’t believe it, like it’s something he’s savoring. “So sweet. So fucking pure.”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip, dragging it down slightly, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “And you’re giving yourself to me,” he says, voice thick, reverent. “Letting me be your first.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of his words, at the intensity in his gaze, like he’s memorizing every second of this, like this means just as much to him as it does to you.

“I want it to be you,” you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, holding onto him, grounding yourself in him. “I trust you, Matt.”

He groans again, low and wrecked, his restraint visibly unraveling at the edges. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His lips trail lower, slow and deliberate, down your throat, to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. He takes his time, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of exposed skin, his hands never rushing, never demanding.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he reassures you, his voice gentle but firm. “Just let me take care of you. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

His fingers slide down your sides, mapping out your body with reverence, learning you, memorizing you. He’s slow, patient, making sure you feel everything, making sure you have time to adjust, to breathe.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “So perfect.”

Matt hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, his touch impossibly gentle. His blue eyes search yours, dark but soft, so full of something deep and unspoken.

“You’re absolutely sure?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper, but beneath it is a layer of concern, of restraint.

You nod, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Matt exhales slowly, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “Okay, angel,” he murmurs, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

His hand traces down your sides again, warm and steady, grounding you as he uses his other hand to position himself, swiping the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times, collecting your arousal that’s dripping onto your thighs.

You both moan at the contact, your eyes glued to his cock, his eyes glued to you. Every movement is unhurried and deliberate- like he’s savoring every second, like he’s making sure you’re ready.

But when he finally starts to push in, your breath catches- your entire body tensing at the unfamiliar stretch, the slow, burning pressure.

Matt freezes immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his forehead drops against yours. “Shit,” he breathes, voice tight. “You’re so -fuck- so tight, angel.”

A small whimper escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s more than you expected- it aches, a deep, overwhelming pressure that steals the breath from your lungs.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Matt-” Your voice wobbles and comes out small and uncertain. You knew he looked big, but you didn’t know it would feel this big.

His head snaps up, and the second he sees your expression, his entire demeanor shifts. His hands cup your face instantly, his thumbs wiping at the wetness gathering beneath your lashes.

“Hey, hey- sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, soothing. “I’ve got you. We don’t have to do this, okay? Just say the word, and we stop.”

You shake your head quickly, your fingers tightening around his biceps. “No- I want to,” you insist, though your voice is barely a whisper. “It just… it just hurts a little.”

Matt swallows hard, his restraint written all over his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t push any further. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he breathes against your mouth. “So good for me.”

His hands stroke your sides, slow and reassuring, easing the tension in your body. He kisses you again. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck- each one gentle, patient, as he gives you time to adjust.

“Just breathe for me,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Relax, my love. Let me in.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to will your body to unclench, and slowly, bit by bit, the burn starts to fade. It’s still overwhelming, still a stretch, but the pain begins to dull, replaced by something warmer, something deeper.

Matt watches your face carefully, his fingers brushing soothing circles into your skin. “Better?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod hesitantly. “Yeah… better.”

He exhales in relief, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before he moves, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re taking me so well.”

You feel so impossibly full- stretched beyond anything you ever thought possible. It’s overwhelming, an ache that borders on too much, like your body is being split apart, struggling to take all of him.

A fresh wave of tears prick at your eyes, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps as you shift slightly, trying to adjust.

“Are you… are you all the way in?” you whisper, your voice small.

You prop yourself up on trembling elbows, forcing yourself to look down and the second your gaze lands between your bodies, your stomach drops.

He’s not even halfway there.

Your eyes widen, lips parting in silent disbelief, and when you snap your head up to meet his gaze, Matt is already watching you.

His blue eyes are dark, searching, laced with nothing but pure lust, his jaw tight as he takes in your expression.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding on.

You swallow thickly, your fingers clutching onto his arms, your entire body trembling beneath him.

“I…” You trail off, unable to form words, the realization hitting you like a freight train as you lay back down.

Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and uneven.

“We’ll go slow,” he murmurs. His hands stroke over your thighs, your waist, smoothing over your skin in silent reassurance. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

His lips brush against yours, soft and patient, as he whispers against your mouth. “Just breathe for me.”

And as he finally, finally sinks in all the way, filling you completely, his hands never stop touching you, never stop soothing you.

Matt stills the moment he’s fully inside you, his breath ragged, his arms nearly trembling as he holds himself still. His forehead presses against yours, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room is the shared rhythm of your breathing, the quiet hum of your bodies pressed so intimately together.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good, angel- so warm, so tight.”

You whimper softly, still adjusting to the overwhelming fullness, the deep stretch that leaves you breathless. Your body is still tense, still unsure, but Matt doesn’t move, doesn’t rush, doesn’t do anything except hold you close, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing slow, comforting circles against your hip.

You nod hesitantly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath your touch. “It’s… a lot,” you admit, your voice small, shaky.

Matt exhales sharply, his grip tightening like he’s barely holding himself together. “I know, my love,” he soothes, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I know. Just breathe for me, yeah? Let your body relax.”

His hands continue moving- gliding up and down your sides, ghosting over your stomach, slipping beneath your thighs to pull you just a little closer. He kisses you again, deep and slow, his tongue tracing along your lower lip, distracting you, coaxing you into letting go of the last bit of tension.

And when you finally, finally exhale, your muscles softening beneath him, Matt groans, his jaw clenching.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “That’s my good girl.”

He pulls out just an inch before easing back in, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time. You gasp, nails digging into his back, overwhelmed by the sensation, the way he fills you so completely, like he was made to fit against you, inside you.

Matt’s breathing is ragged now, his control visibly fraying, but he keeps his pace slow, keeps his movements gentle as he only pushes about and inch out and back into you. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw. “Taking me so well- being so good for me.”

Your body starts to adjust, the discomfort slowly fading, replaced by something warmer, something that makes your toes curl and your breath stutter. A soft moan escapes you, and Matt groans in response, his fingers tightening against your hips.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough, strained. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”

You nod breathlessly, your hands sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, clinging to him as the warmth between your legs grows, the pleasure building in slow, tantalizing waves.

“Please,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re begging for, only knowing that you don’t want him to stop, don’t want this moment to end.

Matt groans like the sound of your voice is his undoing. “Fuck,” he breathes, his movements still slow but deeper now, more deliberate. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

He presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that feels like a confession, like worship. Every roll of his hips is measured, controlled, like he’s savoring you, like he wants this to last forever.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with possession. “You know that, right?”

You shiver beneath him, nodding without hesitation. “Yes,” you whisper.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin, and his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head.

“Good girl.”

And then he moves, slow and deep and perfect, and you finally, finally surrender completely.

Matt’s slow, controlled thrusts start to falter, his breathing growing heavier, more uneven. He’s been holding back, reining himself in, treating you like something fragile, something delicate. But the second you moan his name, the second your nails scrape down his back, something snaps inside him.

“Fuck-” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. So perfect for me. I can’t hold back anymore. Tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?”

His pace picks up immediately, his movements more desperate, more intense. The deep, steady thrusts give way to something rougher, something needier, like he can’t get enough of you, like he needs to feel every inch of you wrapped around him.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growls against your ear, his voice dark, strained with pleasure. “Wanted me to ruin you?”

You whimper beneath him, barely able to form words, your body overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you now, by the way he’s making you feel.

He smirks against your neck, biting down just enough to make you gasp. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips tracing down your jaw. “Taking me so fucking well. Such a good girl for me.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body arching against him, craving more. He notices, of course he notices, and groans, one hand slipping between your bodies, fingers finding the most sensitive part of you.

“Fuck- listen to you,” he breathes, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. “So fucking needy for me. You like this, don’t you? Like being my good girl?”

You nod frantically, barely able to think straight, the pleasure building so fast it leaves you dizzy.

Matt chuckles, dark and satisfied, his other hand gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his shoulder to take him even deeper.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his pace relentless now, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. “God, you feel so fucking good. So perfect. All mine.”

You’re close- you can feel it, the pleasure coiling tight, ready to snap. Your hands grip his shoulders, your body trembling beneath him, and he notices that too.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart on me?”

You nod, whimpering his name, and that’s all he needs.

His fingers move faster, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out, your entire body tightening around him.

“Come on,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “Be the good girl you know you are and cum for me.”

Everything shatters.

Pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your entire body trembling as you fall apart beneath him.

Matt groans, feeling your body tense and shudder around him as your climax washes over you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, and he watches you unravel beneath him with a look of pure possession.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his fingers still working you through your high, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. “So fucking beautiful when you cum around me.”

But he isn’t done. Not even close.

His hips never stop moving, never stop thrusting deep into you, and the overstimulation has you whimpering, your body twitching as he keeps pushing you past your limit.

“Too much?” he teases, smirking against your neck as he rolls his hips just right, making your back arch off the bed. “You can take it, sweetheart. Just let me make you feel good.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, but the heat in your stomach is already building again, the sensitivity morphing into another wave of unbearable pleasure.

“You wanted me to make you feel good, didn’t you?” Matt growls, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider as he pounds into you with deep, bruising thrusts. “Wanted me to use this perfect untouched little body until you crumble?”

You can’t even answer, your words turning into breathless moans, and Matt groans, his pace rough and unrelenting.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his head falling against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “So tight, so fucking perfect- God, I’m not gonna stop. Not until I’ve had my fill of you.”

He moves your other leg over his shoulder, sinking even deeper, and you cry out, your whole body jolting from the intensity of it.

“That’s it,” he praises, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your waist, your thighs, your breasts. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You’re already close again- your body hasn’t had time to recover, the pleasure slamming into you with relentless force.

“You gonna cum for me again?” Matt grits out, his voice wrecked, strained. “Come on, baby, give me another- wanna feel you squeeze me again.”

His fingers press harder, rubbing tight, devastating circles against your swollen clit, matching the deep, punishing rhythm of his hips. The pressure is unbearable, the heat coiling so tightly in your stomach that you can barely breathe.

“Matt-” you gasp, your entire body locking up, your back arching as white-hot pleasure rips through you.

But this time it’s different.

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking tidal wave, crashing into you with so much force that your vision blurs, your breath catches, your legs shake uncontrollably over his shoulders. A sharp, helpless cry rips from your throat as your body clenches so hard around him that he groans, his rhythm faltering.

A sudden rush of liquid spills between you, soaking the sheets, drenching his stomach, your thighs, everything.

For a split second, your mind goes blank.

Your body shudders violently, your chest heaving, your limbs weak, your head spinning.

Matt stills.

You’re panting, shaking, blinking up at him in shock, completely dazed, barely able to comprehend what just happened.

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls back slightly, looking down at the mess between you.

His lips part, his eyes darkening, and then he lets out a low, guttural groan.

“Holy fuck.”

Your face burns, your stomach twisting in embarrassment. You have no idea what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, mortified, trying to close your legs, trying to hide, but Matt’s hands clamp down on your thighs, spreading you open again.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, his voice low, feral, dripping with pure, unfiltered desire. His thumb swipes through the wetness, his breath shaky, his body tense.

“You just fucking squirted all over me,” he mutters, almost like he can’t believe it, like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You let out a small, humiliated whimper, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

“Sweetheart,” he purrs, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, caging you in. “You think I’d be anything other than completely fucking obsessed with this?”

Your eyes widen as he grinds against you again, still hard, still throbbing inside you.

“You’re gonna do that again,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your pulse, his hips pulling back only to slam into you again.

“And this time, I want you to scream my name when you do it.”

Matt doesn’t give you a second to recover- doesn’t give you time to process what just happened.

Before you can catch your breath, before you can even close your legs, he’s already moving again, thrusting deep into you, stretching you all over again, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go.

“Oh my god- Matt-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, shaking, your entire body still tingling from the last orgasm.

But Matt- Matt is relentless.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my fuckin name,” he growls, snapping his hips forward, his pace turning brutal, needy, unforgiving. “You’re gonna give me another one. I know you can.”

His fingers slip between your bodies, rubbing tight, torturous circles over your clit again, zeroing in on your most sensitive spot.

You whimper, thrash, tremble, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming, too intense.

“Matt- I-” you choke out, your legs twitching, your thighs trying to squeeze together, but he doesn’t let you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, desperate, obsessed. “Let it happen. Let me see you cum all over me like that again.”

His pace grows punishing, his fingers unrelenting, and you can feel it building again.

The heat, the pressure, the sharp coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach so fast it nearly blinds you.

You try to fight it- try to pull away, the overstimulation too much, too intense.

But Matt doesn’t let you.

“Don’t you fucking run from it,” he growls, pinning you down, holding you still, his breath hot against your ear. “Be a good girl and fucking take it.”

That’s all it takes.

Your body seizes, your back arching off the bed, and then-

A sharp, helpless scream rips from your throat as another rush of liquid spills from you, gushing between your legs, soaking the sheets, drenching him all over again.

“Holy fuck-” Matt groans, his jaw clenching, his hips faltering as he watches it happen, as he feels it happen.

Your entire body shakes, your vision going white, your mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls, his voice strained, wrecked, completely gone as he pounds into you one last time.

“Fuck- Y/N-”

.A deep, wrecked groan tears from his throat as he buries himself inside you, his entire body shuddering as he spills into you, his fingers gripping you like he never wants to let go.

For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the warm press of your bodies still tangled together as he pulls out.

Matt collapses against you, his lips brushing over your damp skin as he exhales shakily. “Fuck,” he mutters, still catching his breath. “You’re… unreal.”

You hum softly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. But just when you think you’re done, Matt’s lips curl into a smirk against your skin.

“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?” he murmurs, his hands already sliding down your body, already spreading your legs apart again.

Your breath hitches. “Matt-”

But he’s already kissing down your body, already pressing his fingers against your still-sensitive core.

“You can give me one more,” he coaxes, his voice smooth, confident. “And then another. And then another.”

His blue eyes flicker up to yours, dark and filled with something insatiable.

“You’re mine for the night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. “And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Within seconds he’s moving again, his hands pulling the teeshirt over his head and throwing it across the room, hands gripping your thighs and spreading you open beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, wild, still hungry as he drags his fingers down your oversensitive core, teasing, testing.

“You can give me more, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “I know you can.”

Your body jolts as his fingers slip between your folds, his touch slow but deliberate, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your already throbbing clit. A cry escapes your lips, your body twitching from the complete and utter overstimulation, but he just smirks, watching you squirm beneath him.

“Too much?” he teases, tilting his head as he leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. “That’s what you said last time, too- and look at you now.”

His fingers push inside you, and you gasp, your nails digging into his arms as he starts pumping them at a devastating pace, curling them just right. His thumb continues rubbing tight circles against your clit, and the pleasure slams into you again, sharp and overwhelming.

“Matt- ” you cry out, but your words dissolve into breathless moans as he keeps working you, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Shh, my love,” he soothes, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. “Just let me make you feel good again.”

His fingers work you faster, deeper, and you’re already spiraling, already teetering on the edge again, your body writhing beneath him. He watches your face, his lips curling into a smirk as he sees the way your eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth parts in desperate pleasure.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”

It crashes over you so fast you barely have time to prepare- your 5th orgasm of the night tearing through you, your entire body seizing up as you cry out his name, your hands clutching onto him like he’s the only thing grounding you.

Matt groans, feeling the way you clench around his fingers, the way your body trembles from the sheer force of it. He keeps his movements steady, dragging out your pleasure until you’re twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering against his shoulder.

“God damn,” he breathes, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. “So fucking good for me. So fucking perfect.”

But he’s not done. Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. Your breath catches, your body still trembling, but Matt’s hands are firm, steady, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

“You can give me one more,” he murmurs, his hands smoothing over your hips before gripping them tight. “Just one more, baby.”

He pushes inside you in one slow, deep thrust, and the stretch makes you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as he fills you up completely.

“Fuck,” Matt groans, his hands tightening on your waist. “You’re still so fucking tight. How are you still this tight?”

He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, and you let out a strangled moan, your back arching as he sets a brutal, relentless pace.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you harder and unbelievably faster and deeper, like he’s finally letting himself go. “So fucking perfect for me.”

His hands slide up your back, one gripping the back of your neck, the other slipping between your legs, rubbing rough, desperate circles against your puffy and abused clit. Your body jolts at the contact, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach again, and Matt groans at the way you squeeze around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate. “One more. Come with me this time.”

You’re so close, the pleasure slamming into you so hard it leaves you breathless. Matt’s grip tightens, his movements growing frantic, and his voice is wrecked as he whispers,

“You’re mine, baby. All fucking mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice, the way he’s taking you, claiming you—it sends lightning through your veins, the coil in your stomach tightening dangerously fast.

“Matty- ” you choke out, your nails digging into his back, your body clenching around him, and he feels it, notices it, because his thrusts somehow become even harder, faster and deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart, don’t hold back,” he groans, his thumb slipping between you, pressing even rougher circles against your swollen clit. “You’re gonna come for me again. I can feel it.”

His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, letting him sink in even deeper, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

It’s too much.

Your whole body locks up, your mouth falling open as a strangled, wrecked cry rips from your throat. Your orgasm slams into you, wave after violent wave, and you can’t stop it-

The release pours out of you, drenching the sheets, soaking him, the mess between you completely obscene.

Matt loses it.

“Holy fucking shit-” he groans loudly, his hips slamming into you one last time, his entire body tensing hard as he buries himself deep inside you.

His release spills into you again, hot and endless, mixing with yours, his grip on you tightening, his body shuddering from the sheer force of it.

Matt finally pulls out, groaning softly as he watches his release spill out of you, dripping onto the already ruined sheets beneath you. He lets out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, looking down at the complete mess you both made. “We absolutely destroyed these sheets.”

You let out a whimper, covering your face with your hands, still dazed, still trembling from everything that just happened.

Matt grins, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against your temple before rolling off the bed.

“Stay there,” he murmurs, pulling the soaking wet sheets off the mattress in one swift motion. The fabric lands on the floor with a heavy thud, and he’s already reaching for fresh ones, moving quickly, effortlessly, like he’s done this before.

Your face burns at the thought.

Matt glances over his shoulder at you, smirking, noticing your expression.

“Don’t go getting all shy on me now, baby,” he teases, snapping the new sheet over the mattress, smoothing it out with practiced ease. “Not after you just squirted all over me, what? Three times?”

You groan, burying your face in a pillow as he lets out a low, satisfied laugh.

“Adorable,” he muses, tossing the ruined sheets into the corner before climbing back into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.

“All set, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, grinning as he wraps himself around you again. “Now get over here and let me hold you.”

And even as exhaustion starts to take over, his grip never loosens- his body never stops pressing against yours, holding you close like he never wants to let go.

Matt groans softly, still catching his breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. His body is warm, his skin slick with sweat, but neither of you move for a long moment, both too blissed out, too exhausted.

You’re still blushing furiously, the aftermath of everything settling in.

But there’s one thing you can’t quite wrap your head around.

You shift slightly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes, your fingers playing with the hem of the blanket.

“Matt…” you murmur, your voice small.

He hums in response, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.

You hesitate before finally asking, genuine confusion in your tone,

“…What happened to me… when I… you know?”

Matt stills.

His lips twitch, and he lifts his head slightly, brows raising as he looks at you, almost like he didn’t hear you right.

“You mean… when you came?” he asks carefully, watching your expression.

You chew on your lip, your cheeks burning, your body curling in on itself slightly.

“I- I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling incredibly shy. “I just… it felt really good but then- then it was like…a lot.”

Matt’s eyes darken, his grip tightening slightly on your hip as he exhales through his nose, clearly holding back a smirk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, amusement lacing his voice. “You really don’t know?”

You shake your head quickly, suddenly mortified.

Matt grins, propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you like he’s completely enamored.

“Baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You squirted. Like I said”

You blink.

Your brows furrow, and you shift under the blanket, pulling it closer around you, feeling smaller, embarrassed.

“I- what?”

Matt chuckles, clearly loving this.

“You know…” he smirks, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “When a girl gets so worked up, so completely lost in pleasure that she-”

He gestures vaguely to the soaked sheets on the floor.

You follow his gaze- and suddenly, realization dawns.

Your eyes widen, your face going completely red, and you whip your head back to him, absolutely mortified.

“MATT!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands.

He laughs, genuinely laughs, shaking his head as he pulls your hands away, his grip gentle but firm.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Don’t get all embarrassed. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You groan, your cheeks burning, trying to turn away from him, but he won’t let you.

“Sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him.

His blue eyes are dark, filled with something warm, something possessive.

“You have no idea how much that turned me on,” he murmurs. “How fucking good you looked when you let go like that.”

Your stomach flutters violently, and you bury your face in his chest, whining softly.

Matt just laughs again, wrapping his arms tighter around you, completely obsessed with your innocence, your sweetness.

Then he shifts.

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed, as he carefully untangles himself from you and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Where are you going?” you murmur sleepily, frowning as you reach for him.

Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he stands. “Relax, sweetheart. I just need to clean you up.”

That wakes you up a little more.

You sit up, your brow furrowing in confusion. “You need to… what?”

Matt glances at you over his shoulder, smirking. “Clean you up,” he repeats simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He grabs a clean rag from the dresser and disappears into the bathroom.

You sit there, stunned, your legs still weak and trembling as you try to process the situation. He’s… he’s going to clean you up?

You don’t have time to overthink it before Matt is back, damp rag in hand, his expression calm and casual- like he hasn’t just spent the past however long wrecking you completely.

But then he kneels back onto the bed, his large hands gripping your thighs, and you suddenly feel very small, very exposed.

“Matt-” you start, but he just smirks, shaking his head as he spreads your legs apart again.

“Sweetheart,” he tuts, his voice low, teasing. “I just made you cum like six times. You can’t be all shy and shit now.”

Your entire face burns, your thighs instinctively trying to press back together, but Matt just grips them firmly, keeping you open for him.

“Matthew!” you squeak, but then you see it.

Your gaze drops, and your breath catches as you notice the mess between your legs- his cum, mixed with yours, spilling out of you, slick and warm against your thighs.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, absolutely mortified.

Matt chuckles, his eyes darkening as he watches your reaction. “It’s normal, angel,” he reassures you, his thumb stroking your inner thigh.

You look back up at him, eyes wide. “You’re not… grossed out?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. If anything…” He leans in slightly, his gaze flickering downward, his jaw clenching. “I’m almost getting hard again just looking at it.”

Your face somehow turns even redder.

“Oh my gosh,” you whimper, covering your face with your hands as you flop back against the pillows, absolutely overwhelmed.

Matt just chuckles again, his smirk unmistakably smug as he brings the warm rag between your legs and starting to clean you up, his touch gentle, careful.

But even as he moves with patience, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, and the way he looks at you makes you wonder just how much rest you’re actually going to get tonight.

After he finishes cleaning you up, Matt tosses the rag aside and looks down at you, his blue eyes softer now, filled with something warm, something that makes your stomach flutter. He brushes a hand over your thigh, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles.

“You sore?” he asks, his voice low, genuinely concerned.

You shift slightly, feeling the lingering ache between your legs, and nod. “Yeah… it hurts down here.”

Matt exhales, running a hand through his hair before he moves, standing just long enough to walk around the bed before slipping under the covers on the other side. He pats the mattress beside him.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, inviting.

You hesitate only for a second before scooting over, letting him pull you into his arms. His warmth surrounds you instantly, his body solid and comforting, his scent still intoxicating- like musk and something undeniably him.

His chin rests lightly atop your head, and he sighs, his hands lazily tracing up and down your back, grounding you both in the quiet afterglow.

“How was it?” he asks after a moment, his voice rumbling against your skin. “Your first time?”

You let out a soft giggle, nuzzling closer against his chest. “It was really good,” you admit, your voice muffled against his skin. “But… I don’t really know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you came six times, I’d say it was pretty damn good, sweetheart.”

“Is that normal?” Your cheeks flush, and you bite your lip, hiding your face against him.

He laughs again, clearly amused. “No. Not usually. But that’s a good thing,”

“Matt?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

“Mm?”

You shift, rolling over so you can face him. He tilts his head slightly, his brows raising at your expression.

“How many people have you done it with?” you ask, your gaze flickering downward, suddenly shy.

Matt blinks, visibly caught off guard. His mouth opens, then closes, and for the first time since the night started, he looks almost… awkward.

“Uh…” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”

You shrug, still not looking at him, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” you mumble, your voice suddenly small. “I was just… wondering.”

Matt watches you for a long moment, and then realization dawns. His lips twitch slightly, and he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

You immediately look down, avoiding his eyes entirely, and he exhales sharply, his smirk growing.

“Oh, you are,” he murmurs, his fingers tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes flicker with something playful, something teasing. “That’s adorable.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles, prying them away and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, “I don’t care about anyone before you. The only person I’m thinking about right now- the only person I want- is you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, and you finally look up at him, your lips parting slightly. His expression softens, and his thumb strokes over your cheek, his gaze filled with something deeper, something more sincere.

“Okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.”

Matt grins, clearly satisfied, and pulls you back against his chest, his arms tightening around you.

“Good,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Because I plan on keeping you all to myself.”

Matt tilts your chin up again, his blue eyes flickering between yours, his gaze deep, searching. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his breath warm as he leans in.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not like before- not rushed or desperate. This kiss is slow, deep, intimate. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your stomach flip, makes your body melt into his touch. His hands cradle your face like you’re something precious, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your jaw, down your neck.

You sigh into his mouth, your arms looping around his shoulders, pulling him closer. The heat between you starts to build again, your bodies pressing together under the covers, the slow drag of his lips against yours turning into something more heated, more urgent.

Matt groans softly, tilting your head back further as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss. His hands wander lower, slipping beneath the blanket, gripping your waist as he shifts, rolling you onto your back.

He hovers over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips trailing down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice husky, wrecked, “I can’t get enough of you.”

He starts to crawl over you, his knee parting your thighs, his hands framing your face as his lips find yours again, this time more desperate, more claiming-

BANG.

The bedroom door swings open so suddenly it slams against the wall.

“Hey, Y/N, I was a fucking hour into the drive when I realized I forgot my wallet, do you know where I-”

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

You freeze. Matt freezes.

Your brother stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, taking in the scene in front of him:

Matt completely naked and hovering over you, your legs tangled together under the covers, both of you breathless, flushed, naked, and clearly caught in the middle of something.

Your brother’s face twists in absolute horror, his expression shifting from shock to pure rage in a matter of seconds. His jaw clenches, his fists tighten, and then-

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he bellows, his voice shaking the walls.

The room goes still.

Your stomach drops.

Matt’s chest rises and falls slowly, his body tense, frozen, unreadable.

Your eyes snap to his, wide, panicked, pleading.

Matt just meets your gaze, steady and sure, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you speak.

There’s not much you could say anyways.

What is there to do when you’re caught with one man who was off limits?

a/n: and with that, the earned it series has come to an end 🫡 thank you for all the love on this series. YOU ARE ALL INCREDIBLE!! you literally give me motivation to write. so thank you. i know i left on another cliffhanger…. sorry not sorry. the original draft of this chapter was actually like 8k words and included what happened after the brother walked in but i decided that I kinda wanna leave it up to the readers mind. yall get to decide what happens after this! (maybe I’ll put out an epilogue or smth idk) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH!!! SO MUCH LOVE!!!

-c🧡

for @mattsobvimyfav as always, i love you. thank you for being you. you are my sunshine.

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[councilestatebarbie]

who would've thought that the thing to get me out of a reading slump would be quinn hughes saying that he reads books

[carpisuns]

gaining a new interest/joining a new fandom is always kind of intimidating it feels like there’s so much you’ve missed out on by not enjoying this thing before so you’re like GRAHHHH got to catch up so I can have peak enjoyment like all the Enjoying This Thing experts around here! which is so silly bc if you enjoy a thing you’re already there but. yknow

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[vvampirelust]

thinking about ice hockey player!abby

warnings: smut, 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, strap on sex, spanking, quite rough sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, not proof read

that girl would get veryyyy possessive

she’s the star player, hell practically the star of campus. (frat!abby??) having been the captain back on her old high school team, she’s earned a name for herself.

so of course she’s gonna adore you in her jersey. surprising her post-game as you celebrate her victory, snug in her blue hockey hoodie #13 adorning the back. abby picks you up when you finally get to see her, kissing you with force, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. “did you see that?!” she’s asking excitedly, and there’s nothing you love more than seeing the passionate shine in her eyes as she recalls her last goal. you join her and the team for a celebratory beer in the parking lot, reminiscing and cheering loudly about the best moments.

“nice hoodie, babe,” abby calls from behind you as you both walk back to your car. abby, the few steps latter was enjoying the view with a smirk on her lips. you match her smile, twirling once in front of her, pulling a laugh from her throat, “you like? found it under my bed, wonder who left it there,” you shrug, a lightness to your voice. abby catches up to you, strong arms hugging you to her chest, faux gasp leaving her lips, “we’ll never know,” she breaks off into a chuckle and you can’t help but join her, shoving her with a roll of your eyes.

back home, you had abby pressed against the inside of her door. her dad away on a conference in seattle meant you and abby have been playing wife in her beach house for the past week. she set a challenge to fuck you anywhere and everywhere possible. who would complain? “baby. baby,” you’re both lost in the kids you’re sharing. the flat of your palms find her chest, pushing her softly against the door. “wait here two minutes, take your clothes off and i’ll meet you in the bedroom,” you speak lowly, flashing her the eyes as a coy smile spreads on your lips.

abby audibly groans, “fuck, go. now.” she orders, not wanting to wait any longer.

approximately 1 minute and 29 seconds later, abby finds you in nothing but her jersey, sprawled across the kingsized bed like a pornstar. she bites her lip as she takes you in, you’re so slutty, she thinks, she loves it. she makes a note to tease you for it at some point. “look at you, pretty girl,” she admires, those icy eyes never leaving your body, even as she walks around the side of the bed, “that all for me?” abby asks, breaking her gaze to bend over. just the sound of that specific drawer opening has your thighs rubbing together. her question fell on deaf ears, you too busy staring at your smokeshow of a girlfriend. she had done what you’d said, a pile of clothes on the stairs waiting to be tripped over in the morning. but god, the sight was worth it. your eyes trail the curve of her ass as she was rummaging, you’re near drooling over the way her back muscles shift beneath her tanned skin. abby smirks when she stands to face you again, busying herself with buckling the strap. abby clears her throat;

“baby.” your eyes find hers, “focus.”

head bobbing in a nod, you swallow the whimper threatening to escape. “i asked, if this was all for me? hm? you look so sexy in my hoodie babe,” abby crawls over where you are pushed up on your elbows, caging your body with hers. “you played so well out there tonight, anderson. thought you deserved it,” you tell her sweetly, inviting her in with open legs. abby chuckles, moving one big hand to cup the inside of your knee, ever so slowly sliding up your inner thigh. “gettin’ pussy for a good game, do i?” she’s smug, taking hold of what’s hers. you, now unbearably horny starts nodding, “yeah!”

“yeah, sweetheart?” she mocks the high pitch of your voice, lazily nodding along with you. “fuck me, you’re so wet,” thick fingers push between your folds, “want it bad, don’t you baby?” abby grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. “please, abby.” you pull her hair to gain access to her mouth, been deprived too long of the feeling of her lips on yours. her tongue invades your warm mouth, throaty groan following suit, which you swallow happily. the kiss ends with a wet smack, abby’s heavy breaths now mingling with your own. “i know, i know. i’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. and you’re gonna keep that hoodie on, okay?”

“please baby, please fuck m-“ you can barely finish your sentence before she’s using those strong arms to flip you onto all fours, abby’s jersey hitching around your waist. you can feel the weight of her pretty pink strap against your thigh, ass wiggling in anticipation. abby responds with a surprisingly hard spank, jolting you onto your elbows as a yelp passes your lips. “abby, baby, please!” you feel the warmth of her free hand sliding up your spine, hiking her hoodie up, allowing her to see the arch of your back along with the word ‘Anderson’ boldly written in white along your shoulders. “fuck,” she moans.

a strong hand grasps your hip, you can hear abby spit behind you followed by her panting heavily. you whimper when you feel her tip splitting your slick folds, wasting no time as she begins to thrust inside of you. pushing deeper with each small rut of her hips, relishing in your little “uh, uh, uhs” abby does this until she bottoms out, your cunt stuffed and throbbing. “that’s it, you always take me so well baby.” abby grips your hips tight.

she fucks you with the same aggression she portrayed on the rink earlier that night. your chest flush against the mattress, your loud moans still echoing through the bedroom, even with your face smushed into the pillows, leaving a wet patch of drool and tears in your wake. using your hips to set the pace, she pulls you back on her cock, profanities slipping past her lips . “such a slut for me, fucking look at this pussy, squeezing so tight,” she moans so prettily, her clit rubbing against the strap just right. she stares at her surname as she gets off, the pace of her thrusts quickening, hurtling towards her climax. the sound of her moans shoot straight to your lower stomach, clenching tighter around her. “my fucking best girl, baby. just needed my lucky charm tonight,” abby huffs out, stuttering, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

abby cums with a cry, curling over your back, arms wrapping under your shoulders. her hips don’t falter for a second, riding out her high while pushing you to your own. at the last moment, her fingers thread in your hair, tugging your head back so she could hear you clearly. she wanted to hear you scream for her, just like you did when she won her game.

“abs i’m- oh my god, abby!” you follow right behind her, practically mewling like a bitch in heat. you cum hard, creaming on your girlfriends cock, she fucks you through it. even as it means hurtling herself into overstimulation, whimpering in your ear until she feels your body beginning to tremble beneath her. abby pants, pushing herself up with a grunt. palms spreading your cheeks, she watches the way your cunt tries clinging to her cock as she slowly pulls out. you’re a whimpering mess, “abby,” you mourn the stretch. “m’right here,” she tells you breathlessly, her thumb running down your folds, circling your gaping hole, collecting the creamy cum leaking from you. her teeth find purchase within her bottom lip once again, taking a last look at the hoodie bunched around your top half. and at her name decorating it.

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[pellucid-constellations]

Faking It

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: This is FLUFF!! With HOCKEY MAN

a/n:​​​ This was originally something completely different but then I hated it so now it's all fluff and now I do not hate it. Pleaseeeee let me know what you think and if you enjoy it!! I love you thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Again?” 

Bucky grinned, split lip tightening uncomfortably. When he turned to his captain, he had the gall to act oblivious. “What do you mean, captain?” 

Steve gave him a disapproving look. “Give it up, pal. There was no need to pick a fight with that guy and you know it.” 

“He was talking shit about the team!” 

“They’ll always be a player talking shit about the team.” 

“Then why’re you breathing down my neck right now, huh? We won. Be happy, Cap,” Bucky encouraged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Steve raised a brow back at him but was clearly fighting back a smirk. Bucky could tell by the way his eyes lifted, contrasting his deep—albeit fake—frown. 

In truth, Bucky had been looking for a fight. He’d been looking for a plethora of fights since the start of the season, and was usually quite successful with his venture. It had garnered him quite the reputation, but where the crowd saw it as a short-fuse on a large man, Steve saw it for what it really was. 

An opportunity to see you. 

And while Steve could appreciate the dedication, it made one of his best players ride out unnecessary time in the penalty box. 

“I am happy. Just not with you,” Steve clarified, knocking Bucky’s arm away. 

Bucky let out a sound close to a scoff. “Even with my extra time in the sin bin I still helped carry. It’s just part of the game, Steve. Gotta protect the team’s pride.” 

“Yeah,” Steve drawled sarcastically, stopping in front of the locker room doors. “I’m sure that was your reasoning. What was it last game? Someone said something about your ma?” 

“Hey, he did.” 

“They always do.”

Heavy footsteps created a commotion in the hall, the rest of the team finally catching up with the pair. They funneled their way into the room for showers and a fresh change of clothes, and Steve stood with his crossed arms leaning against the wall, somehow still directing an admonishing look towards Bucky amidst the crowd. Bucky did his best to look baffled by the unspoken accusation, but then Sam Wilson passed by and Bucky’s ploy was disintegrated. 

“Hey man,” Sam greeted, slapping a friendly hand against Bucky’s arm as he passed. “You let someone beat the shit out of you again so you could go see your girl?” 

Bucky’s scoff returned, but this time Steve was having none of it. He kicked off of the wall and went to follow the rest of the team into the locker room. Bucky watched with a grimace, not only caught, but put on display.

“You know,” Steve called over his shoulder, not expecting Bucky to follow. “You’re dating the girl now. You don’t gotta keep up with this whole schtick.” 

“I don’t have a schtick,” he called back. At the responding laugh from Steve, Bucky yelled, “I don’t!” but no one was listening to him. Or believing him. 

But fine. If his schtick involved you, in any capacity, Bucky would admit to having one. 

Some of what Steve said was right. Bucky was dating you now. You were his girl and that would imply total access to you all the time, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to pick fights or feign injuries anymore (the latter never really worked anyways), because he had a key to your apartment. And you were in his bed more weekends than not. 

But, damn, were you busy right now. 

Bucky had never really considered how much schooling went into becoming a physical therapist until he met you. You were typically swamped with papers and tests and requests from Dr. Cho, but this past month had been exponentially worse thanks to finals. He had seen you about once a week if he was lucky, and that was a generous estimation. Add your crazy schedule to the alarming amount of away games he had over the past few weeks and he was champing at the bit to see you. 

Bucky just prayed it was you in the training room today and not Dr. Cho. His odds were pretty favorable considering the team’s main trainer didn’t usually stick around after games if there were no major injuries, but there was always the off chance she let her interns go home early. But, knowing you, you would be in that room until the rink lights went off. 

God, he loved you. Every overworked, high-strung bit of you. 

He even loved the scolding look you shot him as he pushed open the training room doors, his bruises and cuts on full display. You dropped the pen you were tapping against an overflowing notebook and rocketed out of your rolling stool, and Bucky adored the way you stomped over to him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the curse you clearly wanted to let free. 

“Hey, baby,” Bucky smiled, this time ignoring the sting in his lip. “Funny seeing you here.” 

You huffed, bringing careful fingers up to his chin. “Not very funny,” you mumbled. “Not when you look like someone hit you with their car.” 

Bucky let you fuss for a moment, following your touch as you turned his head back and forth and examined his split knuckles. This was your job, so obviously he let you do it, but he enjoyed watching you. So he didn’t stop you from lifting his jersey up to inspect his middle, because how else would he catch the cute way you scrunch your nose up in concentration? If he pulled his hands away when you started testing the range of motion in his wrists, when else would he be able to track your lips as you softly counted and mouthed gentle confirmations? 

Never. Because you were so damn busy. 

“Missed you,” Bucky said after sneaking a kiss on your forehead while you were prodding at the bruise on his collarbone. “I’ve been missing you a lot.” 

You let a small smile interrupt the disgruntlement on your face. Bucky grinned at the change, pressing another kiss to your hair while he still could. 

“Did you miss me enough to send a right hook into that guy’s jaw?” 

“Yes.” 

Your smile was gone again. Now you looked aghast. “Bucky.” 

“What?” he exclaimed, sliding his torn hands from your healing ones to wrap you in his embrace. “You want me to lie instead? Okay, fine. No, sweetheart, I didn’t start a fight just to have an excuse to see you. That guy got all these punches in on me because I’m out of practice, is all. I don’t think about you every waking second of my life, and while we’re at it, no I did not use your shampoo this morning because I miss how—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, resting your forehead on the divot in his chest. “I get it. Thanks for being truthful.” 

Bucky relished in the feel of you. He had been slightly worried that his state would cause you to be more upset than anything. If you weren’t so tired right now, there was a high chance you’d be yelling at him because of his recklessness instead of resting against his chest. So Bucky jumped at the opportunity, trailing one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. He craned his neck down, burying his face into the juncture of your neck. 

He hadn’t been lying about the shampoo. 

“I miss you too. Even if you act like an idiot sometimes,” you mumbled against his jersey. 

Something in Bucky felt lighter, warm. “Acting like an idiot’s the only way I get to see my girl.” 

You hummed. “Sorry ‘m so busy.” 

You had to be exhausted. Not even a single reprimand had tumbled from your mouth. Bucky had expected at least three. 

“When’s the last time you slept, baby?” Bucky kept his voice low, his thumb making unconscious circles against your hair. 

“I don’t know. In the night.” 

“Okay, thanks smart ass.” Bucky jostled you a bit until your eyes met his. “I meant when did you last take a break? Get a good night’s sleep?” 

You sighed, gaze trailing over his face. “Let me fix you up. Then we can play twenty questions.” 

“Baby—”

“No, Buck, this is the training room, if you haven’t noticed,” you quipped, stepping back and rifling through a few drawers. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you. That’s my job.” 

“Well, what about my job?” he grumbled back. 

“You have failed at your job. Your job is hockey and you instead played human punching bag.” 

“Not that job. My other job. The one where I take care of you.” 

You spun on your heel, a basket of supplies resting on your hip. The sweater that engulfed your frame had the university’s logo stamped across the front, but instead of jeans or slacks—the usual uniform for PT interns—you wore leggings. Your hair was pulled back in the most endearing, pretty mess, and Bucky’s chest hurt as he looked at you. 

“My tired girl,” he hummed, bringing his hand up to your cheek as you pushed him down on the exam chair. He sat if only to appease you, his feet still flat on the floor even with the tall seat.

“I’m only a little tired,” you weakly fought. Bucky chuckled in response, sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. “Now let me clean you up.” 

You snapped gloves onto your hands and Bucky fought back a petulant whine. If he had been any other member of the team, those gloves would have been on the second they walked in the door. He should be grateful, then, that you only put them on when it was time to tend to his wounds, but he wasn’t. He missed you too much to feel latex instead of your skin. 

Bucky’s lip stung as you cleaned it, but he hardly flinched. If he moved, he would miss the pretty way you bit into your lip as you stared at him. 

“Remember when I’d be in here all the time?” he asked when you turned back down to grab antibiotic cream. 

You let out a tired laugh. “How could I forget? You picked a fight every game. If that didn't work you’d come stumbling in here complaining about a torn ACL or whatever. Big liar.” 

“I wouldn’t call it lying.” 

The smile you gave him was replicated on his own face. 

“You were literally lying.” You dabbed the cream on his lip, and then moved to the cut on his cheek. “You would come limping in here and then I’d see you an hour later running out to the parking lot.” 

“You wouldn’t look at me if I wasn’t injured.” 

“It was my job, Bucky!” you laughed, eyes giving away your amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the players. I’m pretty sure Cho only lets us be together because you wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.” 

Bucky moved his hands from his thighs to your waist, tugging you closer as you worked. “Hey, sometimes drastic measures are needed.” 

“You called her multiple times a day… bought her an edible arrangement. Wait, didn’t you offer to drive her kids to school a few times?” 

“It worked, didn’t it,” he posed, nudging his nose against your cheek. You giggled, lightly slapping his arm to get away. 

“The edible arrangement was a good touch,” you relented. 

Bucky released you as you wiggled from his grip, flitting around the training room to put supplies back. He spotted your backpack in the corner of the room, unzipped with the water bottle tipping out. When you sat down at the computer to document his care, which he found a bit ridiculous (you only put a bandaid on his face), Bucky walked over and gathered your things. He did so slowly so you wouldn’t notice; you probably had plans to stay at the rink for another few hours, and that was not okay with him. 

With a final zip and your water bottle now standing upright, Bucky meandered over to your seated position. He hooked his chin over your shoulder as you worked, leaning over and tapping your phone screen for the time. His heart twisted warmly in his chest when he saw a picture of himself smiling under the 8:00 pm displayed on the homescreen. 

After all the pining and work it took to get you, Bucky often felt this wasn’t real. 

God, he loved you. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you whispered, clicking away at the computer. “I still have some charting to do. Peter hit his head yesterday and I have to do the follow up work.” 

Still in his uniform, Bucky wrapped you up from behind. Now you would both need a shower and he could get you to leave. He kissed the back of your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek as he craned his neck to watch you work. You smelled like fresh laundry and books and the subtle hint of your perfume.

“Parker’s fine. He was up and playing today. Let’s go home, baby,” Bucky murmured, most of his words spoken against your skin. 

“I know he’s okay. But head injuries are a completely different protocol and I have to—” 

“I miss you,” he reiterated. “And you’re working too hard. All the lights are off in the rink ‘cept for this one. Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.” 

“Why don’t you shower and change first? I’ll leave with you once you finish.” 

Bucky spun your stool around suddenly, one hand on your waist, the other reaching back to steady himself on the desk now at your back. “Oh no, don’t try to pull that on me. I get back in here, you’re gonna tell me you started something new you can only finish on the PT computer and you can’t leave for another hour. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You let out a quick sigh, caught. “Well, what about—” 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupted. He used his far hand to shut the facility computer and then guided you up. “You’re coming home with me. You’re gonna sit in the car while I drive you to my apartment and then we’re gonna take a shower together and I’m gonna make you feel so good you don’t even remember what a concussion is.” 

“Bucky,” you chastised, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

His laugh shook your head. “Still so damn shy.” He reached down to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of your neck, meeting your averted gaze. “Just me in here, baby.” 

“I know. But you don’t have to be so vulgar.” 

“Vulgar? Sweetheart, if you want vulgar I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you the second we—” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth, careful for the delicate skin there. Still, Bucky was sure you could feel his smile against your skin, and he fought back an even bigger one when he saw the embarrassed twist of your brow. 

Slowly, he pried your wrist down, kissing the palm of your hand on the way. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the slightest.

You pursed your lips, flustered. “You’re such an antagonizer.”

Bucky could do this every day and never grow tired of it. It had been months now and he found himself only wanting you more. 

“Can’t help it. I love you.”

Your faux annoyance morphed into a bashful smile, the kind Bucky remembered from his time faking injuries. It was reminiscent of when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes, or smile at his flirting, or give him any reaction he was looking for. 

But he always got what he wanted in the end. 

And, more than anything, he wanted you. 

“That one do the trick?” Bucky asked. “Am I finally getting my girl to come home with me?” 

When you looked up at him with raised brows and a smile twisted up at the corners, he knew you’d given up. Perfect timing, too, because—in all honesty—Bucky had been punched in the side during his on-ice tussle, and his ribs were starting to hurt. You were going to be pissed when you saw the bruise form tomorrow morning, but you would be pissed in his bed, so it was worth it to Bucky.

“I have to get a little bit of homework done when we get there,” you reasoned, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, dropping one down over your shoulders as you both walked out. “Okay, okay. Homework at my place, I got it.” 

“That comes first, Bucky. Before anything else. Shower, then homework, and then… other things.” 

“I know what first means, baby.” 

“Good.” 

But Bucky had other plans, and they did not involve homework. He was pretty sure you were ahead, anyways. Like, weeks ahead, actually. 

“You eat dinner yet?” he asked, fishing his keys from his pocket. 

You looked up at him, incredulous. “What did I just say?” 

“What?” he defended, tugging you closer as the wind in the parking lot whipped at your clothes. “I can’t make sure my girl’s had dinner? What am I allowed to do?”

You only scoffed, tucking yourself further into his side. “Keep me warm.” 

“Always, baby.” 

[world-of-aus]

Hot Shot

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: Bucky being a heartthrob.

A/N: I've been reading one to many hockey romances and well here we are scratching an itch. I know I would like to eventually come out with a bigger story for these two but for now this is just the start a taste if you will. I'd like to leave this open to suggestion of what y'all would like to see or know about these two if anything.. Hope you enjoy the first taste.

You barely had a chance to unlock your screen to reply to her message before her caller ID

was taking up your screen, a recent photo of her and Steve that she had made as her contact picture pulling a smile onto your lips.

“Tasha.” you answer.

“Y/n, listen I know you were just planning on watching the game from the comfort of your living room but I mean talk about an upgrade! From a television screen to being at the actual game on the floor behind the safety of the glass getting some wicked shots, and no one captures action shots like you do - I promise I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” she tacks on her voice pleading.

You chuckle, you know had the circumstances been different she’d be one of the first ones at the arena, she hadn’t missed one of Steve’s games yet, not since you had been signed on. “Natasha relax, you know you don’t have to pull out the stops on me, I'll go - do you want me to send you the photos?”

The redhead turned blonde breathes a heavy sigh of relief, “oh god thank you! and if you don’t mind, but take your time, I’m sure a certain bruin's player is going to be demanding your attention after the game especially if they bag a win.” she teases seemingly mentioning the man in your DM’s.

Your cheeks warm, the unread notification from the player she speaks of appearing in your mind, “please Tasha,” you deflect, “it’s the game of the season he’ll have plenty of attention with all the puck bunnies sporting his name on their jersey throwing themselves at him for an inkling of his attention.” you murmur picking at an invisible speck of lint on your sweater as you stand from the couch, intent on getting your things packed to head out.

“And yet he only seems to want yours,” she sings, “you should totally wear the jersey I got you for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes smile pulling at your lips, “is your flight really delayed, do I have to text Steve?”

Your friend laughs, “unfortunately it is and hey thank you again for this, I owe you, love you, oh and send me a picture of Steve, one of you and Bucky too!”

You shake your head as your friend rushes out her farewell your screen now gone black as you look down at it “looks like pjs are out of the question for tonight” you murmur continuing on through your apartment to grab your things Bucky’s text still sitting in your messages unanswered.

He’d have his answer soon enough.

🏒🖤

The cool of the arena’s backstage floor seeps through your jeans, your tripod sitting off to the side, your camera nestled in your hands as you wait for the first few players of the bruins to make their arrival.

Your camera goes up; the first of the team to come through the backdoors is the Bruins coach Fury, he spots you smile on his face his hand coming up in a greeting as you get your first arrival shot of the day. Slowly players begin to trickle in, most of them spot you posing for you as they stride by, others walk by with a simple wave their heads already in the game.

Speaking of head in the game center Steve Rogers makes his way in, his suit pressed, duffle thrown over his shoulder as he owns the floor. “Looking good Rogers, say you wouldn’t have Natasha tucked away in that duffle by chance?” you tease grinning behind your camera. You laugh at the grin that breaks his lips, a shake of his head as he directs his gaze at you, “can assure you Natasha wouldn’t be packed in my bag, she’d be hanging on my arm.” You coo at the bearded blonde, “you think you can say that again I didn’t have my phone out.”

The two of you laugh as you capture a few more shots, “Come on Rogers leave some love for the rest of us, you already have your face glued on billboards!”

Left defenseman Sam Wilson is striding in next million dollar smile painted on his lips like the suit he wears on his skin. “But no one has their face printed on as many shirts like you do Wilson, now give me something new to look out for will ya, want to make sure these etsy sellers get only the best!” Wilson eats your words up, feeding the fans through your film. He comes closer kneeling to your level to pull you in for a hug, “it’s good to see you hot shot, thought you weren’t coming out tonight with how Barnes was moping.”

Your heart beats like a wild drum in your chest, “Tasha’s flight got delayed, cashed in her IOU, so here I am and surely your version of Barnes moping is different from mine.”

“Oh man you should of seen him, had to smack the phone out of his hands with how often he was checking it, you’re gonna join us tonight after the win right?”

“You Bruins are so sure about that win,” you laugh.

“That’s because it’s in the bag, hot shot.” It takes everything in you not to snap your eyes to the broad shoulder right defenseman sauntering into the building. “Here comes your boy.” Sam chuckles patting your shoulder as you find said man with your camera lens. You wanted to eat him up like he was eating at your film.

Like Sam Bucky strolls till he’s standing above you, grin pulling at his pink lips as he offers you his hand. You set your camera down gently against your chest before taking his offer, warmth seeping though you at your hand wrapped in his. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.” He murmurs watching you.

“Well as enticing as staying in my pjs on my couch with a glass of wine watching the game tonight sounded IOUs are a serious thing to cash in.” you say struggling to keep his gaze, you were certain you’d turn into a puddle of goo soon.

“More enticing then upgrading your lock screen?”

You let out a groan reaching out to smack his chest, but his hand captures yours instead keeping it there a teasing smile playing at his lips. “You’re never going to let that go are you?” you question recalling the night at the bar that he discovered himself as your lock screen. To be fair it was one of your favorite shots you had captured at the beginning of the seasons. It didn’t hurt that he was your favorite Bruin player to follow on and off the ice.

“Never, though I’m hoping by the end of the night ill see a photo of me after the win.” He chuckles thumb running over your hand.

“You’d have to secure a win first Barnes.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you, “I’ve already won though.”

Your reply is caught on your tongue, Fury voice breaking through the haze, “Barnes you’ll have time to catch up with y/n later get your ass in the lockers now!”

Bucky let’s your hand falling, chuckle brewing in his chest as he steps back, “hope you’re not watching Wilson or Rogers to closely tonight hotshot because this wins for you, and I’m going to be the one bringing it home.”

You watch him walk away, his gaze lingering on you till he disappears through the locker room.

And God how you hoped he would.

[bratzkoo]

offside | seungcheol

Author: bratzkoo Pairing:  Hockey team player/captain! Seungcheol x Physical Therapist! reader Genre: fluff, chaos Rating: PG-13 Word count: 6.5k Warnings/note: i wrote this to start chaos. have fun reading!

summary: seungcheol's hockey teammates just wants a break from their captain's strictness with hockey practice and decides to force him to join a dating app.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

"Desperate Times Call For Desperate Teamates"

"We need to do something," Seungkwan declared dramatically, sliding down the practice room wall. "I can't feel my legs, and I swear I saw Dino's soul leave his body during that last drill."

The maknae in question was indeed face-down on the floor, only managing a weak thumbs up to confirm his continued existence.

"He's gotten worse," Jeonghan observed from his position on the bench, watching their leader through the glass as Seungcheol reviewed practice footage. Again. "Yesterday, I caught him making a spreadsheet comparing different practice intensities. He color-coded it."

"That's... normal?" Vernon tried optimistically.

"At 3 AM, Vernonie. 3 AM."

A collective groan echoed through the room.

"Did you know," Mingyu started, still catching his breath, "he named his new hockey stick? I heard him calling it 'Dedication' while cleaning it."

"Better than last week's 'Discipline'," Wonwoo muttered, not looking up from his phone where he was apparently documenting their captain's concerning behaviors.

Jun raised his hand like a student in class. "Question: is it normal that he's memorizing the ice rink's maintenance schedule? He knows when they resurface the ice better than the zamboni driver."

"The driver's married, by the way," DK added helpfully. "Even the penalty box has more romance than our captain."

Hoshi suddenly sat up straight, eyes wide with his trademark tiger enthusiasm. "THAT'S IT!"

"Indoor voice, please," Woozi grumbled, rubbing his temples. "Some of us are still recovering from this morning's 'voluntary' extra practice."

"No, no, listen!" Hoshi was now pacing, his energy seemingly restored. "What does our Coups-hyung need?"

"A life?" Minghao suggested.

"Sleep?" from Joshua.

"Therapy?" Wonwoo pushed up his glasses.

"A GIRLFRIEND!" Hoshi announced triumphantly.

The practice room fell silent. Twelve pairs of eyes shifted to look at their captain through the glass, who was now rewinding the same play for what must have been the twentieth time.

"That..." Jeonghan started slowly, a mischievous smile spreading across his face, "might be the first useful thing you've said all year, Hoshi-yah."

"Hey!"

"No, no, he's onto something," Joshua leaned forward, already pulling out his phone. "Remember when Seungcheol-hyung had that crush on the girl from the coffee shop last year?"

"Oh yeah," Dino suddenly revived from his floor position. "He actually left practice on time for like two weeks."

"Until he scared her away by talking about hockey stats," Seungkwan reminded them.

"That's why," Jeonghan stood up, commanding attention like the second eldest should, "we need a plan. A mission."

"A mission impossible," Vernon quipped.

"Exactly!" Jeonghan pointed at him. "We need to get our captain a girlfriend before he turns this team into an Olympic training camp."

Woozi raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

"Simple," Jeonghan's smile grew wider, more dangerous. "We form committees."

"Oh no," Joshua muttered, knowing that look.

"Oh YES," Seungkwan perked up, loving that look.

And thus, Operation "Mission Impossible: Get Seungcheol a Girlfriend Because We're Afraid He's Gonna Be More Strict With Practice Like Let Him Get a Life Pls Pls Pls" was born.

"We need a shorter name," Wonwoo noted, already typing it in his phone.

"M.I.G.S.A.G.B.W.A.H.G.B.M.S.W.P.L.H.G.A.L.P.P.P?" Vernon tried.

"Perfect," Jeonghan clapped his hands. "Now, for the committees. Hoshi, you're in charge of daily tiger horoscope readings-"

"That's not a thing," Woozi interjected.

"It is now. Joshua, you're documenting everything. Mingyu and Minghao, you're on style watch - make sure he doesn't wear hockey jerseys on dates."

"Bold of you to assume he owns other clothes," Mingyu muttered.

"Seungkwan, you're our drama department-"

"I was born ready!"

"Wonwoo, you're researching dating apps. Vernon and Jun, you're our social media experts. Dino... just try to survive practice for now."

"What about me?" DK raised his hand.

"You and Woozi are our emergency extraction team. If any date goes wrong, you pull him out with a fake emergency."

"Can the emergency be my dying leg muscles?" Dino asked from the floor.

"Speaking of," Jun suddenly pointed at the glass. "Incoming!"

They scattered like startled cats just as Seungcheol opened the door, looking suspiciously at his suddenly innocent-looking teammates.

"Break's over. Let's run that play again."

The collective internal screaming was audible.

"We start tonight," Jeonghan whispered as they lined up. "For our legs."

"For our legs," twelve voices whispered back.

-

6:00 PM - Team Lounge Preparation

"Places everyone!" Jeonghan's voice commanded through the earpieces he'd borrowed (stolen) from the broadcasting team. "Hoshi, status on the PowerPoint?"

"Forty-seven slides of pure tiger-themed conviction!" 

"It was supposed to be five slides," Woozi muttered, sitting at the piano he'd somehow smuggled in. "Also, why am I composing 'The Ballad of Single Seungcheol' again?"

"Emotional impact," Seungkwan explained, practicing his dramatic slides across the floor. "We need background music for my monologue about dying alone."

"No one's dying alone," Joshua sighed, reviewing his crisis management notebook:

- Plan A: Direct confrontation

- Plan B: Emotional manipulation

- Plan C: Vernon's interpretive dance

- Plan Z: Release the embarrassing photos

Meanwhile, Mingyu and Minghao were strategically placing furniture.

"The chair needs to be exactly 45 degrees under the spotlight," Minghao insisted.

"We don't have a spotlight," Mingyu pointed out.

"VERNON!"

"On it!" Vernon appeared with a desk lamp and determination.

At the same time - Y/N's Clinic Break Room

"You need to date," Krissa, Y/N's coworker, declared while stealing her lunch. "When was the last time you went out?"

"I go out!" Y/N protested, thinking about her weekly grocery runs.

"The old lady with the hip replacement asking you to dinner with her grandson doesn't count."

"Mrs. Kim is sweet..."

"She's also convinced her grandson is the next president. He collects rubber ducks, Y/N. Rubber. Ducks."

6:30 PM - The Ambush Begins

Seungcheol was having a good day. He'd organized new training menus (color-coded by intensity), named his newest hockey stick ("Perseverance"), and only spent three hours analyzing game footage.

The first sign something was wrong: the lounge lights were off.

The second sign: Mingyu trying (failing) to hide his 6'2" frame behind a plant.

"What-"

"HYUNG!" Seungkwan's voice echoed dramatically. "Do you know what day it is?"

"...Thursday?"

"IT'S YOUR INTERVENTION!"

The lights flashed on. Seungcheol found himself surrounded by his teammates, each wearing matching black hoodies with "Code Red: The Captain NEEDS a GIRLFRIEND" printed in glittering letters.

"Are those... rhinestones?"

"Focus!" Jeonghan stepped forward. "Seungcheol-ah, we need to talk about your relationship with hockey."

"My perfectly normal-"

"YOU TRIED TO INSTALL AN ICE RINK IN YOUR APARTMENT!" DK interrupted.

"It was a small one-"

"Exhibit A!" Hoshi clicked to his first slide, featuring a pie chart of Seungcheol's daily activities:

- 60% Hockey

- 30% Thinking about hockey

- 9% Basic human needs

- 1% Everything else

"That's... not accurate?"

"Exhibit B!" Another slide: a photo series titled 'The Evolution of Our Captain's Dating Life' showing:

- 2019: Attempted to explain offside rules on first date

- 2020: Brought hockey stick to coffee shop

- 2021: Asked team manager for practice schedules during blind date

- 2022: "Is being married to hockey valid?"

Meanwhile - Y/N's Evening Commute

"Just download the app," Krissa had insisted, practically forcing Y/N's thumb onto the install button. "Trust the algorithm!"

Now, squished between a businessman and a grandmother on the subway, Y/N found herself mindlessly scrolling through profiles.

Too posed. Too filtered. Too... is that guy posing with a fish?

Then she saw it.

'Cheol, 26'

The first photo was clearly candid - a genuine smile, caught mid-laugh. Someone had badly edited out what looked like hockey gear in the background, leaving obvious white spaces.

The second photo: attempting to look serious but his eyes gave away suppressed laughter. More suspicious white spaces around him.

The third: clearly taken without his knowledge, feeding a stray cat.

Bio: "Just a guy who likes ice sports and dad jokes. My friends made me download this. They're currently holding my training menus hostage. Send help."

Y/N found herself smiling. There was something refreshingly honest about him.

Back at the Ambush...

"And THAT'S why penguins mate for life!" Hoshi concluded slide thirty-seven.

"What do penguins have to do with-" Seungcheol started.

"EVERYTHING!" Seungkwan was now lying dramatically across the floor. "Even flightless birds find love, hyung!"

"Woozi-hyung, music!" DK cued.

The opening notes of 'The Ballad of Single Seungcheol' filled the room, accompanied by Vernon's unexpected contemporary dance.

"When did he learn-" Seungcheol tried again.

"STOP DEFLECTING!" Jeonghan commanded. "Mingyu, the phone!"

"For our legs!" Mingyu declared, executing a perfect phone-grabbing maneuver.

"YAH!"

"Jun, Minghao, initiate synchronized intervention dance!"

"We have a dance?!" Minghao looked panicked.

"Improvise!"

- After 15 minutes of improvised dance, they managed to make Seungcheol agree in making a dating app profile: "Bio first," Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, phone in hand. "Interests?"

"Hockey!" Seungcheol offered from his chair, where he was being guarded by Mingyu and Jun.

"NO!" Eleven voices shouted.

"Put 'enjoys sports'," Joshua suggested diplomatically.

"And dad jokes," Jeonghan added. "He needs to warn them early."

"What about: 'Looking for someone to share ice cream with'?" Vernon suggested.

"That's... actually cute?" Woozi sounded surprised.

"Add 'good with kids'!" Hoshi insisted.

"I've never-"

"YOU LITERALLY TUCK US IN AFTER PRACTICE!" Seungkwan interrupted.

Photo Selection Committee:

"No hockey photos," Mingyu declared, scrolling through Seungcheol's gallery.

"That's 98% of my photos-"

"We know," Minghao sighed. "That's the problem."

"Oh! This one!" Dino pointed. "From team dinner!"

"Too many hockey players in frame," Joshua vetoed.

"We could edit them out?" Jun suggested.

"NO-" Seungcheol started.

"Wonwoo, your Photoshop skills!" Jeonghan commanded.

"On it."

"Is that... why is there a white blob where Mingyu was standing?"

"Artistic choice," Wonwoo muttered, concentrated.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"You're overthinking," Krissa's voice came through the phone as Y/N stared at Cheol's profile.

"His friends clearly made this profile-"

"That's cute! It means he's not a player."

"But what if-"

"Y/N, I swear, if you don't swipe right-"

"His smile seems genuine..."

"SWIPE. RIGHT. NOW."

Back at the Ambush:

"And done!" Wonwoo announced. "Profile complete."

Seungcheol looked horrified at the final result:

Photos:

Team dinner (now with mysterious white blobs)

Feeding cat (only half-edited hockey stick visible)

Candid laugh (suspiciously cropped)

Bio: "Just a guy who enjoys sports, dad jokes, and ice cream. Good with kids (and teammates). My friends made me download this. They're currently holding my training menus hostage. Send help."

"It's... honest?" Joshua offered.

"Too honest," Seungcheol groaned.

"Now we wait-" Jeonghan started.

ping

Thirteen heads snapped toward the phone.

"Is that..." Dino peered closer.

"A MATCH!" Seungkwan actually collapsed.

"Someone check if he's breathing," Woozi muttered.

Y/N's profile lit up the screen.

Seungcheol felt his ears turn red as he read:

"Physical therapist who loves dogs, rainy days, and helping people recover. Looking for something genuine. Probably swiping through this while drinking coffee."

Her smile was warm, natural. No filters, no posed shots. Just... real.

"She's perfect!" Hoshi declared. "The stars-"

"If you say the stars align one more time-" Woozi threatened.

"But they do!"

"Quick, say something!" Mingyu urged.

"I can do this myself-"

"The last time you messaged someone, you sent hockey statistics," Jun reminded him.

"One time!"

"Three times," Joshua corrected, consulting his notes. "Four if we count the referee explanation."

Seungcheol looked at Y/N's profile again. Something about her eyes seemed kind, understanding. Before his teammates could interfere, he typed:

"Since you're a physical therapist, any advice for teammates who dramatically fall during interventions?"

Across Seoul, Y/N was curled up on her couch when the message came through. She laughed out loud, typing back:

"Depends. Was it a planned fall or genuine distress? In my professional opinion, dramatic interventions require proper falling technique."

In the team lounge:

"She has humor!" Seungkwan had revived just to faint again.

"And medical knowledge for your old joints!" Dino dodged another flying pillow.

"Mission status?" Jeonghan asked formally.

"Phase one..." Joshua consulted his notebook, "surprisingly successful?"

"Now what?" Vernon asked.

"Now," Jeonghan smiled mysteriously, "we begin Phase Two: Operation First Date."

"We have a Phase Two?" Woozi looked concerned.

"We have phases up to Z," Joshua showed his notebook.

"God help us all," Seungcheol muttered, but he was smiling at his phone.

Little did Y/N know that her simple right swipe had initiated not just a potential romance, but had inadvertently involved her in the chaos of thirteen hockey players' most ambitious mission yet.

And somewhere in the lounge, Hoshi was already preparing his "Why Tigers Make Great Wedding Mascots" presentation.

-

“How To Text While Twelve People Read Over Your Shoulder"

Team Lounge - 10 Minutes Post-Match

"Don't just stare at her message," Mingyu urged, practically draped over Seungcheol's shoulder.

"I'm thinking-"

"That's your problem!" Seungkwan had recovered enough to offer wisdom. "Less thinking, more heart!"

Seungcheol typed: "My teammate's falls are an art form. Years of practice-"

"NO SPORTS REFERENCES!" Twelve voices yelled.

Delete, delete, delete.

"Just be yourself," Joshua advised.

"But not too much yourself," Jeonghan added.

"What does that even mean?" Seungcheol groaned.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"He's taking a while to respond," Y/N muttered, watching the typing bubble appear and disappear.

"Maybe he's nervous?" Krissa suggested through the phone.

"Or composing poetry," Y/N joked.

"Or being attacked by friends," Krissa laughed.

If only she knew.

Back at the Lounge:

"Okay, how about..." Seungcheol tried again.

"You have to match her energy!" Hoshi was now doing his tiger-energy dance.

"Stop pressuring him," Wonwoo adjusted his glasses. "Statistically, overthinking first messages leads to-"

"No statistics!" Jun covered his ears.

Finally, Seungcheol managed to type:

"Would you believe me if I said one teammate has a dedicated falling technique for every emotional situation? We're currently at 'betrayed by captain who won't date' level dramatics."

Send.

"OH MY GOD HE SENT IT-" Seungkwan started hyperventilating.

"Quick, everyone act natural!" DK suggested, immediately striking the most unnatural pose possible.

Y/N's response came quickly:

"😂 As a professional, I'd love to analyze these techniques. For medical purposes, of course. Does he take appointments?"

The lounge erupted:

"She's funny!" from Vernon.

"She used an emoji!" Dino noted.

"Medical purposes," Woozi smirked.

"RESPOND FASTER!" Mingyu shook Seungcheol.

Meanwhile, in another corner, Operation Phase Two was already underway:

"Gather round," Jeonghan whispered to his secret subcommittee. "We need to prepare for every possible first date scenario."

Joshua pulled out a new notebook labeled "First Date Contingency Plans A-Z":

Plan A: Coffee Shop

- Pros: Casual, easy escape

- Cons: Might talk about hockey

- Solution: Remove all sports channels from café TVs

Plan B: Dog Café

- Pros: Cute animals, natural conversation

- Cons: Seungcheol might be allergic

- Note: Test for allergies immediately

Plan C: Restaurant

- Pros: Traditional, romantic

- Cons: Too much pressure

- Solution: Have team occupy all surrounding tables

"Should we include Plan T for Tiger Zoo?" Hoshi asked hopefully.

"No."

Back to the main conversation:

Seungcheol: "He's currently booked solid with interventions, but I hear he's willing to demonstrate for medical professionals 😊"

Y/N: "How generous! Though I should warn you, my professional opinion might include prescribing more social interactions for certain hockey-focused captains 😉"

The lounge went silent.

"Did she just..." Vernon started.

"She figured out..." Mingyu gasped.

"A WOMAN OF INTELLIGENCE!" Seungkwan declared.

Seungcheol felt his ears redden but found himself smiling as he typed:

"Caught me. Though in my defense, my team's intervention included a PowerPoint about why penguins finding love means I should too."

Y/N's Apartment:

She was grinning at her phone, ignoring Krissa's demands for updates. There was something endearing about this clearly hockey-obsessed captain and his concerned teammates.

Y/N: "Penguins are quite romantic. Though I hope your team knows humans have slightly different courtship rituals. Slightly."

Team Lounge:

"Is this... flirting?" Dino whispered in awe.

"Taking notes," Joshua muttered, scribbling furiously.

"We should give them space," Woozi suggested sensibly.

Nobody moved.

"I meant that as a command," Woozi glared.

Still nobody moved.

Seungcheol, somehow managing to type despite twelve people breathing down his neck:

"Would you be interested in discussing these human courtship rituals over coffee? I promise no PowerPoints. Can't guarantee no dramatic teammates though."

The lounge held its breath.

Y/N: "I'd like that! Fair warning though - I might assess your teammate's falling technique from afar. Professional curiosity 😊"

"SHE SAID YES!" 

Chaos erupted:

- Seungkwan fainted (again)

- Hoshi began his victory tiger dance

- Vernon started his congratulatory rap

- Woozi contemplated early retirement

- Jeonghan's eyes gleamed with Phase Two possibilities

"Operation First Date begins now," Joshua announced formally.

"Can I just plan my own date?" Seungcheol tried.

The look of pity he received from twelve pairs of eyes was answer enough.

- "Operation First Date (Or Twelve Ways to Overcomplicate Coffee)"

The Pre-Date Strategy Meeting - 3 Days Before

"ATTENTION!" Jeonghan stood at a whiteboard, pointer in hand. The team lounge had been transformed into a tactical command center, complete with:

- Floor plans of every coffee shop in a 5-mile radius

- Weather forecasts for the next week

- A mysterious PowerPoint titled "Tiger Luck in Romance"

- Seungkwan's "Emergency Scenarios" binder

- Joshua's "Date Exit Strategies A-Z"

Seungcheol sat in the corner, wondering where it all went wrong.

"First," Jeonghan began, "location analysis."

Wonwoo stepped forward, pushing up his glasses:

"I've compiled data on 47 potential coffee shops based on:

- Ambient lighting

- Background music volume

- Table spacing for optimal conversation

- Distance from hockey-related establishments

- Escape route availability"

"It's just coffee," Seungcheol muttered.

"JUST COFFEE?!" Seungkwan clutched his chest. "This is your FUTURE!"

"Moving on," Jeonghan continued. "Mingyu, wardrobe report."

Mingyu unveiled a clothing rack that definitely wasn't in the lounge this morning.

"I've prepared three categories:

1. 'Casual but Make It Romantic'

2. 'Yes I'm a Hockey Captain but I Read Books Too'

3. 'Trust Me I Have Other Hobbies'"

"Are those my clothes?" Seungcheol squinted.

"No, these are better," Minghao replied, sorting through fabrics. "Your clothes all say 'I sleep in hockey gear.'"

Meanwhile - Y/N's Preparation

"Just wear something comfortable," Krissa suggested, watching Y/N tear through her closet.

"But what kind of comfortable? Coffee comfortable? First date comfortable? Meeting-a-hockey-captain comfortable?"

"Is that last one a category?"

"I'm making it one!"

Back at Strategy HQ:

"Conversation topics!" Joshua read from his notebook.

DK raised his hand. "What about-"

"No hockey," everyone chorused.

"But-"

"NO. HOCKEY."

Hoshi bounced up. "The stars say-"

"No horoscopes," Woozi interrupted.

"But the tigers-"

"Especially no tiger horoscopes."

Vernon, surprisingly practical: "Why don't you just... talk normally?"

The room fell silent. Everyone looked at Vernon like he'd suggested playing hockey blindfolded.

"Talk... normally?" Jeonghan tested the words.

"Like... without a script?" Jun looked concerned.

"Absolutely not," Seungkwan declared. "We need contingency plans!"

The Emergency Scenarios Binder appeared:

- Scenario 1: Awkward Silence

  Solution: Pre-planted conversation cards under sugar packets

- Scenario 2: Hockey Mention

  Solution: DK's emergency dance distraction

- Scenario 3: Rain

  Solution: Strategic umbrella placement by Jun

- Scenario 4: She Recognizes Surveillance Team

  Solution: Mingyu's "We're Filming a Documentary" cover story

"Surveillance team?!" Seungcheol stood up.

"Sit down," Jeonghan commanded. "We're not done with the scenarios."

"There's more?!"

"There's always more," Joshua said ominously, flipping to his notebook's section labeled 'Crisis Management'.

Dino raised his hand. "What about our positions?"

"Ah yes," Jeonghan pulled down a blueprint. "Operation Coffee Shop Placement":

- Wonwoo & Mingyu: Window seats, pretending to study

- Joshua & Jeonghan: Counter, monitoring drink orders

- Seungkwan & Vernon: Outside café, "casual" pedestrians

- Jun & Minghao: Corner table, fake art students

- Hoshi: Emergency tiger energy provider

- Woozi: Getaway driver

- DK & Dino: Backup dancers if needed

"Getaway driver?!" Seungcheol looked alarmed.

"You never know," Woozi shrugged.

"And I'll be monitoring everyone's positions through these," Hoshi proudly held up twelve earpieces.

"Absolutely not," Seungcheol stood again.

"You're right," Jeonghan nodded. "We need color-coded earpieces."

The Day Before - Final Preparations:

Text from Y/N: "Looking forward to tomorrow! Any preference for which café?"

The team lounge exploded into action:

- Wonwoo consulting his café spreadsheets

- Mingyu checking lighting angles

- Joshua reviewing escape routes

- Seungkwan practicing his "casual pedestrian" walk

- Hoshi doing good luck tiger dances

Seungcheol, somehow maintaining sanity: "How about Stone Street Café at 2?"

"THAT WASN'T ON THE APPROVED LIST!" Seungkwan screeched.

"Perfect timing and place!" Y/N replied.

"She's perfect," Hoshi whispered. "The tigers were right."

"The tigers weren't-" Woozi started, then gave up.

"Tomorrow then," Jeonghan announced dramatically, "Operation First Date begins."

"Can't wait! 😊" Y/N texted, blissfully unaware of the twelve-man tactical team she'd inadvertently invited to coffee.

- "Operation First Date (Or How Twelve Hockey Players Became Drama Addicts)"

D-Day: Stone Street Café

1:30 PM - Initial Positions

"Everyone remember their roles?" Jeonghan whispered into the earpiece.

"We could just... not do this," Woozi suggested from the getaway car.

"COMMITMENT!" Seungkwan adjusted his "casual pedestrian" beret.

1:45 PM - Target Sighting

"Eagle has landed," Vernon reported, watching Seungcheol approach. "He's... wait."

"Report!" Jeonghan demanded.

"He looks... good?"

Everyone peered through various windows and hiding spots. Their captain had somehow:

- Styled his hair naturally

- Worn the outfit they approved

- Arrived early

- Wasn't carrying any hockey equipment

"Did we enter an alternate universe?" Minghao whispered.

1:55 PM - Second Target

"Y/N approaching from the east," Mingyu reported from his "study" table. "She's..."

"She's?" Eleven voices asked.

"Wow."

Y/N walked up to the café, a simple sundress and genuine smile making their captain visibly malfunction.

"Oh no, he's frozen," Jun panicked.

"Deploy emergency-" Seungkwan started.

But then...

2:00 PM - The Shift

Seungcheol smiled - not his camera smile, not his captain smile, but something softer. He opened the door for her, and...

"Did you see that?" Joshua whispered.

"The way they both laughed at the same time?" Jeonghan was already invested.

"Shhh!" Dino hushed. "We can't hear!"

Inside the café:

"I honestly wasn't sure if you'd come alone," Y/N grinned, settling into her seat.

"What makes you think I did?" Seungcheol raised an eyebrow.

Y/N casually glanced around, spotting:

- Two very tall men aggressively pretending to study

- A pair of "art students" who hadn't touched their sketchbooks

- A beret-wearing individual walking past the window for the fifth time

"Just a hunch," she smiled.

In various hiding spots:

"She knows!" Vernon whispered.

"But she's not running," Wonwoo observed.

"Guys," Mingyu suddenly said, "look."

They watched as Seungcheol and Y/N fell into easy conversation. No emergency cards needed. No tiger horoscopes required. Just... natural.

2:30 PM - The Evolution

"Should we deploy conversation starter #7?" Seungkwan asked.

"Wait..." Jeonghan held up his hand, watching.

Inside:

"So," Y/N leaned forward, "tell me about hockey."

Twelve hearts stopped.

But instead of launching into statistics, Seungcheol said, "Only if you tell me about what made you choose physical therapy."

She lit up, and suddenly they were sharing stories, laughing, completely lost in their own world.

The Surveillance Team:

"Are we... watching a drama?" DK whispered.

"Quick, someone film this!" Hoshi was emotional.

"Already on it," Joshua had his phone out.

3:00 PM - The Realization

One by one, the earpieces went silent. The elaborate plans forgotten. Twelve hockey players found themselves completely invested in watching their captain just... be happy.

"They're perfect together," Seungkwan sniffled.

"The way she makes him laugh..." Dino observed.

"The way he actually listens..." Mingyu added.

"No one mention hockey once..." Woozi noted, now inside with popcorn(?).

4:00 PM - Mission Evolution

As Seungcheol and Y/N prepared to leave, plans for a second date already made, the team had completely abandoned their positions in favor of:

- Seungkwan and DK writing a musical about them

- Hoshi planning their wedding

- Joshua documenting everything for future generations

- Jeonghan already plotting "Operation Second Date"

- Mingyu and Vernon designing couple merchandise

- Minghao and Jun choreographing a congratulatory dance

- Wonwoo calculating their compatibility (98.7%)

- Dino learning wedding songs

- Woozi pretending he wasn't composing a love song

Outside the Café:

"Your friends are really invested," Y/N commented, watching various heads duck behind plants.

"I'm sorry about them," Seungcheol rubbed his neck.

"Don't be. It's sweet. Though..." she grinned, "they might want to work on their stealth skills. I don't think art students usually cry over other people's coffee dates."

They both looked at Seungkwan, who was openly weeping into his beret.

"Second date?" Seungcheol asked hopefully.

"Definitely. Maybe somewhere with less... audience?"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" came a chorus of whispers from various plants.

Later - Team Lounge:

"Mission status?" Jeonghan asked formally.

"Complete success," Joshua reported, still emotional.

"Better than success," Seungkwan declared. "It's true love!"

"It's one date," Woozi reminded them.

"But did you see how they LOOKED at each other?!" Hoshi was already preparing his "Why Tigers Make Perfect Ring Bearers" presentation.

"So..." Vernon asked what everyone was thinking, "Operation Second Date?"

Seungcheol, walking in: "No."

"But-"

"Absolutely not."

"We'll be subtle!" Mingyu promised.

"You cried into a textbook."

"Those were subtle tears!"

Y/N's Apartment:

"How was it?" Krissa demanded.

Y/N smiled, thinking of gentle eyes and genuine laughs, of twelve not-so-hidden supporters and one perfect afternoon.

"It was... unexpected. In the best way."

Her phone buzzed:

Seungcheol: "I apologize for my team. They're... enthusiastic."

Y/N: "They care about you. It's cute. Though I did wonder why one kept making tiger poses."

Seungcheol: "That's just Hoshi. Wait until you meet him properly."

Y/N: "Looking forward to it 😊"

Team Lounge:

"She said she's looking forward to meeting us!" Seungkwan announced to the group chat.

"FAMILY DINNER!" twelve voices decided.

"No," Seungcheol texted back.

"Too late," Jeonghan was already planning.

"Operation Family Dinner begins now!" Joshua declared.

"We're not calling it-" Woozi started.

"OPERATION FAMILY DINNER!" everyone chorused.

Seungcheol sighed, but he was smiling. Maybe their chaos had led to something perfect after all.

-

"The One Where Someone Actually Likes Hockey (And Him)"

Operation Family Dinner Prep - Team Lounge

"Ground rules," Jeonghan addressed the team. "No embarrassing stories-"

"There goes my PowerPoint," Seungkwan sighed.

"No tiger facts-"

"But-" Hoshi started.

"NO tiger facts, and absolutely no-"

"MISSION ACCOMPLISHED BANNER!" Mingyu and Vernon burst in, proudly displaying a giant banner reading "THANK YOU FOR LIKING OUR CAPTAIN"

"Take it down," Seungcheol groaned.

"But we used glitter!" Vernon protested.

Meanwhile - Y/N's Apartment

"Twelve hockey players," Krissa repeated. "You're having dinner with twelve hockey players."

"Plus Seungcheol," Y/N added, trying on her fifth outfit.

"The same twelve who stalked your coffee date?"

"They weren't stalking! They were... enthusiastically supporting."

The Dinner - 7 PM

Y/N arrived at the team's favorite restaurant to find:

- The banner (they didn't take it down)

- Seungkwan practicing his welcome speech

- Hoshi's "subtle" tiger decorations

- Twelve very excited hockey players

- One very apologetic Seungcheol

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "We can leave-"

"Are you kidding? This is adorable!"

The team collectively melted.

Dinner was in full swing when Seungcheol started explaining a particularly complex play. The twelve teammates watched in fascination, each processing this unprecedented scene differently:

Jeonghan's Corner: "I've seen him scare away five dates with hockey talk," he whispered to Joshua. "Six," Joshua corrected, still filming. "Remember the coffee shop girl who ran away during his penalty explanation?" "But look at Y/N..." They watched as she drew actual play diagrams on napkins. "Are we sure she's real?"

Hoshi & DK's Observation: "The way she gets excited when he gets excited," DK clutched his chest. "It's like watching a drama!" Hoshi wiped a tear. "Better than your tiger documentaries?" "Nothing's better than- OH MY GOD SHE JUST ASKED ABOUT GAME STRATEGIES!"

Mingyu to Wonwoo: "Remember when he tried explaining hockey to my sister?" "She blocked his number," Wonwoo nodded. "But Y/N just asked him to explain MORE." "Statistically impossible but... happening right in front of us."

Minghao noticed something: "Look at his hands," he whispered to Jun. "What about them?" "They're not doing the nervous thing. He's just... comfortable." Jun sniffled: "Our captain's growing up!"

Woozi's Mental Notes:

First date to survive hockey talk ✓

Actually understands offside rules ✓

Makes Seungcheol laugh naturally ✓

Might need to compose a love song after all

Seungkwan's Live Commentary to Vernon: "Did you see that? She just made a hockey joke!" "And he actually laughed-" "NOT THE POLITE LAUGH, VERNON. THE REAL ONE!" "Should you be taking notes this intensely?" "This is historical documentation!"

Dino, watching it all unfold: "Hyung looks... different." "Happy," everyone replied simultaneously.

The turning point came when Y/N casually mentioned:

"Oh, that reminds me of your game last month - the one where you adjusted the defensive formation mid-play? That was brilliant."

Seungcheol froze mid-explanation. "You... watched our old games?"

Y/N blushed slightly. "I might have done some research? I wanted to understand what you love about it. Plus," she grinned, "watching you lead your team is pretty attractive."

Several things happened at once:

Seungkwan choked on air

Jeonghan dropped his phone

Joshua caught it without looking (still filming)

Hoshi started doing tiny victory tiger paws

Mingyu and Minghao high-fived

Wonwoo's glasses fogged up

DK clutched Jun in emotional support

Vernon patted a crying Seungkwan

Woozi pretended he wasn't writing lyrics

Dino watched his hyungs lose their collective minds

But most importantly: Seungcheol looked at Y/N like she had just scored the winning goal in the championship game.

Later, during dessert:

"I have a confession," Y/N admitted to the table. "I might have noticed you all at the coffee shop."

"We were subtle!" Seungkwan protested.

"You cried into a plant."

"Those were subtle tears!"

"And the one doing tiger poses by the window..."

"That was for good luck!" Hoshi defended.

"And the two tall ones pretending to study..."

Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

"...was actually really sweet. He's lucky to have people who care so much."

The team melted all over again.

"She understands us too," Jeonghan whispered reverently.

"ONE OF US!" Seungkwan declared.

"We're keeping her," Hoshi announced.

"That's not how it works-" Woozi started.

"Too late! Already adopted!" DK confirmed.

Y/N laughed, fitting perfectly into their chaos while her hand found Seungcheol's under the table.

Later that night, Team Group Chat (Minus Seungcheol):

Seungkwan: EMERGENCY MEETING Joshua: It's midnight Seungkwan: LOVE DOESN'T SLEEP Jeonghan: Operation Wedding Planning begins Woozi: It's been ONE dinner Hoshi: BUT DID YOU SEE THEM?! Mingyu: They're perfect 🥺 Vernon: The way she understood hockey... DK: The way he smiled... Jun: The way they looked at each other... Minghao: The way they just fit... Dino: So... Operation Wedding Planning? Wonwoo: sends spreadsheet 

Meanwhile, Seungcheol walking Y/N home:

"I'm sorry about them," he started.

"Don't be. They're wonderful. Chaotic, but wonderful."

"Like a hurricane of love," he laughed.

"With a tiger twist," she added.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and thought maybe his team's crazy plans weren't so crazy after all.

- Something was definitely different about their captain. The first signs were subtle - arriving five minutes late to practice (unheard of), constant phone checking (suspicious), and most alarmingly, humming while setting up drills (miraculous). The team huddled at the corner of the rink, watching Seungcheol with a mixture of awe and disbelief as he smiled at his phone for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"I think we broke him," Seungkwan whispered, clutching Vernon's arm. "Our plan worked too well."

Two months into dating Y/N, and their strict, hockey-obsessed captain had transformed into someone who said things like "the ice understands love" with complete seriousness. The man who once made them repeat a play 47 times now ended practice early because "the lighting at the coffee shop is perfect at 4 PM."

The real shock came during their morning practice. Seungcheol, still typing on his phone with a soft smile, casually announced, "No Sunday practice this week." The rink fell silent. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at their captain as if he'd just declared he was quitting hockey to become a tiger trainer (much to Hoshi's disappointment, he wasn't).

"Why?" Jeonghan dared to ask, though they all knew the answer. Their captain's ears turned that telling shade of red as he mumbled something about Y/N planning something special.

"WHIPPED!" Seungkwan coughed not-so-subtly, earning a half-hearted glare from their leader. The fact that he didn't assign extra laps for the comment only proved the point.

Meanwhile, across town at the physical therapy clinic, Y/N was having a similar effect on her workplace. Her colleagues had grown used to her sudden laughs at hockey memes ("He explains the rules so passionately!"), her lunch breaks extending whenever a certain captain dropped by ("Just five more minutes, he's explaining a new play"), and the way she lit up every time her phone buzzed.

"You actually enjoy his hockey talks," Krissa observed with amazement during their break. "Like, genuinely enjoy them."

Y/N smiled, remembering how Seungcheol's eyes sparkled when she asked about his game strategies. "He's cute when he's excited about it. Besides," she added, checking her phone where Seungcheol had sent a detailed analysis of their morning practice, complete with heart emojis, "his passion is attractive."

Back at the rink, the team was experiencing the full effects of their captain's transformation. Team meetings that once ran for hours now ended with "Any questions? No? Great, I have a date." Their notorious extended cool-downs had shortened considerably because "Y/N found this great lunch spot."

"Remember when he made us sleep at the rink before big games?" Jun whispered to Minghao during water break, watching their captain practically skip while texting.

"Now he leaves early because 'Y/N might get cold waiting,'" Minghao mimicked, though his smile was fond.

The team often found themselves "accidentally" having lunch near Y/N's clinic, watching their captain transform from fierce hockey leader to soft boyfriend in seconds. He'd arrive with her favorite coffee and snacks, his whole demeanor changing at the sight of her smile.

"It's actually kind of beautiful," Seungkwan sniffled, watching through the café window as Seungcheol forgot about his beloved hockey for a full minute, just staring at Y/N like she hung the stars.

"Disgusting," Woozi corrected, but he was already composing what he'd never admit was a love song.

"Remember our mission?" Jeonghan mused, watching their captain laugh at something Y/N said. "Get Seungcheol a girlfriend because we're afraid he's gonna be more strict with practice?"

"Mission accomplished?" Joshua suggested, still filming everything for their future wedding video.

"Better than accomplished," Mingyu grinned, pointing at their captain who was now excitedly explaining a play with sugar packets while Y/N watched with genuine interest. "We got him a girlfriend who actually likes hockey."

"And him," Vernon added importantly.

"The tigers blessed us," Hoshi declared solemnly.

For once, no one argued with the tiger agenda. They were too busy watching their captain being happy, finally having found someone who loved both his passion and him, hockey statistics and all.

- It became their thing - late evening walks after his practice and her clinic hours, usually ending up at the quiet café near the rink. Tonight, Seungcheol watched as Y/N drew little stick figures on a napkin, seriously explaining how his last play could be modified. The café owner, used to their presence, had long stopped asking if they wanted refills, just quietly placing fresh cups of coffee at their table.

"See, if you shift this position slightly," Y/N pointed with her pen, completely focused, "it might give you better coverage on the left side." She looked up to find him staring at her with that soft expression he seemed to reserve just for these moments. "What?"

"Nothing," he smiled, reaching across to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just... do you know you scrunch your nose when you're really focused on explaining something?"

"Says the one who gets excited sparkles in his eyes when talking about new practice drills," she teased back, catching his hand and intertwining their fingers.

These quiet moments were theirs, away from twelve enthusiastic supporters (who they both knew were probably somewhere nearby, with Seungkwan likely crying into Joshua's shoulder about 'true love'). Here, they could just be Seungcheol and Y/N - not the hockey captain and the physical therapist, just two people who found each other through a chaotic intervention and some badly edited dating app photos.

"I never thanked them properly," Y/N mused, playing with his fingers.

"The team? Pretty sure they consider you letting Hoshi explain tiger love compatibility at dinner last week as thanks enough."

She laughed, remembering how seriously Hoshi had presented his PowerPoint while the others tried (failed) to stop him. "Not just for that. For caring about you enough to stage that whole intervention. For being so invested in your happiness that they turned into part-time spies."

"Terrible spies," Seungcheol corrected, thinking of Mingyu's failed attempts at stealth despite his height, and Seungkwan's dramatic crying behind plants. "But yeah, they're... special."

"Your family," she smiled softly.

"Our family now," he corrected, then blushed at his own boldness. "I mean, if you want- they've kind of already adopted you- but no pressure-"

She stopped his rambling with a gentle squeeze of his hand. "I'd love that. Though I should warn you, I might enable your hockey obsession more than they'd like."

"You mean you'll actually listen to my game analysis?"

"I already do that."

"And watch practice sometimes?"

"Already planning to."

"And not run away when I name my hockey sticks?"

"As long as you don't name them all after me," she teased.

His ears turned red. "About that..."

"Cheol! How many?"

"Just the new one! And maybe the backup one. And possibly the special game day one..."

Her laughter filled the café, and Seungcheol thought about how perfectly she fit into his life - into their lives. How she understood not just his passion for hockey, but also his need to take care of twelve chaotic teammates. How she'd become part of their family so naturally, like she was always meant to be there.

"Hey," he said softly, making her look up from where she was still drawing play diagrams. "I love you."

It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it still made her heart skip just like it did that first time (when he blurted it out after she attended his game and actually understood why a particular play was brilliant).

"I love you too," she smiled, "hockey obsession and all."

"And the twelve-man emotional support team that comes with it?"

"Especially them. Though..." she glanced at the window where several suspicious plants seemed to have gathered, "they might need some work on their stealth skills."

Outside, they could faintly hear Seungkwan's emotional "They're so perfect!" followed by multiple shushes and what sounded like Woozi dragging him away.

Seungcheol just smiled, squeezing her hand. Let them watch. Let them see that sometimes the craziest plans work out perfectly. Let them witness that yes, someone could love both hockey and him, statistics and all.

And if their next date happened to be watching game footage while Y/N pointed out defensive patterns and Seungcheol fell more in love with every observation, well... that was just their kind of perfect.

[In the group chat later that night] Seungkwan: THEY'RE SO IN LOVE 😭 Jeonghan: Mission Accomplished ✓ Hoshi: The tigers blessed this union 🐯 Woozi: Stop watching them on dates Joshua: But the wedding video... DK: They're literally perfect??? Mingyu: Hyung named THREE sticks after her Vernon: Whipped culture Jun: Worth all the spy training Minghao: We did that Wonwoo: Statistically impossible but real Dino: So... Mission Possible: Wedding? All: MISSION POSSIBLE: WEDDING!

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[linskywords]

2024 HRPF recs

As has become my wont, I spent the last few weeks trying to catch up on some of the new fics in the hockey RPF tag that I missed over the course of the year. I definitely didn't get to everything, or even all of the most popular ones; there may also be a bias towards shorter fics here, as I was trying to get through a lot. 😅 But I hope you enjoy, and possibly find a gem or two that you missed!

First, some general favorites:

Scoring Effects by @helenish (McDrai, 30K): Ah, Helenish. A goddess among us. I love a good mistaken identity story, and this is a GREAT mistaken identity story.

barons by dilangley (MattDrai, 43K): Future fic in which Houston gets its own expansion team, Matthew coaches it, and Leon and Trevor Zegras play on it. Gorgeously done. The Trevor POV section broke me a bit, but it was worth it.

Living Things by @makeit-takeit (TK/Patty, 115K so far): I am so deeply invested in this series. It's very real and vivid-feeling future fic that does an amazingly thoughtful job exploring the NHL wife-and-kids pipeline and what happens when that doesn't fit you as well as you thought it would. The stories that are written so far feel nicely complete, but if you'd rather hold out for the full HEA, you can check out her Wild Ice for a different highlight from the past year.

put the stars in our eyes by @notthequiettype (McDrai, 17K): the McWedding story that I wish I had written. I thought it was going to destroy me, and instead it left me all warm and fuzzy.

Lost and Found by angry_geno_is_score (MattDrai, 2K): angry_geno_is_score had so much to choose from this year, as always, and I loved this as a microcosm of the hurt/comfort they do so well. If you like it, you know where to find more from them!

Next, we move to the irresistible new Sharks babies. I'm not sure I can oversell how hot these three stories managed to be:

come on (leave me breathless) by countthestars @moondoggiestyle (Will/Mack, 10K): I've already talked about how much I loved this one. There can never be too many stories of one player catching the other getting off in the shower, especially if they're as hot as this.

revising the shoreline by ohyellowbird @teex (Will/Mack, 6K): another super well done exploring-their-sexuality-while-not-talking-about-it story, aka my kryptonite.

teamwork makes the dreamwork by canary @bigdogenergy (Will/Mack and Will/Mack/Ryan Leonard, 19K): I'm sure a lot of you have already read this in the last week or so, but I couldn't not recommend it. Mack goes into heat and Will needs an alpha to help him out. Who to call but the ex?

And then we enter the realm of vaguely devastating but gorgeously written JDTZ trade fics:

home by now by donderwolk @donderwolkenblog (Jamie/Trevor, 6K): The moment they found out about the trade, and a little bit after. Brilliant, impeccable, ruinous.

heat check by jolach @hyggles (Jamie/Trevor and also Carts/Richie, 4K): Outsider perspective on Jamie and especially Trevor as they deal with the aftermath of the trade, through the eyes of Mike Richards, who may have some experience in the area. I don't know how anyone writes this well, honestly.

Finally, one of my favorite things about reading through the past year's fics is finding a prolific new author I love who I had totally missed in my year of mostly reading people I'm already subscribed to. This year it was unsay (@tungpin). They seem to have started writing HRPF this year, and they tend toward the kind of complicated sometimes-ambiguous stories that I never manage to write but love to read. Here are a few of my favorites of theirs from this year:

malt (MattDrai, 4K): Leon meets Sasha Barkov and has feelings about how he wants to be more serious than Matthew does (OR DOES HE).

accessory to the rockstar (McDrai, 5K): once again we have Leon having thoughts about how he feels more than the person he's into, this time about Connor. Bittersweet and lovely.

the care and keeping (Jamie/Trevor, 12K): in which Trevor's friends get on Jamie's case about neglecting him post-trade, and Jamie does something about it.

That's it from me, at least for now! I know there were many excellent stories this year I didn't get to, especially the long ones that I just didn't commit to while reading for this list. Perhaps this is the year I do what I've been telling myself to do for the past two years and keep track of what I read and love throughout the year. We can only dream. 😅

Happy reading!!

[tojisun]

im shaking in need my god pop star f!reader x hockey player price oh god oh god

EXCLUSIVE: john price (2), goalie for the specgru and a nominee for this year’s vezina, seen holding hands with a budding pop star of the era, five years his junior.

both are seen dining together and walking around downtown after this night's victorious game against the florida shadows. the two seemed to be engrossed in their conversation and are happy with each other.

it is important to note that price had stated two years ago that he was taking himself out of the dating market after divorce with now ex-beau martha castillo, his wife of four years. is he rescinding his statement? when was this relationship formed? did… (subscribe to suns net to read more)

"jesus," john rumbles, his words muffled behind his palm as he sags in his chair. he passes the tablet back to laswell, their manager, and refuses to make eye contact with anyone else in the group.

the team were the first to call him since the incident, the incessant ringing rousing him from his peaceful dream. he stretched his arm out to pluck his phone from the nightstand, careful not to jostle you awake.

in the end, his efforts were futile because your own team reached out to you. unlike the specgru's management team, yours were more prepared for the fiasco, sending threads of emails full of instructions how to deal with the situation.

it's not necessarily a scandal, not with how there were more people reacting in favour of the relationship, but john had always been a private person and he is just not used to how his relationship with you ended up being public just overnight.

it's not your fault, no matter how many times you've told him so. he knew what he was getting into when he pursued you. he told his team, their PR department, and even his parents about what might change. even martha was given a lengthy call, the two of them making arrangements how martha and her new wife could possibly avoid being pulled into the spotlight.

so really, everything's fine. it really is. it's just that you've been ignoring his calls since this all started, running out of his flat with a yelled, "be back!", only to disappear for hours. john is worried.

"lassie’s probably doing work. damage control an' all that—you know how it is in the bizz," johnny says, consoling.

"do you know how the 'bizz' even works, 'tavish?" kyle pipes in.

john hears a choked sound, then an abrupt yelp, before scuffling fills his ears.

great. now his team’s tussling.

“out,” kate’s voice pierces through his thoughts. “you all, out. you’re distracting.”

“but missus!” johnny whines, but he doesn’t get to say any more and john looks up, wanting to see how terrifying kate must have looked like to shut johnny up.

oh, yeah, he thinks. that'd put the fear of god in anyone, alright.

he watches as the team shuffles out, all of them sending him comforting smiles, before he’s left alone with kate and alex. kate sits in front of him. “run it by me again, john. where did she tell you she’d be?"

john licks the back of his teeth, hesitating, but before he can respond, his phone rings. three chirps pass when john was finally able to reach for it, ignoring the bewildered look that alex is giving him—kate, it seems, is not even shocked by how agile john is when it comes to you.

"hello?" he murmurs, turning away from his managers in lieu of privacy. from the reflection of the window, he sees alex look away too, in pretense with john, while kate continues to stare, scrutinizing.

"hi, baby," you chirp with a giggle as if you were not radio silent for four whole hours; the afternoon is about to swell at its peak, the summer sun sweltering from every corner of the city. "i missed you lots."

and just like that, john feels himself relaxing. his shoulders sag in the newfound comfort wafting from within his chest, his bruised lips—he didn't even know he had been biting them in his worry—slipping between his teeth, and his forehead easing from all his frowning.

john feels like he's won another game; like they've defeated the shadows and claimed the cup for themselves already.

"s'alright," he says, a touch softer. "all is well f'r you?"

"all is well," you reply, voice curling like you’re smiling. "i'm gonna do somethin' soon so all i ask is that you trust me, okay?"

"of course," john instantly replies before his mind could even comprehend what you just said. "wait what-"

"okay then. bye!"

the line drops just like that.

"oh god," kate hisses from behind john. john can't quite say he mirrors the sentiment because anything you do is good. everything that you are is bright.

he would trust you with a goal, if he could—you have his heart already, after all.

.

"holy shit!" mactavish shrieks before a phone is shoved underneath john's face.

he goes cross-eyed, blinded by the blue light for a minute, before he is finally able to push johnny's hand away. he plucks the phone from his friend, grunting when the rest of the squad flank him, heads butting his own as they try to get a glimpse of what was on mactavish's phone.

simon begins to laugh while kyle repeats johnny's words.

john can't blame them. holy shit indeed.

it was a new post from you, in instagram. it was a picture he remembers you asking him to take for you from the night before, all coy as you danced in front of him, both of you ignoring the obvious tent underneath his sweats.

"i want a keepsake," you murmured while batting your eyelashes. "please?"

"it's all yours, if you want," john remembers replying, all parched with his need.

"no," you said with a giggle. "a picture's enough."

"okay," he had said with a croak, his eyes blown wide as desire bloats from the pit of his belly.

so here it is now, posted for everyone's eyes in your account, the product of your seduction—you, sitting on the back your legs, stretching out on the bed, clothed in nothing but his jersey for a top—the bold and white-coloured 2 almost covers your whole back—and a black bikini for a bottom.

his eyes flit to the caption: comfy in his shirt. #letsgospecgru

"holy shit," john rasps out loud this time, his need growing teeth.

keller bursts into the locker room. “your turn to post with her merch.” he throws something at john and it is only his reflexes that allows him to catch it with his hands.

he looks at it—it’s a cream jumper sold during the release of your new album. the material is soft, the embroidery so smooth. the logo, even, is beautiful.

say less, he thought, already slipping out of his practice shirt and into the jumper.

.

[image]

pricejhn2: her number one fan #newalbum

[goldengleams]

hiii pookie 😙 i've never requested anything so, feel free to do anything you want but w matt rempe pls? 🩷 ily!

come back to bed | m. rempe

hope you enjoy sof!!! love you my cutie!

You rolled over in bed, having just woke up from a dream and wanting to reposition yourself in Matt’s arms. You let out a soft whine when you realized he wasn’t next to you in bed.

“Matt?” You whispered. You lifted yourself up on your elbows to squint at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 3:29 AM.

Reluctantly arising from your warm bed, you quietly walked down the hallway. You carried a blanket for Matt in case he was asleep on the couch, which wasn’t uncommon if he was watching hockey. The bathroom light wasn’t on, nor was the light near your television. In your sleepy haze, you heard a glass clinking as it was set down. Bingo.

Finally, you spotted Matt sitting on a stool by the kitchen island. His hunched figure was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the candle that was lit in front of him. The scent of vanilla entered your nose as you drew closer.

“Matt, why are you up? It’s three in the morning,” You called in a whisper. He whipped his head towards you, startled by your presence.

“Geez, you scared me Y/N,” he chuckled softly. Matt’s hair was strewn about, the product of him running his hands through it incessantly and his leg bounced up and down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled sheepishly, stepping closer to him to wrap him up in the blanket. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, just couldn’t stop thinking about today,” he sighed, mumbling a soft thank you. He was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Your sleep-addled brain was not ready to comprehend big feelings, but you wanted to be there for him.

“It’s finally happening,” you said, smiling. “I’m so excited for you.”

Matt nodded, focusing his attention on the cup in front of him. He traced the rim with his finger, lost in thought once again.

You were overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu as you watched him in the ambient light. You and Matt had met two years ago. At the time, you were a college student in Connecticut and Matt was playing hockey in Hartford. You had met through a dating app and while it didn’t seem like you had anything in common, Matt had won you over pretty easily. Both of you were set on living in New York City-you wanted to do more schooling and Matt was hoping to be called up by the New York Rangers. After many date nights, hockey games, and one graduation, you were both closer to living your dreams. You had been waiting for the day that Matt came and stayed at your apartment while preparing to play for the Rangers.

But, it was never without some bumps in the road.

You knew you’d never understand what Matt went through as a hockey player, but for the past two weeks, you had tried to be there for him. He’d received the call from the Rangers in the beginning of February to play, but he hadn’t gotten any playing time. That would change today when he made his debut.

“Your family is so excited too, I can’t wait to sit next to Steph and Alley and cheer you on,” you tried again. It was true, in a few hours, you would be driving with Matt’s family to MetLife Stadium to watch his NHL debut. You couldn’t be happier for him.

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and it’s, like, here. Feel like I’ve waited for so long and I just want it to go well. Especially today.”

“It’ll go well, babe. You know that,” you said. You made your way to sit next to him at the other stool. Matt and his family had been thinking of his Dad who had passed away and you knew that it would be a huge deal for him to make his debut on his anniversary. You reached out for his hand and gently traced a pattern onto his palm.

“You’re going to make your family so proud, Matt. Especially your Dad.”

Matt released a shuddering breath he had been holding in for far too long. He pulled the blanket tighter around his broad shoulders, a chill running through him from the seasonal February weather.

“What if I’m nobody?” Matt whispered it so quietly you’re not sure you would’ve heard it if it wasn’t silent. The doubts of not being good enough swarmed in his mind.

“First of all, you won’t be nobody, Matt. And I know that the people in your circle wouldn’t care if you scored a hundred goals or zero, or ever played with the Rangers. You’ll always be somebody to us,” you said softly. “You’ll always be someone to me.”

You brought his knuckles to your lips and gave a soft kiss. You watched the tension leave his shoulders and he quickly reached over to give you a kiss. He leaned into you easily.

“There’s my boy,” you said against his lips.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “And thanks for listening to me at 3 in the morning.”

You chuckled. “Technically it’s 4 now, so you should come back to bed and cuddle me until your stupid alarm goes off at 7.”

Matt blew out the candle and stood up from the stool. You made grabby hands at Matt, which he quickly took and led the two of you back to bed. You both climbed in bed and Matt wrapped the blanket around both of you to keep warm.

“Love you baby,” he mumbled, already drifting off. His hair tickled your ear as he moved closer to you. “Gonna score for you tonight.”

“Yeah and you better not get in any fights, Rempe.”

“Mmm, no promises.”

——————————————————————

Enjoy this Matt Rempe blurb and go request more in my inbox! 😋😋

[joeyspuckbunny]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ mine. - j. woll ˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: Joe and Y/N go to the Annual Tavares' Christmas party, where Y/N meets a majority of the team for the first time. She hits it off with the young forward, Matthew Knies. Seeing Y/N so content with a younger guy, Joe gets worried about his age difference with her and the problems that may arise from it. request: hey love hope you're doing well, could you write a fic with Joseph Woll where the reader meets Matt Knies for the first time since joe and her have been dating for a while, and joe gets jealous. hope that makes sense if not ignore! ❤️ word count: 1403 warning(s): jealous joe, age gap (reader is 20 and joe is 26), insecure joe because i can't make knies actually flirt with his best friends gf, not proof read notes: this might be horrible im so sorry !! i don't see joe as the jealous type so this was a little hard but i'm trying to build my writing skills so i like the challenge. i had to add a few more tropes to make it flow better if that's ok. i hope you enjoy !!! xoxo

"Joeyyyyyy !!" you whine, sitting with the car door open, "Will you carry me? My heels are open toed and...there's snow".

It's the Annual Toronto Maple Leafs christmas party at John Tavares' home in Oakville. Joe insisted you come meet the team a bit more formally now that you two had officially been dating 6 months. You knew all their wives and girlfriends well, bonding over the joys and hardships of having a partner in pro-hockey. This was your first time meeting the actual players, though. And, boy, were you nervous.

"Sweetheart, its like 30 steps," Joe stands by your open door, in the falling snow. You pout and say "You hate me".

"I don't hate you. Actually, it's the opposite. I love you. Now, come. You know how Aryne feels when people are late".

You huff and grab your purse, jumping out of Joe's blue porsche and into the snow covering JT's driveway. Joe grabs your hand and you wander up to the front door together before you stop, suddenly. "Ok, remind me, who am I meeting tonight?". Joe sighs. You have been through this at least 5 times today.

"Y/N, you're gonna be fine. No reason to be nervous," he smiles with kind eyes. "I'm not nervous. I just want to remember who everyone is". Joe nods again and starts, "You know JT and Mitchy. Remember from the gala we went to a few weeks ago?". You nod and he continues, "You'll meet Autson, Willy, Domi, McCabe, Reavo, Mo, Lorentz, Stolie and Kniesy. They will love you, baby. Trust me."

You nod again and smile. With that, Joe rings the doorbell. JT answers the door, "Hey, guys, how are you doing? Come on in". You step into the beautifully decorated foyer of the Tavares home and hear chatter coming from the other room. JT takes your coat and you see his wife, Aryne, beckon you over into the kitchen.

You and Joe walk into the other room, soon realizing you were the last to arrive. Everyone is there. Holding drinks, talking and laughing together. It feels nice to be part of something like this. Dating Joe has been an adjustment but when you see all your new friends and the community you have built, it makes it all worth it. The girls come over and hug you, complimenting your dress or hair, while the guys exclaim at Joe's arrival, teasing him about his lateness. Domi even makes a comment on how he "cleans up real nice" and winks.

Joe makes eye contact with your from across the room and makes a motion for you to come closer. You excuse yourself from your group of friends, who have changed the subject from your outfit to what Aryne should get her mom for Christmas.

"Hi," you wave at all the new people staring at you. "I'm Y/N-". "Oh we know who you are, love, don't worry," McCabe cuts you off and smiles. Stolarz laughs and continues, "Yeah, Woller doesn't shut up about you". You smile and look over at Joe. He's blushing like crazy. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N," Domi give you a toothless grin. Auston shakes you hand, "Welcome to the team".

Time has gone by and you decide staying sober was not fun whilst everyone else is drunk. You get yourself a "christmas martini" (something Reavo's wife, Alanna, brought) and sat down in the living room. Joe was outside talking to Willy and Mo. He looked content from what you could see, smiling and laughing with beer in hand.

"Mind if I sit?"

You hear someone ask, snapping you back to reality. You look up and see the one and only Matthew Knies. He smiles down at you and you nod, "Of course". He nods and takes a seat beside you. "I have been meaning to talk to you. You're Y/N right?" he looks over, as if to make sure. You nod and smile, "That's me!".

"Great. I can't believe it took this long for us to meet. Joe never stops talking about you, you know. Always going on and on about how lucky he is to have you and what not. But I wanted to get to know you. From you. Tell me about yourself, Y/N. I wanna know why Joe loves you so much."

The way he speaks comes for a place of genuine interest. Joe talks about Knies a lot at home. They are close and you can tell how much they care about each other from what you see in games and what Joe tells you. You both fall into easy conversation and... let's just say, Joe takes notice.

The back wall of JT's home is lined with big glass sliding doors leading to the backyard. The guys standing outside have perfect view of everything going on inside, like it's one massive movie.

Joe looks over his shoulder. You're normally okay in social situations but with the amount of new people here, he wanted to make sure you were still having a good time. He finds you sitting over by the fireplace and at first, doesn't even notice Kniesy sitting there beside you. He is just taking in how beautiful you are. The way your smile lights up the room. The way your eyes sparkle. Everything about you reminds him why he fell in love with you in the first place. You are truly an angel on earth.

Suddenly, he looks to the left of you and sees Knies. Now, Joe isn't a possessive man by nature. The oldest of three children meant a lot of sharing as a child. But you sitting there with Knies makes him nervous. And for good reason. Knies is an attractive man who is much closer in age to you than he himself is. The age difference between the two of you never really bothered him before but it did now. Not that he was insecure about anything. He was just... worried. That's allowed, right?

"Hey, Knies, enjoying my girlfriend's company?" he says as he walks up to you. It's not a confrontational comment but he wants it to take him aback a little bit. You look up a little confused and Knies nods, "Yeah, she's amazing, man. Can't believe you bagged her". He nods and takes a seat next to you. "Isn't she?" he responds, putting his arm around you and kissing your cheek. "Joey, stop that. I'm trying to talk to Kniesy," you giggle as his stubble tickles your face. Joe nods and smiles, "Just reminding him you're mine". He the turns to his best friend, saying, "Don't get any ideas, kid," before getting up and walking away. It's a subtle act but he knows he got his message across. Even if he had nothing to worry about before, he definitely has nothing to worry about now.

You notice no animosity between Joe and Knies through the night and by the time you're ready to head out, they are giggling like school girls over stat they looked up on Joe's phone. You walk over and lean down to whisper, "Time to go, Joey,".

The process of leaving is easy. Everyone says good bye, you hug everyone and you all exchange the customary "we have to hang out more" before heading to the car. Joe hands you the keys because he's too drunk to drive and you get settled into the driver's seat.

Before you leave the driveway, you ask, "Joe, what was all that about with Knies earlier?". He looks over at you briefly and then down at his hands, like an ashamed child.

"I'm sorry, baby. I just felt... weird. It's no mystery there's a bit of a gap between our ages and Knies is so much closer in age to you than I am. I got nervous you'd realize how old I really am and leave me for... a younger model like him," he looks back up at you towards the end of his explanation.

You sigh and reply, "Joe, you're not old. 26 is not old at all. And even if our age difference bothered me, which it doesn't, I wouldn't leave you for Knies. Trust me, if we don't last forever, I won't date another hockey player ever. I love you, Joe. Don't worry. I'm yours."

He smiles and kisses your hand, "That's right, baby girl, you're mine".

[goodnightoilcountry]

jo's nhl fic rec list !

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

how to navigate

i update this list weekly (try to) and place all the new fic recs at the top under NEW.

when searching for a specific player, they will always be listed under their current team.

* updated sunday 26 january 2025 *

weekly note: thank u to the avs and canes for not blowing up my fic rec list too much following that monster three-way trade <3 happy sunday night to you all and i hope you all have a great week of reading / writing !

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

NEW

the collection (quinn hughes) by @captain-huggy-bear summary: You keep every single puck that Quinn has ever given you, he finds your collection that you've been shyly hiding away. It might just be the thing that makes him realise you're the girl he's going to marry.

anything that can go wrong will go wrong (nico hischier) by @aleskie summary: Nico wants to marry you. He's more sure of that than anything else. Things just aren't going according to plan.

the boys try to guess who on the team reader is dating (wyatt johnston) by @theemporium summary: standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips word count: 6.6k

adore you (william nylander) by @cuteandhughesy summary: 5 times fans were more excited about meeting and seeing you rather than your boyfriend, william nylander. word count: 4.1k

crawling back to you (matthew knies) by @cuteandhughesy summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au) word count: 19.9k

FIC REC MASTERLIST

total number of fics: 190

anaheim ducks fic rec list players: trevor zegras

carolina canes fic rec list players: andrei svechnikov - pyotr kotchekov - sebastian aho - seth jarvis - tyson jost

colorado avs fic rec list players: cale makar - jack drury - nathan mackinnon

dallas stars fic rec list players: wyatt johnston

detroit red wings fic rec list players: jt compher

florida panthers fic rec list players: matthew tkachuk

montreal canadiens players: juraj slafkovsky

nashville preds fic rec list players: brady skjei

new jersey devils fic rec list players: jack hughes - luke hughes - nico hischier

new york islanders fic rec list players: mat barzal - matt martin

philadelphia flyers fic rec list players: erik johnson - jamie drysdale

pittsburgh penguins fic rec list players: anthony beauvillier - michael bunting - sidney crosby

toronto maple leafs fic rec list players: auston matthews - mitch marner - william nylander

utah hc fic rec list players: clayton keller

vancouver canucks fic rec list players: arturs silovs - brock boeser - quinn hughes

ALL OUR WONDERFUL WRITERS

thank you to all the incredible fic writers on this godforsaken app ! i am always so in awe of how creative people are and am constantly inspired by your minds ! i can't wait to find more of you on here 🤍

@43-hugs @adoristsposts @austonwithan-o @babydollmarauders @bagopucks @bedsyandco @behoright @bitchinbarzal @blueskrugs @bqstqnbruin @cellythefloshie @chewingcyanide @comphersjost @comphy-and-cozy @doc-pickles @eyesthatroll @fallinallincurls @happer08 @hischierdevils @hischierhoney @hockeyboistrash @hockeywhy @hockey-fics @hockey-hoe-24-7 @holy-pucks @hookingminor @huggybug @hugshughes @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @islesnucks @itsjusthockey @ladylooch @letsgetrowdy43 @marnerparty @matthewtkachuk @mattyanonwrites @matwith1t @mendeshoney @misshoneyimhome @mrsensitive @nhlclover @ohmyeyesmyeyes @pennylanefics @prettytoxicrevolver @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys @silovsmenot @starry-hughes @senditcolton @silverstonesainz-archive @stormsplurge @sunkissed-zegras @sunnyskiesscareme @sydnikov @thatintrovertedwriter @theemporium @thewintersoldierdisaster @undertaurus @unluckyhoneybee @withwritersblock @yelenasdog @youunravelme

[puckinghischier]

Spotlight

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary - reader prefers to stay out of the spotlight being luke hughes’ girlfriend brings

notes - y’all asked for luke, so luke you’ll get. i wanted to try to get out at least one more fic for you guys before my semester kicks off tomorrow. i don’t know how often i’ll be able to write once things get going, but i’m going to try my best not to completely disappear again. i don’t really like the ending of this, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. happy reading! 🫶🏼

request - “go with me?” “only if you’ll hold my hand” “take my jacket, i don’t want you catching a cold”

[2.3k]

You were someone that absolutely hated the spotlight. You hated the feeling of eyes on you, the knowledge that every move you make is being observed and analyzed.

You flew under the radar all through school, until college. You managed to become valedictorian of your program, earning a highly sought after position with a company based out of New Jersey.

The city has always brought a sense of anonymity to you that you’ve enjoyed. The ability to be a stranger everywhere you go brings a certain comfort to you.

That is, until you met one of the most well-known men in Jersey.

You first met Luke at an event your company was hosting in partnership with the Devils to present them with a hefty donation for a new practice facility. You had tried to get out of going, suit and tie events not being your typical scene, but your boss informed you that you were required to attend.

Even wearing the most plain dress you could find, you caught the attention of none other than the team’s rookie defenseman. You had tried to politely make your exit, but Luke was too intrigued by the pretty stranger in the corner.

The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking, despite the feeling of every eye on you as Luke lead you back to a table. The two of you exchanged numbers at the end of the event, Luke inviting you out to a game. He offered to give you a ticket, but you informed him that your company had rink-side season seats, courtesy of the GM after the donation.

You attended games regularly after that night, blending in the sea of red with Luke’s own Jersey on your back—another perk of the large donation— while also chatting with Luke nearly every day over text, which eventually morphed into phone calls, then facetime calls when he was on the road.

Four months after your initial meeting, Luke decided to make it official and put a label on your relationship.

You had worried about the unwanted attention that came with being a ‘WAG’ as you learned the other significant others on the team were nicknamed, but your feelings for Luke were greater than any discomfort you may experience.

Now, though, looking at the hoard of photographers that are stationed around the rink, your anxiety begins to spike a little.

“Honeybee, I promise it’ll be fine. They probably won’t even focus on us, anyways. They’ll want a few shots of me and Jack with mom and dad, but it’s likely they’ll be too busy on the guys with kids to even notice you’re with me,” Luke reassures you, crouched in front of you while tying your skates.

Today was family skate day for the team, Luke having asked you weeks ago to participate with him.

You agreed, despite your limited ability to skate, thinking it was just going to be the players and their families, no media presence. When you arrived with Luke this morning, however, and you saw the photographers trying to get pictures through the windows of Luke’s BMW, you realized you were wrong.

“I’m just nervous, Luke,” you tell him quietly. “I know if they release pictures of you with a girl during family skate it’s going to be the next big hockey gossip topic, and then it’ll feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Luke’s soft eyes look up at you, sensing the nervousness in your own.

“I know, sweet girl. But I promise, I’ll have Tom talk to the media and tell him to withhold any pictures of us together, if that makes you feel better?” he offers, picking up your now skate clad foot off of his knee and placing it on the padded floor.

You think about the offer, but realize it would still cause unwanted attention on you. You don’t want to be difficult, just invisible.

“No, I don’t want to overcomplicate things. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m sure they’ll mostly focus on everyone else,” you smile down at him, watching his own grin overtake his face.

“Well then, it’s time we finally get you acquainted with the ice. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot of it in your future,” he winks, standing to his full height and holding a hand out to help you off of the bench.

He helps you walk over to the entrance to the rink, steadying you after every wobble. Once you reached the gate, you hesitate, halting your movements.

“C’mon, Honeybee. Go with me?” Luke asks you, already having stepped on the ice.

Thinking about what this means once more, and the huge step it is, no only onto the ice but in your relationship, you hesitate for only a few seconds.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you tell him, your words going deeper than just ice skating.

“Always,” he responds, tugging your hands towards him when you step onto the ice, shakily keeping your balance.

“Well, look at you, Wallflower, out here skating with the big dogs,” Jack calls out, skating up towards you and Luke.

Looking over to give him a short smile, you try to keep a majority of your attention on not falling over as Luke slowly pulls you towards him as he skates backwards.

“Figured it can’t be that hard if you do it all the time,” you tease him back, the two of you becoming close friends over the course of yours and Luke’s relationship.

Jack, as rambunctious and rowdy as he can be, is one of the people who works the hardest to keep you out of the spotlight, other than Luke, of course.

On the rare occasion you decide to tag along for team outings with Luke, Jack will act as your own personal body guard, perfectly hiding you in-between him and Luke anytime there’s a flash of a camera or a squeal of a fan.

“Oh, yeah, make fun of the professional. Let’s see you do this,” Jack makes a big show of skating backwards while swiveling, then executing a very poor jump, but still managing to land upright on his skates.

You roll your eyes at him, only glancing up for a few seconds at a time, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet.

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough showing off. Give the poor girl a break,” you hear Ellen scold her middle child as her and Jim skate over towards the three of you, hand in hand.

“Hey, she started it. I was just trying to defend myself,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Luke guides you over to one of the short walls, allowing you to hold onto it for support for a second, giving you a break.

“Don’t act like you have to have a reason to show off, it’s just your natural state,” you tease Jack again, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“You got me there,” Jack doesn’t argue, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

“Jack! Luke! Over here!” you hear a voice yell, turning to look at the photographer a few feet away from you, leaning over the wall with his camera pointed in your direction.

You feel the spike of anxiety in your chest, attempting to scoot further down the wall to separate yourself from them, but nearly losing your balance.

Luckily Luke was right there to catch you. “Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just get a few pictures of our family together and then move on,” he assures you once he makes sure you’re steady enough to be left alone.

You watch as Jack and Luke position themselves in just the right way that you’re completely hidden behind them, the added bodies of Ellen and Jim only ensuring your hidden state.

The photographer snaps a few shots of the family before giving a thumbs up, looking down to check the quality of his pictures.

You let out the breath you were holding in, sagging a bit at the relief of avoiding any unwanted attention.

“See, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Luke skates over to you again, leading you away from the wall.

“Luke! How about a shot of you and your lady!” the same photographer yells out, causing your relaxed state to turn rigid in a heartbeat.

“Nah, man. No pictures for her today. Just me and Jack,” Luke replies, skating to stand in front of you, blocking you from the camera pointed at you.

“Oh, c’mon, man. The fans will love it!” the photographer tries again, attempting to move positions to catch a glimpse of you.

“He said, no, man. Go get some shots of Cap or something. She doesn’t want her picture taken,” Jack skates up, standing in front of both you and Luke.

The photographer rolls his eyes, agitated at the loss of a good picture opportunity. “Fine, whatever,” the man huffs, turning and walking towards Nico and his family.

“Thanks, you guys,” you mumble out, embarrassed at the interaction.

“I told you, no pictures if you don’t want them,” Luke turns to face you, taking your hands in his once again, pulling you out further onto the ice.

The rest of the skate goes smoothly, no more unwanted attention from the photographers, just you and Luke and his family skating in small circles and having a good time.

Towards the end of the skate, you start bringing your gloved hands up to rub at your red nose, the chill of the ice finally getting to you.

“You cold, Honeybee?” Luke asks you, knowing how chilled you get, even when wearing layers like you were right now.

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here. Not that you’d know,” you tease your boyfriend, gesturing to his full set of pads and jersey he was wearing. Not to mention his tolerance for the cold anyways.

He leads the two of you over towards the benches, leaving you leaned against the wall for a second before returning with something in his hands.

“Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you catching a cold,” he tells you, draping your favorite plaid jacket of his over your shoulders.

You put your arms through the large sleeves, loving how you were now engulfed in the smell of his cologne.

Thanking him, you lean up to give him a small kiss, not caring who was watching, lost in your love for your boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these skates and back into your normal shoes before people start filing in for warm ups. I have a game to play and you have to get to your seat so you can watch your hunky boyfriend do his manly job of hitting people and chasing a piece of rubber on ice,” he tells you, causing you to laugh at him, bringing a hand up to ruffle his curls.

After helping you remove your skates, and pouting until you give him a good luck kiss, Luke shoos you away so you can make your way to your usual seat, Jim and Ellen opting to join you at the glass rather than sitting in a box with some of the other player parents.

The boys ended up winning their game, Luke coming straight out of the locker room after the game and picking you up in a celebratory spin, claiming you have to go skating with him before every game now.

You laugh at his superstitious self, grabbing his hand and walking towards the exit of the rink with him to join the rest of the team for celebratory drinks, not wanting to bail on Luke after such a game.

Weeks later, when you see an article containing the pictures from the family skate event, you click on it and scroll through the various snapshots.

You find yourself smiling at all of the family pictures of Luke’s teammates, enjoying how happy the guys are to have their wives and kids with them on the ice.

Scrolling all the way to the end of the article, you find yourself stopping on a couple pictures in particular, the familiar pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

The last two pictures in the article are pictures of you and Luke. The first was taken when he was zipping up the jacket he gave you, the two of you looking at each other with so much fondness you could feel the love radiating from the picture.

The second is when you were craning your neck to give Luke a small kiss, the picture captured right before your lips touched, both of you smiling at the other with the same fond look in your eyes.

Your immediate reaction should have been a level three meltdown, your picture out there with Luke, officially, in an ESPN article of all places, but you were surprisingly calm. You should have been screaming and angry, having specifically told the photographer no pictures, but you couldn’t find that anger within yourself.

The pictures showcased yours and Luke’s love for each other so well, you wanted copies of them for yourself. Suddenly you didn’t care if people knew your name, or your face. You could care less if you were front and center on every hockey gossip page in existence.

All you cared about was the amount of happiness you saw on Luke’s face in the pictures, and how deeply you felt about him.

So, when Luke called you an hour later, panicked and telling you he was in the process of getting them taken down, you told him it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to be taken down, because you didn’t care if you had to stand naked in the middle of the rink during puck drop at his next game, you just wanted people to know you loved him with every ounce of your being.

Your aversion to attention be damned, seeing these pictures made you want to scream your love for him from the rooftop of the highest building in Jersey. You were still opposed to the idea of unwanted and unnecessary attention, but decided right here that there would be no more hiding. You were going to be there for Luke in any way he wanted or needed you from here on out. And if you happened to be caught in a few pictures on the way? Well, you guess you’ll just have to get them framed.