#kitchen vocab

[er-cryptid]

Patreon

[daily-spanish-word]

kitchen la cocina

Imagine a small, cozy kitchen.

I’m very clumsy in the kitchen. Soy muy torpe en la cocina.

[velaenam]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW topics! swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, talks of depression/mental health, guilt tripping, manipulation, tba notes – not proofread. remember to read tags if you do have triggers. i try my best to update tags regarding each chapters, xo. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 5 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

before we start. i started compiling a playlist for this story if you were interested lol. main song at the top, along with a bunch of music i listened to while writing this aka inspo LOL . music will be added as i go through the story. also THE TEXT MSGS ARE MAAAD RAUNCY BAYBEE LIKE GOOD GAWD.. U N CALEB ARE DOGGS... ;)

caleb gets up and leaves his phone on the couch. he grabs all the dishes and puts them in the sink. as he clangs around the kitchen she stirs from her sleep. she mumbles incoherencies as she fishes for her phone, her fingers gripping his. she turns it on and blinks at it. 

“whispr notification” she mumbles out, as her eyes squint at it, still needing to readjust her peripherals. she types calebs password with ease and her eyes glue to the notification. she hovers just before clicking it and waiting for the message to arrive.

space baby: you’re okay. not mad, just sad. id like to meet you. ive been thinking about you more than i thought and i think id like to see you if youre okay with that

her stomach drops and she stares at the messages, reading up as much as she possibly can before her lip quivers into some sickened jealousy. who is space baby and why is he talking to her? his wink emoji is reserved for me. why is he flirting with this woman he doesn’t know? a fire in her eyes ignite as she pathetically scrolls through the conversation, each talk lodging a jealous knife into her chest.  

as she goes through, shes hit with a chestful of pain. her lips tremble, is it from jealousy? from the fact her best friend couldn’t text her how he was feeling, and hes reaching out to someone else? as her feelings arise to the surface, caleb finishes cleaning the dishes, and rubs his neck, and walking over to the other side of the hallway. he rummages through the hallway closet, grabbing a towel, “hey pipsqueak, can i shower?” he calls out to her, and she gives him a loud ‘mhm’ before returning to sneak through the phone texts.

space baby: so we can ask anything we want since we’re two randoms right? captain apple: yep! no judgement here. space baby: favorite sex position? captain apple: hmm, i think it’d be cowgirl. i like when the woman is in control, missionary too– honestly as long as i can watch your face kind of thing. you get what i mean? space baby: no yeah i literally have the same mindset, i have a thing with power. dunno why. captain apple: ive got a thing for power too. 

she scowls, as this was unbearable to her. seeing this person speaking to caleb in such a dirty way, made her skin stand, her blood boil, her body temperature drop. 

captain apple: this is really weird, but do you use toys on yourself? i’m a guy obviously, but what do you think of men using toys? space baby: i have toys, but i don’t use them as frequent as i want. and yeah honestly, i don’t care if men use toys. kinda cute actually.  captain apple: cute? haha , space baby your vocab is limited. space baby: hey! it is! wtf lol

she wanted to vomit. caleb was so lewd-- so shameless, and with a random woman no less. this fucked with her as she continues, ignoring her senses

captain apple: do you believe in love? space baby: no i don’t. do you? captain apple: i do. maybe i can change your mind ;) space baby: you are…. so…so corny.. oh my god captain apple: but you didn’t say no!  space baby: fuck ok yes lol. can’t say no to you, you charming man. captain apple: well, maybe one day i can see your flushed face.  space baby: you can maybe see more than that.  captain apple: look who’s corny now! space baby: was it really? captain apple: no… that was.. space baby: ;)

that was enough for her. she throws the phone, and it shuffles onto the edge of the couch. she sits up from her seat, her chin on her knees. she contemplated, biting her bottom lip in debate as she waited for caleb to return. 

as he comes out of the shower he has a towel around his waist, and another towel in his hand rubbing his hair dry. he walks towards the living room where his friend sits balled up, and he goes to touch her head. she scrambles, pulling herself away from caleb.

“what’s the matter pips-” – “who is she?” her voice was low, almost trembling– not with fear, but laced with malice, “why are you texting her so much?” she reaches for his phone, dangling it in the air in front of him. caleb’s mouth goes dry, his face flash with guilt that he couldn’t hide fast enough, “it’s not– she’s just some random stranger that i met from the app. that’s all pips.” he attempts, but she shakes her head, “no- not from the conversations that i saw!” caleb stops in his track, a serious invasion of privacy. he tenses, but his demeanor doesn’t change, “what did you see, pipsqueak?”

she shakes her head again, turning his phone on, “i saw enough! caleb… i thought we were closer… i thought i’d be your #1.. it seems like someone else has your heart now….” she turns away her hurt evident from the things she had read. caleb was dumbfounded, lost, confused. he had never seen her act  so possessive of him, and he couldn’t understand why. whether she did this on purpose made his heart beat harder than he thought it could. 

“i’m sorry pipsqueak i-” caleb goes to defend himself, only to be cut off again by his pipsqueak, “you said we tell each other everything, you said we didn’t keep things!” – “i wasn’t hiding it..” he really wasn't. the man hadn't seen her in months.

“then why does this feel like betrayal?!” her eyes were glossed, but not from the tears. there was something wild behind them– hurt laced with protectiveness? “unadd her. block her, right now, caleb.” she huffs, holding the phone like it burned her, becking him to take it and oblige her. 

caleb looks at her stunned, heart pounding for reasons he wasn’t ready to say, “you don’t get to decide that.” he states dryly, eyes staring to darken as his hands move up to snatch the phone from her hands, “i do when it’s you.” she murmurs, looking off to the side, “because you’re mine , you’ve always been mine.” 

the silence that followed was suffocating— filled with everything he wanted to say and everything he could bring himself to. and somewhere between the space of loyalty and something messier— or rawer, caleb realizes they may be standing on the edge of a line they may not be able to recross one done so. 

he looks down at her piercing gaze, then back to his phone. he turns it on, putting his password in, and clicking whispr. he looks at it and begins to type, “caleb.” she pleads. his face snap to hers, and he could see how hurt she looked. at that moment he was faced with a choice. 

he hits backspace and clicks on the three dots above space baby’s name, 

“unmatch and unadd?”  click.

he slides next to her, and wraps his arm around her as she sobbed quietly. a mix of regret and pain in his eyes. pain that he felt that he had to make such a consequential choice. regret of the unknown. perhaps he lied to himself more than he wanted to? now he will never know who she was, and that was going to sting for a little bit

“im sorry… i didn’t know that was hurtful to you.. ill never do that again.” he brushes her hair as he leans his body towards her.

days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. your maverick stunt was a side quest and your main one was getting neglected big time. skyhavens hangar hums quietly— save for the random bursts of the jet engines hydraulics or your footsteps. you move through active schematics, and glowing consoles, your sleeves rolled up, and your hair tied back. it’s been hours—- no days, since you’ve left the hangar. a cold cup of coffee and an inhaler of some sorts occupy your desk.

you adjust the thrust vectoring array on the new farspace fleet prototype. sleek, nimble, build for tunnel speed reactivity. your fingers move quickly and clinically, for distraction purposes.

there was a small hum from the console as a tech officer patches in while you were mid work, “you’re still here?” you respond without looking up, “this is where i work, and live apparently.” 

there was only a brief silence before the tech talks again, “you’ve run the thermal dispersal model 6 times now.” and without missing a beat, as if you were waiting for him to say something, “well it’s still not good enough. the tunnels don’t forgive errors.” 

once again you’re met by silence, assuming the tech unlinked the call, you sigh, before looking up at the model that returned your reflection, “at least you don’t vanish without a word.” 

caleb had a time after blocking space baby. he continued his regularly scheduled vacation to see her, and they spent more time texting. with her trying to text in the way space baby did, he felt appalled and quite honestly, icky. he didn’t have that weird connection that he did with her than he did with space baby, so with her trying to replace space baby it made him feel conflicted. on one hand it made him feel dejected, this kind of conversation is odd to have with someone he knew and no less, was attached to the hip. but on the other hand it makes him feel comfortable, and more domestic. 

he hadn’t seen you lately either. he’d ask about you and he’d hear multiple things in passing 

“probably busy with the new orders she got”

“she went to another country for work”

“they said she’s not in the building right now..” 

“she’s off and no i won’t disclose her whereabouts” caleb’d even gone to majors himself

when you were the topic there were excuses,  and he hates to admit but a part of him started to get even more sad. shifting three different attention into one person made life boring for him. you were suddenly so busy, and space baby no longer existed to him. he even tried to talk to whispr tech support about getting data and rematching and they’d give him the same answer.

he tried to find space baby again on whispr but by the end of the 2 weeks long process, he’s given up. space baby just didn’t exist in the system anymore and he had to come to terms with that. he relished it while it was fleeting. he enjoyed the life space baby gave the conversation, and sometimes took the reins. she didn’t do either. she was monotone, and would avert the conversation to her own accord. as much as he enjoyed getting that attention from her once more that he so much wanted weeks ago, he simply understood that life moves on, and part of moving one was meeting new people, or maybe it was to let things die down, and see where life took him.

you were okay for the most part. if you were lying to yourself of course. this whole situation made you feel even more iced out. your barrier got higher, and you worked and worked. you went out with your friends from time to time, but they definitely noticed the difference with you now.  it was temporary though– you’d promise. however,  you were just really bad with timing as usual. when you were going to take some time off the DAA called you into the office to have you start a highly classified program and you would work with multitudes of people from other departments. you’d be working with the DAA officially from here on out— or until you finished your project. so much for your planned vacation to another country. 

you finally finished, everything was going according to plan. you just had to finish the panel with the officials before you could take a temporary break. they knew they were straining you dry for having a one woman army tackle this, but there was nobody capable but you.

the room was stark and high tech, built for strategy and scrutiny. the prototype 3d model— sleek and formidable, rotators above the center table, and around the prototype a half circle of farspace fleet officials, commanders, engineers, and senior pilots sit stone faced and attentive.

you stand in front of the projector, a tablet in hand, and your shoulders squared. as they finish their conversations they turn to you, eyes locking with yours. you give them a half smile as you start your presentation. 

“good morning, I will be presenting the TG-X— the next generation tunnel rated aircraft designed for deep environment response“ and maneuverability, extended endurance in high-pressure zones, and rapid escape from collapse vectors.” 

you gesture and the ships hologram peels apart, revealing it’s system in layers, engines, shielding, navigation grid, etc. you clear your throat as the men and women look into each layers meticulously, “the TG-X runs on a twin-core propulsion system with independent stabilizer logic. that allows real time response with deepspace turbulence– down to .5 second input delay- give or take.” 

a fleet commander raises his fingers, his gruff voice ringing through the air, “twin-core setups overheat. you are risking a meltdown during boost.” your eyes dart to him, “not with our thermal regulators. each core is cooled by a fluid compression loop embedded in the outer hull struts– testing shows how heat dispersion exceeds prior models by 20-30 percent.” you flick your tablet, and the projection changes to a simulation. the TG-X navigating a collapsing tunnel scenario. field littered with debris, volatile currents, wanderers around. the ship dips, rolls, and escapes- cleanly.

the room is silent, the fleets people look amongst each other, clearly intrigued. the senior pilot leans in, her fingers trailing the wings, “and the wing design.. looks a little too light for heavy evasive thrusts, no?”  you tilt your head, clicking on the wing, and it opens the list of things it was comprised of, “flexible carbon titanium weave. reinforced at pivot points. it’s light because it has to be. if you’re using brute force in the tunnels well… you’re already dead.” 

that hangs in the air. a few of the officers glance at each other, before another one piped up, “you built this for survivability?” – “i build this so the people who fly it might actually come back.” it’s quiet once again. it settles like a weighted blanket. you stare off into the row of power, till you look back down on your tablet, the commander grunts, as if in a approving way, “we will authorize a full field evaluation. please prepare your men for the next proceeding.” 

you nod curtly, and they slowly file out of the room, until it was just you and your creation.  you don’t tremble. your hands don’t shake, even when they lower the lights and shut down the hologram. you stand, surrounded by silence and tech. no applause, and no words.  your design held up to the most powerful military government in the world, and they listened. this was your power. 

it was a cold evening, but you were even colder as you stood there, tight lipped, while your engineers yelled amongst each other. you tap your fingers on the table, as you look around the area of effect. whiteboard full of scribbles, schematics scattered everywhere, parts on the table, and the prototype sits pretty in the middle of everything. it was kinda relaxing, if hell relaxed you.

definitely beats watching reruns and being sad over a stupid captain apple. 

your thoughts are pried from you as one of the engineers slam their tablet down, “we can’t just run a single coolant loop through the avionics bay! if that line fails we lose guidance control and telemetry! do you not understand how difficult that’s going to be to deal with?” 

“we have a back up-”

“no we have a band aid. its redundant, and not to mention, wishful thinking!” in the corner like a wrestler another engineer raises his hand, “what if we triple the coolant lines. you wanna make it so dense back there no one can service it without disassembling the whole panel?”  finally you chuckle against their bickering, “if someone says serviceability i’ll kill everyone in here. this is a spacecraft, not a family sedan.”  

they all halt their bickering, as you continue, “you’re all right. avionics goes down– we lose everything. cant overload the architecture of the ‘craft. we need an active failover loop. independent routing, isolated power, isolated control logic.” 

you see them slump their shoulders in relief as they slink back into their seats, before you continue again, you start to point your fingers as you spoke to them, “you two rework the trunk layout and confirm thermal thresholds. you– build me a sim with both loop failures and see how long we can survive. and i- will be on redundancy logic. we need that switchover to be instant. autonomous.”  everybody grumbles, before nodding and dispersing for the night. 

they leave and you sit down, your finger rubbing circles on your temple. you were tired out of your mind. you couldn’t sleep though, you had damn near 4 cups of coffee and you were wired out of your mind. 

you grabbed your jacket as you closed the area down for the day. your heels click clack against the tarmac, and as you round the corner you spot a shadow a ways away, near a jet. your brows raise, as it was turning night, and no pilots that you knew of were supposed to be out doing night routines. 

you walk towards the shadow. you walking towards the shadow with absolutely no experience with combat, or a gun, you think to yourself, if this was a bad guy you were done for. but at the same time you were a mean track star back in college, so maybe you could outrun this figure. 

as you think of your possible early death you hear a donk, and followed by a “fuck!” and it snaps you out. it sounded like caleb. “pilot! what the hell are you doing out here this late?” you yell through the howling wind.

calebs body moves to the sound of your voice, and he drops his wrench. “oh shit– sorry. thought everybody was gone already.” your brows raise as he sits on the metal box, fiddling with the undercarriage. you sit down on the free metallic box and observe him. “i just got out of my meeting. you know there are workers for that right?” caleb chuckles as he moves out from the undercarriage, his smile accompanied with a grease line on his jaw. “its nice to be able to know how your companion works. i prefer to do things hands on.” he grabs the towel and rubs the grease off his face and arms, before tilting his head at you, “you know, i haven’t seen you in a while. how’ve you been?” 

“i’ve been better. exhausted honestly.” you put your hand in your face, groaning, “but i can’t sleep. 4th cup of coffee, and i think i have meetings back to back tomorrow, so i have to plan for that.” caleb nods sitting across from you. he grabs his squeeze bottle, taking a quick drink before he looks at you again, “you’re good with her. your plane.” he gives you a sheepish grin, before nodding, “i try to be.” 

“you’re not bad with people either.” you state, and his eyes linger on yours for a second longer, lips curving a bit. “i’ve got a good one in front of me right now. kind of hard to mess that up.” the words hang there, soft and honest. for a second your tired pacing mind stills. no simulations, no systems failing, no heat signatures or safety thresholds… just– him. caleb. 

and it feels nice.

..

..

“do you want to take a nap with me?” your eyes widen, what does that mean? “huh?” you reply dumbfoundedly, and he chuckles, “i mean i woke up from a nap, so i won’t be going to bed anytime soon. if you wanted i could wake you up so you could make it to your meeting on time?” 

you couldn’t help but feel warm from that statement. that was just– lovely. you’d be a fool to say– “no.” you mumbled softly, and caleb laughs awkwardly, “well, i figured i’d offer you.” you rise from the metallic box, and place your hand on his shoulder, “i appreciate your offer, caleb. but i think i’ll manage.” you go to ruffle his hair, and he grips your wrist gently. the two of you stare into each others eyes briefly before you let go so abruptly. you clear your throat, nodding at him, “good night caleb.” 

“good night” he says quietly as he watched you walk off into the building.

a couple weeks go by, your run ins with caleb became more prevalent. you’d be walking around the corner and crash into him. you’d see him walk into the lounge with his friends and they’d take turns ogling you like a piece of meat. you were fine with it, carnal desire was human. but the moment catcalling started hands would be thrown. but they knew better than that. they’d definitely get court martialed for less. 

he would try to get you involved in the stupid escapades the pilots and cadets were doing, only for it to fail miserably as you glare daggers and walked off, but he’d always catch that smile on your face as you rounded the corner. so to him it was worth the trouble.

you’d lock eyes with him as he got ready for flight, the hands on shoulders become more frequent, and your relationship with him gradually rises. the lingering stare became more of a thing when he’d pick up your food for you when you ordered something. he knew where your office was, and he’d make the trek across the runways just to bring it to you if needed. you'd stare at him, maybe share a meal if he had time. talk about your shared interest. shared interested that you may have already known from whispr.

you were a bit intrigued with his sudden pamper to you. you thought it would be because of the moment you two shared the other night, but you also figured that caleb was just a kind guy. a kind guy that was interested in you. not that you were against that– you were clearly interested in him as well. 

knock knock 

“come in” you say monotonously through the tempered glass. your eyes move to see who had come in, and it was caleb. he had a cup of coffee from the shop you had talked about, and your face turned to glee.

“i got you a brown shaken espresso. it’s new.” you thanked him and grabbed the cup, the hot content warming your cold fingers. oh yes, the richest government property in the country and their AC/heater was fucked. 

“thank you so much. how much do i owe you?” he shakes his head as he sits across your desk, “its nothing. honestly.” caleb chuckled, and you stare at him as your computer popped up an email. you read it as it comes in. it simply read;

“maverick is captain calebs. love dad.” you state to caleb. his eyes widen as he smiles in glee, “oh really? you sure you didn’t mess with the results?” you chuckle, shaking your head as you sipped the drink, “course not. but im not surprised. you performed exceptionally well compared to others. you blew them out of the water.” you chuckle at him as the two of you converse about what the next plan of topic was for the maverick. they would be swapping his current plane with the maverick, and they’d have his name on the side and everything. 

“caleb, what are you doing for the holidays?” 

he stills, and for a moment he looked like he was thinking. he did promise he was going to see his pipsqueak, but ever since the events that had happened when he last went, he was a bit drawn back. but he also promised her, and he’s never broke a promise to her.

“i’m probably going to go see pipsqueak..” – “is that like your pet?” – “n-no that’s my best friend in linkon..”-- “your best friends name is pipsqueak? like the radio nav?” he looked flustered, “y-yeah.. that..but no-- thats not her actual name” 

“well that’s cute.” you lie, your deadpan voice giving it away, he chuckles lowly, and puts his cup down, “what about you? anyone special you’re spending time with during the holidays?”  you place your palm on your jaw, and lean your elbow into the desk, a smirk flashing in your eyes, “oh, are you offering?” his face tints pink– and his ears! you giggle as you saw his face redden, and as embarrassing as it was for him, caleb felt at home. you were so warm, and your laugh was music to his ears. he feels as if he was falling, in a good way.

“i could be..” 

“well, i’ll hold you to that.. though, holidays aren’t in like another couple weeks.. but i do love to reserve ahead of time. you’ve got yourself a deal mr caleb.” you wink, and he smiles, before the intercom calls for ‘captain caleb to hangar 23’. he excuses himself as you nod at him, going back to your work. 

friday- he’s out with his friends, bar hopping, except he was designated driver. they were let go early due to the fleet having to come in and conduct their meeting. the fewer eyes the better for them as they say. so now his group of friends and him were currently at another bar to celebrate the early off into the weekend. 

he comes outside of the bar, taking a deep deep breath and closing his eyes. a semblance of peace was all he needed before he went crazy in there. he leans into the brick wall, steadying his breath as he continued to relax.

the neon sign hums, ‘OPEN’ with the E flickering here and there. music and muffled laughter spilling out everytime the door swings open. it was a pilot’s hangout– gritty and loud. the kind of place people go to forget the pressure of space and hardness of work. 

“-- well well, you look exhausted, captain.” his eyes snapshot open, catching your eyes. he straightens a little, turning his body to meet yours. “oh! you caught me off duty. don’t tell command…” he murmurs, and you laugh gently, shaking your head, “relax, i’m not a snitch. i also don’t care what DAA’s finest does on their off time. it’s been a tiring couple months for everybody.” 

a short silence settles between you two. not awkward, but not easy. he watched you stare at him, as he takes your outfit in. you wore it simple today. rings, earrings, v cut short sleeve, with high waisted pants, and white sneakers. when he noticed his prolonged stare he breaks contact, shifting his gaze through the window to watch his friends holler into a mic. he turns back to you, his eyes twinkling as it clashed with the neon colors, “what’re you doing here such a dingy area?” you join him, leaning on the brick wall yourself, and you shrug, “i love the bar food here. you?” – “i’m the guys designated driver for the night. not a big alcohol guy.” 

your eyes move to look at him, your impending curiosity beating harder. you wanted to know so bad. “responsible. how sweet. what do you do to relax and give yourself time?” you smiled at him, as the two of you watch the cars drive by. caleb hums a small chuckle, “well, i like watching planes take off.. i used to do it a lot when i was younger– with my best friend. i also read a lot of books on my free time. i’m a fan of dinosaurs and jurassic park, if you’ve heard?” 

you shake your head, “no i definitely have not, but it sounds cool. are you doing anything this weekend?” you go to reach your phone, and caleb shakes his head, “nope. how did your date with gideon go? he didn’t want to tell me.” 

you freeze up, and purse your lips, looking off to the side, looking a bit guilty. “i couldn’t do it. my mind was just preoccupied, and i don’t really date.” you lie, as you bump phones with caleb. he just gives you a nod and a ‘ah’ before you smile up at him again, “i apologize, but i’ve gotta get going. i bought pizza for tonight, and it’s ready for me. i hope to hear from you soon?” you tilt your head at him as you start for the door. caleb could only give you a nod.

you are home. tired, damn near defeated, but home. you place your pizza in the oven and set it to warm as you head to your room to change into something comfortable. you throw on your robe and your satin loungewear. you got a couple of drinks on the way home after your run in with caleb, and decided to settle down and catch up on island love. 

the pizza was sweltering, cheese ready to stretch as you pull a piece apart. it was like a cartoon pizza. it made your mouth water as you got yourself ready to pull an all nighter.

not 1 hour in you get a call. it was from caleb. you fumble your phone and hit answer as you lower the volume of the tv show, “hello?” he goes first, and you clear your throat, smiling through your words, “didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, caleb.” you could hear his laugh, his tone low and warm, “i just wanted to check and make sure you made it home..” it was a lie, and you both knew it, “you know… your delivery sucks…” you chuckle, and he does too after a second, “hm you know i’m kinda working on it.” 

there was a brief silence, before you ask the obvious, “why are you calling me this late?” another silence, followed by , “just dropped everybody off, and wanted to talk to you.” your heart skips a beat, and you swallow hard, fighting the smile creeping on your face, “hey caleb, do you want to come over? if you’re not tired. do you like chinese food?” 

“i’d be happy to. text me your address, and yes i do.”

“great. i’ll have majors pick you up.” 

-

caleb was lost for words. he was in the back of a sleek and kept car. assuming yours, with majors driving and on calebs lap, was a bag of chinese food that majors had picked up on his way to pick caleb up. you certainly had a lifestyle he was not known to. 

as majors gets out, he opens the door for caleb. he gets out, and he is met with a skyscraper in front of him. it was so very obvious you would have to have some sort of money to live in a place like this. he swore the foyer had real diamonds in there as he ogled. 

majors leads him to the elevator and they both get in. the silence kills them, as they stand apart, staring at the metallic door. 

ding! majors steps out first and followed by caleb. 

“be careful with her.” caleb looks to majors, who was just walking ahead, not a beat missed, “it’ll take a while for you to get used to her ways, but she’s a good woman.” he states, as he knocks on your apartment door. the sound of your shuffles break the quietness that meditated in the hallway, and shortly after your door opens. 

majors nods to you before heading out of sight, and you stand here with caleb. your face breaks out into a smile, and you step aside, urging him to come in. caleb comes in, staring in awe at how breathtaking your apartment was. there were faux models of black and white planes suspended on the sides, about the size of his forearms. he looked at the photos of what looked like was your father on maverick when he was still piloting it, grinning under his helmet. another wall was filled with your degrees, framed like trophies, centered around a photo of your graduation. you were certainly distinguished. he even looks at your dinner table– a blueprint heaven. tools, notebooks, a half-dissected engine schematic. you never stop working, it seems. “you ever turn your brain off?” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear, and he hears your sweet chuckle float over his shoulder before you indulge him, “if i did that then i’d have no money, and you wouldn't have mav.”

on a nearby bookshelf, caleb spots a faded photo in a silver frame. a much younger version of you is perched on your dad’s shoulder, both of you wearing matching aviator sunglasses. theres  grease on his flight suit, and juice stains on your overalls. he chuckled, his heart warming at the sight of. he can really tell your love for planes. hell, it might even be more than his. 

he snaps out of his trance as he joins you on the couch. he looks down at the coffee table, a cute little metallic version of maverick on the middle, along with some magazines and a candle. he watches as you clear it out to the side and pat the table.

“hey. here’s the take out you wanted.”  he says as he places the takeout in front of you both. “i didn’t know what you wanted, so i ordered some other stuff.” you say, as you take everything out of the bag, placing them on the coffee table. he stares at you as you take everything out, before turning his attention to the tv in front of you both. “what are we watching?” he chuckles, as you take your place next to him. 

“island love. it’s juicy, it provides me drama in my life that i do not have.” you say pridefully, as you explain the premise of the show to caleb. he looked so into it, asking you questions as you restart the season just for him. he comments on the show just as much as you do, and this made your heart flutter, and the butterflies in your stomach come alive. 

“you’re not gonna eat that last dumpling are you?” caleb asks with a sly grin. your brows raise, “was gonna save it…” he leans over, splitting the dumpling in half with his chopstick, and drops a piece into your container. he smirks at you, “compromise” he says as he chews on his half.

there’s a lull. the screen flickers. the two of you are quiet but not uncomfortable. he leans back a little, finishing his drink, and you catch yourself watching him. he looks good here. settled. natural. too natural, maybe. you shake the thought, tucking your feet beneath you. ugh god he’s fine.

you two talk—about work, about families, about stupid stuff. it’s easy, and warm, and you realize somewhere between the second dumpling and your explanation of why jamie should’ve never picked chloe that you don’t want this night to end. 

“so hey, question.” you grab the remote and turn the volume down as you look at caleb. he looks at you, grabbing his drink, “gideon told me you use whispr? he told me about your silly challenge.” you laugh briskly, and he nods, joining in, “did he tell you that i had to take them out for dinner?” he chuckles again, placing his drink on the table. your eyes never leave his, as you open your mouth to speak:

“ captain apple, was it?” 

his eyes widen.

it takes him back to the time where he got busted by grandma. he was trying to sneak some food up the stairs, and was strictly forbidden to take food in his room. so when he got busted he looked like a deer in headlights. 

the tension between you and caleb shifts, subtle but unmistakable. you tilt your head, repeating your words to him. his eyes finally lock with yours, his awkward smile catching the gleam of the tv, “did he… uh tell you my silly nickname on there?” 

ah, he was playing stupid. you shake your head at him, “ha, for sure. i used it a little bit as well.. lets see.. what was my name on there” you fake ponder, before you continue to mess with him, "space baby i think?" he just stares at you, “oh..” he breathes. 

you always wanted to know who was that charmer in those messages that kept you late at night. the man who was always making you laugh and the one who indulged you. knowing it was caleb made your heart a little happier, but you still wanted to know why the fuck? 

“i can explain…” he starts and you just nod,

“go ahead because we have all night— weekend even.” 

his gaze flicker at you, then his hand, “it’s not what you think… i… when i went to go visit her, my childhood friend? the one i was telling you about that one day., she saw the text messages.” your cheeks flush, those were certainly some raunchy messages. you wondered which one, and a part of you wanted to laugh at her, but you nod at him, “she didn’t like… that i was getting too close to you. she suddenly got- possessive? i’ve never seen the side of her.” he mutters under his breath and you breathe a sigh through your nostril. 'sounds like somebody had a crush they didn't want to come to terms with', you think as you allow him to continue,

“she thought… well, that we were getting too close.. that i was getting…. involved..” caleb shifts uncomfortably, his hands clenching into a fist but quickly releasing, “so to appease her i unadded you.” 

the words sting more than you expected, even though you weren’t really expecting much, it still sucked to hear. unadded. like you were just someone to be removed. the weight of it presses down on you, though you try to smile through it— albeit a little bittersweet.

“so you let your best friend dictate who you can and can’t talk to?” you try to keep the humor in your voice but it comes off a bit cutting to him. that most definitely wasn’t your type of man. having this discussion was cutting it close for you as it is “it’s not like that…” his voice softens with an edge of guilt to it, “i didn’t want to but… it got complicated..” 

your heart flutters out of your chest, and your brows scrunch towards each other, “caleb, complicated was me rerunning tests 6 times in a row with random ass results. i don’t want to be rude but it just sounds like you have no backbone for this girl.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. he feared that you were right. you were speaking truth to existence and he couldn’t do a damn thing. if anything he enjoyed the truthfulness from you. “im going to state the obvious.  we were flirting back and fourth, like a lot. what are we supposed to do with this new found information?”

caleb looks up at you as he ponders himself, “to be honest. i was a bit more bold in the text messages because… i thought we’d never meet..” you chuckle at him, cheeks tinted in pink, “me too.” but you snap out of it. now was not the time to fall for his sexiness! OR do, either way works.

“im going to level with you. im not much for the three way couple stuff… so if you and i are gonna take whispr out of the internet then… you know.” you wag your finger at him, a playful but curious smile on your face now. caleb laughs, calming down, “yeah i… i know..”  you were not going to deal with this little girl who was his best friend, and you were going to make that very and painfully clear if you had to, and from how much caleb figured, you weren’t going to play about him. it made his heart flutter, amongst other things. you looked sexy when you were possessive.

“so, what do you want to do?” you ask after a minute of silence, caleb leans into his arm staring down at you, and you steel your nerves. those lips were calling your name, “let me ask you a better question. are you interested in me?” he smirks into the question, seeing you unravel in real time. “uhm… yes obviously.” you look away from him, your face turning red. caleb takes his opportunity to chuckle, his fingers hooking your chin and forcing you to stare at him. he leans down to get a better look at you. your eyes were locked on his as he continued, “then… we’ll carry off where we were in whispr, yeah?” 

you were just at a loss of words.

                                                          previous chapter | next chapter

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers, @mcdepressed290, @young-adult-summer, @unstablemiss, @britishfailure, @caramelizedpopcirn, @velvtcherie, @lonelylandofan , @llamabois , @i-messed-up-big-time , @mysticcollectionvoid, @iamawkwardandshy, @auraficial, @mxkvlio, @mysticcollectionvoid, @rxelarailuj, @angelwhizpers,

[missmaymay13]

home is with you - j.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

j.hughes x fem!oc | 13k

summary: jack was a patient person, and he was willing to wait as long as everlyn briar needed to realize that he was there for her.

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Quinn Hughes knew a lot about hockey.

Ask him about any game in the last decade—NHL or juniors—and he could give you a detailed play-by-play, rattle off stats like they were embedded in his DNA, and even tell you the name of the ref who made that terrible call in the second period. Hockey ran through his blood. It was his language, his rhythm, his safe place.

Academics, though? That was a different story.

It wasn't that he wasn't smart. He was just... uninterested. Unmotivated. The kind of kid who could get through most classes on charm and bare-minimum effort, skating by (pun intended) with a shrug and a smile. But junior year hit different. The coursework was harder, his travel schedule was crazier, and even Ellen—his endlessly patient, fiercely supportive mom—was starting to worry.

So she did what any mom would do: she found him help. Enter Everlyn Briar.

She was a sophomore, which at first felt weird to Quinn. A younger student tutoring him? But it took less than five minutes into their first session for him to realize Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was brilliant. The kind of person who didn't just know the answers, but understood them. Who explained things like it was no big deal, casually dropping SAT vocab like it was regular slang. She was taking AP classes in everything and somehow managing to be the captain of the school's volleyball team.

And not just on the volleyball team—she ran it. Confident, poised, competitive as hell.

Quinn didn't know people like her existed in real life.

He also didn't expect to like her.

At first, he resented the whole tutoring setup. It made him feel dumb, and if there was one thing Quinn Hughes hated, it was feeling dumb. But Everlyn had this way of making you feel like you were capable. Like you could be just as smart as her if you tried. She had an addicting personality—effortlessly cool, quick-witted, with a sense of humor that caught him off guard more than once.

And then there was her smile.

God, that smile. Bright and full of mischief, like she was constantly in on a secret she might let you in on if you were lucky enough. It was the kind of smile you couldn't forget, even if you tried.

Their tutoring sessions slowly evolved into something else. Something casual, something natural. They'd meet in the library or the back corner of the local coffee shop, but more often than not, their study sessions would end with them laughing over inside jokes, sharing stories about their teammates, or mock-roasting each other over their wildly different Spotify playlists.

Within a few months, they were inseparable.

It wasn't long before their social circles started to blur. Everlyn met Quinn's friends from the team, and he got introduced to her volleyball crew. Weekend hangouts became group events—bonfires, house parties, late-night diner runs. It was all fun and games until people started dating each other and everything got predictably messy.

Typical high school chaos.

There were breakups that forced the group to awkwardly take sides, dramatic friend group rifts, and one infamous party where someone tried to stage an "intervention" for a relationship that wasn't even official. Through it all, though, Quinn and Everlyn stayed solid. He'd show up to her games, she'd come to his. They were always seen together—heads tilted close in conversation, sharing drinks, stealing fries off each other's plates without asking.

Years would pass before either of them realized just how much those years mattered—how foundational they were. Before either of them would understand that what they built back then, in classrooms and crowded kitchens and half-lit basements, was going to follow them far beyond high school.

Because this isn't just Quinn's story.

It's Jack's too.

And for Jack Hughes, Everlyn Briar wasn't just some girl his brother used to hang out with.

She was the girl.

The one he was never supposed to fall for.

⸻ It started small.

At first, Everlyn would stay a few minutes after her tutoring sessions—just long enough to chat with Quinn before he got dragged off to practice or dinner. Then she'd linger a little longer, helping him pack up his notes, maybe sneaking in a few teasing jabs about his handwriting or his inability to remember historical dates. Eventually, Quinn started inviting her over for actual study sessions at his house.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Everlyn Briar became a regular fixture at the Hughes household.

It was Ellen's idea, really. She was over the moon about Quinn's sudden improvement in school—how he seemed lighter, less tense. His grades had gone up, but more importantly, so had his confidence. And she noticed it wasn't just the academics. Her son was happier. There was a spark in him again.

So of course, Ellen wanted to meet the girl responsible for that.

That first invitation came wrapped in the form of a casual offer: "Why don't you just stay for supper, sweetheart?" And Everlyn, who had only meant to drop off a study guide, hesitated just long enough for Ellen to smile and wave her into the kitchen like she'd already been part of the family for years.

It was so simple. So easy. So warm.

Everlyn didn't realize how much she needed that warmth until she felt it.

The Hughes house was nestled at the top of a long driveway, the kind of home that looked like it had history—scuffed baseboards, picture frames lining the hall, cleats piled by the door. It smelled like home-cooked meals and dryer sheets, and the moment she stepped inside, she could feel something shift in her chest.

There was life here. Real life.

Trophies filled the shelves—some polished and gleaming, others dusty with age. Framed photos covered the walls, capturing every phase of childhood: first goals, missing teeth, family vacations. Hockey sticks leaned against corners. A dog barked from the backyard. Laughter echoed from upstairs.

It was messy in the way that made your chest ache with comfort.

She could've cried.

Because back at her own house, it wasn't like this. Not anymore. The silence there was deafening, broken only by the sound of raised voices behind closed doors or the slam of a front door that never quite shut all the way. Her parents were in the middle of what could only be described as a war disguised as a divorce—ugly, drawn-out, venomous. And lately, Everlyn had become the easiest target.

It wasn't physical. Not exactly. But the emotional toll? That was harder to explain.

The tension followed her like smoke. Her mom was sharp with her words, her dad cold with his distance. The house was split in invisible lines—rooms she couldn't go into without a fight, conversations that ended in tears, meals that were eaten in silence. And she, caught in the middle, found herself suffocating more and more with each passing day.

So she escaped. Any chance she got.

Practice. Study halls. Library sessions that lasted until closing. Couch cushions at friends' houses. Empty locker rooms. Anywhere but home.

Which made the Hughes' house feel like a gift from the universe. An oasis.

The first person to greet her that day—besides Quinn—was a thirteen-year-old Luke Hughes, peeking cautiously from behind his older brother's shoulder. He had that awkward middle-school lankiness, all limbs and big eyes, his dark hair a little messy like he'd been running around all day. Shy but clearly curious, he gave her a wary glance, unsure of what to make of the girl standing at his front door with a backpack and a too-kind smile.

"Hey," Everlyn said softly, crouching down just a little to his height. "You must be the famous Luke. I've heard you've got a killer slapshot."

Luke blinked, then gave the tiniest, bashful nod—cheeks already a bit pink. And just like that, she'd won him over.

From then on, he was her shadow anytime she visited. Offering her cookies, showing off his hockey cards, even once letting her watch him play NHL on the Xbox. Luke Hughes was a soft, sweet soul—and he, like the rest of the family, made space for Everlyn without asking for anything in return.

Next came Ellen and Jim.

They met her with hugs, no hesitation, like she was already part of something. Ellen's warmth was maternal and immediate—offering her water, asking if she was hungry, complimenting her necklace. Jim's was quieter but genuine, his handshake firm, his smile kind. And both of them went on and on about how grateful they were to her for helping Quinn—not just with school, but with his peace of mind.

"You've brought such a light to him," Ellen had said, eyes crinkling. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

Everlyn had smiled and said thank you, but the words clung to her like armor. A light. She didn't feel like a light lately. Not with everything going on at home. But maybe, just maybe, here... she could be.

She was still soaking it all in—memorizing the faces in the photos on the walls, the way the floor creaked in certain spots, the steady hum of a home that felt alive—when the front door opened again.

And in walked Jack Hughes.

He was fifteen then. Already taller than most of the guys at school, with dark, boyish hair that curled a little at the ends and those unmistakable Hughes eyes—sharp, expressive, like they could see straight through you if he wanted to. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, cheeks a bit flushed from biking home, and there was a faint scowl on his face until he rounded the corner and saw her.

Everlyn.

His brother's friend.

The one he wasn't expecting to look like that.

Jack froze for half a second, and it was only noticeable if you were really paying attention. His mouth opened just slightly, like he was about to say something and forgot the words. His eyes did a quick sweep—face, hair, eyes, outfit. And then he recovered, tossing on that signature smirk he wore like a badge.

"Hey," he said coolly. "You must be Everlyn."

She looked up from the couch, smile blooming. "And you must be Jack. I've heard a lot about you."

"Only the good stuff, I hope."

"That depends on your definition of 'good.'"

Quinn snorted from the kitchen, and Jack rolled his eyes. But his gaze didn't leave her. Something about her pulled at him—a softness behind her confidence, something that made his usual smoothness falter just a little.

And when she smiled at him—really smiled, all teeth and light—Jack Hughes, the confident, cocky middle brother, felt his heartbeat do something stupid.

Like skip.

He'd seen her before, sure. In the hallways at school. At volleyball games he'd gone to half-heartedly with Quinn, back when she was just a name he'd heard in passing. But seeing her now, in his home, on his couch, laughing with his brothers?

She wasn't just a name anymore.

And he didn't know it yet—but this girl, this friend of his brother's with the soft voice and the sharp mind, was about to change everything.

⸻

It was subtle at first.

A lingering glance here. A too-long laugh there. The way Jack's eyes would flick toward her in a crowded room, like his brain was hardwired to track her presence no matter what else was happening.

Jack Hughes had a crush.

A real one. The kind that made your chest tighten and your thoughts trip over themselves. But this wasn't just any girl. This was Everlyn Briar. The girl who tutored his older brother. The girl who had somehow woven herself into the fabric of the Hughes home like she'd always belonged there. The girl who showed up with a smile and stayed with a purpose.

And Jack—who usually had no trouble flirting, who could talk circles around most girls his age—suddenly found himself stammering or going completely silent anytime she looked at him for too long.

He hated it.

Well, no. He didn't hate her. God, no. He hated the situation.

Because she was Quinn's friend. His tutor. His person. And there were unspoken rules about that kind of thing—lines that brothers just didn't cross. So Jack kept it cool. He played the role of younger brother, occasional background comic relief, the charming but harmless kid who just so happened to stare a little too long when she wasn't looking.

But all of that restraint unraveled a little the night Quinn decided to throw a party.

Their parents were out of town for the weekend—a rare escape for Ellen and Jim to have a weekend to themselves—and Quinn, being a senior with a newly found sense of confidence and freedom, took full advantage.

The guest list was mostly hockey friends and volleyball players, a mix of athletes and classmates that made the house feel loud and alive by 9 p.m. Jack got the nod to invite some of his own people too, a gesture from Quinn that meant more than it seemed.

Jack wasn't exactly part of the "cool" senior crowd yet, but he could hold his own. And when he found out Everlyn would be there—of course she'd be there—he felt this strange mix of nerves and excitement hum beneath his skin all day.

He played it off well. Showed up in a backwards hat and his best hoodie, dapped up his friends, cracked jokes in the kitchen while snagging handfuls of chips. But all of it—every last bit—was background noise.

Because the second Everlyn walked through the door, it was like gravity shifted.

She was wearing a soft, oversized crewneck and jeans with a rip in the knee, nothing overly flashy or dramatic. Her hair was half up, half down, effortlessly undone, and she wore that familiar look of ease and lightheartedness that made her glow in every room.

Jack could barely breathe.

She looked beautiful. Not in the "done-up for a party" way, but in the "this is just who I am" way. She laughed with her whole body, tossing her head back when one of her friends made a joke, squealing when she missed her last cup in beer pong by a half inch. Every reaction was real—genuine, unfiltered, and full of life.

And Jack?

Jack was down bad.

He nursed a red solo cup and watched her from across the room, his gaze drifting back to her like a reflex. He tried to distract himself—mingled, played a game of flip cup, even tried talking to a girl from his grade who'd clearly been waiting for him to notice her. But none of it landed.

His attention was elsewhere. Always.

And then, at some point in the night—around 1:30 a.m., when the music had dipped into mellow territory and some people had already started crashing on couches—he realized he hadn't seen Everlyn in a while.

Like, a while.

It wasn't like her to just disappear without a word, especially not from a party like this. And something about that silence scratched at the back of his brain.

So Jack set his cup down and started looking.

He did a quick sweep of the main floor—kitchen, basement, backyard. Nothing. He passed by groups of people talking, laughing, someone snoring softly under a blanket on the recliner, but no sign of her. His steps grew quieter as he crept upstairs, the noise from below fading into a dull hum.

And that's when he found her.

The door to Luke's room was cracked slightly, soft light filtering out into the hallway. Jack pushed it open just enough to peek inside—and his heart stilled.

Everlyn was curled up on the far side of Luke's twin bed, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting gently across Luke's chest. The youngest Hughes was sound asleep, face relaxed in that vulnerable way only kids have when they're completely safe. A "Fast and the Furious" movie played quietly on the TV, Vin Diesel's voice barely audible over the low rumble of cars on screen.

Jack stood frozen in the doorway.

There she was. Not at the center of the party, not surrounded by friends or attention or lights—but here. With Luke. Tucked into a quiet room, keeping him company, protecting him in the smallest, softest way.

His throat tightened.

Behind him, he heard quiet footsteps and turned to find Quinn standing there, eyes a little glassy from a few drinks but still focused.

"She's been checking on him all night," Quinn said, voice low. "Kept sneaking upstairs just to make sure he was okay. I think he was a little overwhelmed with all the noise, and she didn't want him to feel left out. Ended up tucking him in about half an hour ago, I guess."

Jack didn't say anything at first. He just watched her for a moment longer, taking in the way her brow was slightly furrowed in sleep, how her fingers were still gently curled around the blanket like she didn't even realize she'd nodded off.

"She's got a big heart," Quinn added, clapping Jack softly on the back before heading downstairs again. "We're lucky to have her around."

Yeah, Jack thought, his pulse thudding. He really was.

Because in that moment, standing in the hallway with the light from Luke's room casting a soft glow over Everlyn's sleeping face, Jack Hughes fell just a little deeper into something he couldn't name.

It wasn't just the way she looked tonight. It was the way she was. The way she made herself small to protect others. The way she made herself present when no one else remembered to be.

The way she already cared for his family like it was her own.

And for Jack Hughes, there was nothing more important than family.

So yeah. His crush? It wasn't going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever.

⸻

If Everlyn Briar had to make a list of the best days of her life, two moments would sit at the very top: Quinn's high school graduation, and the day he got drafted to the NHL.

Both days were drenched in joy, but for different reasons. Graduation felt like the end of a chapter, the beautiful culmination of everything they'd built together—study sessions, long nights, practice runs, pep talks in the hallway, inside jokes exchanged during fire drills. Draft day, though? That felt like the beginning of something. The launch of a dream.

And she was there for all of it.

She still remembered Quinn's graduation day like it was etched in sun. The weather was perfect—clear skies, a breeze just strong enough to ruffle the sea of navy blue gowns lined up in rows on the football field. Ellen was crying before the ceremony even started. Jim pretended not to be emotional, but she caught him wiping at his eyes with his sleeve more than once. Luke was the only one trying to play it cool, muttering about how boring the speeches were while secretly filming every second on his phone.

Everlyn sat with the Hughes family, sandwiched between Ellen and Luke, and beamed like it was her son crossing the stage. Her hands were sore from clapping, her cheeks aching from smiling, but she didn't care. Seeing Quinn walk across that stage, cap tilted slightly, grinning ear to ear as his name was called? That was her best friend. And she couldn't have been more proud.

That night, they went to prom together.

It wasn't romantic—not exactly. It was one of those things they'd decided months in advance, a casual promise made in between chemistry notes and late-night FaceTimes. But when the day came, and Everlyn stepped out of her car in a pastel yellow silk dress that caught the light like liquid sunshine, Jack had nearly dropped the bowl of cereal he was holding.

She was glowing. Absolutely glowing.

Quinn, to his credit, played it cool. He met her at the top of the driveway in a navy suit that matched her dress perfectly, his tie just slightly crooked, which she fixed with a teasing smile and a soft touch. Ellen took so many photos, shouting at them to get "just one more!" while Jim muttered something about missing the days when prom meant sitting on the couch with cartoons and juice boxes.

At prom, Everlyn and Quinn were the couple everyone pointed to—even if they weren't a couple at all. They danced to every song, even the slow ones. They laughed until their sides hurt, took blurry selfies, and snuck out early to get milkshakes at the diner down the street. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Quinn managed to snag a make-out session with a senior volleyball player (thanks to a little not-so-subtle wingwoman energy from Everlyn), and he spent the rest of the night grinning like he'd just scored the game-winning goal.

But the real crown jewel came a few weeks later: draft day.

Everlyn still remembered how tightly Quinn had gripped her hand that morning. They'd flown out west with the whole Hughes crew—Ellen, Jim, Jack, and Luke—and even though the energy was pure chaos, it felt like magic. The kind of day you knew would change everything.

The venue buzzed with anticipation. Reporters hovered like hawks, camera flashes strobing across the crowd. Families in tailored suits and perfectly curled hair. Players fiddling with their ties, bouncing their knees, checking their phones every five seconds.

But Quinn? He was steady. Calm. Like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Because he had.

And when Vancouver called his name—Quinn Hughes, selected seventh overall by the Vancouver Canucks—the room erupted. Ellen gasped. Jim clapped hard enough to sting. Jack yelled something indistinct, probably profane, over the roar of applause.

Everlyn?

She stood up so fast she knocked over her chair.

She threw her arms around him, and the hug they shared was the kind of thing you felt in your soul. Tight. Breathless. The kind of hug that said, we did it. That all the long nights and frustrations and growing pains were worth it. She buried her face in his shoulder and whispered, "I'm so proud of you," more times than she could count.

He hugged her back just as fiercely. "Couldn't have done it without you, Eve."

He meant it.

The hours that followed were a blur of interviews, handshakes, smiles, and congratulations. Quinn was passed around from one media outlet to the next, pulled into rooms with cameras and sponsors and flashbulbs. And in the swirl of it all, Everlyn found herself drifting toward the one person who felt just as out of place as she did.

Luke.

He was quieter than usual, maybe overwhelmed by the spotlight or just missing the familiarity of home. Either way, he stuck close to Everlyn's side, and she didn't mind one bit.

They wandered the venue together, sipping soda from plastic cups, taking photos with cardboard cutouts, watching the draft board update in real time. At one point, she let him lean his head on her shoulder, his hair slightly messy from his button-down shirt collar.

"You okay, bud?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Just... a lot."

She nodded. "I get it."

They didn't need to say much after that. Sometimes, comfort was just existing beside someone who didn't need you to explain how you were feeling. And Luke, in many ways, felt like the little brother she never had.

He'd called her "Evie" for the first time that day. Just once, slipping it in casually when she handed him a packet of Skittles from her purse.

It stuck.

And she didn't realize it then—but Jack had noticed.

He'd been across the room, getting a bottle of water, and he'd looked up just in time to see her crouched next to Luke, laughing at something he said. Her hand resting on his shoulder, eyes soft, her entire posture folded into care.

Jack hadn't said a word. Just watched.

And felt that same tight pull in his chest that had started months ago. The one that always showed up when she was near.

Because Everlyn wasn't just a part of their lives anymore.

She was their life.

And Jack Hughes was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to untangle his heart from hers.

⸻

When Quinn left for Michigan, everything shifted.

It wasn't abrupt. More like the slow fade of background music when a scene ends. His absence was a quiet hum in the Hughes house, a space that felt too big without his voice filling it. His name was still spoken daily—on calls, in casual conversation, mentioned when Luke would repeat something funny his oldest brother used to say—but the energy had changed.

And with Quinn gone, so too was Everlyn's usual reason to be around.

She didn't disappear, not completely. Luke wouldn't let her. He texted her almost every day, sent her TikToks and memes, even guilt-tripped her with sad selfies captioned "you abandoned me" until she agreed to come by. Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons became their thing—quick visits that turned into full-day hangouts, movies on the couch, post-practice runs to the smoothie shop.

But it wasn't the same. Not like it used to be.

Until Jack had an idea.

Jack Hughes had always been the sharpest of the three brothers. His brain worked fast, calculated odds like a chess master on a sugar high. And when he realized Everlyn's visits were becoming fewer and farther between, he knew he had to do something.

So, naturally, he tanked a math exam.

Not completely—just enough to raise a few parental eyebrows. He followed it up with a lazy English quiz and a conveniently "forgotten" science worksheet. By the end of the week, Ellen was concerned, Luke was suspicious, and Jack was already plotting his next move.

"I think I need help," he told his mom with carefully rehearsed sincerity. "Like... tutoring help."

Ellen blinked. "You? You've had straight A's since third grade."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "Maybe I peaked early."

Ellen didn't question it further. Within an hour, she was on the phone with Everlyn, practically begging her to step in.

And when she agreed? Jack almost jumped out of his seat in joy. Almost.

The first tutoring session was a masterclass in subtlety.

He showed up with his notebook wide open, pencil twirling between his fingers, and an expression that screamed I'm totally lost. Everlyn raised a brow the moment she saw his notes—color-coded, flawlessly organized, every assignment completed with precision.

"Okay, Einstein," she said, smirking as she slid into the chair across from him. "What exactly do you need help with?"

Jack scratched the back of his neck, doing his best impression of a sheepish student. "Literally everything."

But Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was Everlyn. She saw through him within the first ten minutes.

Especially when he started "accidentally" getting easy questions wrong, or pretending to mix up formulas he clearly had memorized. At one point, she gave him a pop quiz on vocabulary and he aced it in under a minute. His face turned the lightest shade of pink when she smiled at him afterward, tilting her head like she was onto something.

She never called him out.

Not once.

She just played along. Grinned when he fumbled a fake answer. Rolled her eyes when he exaggerated his confusion. And when the session ended, she leaned in with that same mischievous spark in her eyes and said, "By the way... we've got a home game Friday. You should come."

Jack blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, grabbing her bag. "I'll save you a seat."

He went.

And he didn't stop going after that.

Watching her play was... something else. She was electric on the court. All 5'6 of her moving with fire and finesse, jumping higher than anyone expected, hitting balls with a precision that made the crowd gasp. Jack sat in the stands with Luke, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, trying to look nonchalant while fighting the urge to stand every time she scored.

She was fierce. Fearless. Unstoppable.

It did things to him.

After her games, she'd find him outside the gym, sweaty and glowing and absolutely radiant. Sometimes she'd toss him a teasing smile, asking, "Did I impress?" like she didn't already know the answer. And he'd say something dumb like, "You were okay," just to make her roll her eyes.

He loved when she rolled her eyes at him.

In return, she started showing up to his games. Sometimes she'd sit beside Luke, sometimes she'd bring one of her friends. Once, she even wore his NTDP jersey over her sweatshirt—completely nonchalant, like it meant nothing.

It meant everything. Seeing her in the stands with his name and number on her back sent shivers down his spine. 

Jack played like he had something to prove when she was in the crowd. Moved faster. Sharper. Pushed harder. His coaches noticed, his teammates noticed. He noticed.

And God, she was really starting to know his world too. She could match Trevor's chaotic energy beat for beat, holding her own against his wildest banter. Cole Caufield called her "the team MVP" after she roasted three of them during a team dinner. They adored her. Everyone adored her.

Jack wasn't even jealous. Just in awe.

He watched her laugh with his friends, toss popcorn at Luke, joke with his mom, and still somehow make time for him—quiet moments in the car, shared glances across the room, inside jokes exchanged through nothing but a look.

They were becoming close. Real friends.

And maybe that should've been enough.

But it wasn't.

Because somewhere between the tutoring sessions and the post-game fries, Jack's feelings had spiraled into something he couldn't hide anymore. Not from himself. Not from the way his stomach flipped when she touched his arm. Not from the way his pulse picked up when she said his name a little too softly.

He was falling for her. Fast.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because she was leaving soon. Graduation was around the corner. College applications were already in, and she'd been talking about campuses in other states. Other coasts. Her life was about to expand in ways his couldn't touch yet.

And Jack?

He was just starting to feel like she saw him as more than Quinn's little brother.

So now, every laugh they shared felt a little too short. Every hug a little too brief. Every goodbye a little too heavy.

He knew the clock was ticking.

But God, if he could just freeze time for a little while longer... just a few more "tutoring"sessions, a few more late-night texts, a few more games where she wore his name on her back...

Maybe he could find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Before it was too late.

⸻

She was gone now.

Off chasing sunshine in California, trading small-town hallways for sprawling palm trees and crowded lecture halls. UCLA looked good on Everlyn—of course it did. Top volleyball program. Dream business school. A campus that buzzed with potential. It was everything she had worked for, everything she deserved.

But for Jack Hughes?

It felt like something had been hollowed out of him the moment she left.

He didn't say goodbye like he should have. Not really. He gave her one last hug, half-sincere, half-guarded, a little too quick. He told her to have fun. She promised to keep in touch. She didn't look back when she got in the car.

And then she was gone.

Jack tried to pretend it didn't affect him. He threw himself into hockey, training harder than ever in preparation for his draft year. He focused on speed, strength, footwork—anything to keep his mind off the ache that curled around his ribs every time he caught a glimpse of her old volleyball hoodie in the laundry room.

But autopilot only lasted so long.

Luke was quieter too. Less sunshine, more shadow. He didn't say it out loud, but Jack could feel it—Everlyn's absence hung in the Hughes house like a missing puzzle piece. Meals were quieter. Weekend movie nights didn't feel the same. Even Ellen had made a comment once, half-joking, "I miss our fourth child."

Jack missed her in ways he didn't have words for. Missed the way she used to steal fries off his plate. The way her laugh bounced down the stairs before she did. The way she made everything—everyone—feel lighter.

And then came Thanksgiving.

Quinn was coming home from Michigan. That was expected. The house had been buzzing with preparations all week—Ellen bustling through the kitchen, Jim dusting off the leaf for the dining room table, Luke threatening to eat the pie before it was even baked. Jack was looking forward to it, sure. But even the idea of a full Hughes reunion couldn't quite lift the haze that had settled in his chest since September.

Until the door opened.

And everything stopped.

It was Quinn standing there, his suitcase by his side, a trimmed beard on his jaw that made him look more like a man than a teenager. He grinned wide, stepping into the warmth of the house, pulling Luke into a one-armed hug.

But Jack barely registered his brother's return.

Because behind Quinn, suitcase in hand, stood Everlyn.

Her hair was longer now, sun-kissed and wavy in a way that only California could do. She wore an oversized hoodie with her school's logo on the sleeve and that same soft expression she always had when she was trying not to cry from happiness.

Time froze.

And then it crashed into motion.

Quinn stepped aside just in time for Everlyn to drop her bag and launch herself into Jack's arms.

"You're here," he whispered into her shoulder, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

"Of course I'm here," she murmured back. "Where else would I be?"

She smelled like vanilla and travel and something achingly familiar. Jack didn't let himself hold her for more than a second too long—but God, did he want to.

Then came Luke, barreling down the stairs like he'd been summoned by fate itself. "EVE!"

She barely had time to turn before he was lifting her off the ground, arms wrapped tight around her waist.

"Missed you so much," he blurted, voice muffled against her hoodie. "You're not allowed to leave again. I'm serious. I'll hide your passport. I'll chain your suitcase to the water heater."

She laughed, and something in the house shifted back into place.

Home.

That's what she was. What she had always been.

Jack stood back and watched her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She still looked at him the same way—fond, soft, maybe a little amused. And he'd gotten better at hiding how her gaze lit a fire under his skin. Better at swallowing the lump that rose in his throat when she was near.

She knew, of course.

Of course she knew.

She was Everlyn Briar. Too observant. Too intuitive. She could solve calculus in her head and read body language like a second language. Jack's not-so-subtle stares. The way he hovered near her but never quite reached. The way he smiled too hard when she was around.

And Quinn? He knew too. Jack could feel it in the sideways glances, the way his older brother's smirk would twitch upward anytime Jack so much as offered to get Eve a drink.

But no one said anything.

Because Jack never said anything.

And maybe that's why nothing ever happened.

The weekend was a blur of traditions and warmth. They ran the annual turkey trot that morning—Jack and Luke sprinting ahead like maniacs, Everlyn laughing breathlessly as she tried to keep up. They came home to Ellen's legendary spread: turkey so tender it fell apart, stuffing soaked in butter, mashed potatoes Jack would defend with his life.

It was loud. It was chaotic. It was perfect.

And when the night wound down, it felt almost scripted.

Just like old times, Everlyn slipped upstairs after dessert, claiming she was "just checking on Luke." And just like always, no one questioned it. She found him curled up in bed with the newest Fast and Furious playing, already half-asleep.

She climbed in beside him without a second thought.

Jack found them later, lights dimmed, movie credits rolling. Luke snoring softly. Everlyn curled against him, one hand draped protectively over her like Luke was afraid she would disappear if he let go. 

It made his heart ache in ways he didn't know how to name.

Because for the first time in months, everyone was home.

Everyone.

And still, something about her felt impossibly far away.

⸻

Time had a strange way of looping in on itself.

One minute, she was cheering for Quinn on his draft day, wiping away tears in between interviews and snapshots, her dress wrinkled from hugging everyone in sight. And then—just like that—it was years later, and she was back in that familiar whirlwind. Only this time, it wasn't Quinn's name echoing through the arena.

It was Luke's.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. Really, she had. She made it halfway through the morning with dry eyes and a steady smile. But the second his name was called—Luke Hughes, drafted to the New Jersey Devils—it was over.

A mess. A disaster, honestly.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, breath catching in her throat, trying desperately not to smudge the mascara she'd put on with care. Josh Norris had leaned over halfway through the ceremony, gently tapping her shoulder with a tissue and whispering, "Don't worry, he's the last Hughes to be drafted so you won't have to do this all over again next year."

She laughed through her tears.

Because this moment—this—was sacred.

Luke was beaming next to his buzzing brothers up front, his hands shaking just slightly as he held up his new jersey. And her heart swelled with something fierce and maternal, the same way it had when he was thirteen and scared to come downstairs to a party, when she tucked him in during Fast & Furious marathons, when he looked at her like she hung the stars just for him.

He was grown now. Taller. Broader. More confident. He was mature. Luke Hughes was no longer the little boy she once met. 

He was a man now.

But he'd still held her hand before the draft started.

Still leaned into her shoulder when the nerves kicked in.

Still whispered, "I'm glad you're here," like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She had always been a safe space for him. And she always would be.

⸻

Jack had changed too.

Not overnight. Not all at once. But the slow kind of change that creeps in between seasons. Years had passed. His name had been called. His life had launched in ways most people only dreamed about.

And with every new city, every new headline, every new spotlight—he still thought about her.

They stayed in touch. Little messages. Summer meet-ups. Inside jokes exchanged over text. But distance made it easier to push those feelings away. He had flings, distractions, moments of temporary interest. He convinced himself it had passed.

That what he felt for her was just nostalgia.

Until she came back.

She graduated from UCLA in 2022—business degree, communications minor, a resumé that practically glittered. And then, in the kind of twist only the universe could write, she landed her first job in New Jersey. A start-up company. PR and account management. Fast-paced. Groundbreaking. Local.

Jack didn't find out until a week after she moved in.

He meant to message her first. He really did. But time slipped, and she was adjusting, and he didn't want to seem overeager.

Until she received a package at her new apartment. No note. No message. Just a red New Jersey Devils jersey—his jersey—and two tickets to their home opener.

He knew she'd understand.

And she did.

⸻

That night, she walked into the Prudential Center and it felt like the world had hit rewind. Only this time, the crowd was bigger. Louder. Older. And Jack? Jack wasn't a boy anymore.

He was Jack Hughes now.

Franchise face. Highlight reel superstar.

And the second she saw him skate out onto the ice, she felt her heart stop for a beat.

Because he wasn't the lanky, backwards-hat-wearing teenager who used to fake bad grades just to sit beside her. He was taller now. Broader. His movements were sharp, calculated. Every stride held purpose. The crowd roared and chanted his name when he touched the puck. He didn't just play hockey. He commanded it.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

And he?

He felt her the second she stepped into the arena.

Didn't see her at first. But he felt her. Like gravity.

After the win, he found her in the tunnel. Same smile. Same soft eyes. But different now. Grown. Glowing.

"Hey, stranger," she said, tugging lightly at the jersey he'd sent.

He laughed, that same dopey grin breaking across his face. "Looks better on you."

They hugged—longer than they should have. He smelled like ice and sweat and home. And when they pulled back, something unspoken lingered in the air between them. A pause. A beat. Something that had never quite gone away.

They went out for drinks after, just the two of them. A quiet bar, warm lights, quiet music humming in the background. He looked different here too. Not just older—steadier. The way he carried himself, the way he ordered her drink without asking, the way he leaned back and watched her talk like he was cataloging every word.

He wasn't cocky. Just... sure of himself.

It was attractive. She wouldn't lie.

And Jack? Jack felt like he had been punched in the chest.

Because she was even more beautiful now. Effortlessly radiant. Still that same warmth, still that same grace. But there was something new too—something confident, something grown.

He kept staring at her. In the flicker of candlelight, with her hand curled around her glass and her lips curved in that same soft smile, Jack felt like he was sixteen all over again.

Breathless.

Totally wrecked.

Totally in love.

And it scared the hell out of him.

⸻

They made it a tradition—weekly coffee runs, dinner or drinks after games, late-night walks through the city. She fit into his world like she always had. Seamlessly.

She met the team. Jesper pulled her into a bear hug like they hadn't missed a day. Dawson was polite and immediately impressed. And Nico? Nico looked like he was about to make a move—until he caught Jack watching her.

Just one look.

That's all it took.

No one made a move after that. No one had to.

Because it was obvious.

She was Jack's girl.

Maybe not officially.

Maybe not yet.

But everyone knew.

Especially him.

⸻

It started the way it always did—with a ticket.

Every home game, like clockwork, Jack left two tickets for Everlyn at will call. No message. No pressure. Just a quiet gesture, a ritual of theirs that said you're welcome here. Always. And she'd used the first one nearly every time.

But the second?

She never had. Until now.

Jack's world tilted the second he saw her walk through the tunnel with someone else by her side.

He was tall. Blonde. Crisp linen shirt. One of those designer watches that practically screamed my dad plays golf with your CEO. The kind of guy you'd expect to see ordering a $19 martini and not blinking. His name was Jordan, and he shook Jack's hand with the kind of over-firm grip that tried too hard to say something.

Jack didn't flinch, but God, he wanted to.

Jordan asked questions like he was running an interview—"How's the ice this season? Do you ever get recognized on the street?"—and Jack answered through clenched teeth, polite but cold. He watched as Jordan rested a hand on Everlyn's back, too casual, too familiar. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Still, Jack put on the happy face.

Because that's what he did. He wasn't going to ruin anything for her—not now, not ever. She looked happy. And if that was real... well, then Jack could deal with it. He'd spent years pushing those feelings to the back of his mind. What was a few more months?

But it was a few more months.

And Jordan didn't go anywhere.

He became a fixture. At games. At dinners. Tagging along to post-game drinks, always ordering for the table like he knew what everyone wanted. Everlyn still made time for Jack, but it was different now. Tighter. More filtered. Coffee dates became his favorite part of the week—not because they were exciting, but because they were just her. No Jordan. No compromise.

Just them.

Just how he liked it.

⸻

The lake house in Michigan was supposed to be a sanctuary.

It always had been. A safe haven carved into the summers. A place where the Hughes brothers could take a breath, train hard, play harder, and be surrounded by the people who made the noise feel quiet.

It was Quinn's idea to bring everyone together that summer—an annual tradition, their own off-season camp that just so happened to include boats, beers, and more competitive tubing than anyone should legally survive.

The house buzzed with energy. Quinn had his old teammates in town—Josh and Dalton Norris, all heart and chaos. Luke brought his crew from Michigan—Dylan Duke, Mark Estapa, Ethan Edwards, each of them slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of the house. Jack, of course, had Trevor and Turcs, whose personalities were basically caffeine personified.

And Everlyn?

She brought Jordan.

The mood shifted the second they arrived. Jordan barely greeted anyone before making a beeline for the deck, muttering something about needing to "take it easy" after the drive. The Hughes boys watched Eve with subtle worry, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the way she scanned the room like she was looking for permission to be herself again.

They tried to bring her in. Quinn cracked a beer and started loading up the boat. Jack blasted a playlist of her favorite cheesy country songs. Luke ran to get the rope for tubing.

"Come on," Quinn called out, tossing her a life jacket with a grin. "Let's get out there."

She smiled—small, tight—but before she could step forward, Jordan touched her wrist.

"You don't have to go, babe. I was hoping we could chill here, have a drink or two. You've been talking about relaxing all week."

The way he said it wasn't cruel. Just expectant.

And Everlyn, as always, folded.

"Yeah," she said, her voice barely above the waves. "That sounds nice."

She took the jacket off. Handed it back to Quinn. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

The brothers all exchanged a look.

Jordan hadn't just dimmed her light—he was stomping it out, slowly.

⸻

Quinn didn't wait long.

As soon as Jordan disappeared back to Jersey, he pulled Everlyn aside. They slipped down the dock together, away from the buzz of the house and the music, until it was just the lapping of the water and the heaviness of unspoken words.

He didn't sugarcoat it.

"You're not okay," he said.

She froze. "Quinn..."

"You don't laugh the same. You don't light up the way you used to. I watched you talk yourself out of joining the boat like you were doing him a favor for existing."

She blinked hard. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not. He's not your partner, Eve. He's your leash."

That broke her.

Her lip trembled. She turned away for a second like she could hide it, but Quinn stepped forward, pulled her into a hug, and the truth spilled out like water over a dam.

It was like this in Jersey. Jordan always had a reason why she shouldn't go out. Why she should stay in. He didn't trust the hockey scene. Didn't like her independence. The lake house made him uncomfortable. Her made him uncomfortable.

Quinn listened, jaw clenched.

"You don't deserve this," he said firmly. "You never did. You're allowed to be loved out loud, Everlyn. Not hidden. Not controlled."

She cried. God, she cried.

But when she went to bed that night, her decision was already made.

⸻

The next morning, she called Jordan.

She ended it. Direct. No stalling. No soft exit.

He didn't take it well.

He accused her—accused her of having feelings for one of the Hughes boys. "It's always been one of them, hasn't it? I should've known the second you made me come to this dumb lake house."

He hung up before she could say anything back.

And it hurt. It did. She was human, after all.

But she walked out onto the dock not five minutes later, barefoot, hoodie over her bikini, and looked out at the water where Jack and Trevor were laughing on the boat. The sun was shining. The breeze was warm. Luke waved at her from the deck, and Quinn handed her a beer with a proud smirk.

She was home.

And this time, there was no one telling her she couldn't enjoy it.

⸻

Jack couldn't stand it anymore.

Everlyn was smiling again, sure—but not the way she used to. Her laugh was a little quieter, her jokes a little softer, like she was afraid to take up too much space. She still had that spark, but it flickered instead of burned, like someone had dimmed her and walked away.

And Jack? Jack wanted to reignite her.

So he made it his mission to bring her back to life—one small act at a time.

He started with breakfast.

She always loved pancakes. He remembered that. Waffles were fine, but pancakes? Pancakes made her eyes light up. So every morning, when someone inevitably asked what to make for the house, Jack was the first to say it:

"Pancakes. Definitely."

He'd sneak her the last piece of bacon when no one was looking, tucking it onto her plate with a smirk. He'd always save her a seat next to him. And when the kitchen got too loud or crowded, he'd silently pass her the syrup like it was their secret language.

He got up early now, before the sun even stretched across the lake, because he knew she liked her morning runs. He'd tie his shoes and jog beside her, matching her pace, letting her pick the music. They didn't talk much—didn't need to. Just ran side by side, feet hitting the dirt road in quiet rhythm, breaths syncing up like clockwork.

He volunteered for errands now too. Grocery runs. Beer pick-ups. Ice refills.

"I'll go," he'd say casually. "Eve, wanna come?"

She always did.

They'd play music too loud in the car. Race to find the weirdest flavor of chips in the store. Argue over the right ratio of peanut butter to chocolate. He'd lean into her cart, throw in random things just to make her laugh. Her smile was starting to come back, slowly, piece by piece.

And Jack? Jack was falling all over again.

⸻

The fire crackled as the night crept in.

They'd spent all day out on the boat—tubing, flipping off docks, laughing until their stomachs hurt. By the time the sun dipped below the trees, everyone was sun-drenched, half-tipsy, and high on that unbeatable summer haze.

So naturally, they circled the fire pit.

Everyone gathered on the chairs or sprawled out on blankets, drinks in hand, cheeks still flushed from the sun. The playlist was low in the background, country twang giving way to soft indie beats. Someone tossed another log onto the fire, and the stories began.

First came the classics—Quinn's worst playoff beard attempts, Trevor's infamous grocery store prank, Jack's rookie year mishaps. Then came Luke's awkward high school phase, complete with dramatic reenactments of him failing to talk to girls at school dances.

Luke rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yeah? Well you did the exact same thing when you first met Eve."

Everyone paused.

"You couldn't even sit next to her at dinner for months," Luke went on, completely unbothered. "Because you had such a massive crush on her."

Jack felt the color drain from his face, then immediately return with a vengeance.

The fire masked most of it, but the way his ears burned gave him away.

"OHHHH," Turc and Zegras chorused at the same time. "NO WAY."

Jack laughed a little too hard, trying to brush it off. "That's such a lie, Luke. C'mon."

But then Eve turned toward him, eyes soft, a smile creeping onto her lips. She looked at Quinn first—he gave a knowing nod—and then gently placed her hand on Jack's back.

"It's okay, Jack," she said sweetly. "I thought it was cute. But you were really bad at hiding it."

Dead. He was dead.

"You knew?" Jack asked, face frozen in panic.

"Of course I knew," she said with a small laugh. "I've always known."

And as if that wasn't enough to end him entirely, Ellen strolled out of the house with a tray of cookies and chimed in with perfect timing:

"Oh, Jack. Everyone knew."

The chorus of "OOOOHHHHH!" exploded around the fire.

Trevor nearly fell off his chair. Quinn tossed a marshmallow at Jack's head. Luke looked smug as hell. Jack buried his face in his hands, muttering something about never showing his face again.

It was harmless. All in good fun.

But the second the teasing died down and the yawns started, people began peeling off into bedrooms, one by one. The lake grew quieter, the fire dimming to embers.

And Jack stayed behind.

⸻

He sat there alone, elbows on knees, head tilted back to watch the stars. The air was still warm, but the night felt heavy in a way that pressed on his chest.

She knew. This whole time. He'd spent years hiding feelings he thought would ruin everything—only to find out that she'd seen them from the start.

And she hadn't run. She hadn't pushed him away.

She thought it was cute.

"God," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot."

Then came the soft sound of feet on grass.

A blanket settled across his shoulders. A familiar head rested gently against his own.

He looked down and saw her—Everlyn, curled into his side, wrapped in the same blanket, her cheek against his shoulder. Barefaced, makeup long gone, hoodie pulled over her knees.

"Don't worry about it, Jacky," she whispered. "I thought it was adorable. I thought you were adorable."

His heart flat-out stopped.

She thought he was cute too.

He blinked, eyes wide, trying to process what those words meant. What this meant. Her voice was low and sleepy, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

She hadn't said it to tease him. She meant it.

Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, letting her warmth melt into his side. She didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just sighed and settled in.

His hand rested at the small of her back, thumb brushing the fabric of her hoodie. His heart was racing.

She always took care of them—of everyone. Always made sure Luke had what he needed, that Quinn had someone to ground him, that Jack didn't feel invisible. She was the glue, the safety net, the one who never let herself fall until she knew they were all okay.

And the thought that she had spent so long dimming herself for someone who couldn't see her? Who wouldn't see her?

It made Jack's jaw clench.

He'd been there. Right there. And he hadn't stepped in. Hadn't spoken up. He'd let her walk through that alone because he was too scared of what it would mean for him.

Never again.

Not after this.

⸻

Things had found their rhythm again.

Back in Jersey, back in their bubble, back in that comfortable hum of familiarity that made every day feel like a deep breath. But this time, there was something more. Something better.

Because now Luke was here too.

Everlyn had 2 out of 3 Hughes boys back under one roof, and it was like someone had finally returned the missing pieces of her soul. She hadn't realized how lonely she'd been until her days were filled again—trips to the rink, late-night Mario Kart tournaments, homemade pasta nights where Jack burned the garlic bread and Luke put entirely too much cheese in the sauce.

It was chaos. It was home.

They shared a three-bedroom apartment in Hoboken with a view of the skyline and a couch that had seen more naps than conversations. When they signed the lease, Luke had casually mentioned the third room being for "hockey gear or guests," but they all knew the truth.

That room was hers.

She didn't officially live there. Not on paper. But she might as well have. Her stuff was in the drawers. Her favorite cereal was on the shelf. Her slippers were by the door. Half her wardrobe was draped across the back of the desk chair. She came and went freely, sometimes staying a night, sometimes staying a week, no one ever asking when she'd be back—because they already knew.

That room would always be waiting.

It was one of the few places in the world where she never had to ask if she belonged.

⸻

One night, she was actually home in her own apartment—a rare occurrence, considering how often she found herself curled up on the Hughes' couch with a blanket and a mug of something warm. She had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in her comfiest robe, hair twisted up in a towel, when her phone rang.

Quinn.

It started with the usual—how was your day, did you eat, how's the new campaign going, tell Luke to call his mother. But somewhere between casual updates and light teasing, the conversation shifted. Deepened. As it always did with Quinn, eventually.

"I've been thinking about... Jordan," she admitted quietly, eyes focused on the ceiling.

Quinn didn't interrupt. Just waited.

"I just—I feel stupid," she said. "I let him control so much. I let him talk me out of things I loved. I let him make me feel small. And I knew better. I always knew better."

"Evie."

His voice was soft. Steady.

"You're not stupid. You're human. And you left. That's the hard part. You did it."

She swallowed. "It still makes me feel like I lost a year of myself."

"You didn't lose it," he said. "You reclaimed it. One day at a time."

There was a long silence.

Then, like it was nothing at all, Quinn added: "It was nice of Jack to make you smiling his top priority this summer."

Her heart paused.

She sat up a little straighter, eyebrows tugging together. "What?"

"Jack," Quinn repeated. "It was nice of him. To make sure you smiled again."

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her thoughts were caught in a whirl—memories of pancakes, early morning runs, gas station trips, firelight laughter. The way Jack always showed up in exactly the way she needed.

Quinn continued, voice low and casual.

"He's a nice guy."

Everlyn narrowed her eyes. "I know that, Quinn. I grew up with him."

"No," Quinn said, and this time, his voice had a different weight to it. A quiet emphasis.

"I mean... he's nice."

She stilled.

It was such a simple word. But the way he said it—the subtle dip in tone, the almost affectionate cadence—shifted the meaning entirely.

It wasn't just about kindness. It was about care. The kind of nice that went deeper than polite gestures and well-mannered smiles. It was the kind that showed up when you needed it. The kind that held space without asking for anything in return.

Jack was nice.

He was thoughtful in a way most people weren't. Protective without being possessive. Gentle in a way that made you feel safe. He was the kind of man who made sure everyone else had what they needed before taking anything for himself. He remembered your favorite things and brought them home without saying a word. He loved quietly—but completely.

And suddenly, it hit her:

Jack had always been like that.

With her.

She hung up the call shortly after, claiming she was tired. But sleep never came easy that night.

She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Quinn's words echoing like ripples in her chest.

He's nice.

Jack, who always made sure her coffee was right.

Jack, who checked her tires when it snowed.

Jack, who gave her space when she needed it, and warmth when she didn't know she did.

Jack, who never stopped showing up.

She turned her head, looking at the empty side of her bed.

And she thought: Am I crazy?

Was she insane for even considering it? For letting her thoughts wander into dangerous territory? For entertaining the possibility that maybe—just maybe—the boy she'd grown up with, the one who had waited and waited without ever saying it out loud, could be the one she was supposed to see all along?

She rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow to her chest, eyes heavy with questions.

What if she ruined it?

What if she broke the family that saved her?

And worse... what if he didn't feel the same anymore?

What if she had waited too long?

⸻

The annual charity gala had always been part of the routine.

One of those must-attend events on the Devils' calendar. Glitz, glam, donors, handshakes, perfectly staged photo ops—and beneath all that, a chance to raise money for good causes. Jack had done a few now. Eve had come with him to the last one, and the arrangement had always been easy. Casual. Fun.

This year? Different.

She could feel it. In her chest. In her stomach. In the way she stood a little too long in front of the mirror trying to decide between earrings. It had started subtly—just a thought, a whisper of a feeling—but after that conversation with Quinn, it was like a switch had flipped.

She was aware now. Hyper-aware. Of how Jack looked at her. Of how he always waited for her to walk through the door first. Of how he always held her things, brought her snacks, fixed her laces when she wore shoes with ties. Things he'd always done... but things that now screamed louder.

He was nice. But not just that. Not anymore.

He was steady. Thoughtful. Quietly romantic in ways that weren't about flowers or fanfare—but about presence. Constant, unwavering presence.

And for the first time, she wondered what it meant that he never expected anything in return.

⸻

They were supposed to go as a trio—her, Jack, and Luke. But then Luke had the audacity to fall in love and get himself a girlfriend, leaving Everlyn to go solo with Jack. She'd teased him about it for a full week, but truthfully... it made her nervous.

This wasn't just another event. Not this time.

The lead-up felt different. More intimate. Jack had taken her shopping, trailing behind her in boutiques, giving honest feedback with that same crooked grin. He didn't complain once, even when she tried on twelve different dresses and only narrowed it down to two. He just watched. Waited. Carried her purse and snacks and made sure she didn't talk herself out of something she loved.

They picked her gown together.

A maroon silk number that hugged her curves and dipped just low enough to be elegant without being too much. It made her skin glow. It made his mouth go dry.

She said yes to it when he whispered, "That's the one," with a look in his eyes that stayed with her all night.

⸻

The day of the gala, Everlyn turned their shared space into her own personal glam studio. She spread her makeup across the bathroom counter, curled her hair in sections, and took deep, grounding breaths every few minutes to keep from spiraling into full-on nerves.

It didn't help that Jack was being Jack.

Bringing her little snacks every hour like clockwork.

A granola bar. A handful of grapes. A pack of those crackers she loved from the bodega.

He kept her water bottle full, placing it within reach like it was part of the process. "Drink," he'd remind her with a little tap on the shoulder. "No dehydration meltdowns today."

She couldn't help but smile at him. He was in sweats and a hoodie, hair tousled, lounging on the couch while she transformed herself into someone worthy of red carpets.

She didn't know it, but Jack was suffering.

He kept stealing glances through the half-open door, catching flashes of her bare shoulders, the soft shape of her face under golden bathroom light. She was already stunning, and she wasn't even done yet.

When she finally stepped out—hair swept into a soft updo, makeup glowing, maroon gown clinging in all the right places—Jack stopped breathing.

No exaggeration.

She walked into the living room and time froze.

Luke was the first to recover, standing up with a big smile. "Whoa. You look incredible, Eve."

She smiled, smoothing her dress down nervously. "Thanks, Lukey."

Jack?

He was just standing there, mouth slightly open, staring like he'd never seen a woman before.

Because he hadn't. Not like this.

This wasn't just Everlyn, his best friend, the girl who made pancakes and knew how he liked his coffee. This was Everlyn, the woman. Powerful. Elegant. Ethereal.

Maroon and gold and glowing from the inside out.

He stepped forward slowly, all black tux hugging him perfectly—hair freshly cut and styled, thanks to her insistence, and now gelled into something polished but still him.

"You..." he finally managed, voice rough. "You look unreal."

Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, the noise of the apartment fading into silence.

"I had help," she said softly, nodding toward him. "You picked the dress, remember?"

"Still," he murmured. "Doesn't feel real."

And the way he looked at her then?

It was reverent.

Not hungry. Not lustful. Just... soft. In awe.

Like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And maybe she was.

⸻

The gala started the same as every other year.

Bright lights. Sparkling gowns. Clinking glasses. Jack and Everlyn moved through the crowd like they always had—effortlessly side by side. He guided her gently through the sea of donors and sponsors, a hand resting on the small of her back like he'd always belonged there.

But this time... that simple touch felt different.

It was warm. Steady. Firm in a way that made her feel held—not just escorted. Not just shown off.

Protected.

And Everlyn couldn't stop thinking about it.

Jack chatted easily, charming everyone as usual, but her body was attuned to him. The whisper of his palm. The careful way he shifted her gently toward conversations. The pride in his voice when he introduced her as his date—even if it was unspoken, unofficial.

She didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Because every time she looked at him tonight, all she could hear was Quinn's voice in her head.

He's nice.

Not just nice. Jack Hughes nice. The kind of nice that meant pancakes in the morning and water bottles filled without asking. The kind that stood beside you silently until you were ready to speak.

And right now, he was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time—even though he'd always seen her.

⸻

The DJ opened the floor for slow dances, and Jack didn't hesitate.

He turned to her with a soft, crooked smile. "Come on."

They'd danced together before. Plenty of times. It had never meant anything before. But now? As they found their spot on the dance floor, facing each other, hands tentatively finding their place—it meant everything.

The music hummed low, a soft melody that wrapped around them like a secret. Her hand slipped into his, the other resting on his shoulder. Jack's free arm slid around her waist with quiet confidence.

And then... stillness.

They were swaying. They were dancing. But all Jack could focus on was the way Everlyn was looking at him.

Intensely. Softly. Like she was searching for something and finding it in his face.

He studied her—tried to decode it. Her eyes were locked on his like she couldn't look away. And for the first time in all the years he'd known her, he realized she was finally seeing him back.

"What's on your mind, Evie?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.

She didn't answer.

She just kept looking at him. Drinking him in. Her mind was running wild—flashing through every moment that had led them here.

The shy dinners when he couldn't look her in the eye. The fake bad grades. The way he always showed up. Every summer spent putting her first. Every little thing she'd brushed off as "just Jack being Jack."

But now she understood.

He'd been in love with her this whole time.

And she'd missed it.

She swallowed, breath hitching. "You," she said softly.

Jack blinked. "Me?"

"I can't stop thinking about you."

He stared, stunned. Heart leaping. Breath catching. He scanned her face again and again, like he needed confirmation that this was real—that she was real.

And then it hit him.

The look in her eyes.

The one he'd been wearing for years.

She had it now. That open, unfiltered, aching gaze that he used to hide behind smirks and excuses. She was seeing him—really, truly seeing him—and God, it made his chest burn.

The song ended, but Jack didn't hear the music stop. The room disappeared. His grip on her hand tightened as the MC's voice faded into the background.

They returned to their table, but Jack couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe.

He was spinning.

Eve sat beside him, her hand resting on top of his. It wasn't new. Not really. But tonight, it was loaded. Charged. Different.

Jack needed air.

⸻

He slipped out without a word and found himself on the rooftop.

The city stretched beneath him, lights flickering, the hum of cars far below. He paced, hand tugging at the collar of his tux, heart pounding out of rhythm.

He was scared. Not of her—but of hope.

Because this was everything he wanted.

And that's when he heard it.

The door opened with a soft click.

He turned—and there she was.

Glistening in moonlight. Her maroon gown catching the breeze. Her updo slightly loosened from the night. Her eyes... locked on his.

They didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

The air between them was thick with unsaid things. It wasn't silence. It was a conversation without words. A thousand unspoken truths floating between them like stars.

Jack looked at her like she held the answers to questions he hadn't dared ask. And Everlyn looked at him like she finally, finally understood what was right in front of her.

And then—they ran.

No hesitation. No overthinking. Just gravity.

They met in the middle. Arms around each other. Breathless. Shaking.

Their foreheads pressed together. Their hands clung tight.

"Jack..." she whispered, barely breathing.

He closed his eyes, voice cracking. "I know, Everlyn... I know."

And then—he kissed her.

Years of waiting, of wondering, of almosts and maybes—gone.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't polished. But it was everything. His hands clung to her waist like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Her hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks like she was memorizing the feel of him.

The city roared beneath them.

But up there, on that rooftop, it was silent.

Just two hearts, finally meeting in the middle.

Just two souls, saying what words never could.

⸻

It had been over a year since that night on the rooftop.

Since the city went quiet, and Everlyn stopped running, and Jack finally stopped waiting.

Since the moment their hearts collided in the most certain kind of way—the kind that didn't need promises made with words, because it was all written in the way they looked at each other.

Since then, nothing had been the same.

And yet—everything felt like home.

Every morning, Jack woke up with that same quiet awe he'd had since he was fifteen. The way she hummed while brushing her teeth. The way she'd press her forehead to his before leaving for work. The way she poured her love into everything around her without hesitation or fear.

Every day, he fell harder. Every day, he chose her again.

And Everlyn? She felt like she'd finally exhaled.

Jack Hughes was steady. Warm. Deeply kind in the ways no one else got to see. And he loved her in a way that didn't demand attention—but deserved every bit of it. There was no show, no need for validation. Just him. Quietly hers.

They had made a life together. Not flashy. Not perfect. But theirs.

⸻

It was summer again.

Which meant one thing: the Hughes Lake House was alive.

It was tradition at this point. Offseason hit, and the boys flocked to Michigan like it was a pilgrimage. Quinn was already there, helping Ellen prep bedrooms. Luke had brought a handful of friends from around the league—Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith had become the wide-eyed younger brothers of the group overnight. The Tkachuk brothers had showed up in full chaos mode. And Jack had pulled together the old NTDP gang, making it feel like high school and the NHL were blending into one summer-long sleepover.

The lake house was laughter. Inside jokes. The smell of sunscreen and grilled food and dock water. The soundtrack was country music, clinking beers, and the occasional "WHO let Matthew drive the boat?!"

For the rookies, it was a dream. For the veterans, it was therapy.

And for Everlyn?

It was heaven.

She had her hands full—braiding wet hair, making sure no one left without sunscreen, yelling across the dock to make sure Macklin and Will weren't about to snap their necks trying new wakeboard tricks.

She was the same Eve she'd always been—loving and giving, with open arms and no limit to the space in her heart. She even tucked the rookies in like she had done for Luke all those years ago. Whispering reminders in the dark like,

"You don't have to lose who you are to belong here." "If you can't be yourself with someone, that's not someone worth staying for."

Words she'd once needed herself.

⸻

Jack stood at the door that night, watching her speak to Macklin and Will.

She was seated cross-legged on the living room floor, her maroon hoodie slipping off one shoulder, still in her swimsuit from earlier. Her voice was soft. Reassuring. Patient.

Jack felt his chest ache.

Because God, he loved her.

More than he'd ever loved anything in his life.

She was light. She was grace. And somehow—she was his.

⸻

He found Quinn on the back deck not long after. The moonlight danced across the lake in silver ripples. The sound of crickets filled the quiet. Jack stepped beside him, hands in his pockets, heart full.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Until Jack broke the silence.

"She's... she's really..."

"I know," Quinn interrupted, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I know, Jack."

He turned toward him, eyes warm. "I'm so happy for you two. I always knew. But seeing it? It's different. It's real."

Jack laughed softly, almost shy.

"I have it picked out, you know..."

Quinn blinked. "What?"

Jack looked down. Kicked the toe of his shoe against the deck.

"The ring. I got it. Not for now. I want to wait a little longer, but... I just know. She's it. She's always been it. And I got it early as a promise. A vow. For when I'm ready. For when she's ready."

Quinn just stared at him. Then stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

It wasn't long. Wasn't loud.

But it was everything.

Two brothers, standing under a sky they grew up beneath, holding the future in their arms.

Inside, Eve stood in the kitchen, sipping from a mug of tea. She looked around at the house filled with laughter, light, and people she loved.

And her eyes found Jack through the window.

He was looking back at her.

And somehow, she knew.

[florawrites-blog]

Our way of making up

-Making up with enhypen members after a argument

(side note: I learnt new vocabs so needed to use them)

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The night had settled in, casting long shadows across the apartment as you sat on the couch, arms crossed, your mind still replaying the argument you had with Heeseung. It had been hours since he stormed out, needing space, and your pride wouldn’t let you be the one to reach out first. You told yourself he’d come back eventually, that he just needed time to cool off.

But as the minutes turned into hours, a gnawing sense of unease started creeping in. The once comforting silence of the apartment now felt suffocating, and every little sound seemed amplified. The clock ticking on the wall, the creak of the floorboards, and then… something else. A noise outside, subtle at first but growing louder, closer. Your heart rate quickened, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be out there.

What if it’s a thief? you thought, your anxiety spiking. Alone in the apartment, the fear was almost tangible, wrapping around you like a cold blanket. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself that you were being paranoid, that it was probably just the wind or an animal. But then, the noise came again, clearer this time, and much closer.

Your breath hitched, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Heeseung should have been back by now, you thought, frustration mingling with your fear. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, so determined to stay out for six hours, you wouldn’t be alone right now, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Unable to shake the fear, you grabbed the closest thing to a weapon you could find—a pan from the kitchen. Your hands trembled slightly as you gripped it, trying to muster the courage to face whatever was making those noises. Slowly, you made your way to the door, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out almost everything else.

As you reached the door, you heard footsteps just outside. Your grip tightened on the pan, muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself. The door creaked open, and you swung the pan with all your might—only to have it stopped mid-air.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Heeseung’s voice broke through the fog of fear, his reflexes quick enough to catch the pan just before it could connect with his head.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes wide with shock and relief as you realized what had almost happened. “Heeseung!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of anger, relief, and guilt.

He slowly lowered the pan, his expression shifting from surprise to a more serious one as he looked at you. “What were you doing?” he asked, his voice still tinged with the lingering tension from your earlier fight.

“What was I doing? What were you doing?” you shot back, your voice trembling as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. “I thought you were a thief or something! You’ve been gone for hours, Heeseung! I—”

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, the anger from before dissipating as he realized just how scared you’d been. “I just needed some time to think… but I didn’t mean to be gone this long.”

You looked at him, your emotions all tangled up—frustration at his disappearance, relief that he was back, and a lingering fear from the strange noises outside. “You scared me,” you admitted quietly, your voice losing its earlier edge.

Heeseung’s expression softened as he stepped closer, pulling you into a hug that you hadn’t realized you needed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his arms tightening around you, his voice filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You sighed into his chest, the fear finally ebbing away as you felt the familiar warmth of his embrace. “Let’s not fight like that again,” you murmured, burying your face in his shirt, the earlier argument now feeling trivial compared to the relief of having him back.

He nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Agreed. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll talk through things next time.”

The tension between you dissolved as you stood there, wrapped up in each other, the pan long forgotten on the floor as the night quietly continued around you.

Park jongseong - 박종성

The argument with Jay had been brief but sharp, a rare occurrence between the two of you. Usually, you could talk things out before they even escalated into something serious, but this time was different. He had to leave for work, cutting the conversation short and leaving you alone with your thoughts. As the door closed behind him, a heavy feeling settled in your chest. The unresolved tension gnawed at you, making you feel queasy, or maybe you really were getting sick.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You didn’t have the energy to do anything, and the apartment seemed too quiet without Jay’s presence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe the argument had been more significant than either of you realized. As the hours dragged on, you felt worse and worse, both physically and emotionally. By the time night fell, you had retreated to the bedroom, the curtains drawn tightly shut, blocking out any light.

You lay in bed, curled up under the covers as the TV blared at full volume, but you weren’t really watching it. The sound was more of a distraction, something to drown out the silence and the thoughts racing through your mind. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of the argument still pressing heavily on you.

When Jay finally came home the next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. He had tried calling you several times throughout the day, but there had been no answer. Worry gnawed at him as he walked through the apartment, noticing that nothing seemed to have changed since he left. Dishes were still in the sink, your belongings were scattered around, and the atmosphere felt strangely stagnant, as if time had stopped.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom, only to be met with darkness. The curtains were still closed, and the room was pitch black, save for the harsh glow of the TV, which was still on the loudest setting. His heart skipped a beat as he saw you lying there, unmoving, buried under the blankets. The sight sent a jolt of fear through him, and he quickly crossed the room, pulling open the curtains to let in some light.

Even with the sunlight streaming in, you didn’t stir. Concern etched deep lines into Jay’s face as he knelt beside the bed, reaching out to touch your forehead. The heat radiating from your skin shocked him; you were burning up, sweat clinging to your skin. He shook you gently, his voice tinged with worry as he called your name.

“Hey, wake up… please wake up,” he pleaded, his mind racing with thoughts of guilt and fear. Had you been like this all day? How had he not noticed something was wrong before he left? The argument replayed in his mind, but it seemed so insignificant now compared to the sight of you lying there, sick and vulnerable.

Slowly, you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. They were swollen, red, evidence of the tears you had shed before finally succumbing to sleep. Seeing Jay’s face hovering over you, filled with concern, brought a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you, and tears welled up in your eyes once more.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jay interrupted gently, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Let me take care of you, okay?”

Despite your weakened state, the guilt gnawed at you. You felt responsible for the argument, for not resolving things before he left, for getting sick and making him worry. But as Jay carefully helped you sit up, his touch tender and reassuring, those feelings began to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of relief that he was there, that he still cared.

Jay left the room briefly, returning with a glass of water and some fever medicine. He helped you take the pills, his hand steady as he held the glass to your lips. “Drink slowly,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he watched you, making sure you were okay. He then disappeared into the kitchen, where he began cooking something simple yet comforting.

The smell of food soon filled the apartment, and despite your sickness, it stirred a faint hunger in you. When Jay returned with a bowl of warm soup, the sight of it made your eyes water again. He set the tray down beside you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Eat a little bit, okay? You need your strength,” he urged, his voice gentle.

As you sipped the soup, the warmth spread through your body, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped you earlier. Jay watched you closely, his guilt evident in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for leaving like that,” he said quietly, his hand resting on your knee. “I should have stayed. I should have checked on you.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t… I didn’t handle things well. I should have just talked to you.”

Jay squeezed your knee gently, his eyes softening. “We both could have done things differently. But right now, the important thing is that you get better. We can talk about everything later.”

That was all it took to break down the remaining walls. The tears flowed freely as you leaned into him, the emotions of the past day pouring out. Jay held you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively, his own tears threatening to spill over as he whispered reassurances in your ear.

“I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, holding you tightly. “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

In that moment, the argument, the sickness, all of it seemed to fade away. All that mattered was the two of you, together, ready to face whatever came next. And as you clung to him, the warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering cold of the night before, leaving only the comforting presence of the person you loved more than anything in the world.

Sim jaeyun = 심재윤

The day had been tense, to say the least. The argument with Jake had left a heavy cloud hanging over the apartment, and you both retreated to different corners of the house to cool off. It wasn’t like you to argue, but today, emotions had gotten the better of you. Now, as you sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the heated words in your mind, you felt the sting of regret.

Jake, meanwhile, had taken a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the frustration that had built up between you two. He was still lost in thought as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to his chest and dampening his hair. But in his distracted state, he didn’t notice the pile of laundry you’d thrown earlier in a fit of irritation.

One misstep was all it took. His foot caught on a stray shirt, and before he knew it, he was stumbling forward. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was tumbling onto the bed, landing right on top of you with a soft thud. The unexpected weight of him knocked the breath out of you, and you instinctively turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

Jake froze, his arms on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn’t crush you completely. His wet hair hung down, dripping cold water onto your cheek. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air. Jake was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Uh… sorry,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by the situation. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat of the shower or the awkwardness of the moment, you weren’t sure. He looked down at you, his usual confident demeanor replaced by the confused, almost puppy-like expression he wore whenever he was at a loss for words.

You could feel his warm breath against your skin, the closeness making your heart race despite the lingering irritation from the argument. But you still refused to look at him, your pride keeping you from acknowledging the accidental intimacy of the moment. Instead, you focused on the sensation of his wet hair dripping onto your face, each drop sending a shiver down your spine.

Jake, sensing your discomfort but not quite knowing how to fix it, shifted slightly, inadvertently causing his towel to slip just a little lower. You felt the movement, and your eyes widened in response, though you still stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to—” Jake started, but his words trailed off as he struggled to figure out how to salvage the situation. He looked down at you, seeing the way your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite place. His heart clenched at the thought that he might have made things worse between you two.

The sight of you beneath him, so close yet so distant, was enough to make him realize just how much he hated the tension that had built up between you. He missed the easygoing laughter, the playful teasing, and most of all, the warmth that you always brought into his life. And now, here he was, in one of the most compromising positions imaginable, and he felt completely helpless.

A drop of water fell from his hair, landing on your lips this time. You finally couldn’t resist anymore and turned your head back to face him, meeting his gaze for the first time since he’d fallen on you. Jake’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the earlier argument seeming almost insignificant in the face of this unexpected closeness.

Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with unspoken apologies and lingering feelings. Jake’s confusion gradually melted into something softer as he looked at you, realizing that maybe this ridiculous situation was exactly what you needed to break the tension. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“I really didn’t mean to fall on you,” he said again, his voice lighter this time, with a hint of amusement creeping in. “I just… well, I’m a klutz, I guess.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that finally broke through your stern expression, the absurdity of the situation starting to get to you. The sight of Jake, usually so put-together, looking down at you with his wet hair and sheepish grin was enough to chip away at your lingering annoyance.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, your voice softer now. “Just… watch where you’re going next time.”

Jake let out a small laugh, the tension between you slowly dissolving as you both began to relax. “Yeah, I’ll try,” he said, his voice warm. He carefully shifted his weight, making sure his towel stayed in place, and rolled off of you, sitting up beside you on the bed.

The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, the remnants of the argument lingering in the background but no longer the focal point. Jake reached out, his hand brushing against yours as if testing the waters. When you didn’t pull away, he intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “I didn’t want to leave things like that between us.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. “I’m sorry too,” you replied, squeezing his hand back. “Let’s not fight like that again, okay?”

Jake nodded, his eyes softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Deal,” he whispered, pulling you into a warm embrace. The wetness of his hair was still a little annoying, but you didn’t mind so much now, especially as he held you close, making everything else seem so small in comparison.

In that moment, with Jake’s arms wrapped around you and the argument behind you, you felt the tension completely fade away, replaced by the familiar comfort of being with the person you loved.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

The argument with Sunghoon earlier had been a rare occurrence. You were both introverts, and conflicts were usually avoided rather than confronted head-on. This time, though, something had snapped, and the two of you had exchanged a few terse words before he went completely silent. The lack of communication only made things more awkward, neither of you knowing how to bridge the gap that had suddenly formed between you.

Throughout the day, you both tried to go about your usual routines, but the tension was palpable. Sunghoon had eventually left the house without a word, and you didn’t have the energy to ask where he was going. Instead, you focused on trying to reclaim your cool, but the unresolved argument kept nagging at you, making it impossible to fully relax.

By the time night fell, you were emotionally drained. Rather than face the cold emptiness of your shared bed, you decided to crash on the couch for the night. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but it felt easier than being alone in the room where the argument had started. You curled up in a crooked position, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but exhaustion eventually pulled you into a restless sleep.

When Sunghoon returned home late that night, the apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. He walked through the living room, intending to head straight to bed, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you on the couch. You looked so small and peaceful, even in the uncomfortable position you had curled yourself into. His heart clenched at the sight, a mix of guilt and longing washing over him.

He couldn’t stand to see you like that. The argument had already made him feel like he’d failed you, and now, seeing you sleeping on the couch because of it, he felt even worse. Silently, he knelt beside you, carefully adjusting your posture to make you more comfortable. As he did, you instinctively clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist, seeking warmth and comfort even in your sleep.

Sunghoon froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The simple act of you holding onto him, even unconsciously, drove him crazy. He needed you—more than he could ever put into words. He craved your presence, your touch, your voice, and the thought of being apart from you, even emotionally, was unbearable.

Without a second thought, he slipped his arms under you, lifting you slightly so that your head rested against his neck, your cheek pressed against his Adam’s apple. You sighed softly in your sleep, your body relaxing into him, and he felt a surge of affection so strong it almost hurt. He stayed there, holding you close, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the day caught up with him, and he felt his eyes growing heavy. He didn’t want to move—didn’t want to risk waking you or breaking the fragile peace that had settled over the room. So, he let himself sink into the couch beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. Sleep claimed him before he could even think about it, pulling him into a deep, dreamless slumber.

When you woke up the next morning, it took you a moment to register where you were. The couch was even more uncomfortable than you remembered, and there was a weight pressing down on you that made it hard to move. It took another moment to realize that Sunghoon was there, his body draped over yours, his head nestled against your chest. He was still in his outwear, his soft snores escaping from his slightly parted lips.

The sight of him like that—so vulnerable and peaceful—melted away the lingering anger from the previous day. Despite everything, he looked so much like a child in that moment, his hand twitching slightly as he slept, and you couldn’t help but smile. You reached up, gently brushing his hair out of his face, and pulled him closer, his cheek resting against your chest.

Sunghoon stirred slightly, nuzzling into you, but he didn’t wake. His presence, his warmth, made it impossible to stay mad at him. Whatever tension had been between you the day before seemed so insignificant now, compared to the simple fact that you were here, together, holding each other close.

As you lay there, watching him sleep, you realized that nothing mattered more than this—than being with him, even when things weren’t perfect. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, letting the last of your anger fade away. Sunghoon was your man-baby, after all, and as he lay there, snuggled up against you, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You and Sunoo had a silly argument earlier in the day, something trivial that spiraled into a playful spat. The kind of argument where neither of you could stay mad for long, but still, it left a bit of tension in the air. Both of you had your pride, and neither wanted to be the first to break the silence.

Hours passed, and you busied yourself with other things, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. Then, as the evening began to settle in, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened it to find Sunoo standing there, looking at the ground with his usual mischievous yet adorable expression. His eyes, usually so bright, were now big and doe-like, his lips pressed into a small pout.

In his hands, he held a large bucket of mint chocolate ice cream—your favorite. The sight of him standing there, looking like an upset sly fox, immediately melted your heart. Without thinking twice, you ran to him with open arms, pulling him into a tight hug. Sunoo let out a little laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, the tension between you evaporating in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice soft as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m sorry too,” you replied with a smile, “and you didn’t have to bring me this, but I’m glad you did.”

Sunoo grinned, his eyes lighting up again as he handed you the ice cream. “Well, I knew this would make everything better.”

You both headed to the kitchen, grabbing spoons as you sat on the floor, the bucket of ice cream between you. The argument was long forgotten as you both dug in, laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing had been. Sunoo, ever the entertainer, started making funny faces and telling stories, making you laugh so hard that you nearly choked on your ice cream.

Before you knew it, the ice cream was almost gone, and you were both lying on the kitchen floor, your stomachs full and your hearts light. Sunoo turned his head to look at you, a soft smile on his lips as he reached over to squeeze your hand. “You know, even when we argue, I can’t imagine not having you around,” he said, his voice sincere.

You squeezed his hand back, your heart fluttering at his words. “I feel the same way, Sunoo. I’m glad we have each other.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening there, on the kitchen floor, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. The earlier argument seemed so silly now, just another small bump in the road that you both knew would always lead back to moments like this—filled with love, laughter, and of course, a lot of mint chocolate ice cream.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

After a heated argument, you slumped on the couch, frustrated and hurt. Jungwon, equally upset, grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door. You expected him to storm out, but instead, he paused and looked back at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate before walking back over to you, his expression softening slightly.

Without a word, he reached down and pulled you off the couch, gently but firmly. Your confusion grew as he knelt to slip your shoes onto your feet. “Jungwon, where are we going?” you asked, but he didn’t answer. He just took your wrist in his hand and led you out of the house, still in your pajamas.

He walked with purpose, and it wasn’t until you reached a familiar spot that you realized where he had taken you. It was the place where he had first confessed his love to you. The memories of that day flooded back, and you felt a mix of emotions—confusion, love, and the remnants of your earlier argument.

Jungwon finally stopped and turned to face you, his eyes serious but filled with the deep affection you had always known. “Every time we argue, I want you to remember this place,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “This place is special because it’s where I first told you how much you mean to me. It won’t have the same spark if we’re not together anymore.”

His words struck a chord in you, and you realized that despite the argument, he was trying to remind you of what truly mattered. The tension between you slowly dissolved as the significance of the moment washed over you. Jungwon’s expression softened further as he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“I don’t want us to forget this,” he murmured against your hair. “No matter what happens, I don’t want to lose this.” You hugged him tightly, feeling the warmth of his love and the importance of the place you both stood in. The argument seemed trivial now, overshadowed by the depth of your connection.

As you stood there together, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, the love you shared would always bring you back to this place, both physically and emotionally.

Ni- ki -남편

You and Ni-ki had argued earlier in the day, and while the fight wasn't serious, both of you were too stubborn to back down. Instead of talking it out, you decided to ignore him completely, which he took as a challenge. He ignored you right back, and now, both of you were locked in a silent treatment battle.

As the night wore on, you decided to take things a step further by going to bed without saying goodnight to him. Instead, you kissed your Puma plushie, whispering a soft "Goodnight" to it as you pulled the covers over yourself. Ni-ki saw this from the corner of his eye and tried to act nonchalant, wanting to seem mature and unaffected. But as the minutes passed, the bruising of his pride started to gnaw at him.

Unable to take it any longer, he stormed into the room, the tension in his movements betraying the calm façade he was trying to maintain. Without saying a word, he crawled onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your figure from behind. His grip was tight, desperate, as if he was trying to silently convey what he couldn't say out loud.

You could feel his warm breath against your neck, and the tension slowly melted away. Despite the stubbornness that had driven you both earlier, you couldn't resist any longer. You turned around to face him, his arms still wrapped around you, and sighed softly.

"Who's my big baby?" you teased, your voice gentle as you cupped his cheeks.

He looked at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and longing, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into your touch, allowing you to smother his cheeks with kisses. As much as he pretended to hate it, you could see the way his eyes softened, the way he let down his guard just for you.

Maybe the argument had been silly, but it had led to this moment, a reminder of how much he loved being babied by you, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

[sweetscene]

love is super sweet in my mouth!

PAIRING. timskip!osamu x f!reader　WC. 693　SONG. i hate fruits by nct dream　TAGS. fluff, established relationship, an overthinking reader (me tbh)

NOTE. quick drabble (took longer than imagined cuz i accidentally deleted the og while writing…) dk any cake vocab so dont flame me, also havent had cake in a year so it was impossible to write about it lolllll (can u guys tell i suck at writing fluff😞)

For the first time since moving in with Miya Osamu nine months ago, his spot on the bed is cold and empty.

Your worst fear rushes to your mind as you try to free yourself from this apparent nightmare. But it doesn’t work. The more you lay still, staring up at the bland ceiling, the more reality hits. The more it feels like he’s left.

Just the night before, you’d asked Osamu if the two of you are truly meant to be together forever. And despite his natural reassurance, the silence at your side—no one to pull you closer and ask for five more minutes—leaves you shattered.

After spending a good while watching the sky clear up, you finally decide to get up. You put on a shirt you’d aimlessly thrown on the last night, and you brace yourself for the inevitable result bound to strike you deeply.

But when you open the door, you hear him quietly cursing at the kitchen to your left. Objects lightly hit the counter, and he continues to mutter words you can’t quite understand. You try your best to remain quiet, but as you take one step forward, your slippers slide against the hardwood floors, capturing his attention immediately.

“Y/N?” He calls for you, voice now loud yet tender, somehow worried. “Are you awake?”

You hesitantly peek your head out, and you discover him trying his best to cover the counter, but its no use. His body isn’t enough to cover the disastrous mess of baking materials scattered over the large surface.

“The bed was feeling cold,” you manage to say, approaching him steadily. “What are you doing?”

He scratches the back of his head, his eyes which just screams ‘i was hoping you wouldn’t ask that’ avoids your stare. “I uh…” he turns around for a quick moment, and you see it—a vanilla cake with intricate details of frosting rests neatly behind him. “I wanted to make you something nice…you were feeling down last night, right?”

Baking isn’t your forte, and despite being a good cook, Osamu never dabbled in it. 9:00AM strikes on the clock, and the bags scattered around the floor tell you he’d gotten up early in the morning just to buy the right materials.

oh…you fall to the ground, covering your face with your hands. i shouldnt have doubted him.

“Y/N?” He rushes to you with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling good?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you mutter.

There’s a brief pause, his hands on your shoulders as he tries to catch a glimpse of your face. And when you refuse to show, he takes your hands, kissing each knuckle as if he’s trying to tell you something beyond the art of words. “What are you sorry for?” He asks, running his thumbs against your hands sweetly.

Then, without waiting for a reply, he picks you up swiftly, taking you to the cleanest edge of the messy counter. “I did this because I wanted to.”

He cuts up the cake, and you notice how unbelievably perfect the inside is—icing and strawberries arranged in between the two layers of cake. “Here, have a bite,” he continues on, a fork now in his hand.

You do as told, taking a bite of the small piece. The vanilla is sweet as expected, but the sudden appearance of the strawberries leave you surprised. The gentle transition causes your cheeks to grow pink.

“So good,” you say, hands hovering over you smiling lips. “But ‘Samu, isn’t it too early for something this sweet?”

His mouth parts slightly, only realizing this is your first meal of the day. His features fall flat. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that. I’ll make you some breakfast right—“

Before he turns, you rush to cup his cheeks, landing a quick peck on his forehead. “Thank you, Osamu,” you say giddily.

He freezes up for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. At last, your touch melts him, and he drops into your embrace, arms looping behind your back and holding you tightly. “Not fair. I think I should be thanking you, my love. Thank you for staying with me.”

[hugemilkshake]

HELLOHELLOHELLO Hihi! I would like to request an Valentine's letter from Shadow Milk Cookie!!

{-Mizu5 Anon}

Enjoy the letter! I drew Smilk dying in a glue trap since I thought it would be goofy

A Valentine’s Day letter from Shadow Milk

-Romantic-

Vocab

Ineffable- too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words

revery- A pleasant daydream or deep thought

seraphic- angelic, sweet

Moon struck- unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love

tristful- deeply yet romantically melancholy

amorously- In a loving or romantic way

——————————————————

It was one of those dark, cold nights, one of those were you wanted to have hot chocolate and a tv show on.

You were making said cup of hot chocolate when you felt something light fall on top of your head, accompanied by a giggle.

Panicked you grabbed what was on your head and spun around, only to find a letter in your hands and no one except yourself in your kitchen.

Confused you looked at the letter to find that it was written on a black sheet of paper with fancy yet energetic handwriting in blueish-turquoise pen.

It smelled faintly of blueberries? Or books. You couldn’t really tell what the scent was, but the handwriting was practically begging you to read it.. and I mean what harm can come from reading a mysterious letter?

To my lovely, darling Y/N Cookie,

Oh how you make me feel an ineffable love for you, the way you talk, the way you move, the way you act, it all is a revery to me.

When ever I hear your voice it’s an seraphic melody that seems to make me drift into moon struck haze

Oh but we can never be together, for I am but the lowly beast and you are a ethereal beauty, purer than the darkness of deceit. It truly is a tristful story, a beast and a beauty.

— Amorously

Shadow Milk Cookie

[randomcreator-09]

It's Cuffing Season (Jonathan Crane x Barista!Reader)

(Gif ain't mine > @breakfastonuranus)

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨NSFW [Stockholm Syndrome (Pretty self-explanatory), Abduction, Chocking, Bondage (cuffing), Oral (M!Rec), DubCon (cnc maybe?), PnV (Wrap it before you Tap it), Breeding kink, Candle Play, Overstimulation, and some other things that I may have forgotten], He fell in love with you but you didn't love him (as much) back so he had to do what any villain would do ^^, Crane's top but a softy his little princess, Crane just loves us~, Yes a lil Fluff and a bit of angst :3, also maybe mention of death (Parents)✨

🐧I'm learning my vocabs on NSFW content XD look how I'm adding up every smut warnings I know XD and it's actually not there XD. Please tell me if those are actually in the story damn :"D. Anyways this fic is for that request made, I hope this satisfies your need :3 cuz it did mine XD Although the phasing might be fast somehow... I tried putting all my ideas in one place heh, I hope I wrote it well :"D also the song comes in my mind as I wrote this is the one above... It's cuffing season~🐧

5K Words (I tried shortening it really... this is the best I could do ack)

Now... enjoy you mentally ill people (like me XD)

KINDLY REBLOG TO REACH MORE PEEPS ^^ (also heart it if you love it ^^ tnx)

-----

"Jonathan Crane!" you screamed to the top of your lungs as you read the order name on the cup. Looking around to see if anyone would answer to that name, and there he came.

A man in his well-tailored black suit, accompanied by his brown vest and black tie. A divine for any lady to look at, but for you it was the last thing you found interesting about. You didn't have time to swoon over men right now. Tuition at your college was more than the budget your parents left you before passing and you had to work your ass off to get through. Plus this business was not running well (your parent's business) so you had to do what had to be done, work to the bones.

"Thanks, Miss?" he muttered as he grabbed his drink from the counter and looked you straight in the eye. He had ocean blue eyes that were accessorized with his rectangle cut glasses which made him look more heavenly. His lips pursed and cheeks well contoured, anyone could really just fall in love with this man with one look, you thought, but not you.

You were making the next order as you spoke, "Y/N" you said without thinking of anything, flashing him a quick smile before returning to getting busy.

He smiled back, but you didn't see that as you busied yourself. He nodded before leaving the store. It was sunny that day, a busy day in Gotham City. People out and about, havoc on the neighboring store and policemen drinking their coffee in your store, this was Gotham City, bow.

-----(Jonathan Crane POV)

As Jonathan walked through the streets of Gotham City, he smirked. 'Y/N's hands were on this cup' he thought smiling to himself, as he sipped through the lid. It has been long since he was obsessed with something, not to mention someone other than Batman.

He first saw you on the day havoc happened at your store, a burglary. He was in line to order his usual coffee, clearly pissed at how the line was moving slowly when three masked men came in pointing guns at your employee. It was his first time seeing you then, the owner of the café.

You came out with a nonchalant look as you came from the back kitchen and pointed a loaded shotgun at the masked men. "Out" was the only thing you said as the masked men went running (unfortunately their guns were empty and were just actually toys). He was amused how you knew their guns were empty, even then, you exuded confidence in what you did that day, something Crane found fascinating.

From then on he went to the café from day to day (if he had the time even hour by hour). When you weren't there he would just walk away with nothing in hand, but when you were, he'd order everything on the menu to keep you standing there picking his order from the glassed window, to see your cleavage creeping out your tight V-neck shirt, as his pants would feel tight with his bulge poking it. He really should do something about his obsession with you he thought.

And think he did. He has planned to abduct you and manage your dead parent's business while you were gone, so you'd call him a 'good boy' after manipulating your mind to love him. He planned on paying for your tuition after it too! He has spoken to your school's board to give you a scholarship already (to which you declined because the head of your college was known to give scholarships to people he'd like to fuck). He had a room for you in his apartment already, complete with all the clothes you have in your own small apartment (with extra touches of clothes he likes to see you in... such as expensive lingerie and such).

'Just you wait my love' he thought as he kept the empty cup to his stash of cups with your handwriting on his office desk drawer. 'you will be mine soon', as he closes the drawer shut with a bright smile.

-----(Your POV)

You breath was a mess, your memory a foggy one, as your vision went on and off.

You only remembered the dark night enveloping the streets. As you closed the shop early today (because one of your employees had midterm examinations and you had too), you were out at the back of the shop throwing the heavy bag of trash to the bin when your sight turned dark.

In panic, you tried to fight the four arms that kept you from removing the bag over your head to no avail. Screaming was useless in Gotham, so you didn't try to do so. They guided you up in a spaced van and tied your hand back, they were being rather careful with you, you thought. Like a porcelain from china being transported to the England museum.

Before you know it you were dead asleep, as you inhaled funny smelling air (sleeping gas you presumed).

Minutes passed by as your vision went on again. Seeing that handsome blue-eyed man smiling at the sight of you, and your out again.

-----(Jonathan Crane's POV)

'She's here!' Jonathan's mind was in haywire. He was excited as he saw you being ushered in his apartment by two of his men. However his smile faltered as he sees your wrist red from the rope tied around it.

"Fuck! I told you to be careful with her! You fucking dimwits!" he screamed as he trashed around his living room, throwing anything he saw to his men. "Sorry, Sir Crane, she was a feisty one you see-" he shot the man, he had no time for explanations. "Get out of my sight" he glared at the other who ran out.

Jonathan kneeled down to untie you and remove the black bag over your head. Oh, how majestic you looked sleeping, he could stare at you forever, even maybe when the two of you are old, he smiled at that.

"Welcome Home, Y/N" as he kissed your forehead before carrying you princess-style to your new room.

-----(Your POV)

As you blinked your eyes, adjusting to the light of the room. You finally see the room you were in, it was not your room. Panic consumes you as you realize there were shackles on your wrist, chained to the bed.

You couldn't possibly scream now, since you didn't scream earlier where it could have been evident. You just observed the room, looking for something to get yourself free. The room was in your favourite colour, shockingly it made you more at ease than panic. Some of your missing favorite clothes were on the open closet as well, with boxes of maybe new clothes. Pair of shoes and sandals that screamed 'expensive', you thought of the possibility that maybe a girl abducted you, but some of them were visibly your size.

Before you could find a way to escape the door creeks open. You close your eyes to pretend to be sleeping, but the person to open it doesn't seem to buy it.

"Oh Darling, I mean no harm," his deep voice echoes the room. You closely open your eyes to see the same man that goes to your cafe shop and only ever smiles at you.

"You!" exclaiming as you squirm through the chain to fight him. He rushes to you as he places a tray of food on the floor. "Darling, Darling Angel calm down my Love. I am here to protect you from this dangerous world, I am your only hope in this dark world. By the time everything is in havoc, you are safe here." as he tries to sooth you, patting your head as he sat beside your bedside.

"Fuck You, Jonathan!" you hiss at him, remembering his name as he was always in your cafe, in which he chuckles. "I believe that's not how you thank your saviour love," his voice in a darker tone than earlier as he stands up and picks up the tray of food, placing it on your lap. "Now, I will remove the cuffs on your wrist and you eat peacefully without fighting your savior or..." he pauses as his fingers tickle your wrist and moving slowly to grip on your neck ever so softly "... We do it the hard way and I might punish you, which, believe me, you might even enjoy, Y/N" as he smirks at you.

It took all in you to not tear up then. You prayed to God that this was just a sick dream and that you fainted from overworking, but it wasn't. As you feel his hands tighten their grip making you look at him, you suddenly drown in his ocean-blue eyes. If you weren't a busy woman and had time to date you'd probably dated him before, but this was sick, something you never thought a man with such a political figure like him would do.

Kicking the tray of food to the floor, you squirmed again, the cuffs tightening with your every move. Swearing to his face that you will never cooperate with him and he can kiss your ass. He laughs at that, he stands up after releasing your neck as you gasp for air. He then cleans up your mess and closes the door with a rather loud bang. As you cried in the room, waiting for the inevitable 'punishment'.

Hours has passed and the room turned dark along with the night creeping in the room. The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. Your breath hitched as the sound of footsteps filled the room, heavier this time. Jonathan Crane appeared once more, but now the light was dimmer, casting flickering shadows across his face. In his hand, a single candle burned, the flame dancing in the darkness.

"You seem to have a lot of fight in you," he murmured, setting the candle on a nearby table. "But I wonder..." He trailed off, his voice low and taunting as he approached the bed, pulling a small chair closer to where you lay cuffed. "How long will that fire last?"

He dragged the chair, its legs scraping against the floor, and sat down. His eyes gleamed with a sick curiosity, studying your every move, every breath. His fingers hovered over the flame, feeling its heat before he slowly turned his gaze back to you.

"You know, fear has many faces," he whispered. His hand, now inches from your skin, tilted the candle slightly. A bead of hot wax dripped, falling closer... closer...

"Please..." You whispered staring at the falling bead of wax rolling down the candle.

The first drop landed just above your stomach, the sting sharp but fleeting. You flinched, a hiss escaping your lips. Jonathan smirked, leaning forward. "Fear, pain... they blend together. And soon, you'll understand just how much I can make you feel."

The next drop fell, then another, each landing with precision, calculated to push you further without overwhelming you. Every slight movement you made only caused the shackles to tighten, reminding you of your helplessness.

"You will cooperate," he whispered darkly, "whether you like it or not."

The steady drip of hot wax continued, each drop sending a fresh wave of stinging heat across your skin. You couldn’t help it—you began to squirm, the restraints digging deeper into your wrists as you tried to twist away. Your heart raced, fear coursing through every vein.

“P-please,” you gasped, your voice shaking as you felt the heat of the wax inching closer to your chest. “Stop, I—I can’t take it.”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down your spine. He tilted the candle just enough to let a few more drops fall, ignoring your pleas. "Begging already?" he teased, the sound of his laughter dark and unsettling.

You squirmed harder, desperate to escape the pain, but there was nowhere to go. The shackles held you in place, trapping you in his game. "Jonathan, please!" you cried out, your voice breaking. "Stop, I’ll do whatever you want, just—please!"

He stood up then, towering over you, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. "Do you really think begging will change anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”

He chuckled, low and menacing, as he straightened, letting another drop fall from the candle with eerie precision. “I want you to remember this moment. Every time you think of resisting me... every time you think you have any control.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the heat burned into your skin again. His laugh echoed in your ears, cruel and unrelenting, as if your suffering was nothing more than a twisted form of entertainment for him.

"You’ll break," he said, his voice eerily calm. "And when you do... you’ll beg me to continue."

Your body trembled under the growing layer of hardened wax, the pain numbing into a dull throb as you finally broke down, tears slipping down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your chest, your will shattered as you lay helpless beneath him, the hot wax pooling in small rivers over your skin, solidifying into painful reminders of his control.

Jonathan finally paused, watching the tears fall with a look of satisfaction in his cold eyes. He placed the candle back on the table, its flame still flickering faintly. His gaze drifted down your body, where the wax now covered your skin in thick patches. He licked his lips, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension.

Your eyes flickered downwards, catching the unmistakable bulge in his pants. The air shifted, heavier now, as he undid his belt with a slow, deliberate movement, the metal buckle clinking softly in the oppressive quiet.

His voice was low and dangerous as he looked down at you. "You've been such a defiant girl, Y/N," he said, his tone almost casual. "Now… you’re going to make it up to me."

He tugged down his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood there, commanding and unyielding. "I think you know what comes next," he murmured, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his as you tried to keep it there. "And listen very carefully—if I feel your teeth, you'll wish I had only used wax." you gritted your teeth as he aligns his length to your lips, making you look at his pink veiny cock.

He leaned in, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force you to meet his gaze. His grip was firm, but the smirk on his face was even crueler. "Now," he ordered, his voice deepening with lust. "Take me. And don't make me regret giving you this chance."

As you slowly opened your mouth to accommodate his grit. He slowly moved in your mouth. Soliciting a quiet moan out his lips as he slowly thrusts in and out your mouth, hands still tangled on your hair. "Good... Good girl," he hissed as his head bobs back from pleasure.

Tears ran down your cheeks as your throat chokes on the tip of his cock. Shackles still on your wrist as he slowly picks up his phase, making you squirm again, moaning at how his restless speed in your mouth made you feel soaking wet down below, bucking your knees together to create friction.

His speed was ethereal now, you hesitated, your throat tightening as you leaned forward, but Jonathan’s grip on your hair tightened, his warning clear in his eyes. You started, gagging slightly as he pushed you to take him deeper, but there was no room for hesitation. The pressure built, and just as you choked, he pulled back slightly, his hand flashing across your face with a sharp slap.

"Don’t stop now," he growled, dragging you back roughly. The force left no room for escape as he pushed you to take him fully, his breath quickening, his control slipping as you obeyed, doing your best to keep up. His pace quickened until the tension broke, and you felt him reach his climax.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck! Take it! Take it, love!" Jonathan groaned, his body shuddering with release as he rutted into your mouth, the taste of him thick on your tongue. He held you there for a moment longer before finally pulling away, leaving you gasping for air, your throat raw and your body trembling.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, Jonathan's hands moved to the cuffs, undoing them with a gentleness that sharply contrasted the earlier brutality. As the restraints fell away, your sore wrists ached from the pressure, but you barely registered the pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he murmured softly, easing your arms down to your sides as you panted weakly, exhaustion washing over you. He wiped the sweat and wax from your skin with a damp cloth, moving with surprising care as he cleaned away the hardened remnants from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped the corners of your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your lips.

“You did so well,” he whispered, his voice now gentle, devoid of the harsh edge it had held moments before. “You’re perfect.” His words were soft, almost affectionate, as he covered you with a warm blanket, tucking it around your body as if wrapping you in a cocoon of safety. "My fucking perfect angel." as he kissed your forehead.

As your eyes fluttered closed, too tired to fight sleep, Jonathan leaned down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Rest now. You're mine, and I’ll take care of you," he whispered, stroking your hair soothingly until you finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

-----(Months after abduction, Batman is dead)

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you gazed out the window, your reflection staring back at you. Months ago, you had cried endlessly, resisting every touch and command Jonathan gave. Now, those tears seemed so distant, almost laughable. The ‘punishments’ he promised had turned into something you craved—each session pushing you to new heights of pleasure. And afterward, the aftercare was so tender, so sweet, you had never felt so wanted. So cared for.

He had taken over everything: your safety, your business, and even your education. Your café ran smoothly under his careful management, leaving you to focus on finances from the comfort of his condo. The outside world? It felt foreign now, just a backdrop beyond the glass. Here, with him, was all you needed.

The door clicked open, and you immediately recognized the soft footsteps crossing the threshold. You didn’t turn around, but you could feel his presence before he even touched you. Jonathan was back.

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you against him. “How was your day?” he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned back into his chest, feeling the weight of the day fade away as you melted into his embrace.

“Hard,” you groaned, thinking about the lessons. The professors he hired for you weren’t easy, and today had been especially draining. “College was hard... why do they make it so difficult?” (The professors came to the apartment, Jonathan doesn't want his princess to walk or drain herself to go out).

Jonathan chuckled softly, his hands trailing up and down your waist and hips in slow, soothing movements. "Difficult?" he whispered, pulling your head back gently so that your lips were inches from his. "I’ll have to deal with that professor, then... make sure they know better than to push you too hard."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a kiss, his grip firm as he held you in place. The tension melted from your body as you sank into him, the world outside completely forgotten. The kiss was slow but possessive, his lips claiming yours with an undeniable hunger that left you breathless.

When he finally pulled away, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice was a low, commanding murmur. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, your body already responding to his words, anticipation building as he guided you up the stairs to the room, knowing exactly what was coming next.

As you reached the top of the stairs, Jonathan didn’t lead you toward his room. Instead, he pulled you toward yours. The familiar space, the one place that was entirely yours within his domain, now felt smaller with him so close. The moment you entered, he pressed you firmly against the wall, his body pinning yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

His lips captured yours again, more intense this time, his hand snaking around your waist as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the controlled desire in the way he held you, as though he was fighting to maintain his composure. When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes darkened as they roamed over you, a quiet hunger simmering beneath the surface.

With deliberate slowness, Jonathan reached for the silky coat draped over your body, sliding it off your shoulders with one fluid motion. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around your feet, leaving you standing there in the black lingerie you knew he adored. His breath hitched, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sight before him.

The lingerie clung to your curves, the sheer black fabric leaving little to the imagination. Intricate lace patterns adorned the cups, framing your chest in a way that was both delicate and provocative. Thin straps crisscrossed over your torso, highlighting your waist, while the sheer fabric cascaded down, barely covering the tops of your thighs. The black lace was cut in such a way that it hinted at more, teasing him, daring him to explore further.

Jonathan’s breathing became shallow, his eyes locked onto you as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. "You really do know how to get under my skin," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he stepped closer, his hands tracing the outline of the lace. “You wore this... just for me?”

You nodded slightly, your skin tingling under his touch. His fingers trailed along the delicate fabric, his restraint faltering as he admired every inch of you. "Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Jonathan leaned in again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. This kiss was different—fiercer, more demanding—as he poured all his desire into it. You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

In one swift motion, he removed his vest and necktie, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The smooth fabric of his shirt clung to his form as he slipped it off, revealing the taut lines of his chest and arms. Your breath caught at the sight, his body a perfect blend of strength and control.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he took your wrists, binding them together behind your back with his necktie. The gesture was possessive, a reminder that you were his, and the thrill of being restrained sent a rush of excitement through you.

With a gentle push, Jonathan guided you back toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment your back hit the mattress, he hovered above you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, trailing up to your neck, where he nibbled lightly, teasingly, as if savoring every moment.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, each word laced with fervent desire. He continued kissing his way back to your lips, his voice low and filled with promise. “I could breed you right now, make you mine in every way.”

His lips found yours again, deeper and more passionate, as he whispered more pleasurable words that made your skin tingle and your body ache for him. “You were made for this,” he murmured between kisses, his hands exploring the curve of your waist, igniting a fire within you that was impossible to ignore.

As Jonathan continued to kiss you, his hands roaming your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your knees began to buckle, the sensations overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him, searching for more friction, more connection. Each subtle movement sent sparks coursing through your veins, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

Jonathan noticed immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He pulled back slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "What do you want, love?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, relishing the power he held over you.

You bit your lip, your breath coming in quick gasps as you looked up at him, eyes filled with need. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling with urgency. “I want you... I need you to take me.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction radiating from him at your plea. “Is that what you really want?” he taunted, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “To feel me inside you?”

“Yes! Please, Jonathan,” you begged, the desperation in your voice making it clear just how much you craved him. You felt vulnerable, yet utterly alive, and the anticipation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips again, the kiss a mixture of passion and possession. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

With a low, sultry laugh, Jonathan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his belt free, the leather falling to the floor with a soft thud. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his hips until they pooled at his ankles, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him as he locked his eyes onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, the air thick with anticipation. “Now, tell me again,” he said, his voice a deep growl, “What do you want?”

Your heart raced, the need for him consuming your thoughts. “I want you, Jonathan,” you replied, your voice a soft plea. “I need you to take me, to claim me as yours.”

"Fuck," he says with a low growl, Jonathan removed his boxers, exposing himself fully as he stepped closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. As he aligned himself with your entrance, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “You were just made for this, weren’t you, love?”

Without warning, he pushed into you hard, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out. You felt him stretching you, the sensation igniting a fire within you.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, your body arching to meet him as he began to move, he placed his arms behind your back as he thrusts deliberately and powerful. The world around you faded away, leaving only the rhythm of his body against yours and the electric connection between you.

His thrusts became faster, harder, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel your climax building, as his thumb drew circles on you clit, the tension coiling tighter with each movement. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You feel so good around me.”

As you neared the edge, he leaned down, kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans as you spiraled into your first climax. Your body quaked, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he continued to thrust, riding the waves of your pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching your face with a predatory gaze. “So beautiful when you come apart for me. I want to see you do it again.”

The words sent another shock of pleasure through you, and you felt yourself approaching another orgasm. Jonathan picked up his pace, his hips driving into you relentlessly, urging you closer and closer. “Come for me again,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to feel you clench around me.”

With a final thrust, you tumbled over the edge again, your body quaking as your second climax took you by storm. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and desperation, and Jonathan’s grip on your hips tightened as he surged deeper.

“Fuck, take it!” he groaned, his own climax building as he thrust into you one last time. “Take my fucking seed, princess. Be filled with my seed and carry my child, angel.”

As he released himself deep inside you, you felt the warmth spreading, a final wave of bliss washing over you. Screaming as the world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment of connection, pleasure, and possessiveness.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, Jonathan huffed and puffed, catching his breath. He looked down at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice low and warm. “The way that lingerie hugs your body, it was made for me. Your breasts bounce just right for me to enjoy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your breasts, savoring the way they felt beneath his mouth. Each kiss sent a thrill through you, and your breath hitched, the sensation making your heart race. You loved being worshipped like this, the feeling of his admiration washing over you, igniting a fire of desire deep within.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with reverence. He pulled back slightly to admire the way the lingerie framed your figure before carefully removing himself from you. You felt a rush of emptiness at his absence, but he quickly set to work, cleaning you off with gentle hands, his touch almost reverent.

After making sure you were taken care of, he leaned down again to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer. “Such a good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone affectionate and possessive. He reached behind you, deftly untying the necktie that had bound your wrists, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

With a smile, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. “How was your day?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was long,” he replied, nuzzling against your hair. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You both lay back against the bed, the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. As you nestled into his side, the warmth and safety enveloping you made you forget all about the world outside—and the circumstances that had brought you together.

In that moment, it felt like everything was perfect, just as it should be, and you let the worries of the past fade away into the night, content to simply be with him.

-----

🐧Damn... Rollercoaster it was to write this XD I hope it gave off Stockholm syndrome aha :"D Anyways I loved Jonathan Crane on this fic :"3 his the possesive I need >:D but at the same time its kinda... lovely how he abducted us like we were a stray cat and never letting us go out but also respecting our privacy by having his own room too. Yeah he has his own room but he comes to yours becuase he likes sleeping with you better. Anyways hope you enjoyed it hehe ^^🐧

Tags are in the comment

[rikkahonyaku]

Japan Housing Websites (part two)

Want to move to Japan? Me too! A while ago, I made a post with some key vocabulary for navigating Japanese real estate websites. This time, I'd like to highlight vocabulary that will help you refine the search results until you find the perfect house.

After selecting the property type and narrowing down the area to search, you'll eventually be presented with a list of houses. Here's a convenient link to a list of houses in Tokyo so you can follow along: TOKYO(SUUMO)

Search & Sort Functions

The orange number at the top of the screen tells you how many total properties were found with your search.

The upper options all have to do with displaying the search results.

通常（つうじょう）表示（ひょうじ）：Regular Display シンプル　一覧（いちらん）表示：Simple Summary Display 地図（ちず）で　表示：Display with Map 表示　件数（けんすう）：Display Item Number

Below that, we have the options to sort the results. 並び替え（ならびかえ）：Rearrange 指定（してい）なし：No Designation

Click the drop-down to see all the different sorting methods, which I've translated below with my best attempts to maintain readability.

新着（しんちゃく）更新（こうしん）：Newly Updated

所在地（しょざいち）：Address 昇順（しょじゅん）：Ascending 降順（こうじゅん）：Descending

価格（かかく）：Price 安い（やすい）：Low / "Lowest" 高い（たかい）：High / "Highest"

土地（とち）面積（めんせき）：Land Area 建物（たてもの）面積（めんせき）：Building Area 広い（ひろい）：Wide / Large 狭い（せまい）：Narrow / Small

築年月（ちくねんがつ）："Years Since Construction" 新しい（あたらしい）：New / Newest 古い（ふるい）：Old / Oldest

More Filters

To the right of the house list, you'll see a thin section that will allow for more general filters to refine your search.

絞り込み（しぼりこみ）条件（じょうけん）：Refine Conditions

Under this section are a few familiar words: Price (価格), Land Area (土地面積), and Building Area (建物面積). Below each section is the same two drop-down options:

下限（かげん）なし：No Min Limit 上限（じょうげん）なし：No Max Limit

The drop down will let you set the minimum and maximum value for each section. For example: ５００万円以上（いじょう）〜１０００万円未満（みまん） Above 5 million yen 〜 Below 10 million yen

The next section deals with the amount of rooms in the house.

間取り（まどり）：Layout 1K/DK/LDK：1 bedroom houses (plus a kitchen (K), or a kitchen + dining room (DK), or a kitchen + dining room + living room (LDK))

Because public transit is so common in Japan, you also have the option to choose how far away from a train station your house is.

駅（えき）徒歩（とほ）：Station Walk In the drop down, you can select the maximum distance in minutes you'd like to be located from a station. １０分　以内（いない）：Within 10 minutes

バス　含む（ふくむ）：Include Bus Stations Some rural locations might be far away from train stations, so you can select this option here to include bus stations as well!

The End.

Here's the complete vocab list for ease of viewing:

通常（つうじょう）：Regular / Normal 表示（ひょうじ）：Display 一覧（いちらん）：Glance / Summary 地図（ちず）：Map 件数（けんすう）：Item Number 並び替え（ならびかえ）：Rearrange 指定（してい）：Designation 新着（しんちゃく）：New Arrivals 更新（こうしん）：Renewal / Updated 所在地（しょざいち）：Address 昇順（しょじゅん）：Ascending 降順（こうじゅん）：Descending 価格（かかく）：Price 安い（やすい）：Low / "Lowest" 高い（たかい）：High / "Highest" 土地（とち）：Land Area 建物（たてもの）：Building 面積（めんせき）：Area 広い（ひろい）：Wide / Large 狭い（せまい）：Narrow / Small 築年月（ちくねんがつ）："Years Since Construction" 新しい（あたらしい）：New / Newest 古い（ふるい）：Old / Oldest 絞り込み（しぼりこみ）：Refine 条件（じょうけん）：Conditions 下限（かげん）：Minimum Limit 上限（じょうげん）：Maximum Limit 以上（いじょう）：Above / More Than 未満（みまん）：Below / Less Than 間取り（まどり）：Layout 駅（えき）：Station 徒歩（とほ）：Walking 以内（いない）：Within 含む（ふくむ）：Include

[megalony]

Home Invasion

This is an Eddie x Buck x deaf! Reader imagine based on an anon request and I hope you will all like it. I will be doing a follow up part soon too. Feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When Eddie and Evan are at work, someone breaks into their home and (Y/n) ends up being attacked.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When (Y/n) walked through the hallway towards the kitchen, a tender smile tugged at her lips and her footsteps slowed as she walked through the kitchen doorway.

Reaching her hand out, she dragged her fingertips delicately across the whiteboard pinned to the wall next to the door. The large whiteboard had many small, laminated squares of paper blue tacced to the top of the board in two rows. Each square had a diagram on with writing beneath it and there was a plastic pocket taped to the corner of the board with hundreds more squares stuffed inside.

The board was for Chris.

With his cerebal palsy, Chris was finding it hard to learn and perform sign language. He needed more ways to communicate with (Y/n) when his signs were shaky at best and it took him a long time to form one sentence using sign.

So they got a white board with hundreds of diagrams and words such as morning, hello, dinner, out, car and other vocabs so Chris could string a sentence together for (Y/n) to read. They also had a large laminate poster stuck next to the white board to help remind Chris of simple signs he could use.

Both Eddie and Evan had mastered their sign language courses the moment the three of them got into a relationship together.

(Y/n) could speak, but since she couldn't hear her own voice, she never knew if she was pronouncing words properly, if she was being too loud or too quiet or if she was muttering rather than speaking. Talking made her self-conscious and unsettled and she preferred to use sign language. But Chris was slowly coaxing her out of her shell because he was working on his words and pronouncing too so it was like they were learning together.

And if Chris spoke slowly and tried to keep his lips clear and fluent, (Y/n) was learning to read his lips. His cerebal palsy gave Chris a different way of moving his lips and pronouncing so for (Y/n) it was like learning a new language. But starting to understand Chris's speech meant he didn't always have to try and use sign language. As long as she could understand him and he could understand her signs, they would be able to communicate well together.

A twinkling smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when she looked down at the whiteboard and read the two words scribbled along the centre which was definitely Evan's handwriting.

'Love You!'

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she walked over towards the sink and grabbed herself a cup. She flicked the kettle on and leaned her forearms down on the counter, waiting for it to boil.

It always felt strange to be home alone without any of her boys. Both Evan and Eddie were at work and Chris was at school. (Y/n) never knew what to do with herself when the house work had all been done and she had nowhere to be and no work to be catching up on.

Watching movies weren't as fun without the boys fighting over popcorn and throwing it around the room. (Y/n) figured she could do some art while she had the house to herself with the tv on as a background image to keep her mind occupied.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and slowly trailed from the kitchen through to the dining room. Setting her cup down in the middle of the table, (Y/n) moved towards the cupboard at the far end where she and Chris had their craft boxes.

But just as she kneeled down and went to grab her dark blue plastic box, something caught her attention out the corner of her eye.

(Y/n) turned her head to the left and leaned forward, but she wasn't sure what she had seen, or what she thought she had seen for a fleeting moment.

Her brows narrowed but after a few seconds passed, (Y/n) let out the breath she had been keeping in and turned her sights back to the box in front of her. Maybe she had left the tv on in the living room and the changing colours caught her perceptive gaze. Maybe she had left a window open and the breeze was moving the curtains.

Box in hand, she stood up and moved back to the table and started to rummage through for her paints and a fresh canvas. Evan's birthday was coming up and (Y/n) wanted to make something to go along with the adventure course she and Eddie had booked for him to go on.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when, just as she had a bottle of paint in each hand, she felt something tangle in her hair.

A hand.

Sharp nails scratched into her scalp. Fingers curled tightly into her locks. Knuckles pressed harshly into her scalp and the force sent her head jolting forward. The movement sent a shockwave running down the base of (Y/n)'s spine and something burned at the back of her throat.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes as her breaths started to run away without her.

Somebody was in the house.

Both her guys were at work and Chris was at school. No one else should be home except for (Y/n) and she had locked the door when she came home from taking Chris to school.

Someone had broken into their home. And (Y/n) hadn't heard them.

She wasn't sure whether she screamed or if she only made a whimpering sound but all the air pushed past her lips as her hands dropped the tubes of paint onto the table. She flung her arms out behind her and tried to scratch her assailant's arm and thrust her elbow behind her, aiming for whatever she could reach to unarm and hurt them.

Now (Y/n) was beginning to wish she had taken some kind of self defence class or at least joined Eddie and Evan when they went to the gym.

Her eyes snapped shut in panic and (Y/n) tried in the split second she had to brace herself when the hand tightened in her hair and she felt their arm pin down into her back. Whoever was behind her thrust her forward so hard and fast that her forehead bashed into the table, scattering the paints until they rolled onto the floor and (Y/n) could see stars twinkling behind her eyelids.

A roaring scream left her lips and she could feel her throat and lips vibrating from the action as her knees caved and she let go of the assailant to brace her hands on the table and hold herself up.

Tears burned down her face like acid rain and when she felt like he was going to smash her head into the table again, (Y/n) tried to push all her weight back and thrust her head back. She moved until the back of her head hit his chest and winded him enough for him to let go.

She needed to get her phone. She had to grab her phone and get out the house.

(Y/n) pushed herself up onto shaking legs and tried her best to bolt. Her hands grabbed one of the chairs and propelled herself forward while she tipped the chair behind her to try and trip him up and add some distance between them. She used the wall as leverage to push ahead and stop from falling when her knees started to buckle and her body felt desperate to collapse down to the floor.

Why couldn't she have been out when this happened? Why couldn't she be out for a walk or at the shops or even visiting her boys down at the station? Why did someone have to pick their house to rob and at the exact time that (Y/n) was home by herself?

She wasn't sure whether she said no or whether she just screamed something similar when the same rough hands clamped down on her arms and yanked her backwards.

She writhed from side to side, screaming as loudly as she thought she could just in case anyone walked past the house or the neighbours could hear her. It might make the burglar think she could hear him if she was screaming. (Y/n) had no idea if he would target her more if he found out she couldn't hear and could barely pronounce properly.

Her arms thwarted out but she couldn't block off the man's fist when he punched her in her lower chest, effectively knocking all the wind out of her and sending her down to the floor.

Where was her phone? Where had she left it? Surely it had to be close by now that she was in the living room.

Her heart plummeted down into her stomach when her eyes locked on the man as he reached out and grabbed the lamp from the side table. Was he going to try and hit her with that? With the right amount of force to her head he could kill her.

She rolled onto her stomach, scraped her feet against the floor and tried to push up again. Her body slumped over the arm of the sofa and she managed to curl her fingers around her phone before her eyes bulged in their sockets and her head started to thud.

He wrapped the lamp cord around her neck.

She couldn't breathe. The blow to her stomach had restarted her lungs which were gasping for air but now with a thin but strong white cord around her neck pressing into her trachea, she wasn't able to breathe at all. She scratched her nails into her neck deep enough to draw blood when she tried to pull the cord away from her throat and lean back into the man as much as she could to relieve the pressure.

Tears streamed down her face, her lower lip wobbled and her jaw clicked as she gasped. Every nerve ignited with terror and her head felt like it was swelling up with air and about to burst.

She wanted her boys. What would they do? Who was she kidding, Eddie and Evan were double her size and weight, they would have no problem fighting someone off and pinning down their assailant.

All (Y/n) could do was try and throw her head back enough to catch him off guard and keep pushing him back with her dwindling energy. She couldn't stop fighting, she had to keep moving. It didn't matter how much energy and oxygen she wasted. Moving was a better option than pretending to faint and hoping in vain that he might not choke her to death.

Her minimal force seemed to prove worthy when she knocked her attacker off balance and her fingers wormed in between her neck and the cord to allow her to pull it off her neck.

Sucking in a deep breath clouded (Y/n)'s better judgement and stopped her from bolting forward. One step and she would have been able to reach for her phone. But with her eyes blocked by white spots and her lungs heaving, she stopped moving.

Hands grabbed at her arms and a body pushed against her back, sending her falling forward.

She knew she screamed that time. Her body fell through the air and her arms coiled into her chest, hands smothering her face for protection when she landed on the coffee table. (Y/n) couldn't tell whether he had fallen into her but managed to stay standing or if he simply pushed her with all his might. Either way, (Y/n)'s shuddering body broke clear through the glass coffee table.

Her whole right side burned and bounced back off the metal legs and frame of the table. Glass splintered into her skin and imbedded into every inch of her right arm, her neck, forehead and her exposed leg.

When her head smashed into one of the metal legs, everything turned black.

***

"Eddie, Buck, my office please."

Eddie's head turned to the right and his hand tightened around Evan's shoulder when Bobby's voice hit his ears.

What had they done?

He didn't like the look in Bobby's eyes or the way he didn't wait for them, he simply turned on his heels and steam-marched towards his office, knowing they would follow in his shadow.

They hadn't done anything to warrant a private chat in the Captain's office. They weren't messing about or not doing their share of the chores around the station and they had done everything as normal on shift today. Neither of them were being unprofessional either. It was in their agreement with Bobby that they were still able to work together and be on the same shifts together, as long as they remained professional. Their relationship couldn't interfere with their work and they both made sure it never did.

Unease rattled through Evan as he grabbed his shirt from the bench and hurriedly slipped it over his head, folding his arms through the sleeves while he jogged to keep pace with Eddie and follow Bobby.

"Everything okay Cap?" Evan finished up the buttons on his shirt before he settled his hands on his hips. Neither he nor Eddie went to sit down because Bobby wasn't sat behind his desk. He was stood to the side of his desk, one hip jutted out against the corner with his hands tense and stretching at his sides.

If Bobby wasn't sat down, he wasn't very comfortable and that meant this wasn't a friendly chat.

"I've had Athena on the phone, there's been a situation at your house. You both needed to go home."

The pair shared a panicked, nervous look between them before they looked back at Bobby. What the Hell did that mean? What kind of situation? Did they have a fire, a gas leak? A flood? (Y/n) was supposed to be home today, was she alright?

"Uh, what… what kind of situation?" Evan wasn't sure he really wanted to ask but they couldn't go home until they had all the details.

"You've had a break-in."

"But (Y/n)'s at home. Was she hurt?" All of Eddie's muscles tensed up until they felt like elastic bands that were going to snap. He could feel goosebumps prickling across his skin and all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up on end.

"She was attacked, Athena said she won't let the medics near her, you both have to go now."

Before Bobby could usher his hands towards the door, Eddie was out the door and halfway down the corridor. His shoulders squared and rose up, his jaw locked so tightly his teeth were grinding down together and his hands were curled up into fists at his sides, desperate to pummel into anything within range.

Someone had broken into their home and attacked their girlfriend. Whoever it was needed to be found and kept away from Eddie before he killed him. (Y/n) wasn't a threat by any means, she was deaf and that made her vulnerable. Someone had gone and attacked her and neither Eddie or Evan knew how badly she had been hurt. They were lucky she hadn't been taken hostage or rushed down to the emergency care unit.

Evan didn't know what to say when the pair of them stormed out into the parking lot and Eddie jumped in the driver's seat of the jeep. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to drive, but Evan didn't have the heart to tell him to switch. He wasn't so sure he would be much better, when his mind wasn't focused he didn't pay attention when he was driving and he could space out. At least Eddie would remained focused and alert.

Evan clenched his hands together and leaned forward, pressing his knuckles against his lips to try and give him something to focus on but he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Do you think she's okay?"

"Don't." Eddie dug his fingers into the back of his head and scrunched up the short hairs in his fist, tugging until his nails scratched into his scalp. He wasn't having this conversation, not until they saw (Y/n) for themselves and knew exactly what they were walking into.

"She might be-"

"Buck! Look, if they haven't managed to get her to the hospital then she's awake and alert. That's a good thing, focus on that." Suddenly Eddie felt like he had told Chris off rather than having a conversation with his partner and when he glanced over, he saw the stern expression on Evan's face. And the flames burning within his blue eyes.

He reached across after a second thought and curled his hand around Evan's thigh, trying to apologise and give him some comfort at the same time.

Neither of them felt good when they pulled up in the drive. Two police cars and an ambulance were parked out front and the front door was swung wide open.

"Athena!" Evan jumped down from the jeep and bolted across the lawn to reach the woman he classed as a motherly figure. She was stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for their arrival with apprehension in her eyes and her signature sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"What happened?" Eddie pressed a hand to Evan's shoulder and side stepped round him to push his way through the door. He didn't like the look of all these officers floating about his home. There was a gurney laid useless behind the armchair and when he stumbled forward, he noticed the two paramedics knelt down on the floor, getting no where near (Y/n) no matter what they tried to do.

"The perp broke in through the back window, from what I can gather, (Y/n) must have caught him in the act. She put up a good fight. Your neighbour called when she found the front door wide open… (Y/n) won't let any of us near her."

Panic bubbled up in Evan's chest when he took in the state of their home, following Eddie into the living room.

The lamp was broken on the floor next to the sofa, a large dint in the shade and the bulb fractured on the laminate floor. Pictures were knocked onto the floor, pens and paint bottles were scattered in the hallway. And the coffee table was a mess.

Only the dark metallic structure of the coffee table was left standing. The glass counter was blown into millions of tiny shards littered all around the floor. Along with a broken mug, a tub of pens, a magazine and the tv remotes all merged in with the glass. But what caught Evan's eye was the puddle of blood right in the centre of the coffee table. Little crimson raindrops scattered across the glass and led a trail across the floor towards the far window.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Eddie crouched down on the floor, trying to be mindful of the blood splatters and fractured pieces of glass surrounding them.

He held his hands out in front of him and waited until (Y/n) lifted her head so she could see he wasn't some stranger trying to hurt her or move her against her will. He could see the paramedics had given up trying. They were sat in front of the tv with their medic bags at their sides, unable to do anything because they couldn't treat (Y/n) against her will no matter what injuries she had.

Tears stained her face but even more flooded her face when she looked up and realised the two people she had been crying for were finally here in front of her.

When Evan knelt down on her right, (Y/n) dropped her knees down to the floor and let her body fall into him. Her head tucked into his chest, her arms stayed cocooned against her chest and a horrid scream left her lips as she started to hyperventilate.

"Shh, oh sweetheart, shhh." Evan wrapped his left arm around her waist and curled his right arm over her chest with his hand cupping her chin. This thumb smoothed across her jaw and lips and his fingers splayed out on her cheek as he tilted his head down and smothered his lips against the top of her head. He knew she would be able to feel his voice vibrate against her skin when he hushed her. He gently swayed them back and forth, brushing his thumb soothingly against her lip and chin.

Her eyes snapped open and for a second her body pushed back into Evan when a tender hand rested on her knee but she realised it was just Eddie trying to get her attention. He needed her eyes open and focused so they could talk.

Eddie waved his index finger in front of his eye before he pointed at his chest.

Eyes on me.

He curled his fingers into a fist except for his index fingers and held his hands in front of his chest, moving his hands together and back like magnets repelling each other before he pointed at (Y/n) and spoke as he signed. "Are you hurt?"

When she nodded, Eddie's chest tightened and he knelt up straighter while he tried to control his expression and remain calm as if he were on the job. But call outs were never this personal.

"Let me see." He pointed at his chest before he pointed at his eyes and moved his finger from his eye towards (Y/n). He had to see what injuries she had so he could help her. She wasn't going to let anyone else near her and for now, she was wrapped up in Evan's arms which would make her feel safer and calm. And if it was Eddie who was patching her up since he was a medic, she would let him help her.

(Y/n)'s chest shook and hitched with each breath before she uncurled her arms from her chest and held them out towards Eddie like she was waiting for him to slap handcuffs on her. She didn't like the way his shoulders slumped and how he bit his teeth deeply into his lower lip with a grimace.

Before Eddie could reach out for her hands, (Y/n) lifted her shaking hands up to sign.

She pointed her index finger out and waved it up and down before she held both her palms out and moved her hands from her chest out in front of her in a forward motion, then finally pointed her finger at her chest.

He pushed me.

When she started to point and shake her hand, Eddie jumped when he heard Evan growl like an animal. Eddie snapped his head round to see what she was pointing at, thinking for a moment that the assailant was somehow back in the room with them. But then it dawned on him. She was pointing and looking at the coffee table. He had pushed her into the table.

"Check her arm, she's bleeding onto my trousers." Evan's voice was an octave deeper than usual and his breaths were coming out harsh and forced.

He didn't lift his head from (Y/n)'s hair and spoke into the top of her head while he continued to rock back and forth, something Eddie guessed was to calm him down more than (Y/n).

Reaching out, Eddie gently cupped (Y/n)'s wrists and pulled them to rest her hands down on his thighs so he could examine her.

"I'm a medic, I need your equipment. Now." Eddie clicked his fingers behind him towards one of the medics and waited impatiently for them to set the bag down by his leg.

(Y/n) had a deep gash down her arm just below her elbow which stretched down towards her wrist and Eddie could see little pieces of glass imbedded into her skin. He needed to tie a turniquet around her arm to cut off the circulation because Evan was right, the blood was pooling down onto his trousers and had been bleeding out for a while. She might have nicked a big artery or vein in her arm and they couldn't have her bleeding out.

Rummaging through the medic bag, Eddie found a deep blue turniquet band that he laid out on his lap before he looked up at (Y/n). He held his left hand out and made a grabbing fist before he stretched his hands out, stuck his thumb and pinkies out on each hand and shook them side to side.

Hold still.

Eddie slipped the band an inch higher than (Y/n)'s elbow and popped the button into the pin hole as tight as he could until the band bit into her flesh and she winced. It had to be tight to cut off the circulation.

Once that was done, Eddie grabbed a pair of tweezers from the bag and began plucking small shards of glass from around the wound. He was relieved only a few little pieces had imbedded into her arm but he knew a doctor would have to take a closer look so they didn't stitch her up with glass still stuck in the wound.

Evan rolled his lips together and began smoothing his thumb up and down (Y/n)'s jaw when she pushed back into his chest and began to cry harder. Her body shook when Eddie poured saline over the wound and cleansed it with an anticeptic wipe.

"There we go," He mumbled quietly when he packed gauze against the wound and wrapped a roll of bandage around her forearm.

With a deep breath, Evan moved his head down to brush his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek and his eyes followed her right hand when she motioned her finger up and down near her waist. She'd hurt her leg. He moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s hips and he gently eased her back into his chest while Eddie held the back of her knees and slowly straightened her legs out so he could assess them.

Shuffling forward beside (Y/n)'s legs, Eddie carefully cupped (Y/n)'s face and tilted her head down so he could check the cut on the right side of her temple. It didn't look to have any glass stuck in it and it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. But just as Eddie smile and kissed her cheek, his smile faded and he pressed his fingers beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head back until the back of her head was pressed against Evan's shoulder.

"Did he strange you?" Eddie's voice shook and he was glad (Y/n) couldn't hear the tremor in his tone while he hovered his right hand over his neck.

Pulling back, Evan leaned around to look down at (Y/n)'s neck and tears welled in his eyes when he noticed the thin, discoloured line around her neck. And his eyes followed (Y/n)'s hand as she held it up, pressed her fingertips against her thumb then flicked her fingers out.

Lamp.

He'd strangled her with the lamp wire.

"We're taking you to hospital." Eddie pressed his index and middle finger to his shoulder and swiped his fingertips down his arm in a straight line, then a sideways line across for the hospital symbol.

***

Evan pulled his shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair before he turned around to face the bed. A tender smile formed on his lips and he moved to stand near the end of the bed to face (Y/n) who was perched cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

"I have to go to work now, baby." He curled his hands into fists, held his left hand out and moved his right fist in a circular motion above his hand before he brought his fist down to rest on his left wrist. The sign for work.

He watched (Y/n) push up onto her knees and crawl across to the end of the bed where he was standing. His lips curved up when (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the middle of his chest. The sudden affection was more than welcome and Evan buried his face in the top of her head, breathing in her scent as his palms pressed down on her lower back. His elbows bedded into her waist and he moved to press his cheek against her hair.

He could feel the bandage on her arm rubbing against his neck and it made him shiver. Eddie had wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm every day for the past four days since the incident because (Y/n) had started to scratch the stitches absentmindedly when they itched and she was at the point of tearing them out. A bandage was the only way to stop her from making the wound worse.

When (Y/n) pulled back and tilted her head up, Evan moved his hands from her waist to cup her neck, his thumbs brushing across her jaw before he leaned down to steal a kiss.

He sucked her lip between his teeth and gave a sharp tug, relishing in the way her fingers suddenly dug down into his back.

Evan pulled back when (Y/n) scratched her nails into his back and nuzzled her nose against his before she unravelled her arms from his neck. She shuffled back a small pace so she could hold her arms out in front of her and Evan's face softened as he went back to cupping her hips instead. Waiting patiently for her to sign something to him.

Her hands held out in front of her with her index fingers pointed out and she raised her arms up to her chest, and then tapped her chest. Her hands then curled into fists with her thumbs stuck up as she rubbed her clenched fingers together. Then finally tapped the end of her finger into Evan's chest.

Can I come with you.

Evan's brows creased and his smile started to fade. Why did she suddenly want to come down to the station with him? He was going on shift, not going out to see the team for a night out. And Eddie was still on shift, he would be finished in two hours and would be on his way home to her.

"Why?" Pressing his fingertips to his temple, Evan then pulled his hand down and curled his fingers, leaving his thumb and pinky sticking out.

(Y/n) gulped loudly, flitting her eyes around until they settled on staring at Evan's chest as her fingers curled and she rubbed her hand in a circular motion over her chest. 'Please.'

"Why, baby?" When she didn't answer, Evan's jaw tightened and his shoulders hunched. He stuck his thumb and pinky out again with the rest of his fingers curled up and pressed his curled fingers against his chin and then pulled his hand away. "What's wrong?"

Unease rattled through Evan when (Y/n) simply repeated the same thing again, without looking him in the eye. Deep down she had to know Evan wasn't going to say no to her but she also had to know that he needed to know what was wrong. He wasn't going to ignore this or pretend she was coming down to the station for a visit when he could see the panic bubbling up in her eyes.

Curling his thumb into his palm, Evan kept his hand straight with his fingers tense and waved his hand from his chin in an outward motion before he pointed at his chest. "Talk to me."

A trembling set in throughout (Y/n)'s body when Evan's hands went back to holding her hips and he tilted his chin down to look at her properly. He hated the panic in her eyes but not as much as (Y/n) hated what she was about to sign. She didn't want to admit what was rattling around in her head but the more she thought about it, the more her body started to shake and tears started to trace down the bridge of her nose.

Sticking her pinky out, she pressed her hand into her chest, then stuck her index and middle finger into a crooked position before bringing her arms up and crossing her wrists in front of her.

Tremors set in her body by the time she curled her ring finger beneath her middle finger, left her other fingers stretched out and rubbed her ring finger around her chest.

Tears burned in the corner of Evan's eyes when he watched his girl cross her arms over her chest with her hands on her shoulders, then uncrossed them and held her hands up by the sides of her head into clenched fists.

'I don't feel safe.'

(Y/n) let her arms flop across Evan's shoulders and wrap tightly around the back of his neck when he pulled her into his chest. His hand pressed tightly into her lower back and his other hand moved to cup the back of her thigh. In one swift motion, Evan lifted her up from the bed and hoisted her onto his hips. Pinching her thigh until she got the hint and wrapped her legs around his worso with her heels resting comfortably between his hips.

He pressed his lips to the side of her head, sighing against her skin before he peppered hundreds of kisses to her temple when she quivered and started to whimper into his neck.

He should have seen this coming.

He and Eddie had taken the last four days off work to be home with (Y/n), neither of them wanted to leave her when the moment they came home from the hospital, she had a panic attack on the doorstep.

They had spent the last few days calming her down, helping with the panic she felt whenever she caught something out the corner of her eye. They stopped her scratching her arm, held her when she cried and wedged her between them during the night so she wouldn't wake during the night feeling afraid.

But it didn't dawn on Evan that (Y/n) would be this panicked about being alone. Eddie would be home in just over two hours. They both thought that was a small amount of time and (Y/n) might be okay being alone until he came back. Clearly they had been wrong. They should have thought about this more and prepared for this situation happening.

Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek until she got the hint and lifted her head to look up at him.

"I'll keep you safe." He spoke slow enough that (Y/n) was able to read his lips so he didn't have to let go of her. He tightened his hand around her thigh and leaned forward, burying his face into her neck with his lips sucking a mark into her skin.

He would keep her safe. He and Eddie would look after her and make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again. They hadn't been here when she got hurt the first time, but they weren't making that mistake again. And Evan knew they couldn't stay with (Y/n) twenty-four seven no matter how hard they tried, but they would do their best.

For now, Evan would take her with him to work and she could wait at the station until Eddie's shift finished and she could go home with him.

[roostersbby69]

I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley cross the boundary of being friends.

warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

Full masterlist

Currently, you were at the Bradshaws household with a bundle of paper laid out on the kitchen table. Each of you had a coke in front of you as you quizzed Bradley on the vocab words for this week.

“Adjacent.” You flipped the card and looked up to him who was pacing through the kitchen. You were sitting on the table and whenever he paced behind you you make sure to turn the answer away from him, Bradley liked to sneak a glance at the answer sometimes.

“The fuck?” He muttered as he thought for a second, “Uhm, something that is open.”

“Partially open.” You corrected him.

“Same thing.” He rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair in front of you. He grabbed your ankles and set your feet on his thighs and rubbed your calves softly.

“Cognitive.” You flipped another flash card and watched as his face scrunched with confusion.

“I don’t know.”

“Just try, that’s why we’re practicing.” You encouraged him.

He sighed and thought for a second, he admired your face and your smooth legs as his fingers delicately traced patterns on them, “I like you.” He blurted out.

“That’s not what that means.” You muttered as you flipped the card over and read the definition out loud to him. But he wasn’t listening. He was staring at you, admiring your lips, the way his old shirt still looked big on your body.

“No, I like you.” He repeated and watched a you looked up to him with a raised brow.

“I like you too Bradley.” You laughed and grabbed another sheet of paper. He shook his head and placed his hand on yours, stopping you from picking the paper up.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said slowly, emphasizing the word like.

You blinked and stared into his soft brown eyes for a second before comprehending it, “What? Me?”

“Yes, you.” He nodded, Bradley knew this long ago and had tried not to accept it as you were best friends since diapers. And he was pretty scared of your dad.

“But, we’re best friends.” You blinked.

He groaned and shoved his face in his hands and apologized, “Just forget I said that.”

Before you knew it, you grabbed his face and leaned in to place your lips on his.

Holy shit, you were kissing your best friend. The one who you took bubble baths with when you had sleepovers, the one where you shared ice cream cones with at the park, and the one who you had a crush on your entire life.

He stood up and wrapped his hands around your thighs and placed one on your ass to scoot you closer to him until your crotches met. You gasped into his lips and looked into his eyes as he barely pulled away from your lips and whispered, “My room?” And you nodded quickly.

Bradley recalled the “talk” his mom gave him when he turned 16 and how embarrassing it was. He knew his dad would’ve given it to him but he wasn’t here to do so.

“You need to be very careful.” She said and forced him to listen to her.

“Yes, mom.” He groaned and wished he were anywhere but here right now.

“Do you know what a condom is?”

“Yes, mother.” He rolled his eyes and rubbed his face.

“I would wait until later.” She recommended.

“Okay.” He mumbled and cringed.

“I just don’t want you to knock some girl up.”

“Mom!”

-

Four weeks later you were sitting on the toilet seat waiting for three minutes to be up, your legs were bouncing up and down and you were praying that it would come back negative.

All of a sudden, a fist was banging on the locked door. “Y/n? Y/n?” The voice chanted as it continued to beat on the door.

You sighed and got up to unlock the door and perch yourself right back on the seat.

Bradley barged in, chest heaving, and his phone in his hand, “You said code red.”

You nodded and wiped the tears from your face and sniffled.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He softly shut the door behind him and made his way to you, he crouched down and rubbed your knees.

“I think,” you tried to breathe as you tried to talk.

“Hey, hey, breathe.” He moved your hands from your face and replaced them with his, he rubbed your cheeks and wiped the tears away, “Breathe.”

You took a deep breath and collected your thoughts as the timer on your phone went off, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You met his eyes and the look on his face made you sob even more.

“What?” He asked as his face went pale.

You grabbed the test off of the counter and showed it to him, “Shit.” He muttered as he read the lines.

“I thought you were on birth control?” He asked as he took it from your hands and held it up to the light, examining it. He read the lines “Pregnant” over and over again.

“I am.” You cried and pulled your knees to your chest, “Bradley I think the test is pretty damn clear.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the test from his hands.

“I just…” he couldn’t believe it, “Fuck, your dad’s going to kill me.” He rubbed his forehead as he started to sweat.

“Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” You looked at him as he paced through your bathroom. When he didn’t reply you sighed, “If you don’t want to be apart of this you don’t have to.” You rubbed your eyes.

He crouched down in front of you and shook his head, “I’m not doing that, this is both of us and I’m not leaving you.”

Bradley watched as your lip quivered, “Hey,” he leaned down and tried to look at your face, “look at me, please.” He watched as you slowly looked into his eyes, “I’ll be here for you, it’ll be okay.”

He pulled you into him and held you to his chest as you let out the rest of the tears as he rubbed your back and cradled your head.

Even though this wasn’t what he had planned, he knew that he didn’t plan on leaving you.

—————————————————————

Part 2.

Authors note: just a little what if story. I love teen Bradley. I might make a pt 2 idk yet.

[study-diaries]

How to avoid distractions while studying.

.

Social Media.

I personally know how hard it is to study when constant social media notifications are popping up so i just turn them off. This is obvious and the easiest way. Keep your phone in another room while you're studying.

Youtube

Here's the thing, YouTube is something we can't avoid, especially when it comes to studying because many times, we want to learn from the videos but end up getting distracted and therefore, i maintain 2 accounts. One, a personal account where I watch all my own channels like vlogs and other content videos and another account only for studying. I don't subscribe to any other channels beside the channels that help me with my studies in this account. I've noticed that I get a lot less distracted because your recommendations would only be study related or the content related!

Write them down

When you're studying and you noticed that you're getting a lot of distractions. Take a paper and write down the distractions with the timings and then continue studying.

Distractions - Time

Phone - 20 min (specify time: 8:20-40)

By this, you can analyse what's distracting you more than the others and you can actually calculate your study hours better and help yourself improve it.

Reduce everything by 5 mins

It's okay to get distracted. Everyone gets distracted and the best way to decrease your distractions is to decrease them by 5 mins for some days and then keep decreasing them gradually. It's the best way to work honestly because it helps you remove the distractions over time as a habit.

Complete your chores before sitting down

You might know that whenever you sit down with a firm motivation to study and then you take your notes, books, materia etc and a voice from the kitchen comes saying"You haven't finished the dishes!" So, now you go to do the dishes and then another chore pops up when you sit to study and another and another. So, here's my advice, either you complete all your chores before you study or you complete them after or you could complete them during breaks. But make sure you're not distracted by them.

Turn daydreaming into a weapon

Personally, this is something i really really struggled with, like whenever I sit down to study, I ended up daydreaming about a certain book or plot. It would definitely not help me study so recently, I started assigning fictional characters to subjects and personally, like, gosh my economics was alittle more interesting when I was "teaching" it to Cardan Greenbriar (tfota). It's kinda childish to have like an imaginary friend or such but it certainly helps with boring subjects. Imagine scenarios or do anything with your imagination as long as you're studying the content. It helps you remember important points even though it may be absurd.

Q and A sessions

From time to time, get in the habit of quizzing yourself, I do it after every topic i complete. I'll ask questions which are not in the book, I'll twist the questions just like in the tests. This means that you have to stay focused if you truly want to answer the questions or even form the questions. You can even do it with a friend/study buddies!

Tennis method

This method is really useful and i kinda made it up. You hold your hands up in the air facing towards each other. Now, after you completed a topic, you "throw" your first point from one hand to another and the other hand should "throw" back the second point and so on until you're completely done with it. If you can't "throw" a point back in less than a minute, you need to revise more. Personally, I love doing this because I'm focused on answering and it's actually kinda fun "throwing" points like balls, even though it may look crazy to any outsiders xD (You can use this for maths for formulae, vocabs etc!)

Hope this helps! :D

[videnrambles]

Sometimes when I'm bored I like to imagine Yuuji teaching Gojo and Sukuna modern slang with Vocab cards. Just Yuuji in the kitchen with Sukuna's eyes and mouth and Gojo sitting across the table like,

Yuuji: *holds up card* Sukuna: Skib...Ski-ba-dy Yuuji: very good, now Gojo-sensei *hold up new card* Gojo: ...soos? Yuuji: very close Gojo-sensei but it's pronounced sus Sukuna: HA I WIN... what am doing with myself Yuuji: now Sukuna be nice, Gojo-sensei is trying his best Gojo: Yeah Su-ku-na, I'm doing my best Megumi in the hallway: What the fuck are you doing it is 3 am

[doc-pickles]

it’s enough to make a girl blush | adam larsson x reader x vince dunn

summary: after an accident, your husband helps vince apologize to you properly

warnings: alcohol mention, smut (oral f/m receiving, handjob, f/m, m/m, f/m/m, praise kink, threesome)

a/n: I actually have no answer for this one but i do blame @loulucifer for brainwashing me. so thanks. anyways enjoy!

xoxo

nina

Swedish Vocab:

Älskling - Darling

Raring - Dear

Skynda - Hurry

Adam’s guilty pleasure is that he loves hosting. A bit standoffish and broody, most wouldn’t assume him to be the hosting type but he takes great pleasure in showing off the home you two share and having his close friends within the four walls. 

Tonight was one of those nights where your husband took pride in hosting some of his teammates, cooking them dinner, and showing off the newly remodeled living room. The night had wound down to just a few stragglers sharing drinks in your living room, the room peaceful and enjoyable. 

“Älskling, will you grab some more wine,” Adam whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Promise everyone will leave soon so I can take care of you.”

You respond with a nod and a kiss on Adam’s cheek, his fingers squeezing your ass just enough to tease what he’d do later. He’d slowly been teasing you all night, another thing he loved to do while hosting. 

Quickly, you refill your glass of Merlot before turning to bring the bottle out to the living room but instead run straight into a solid body. Red wine drips down your light blue blouse as you let out a shocked yelp. Thankfully you manage to keep both the bottle and the glass in your hands as the person in front of you mutters apologies. 

“Oh shit, I am so sorry,” Vince Dunn, Adam’s linemate, looks at you with absolute horror. He scrambles, grabs the roll of paper towels on the counter, and kneels to wipe up the liquid on the floor. “I wasn’t looking and fuck I’m so sorry.”

“Vince, it’s no big deal,” you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you with wide green eyes. “I’m just going to run upstairs and hop in the shower. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Älskling? Everything okay?” Adam appears in the doorway to the kitchen and looks between you and Vince who’s still kneeling on the floor. 

“All good. I’m going to wash off the wine,” you slip past Vince and press a kiss to Adam’s cheek before whispering to him with a smile. “Skynda, raring.”

You make your way upstairs and strip before stepping into the warm spray of the shower. The one thing you’d insisted on when you and Adam had looked for a house was a large bathroom with a shower and soaking bathtub. The shower boasted two shower heads, a sleek black tile backdrop, and a huge glass door. As you close the door, the warm spray of the shower washes over you and you gladly sigh in relief as your body relaxes. 

Not even fifteen minutes later the bathroom door creaks open and you smirk to yourself before calling out to your husband, “I’ve been waiting for you, raring. Thinking about this moment all night long.” 

“Älskling, Vince wants to apologize to you.”

You whip around and find Vince standing in front of the shower entrance, looking anywhere but at you. Adam stands behind him, a smirk on his face as his eyes stay locked on the younger man and his flushed cheeks. 

“He’s shaking like a leaf Adam,” you tut as you look over Vince. “It was just an accident, no need to be so harsh.”

“S-sorry about the wine,” Vince looks up from the floor and meets your eyes, not daring to look anywhere else. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“S’okay Vince,” you assure him with a smile. He seems to calm down but as you meet Adam’s fiery gaze over Vince’s shoulder you know that trouble is brewing. “Raring-“

“Vince needs to learn a lesson, älskling,” Adam's voice is commanding as he lays a hand on Vince’s shoulder. “Strip.”

“But I-“

“Strip, Vince,” Adam commands. “So you can properly apologize.”

To his credit, Vince only pauses for a moment before he strips off his dark polo and shoes. His hands shake a little as he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs. He’s all lean muscle and long limbs, a stark contrast compared to Adam’s thick arms and legs and toned torso. 

“All the way,” Adam mutters once Vince is down to his boxers. “C’mon Vince.”

Finally fully naked, Vince looks younger than he is as he stares at you, uncertainty clouding his features as he meets your eyes through the glass of the shower door. 

“Go on,” Adam pulls the door open and pushes Vince under the warm spray. ���Kneel and apologize properly to my wife.”

You take a step towards Vince, your hands gently, pushing his shoulders until he’s on his knees before you. His eyes flick to yours, wide and unsure through the green haze of his irises. 

“You’ve gone down on a woman before, haven’t you Vince?” you ask with a smirk on your face as his cheeks flush. Even with the dark blush marring his cheeks Vince nods and you smile at him, running a hand quickly through his curls. “Good. Then you can make up for ruining my favorite blouse.”

Vince hesitates slightly before one hand curls around your leg to bring your body closer to his. His fingers drift up your thigh and slowly run through your folds, his tongue following their path. You let out a gasp as he slowly drives one finger into your wet folds and his tongue teases your clit.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out as you let one hand drift back to Vince’s now wet curls. “So good… Just like that Vince.”

You watch Adam observe the two of you, his erection straining in his dark slacks. His eyes meet yours just as Vince’s tongue delves into you and elicits a deep moan from you. You maintain eye contact with Adam as Vince continues to fuck you with his tongue, his fingers teasing your clit as he moves.

“Vince. So good baby,” you moan as your eyes flutter shut. “Such a good boy on your knees for me. So good for me, aren’t you?”

Vince nods and sucks your clit into his mouth just as Adam steps under the spray, his hands coming to squeeze your breasts as he pulls you into his chest. 

“He’s so good with his tongue, raring,” you gasp as Vince circles your clit again, your head falling back onto Adam’s shoulder. “So- fuck. So good. Want you to feel him, Adam.” 

Adams' erection presses into your back as he holds you close. In the same moment, Vince plunges two fingers into you and your orgasm claims you, your mouth agape as you tremble with pleasure. Adam holds you up as Vince continues to tongue you through your climax. 

When you come back down from your high Adam is kissing your neck, Vince’s lips pressed to your thigh. Adam is rutting against your ass but you push him off and motion to Vince who’s still kneeling at your feet, “Vince will take care of you, raring.” 

You smile as you run a hand down Vince's cheek, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he looks back up to you. His bright eyes are no longer clouded with uncertainty but with lust now, “Won’t you, sweet boy? Take care of Adam like you took care of me? Use your tongue so well for him?”

Vince nods before he looks with uncertainty toward Adam, “I mean… If Adam wants.. Then I-“

Adam cuts Vince off by leaning down to cover his mouth with his own. The kiss doesn’t last long before Adam breaks them apart and nods at you, “You take care of our guest, älslking?”

You simply grin as Vince greedily takes Adam into his mouth, a string of Swedish curses falling from Adam at the motion. You kneel behind Vince, pressing your lips to his neck as you trail your hand down his chest towards his dripping cock. 

“Such a mess for me, baby,” you purr in Vince’s ear, eliciting a moan from him as you ignore his dick and slowly move down to cup his balls. “You want me to touch you while you suck off my husband? Can you taste us both on your tongue?”

“Raring,” Adam warns. “If you talk like that I’m not going to last long.”

You blink innocently up at Adam as you whisper in Vince’s ear, “Such a good boy, using your tongue so well for me, for Adam. I bet you can’t wait to swallow all of his cum huh? You want him so bad, don’t you?”

With a grunt, Adam grabs Vince’s face and holds him still as he comes down his throat. A strangled cry leaves Vince as his own release spills over onto your hands. Taking everything in with wide eyes you keep one hand slowly stroking Vince while the other gently strokes Adam’s thigh. The feeling of the two of them in your hold has your heart beating in double-time.

“Raring,” Adam whispers, a gentle coaxing. “Raring, time to get up. C’mon my love.”

Your eyes open slowly, taking in the surroundings that are definitely not the floor of your shower. When you finally look around you’re met with Adam’s smirk as he looks down at you, one hand stroking through your hair softly.

“Good dream?” Adam asks and your cheeks immediately flush as you hide your face in your pillow. “Sounded good to me.”

“Adam…,” you groan as you peek up at him.

“It’s okay, raring,” Adam soothes as he grins at you. “But maybe Vince can join us soon, if you’re a good girl.”

[jam-pots]

"what's your hyperfixation meal of the week?" when I was a kid my parents used to have to ask the kitchen at any restaurant we went to for plain pasta with no sauce (even IN ITALY) because I would have a meltdown if I tasted tomato

Neurotypical people on tiktok have a serious problem of using words to describe neurodivergent experiences as normal vocab and it pisses me off bro omg

[latinare]

do you have any advice for improving my Latin vocabulary? my grammar fundamentals are strong but I always seem to be running up against my limited vocab

I struggle with this too actually! I've been slowly working my way through this list of commonly used words. Plus of course just using my Latin a lot, for both reading and translating. Seeing the same word on my list and in my readings and in my dictionary when looking up a synonym helps to cement it in my brain.

A few handy vocab tricks I've discovered over the years:

Say the word out loud while mentally picturing what it represents. Make as clear a mental image as you can. If it's a verb, make the motion of the verb with your body; if it's an item we still have around, touch or look at it; if it's an emotive word, use your voice or face to express it. The idea is to a) associate the Latin word directly with its meaning rather than going through the English translation every time, and b) engage multiple senses in order to form multiple neural connections for the word, rather than just one.

Pin your vocab somewhere you can review it while doing boring manual work, like above the kitchen sink. Then you don't have to carve out special vocab time, you just review whenever you're doing that chore.

Cognates. This involves digging into etymology a bit. See if you can find a word you already know (in any language!) that's related to the one you're trying to remember, like amare, amigo or amiable for amicus.

Best of luck!