#winnipeg jets fic

[senditcolton]

breakable heaven

summary: when Juliette Lucas wakes up wrapped in the arms of Adam Lowry - the man that she had pined after for years - she should feel content. but instead, she feels guilty. she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. she never planned on becoming the other woman. but when it feels this good, how could it possibly be wrong?

playlist word count: 17.5k warnings: cheating fic, smut (explicit in the beginning, multiple vague references throughout), angst, bittersweet ending

written for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange. to Celly (@cellythefloshie) with love.

Am I foolish for wanting this? It will end in flames, it always does. Maybe I like the way it feels to burn.

*~*~*~*~*

“Jules?”

Juliette Lucas can’t help but stiffen at the sound of the nickname. Not because of any traumatic memory or something of the sort. Unless you count the fact that the only person who ever called her that – her best friend from high school – left almost eight years ago without a word.

The person whose voice she could still hear in her sleep.

The same voice that was calling out to her from across the grocery store right now.

“Hey, Jules!”

She turns, muscles still tight with anticipation over seeing his face again. And there he is, Adam Lowry, jogging up to her from the other end of the breakfast aisle.

And, fuck, he looks hot. He was always attractive, even in high school but damn, the years had definitely been kind to him. Even in his simple joggers, plain navy t-shirt, and baseball cap, Juliette could see the muscle tone of his body. And the shadow cast across his face simply emphasized everything else: his strong jaw, the deep red of his facial hair, the bright blue of his eyes that were sparkling as he ran up to her.

“I look like shit right now.”

That irrational thought is the first clear present statement that echoes through her brain as she takes a quick glance down at her sweatpants and old tank top.

There is little time to worry however, because before Juliette knows it, Adam is front of her and the wind of his momentum ruffles her hair.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, smiling down at her. “Long time no see.”

“That tends to happen when you move away to a different province,” she replies, trying not to give her words a cutting edge. Although, Juliette can see that she wasn’t entirely successful based on the subtle way Adam’s face falls.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to visit but, y’know, life,” he attempts to explain, his hand reaching back to scratch the back of his neck. Juliette can’t stop the small smile that tugs at the corner of her lips, his nervous ticks the exact same ones he had back in high school.

A lot of things might have changed. But that didn’t mean the person standing in front of her was a stranger. It was Adam. Her Adam.

“It’s alright, I get it,” she replies, her voice softening. “Anyway, you’re here now. What brings you back to Calgary?”

“My dad was finally able to convince me to come up, mostly to see all the finished renovations they made on the lake house. And it looks really good. Although, I almost don’t recognize it which is weird considering all the summers we spent there, growing up.”

“Life moves on around you, whether you like it to or not,” Juliette laughs, knowing the feeling of time passing her by all too well.

“Speaking of life, how have you been Jules?”

“Oh, I’ve been alright. Nothing super new or exciting. Work is work, life is life. Same old, same old I’m afraid.”

“Well, considering the last time I really talked to you was eight years ago at graduation, I highly doubt everything is the same,” Adam teases and Juliette’s eyes roll at his jab.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

There is a small pause as the two of them simply look at each other. It had been years and that time seemed to stretch in between them like and ocean. One too expansive to cross right now, here, in the middle of a grocery store.

“Well,” Juliette says, being the first to break the silence, “I got to finish shopping. Need to get home and get ready a party later tonight.”

“Charleen’s party, right?” Adam asks. The statement sort of catches Juliette off-guard as she fixes Adam a puzzled glance.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“She invited me too.”

“You still talk to Charlie?”

“More like my parents still talk to her. She helped them with the renovation.”

“Right, her interior design business,” Juliette nods.

“Yeah, she was visiting today, going over a few last-minute details with my parents when I arrived and she invited me.”

“Cool. Well then, I guess I’ll see you there?”

Adam replies with a small nod which Juliette returns, grabbing her cart. She starts to turn away before Adam’s voice calls out to her again.

“Hey, Jules.”

She turns her head to look back at Adam and the pang in her heart is sharp and sudden as she takes in that smile, the one that shot her back to nights on her parent’s couch, his laugh echoing around the family room at whatever ridiculous movie he convinced her to watch.

“It was really good to see you again.” 

Juliette just returns his smile before turning away, hating the feeling of heat that crawls up her neck. She attempts to smother the thoughts and emotions that had been lying dormant, just long enough to finish her shopping.

After checking the last things off her list, paying, and packing up her Jeep, Juliette starts her drive home. And as the scenery passes her by, the memories come flooding back as fast as the wind.

He was back. Adam was back, after all these years. And his presence had awakened the feelings that Juliette thought she had banished long ago. It was beyond cliché, falling for her high school best friend. But in her defense, she never expected to. There was just one day when she realized that she wanted him as more than just a best friend.

Unfortunately, that realization came too late, arriving right before Adam was about to leave for Winnipeg to start his professional hockey career. She should have told him then, before he was gone. But she didn’t, out of fear of ruining their friendship and losing her best friend to something worse than distance. Something that couldn’t be recovered from.

But… she lost him anyway.

Juliette sighs, snapping herself out of her reverie as she pulls into her apartment complex. Her mind is still filled with static on the elevator ride up and the static remains as she puts her groceries away and starts to get ready for Charleen’s party.

After a quick shower and some makeup, Juliette finds herself standing in front of her closet, flipping through her clothes, attempting to find a suitable outfit for the festivities. It shouldn’t be this hard; it usually isn’t this difficult. But Juliette would be lying if she pretended not to know why she was struggling. It was Adam, once again.

She wanted to look nice. Nicer than just nice. She wanted to look beautiful, gorgeous, eye-catching, stunning. She wanted Adam to see how she had changed. She wanted Adam to want to talk to her.

Or, simply, she wanted Adam to want to want her.

When her hand lands on a dress buried in the depths of her closet, one that she had almost forgotten about and yet was everything she could’ve asked for, she slipped it on over her head.

“This is a shit idea.”

That’s the thought repeating in Juliette’s head as she turns, checking out her reflection in the full-length mirror next to her closet, head spinning with the implications of what she was planning.

“Listen,” Juliette thinks, attempting to assuage the nagging voice in the back of her mind. “It’s just a dress. That’s all. I just want to look good for this party. No other reason.”

That was a blatant lie. This tight red summer dress hugging her frame was for one reason – or more accurately, one person.

After seeing him again, knowing that he was once again back in Calgary, back in her life and she felt just as strongly about him as she did in high school… well, how could anyone pass up the opportunity?

So, yeah, maybe she should wear the sexiest dress she could to the party at Charleen’s lake house. Maybe then her and Adam could stop tiptoeing on this fucking tightrope or at least, she’d know if Adam felt the same way about her that she did.

And, hey, if that didn’t happen and he left for Winnipeg at the end of summer … at least she looks hot.

A sigh escapes Juliette as she gently shakes her head, her mind once again reiterating how stupid of an idea this was. But she is nothing if not committed – even to her most ridiculous ideas. So, with another sigh, she grabs her white denim jacket and car keys and leaves the apartment.

The drive to Charleen’s is quick and even though Juliette isn’t ridiculously late, cars are already lining the street outside. She manages to find a spot off to the side of the house and hops out of her Jeep, her eyes flicking over the other vehicles, wondering which one is Adam’s.

If he’s even here yet.

There’s another quick shake of her head, another silent admonishment about how desperate she was acting, before she walks up to the front door, not bothering to knock, knowing Charlie would have left it unlocked for the guests.

As soon as the door swings open, Juliette is welcomed in with the sound of music being played over speakers and the chatter of other people. She slips into the house, kicking off her shoes by the front door before wandering deeper until she is on the edge of the living room, looking out at the scene of multiple friends and acquaintances, all laughing and drinking.

“Julie!!”

The screech of joy comes from Elsie, who bounces over to Juliette sweeping her into a hug, her own long blonde hair tickling Juliette’s shoulders. Juliette laughs as she is spun around by the sheer force of Elsie’s hug.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Elsie continues shouting, drawing the attention of a few people around them.

“Hi, Elsie,” Juliette giggles into her friends embrace, finally pulling away and meeting her bright gaze. “It’s good to see you too.”

“A drink! You need a drink!” Elsie says, mind going a mile a minute as it always did, grabbing Juliette’s hand and drags her to the adjoining kitchen. “Charlie stocked everything but people have also brought their own drinks so there’s plenty to go around.”

Elsie’s words are confirmed as soon as the two of them enter the kitchen, Juliette’s eyes almost bugging out of her head at the various alcohol cans and bottles lining in the kitchen island.

“There’s also a keg outside.”

“Oh, god, how long until someone does a keg stand?” Juliette playfully grimaces, turning to Elsie who shares her laughter.

“Corey already tried to convince some people to do one but thankfully, we aren’t at that point yet. I think we are trying to keep it somewhat classy.”

“Oh yeah, a bunch of twenty-somethings in a cabin with a ton of alcohol is definitely how we keep it classy.”

“Okay, the important word in that sentence was trying,” Elsie laughs. Juliette just responds with a shake of her head before grabbing a vodka seltzer and following Elsie back into the living room.

For the next hour or so, Juliette spends her time greeting and catching up with old friends as well as being introduced to some people that she didn’t know; mostly new romantic partners but some friends of friends. It seemed as if Charleen managed to cram almost all of their old homeroom into her lake house and everyone invited brought at least two other people with them.

Eventually, Juliette settled down on one of the couches, talking to Elsie’s twin brother Evan. It is in the middle of their conversation with when she hears a commotion. And when she turns her eyes towards the noise, she sees Adam walking into the room, the grin on his face and a six pack of beer in each hand, a bunch of people cheering around him.

She can’t help the roll of her eyes and the shake of her head at his entrance.

“It’s like he’s the next coming of Christ,” Evan jokes to her, reading her reaction.

“The local celebrity graces us with his presence,” Juliette quips back, causing a laugh to fall from the blond. Although, even with her snarky words, Juliette can’t stop her eyes from jumping back to Adam as he wanders back into the room, a single beer in his hand and the plain white t-shirt highlighting the warmth of his skin and the strength of his body.

“Have you talked to him?” Evan asks, pulling her attention back to him.

“We actually ran into each other earlier today, at the grocery store of all places.”

“And how was that?”

“What do you mean?” Juliette asks, her eyebrows furrowing at Evan’s question.

“Come on, Julie. You two were practically attached at the hip in high school. He came over to our house with you almost as many times as you did alone.”

“Yeah, but that was years ago. He’s off doing bigger and better things. Probably doesn’t think about me that much anymore.”

“Did you recognize him earlier today at the store or did he recognize you?”

“He did…” she replies, the words trailing off as she tries to uncover Evan’s meaning.

“So, he recognized you after almost eight years. That’s a long time, Julie. Plus, judging by the way his eyes have been attached to you since he walked in, I think it’s safe to say he remembers you well enough.”

“What?”

Juliette’s head spins towards Adam and is immediately met with his blue eyes locked on her frame. Eventually, their eyes connect and Juliette watches as a smile breaks out on Adam’s face as he tips his beer towards her in a silent greeting.

Juliette lifts her hand up in a small wave and as soon as the motion happens, her hand flies back down and she tears her gaze away, only to be greeted with Evan’s smug face.

“Shut up,” she mutters, taking another drink of her seltzer, the skin on the back of her neck heating up at Evan’s laugh.

“My god, you still have a crush on him,” Evan says. “Oh, this is hilarious.”

“Shut up Evan.”

“Nah, this is great. Eight years and you’re still pining over him.”

“I am not pining over him.”

“It’s okay, I get it. He was pretty hot back then and he’s only gotten hotter with age. Fine wine and all that nonsense.”

The look that Juliette shoots Evan is one of bemusement as Evan glances over towards Adam before jumping back to her.

“What? I’m gay as shit, remember? Besides, even if I wasn’t, I’ve got eyes.”

“Well, then, why don’t you go and talk to him.”

“Not my type,” Evan replies dismissively causing another snorting laugh to fall from her mouth. When she looks back up to Evan, the expression on his face is still teasing but Juliette recognizes the sincerity underneath his features. “Just go and talk to him, Julie. Even if it’s just as an old friend.”

Evan’s advice bounces around her skull, the proposition sounding so easy and so effortless. But perhaps it was that simple. Maybe Juliette was the one making everything more complicated than it had to be, adding to much weight to a moment that would end up being inconsequential.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, a heavy sigh escapes Juliette as she glances back towards Adam, whose attention was now directed to Marina and her new fiancé. She looks back at Evan, sitting patiently to see her next move.

“You’re like an annoying younger brother, you know that?” Juliette says, the playful tone lightening the blunt words.

“I’m technically older than you.”

“Yeah, yeah, technically,” Juliette says, lifting herself up off the couch, stretching her arms over her head.

“Go get him, tiger,” Evan quips, to which she replies with a quick middle finger thrown over her shoulder, an action which elicits another cackle from Evan as she walks away.

As she wanders into the kitchen, Juliette’s eyes scan over the assortment of alcohol laid out over the counters. The smart thing to do would be to grab another seltzer and nurse that for as long as possible. But she promised Evan that she would talk to Adam and if there was one thing she knew about Evan, he would continue to nag her until she did.

But considering the fluttering of her heart at the mere thought of holding a conversation with the man she still harbored feelings for, she knew she was going to need a stronger drink to help loosen her inhibitions at least a little bit. Just so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

Although, drunk Juliette could be an embarrassment all on her own. It was a calculate risk.

One that, after a minute of thinking, Juliette decides to take. She grabs some random mixer and pours it into one of the cheap plastic cups that were stacked nearby. She is halfway through adding the vodka when, for the second time that day, Adam’s voice sounds from behind her.

“Do you remember that time your parents let us make our own drinks?”

The smile that comes to Juliette’s face is automatic as she continues to focus on her current task, replying without looking back.

“During the Labour Day barbeque? Of course.”

“I think they ended up regretting that idea later,” Adam says, the edge of his words painted with a breathy chuckle. Juliette also giggles, grabbing her drink before turning to see Adam standing on the other end of the island.

“That was just because someone heard if you mixed blue raspberry vodka with Mountain Dew of all things, it would taste like a Baja Blast.”

“Well, I mean, it did.”

“Yeah, and that was the problem!” Juliette laughs, shaking her head slightly at the still blurry memories of her and Adam acting like complete fools. “I still don’t remember how many of those we managed to drink before falling asleep on the couch in the basement.”

“It sure was a night,” Adam sighs, his eyes darting away, looking down at the half-eaten plates of snacks that Charleen had laid out earlier.

Juliette watches as he reaches out to take a carrot, trying not to get distracted by how elegant his fingers looked. Her attempt was quickly derailed as it took Adam clearing his throat to get her eyes to snap back to his. She has to push away the blush that she feels rising, hiding her face behind her cup as she takes another sip of alcohol.

Juliette half expects Adam to call her out on it, never one to pass up an opportunity to tease her. But he doesn’t. Instead, he once again shoots her that gentle smile and Juliette stops herself from taking another drink to quiet the pounding of her heart.

“What do you remember about the morning after?” Adam asks. His question causes another sigh of laughter to fall, his return to normal conversation giving her some relief.

“That I couldn’t eat for like a full 8 hours. As far as hangovers go, I never want to experience that again.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we don’t all have the tolerance of a professional athlete.”

“Hey, I wasn’t professional back then,” he retorts.

“Still an athlete,” Juliette sing-songs into her cup, the action making Adam chuckle and shake his head.  

“Fine, I’ll give you that.”

There’s another small pause and Juliette takes the chance to think over Adam’s words. The conversation had been pretty normal, reminiscing over the past as friends would, specifically a memory that was similar to the current situation. But there was one aspect of it that nagged at the back of her mind – a loose thread of sorts. And Juliette decides to tug at it.

“So, did you not wake up still drunk the morning after that Labour Day?”

“I mean, I was definitely hungover. But, uh, waking up the morning after with you curled up next to me… it made the splitting headache a little better.”

It takes a minute for Adam’s confession to register but when they finally do, Juliette has to smother the immediate surprise that his words bring.

Waking up next to you made it better.

The words spin around in Juliette’s head, burrowing into every crevice of her brain and stoking the flames of that every present spark of hope that was still burning after all this time.

Waking up next to you made it better.

The critical voice in her head chooses to speak up, telling Juliette that he didn’t confess to anything. Waking up with a hangover alone, or even with a complete stranger, would absolutely be worse than waking up to a friend.

“Shouldn’t have been that life-changing,” Juliette forces herself to say, attempting to brush off his words and pretending that they didn’t affect her as much as they did. “We’ve slept in the same bed before.”

“I know,” Adam replies, his own voice non-committal, his eyes once again falling away from her.

Another silence falls but this time, there is a tension with it. One that is suffocating and Juliette hates the feeling of it. Hates how it hangs. But she isn’t sure how to fix it. So, she does the one thing that she knows how to do.

Leave. Before things take a turn for the worse.

“Um,” she begins, calling Adam’s attention to her again and her words stick in her throat for a moment at the way his blue eyes pierce into hers. “I better be getting back. Evan was just about to tell me about his most recent terrible blind date.”

“Okay,” Adam replies. His eyes stay glued to Juliette’s body as she starts to walk towards the kitchen exit. “Talk to you later?”

“Of course,” Juliette hums, almost at the threshold to re-enter the living room. She is about to exit when Adam’s voice once again stops her.

“Hey, Jules?”

The nickname makes her turn back to look at Adam and a small trill is sent down her spine as she watched Adam’s gaze shamelessly rake up and down her body before their eyes lock again.

“You look really… pretty, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Juliette says, the compliment warming her from the inside. “You don’t look half-bad yourself,” she returns. A deep chuckle rumbles from Adam’s chest as he shakes his head, a move that was familiar to her; it was the response she always provoked from him whenever she did something amusing or embarrassing. Or both.

Juliette hightails it away from the kitchen, internally cringing at her awkward words before taking another hearty drink from her now half-empty glass.

If the night was going to continue like this, she was definitely going to be refilling her cup multiple times before the party was over. She spies Evan still on the couch, now talking to Thomas and Kristy. She darts over before sitting down next to him, listening to their conversation, both in order to calm her spinning mind and to join in.

It’s only a few seconds until there is a small lull in the conversation and that is when Evan shoots her a glance, one eyebrow raised in a silent question that Juliette doesn’t need him to voice to understand.

“Don’t even ask,” she mutters into her cup. Evan just gently bumps his shoulder against hers in reply and that casual ease is what finally allows her to relax, focusing on the talk around her and reorienting herself to the party that was filled with her friends.

As the party continues into the night, it slowly dwindles down. People take off, heading back to their own homes and families. The later it gets, the more the party shifts, from its previous riot to a more relaxed get-together. Eventually, Juliette finds herself lingering with the remaining guests, all of them huddled around the firepit constructed on the sandy lakeshore out back.

Juliette takes another sip from her cup now filled with water as she relaxes, listening to the chatter of those around her, breathing in the fresh air of the pines and feeling the cool sand beneath her bare feet.

She is so focused on the present moment that she doesn’t even notice Adam’s approach, didn’t see the way his eyes softened at the sight of her. The sound of him clearing his throat causes Juliette’s eyes to fly open, meeting his gaze in the low firelight.

“Is this seat taken?” Adam asks, gesturing to the empty expanse of the wooden log she was perched on.

“Not at all,” comes her easy reply, scooting over to allow Adam enough room to sit down. And Juliette cannot suppress the shiver that runs through her when Adam’s knee knocks against hers.

They sit there is silence for a moment, just the crackling of fire and the chit-chat of the people around them being the only noise in the night until Juliette breaks the silence.

“So, I hear you got a dog?”

“Yeah, Banks. He’s a golden retriever.”

Adam continues to talk about his new puppy, even going to show Juliette videos of Banks and his adorable retriever smile. The icebreaker leads them to finally take the time to catch up on their respective lives; careers, pets – or lack thereof in Juliette’s case, homes, and all the rest. Almost every detail, from the menial to the major.

Throughout the conversation, Juliette notices a few pauses in Adam’s speech; that he sometimes takes more time to tell her things that don’t seem complicated. Like he’s hiding something. Like he doesn’t want her to see all of him.

She hates it. Because even though there was still a small flame of attraction for Adam, she would be fine with just having her best friend back – the one that was never afraid to tell her exactly how he felt.

Which is what leads her to press a little further.

“So, life’s been good in Winnipeg?” she asks, leaning closer to Adam to really hear his answer

“Yeah. I mean, haven’t gotten everything I wanted yet but it’s still pretty good,” he replies, shooting her a small smile. She doesn’t have time to pry more before Adam deflects the conversation back to her. “How about you?”

“Eh, still figuring things out. But I have plenty of time to decide where I want my life to go.”

“You were always really good at that; just letting things happen naturally.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Juliette laughs, shaking her head lightly. “I think I’m just really good at disguising my true emotions which makes it seem like I’m easy-going.”

“Really? How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Like… relationships or dating for example. It’s easy for me to flirt with people I’m not really interested in. It’s easy because I know I’m never going to let them get too close to me. I don’t have to try so hard to be the girl they want me to be because… I was never planning on being their girl anyway,” she explains, the lingering alcohol in her veins loosening her tongue. She looks at Adam, watching as her words sink in, his brow furrowing.

“Was that true back in high school?” Adam asks. “Like, when you were dating Pierce, you weren’t actually interested in him?”

A small shocked movement goes through Juliette, surprised that Adam even remembered the guy she dated back then. She doesn’t linger on the knowledge that Adam didn’t seem to forget, even after eight years, choosing instead to shrug her shoulders before replying.

“He wasn’t looking for anything serious. And it was nice to have someone.”

Juliette doesn’t tell him that back then, Pierce offered her more than just a warm bed. He was also a placeholder, someone to help her suppress her feelings towards Adam. In a way, she had been disguising herself for years.

Her eyes jump back to Adam, who is staring into the fire pit, seemingly deep in thought. Juliette waits for him to speak, even though every second that passes feels like torture and the anxiety starts to gnaw at the frayed edges of her mind. Eventually, Adam looks back at her and there it is – that pang in her heart.

Because he’s looking at her with those soft eyes. An expression that she had seen only occasionally back when they were kids. An expression she never thought she’d see again.

“You know you don’t have to try with me, right?”

Juliette hears the words but they don’t fully register, don’t fully connect at first. She lets out a somewhat dismissive laugh, nudging Adam’s thigh with her knee.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re friends,” she giggles, glancing away as she takes another sip of water. There’s another small pause and Juliette thinks that that is the end of it. But then she feels the warmth of Adam’s palm envelop her knee, the touch causing her eyes to snap back towards him. His expression had shifted – still soft but there is a hardened sense of earnestness underneath it.

“No, I mean, you don’t have to try.”

The words are repeated, nothing new said. But it’s the way he says it that causes Juliette’s heart to skip a beat. The chill from the lake disappears as the heat floods her body. But unfortunately, while the heat comes in full force, so does the anxiety.

Why was he saying this? Did he really mean it? Did he know how she felt? Does he feel the same?

These questions and more spin around in her mind, rendering her silent, her eyes just wide and still, staring at Adam. She barely registers the shift in his own expression, her silence no doubt causing some doubt of his own to enter his mind.

“Jules…”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

The thought comes over her in an instant, cutting through the rest of the static in her brain. Whether he was going to comfort her, or rescind his words, or try to explain them more, she didn’t want to hear it.

“I need to get more water,” she mumbles, the words fall past her lips in a jumble of syllables, barely coherent. But it didn’t really matter when they were accompanied by the speed in which she lifted herself up, retreating back into the now empty house and into the kitchen. And as she fills up her cup again, her confusion resurfaces.

What the fuck was happening?

Was Adam trying to pick her up? Is that what that meant? And if so, why was she so scared of it? That’s what she wanted. That’s the reason she wore this dress. The reason she was here.

So, if it worked, if her efforts paid off, why was she running away?

Because it had never worked before. Not with any of the guys in the past eight years. It didn’t even work with Adam back in high school. Sure, she didn’t tell him outright that she wanted more back then. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t drop hints to him, hoping that he would understand them and take that first step himself. But he remained oblivious for those last few months and then he was gone.

And of course, now – now after years of not talking – he finally reciprocates. And that was terrifying.

It was easy not to be wanted, to be casual, to be friends. Nothing was real; there was no risks and no consequences to unrequited feelings. But now… if she took that step with Adam, whatever tenuous strand of friendship that they were still clinging to would be irrevocably shifted and changed.

What the fuck was she going to do?

Juliette heaves a sigh, walking out of the kitchen, debating on what her next step should be. Should she take the leap? Pretend Adam’s words didn’t tangle her in knots like they did? Fully run away by hopping in her car without saying goodbye?

Perhaps unfortunately for her, Juliette doesn’t have the chance to make the final decision. Because when she enters the living room, looking up from her glass, Adam is standing there waiting for her.

“Jules,” he starts, taking a step towards her.

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Why?”

“No one ever calls me that,” Juliette explains, her voice dismissive as she takes another sip of her drink, still trying to settle the pounding of her heart.

“No one? Not one other person has ever called you Jules? A friend? A boyfriend? No one?” Adam asks, taking a step towards her after every single question until he is standing in front of her, his body towering over her.

“No one,” she confirms, her voice faltering with the nerves still thrumming through her body.

“Only me?”

Juliette takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the words she was about to speak, knowing that they would be more of a confession than anything else she could possibly say. It takes a moment before her hazel eyes open, connecting to him.

“That nickname has only ever been for you.”

The words hang in the air between them and Juliette watches as they register on Adam’s face and her heart pangs when that soft, gentle smile appears on his face; a smile that was always reserved for her. Her heartbeat doesn’t settle when Adam’s hand lifts up to brush away the loose curl from Juliette’s forehead, his finger twirling around the strand before placing it behind her ear. His fingers don’t stray far as they move to brush along her jawline and she knows Adam can see the goosebumps his touch causes.

“What else is only mine?” Adam questions, his voice dropping impossibly deeper as his face moves closer towards Juliette’s.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“I need you to say it, Jules. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

This was the moment. There was more delaying, no time for hesitation. It was time for a decision. One that felt impossible for Juliette to make. But then Adam’s thumb brushes against her cheek, pulling her attention away from her thoughts and back to him.

“Don’t overthink it, Jules. It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice as delicate as his touch. “You don’t have to try with me, remember?”

It’s those words that cause that last wall to come crashing down, a shuddering breath running through Juliette. She closes her eyes, digging deeply for the strength to speak the truth that she had known for a long time.

“I am, Adam. Only yours. I think I always have been.”

Juliette’s response is enough for Adam to finally close the gap between them, his lips coming to press against hers. And even though Juliette could see the kiss coming, the feeling of it – the reality of it – still made her almost drop her glass.

Because Adam was kissing her. He was actually kissing her.

It’s Juliette that deepens the kiss, pushing up on her toes to press her body closer to Adam, relishing the groan that escapes him as his hands fly to her hips in order to keep her body pinned to his. Somehow, Juliette manages to find some flat surface nearby to set down her cup and as soon as the cheap plastic is out of her hands, they fly up to tangle in Adam’s hair, kisses never ceasing.

It feels like an eternity before Adam finally pulls away from her and Juliette’s eyes reconnect with his, registering the dark black of his pupils almost swallowing the bright blue of his irises.

There aren’t any words spoken between the two of them as Adam steps back. There was no time to speak before he is taking her hand in his and leading her down the hallway. Juliette was still trying to piece her mind back together after the dizzying kiss that she doesn’t protest as Adam drags her along, doesn’t question when Adam leads her up the stairs and into the second-floor bathroom.

She definitely doesn’t complain when Adam locks the door behind him and pulls her back into his arms, their lips connecting again. Adam uses his strong body to push Juliette against the sink countertop, a chill rushing down her spine as the cool marble hits the back of her bare thighs.

Adam’s hands are all over her body, pulling her closer to him, pressing her frame against his. A gasp falls from Juliette when Adam’s hands cup the back of her legs, lifting her up onto the countertop with an ease that sends another rush of heat down to her core.

Eventually, Adam’s lips fall from her own and begin to move across her jawline, down the smooth expanse of her throat. Juliette can’t help the way her hips roll when Adam pauses against her neck, sucking a hickey into her pale skin with a fierceness that is exquisite in its sting. Adam moves again, his lips trailing down across her collarbones, dancing across the top of her cleavage, before he pulls away to flick his eyes back up to hers.

“What else is only for me, Jules?” he asks, reiterating the question that led them here. “Is this dress for me?”

There is no hesitancy as Juliette’s response comes in an empathetic nod of her head. A whine escapes her as Adam’s fingers deftly trace along the neckline and she can hear him moan at the sight of her nipples straining through the fabric.

“Only wore it so you could take it off,” Juliette murmurs, slightly shocked at how Adam was able to pull the truth from her so effortlessly. The only response Adam gives is a low chuckle, his hands moving up to momentarily play with the thin straps between his fingers before he oh so painstakingly slides them off her shoulders.

Juliette lets him pull the fabric down, exposing her bare chest to the harsh light of the bathroom, another groan falling from his lips at the sight of her.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters before moving forward, his lips resuming their former place against her sternum, now free to roam further down. A soft moan escapes Juliette as Adam’s lips close around her nipple, teasing it and causing another involuntary roll of her hips. Adam pauses on her chest for a moment, to give both of her breasts an ample amount of attention before continuing to move his lips down, over the ridges of her ribs.

“What are you – ” Juliette attempts to ask as he sinks to his knees in front of her but the question is quickly cut off when Adam’s strong hands pull apart her thighs and his soft lips connect to the delicate skin.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he whispers again her inner thighs, lips slowly moving further up. “Tell me what else is mine, Jules.”

The shiver that runs through Juliette’s body is in response to Adam’s movements, her legs opening wider both to give him access and as a silent plea. If Adam notices, he doesn’t take the bait, his lips lingering just inches from where she wants him.

“What else?” he asks and a shuddering breath falls from Juliette as one of his hands sneaks up towards the soft grey cotton of her thong, the fabric flooding with her need as Adam presses a finger against her slit.

“Is this all for me?” he continues, his touch moving upwards to rub her clit, pulling a whine from Juliette as her hips jolt forwards once more. “Tell me Jules,” Adam softly demands, his movements never stopping. “What else is mine?”

“I am,” Juliette whispers, the words coming out shaky, not only due to the feeling of Adam’s fingers against her but also the lingering anxiety that laced itself between the syllables. Adam manages to hear that hesitancy within her voice and he tears himself away, looking up to lock his eyes with hers once more.

“I’m yours, Adam,” she continues, the gentle expression on his face calming her, allowing the truth to be spoken with ease. “All of me.”

Adam doesn’t give Juliette a verbal response but she can see the shift in his expression as he takes in her words, sees his lips uptick in a smile. He raises his body up slightly to allow Juliette to close the gap between them, pulling him into another kiss, her hands tangling in his hair once more. She moans into his mouth as she feels his hands sneaking underneath the hemline of her dress and finding the elastic waistband of her panties, pulling away from her lips as he pulls the fabric away from her core.

He shoots a quick smirk up at her before his large hands are pushing her thighs even further apart, the movement causing the bottom of her dress to slip up over her hips. Juliette barely has time to react before Adam’s head is ducking down again, his lips retracing their movement against her inner thighs until they finally, finally, connect with her core.

The sharp gasp that leaves Juliette’s mouth is the only sound that escapes as her hands tighten in his hair, pulling him impossibly deeper into her, an action that sends a chuckle rumbling from Adam’s chest, the vibration of it sending another jolt through Juliette.

The whines and moans only increase as Adam continues to move, his tongue dipping into her folds, groaning at her taste. His lips eventually wander up to wrap around her clit and the way he sucks, the way his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves almost causes Juliette to come undone.

“Oh fuck,” Juliette moans, hips rolling up to chase Adam’s lips.

“Yeah? Just like that?” comes Adam’s questioning voice before he repeats the movement, another high-pitched whimper falling from Juliette. “Come on sweetheart. I want you to cum for me.”

His simple request and the repeated motion of his mouth against her is all it takes for that peak to come crashing over Juliette, thighs tightening around Adam’s head before his hands lift to hold them open as his mouth continues its movements, eagerly lapping up her release, the vibration of his own groans causing her orgasm to be prolonged.

The crest eventually subsides, leaving Juliette’s still exposed chest heaving as Adam’s lips move back to kiss at the apex of her thighs. But before the desire completely disappears, before Juliette is slammed back into the reality of where she was and what just happened, another moan is pulled past her lips as Adam’s hand sneaks between her legs, his fingers once again coming to press against her slit, this time unobstructed.

“Fuck Jules, you feel so fucking good,” he groans into her soft skin, a finger plunging into her core, the welcomed intrusion sending another flush of heat through her body, no doubt painting her chest a more mottled scarlet than before.

“Adam,” she whines, the hand still tangled in his hair tugging him upwards. He obliges, lifting himself off his knees but still keeps his hand between her thighs, one finger pumping into her core before he slides another in.

The moan that escapes from Juliette is swallowed quickly by Adam crashing his lips back to hers, kissing her deeply as he continues his movements. Juliette breaks away from the kiss when Adam curls his fingers within her, the motion causing him to graze over that one spot that had her seeing stars. Adam reads her reaction with ease and is smart enough to repeat the motion, causing another delectable moan to fall from her.

Juliette’s eyes jump down to stare at Adam’s arms, taking in the the way his veins became more prominent with every motion, her moans becoming erratic as Adam once again brings her closer and closer to her peak. Without thinking, the hand that had she had been using to support her body flew to wrap around Adam’s forearm, as if to silently beg him to keep it there. It was an additional bonus for her to feel his muscles flex as his fingers continued move within her.

“That’s right darling,” Adam sighs out, his breath hot against the shell of her ear. “Give me another one. Prove to me that you’re all mine.”

His sudden possessiveness is what drives Juliette over the edge again, her second orgasm crashing over her. The feeling of her clenching around Adam’s fingers pulls a groan from him, one he muffles by burying his mouth into the junction of Juliette’s neck and shoulder, his lips and teeth marking her once more.

It takes a moment for both of them to catch their breath before Adam is pulling away, his hands and body retreating from Juliette’s. He doesn’t stray far, only taking one step back and Juliette can’t help but bask in the way his eyes rake over her still exposed body.

Juliette appraises him similarly, eyes jumping down to the bulge in his jeans. That sight renews her hunger as she slides off the countertop, not bothering to adjust anything before sinking to her knees in front of Adam. Her hands crawl up his thick thighs towards his belt buckle. She barely has the chance to start to undo the leather when Adam’s hands reach down and halt her movements.

“No Jules,” Adam says. “Not here.”

“But I want to,” she replies, looking up at him, her eyes still blown wide in pure need.

Adam reaches down to cup her face and Juliette leans into his touch, his large palm almost covering her entire cheek. Adam holds out his other hand to her and there is only a moment before Juliette places her hand in his. He pulls her off the tile floor, not waiting even a millisecond before pulling her into him again, lips crashing together. Juliette wraps her arms around him, reveling in the way he touches her and kisses her until she feels drunk. Adam eventually breaks away, his warm breath fanning over her cheeks.

“Let me take you home, Jules.”

Juliette response is an assured nod, desperation still fueling her actions and Adam can’t stop the small laugh that escapes him. Juliette feels his hands moving against her but this time, it’s to pull the hem of her dress down, covering her. She pulls the top half back over her chest and reaches for the denim jacket, oh so carelessly left on the bathroom counter. But when she pulls the fabric back over her shoulders, her keys fall out of the pocket and onto the tile with a clatter, reminding her of a small snag in their plan.

“Wait, we came here separately,” she says, halting Adam at the doorway. “And I’m not about to try and explain why I’m leaving my car here.”

“Right. Fuck, um,” Adam says, pausing with his hand on the handle, his free hand coming to run through his hair. “Do you want to lead the way?” he asks, looking back at her.

“Back to my place?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Juliette smiles, slowly walking over to him. She slides between him and the still closed door before lifting herself up to connect their lips again. Adam happily melts into the kiss, pressing her against the solid wood. Juliette lets her hands wander down, once again dancing over Adam’s belt buckle before dipping a little lower and she can’t help the satisfied feeling that rushes through her when Adam breaks from the kiss with a groan as she gently palms him through his jeans.

“If we leave now, we can be there in 15,” she says, not halting her movements as she captures Adam’s lips in hers again. This time, Adam voluntarily pulls away, reaching down to stop her hands before grinning back at her.

“You gonna break the speed limit?”

“Are you?”

Adam’s immediately grabs Juliette’s hips, pulling her into his body before lifting her feet off the tile, spinning her away from the door. She gasps at the ease in which he could maneuver her, the heat once again moving through her body at the possibilities his strength could provide as the night went on. Adam leans in to press a quick kiss onto her lips before moving back, his eyes heavy as he looks down at her.

“I don’t want to be away from you any longer than I have to,” he says, turning the handle and holding the door open for Juliette. She steps through, looking back at Adam with a mischievous smirk.

“Just don’t get pulled over.”

*~*~*~*~*

The morning sunlight shines through the cracks in Juliette’s white curtains, hitting her closed eyes. The concentrated beam causes her eyelashes to flutter open, softly groaning as she burrows deeper into her sheets. As she does, the weight of another shifts and Juliette’s eyes open to see Adam sleeping peacefully, the sun causing his hair to alight in a beautiful auburn.

Last night…

It was everything that Juliette could’ve wanted; everything she could’ve dreamt it to be. Adam made her feel… everything. All those thoughts and emotions that she had been holding back for ages, he brought forth with the touch of his hands on her skin.

He made her feel desired. He told her as much. And she had told him that she was his.

But words said in the heat of passion may not hold in the harsh light of day.

They needed to talk. Actually sit down and have a conversation about everything that had happened, every word said.

The conviction in her mind makes Juliette sit upright in bed, the covers falling from her body as she stretches her arms over her head. Perhaps she would make breakfast, or order in, or something. Food always seemed to help hard conversations become a little easier.

Juliette swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and right as her feet hit the floor, she hears the vibration of Adam’s phone rattling against the wood of her nightstand. She quickly circles the bed, intending to hit the lock button to silence what she assumes to be an alarm, as to not disturb him. Let him rest a little longer. But when the screen comes into view, she sees that it is not an alarm, but a Facetime call attempting to come through.

And when Juliette’s brain registers the picture and caller ID on the screen, her heart stops beating.

She doesn’t move, just stares at the phone as it continues to ring, memorizing the face of the girl wrapped in Adam’s arms in the image plastered on the screen; the blonde of her hair, her smile. The two hearts framing her caller ID.

The phone eventually silences but before Juliette can take another breath, a text message pops up.

Betty You’re probably still asleep. I forget that you’re in a different time-zone. Hope you had fun at the party! Call me whenever you wake up! Love you! Message received May 27th at 8:41am

Juliette doesn’t move; her feet feeling like stone weights, her heart collapsing in on itself like a dying star. She is so stuck in the moment where everything she thought she knew shifted on its axis that she barely registers the rustling of sheets next to her, the gentle groan of Adam rousing from his sleep.

“Morning,” Adam mumbles and Juliette can hear him turn his body towards her. But she doesn’t look at him, just keeps her eyes locked to the phone, her mind racing with the truth that Adam withheld.

He lied to her. He made her an accomplice in his infidelity. Turned her into something she never wanted to be. The temptress, the mistress, the other woman.

“Jules?”

There’s that fucking nickname again, falling from his lips and Juliette doesn’t want to acknowledge the ache in her heart when she hears him say her name like that. Because she knows that she would do anything he asked if he would just say it again.

She clenches her jaw and finally tears her eyes away from the nightstand, moving to look at Adam laying in the messy sheets. And when her hazel eyes connect to his, she wishes she could erase the feeling of desire that comes rushing to the surface.

Because he is not hers to want.

She knows that now.

“Who’s Betty?”

The words echo around her bedroom and Juliette can feel them hanging in the air as she watches Adam’s brow furrow before the realization drops. And he looks as if he’s been shot.

“Good,” she thinks. He should feel disgusted for what he did. For lying to her. For leading her on.

“Jules, I can explain,” Adam begins but Juliette cuts him off with a scoff.

“You can explain? Explain what, Adam? That you –”

Juliette spins away from him, her hand coming up to her mouth. She didn’t want to say the words, didn’t want to speak the truth into existence. But there was no avoiding this.

“Who is she?” she asks again, not bothering to turn around to face Adam again, instead choosing to stare out the window at the rising sun, not caring if the light caused her eyes to water. The tears would’ve come eventually. Better to blame it on something else instead of the feeling of her heart shattering.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Adam confesses, his voice soft with defeat.

Another scoff falls from Juliette as her lips purse, her head slightly shaking. Her arms cross in front of her stomach as she continues to look forward. She tries to ignore the sound of Adam sliding out from underneath her sheets, the gentle sound of his footsteps crossing the short distance between them, the heat of his body behind her. She ignores it until she can’t, when his hands slide across her arms before stopping over hers, holding her in his embrace.

She should push him off her, throw him out of her house and her life. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, barely breathes.

She just waits. Waits for him to speak. To tell her. Tell her what exactly, she isn’t sure. Because she knows that any word out of his mouth would just plunge the knife deeper.

The silence lasts for a long moment, neither of them brave enough to make the first move. Until Juliette feels Adam’s hands shift, moving to her biceps, gently gripping them.

“Jules, look at me. Please.”

She tries to resist the pull of him, not just the physical pull but the tug of her heart, begging her to listen even though her mind knew better. Eventually, she turns, her eyes closing, wanting to hold off on staring into those beautiful blue eyes.

It’s the gentle touch of his fingers against her chin that finally forces her eyes to flutter open. She can see his expression shift as he registers the tears on her cheeks and the blankness in her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Juliette can’t help the small huff of laughter that escapes as her eyes move away for a quick moment before coming back to his.

“For what? Sorry for what?”

“For not telling you,” Adam begins and – in a reaction that was long overdue – Juliette feels her sad numbness finally shift into anger.

“You’re damn right you should’ve told me!” she says, tearing her arms away from him and pacing to the other side of her bedroom. “What, did you think I would be okay with this? Do you think I wanted this?”

“You wanted this last night,” Adam mutters and the words sink in, causing the fire in Juliette to blaze higher, another scoff falling from her lips.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. I’m not the one who fucked someone else while they’re girlfriend was waiting for them two provinces away!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that! Stop apologizing to me like that’s going to fix everything. What the fuck were you thinking, Adam?”

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he says, turning towards her with a fierceness in his eyes that makes Juliette take a step back. “I was thinking; here’s this girl that I had been friends with for years, that looks more beautiful than she did the last day I saw her, and that looks like she wants me just as much as I want her.”

It takes a moment for his words to break through the fire that surrounded Juliette but when they finally do sink in, it smothers the blaze as quickly as it came.

Because it feelslike he is telling her the truth. The words he spoke… they don’t feel hollow. They don’t feel like words he spewed just to assuage her, to calm her. They feel real. But then again, so did last night.

Juliette doesn’t respond, just stays in place, letting her silence stretch until Adam takes it as a sign to continue.

“Betty and I…” Adam starts, the sentence trailing off as he tries to put his thoughts in order. “I care about her. I do. And I know it might not seem like it based on, well, everything. But when I saw you again… I don’t know if I can explain it. Something hit me, like I was seeing you for the first time.”

Adam takes a step towards Juliette, his footsteps delicate against the hardwood of her bedroom floor. He approached her cautiously, as if she was a wounded animal backed into a corner. Which she very well might be, based on how razor-thin close she was to shattering.

“I thought that I would die if I didn’t have you.”

Juliette can feel the tears start to well in her eyes and she tries to push them down. But it is futile as Adam’s voice continues to gently call, his hand moving to reach out to her.  

“Jules. My Jules.”

“Don’t.”

“Please.”

“Adam… don’t,” she repeats, the words growing thick with all the emotions that she had suppressed for so long. She feels the first teardrop fall the second that Adam grabs her hand, his touch pulling an involuntary reaction from her, like it did last night underneath her bedsheets.

“It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took me this long to see it.”

His confession finally causes the damn to break open and it is purely instinctive, the way she collapses into his outstretched arms, her tear-stained cheeks pressing against his still bare chest.

Juliette isn’t sure about the meaning behind her tears, her mind too jumbled to make sense of anything except the feeling of Adam’s strong arms holding her tight. He doesn’t speak; he just lets the emotions pour out, his lips burrowed in her hair. 

There is no denying how wrong this situation is. Nothing would erase the newfound discovery of Adam’s girlfriend waiting in Winnipeg, waiting for a call back. But right now, Juliette can’t seem to find it in herself to care.

Because although she isn’t sure what is true… this, here, being in Adam’s arms feels right.

And if it feels this good, how could it possibly be wrong?

Eventually, Juliette’s tears run out, leaving her only with small sniffles and red eyes. Adam is still holding her, one of his hands running calming circles against her spine. It takes a moment for her to gather enough to strength to push away from him, although she doesn’t go far, content to stay encased in his arms.

“So,” she speaks, brushing away any lingering wetness from her cheeks before looking up towards Adam. “What are we going to do?”

Her heart shouldn’t leap at the sight of a grin breaking out on Adam’s face. But like every reaction that Adam pulls from her, she isn’t sure that she would’ve been able to stop it.

“What do you want me to do? Or need me to do?”

“I mean, breaking up with your girlfriend would be a good start,” Juliette says, trying to infuse some light-hearted teasing into her words. An ease that is quickly squashed by Adam’s response.

“I can’t. Not now.”

“But you said –” she starts, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion before Adam cuts her off, an explanation waiting on his lips.

“I know. And I promise, you are the only one I want, I swear. But I do care about Betty. I can’t just break it off with her over a phone call while she’s a thousand kilometers away. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“So, what does that mean for us, now? Am I just supposed to go on with my life after everything you told me? Are we supposed to go back to how it was before yesterday; when I tried to forget you and you did the same?”

“I never forgot about you,” Adam says, his head ducking down to kiss her but Juliette turns her head before he can.

“You know what I mean, Adam,” she says, sending him a serious look indicating that she wasn’t about to let this go that easily. Adam sighs, shaking his head while shooting her a small smile.

“Always so stubborn,” he murmurs. “There is no way we are going back to never talking. I’m not letting you go that easily, especially now that I finally have you.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

Another sigh escapes Adam’s chest as he looks up towards the ceiling in thought. Juliette waits patiently, wanting him to take the reins in this situation. Especially considering that this… thing was his idea.

“I think it’s best that we keep this,” he says, pulling her closer to emphasize the meaning behind his words, “private. There’s no way I’m not spending another night in your bed for the rest of the summer.”

The sultry cadence of his words causes a rush of heat to rise to Juliette’s cheeks, her head turning away shyly. Or attempting to turn away before Adam catches her chin, pulling her attention back towards his.

“But we can obviously hang out together. Like we did back in high school. No reason that what we do behind these four walls would change how we act outside of them. How’s that sound?”

The question is directed towards Juliette and she lets the proposition sink in, tearing it over in her head. She would be lying if she said she didn’t have reservations. The proposal was an affair – there was no other word that better defined it. But Adam didn’t frame it like that. It was a necessary but temporary situation. Nothing more.

Juliette isn’t sure what makes her shake her head in agreement. If it was desire or fear or desperation. But she doesn’t get a chance to examine the driving emotion further. Because as soon as she gives her silent answer, that smile appears on Adam’s face, the fingers underneath her chin lifting her head up to meet his eyes.

“I promise Jules,” he whispers against her lips. “Just a few months. And then I can be yours completely.”

And when he seals his vow with a kiss to her lips, the only thing that Juliette can put into words is how good it feels to have him right now.

*~*~*~*~*

The summer drifts by and sometimes, Juliette finds her mind drifting with it.

Her and Adam continue their affair. Juliette hates thinking about it like that but there was no other way to describe it. She knew about Betty, about the girl waiting back in Winnipeg for Adam, about the girl who had claimed the spot of partner in Adam’s life long before she did. Juliette doesn’t like to think about Betty though, often banishing any thought of her from her mind. Because thinking about Betty would mean acknowledging her own role in this – the other woman.

But it’s easy to forget whenever her and Adam are alone.

Adam is intoxicating: the way he touches her, the way he kisses her. The hours she spends with him are exhilarating; stolen moments in his car, kisses shared in secrecy behind garden fences and in secluded hallways, evenings in her room with their hips moving in tandem, mornings when Adam dips beneath her covers and looks up at her, grinning like devil from between her thighs.

The voice in the back of Juliette’s mind remains, occasionally speaking up, telling her this is going to end – badly. That she is walking a treacherous path and eventually, she’s going to pay for the missteps that she is making.

However, that voice gets weaker and weaker as the summer goes on.

Because the way Adam treats Juliette… it’s not temporary. Or at least, it doesn’t feel like it is temporary. He doesn’t act like she is some summer fling, something to illicit excitement for a few months and then abandon as soon as the weather turns cold.

No, Adam treats her like this is it, like this is the one romance that he always wanted.

It was dangerous, falling for him again. It left her with nothing but heartache the last time, pining after him: the one that got away.

But then he came back. Fate brought him back to her and he was here now. He was next to her and he was telling her all the things she dreamed about hearing. His sweet words drowned out everything in her mind that was screaming at her, telling her this was wrong.

Because how could it be?

When she woke up next to him, watching the sunlight dance over his skin…

When he wrapped his arms around her and held her close…

When he told her that she was the only one for him…

How could any of that be wrong?

Yes, there were moments where she didn’t want to leave the comfort of the sheets that she and Adam were tangled in. Because leaving the privacy of her bedroom walls meant pretending that he didn’t send a fire burning through her with every look, every touch. And sometimes, she got tired of pretending. Juliette wanted to be able to hold his hand while they were walking down the street, wanted to kiss him in front of their friends, wanted to show the world that he was hers.

But Adam always soothed her, told her that this was the only part of their summer romance that was temporary. She just had to wait a little longer. Just until he saw Betty in person.

Just a few more months.

*~*~*~*~*

The cool breeze blowing in from the lake ruffled Juliette’s hair, the curls still damp and her skin still warm. Adam always loved to kiss the freckles that appeared on her cheeks after the hours she spent in the sun and Jules loved the feeling of his lips on her skin.

She wanted to feel them again.

They had spent the day at the lake with their friends and it was fun and enjoyable. It sent Juliette back to those high school summers where everything was simpler. Sometimes she still found herself wanting to go back there because maybe then she would be braver. Maybe she would’ve told Adam how she felt before he went away.

Juliette feels the warmth of a palm appear on the bare skin of her thigh and her eye dart from the passing woods to Adam’s profile, sitting behind the wheel as he drives her back to his house.

Maybe she could’ve been braver. But he was here now and that was all that mattered.

They had to pretend for the entire day, keeping a friendly distance from each other, only giving into the rising temptation in the backseat of Adam’s car parked in a secluded spot by the lakeshore after all their friends had left. Juliette still wanted more, not quite satisfied. Sometimes it didn’t feel like enough. But these stolen moments… they were enough right now.

And every touch Adam placed against her skin was weighted with the promise of something more to come as soon as the night took hold.

But they would have to pretend for a little longer – long enough to sit through a dinner with Adam’s mother, father, and brother Joel, along with Elsie and Evan. Just like old times.

Juliette is snapped out of her reverie by Adam pulling into his driveway, putting the car in park before smiling over to her.

“Ready?” he asks. Juliette lets out a hum, her eyes darting towards the front door, knowing as soon as they stepped over that threshold, their masks of ‘just friends’ would have fall back into place. Her eyes return to Adam, a playful glint reflecting in them.

“I don’t know if I want to let you go yet.”

Adam doesn’t hesitate in responding to her stalling by leaning over the center console, his hand coming to grip the back of her neck and pulling her close, pressing his lips against hers. She willingly surrenders to the kiss, pushing her body towards him, her hand lifting to grip his wrist and hold him in place. Juliette breaks the kiss, pulling away before nuzzling her head into Adam’s palm, looking up at him with her best bedroom eyes.

The shudder runs through her body as she hears Adam exhale, her lips twitching upwards in delight, loving the response that she could pull from him.

“We’ll stay for two hours, tops,” Adam says, his own darkening eyes dancing over her frame and Juliette can almost see the pictures flashing through Adam’s mind, her own body heating with anticipation.

“I’m holding you to that,” she whispers before fully removing herself from Adam’s touch, opening the car door and slipping out. She doesn’t wait for him as she walks up the front porch steps, swinging open the door and kicking off her slides before following the sounds of conversation, leading her to the kitchen.

When she rounds the corner, her eyes gloss over the scene quickly, noticing Elsie standing next to Adam’s mom by the stove and Evan talking to his dad Dave over on the couch. Juliette is about halfway into the room when the back door opens and Joel walks in, holding an empty platter and tongs with Elsie following closely behind him.

“Wait, Elsie?”

If Elsie was outside then who was –

“Adam! Guess who decided to pop in unexpectedly.”

It’s his mom Elaine that speaks and Juliette knows that behind her, Adam has just stepped into the kitchen. And when the blonde that was standing next to Elaine turns, the blonde that Juliette originally mistook for Elsie, there was no mistaking who it was.

Her face had haunted Juliette even since that morning in late May.

“Betty?”

Hearing her name fall from Adam’s lips feels like a gut-punch but Juliette forces herself to turn and watch as Betty jogs over to him. She tries not flinch when Betty jumps into his arms and Adam easily lifts her up. And it is only a moment before she presses her lips against his.

Juliette barely registers the scattered clapping coming from Adam’s family and their friends over the sentimental reunion and she shakes herself out of her shock just enough to politely join in. Her eyes stay glued onto Adam as he and Betty untangle, the smile pulled across his face, his blue eyes shining bright.

It looks so convincing.

“Surprise!” Betty giggles, holding her hands up in joy. “Miss me?”

“Of course, I did,” he replies, his hands resting on her hips pulling her into another hug, Betty’s head pressed against his chest. It is only then does his eyes dart over towards Juliette and she tries to keep her face as neutral as possible, not wanting to reveal any emotion that would complicate this now dangerous situation they found themselves in.

“How are you here?” Adam asks as Betty pulls away.

“A work trip. Not here, up in Edmonton but I decided to take an extended weekend to come surprise you.”

“Well, consider me very surprised,” Adam says and Juliette turns away as he leans into kiss Betty again.

She had to get out of this kitchen.

So, in the most casual movements that she could muster, Juliette walks over to the backdoor, pushing it open and wandering onto the Lowry’s expansive deck. She spies Joel standing in front of the grill, flipping the chicken breasts for dinner. Juliette goes to him for no real reason except for maybe distraction.

“Hey Julie,” Joel says once she stops next to the grill.

“Hey Joel. You got stuck with grill duty?”

“Looks like it. Dad didn’t want to today and you and Adam weren’t back in enough time so, here I am.”

“So, I’m partially responsible for your predicament?”

“Depends on if you were the reason Adam was late,” Joel jokes, looking over to Juliette with a smile on his face.

Juliette has to push down the heat that threatens to rise as the image of her and Adam in the backseat of his car with his hand between her thighs, flashes through her mind. Instead, she just laughs before her attention is pulled by Elaine and Dave walking outside, followed closely by Elsie and Evan. Adam and Betty appear last and she tries not to feel hurt at the sight of their hands intertwined.

She turns away, looking for another distraction, moving to the cooler placed in the corner of the deck. Juliette manages to fish out a beer and pops it open. But before she can even take a swig, she hears Adam’s voice sound from behind her.

“Hey Jules,” he says and she spins around and comes face-to-face with him and Betty. “Have you met Betty yet?”

Juliette once again must force a different expression on her face, one that disguises her true emotions (like the feeling of wanting to glare daggers in Adam’s direction) before turning to Betty with a smile on her face.

“I don’t think I have,” she says lightly, holding out her hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Betty.”

“Finally meet me? Oh no, please don’t tell me Adam has told you everything about me.” Betty laughs, taking Juliette’s hand.

“Well, we’ve been best friends since high school so he usually tells me everything,” Juliette explains, her eyes darting back to Adam knowing that he understands the insinuation behind her words. “But he’s only painted the best picture of you.”

“That’s good to hear. Want to try to make a good impression, y’know?”

“Totally understandable.”

Their conversation is interrupted by Adam’s dad calling everyone over to their outdoor dining table, ready to serve dinner. And as they all take their places, Juliette finds herself sitting next to Elsie and right across from Adam and Betty. Which means that all throughout dinner, Juliette is forced to watch the two of them.

She has to watch Adam with his arm so casually thrown over Betty’s chair, has to watch his head occasionally dip down to kiss her. She has to sit through a dinner filled with everyone talking about Betty and Adam: about their house in Winnipeg, about their golden retriever Banks, about their life together. An entire life separate from the world of this little Calgary lakeside neighborhood.

A life completely separated from her.

And when Juliette listens to Adam, hears his whispered words to Betty that float over to her on the late summer breeze… they sound so similar to the words that he whispered to her those early mornings, safe beneath her sheets.

Sometimes, Juliette focuses her attention onto Betty, watching as she effortlessly becomes a part of the moment, how she is so at ease with Adam’s family, and how she manages to make even Elsie and Evan laugh. And how in love she is with Adam.

Dinner ends as the night cools and after a few more drinks and a little more conversation, Juliette finds herself walking out the front door with Evan and Elsie close behind, catching a ride back to her apartment with them instead of Adam. For obvious reasons.

And it’s only a few moments until Juliette is curled up in the backseat of Elsie’s convertible, the night air chilling her to the bone as she watches the scenery pass her by, only slightly listening to the conversation being had by Elsie and Evan in the front. Until she hears Adam’s name.

“So, Adam’s girlfriend. What do we think?” Elsie probes, her question dancing on the air.

“She pretty cool. Although it seems kind of weird that this is the first time we’re meeting her but it feels like she’s already met Adam’s family,” Evan muses.

“Yeah, but that’s probably because they go to Winnipeg more than we do. Most likely they met her there along with the rest of Adam’s Winnipeg friends.”

“So, we’re just the less important hometown friends?”

“Well, maybe you are, Evan,” she teases before her twin brother smacks her arm. Juliette can’t stop the smile that tugs at her lips at their antics, a smile that is matched by Evan as he turns to face her.

“What do you think, Julie?”

“About you being less important? I suppose it’s debatable,” she laughs, joining in on Elsie’s teasing.

“No,” Evan says rolling his eyes, still hating whenever the two of them team up against him. “What do you think about Betty?”

Juliette’s smile falters slightly as she turns her eyes back out into the dark forest surrounding the street.

“She seems really nice,” she offers quietly, her voice almost lost to the wind. Juliette can hear a small hum emulate from Evan before he returns to face forward.

The conversation ends there, the rest of the ride to her apartment silent except for the thanks she gives Elsie and Evan when they arrive.

And when she collapses into her bed that suddenly feels too big for just her, she turns towards the empty side, picturing Adam next to her.

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Juliette registers is her jolting awake from a deep sleep, with the feeling of bile building in her throat, the early morning light filtering through her windows.

She didn’t remember falling asleep. She had no recollection of when she finally drifted off after hours of tossing and turning. But she did remember her dream.

She was standing in her bedroom, separate from her body, watching over the scene like a fly on the wall. Her body was in her bed and Adam was next to her, facing her, that gentle expression on his face as he looked into her eyes. His hand brushed the hair away from her face and Juliette could hear him whisper those sweet words; telling her that she was the only one he wanted, telling her that he loved her.

Juliette watched as he leaned in to kiss her, his hand tangling in her hair, pulling her body close.

It was a familiar scene, one that had played out almost every night they were together in the past two months. But as Juliette continued to watch, the scene began to shift. The body lying next to Adam starts to change: her curls straighten, her dark hair begins to lighten, the freckles on her skin disappear. And when Adam breaks the kiss, the girl below him isn’t Juliette.

It’s Betty, looking up at Adam with her beautiful brown eyes.

Juliette couldn’t look away, watching as Adam brushes back her blonde hair before whispering that he missed her. That two months away from her felt like torture. That he thought he would die if he didn’t have her in his arms.

The same thing he told Juliette that first morning.

She watched the soft smile break across Betty’s face and Juliette had to watch as Adam leaned in, kissing Betty once again.

Juliette’s hands rub across her face, attempting to scrub the dream from her mind. But she knows it is an impossible task, knows she will never be able to forget it.

That dream was a sharp shock back to reality, an upfront confrontation of the situation she found herself in. The situation that she had perpetuated.

This was what Adam was doing to her. This was what they both were doing to Betty.

Adam’s girlfriend was no longer a face on the screen. Her name was no longer something said in passing. She was here. She was real. And the truth would destroy her.

But what was the truth?

Was it the life that Adam and Betty had built together in Winnipeg? Or was it every moment that he and Juliette shared?

Juliette had believed Adam meant every word that he said to her. Back then, when this whole affair first started, she had to believe it. It was the only hope she could hold on to. But she never stopped to think that perhaps that was all it was – hope.

Enough to sustain her but not enough to feed her. No where close to what she actually needed in order to survive.

That voice in the back of her mind – the one that had been silenced as the summer went on – was back in full-force now, screaming at her. Telling her that this would be a disaster, no matter who Adam chose.

If he chose Juliette, Betty would be devastated. The life that she had built in Winnipeg would be destroyed and was Juliette that heartless to not feel a shred of sympathy for the girl whose life she was complicit is ruining?

But if he chose Betty…

Juliette pushes the voice back, silencing it before it could expand on that possibility. Because that couldn’t be real. Adam couldn’t take back everything he had said to Juliette, he wouldn’t. And call her selfish, call her a bitch, call her whatever you wanted to, but Adam was hers.

And he would prove it to her.

Betty was here, in person. Adam could talk to her face-to-face. It was exactly what he had told Juliette to wait for, to be patient for. And the universe blessed them by allowing the moment to happen here, in Calgary where Juliette was, instead of in a city two provinces away.

All Juliette had to do was wait a little longer. And then Adam would be hers. Completely.

Just like he promised.

*~* 3 days later *~*

She’s gone. Can I come over? Message received July 30th at 5:28pm

Door’s unlocked. Message sent July 30th at 5:36pm

*~*~*~*~*

Juliette hears her front door open and it takes all her willpower not to move from her spot on her bed. She hears Adam lock the deadbolt before his assured footsteps move through her apartment towards her bedroom. It only takes a minute until he appears in the doorway, his eyes landing on Juliette sitting on top of her sheets, back against the pillows.

The way his face softens when he sees her makes Juliette’s heart flutter and before she can blink, his long strides cross her room until his shins hit the edge of her mattress. Adam leans forward, his hands reaching out and Juliette feels his callused fingers wrap around her ankles. A gasp is torn out of her mouth as Adam grips her tight, pulling her down the bed towards him. His broad body covers her and he crashes his lips onto hers, throwing her legs around his hips.

Juliette’s reaction is instinctual, following Adam’s lead, legs pulling his hips down to hers, her hands coming to tangle in his hair. The kisses that pass between them are fierce, desperate, and Juliette can feel the desire pouring from Adam as his hands constantly move across her frame.

They move in-sync, bodies rolling against one another as Adam’s lips drift away, moving to her neck as his hands sneak under her t-shirt. Small moans are all that Juliette can muster as Adam’s lips continue to move across her skin, the feeling of his touch after three days of no-contact making her head spin.

A sharp gasp rips from Juliette’s chest as Adam gently bites her throat before moving over the slight indents, marking her. Claiming her once again.

But was she his to claim?

That thought is what jolts Juliette back to the issue that still lingered unresolved between them. The issue of Adam’s girlfriend. And the remembrance of Betty – of her blonde hair and deep brown eyes – crashes over Juliette like a cold morning dip in the lake, dousing the fire of passion that had been steadily building.

“Adam,” she says, her voice a little breathless. Adam does not stop, his lips still moving against her skin and Juliette tries not to get lost in the feeling. “Adam,” she tries again, placing her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to push him away. “Adam! Stop.”

Juliette finally manages to shove Adam off her, her eyes connecting with his as she takes in his puzzled stare, his hands dropping down to rest on her hips as he remains standing over her. The way his hair is mussed and how his pupils are blown wide causes an ache in Juliette that she silences, keeping it at bay until she has the answers that she needs.

“Is it over?” she asks him, propping herself up on her elbows, staring him down.

“Is what over?”

“You and Betty. Is it done?”

Juliette watches as Adam’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his reluctance is what causes Juliette’s frustration to take over.

“Jesus Christ, Adam did you break up with her or not?” she snaps, pushing Adam’s hands off her body as she sits upright, Adam retreating a few steps back, either in shock or politeness, giving her space. The answer seems to be shock when Adam speaks again.

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about’? She was here, Adam. You were face to face with her. You could breakup with her in person. Isn’t that what you were waiting for?”

“Jules,” Adam starts again, moving back towards his, his hands outstretched. “I –”

“No,” Juliette says, lifting herself up off the bed and placing a hand on his chest, stopping his forward momentum. “You don’t get to avoid this. Did you or did you not break up with her?”

Juliette can feel Adam’s chest raise under her palm in a sigh, his eyes turning away from her to stare out the window. The pause continues to stretch between them and because of that, because of how long it is taking Adam to tell her the truth, Juliette already knows what the truth is before he says it.

“I couldn’t do that to her.”

However, even though she knew those were going to be the words he spoke, it didn’t mean they hurt any less.

“Why not?” Juliette asks, feeling the cracks in her heart start to form as she stares at Adam, trying to decipher his expression, trying to see into his mind and find out what he was thinking.

“Because… she was only here for a weekend. And if I told her, she would have had to go back to our house and pack up and do that all herself. Jules, it would be cruel.”

“Oh, so you want to hold her hand through it all?” Juliette scoffs and it’s her anger that pulls Adam’s eyes back to her. “What makes you think she would even want you around? Maybe, if you broke up with her, she would welcome the distance. Especially when you told her about me and you.”

“She can’t know.”

“She can’t know what?”

“She can’t know I’m breaking up with her because of you.”

“Because of me?” Juliette asks, her voice incredulous and it is only then do the floodgates open. “Oh, okay, so, this is my fault now?”

“Jules, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Adam tries to explain taking another step towards her but Juliette holds up her hand again while taking a step away from him.

“No, no, I see how it is. I’m the one that lead you into temptation and now I’m the one demanding that you break up with your girlfriend. Is that right?” Juliette rants, the tears building steadily, her voice getting thick.

“Jules – ”

“Because she’s all yours. She’s the one you want. You would die if you didn’t have her, right? Because it’s always been Betty. Hasn’t it?”

There is a pause as Juliette lets her words sink in, lets Adam register and recognize them. The words that he whispered in this same bedroom every morning he woke up here. And when Juliette sees that realization wash over Adam’s face, she doesn’t even try to stop the small satisfied huff of laughter that escapes. Even though it ends up sounding more like a sob as the tears finally start falling down her freckled cheeks.

“Or is that me? Are those the things that you told me? Back when you promised that all I had to do was be patient and then you would be mine completely,” she continues, not bothering to brush the tears away. “You think that breaking up with Betty is cruel? What do you think this is? What do you think about what you’re doing to me?”

Juliette holds Adam’s stare, almost forcing him to look at her, to see how much he was hurting her. She wanted him to know there was no hiding from this, there was no running from this. This is what he did and now he had to face it.

“You can’t have both of us, Adam. If you want me the way you’ve said that you want me, then you have to choose me. Because I can’t do this with you anymore.”

The ultimatum hangs in the air, awaiting Adam’s response and Juliette hangs with it. She watches as Adam tears his eyes away from her, his head ducking down in defeat. He speaks again, his voice so soft that under any other circumstance, Juliette might be straining to hear him. But the words he says ring loudly throughout the room, ricocheting right into her chest and shattering her already fragile heart.

“I’m sorry Jules but… I can’t. Not right now.”

The words cut like a shotgun shot to the heart and she collapses back onto the edge of her bed, the hurt clearly painted on her face. She continues to look at him, hoping he would glance up and maybe take back his words. But when he doesn’t – when Adam’s eyes stay locked to the wooden floor, she finally tears her own eyes away from him, pushing back the tears that were still coming.

“Then get out. Get out of my house. Get out of my life,” Juliette chokes out, trying desperately to put as much malice behind the words as she could. “I never want to see you again.”

The room is silent for a moment until Juliette hears Adam move and the sound of his footsteps retreat, the distance between her and him growing further and further with every step. She listens to the sound of them fading, his departure finally punctuated by the echo of her front door closing.

And when that sound hits her eardrums, that’s when the rest of her strength gives out and Juliette’s head collapses into her hands, the tears now falling freely. She sits there and weeps; she doesn’t know how long for. She just cries until the tears are gone, until she feels like she has properly mourned the loss.

The loss of everything she could’ve had.

The loss of everything she never really had to begin with.

*~*~*~*~*

In the aftermath, Juliette attempts to heal. Attempt being the opportune word.

It is difficult, one of the worst breakups that she had ever experienced. Even though she didn’t know if this could even be classified as a breakup. What was it called when you lost someone who was never actually yours?

Still, the lack of definition didn’t dull the pain. In fact, it just exacerbated it. Her heart felt like it was cut open and she had to try to stich it back together. She had to sweep up the ashes of the once blazing passion that had now been extinguished. She had to try and move on.

But moving on was easier said than done. Especially when Adam’s ghost came back to her every night and every morning, she swore that she could still taste him on her lips. It became so bad that eventually she would just lie in bed staring at the ceiling fan, picking apart everything; every word spoken to her, every interaction they shared to see if there was an indication that this would be the inevitable conclusion, until sleep finally overtook her.

She spends days alone in her apartment, drinking every bottle of wine that she owned trying to erase Adam from her mind.

She ignores messages from friends, inviting her out to parties and hangouts because she knew there was a possibility that Adam would be there. And she wasn’t strong enough to face him without being pulled back into his inescapable gravity.

But the solitude doesn’t help either. Because in the silence contained within her apartment walls, all Juliette had was her thoughts. And her thoughts are anything but kind.

They were filled with the memories of Adam and her. They were filled with the knowledge that Adam is going to go back to Betty. It makes her sick to think of Adam holding Betty close, of him never telling her about what he did this summer, about Adam lying to her face and Betty being none the wiser.

But it also makes her sick to think about Adam holding Betty to him and continuing to build a life with her. Leaving Juliette and everything he promised her behind.

Juliette’s distance is eventually noticed and one day, Elsie and Even show up on Juliette’s doorstep, demanding to know what was going on.

And Juliette tells them everything. Everything.

She is terrified that they would judge her, criticize her for willingly going along with something so immoral for months. But they don’t. Perhaps it was because they felt sorry for her. Perhaps it was because they understood that while she carried some of the blame, she was more so an accomplice rather than the perpetrator. Perhaps it was because it was easy to blame the man that had only reappeared after eight years of absence rather than the friend that had been by their side for almost thirteen years.

Whatever the reason, they threw themselves into helping Juliette heal.

It felt like high school again; sleepovers at each other’s houses, staying up all night watching terrible movies, talking until the sun came up. Going to parties together and staying by each other’s sides for the entire night. And whenever they corralled Juliette out of a party early, she knew in the back of her mind it was because Adam had shown up. But she didn’t mind because it meant that they were watching out for her. And for that she was thankful.

There were still times where Elise drank a little too much, the alcohol loosening her tongue as she trashes Adam, cursing him for what he had done. And Juliette has to stop herself from defending the man that broke her heart. But those moments were few and far between.

Juliette never pushed away Elsie or Evan’s support, regardless of whether or not they saw things differently. Because without them, she was certain she would still be waking up alone, hungover and heartbroken.

However, while Elsie and Evan were a great help, Juliette was learning to heal without them.

At one point, Juliette started to drive to lakeside alone, late at night. It was there where she stood out on the shore, watching the moonlight ripple over the still water. Sometimes she would dive in, letting the late summer waves wash away any lingering heartache.

It was there that her examination of her relationship with Adam and the words he had said to her yielded a harsh truth; she had never known him. Nostalgia and lust twisted Adam into someone he wasn’t. When he was lying next to her, twisted in her bedsheets, he was an angel, washed pure by the flame he had ignited within Juliette.

That was the reason losing him hurt so much. Because in that moment, on that day in July, he told her exactly who he was. And the illusion had shattered.

Some nights, she wished he remained unknown to her.

Some nights, she wished he never came back into her life.

That way she could’ve kept the memory of the sweet boy from high school. The one who was assigned the seat next to her in homeroom because their last names were only a few letters apart. The one who welcomed her into his friend group without hesitation. The one who quickly became her best friend.

The person she fell in love with all those summers ago.

But that wasn’t who he was anymore. And so, Juliette finally learned to let the fantasy go.

August slipped away.

And so did Adam.

*~*~*~*~*

The strong knock on Juliette’s door pulls her attention away from the oven filled with sweet potato fries. She glances at her watch, confused that Elsie had arrived almost an hour earlier than she said she would. But Juliette shrugs, moving from the kitchen to the entryway, ready to let her in.

Maybe it was a good thing that Elsie was early. After all, based on how this season of the Bachelor was going, Juliette thought that it might be a good idea for the two of them to chug a glass of wine before even starting the finale.

Juliette doesn’t bother looking through her peephole, unlocking the door and swinging it open. But when she sees the silhouette of the person standing on her doorstep, she realizes that she should’ve at least double-checked to see who was standing outside.

Because standing there on the other side of her threshold… was Adam.

The man that she hadn’t seen or interacted with in almost two months.

“Can I come in?” he asks, the baseball cap perched on his head, his piercing blue eyes peering out from underneath the brim.

Juliette knows that the right thing to do would be to slam the door in his face. She told him that she never wanted to see him again and he had done a good job at disappearing from her life, just like she asked. But now he was back, standing on her doorstep, asking to be let in.

And before Juliette can think better of it, she’s stepping to the side, a silent invitation for Adam to enter her apartment.

He accepts, walking in and taking off his hat, his hand coming to run through his hair as he takes in the scene of her living room.

“The Bachelor?”

“Yeah, the season finale is tonight,” she explains, closing the door behind her, her eyes never leaving Adam’s frame.

“Expecting someone else?” he asks, vaguely pointing to the bottle and two wine glasses perched on her glass coffee table.

“Elsie.”

Adam’s reply is a hum as his eyes continue to dart around the room. It isn’t until now that Juliette realizes that he has yet to look at her.

“What are you doing here Adam?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of her, the sharpness of her voice finally pulling Adam’s attention to her. She hates the way her heart still lets out a small flutter at the sight of his expression softening as his eyes land on her.

“I just want to say that I was wrong. For not doing exactly what you asked me to.”

“What do you – ”

“I’m going to break up with Betty,” he says, cutting off her question. The words are uttered so fast that it takes a moment for Juliette to fully register them. And when she does, she can feel her expression twist from confusion to disbelief. Adam reads her reaction before continuing.

“I go back to Winnipeg in a week and as soon as I’m there, I’m going to tell her it’s over.  But I just wanted to tell you first.”

“Why?” Juliette asks, feeling her heart start to pound in the anticipation of receiving Adam’s response.

“I was hoping that…” he starts, his words stilted and awkward as his gaze reverts to darting around the room. Juliette watches as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he was readying himself to say the words he was about to speak. His eyes return to hers and Juliette can feel her breath catch in her throat at the fierce determination in his gaze.

“I still feel the same way that I did about you, Jules. You’re the only one for me and I’m sorry that I made you wait so long to hear me say this. I never wanted to hurt anyone but because of that, I ended up hurting you. I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

Every sentence, every declaration is punctuated by Adam taking a step towards her and Juliette doesn’t retreat, doesn’t move. Just lets him continue his steady approach until his hands are resting on her hips, holding her close.

“I want all of you, Jules,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of her head. “My beautiful Jules.”

It was everything that Juliette had wanted to hear, everything she waited for during those three months of sneaking around, of stolen moments and pretty lies. And perhaps if the two of them were still back there, back in the heat of June, back at the beginning of summer with all it’s hope possibility, perhaps Juliette would take him back.

But now, in the September chill… it was too little, too late.

“Let go of me, Adam,” she whispers, keeping her body stiff in his hold. She doesn’t relax until she feels Adam’s hands withdraw and it is only when she feels the space between the two of their bodies widen that she looks up at him.

“I don’t – I don’t believe you,” she says and as soon as the words hit Adam, Juliette can see the distance appear in his eyes. There is still a small part of her body that aches as she can see the defeat wash over him but she continues, not willing to let him strip away the strength that she found in his absence. “I can’t trust you, Adam. And there’s no way I can know that you mean what you say. Especially when you’re in another city, a thousand kilometers away.”

Juliette lets her words linger in the air between them, willing Adam to listen to her, to understand how he hurt her the last time he was in her apartment, when he went back on the same exact promise. The pause lasts for a minute or two before a small sigh falls from Juliette’s lips.

“I can’t go through this with you again.”

The rejection feels like a slamming door, shutting out any lingering warmth from a summer love that seemed so real. But even though it hurt and even though there was still a part of Juliette that wanted to chase the sun and bask in its light for a little while longer, she knew that if she did, she would just get burned.

Both her and Adam stand there, appraising each other and she knows that one of them is going to break first, one of them is going to take back the words just spoken. But it wasn’t going to be her. Maybe she used to be willing to give up everything to keep him close – because even though it would hurt, she would get to wake up next to him every morning – but she couldn’t do it now.

Finally, Adam sighs, understanding that he lost the battle.

“I understand,” he says, moving towards the front door, passing by Juliette with a brush of his arm against hers.

But unlike the last time Adam left her apartment, Juliette turns to watch him leave. Her eyes track his movement to the front door, watching as he swings it open. But before he steps out into the autumn evening, he looks back at her and Juliette can see the ocean waves of sadness in his blue eyes.

“Jules,” he whispers. There is an exquisite pang that echoes through the chambers of her heart at the nickname, the nickname meant only for her. A name that she will most likely never hear again. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

Her words are the final sentence spoken, Adam walking out and closing the door behind him. And Juliette expects that seeing him leave would hurt just as much as it did the last time.

But it doesn’t.

*~*~*~*~*

I think about us a lot. I don’t know if it’s the end of the chapter and you’ll return later on or it’s the end of the story. But I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry this is the way it became.

[hugshughes]

my tears ricochet R. McGroarty

Rutger McGroarty x fem!reader

synopsis - Based on “my tears ricochet” by Tay obvs. Reader is on the umich soccer team and when they lose the NCAA championship game, and Rutger is there, reader is confused and sad in a way that he would come to this game after their terrible breakup.

wc - 3.0k!

contains - reader is on the umich soccer team! lightly edited! angst!!!!!!!! then a sprinkle of fluff. reader has a panic attack and has trouble breathing, crying, descriptions of a terrible breakup, kissing, happy ending, lmk!

an - this was probably the hardest one so far, other than the last great american dynasty, which i promise is coming soon! ALSO. 200 FOLLOWERS????? THANK U GUYS! I swear I’m trying to speed up the process of writing these but it’s harder than I thought. I've been getting more requests than usual lately! You guys are all so cute btw. I've gotten multiple about Behind My Back with Nolan part 2 and it's on the way! I'm so slow at writing smut. Anyways hope you enjoyyyy!

-

we gather here, we line up, weepin’ in a sunlit room. and if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too.

The final whistle blew, the game was over. You crouched to the ground, palm flat on the field as you wept. You could barely breathe as the UNC team flooded the field, screaming in victory, group-hugging 10 feet from you. 4-3 in overtime. You dropped to sit on the ground, arms loosely wrapped around your knees as you stared at the crowd.

The sea of Carolina blue jumping up and down, smiling, shouting. The motionless pit of maize and navy, crying, grief, disappointment. In you. They’re all disappointed in you, that’s what you tell yourself.

Your best friend sits next to you, enveloping you in a hug, you hear her whimpers, you feel her tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head at you, hugging you tighter than ever before pulling away, holding your face, wiping your cheeks.

“No, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault. Okay? It isn’t. You scored 2 of our goals tonight, and you just did so good okay? This isn’t your fault.”

You looked at the ground, trying to catch your breath. You’re only a sophomore, you’ll have more championships to win. She didn’t though, she was a senior.

“This was just your last game, and I just- I let you down and coach and-”

“Honey, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You cannot blame this game just on you.”

You hesitantly nod, letting her help you to your feet. The rest of your team is hugging, some crying, some seething, some trying to smile.

You run to your coach, she opens her arms wide to hug you. She’s trying to smile, trying to tell you that it’s okay as you heave out the word sorry over and over, sobbing as you try to catch your breath, to no avail.

Your chest heaves as you try to breathe, but nothing is going in or out, you’re about to have a panic attack. You grip your jersey where your heart is, the navy material soiled from tears and sweat. Your coach lets out a curse as she realizes what’s going on, your best friend sees you, running over, holding your arms, trying to calm you down.

You can’t, you were warm before, but now it’s like you’re suffocating.

“I- I can’t! Fuck, I-”

The worse you cry the less you can breathe, but the less you’re breathing the more you’re crying.

Your trainer runs over, hand on your back as she urges you off to the sidelines. You know there are dozens of cameras on you, making everything ten times worse.

It’s time for you guys to shake hands but instead, you are urged off the field, down through the tunnel, and to the locker rooms. They sit you down in your designated stall, offering water, fanning you with random papers, holding your hands, everything as you start to breathe again. When you’re finally steadily breathing again, you feel embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry! Shit- I just-”

They just shush you, hugging you tight. You, as the star player of Michigan Women’s Soccer are informed you’re doing press with your best friend, the captain, now. You almost cry again, you know someone is bound to ask about your leaving the field early.

But here you are, sitting next to your best friend, holding hands under the table for some form of stability as you look at the reporters and flashing cameras in front of you, fans behind them.

Your best friend answers the majority of the first chunk of questions, you only chiming in a few times. Your name is called by a reporter, a question just for you.

“Would you like to comment on what happened with your early departure after the game?”

You tense, your best friend’s hold on your hand tightens, comforting you as much as possible.

“Oh um, yeah. So uh, I was having some trouble breathing and stuff and I needed to go back to the locker room. I apologize if I came across as rude to any of the UNC girls, I still definitely want to congratulate them.”

The reporter nods, and you get sad smiles from almost everyone you can see. You get another question about your performance.

“I think I definitely could’ve played better, I’m disappointed in my performance tonight, I’ve apologized to teammates and coaches. I did as well as I could in the moment, Carolina is a really talented group of girls. I-”

You see him, Rutger fucking McGroaty, standing at the back of the group, Ethan, Mark, Dylan, and a few other hockey players with him. Your voice catches, and your mind is blank.

even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? ‘cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. ‘til my dying day.

The eye contact is full of pain, you feel your heart stutter. Your breathing that had finally started evening out is suddenly picking back up, but also somehow slowing down? It just, hurts. Why was he here? Why would he do that to you?

What was he trying to do? Was he trying to see you? Was he just trying to watch the game?

You looked to your coach, the attention of the reporters on your best friend, with pleading eyes. She nods for you to leave, and you silently thank her, slipping out of the seat and discreetly exiting the room, having to walk right by the guys, and some fans along the way. You wave at a little girl dressed head to toe in maize and blue, your jersey adorning her little body.

You crouched down next to her, letting her grab your hand.

“Hi sweetheart, how are you doing?”

She smiles brightly, making your heart swell. She has your number drawn out on her cheek, and a Michigan temporary tattoo on the other.

“I’m good! It was fun watching you play, even if you couldn’t win. I saw you crying, are you okay? You still did really really awesome, even my brother thinks so!”

She gestures to her slightly older brother, a boy who looked about 8.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be okay. Well sweetheart, if you’d like it, I would love to sign your jersey.”

Her face lights up, she squeals and hugs you, which you accept. She turns around and you sign right next to your number on her maize jersey. She thanks you and squeezes your hand while taking a picture with you. You’re finishing up with them when her brother almost shouts.

“Are those the Mich hockey guys?”

You freeze, eyes darting from the ground to the little boy and then up to Rutger's shocked face. Rutger quickly puts his fan persona on, greeting the kids.

'cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. 'til my dying day.

You realize you're position, frozen and staring at Rutger in front of all these people, and you quickly turn to go. You get about ten feet when you hear someone quietly shout your name, then twice. Someone, being Rutger. You didn't wanna talk to him. You really did want to talk to him, you just knew you couldn't.

You are in the tunnel at this point, striding a few more feet to make sure no one can see you before stopping when he says your name once again. When you turn around he stares at you silently, his eyes filled with hurt. You wish you could run into his arms, but you can't, you can't.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace, and you're the hero flying around, saving face. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake?

"What are you doing here Rut?"

You could feel the tears lining your eyes, pushing to break past your waterline. He has the same tears, which hurt you even more.

"I'm sorry."

That you lost? That he came here? That he called for you? That he broke your heart?

"For what, Rutger?"

The tears were close to spilling for both of you. He lets out a shaky exhale, wiping his nose and sniffling.

"I- Um, everything? I just, I'm sorry."

cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

You didn't know what to do. Part of you was about to throw yourself into his arms while another part was about to sprint as far away from him as you could.

He stood there, quickly wiping a tear that fell. In this moment, losing the game was the farthest thing from your mind. Everything in your mind was just completely overwhelmed with him. At one point he was everything to you, you knew in part of you he still was.

we gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. some to throw, some to make a diamond ring.

When you and Rutger had broken up, it had been terrible for both of you. Rutger wasn't allowed to be alone afterward for two weeks, not that you knew that, his friends wanted to tell you and try to get you back to him but he wouldn't let them. He was too embarrassed by the idea. His friends begging for you for him because he couldn't handle a breakup? Please. What Rutger doesn't know is that you would've run straight back to him if you'd known. He was your lifeline.

Your relationship was like a dream, you'd started dating in July of 2022 and broke up the next May. You guys were inseparable, in a cute way. You guys were always there for each other, no matter what. But out of nowhere, in April, Rutger started freaking out about everything happening in his life. The team had just lost the frozen four, and he was just hurt from that and he was not himself. Even weeks after, when the other boys had seemingly gotten over it, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling in his chest.

The feeling started affecting other parts of his life, too. Specifically, your relationship. He'd become way cut off from you, and a lot more mean. It went on for three weeks before you broke up with him. You just couldn't keep trying when you were getting nothing back, even though it hurt you so badly to do it.

you know i didn't want to have to haunt you. but what a ghostly scene. you wear the same jewels that i gave you, as you bury me.

You rub your eyes before looking up from the ground to him, and then you see it. The ring he once gave you on a chain around his neck. He'd kept it when you gave it back to him.

You remember every detail about the night he gave you that ring. Where he'd taken you, how he held you in the cold of February nights in Ann Arbor. You remember his confession of love to you. How he was worried you'd think he was proposing, how he shakily opened the ring box when you got back to his room, and how he said he wanted to give it to you in your scenic snowy walk through a local park but had gotten too nervous. You remember how you kissed him, and how he brought tears to your eyes.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace. 'cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake? cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

Him being here, crying, apologizing, you losing the game, everything was just so much, but when you looked into his eyes he was still your everything. Your boy, the one that made you fall in love with every part of him, every crack and crevice, every flaw. He was still yours, no matter if you were together or apart. And you were his too, you knew that, you both did.

You can't imagine what your friends would think if you'd told them how close you were to kissing Rutger right now. They would never believe you, not after the months you spent trying oh so hard to convince yourself you were better off without him, no matter how false that statement was.

You knew you would need him, always did. He didn't know that though, when he would stalk your social media all summer, seeing you post in your little white linen dresses, having fun at the beach with your friends, he convinced himself he'd never get another chance with you. And you knew that if he tried hard enough, he could completely win you back, 100 times over.

and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, just not home. and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.

He was your safe haven, whenever you were with him everything was just good, you didn't have to worry about anything with him, he wouldn't let you. He was your person.

You just stared at him, thoughts running a thousand miles per minute. You wanted him, you needed him. You knew it, too. He was always gonna be the only man that ever came to mind when you heard a love song by Taylor Swift, the only man you thought of when you saw a husband and wife with a little baby on your for you page, the only one.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

He sniffled again, and you practically lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You started to cry again as his arms went around your hips, holding you so tightly. He was so warm, he smelled so good, he was definitely home for you if you had one. You felt his tears fall onto the base of your neck. He was mumbling i love yous and i'm sorrys like prayers. You just said the three words back, telling him it was okay because you knew it would be. As long as you had him.

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. cursing my name, wishing i stayed.

You pulled away from him, just a little, his tight hold on you barely let up, he couldn't let you go. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, looking into his now bloodshot, but otherwise beautiful blue eyes. You giggled, this was so crazy, you couldn't even believe it. Your amusement at the situation must've made Rutger feel embarrassed because he shook his head from your hold and buried his head into your neck. You could see his rose tinted ears. You ran your hands through his hair.

You had not the slightest idea what this meant for you two, but it definitely felt right, like you were whole again. You knew that he would come back to your life, you always felt it. And you knew you guys were gonna have to have a serious long talk about everything, but right now it just felt so good to take solace in him, acting like you were never broken up.

you turned into your worst fears. and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. crossing out the good years.

If you knew one thing, it was that Rutger McGroaty was your boy, and you were his girl. No matter how much time kept you apart you'd always find each other again. You loved him, too much to lose him. Especially now that you were both given another chance.

"Rut?"

He moved his head a little, adjusting his arms around your hips, grumbling out an 'mhm?'

"I'm really happy you're here."

He came out of hiding at that, smiling at you, you smiled back, partially because of how cute he looked with slightly puffy eyes and rosy cheeks.

"For real?"

You gave him a pointed look, 'duh', written all over your features. He smiled brighter, his perfect teeth on display, oh you so hoped he would never experience any teeth loss during his hockey career, even though he'd probably look fucking adorable.

"I love you. I'm not letting you down ever again, I promise. I'm gonna be perfect, okay?"

You looked at him like he had just hung the stars one by one. You shook your head mumbling something about how you loved him so much and he'd never let you down and he was already perfect in your book before pulling him into a kiss. He smiled so hard into the kiss, and so did you.

Even though you'd just lost one of the most important soccer games in your life, you'd just won someone that was more important than any soccer trophy you could ever receive.

and you're cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

[adelphenium]

a little kc + scheifs for @symphony7inamajor's kitty connor fic!💖

[huuuuughes]

Be My Forever - Laurent Brossoit

Pairing: Laurent Brossoit x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: lightly inspired by the song Ask You Tonight by Big Time Rush, linked here to give you the vibes <3

I'm gonna tell you tonight Everything you wanna hear And for the rest of my life Plus like a million more years You're the only one I wanna love The only one, this I promise ya If that sounds alright I might just ask you tonight

The way you had met Laurent was always one of those things that made you think. Both of you had just happened to be in the right place at the right time. You were a sports journalist, traveling wherever your station sent you at any given moment. But then your flight had been delayed and then canceled. Your only options of getting to where you needed to go were to sleep on the airport floor or rent a car and drive through the middle of nowhere central California, to Bakersfield. Sometimes you loved covering minor leagues, but at times like this, getting to the middle of nowhere was a huge pain in the ass.

It was late, almost midnight, and you were exhausted. Then Laurent appeared, apparently also from the flight that got canceled. He was coming back from a holiday break with his family during All-Star weekend, and needed to get back to his team. There was one car left at that hour that was ready to go, and he told you to throw your things in the trunk. He didn’t leave room for argument, and you had no idea if you were getting into a car with a serial killer never to be heard from again. Luckily he wasn’t, and that car ride was the best choice you could have ever made.

He liked to say that the universe was looking out for the two of you, putting you where you needed to be. Ever since then, you went through everything together. Sometimes your career took you away for long periods of time, and every year you seemed to be living somewhere different. You had decided early on that the two of you were in it for the long haul, you were there for all of the ups and downs that the sports world decided to throw at you. At the end of this last season, his one year contract had expired and he signed with another team. Which meant you’d be packing up all of your belongings and moving, again.

After ten years together, you knew the drill by now. You knew how to pack your things and in what order, even having a mover on speed dial. A lot of teams gave you assistance with that kind of thing if they could, and you’d always take it. The off season at least gave you a bit of time to rest, and gave you the opportunity to celebrate your ten year anniversary. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, hoping maybe that this would be the year a ring would finally appear on your finger. You always said the ring didn’t matter, because at the end of the day you loved each other and that was all that mattered. That’s what you told yourself anyway, but that didn’t stop everyone and their mom from asking when the two of you were going to get engaged or get married or have a baby. Soon, you’d always say, soon. It had been just the two of you for so long, you almost didn’t know how to adjust to something different.

Half of your apartment was in boxes, getting ready for the move to Chicago. But you’d saved a couple of choice outfits for this night, as he had been dropping some not so subtle hints of having big plans for it. Winnipeg had become kind of home, after being welcomed back to the team with open arms. It was a return to some kind of stability, and you would miss looking out the city lights of Downtown Winnipeg whenever you wanted.

“Are you almost ready to go love?” You heard Laurent yell from the living room area.

“Just a second babe!” You yelled back. You had on your favorite outfit, the one you wore that made him have googly eyes like a teen boy in a cartoon movie. The look that told you he couldn’t wait to rip it off of you later. Complete with the necklace he had gotten you on your first anniversary, and a few other pieces you had that you loved, you were just about ready to go.

The way time stops when I'm with you You fix me up like I'm brand-new Now I'm no longer waiting on forever love

“I’m ready!” You yelled, hearing him turn off the tv and jump off the couch.

Walking out into the living room you saw him turn around and bring his hand up to cover his jaw that was most likely hanging wide open. He studies you, walking towards you slowly. He never failed to make you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

“You look stunning, as always. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the way you look right now, love.”

“Flattery will only get you so far, sir. Are you going to tell me where you’re taking us?” He took your hand, grabbing his keys off the counter, and not even letting go of your hand so you could walk through the door.

“Nope.”

“Please?” You had a love hate relationship with surprises, and you usually had some idea of what he was planning but not this time. The man was bad at keeping secrets from you, knowing each other inside and out.

“You can try gorgeous, but you will not succeed in getting me to crack.” You watched him pat his pockets before getting on the elevator, he was making sure he didn’t forget something.

“UGH. Fine. You aren’t going to make me wear a blind fold in the car again are you?” He had blind folded you almost every year for a surprise. You hated not having any control over the situation, but he sensed that and took your hand again. Before you stepped into the underground parking garage, he stopped and pulled the eye mask out of his pants pocket.

“Before the car this time? I’m gonna trip and fall!” You even had heels on, which was a rarity, but also made you a higher risk for falling flat on your face.

“I’m not going to let that happen I promise. I’m going to lead you right to the car, and I’ll even buckle your seatbelt for you okay? Safety first pookie.” You tried not to laugh, he was trying to distract you.

“Don’t you pookie me, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, now please just trust me!” You nodded, letting him place the eye mask on you. You could feel the anxiety boiling in you as he led you to the car. He turned on your couples playlist, the one you started all those years ago when you first started dating. You had just been adding to it over the years, and it was the default on each anniversary or special occasion. The car ride was quiet, only adding to the anticipation you were feeling. You couldn’t sense a direction or any kind of pattern with his driving.

“We’re almost there, just a few more minutes.” He squeezed your hand before you heard him turn on his turn signal.

A few minutes later you felt him put the car into park. Getting out himself, he came around to open your door for you. He helped unbuckle your seatbelt, and guided you out. Once you were standing upright again, he kissed both of your cheeks.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, the anticipation is killing me!”

“I’m going to take off the blindfold now, but close your eyes at first and only open them once I tell you okay?” You nodded, and felt him take it off. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Okay, you can open them now. Happy anniversary my dear.” Once you opened your eyes you couldn’t help but gasp at the scene before you. This year was different.

There was a path lined with candles, illuminating your way inside a large building you recognized as the Manitoba Museum Planetarium. Every couple feet there were dozens of your favorite flowers lining the path as well, taking your breath away. You used to come here when he was first traded to Winnipeg, you’d come together when you had the time and would sit in the planetarium for hours looking at the stars. You used to make up names for them even though you knew they already had them, but it was one of your favorite things that you used to do together. Laurent offers his arm to you and you take it, allowing him to lead you down the path and inside the building.

Once inside, you realized there was no one else in the room besides the two of you and one museum employee. There were more candles inside, wickless thank god or else you would have slapped his arm a little, but it still made the scene beautiful. In the middle of the room there was an arrangement of blankets, pillows, a bucket filled with one of your favorite champagnes, and what looked to be a full take-out spread from your favorite local restaurant.

“Laurent.. You didn’t..Are we the only one’s here?” It wasn’t often that you were rendered speechless, but somehow this man still managed to surprise you every now and then.

“I might have rented out the whole place for the night, just the two of us. I wanted tonight to be special.”

“I know, ten years is a long time.” You smiled.

“And no one is going to pop out from the shadows and yell surprise?” You had to ask.

“No, you’ll see.” He pointed toward the beautiful set up on the floor, and gestured to lead you there. You couldn’t stop looking at him, reminding yourself of the amazing life you created together. You knew how lucky you were, you would never take a single thing you had for granted, especially Laurent. Your mom used to say there was someone out there for everyone, and once you found them you should never let go. You tried taking in more of your surroundings, taking in the moment and feeling grateful to be where you were standing.

Once you sat down, the planetarium lit up above you. You were looking at the night sky in all of its beauty, taking the scene before you in. The museum employee had now disappeared, leaving just the two of you alone. Laurent poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to you. Your eyes returned to Laurent, he was looking at you like you were the one holding up the moon you now saw in the sky.

“A toast, to us. Thank you for loving me the way that you do. I am forever thankful for the bad weather that one night ten years ago.” The sound of your glasses clinking together rang out in the room. He set down his glass, and kissed you.

“What was that for?” You asked. “I just wanted one last kiss before I do this.”

“Laurent, what are you talking about?” This couldn’t be it. Was this it? You’d never tell anyone, but you had dreamed of this moment your whole life. He brought his hand up to his breast pocket, pulling out a little box. You knew exactly what that box had inside it.

I'm gonna tell you tonight Everything you wanna hear And for the rest of my life Plus like a million more years You'rе the only one I wanna love Thе only one, this I promise you If that sounds alright I might just ask you tonight

He shifted his position to that of being on one knee. In shock you brought your hands up to cover your mouth, somehow not ready for the moment you’d thought about for so long.

“Laurent I-” He hadn’t even said anything yet and you couldn’t seem to find any words now.

“My love. I knew the moment that I saw you in that airport ten years ago that you were the one for me. It feels like just yesterday, two strangers caught in a whirlwind of delayed flights and unexpected detours. But that was exactly where we were supposed to be. Little did I know that this chance encounter would lead me to my forever home—you. Everything was going wrong that day, until I met you.”

You could feel tears creeping into your eyes, hearing how much he loves you.

“Through every move, every game, and every new city, you have been my anchor and my rock. I know this life isn’t easy, and it isn’t always the one you wanted. You are my safe space, my unwavering support, and the person I can always count on. Your laughter and warmth light up even the coldest days, and I can honestly say that you make every place we go feel like home. You are everything I never knew I needed, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

He brought up the box and opened it, revealing the ring he had been hiding all along. It was everything you had ever imagined it to be and more. You could tell he had been taking notes over the years, and had added in elements you mentioned so long ago.

“I know I’ve waited way too long to do this, and I will regret it for the rest of my days for not asking you the day we met but I didn’t want you to think I was some crazy person. You inspire me to get out of bed each morning, to accomplish amazing things for you, and the reason I’ll never stop working to be a better person. Every time I look up into the stands and see you, I know you’re there just for me. I have seen your kindness and your strength and the way that you share those qualities with others. I have seen the best and worst parts of you, and I understand with everything I am that you are the most incredible person I have ever known or will know. I promise to be everything you need me to be, I promise to be the home you can always count on. I can’t wait to see what we do in the future. I could kneel here for hours and tell you how much I love you over and over again, but I don’t think it would ever be enough so I’ll ask you this; Would you please do me the great honor of marrying me and making me the happiest man in the world?”

He takes the ring out of the box and holds it up for you to see. Finally the shock begins to wear off, the weight of his heartfelt words sinking in. You knew he loved you but had never fully grasped how much until now.

“YES! Yes!” You couldn’t find any other words to say, but it was enough. He slipped the ring on your finger, admiring his work and you at the same time.

“Now get up here and kiss me you big goon.” You told him.

“My love, goalies are not known for their stellar knees later in life so you might need to help me a little…!” A laugh escaped your lips just a little, causing him to laugh as well. Instead of trying to get up, he switches positions and brings you down into his lap. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he kisses you the way that you had been hoping for all evening. You didn’t want to move from that spot for a very long time, wanting to freeze this exact moment in time for as long as possible.

“How long can we stay here?” You asked, the museum employee did have to go home at some point in time.

“As long as you want. It’s ours for the next several hours, and we are completely alone until I make a call for them to close up…” He raised his eyebrows at you, attempting to drop a hint.

“Sir, we are NOT doing that here!” You tried not to let him see that you were smiling.

“Why not?” His tone tried to sound innocent but it wasn’t working well.

“Because then all of this food is going to get cold, and that would be a crime wouldn’t it?” You definitely were not going to let your favorite food go to waste. He could take you home later and have his way with you, but you were going to torture him for just a little while longer.

“A crime against who?” He asks as he helps you start to unpackage the food.

“Me and my stomach that’s who.” You couldn’t think of a better evening, eating amazing food and being cuddled up next to your favorite person.

“Now we couldn’t have that now could we?”

“Absolutely not. But the quicker you eat, the faster you can take me home and have your way with me…” His eyes lit up at that moment, “But I think I’m going to take my time you know? You made me wait ten years for this..” A groan escaped from him but he was still smiling.

“I know I’ve said it a lot tonight, but I love you. I love you so much.” Laurent rests his forehead against yours as if you could feel everything he was feeling in that moment. There was something about how his actions told you of his love, like getting closer to you was the only way that he could accurately give all of himself to you. He was telling you without telling you, that you were the one. The two of you were in it for the long haul, wherever life would take you.

“I love you too. Happy anniversary my love.”

[cuttergauthier]

Coaches Daughter

I hope you love it🤍

(These photos do not belong to me, this is all fanfiction)

RutgerMcgroarty

Liked by Luca.fantilli, Jdrusk53 and more

Rutgermcgroarty My girl🤍

tagged Y/nnaurato

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Jdrusk53 ABOUT TIME YOU MAKE IT INSTA OFFICIAL!

→Rutgermcgroarty Shut up johnny

Y/nnaurato Love you🥺🤍

Nolan_moyle Does coach know about this?

→Y/nnaurato Not yet, so keep your mouth shut!

→Nolan_moyle it’s dylan you should worry about

→Dylanduke25 I CAN KEEP A SECRET!

Luca.fantilli Coach is going to kill you!

Lhughes_06 You might want to tell coach, we don’t need an injured player.

→Y/nnaurato stay tune!

Y/nnaurato

Liked by RutgerMcgroarty, Lhughes_06 and others

Y/nNaurato to everyone asking, My dad did not injure him!

Tagged Rutgermcgroarty

View all comments

Rutgermcgroarty I’m glad he didn’t hurt me, i love you Y/n

→Y/nnaurato I love you to (ps i’m also happy he didn’t hurt you)

→Rutgermcgroarty You said i had nothing to worry about?!

→NolanMoyle Rut let’s be honest here, she’s his daughter, you should have been worried.

brandonnaurato you better not hurt my daughter!

→Rutgermcgroarty wouldn’t dream of it

Markestapa did he drop you?

→Y/nnaurato no he threw me in the snow.

→Dylanduke25 HE THREW YOU?

→Rutgermcgroarty She pushed me in first!

Jdrusk53 You two make me sick🤢

→Sholtz_024 Leave them alone, they're cute!

→Y/nnaurato Thanks Steve🥺

Luca.fantilli i really thought coach was going to kill you!

Lhughes_06 Glad no one was hurt!

adamfantilli How cutee🥺

[2-fast-2-curious]

Can you please do another dom PLD audio

[M4F] Making you my theatre slut

[SFX][Voyeurism][Public play][Dominant][Trapped][Small girlfriend][Praise][Degradation][Public play][Thigh fucking][Resisting][CNC][I’ll leave it inside you, feel the space I’m taking inside you?]

Creator Reddit: u/JuggernautBrilliant2

[cellythefloshie]

;; Last Christmas Dedicated to @antoineroussel  for her winter fic exchange 2k23

Summary: Act 1. Home for the holidays, Charlotte isn’t looking forward to her parent’s annual Christmas party. That is until it provides the opportunity to reconnect with her childhood friend, and AHL player, Adam Lowry.  Act. 2. Charlotte avoid going home for the holidays to avoid the reminder of last Christmas and the heartache that followed only to cross paths with Adam who is now in his Rookie season with the Winnipeg Jets. Charlotte and Adam are forced to face the reality that their friendship may be something that needs to be left in the past.  Kinks & TW: Angst, holiday themed, original character, situation ship, friends-to-lovers, drinking/alcohol, heart break, size kink, teasing/banter, riding, breast play (mild), missionary, protected sex, (i probably missed something here so please be sure to yell at me if I did) ABOUT THE OC: Face Claim: Crystal Reed. Name: Charlotte aka “Charlie” aka “Mini”. Charlotte and Adam are written as childhood best friends. Act 1: Charlie is a University student and Adam is playing with the St. John’s IceCaps who were the WPG Jet’s AHL Affiliate from 2011-2015. Act 2: Adam is playing in the NHL with the WPG Jets.  Word Count: 10011 A/N: Thank you so much for reaching out and inviting me to participate in the exchange! It was an absolute pleasure to be able to write this for you! It was so much fun being able to write an OC again after writing reader inserts since April, and I got to indulge in writing both Adam and Angst. It got me right in the soul. I WAS going to fade to black with this piece (almost 5k words ago), but I have 0 self control... AND I hope you don’t mind that it’s holiday themed because I’ve had this plotted since we first talked about it, but I didn’t get it written until much later than I expected...

Listen to their playlist while you read. Last Christmas now has a sequel series! Read more of Adam and Charlotte in Just Me & You. 

​Act 1. 

“-Charlotte, honey!” 

It was the sickeningly sweet voice of her mother that greeted Charlie as she had done her best to sneak in through the back door. She had obviously failed. She should have known better, really, there was no way that she was going to be able to get away with going unseen when her parents were entertaining their family and close friends for the annual Christmas Party - not when her mother was always keen on showing her off. 

But Charlie had made other plans for the evening. She had intended to avoid the gaudy decore and the seasonal music that was too loud for Charlie to study comfortably. While her mother had tried to encourage her to put the books down, if only for a night, Charlie had managed to sneak out to a local coffee shop under the pretense of studying for the exams that would rapidly approach once she got back to school after the break - and so she hid at that small coffee shop down the road until the hours grew late and the open sign was flipped to closed. 

Warm eyes shut as Charlie turned in place, her head leaning against the door as she shut it to hide the sigh from her mother that hovered at the kitchen island with a glass of wine, and her friends as they gossips. She had hoped that it would have quieted down before she got home. Yet, the party raged on as if it were a frat party back on campus. Forcing a smile, she turned to face her mother and her guests, as her hand raised to draw her bright red scarf from around her neck. Dark hair dusted with freshly fallen snow fell in loose curls down her back as it was freed from where it was tangled in the warmth of her outerwear that was cast aside on a near stool. 

“Hi mom,” her smile was so forced it almost hurt as she looked at each of her mother’s friends awkwardly, “you ladies look like you’re having fun. I would really hate to ruin it-” She spoke causally as she reached for a festive paper plate, her fingers then finding the assortment of finger food that sat out on the counter, “I’m just going to head upstairs-”

Charlie was drowned out by an assortment of coos. All gawking about how grown up she had become in the few short years she had spent away at college focused on her studies, and how she wasn’t the little girl they all so fondly remembered. It left her grumbling as she pushed her way from the kitchen, keeping her head down as she moved for the stairs. Just a few more strides and she would be free, but her mom had other plans as her familiar touch came down on her shoulders to keep her daughter from wandering too far. 

“Ah, Ah, Charlotte,” she tutted her and suddenly Charlotte felt like a child again, “I think there is someone you’re going to be excited to see.”

Charlie had to bite her tongue to hold back a scoff, but there was no hiding how her large doe-eyes rolled as she thought to herself: Oh yeah, I bet there is. And so she followed her mother’s guidance, her expression no short of annoyed as she was forced to walk through crowds of her parent’s friends and over to her father who was entertaining his friends with one of his wild work stories - a story Charlie had already heard many times before, and she was sure everyone else had as well. 

Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar face that was meant to excite her beyond the desire to hide back in her room. It was there, seated in her father’s favourite armchair, his face half hidden behind a glass of amber liquor she spotted him. Full lips split, bearing a far-from-fake grin as she reached down to abandon her plate on the near coffee table. After that, there was no stopping her. Adam’s bright eyes that had contrasted her so effortlessly had found her face and he was standing up from the seat to meet her halfway. 

“Dad’s just letting you sit in his chair now, huh, hot shot?” Charlie greeted him playfully, her arms winding around his middle with ease without a thought and it was only as his arms wrapped around her that she realized just how much he had changed since he had left Calgary. Charlie could feel every muscle beneath his white t-shirt and he had easily grown another inch or two since his draft day three years ago. Her fingers moved cautiously over the expanse of his back as she pulled back just enough to look up at him as he returned the stare down at her. 

“Your dad and I, we did make that bet,” Adam half smirked, earning a shake of her head as she left out a laugh. It had been the best seat in the house, leather and perfectly worn in and it reclined. It was one that Adam had sought after for years as a child, so as it had approached his draft, Adam had bet that if he had gone in the top 100 players, whenever he had come back to visit he would get to sit in the chair. Adam had been drafted 67th overall that year, but he had never returned to her childhood home, until now. 

“I didn’t think he’d hold to it,” Charlie countered, casting a glance toward her father before looking back up at Adam, “what are you doing here, anyway? I haven’t seen you since Minnesota.”

“Surprised Mom and Dad for the holidays,” Adam smiled, his hands continuing to linger on the curves of her waist - his thumbs stroking over it slowly and she watched as there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He didn’t remember her body feeling like that - hell, they were practically still kids when he had been drafted to the WHL and had only seen each other briefly during his draft in Minnesota. While their history would always remain, they were far from the kids they once were, not they were practically strangers now. “And they would never cancel on your mom, so I wasn’t about to pass up on seeing my best friend.” 

His words made her skin tingle. Did he have the right to call her that still? After so many years of nothing more than sparse text messages and the occasional goofy Snapchat picture? Their different lives had divided them, but maybe now was their chance to really reconnect. 

“You’ve been here all night?” Charlie quirked a brow, taking a step back when she noticed her father cock his head to the side as he had begun to raise a brow of his own. 

She and Adam had always been close - their mother’s bathed them together, and she called her mom Auntie until she was 10 and knew better kind of close - but Charlie wasn’t a little girl any longer and her father knew that - her father also knew that Adam wasn’t the little boy that used to follow her around like a lost puppy anymore. He was a grown man now-

“Since your mom started making dinner,” Adam sighed, his hand reaching up to card through his shaggy brown hair as he cast a glance out the window and to the snow that fell outside, “they sure know how to throw a hell of a party.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the trouble you get into now,” Charlie teased, taking careful strides, and Adam fell in step behind as she moved to the makeshift bar. 

“Me, get into trouble? Never,” Adam was beaming as he leaned back against the wall. 

Charlie shook her head slowly as she mixed herself a drink, her pour a little heavy on the alcohol - but she had to make up for the lost time. Adam was surely multiple drinks deep after spending the evening with her parents, though he hid it well or had developed a very strong tolerance since they had last broken into her father’s liquor cabinet at fourteen. 

“That’s only because you’re always able to talk your way out of it,” Charlie reminded, taking the first slow sip of her drink that burned its way down her throat, “or have you been hit so many times that you’ve lost your silver tongue?”

“Nah, I still got it,” Adam assured. 

“Good, because I don’t think I can handle listening to All I Want For Christmas is You again,” Charlie half groaned, her hand reaching out to take one of Adam’s carefully. 

She didn’t dare look back as she lead him through the living room and to the stairs that would take them up to the second story, and up to her bedroom. Adam didn’t stop her, his steps careful and quiet as he followed up behind her, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he whispered to her, “you really want your father to kill me, huh?”

She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he spoke, and it felt like his laugh was sending vibrations right through her body as they came to her bedroom door. It was just as she had left it when she had moved to campus at seventeen. From her small collection of stuffed animals sitting in her favorite reading chair to the pictures that framed her vanity mirror, her parents hadn’t moved a single thing out of place. Charlie stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, her hand gripping the flimsy plastic cup almost desperately. This wasn’t the first time she had Adam in her room, but they had been just kids back then - the click of the door closing had her stomach jumping into her throat - and they had always had a strict open-door policy thanks to her dad. 

“Oh, you’re really wanting dad to kill you now,” Charlie teased him as she turned in place, finding his smile and following his eyes to the pictures on her vanity. They were an assortment of photos from when she was young, and many were with him. There were pictures of when they were babies, to the days they spent at summer camp together, and their most recent photo was framed and sat at the very corner of her vanity. It had been the morning of his draft, their families had gotten breakfast together and he was in the ill-fitted suit of his - prepared for the off chance that he may have been drafted in the first round. 

Adam didn’t reply to Charlie’s banter, and instead shot a smile back at her, his tone soft as he spoke to her, “lots of good memories here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed gently, stepping forward to join him at his side, “we used to do everything together-”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss being kids or us?”

Us. The word left an odd taste in Charlie’s mouth, one that she tried to wash out with the strong alcohol in her drink. They had never really been an Us, had they? Sure, they had been inseparable for most of their childhood, Charlie & Adam, but that was their friendship. He had dated girls she had never approved of, and she dated guys Adam would inevitably scare off. Hell, they hadn’t don’t anything to suggest that there was a chance that they would have ever shared anything more than the friendship they had forged. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him… not until now as he stood so close to her in her room, wearing that smile she had almost forgotten and very much a man now. 

“I could always count on you being there back then,” Adam sighed and Charlie's mouth went dry, “every tournament, every game. Hell, we almost had your mom convinced to move you out to Swift Current, you remember?”

“How could I forget?” She shook her head as she remembered the nonsense she had tried to feed her mother and the dramatic lengths the pair had gone to before it was made clear that it was far from a reality for them. “Still convinced them to drive me out to see you almost every weekend - but they got you all the way across the country now, don’t they hot shot?”

Reaching her hand out, Charlie shoved against Adam’s arm, a playful habit that returned all too quickly as did the comfort of being around him. 

“Oh, you’re already going to start back up with that shit, huh, Mini?” Adam laughed, a large hand reaching out to abandon his glass on the vanity. 

Hearing her old nickname slip from his lips so effortlessly left her mouth dry. No one called her that anymore - not since she hit her growth spurt - but Adam, he would forever tower taller than her. Charlie licked her lips slowly before taking another long sip of her drink before she set it down beside Adam’s. Her hands then found his chest, so strong beneath her touch, in a playful shove. One that Adam met with his own, earning a laugh from Charlie as she took one stumbled step back. It wasn’t enough to send her into a retreat. Instead, she had leaned in for another playful shove, but she wasn’t met by Adam’s playful roughhousing. No, Adam wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up with ease. 

When they were kids, she would have left out a laugh, or a groan of protest, but not, Charlie was reduced to silence. Her bedroom went blurry around her, and she could only see Adam and the grin on his face as he took careful strides toward her bed. She could feel each flex of his muscles as he held her so effortlessly, and there was no ignoring how naturally her legs had wrapped around his hips - and how his belt buckle grazed roughly over her jeans. The strength of his arms remained as they reached the bed, as  Adam didn’t release her to free fall down onto the mattress, instead, he was falling with her but she was left breathless all the same. 

Charlie did her best to hide the heave of her chest as she lay out on the bed, her dark hair fanned out beneath her and her sweater left wrinkled and bunched up her waist bearing just enough skin on her stomach to draw in Adam’s curious touch. She could feel his thumb drag over her exposed skin, his touch hesitant as if he shouldn’t be touching her there at all. Together they lay out on the bed in silence, Adam’s body hovering slightly over her own. Charlie could feel the heat of his body against her own and taste his breath with each inhale. It was an intoxicating combination. One that left her reaching down to her mattress and gripping at the covers in restraint. 

“Adam,” his name escaped her lips in a quivering breath, her warm eyes dragging over the softened features of his face. His jaw had slacked, and his thin lips parted as they were consumed by each of his steady breaths. Her gaze dragged over the angles of his jaw and up and over his cheekbones that had only seemed to sharpen as his youth left him. And his eyes were piercing as Charlie found them. His brazen stare was only obstructed by the shagged strands of his hair that hung down over his forehead and the intensity that consumed the blue of his eyes was unlike she had ever seen in him before - or maybe she just hadn’t been looking. 

Their gaze was locked, but it didn’t distract her from how his hand had left the skin of her stomach and dragged upward. Up and over the swell of her breast - that threatened to heave at just the slightest graze of his fingers tips. Those same fingertips danced over her collarbone - her neck stretching out almost instinctively, a heavy breath consuming Charlie as if to prepare for his fist to wrap around her throat - but his touch persisted. His touch didn’t stop until it had stroked over the angle of her jaw, and his thumb had found her quivering lower lip. 

“I’ve missed you, Charlie,” Adam sounded, his words a low groan as his thumb stroked her lip, leaving it almost numb, “fuck, you’re so…” Charlie watched as he licked his lips, trying to find the right word to say - and she didn’t care what he had to say. Not really - how could she when all she could think about was what his tongue would taste in her mouth? “...Beautiful.”

The word stung, just like the slap sixteen-year-old Charlie would have given him if she had even thought he was thinking something like that. But now, Charlie was very much consumed by his touch and his words held left her melting. 

“Adam, you shut your mouth before you say something stupid…” Charlie cautioned him slowly, his own voice weak as her lips dragged over the pad of his thumb. The graze left her shutter, her eyes shutting as she tried to force herself to ignore just how good it felt to feel his flesh in places he had never explored before. 

“Stupid? No,” Adam answered, and Charlie felt the bed shift oh so slightly. He was leaning in, his hot breath washing over her face now as his thumb tugged at the lower lobe of her lip, “I should have been telling you that a long time ago-”

Charlie scoffed, her eyes remaining closed as she parted her lips to speak again - too nervous to open them and see just how close to her he had become. If she had seen him so close, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. “Adam, how many drinks have you had?”

“You think I’m drunk?” his voice was laced with a laugh, one that left her own lips curling up into a grin. 

“Can you blame me?” It was only then that Charlie let her eyes blink open and she took in the sight of him. 

Adam was a mere breath away from her lips, his hair tickling her forehead as his eyes fell into slow, dreamy blinks. “Charlotte,” she hated when people called her by her full name, but in the moment, he had made it feel so intimate, “I really want to kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?” Charlie muttered, her lungs holding onto her breath as if he was going to steal it from her. 

“I’m only slightly worried that you may hit me if I tried,” his smile grew, and her own came to mirror his. 

“I’m not going to hit you, Ad-”

Before she could finish, he had stolen the last bit of air between them, his thumb leaving her lips to clear the way for his own lips.  His mouth met hers gently, cautiously, as if she may change her mind at any moment and raise a hand up to give him a good smack. Once upon a time, she would have. She would have pulled back with a gasp and her palm would have met his cheek with a sting because he was her best friend and she wasn’t going to risk that at sixteen. But now, her head was spinning, her body consumed by the mix of emotions that came with seeing him for the first time in three years. Excitement met longing and mixed with melancholy and it left her head spinning as his lips moved effortlessly against her own. Each motion drew her mouth open, adding depth and hunger to the first kiss they had shared. 

She reveled in the taste of sweet bourbon from his tongue as it met her own in a slow graze and it had brought such comfort that her hands eased from their rigid grasp on the covers. Her touch found the expanse of his back, her fingers wrinkling the thin-white fabric of his t-shirt as she left herself to feel his strength. It drew him in closer, Adam shifting in the slightest to hover fully over her form - never once breaking their kiss - and she could feel all of him. Her head was spinning, her thoughts gone as she was consumed by Adam and only Adam. 

Charlie was left groaning against his lips, her hands clutching him desperately, and her knees resting on each side of his hips as she lost all composure. She was pushing up from the bed, Adam giving her just enough room to seek out the hem of her knit sweater and he helped her draw it from her frame. It was then their lips were pulled from one another, both of them left gasping and eyes opening to meet in a desirous gaze. Adam stared at her, and Charlie stared back the only sound shared between them, desperate, panting gasps. If they continued, there would be no going back to how things were before, and they both knew it. But it didn’t stop them. 

Adam’s hands dropped her cable-knit sweater down on the bed, his eyes never once leaving hers before he reached back and took hold of the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He pulled it off in one swift movement, bearing the muscles of his toned chest and strong abs to her as he knelt between her thighs. 

Charlie let out an uneven sigh. She had seen him shirtless before, probably more times than she could count, but he had never looked like that. “Jesus, Adam,” she couldn’t contain herself, her hand reaching out to stroke down his chest without a single thought to how he was seeing her breasts in something other than a restrictive sports bra for the first time since puberty had finally decided to be kind. “What are they feeding you out there?”

Adam let out a low throaty chuckle as he arched over, placing his hand palm down on the mattress trapping Charlie beneath him against the bed. She watched as muscle she didn’t even know could exist flexed in his shoulder. Licking her lips, Charlie was near salivating at the sight of him as she pushed up onto her elbows to close the short distance between them and prevent Adam from having too much time to admire her soft, feminine body. His athleticism had never intimidated her until now. It was not his talent or his status, but his body that made her so instantaneously insecure. And she was sure he could feel it in the desperation of her kiss against his mouth and the angles of his jawline. 

Charlie could feel the vibrations of his groan against his own lips as Adam lowered himself down against her. He wasn’t heavy against her, but Charlie marveled at just how much of him she could feel. His chest was warm against the exposed skin of her breast, his friction sending the cups of her bra chaffing and making her nipples hard. Then there were his hips, which pressed down into her. It sent the cold metal of his belt buckle dragging over her skin and the pressure, paired with the strength of his thick, muscular thighs had her spreading her legs for him further. 

Her heels dug down into the plush mattress, her hips raising with the hope of grinding up against him only to meet the flesh of his abs. Charlie groaned against his lips, almost frustrated. Why did Adam have to be so damn tall? Usually, Adam towering almost an entire foot taller than her was an asset, but not when she was trying to be sexy. 

Leaning her head back she let it lull to the side, Adam’s hot lips dragging over the soft skin of her neck, and she used that leverage to reach her hand down between their bodies and didn’t stop until her careful touch grazed over the growing bulge of his cock as it tested the restraint of his jeans. Fingers traced up and down the thick outline, earning a low, quivering breath from parted lips. A breath that was laced with a subtle holy fuck that she did her best to play off as a moan. Adam was huge, in every way she could possibly imagine. From his height to his cock - Charlie swallowed hard - she was all the more intimate to take him now. 

“First time?” Adam muttered out against her skin, his tone only half teasing. 

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Charlie gawked up at him, her eyes going as large as a doe in the headlights as she mocked him, “Oh Adam, I’ve been waiting so long for you to take me with your giant cock. I’ve wanted you and only you for so long,” she let out two desperate heaves before she was muffling her laughter into the strength of his bicep. 

“Fuck off,” Adam laughed, his hands taking each side of her hips firmly before flipping over in the bed. He guided him on top of him effortlessly, her knees falling on each side of his hips so that she could feel him against her cunt the only thing between them was the thin layers of their clothes. 

Perched up on top of him, her cheeks flushed with color, her hands coming to brace against his chest as she began to roll her hips slowly. The friction left her biting her lip, her arousal already beginning to pool between her legs as she could feel his cock growing harder - and it even left Adam groaning with impatience. 

He was propped up against her pillow, his bright eyes fluttering as he reached a single hand out to stroke over her warm cheek. He stroked the heated flesh, his fingers reaching out to hold her dark tendrils away from her soft features as he spoke to her. “I may not be your first, Charlie,” his tone was low, sultry and it left her mouth dry and panties wet, “but have you taken a cock this big?”

She let her hips roll slowly dragging her cunt from what felt like his balls to tip, and she shuttered as her head shook slowly from side to side. And she watched as his smile grew, the touch of his thumb stroking against her cheek a little more tender now. 

“We can go slow,” he assured, his hips raising as his hand dropped. 

She couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that took her as the pressure of his cock tested the friction of her jeans as he sunk his hand into his pocket. He fished out his wallet, drawing out the fine leather before pulling out the foil that had been tucked away among a wad of cash in various, colorful, dollar amounts. 

“That’s not the same one that you stole from your dad’s bedside table in high school, is it?” She teased him gently, her smile splaying over her lips as she crawled off of him and to the bed at his side. 

“No, no,” Adam laughed before he put the foil in his mouth and held it there as she reached down to take care of his jeans and belt. It was as he pushed them down he muttered, “that one didn’t fit.”

“Oh fuck off, they stretch,” Charlie scoffed, her handing beginning to work on her own pants. 

Spitting the condom out on the bed, Adam smirked and pressed up onto his knees. “Okay, okay, correction,” he raised his hands up as if in surrender, “it didn’t fit comfortably.”

“That’s what I thought,” she chided as she pushed her pants down to her knees, only for Adam’s own hands to meet the fabric and pull them down the rest of the way. 

Charlie could feel every lazy drag of his fingers against her skin, his touch like the strike of a match leaving a blazing trail on her skin in its wake. It should have left her pulling away, but it only made Charlie want more. His touch silenced her teasing, his fingers dragging back up the smooth skin of her legs as she was rid of her jeans and was left in nothing but her underwear. If it had been anyone else Charlie would have been flooded with confidence, but with Adam, it might as well have been her first time. He knew her better than anyone, every story, every scar, every secret. But it was only being near-naked in front of him that she felt truly vulnerable.

His hands kept gliding up. Up over the ticklish curves of her knees. Up over imperfect, tiger-striped thighs. And to the thin, flimsy fabric of her panties that left an imprint of the seams against her hips. Adam looks up at her through his shaggy hair as two thick fingers hooked her panties around her hips - and she couldn’t breathe. Not while he was looking at her like that, silently asking her permission to keep going with the most curious and caring of glances. Her lips parted, but she found no words. Charlie could only nod. 

Adam bit down on his lip as he eased her panties away from her lips. Charlie watched as his jaw went slack, his gaze dropping to the sweet heat between her legs as it was exposed to him. “Oh, Charlie,” Adam let out a satisfied hum at the sight of how her arousal, and how it had soaked into her panties, “you’re so wet.” His words were almost as if he were in awe, but then his smile grew and his tone became teasing, “Did I do that?”

His teasing cut right through her nerves and brought a smile to her lips that lit up her features and brought her the confidence she so desperately needed. 

“You might have had something to do with it,” her head cocked to the side sending her dark curtain of curls over her shoulders and over her breasts as she reached back to free the, from the confines of her bra. 

Adam’s eyes went as wide at the sight of her soft, womanly body fully exposed to him. His smile didn’t fade, no, it grew wider as his teeth took hold of his lower lip almost shyly. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Charlie muttered. Her words were a mere whisper as her arms crossed over her chest awkwardly in an attempt to cover her exposed breasts. 

Adam almost stuttered on his words, his cheeks flushing as he reached a hand out to gesture to her body, “you look, incredible Charlie. Absolutely, just, wow-”

“You're just saying that-”

“No, really,” Adam sighed, his hand reaching down and pushing down his boxers and abandoning them at the foot of the bed. She crawled up her childhood bed until he was seated against the pillow - his stiff cock laying out over the tone plains of his stomach threatening to draw all of her attention. It was there, propped up in the comfort of her bed, that he ripped open the foil and worked the thin latex over his cock with the strength of his well-worked hands. “Come ‘ere, Charlie.”

Silently, she obliged and crawled up the length of the bed and into his lap. Each of her knees found its place at each of his hips and her sweet, dripping cunt came to rest over his cock. Her stomach fluttered with the nerves of anticipation, her hips rolling oh so slightly so that she could feel the thick vein of his cock stroke against her clit. The pleasure burned through her body and coaxed a soft sound from Adam’s lips. One that lingered in his words as he spoke to her, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His hand reached out, stroking her dark hair back from her face, and back so that it cascaded down the length of her back. His hands then dragged down, Stroking at her eager neck and the angles of her shoulder and stopping at the impressive swells of her breast. Adam palmed at her supple flesh with his coarse hands, her chest consumed by desperate, heaving breaths at his touch - and he muttered out his sweet words, “so perfect…” Then, Adam was leaning in, his hair hanging down into his eyes as his mouth descended down. He placed slow, open-mouthed kisses over each breast. Kisses that warmed them with the heat of his mouth and were instantly cooled by the room’s tepid air. 

“Adam,” Charlie gasped out, her fingers finding his hair gripping just enough to ground herself but not enough to stop his movements as he sucked on one nipple, and the next, before his tongue dragged up from the valley between them to the sweet angles of her jaw. 

Adam raised a brow at her as he placed peppered kisses along her jaw, trialing his way to the corner of her mouth as he let out an inquisitive hum, “do you think you’re ready for me, Charlie?”

Nodding desperately, Charlie pressed up on her knees and gave Adam the room he needed to reach between them. She could feel his hot hand against the inside of her thigh as he took hold of his own cock, stroking it slowly as he drew it up to guide the very tip to her core - but it wasn’t without teasing her first. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down the fold of her cunt slowly, sending her arousal dripping down the latex and over his hand before he positioned himself at her core. 

“You don’t have to take it all,” he assured her gently, “it can be… a lot. So go slow, and we can stop if you need to. Okay, Charlie?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, her hand reaching out to brace herself against the strength of his shoulders, “yeah, okay.” She took two long blinks, trying to ease the spinning in her mind at the feeling of his cock between her legs. It all seemed like a dream, like the ones she would have as a teenager and would do all in her willpower to repress - because you weren’t supposed to think about your best friend like that. But it was the burning pleasure of slowly taking his cock into her eager cunt that reminded her that this was very much of a reality. 

Charlie took him slowly, inch by inch he spread her walls, and it left her cursing out under her breath in pleasure. “You’re taking me so well, Charlie,” came Adam’s encouraging coo, his hands having abandoned his own cock and found her hips to help carefully guide her as she rode his cock. With each rise and fall of her cunt around his cock, her head spun and she questioned just how much more of him there could possibly be. 

“Jesus Christ, Adam,” she near yelped, her head thrown back before she could bite down on her lip and stop herself. 

Adam hushed her gently, a single hand raising to stroke over her cheek. Charlie leaned into his touch as she panted, her lips parting and taking his thumb in her mouth without a thought in her head. She sucked on it slowly, earning a soft moan from Adam’s lips and it muffled her own as she eased down on him further and found the relief of his balls smacking against her ass. She had managed to take all of him. Smiling around his thumb, Charlie cast a glance down at Adam who was watching her with a dreamy gaze. 

“We’re going to have to find a way to keep you quiet, Charlie,” he beamed up at her and dragged his thumb from her lips and over her smooth cheek slowly. He cupped her face in her hand, his fingers knotted in her hair. “Because if your dad wasn’t going to kill me before, he sure as hell would want to kill me now-” 

“Don’t talk about my dad when you’re balls deep in my cunt, please,” Charlie begged, her skin ablaze and shimmering as she began to sweat. 

“Sorry, mood killer?”

“Just a bit,” Charlie gasped out as the tip of his cock pressed into her limits. She was so impossibly full of him, and it near had her legs trembling. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Adam spoke, his words almost charming as his hand gripped at her hip firmly, “just don’t make a sound.” 

His smile was wicked as he held her gaze and drew her in close to his body. With their bodies chest to chest, his cock buried to its absolute limit and her face tucked into his neck to muffle any sound that would threaten to spill from Charlie’s lips, Adam flipped them.

The plush mattress was welcome on Charlie’s back as she let out a soft yelp against the flesh of Adam’s throat. “Sorry,” she muttered softly, her smile blossoming and her lips dragging over his neck with every word, “I can’t help it - you feel so good.” 

Adam propped himself up with his elbows on each side of her head, his lips coming down to kiss her forehead with a slow lingering kiss - as he couldn’t quite reach her lips while he remained deep inside her cunt. His hot breath washed over her face with every exhale as he began to roll his hips, drawing his cock from her just enough to slide back inside her in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sent a burning pleasure through to her core, and a soft sound from parted lips. It was a moan that only threatened to grow louder as the pleasure grew. And when Charlie wound her short legs around Adam’s hips, she muffled her cries of pleasure in the strength of his shoulder and clung to him like he was her only source of gravity. 

Her eyes watered as she held onto him so desperately, her teeth grazing over his skin and the taste of him lingered on her tongue as she muffled her moans into his shoulder - and when he reached a hand back to grip at her thick thigh, holding it in place as he hit such a depth that sent his own eyes fluttering back with pleasure, her head lulled to the side and she forced to burry he gave into the flex of his bicep.

“Adam,” his name was a hymn on her tongue, her body shuddering as her climax threatened to overtake her - as he could feel its threat as her cunt began to pulse around him. 

His hand only left her leg to take hold of her chin, guiding her soft features took look up at his as they too melted with pleasure. His thumb stroked over her lips slowly, tugging at her lower lobe and drawing her sweet lips open to welcome his mouth. Charlie was consumed by Adam’s kiss - one that was unlike the one that had started it all. There was no caution, no that had all been abandoned now. His kiss was one with purpose. One that stole her desperate breath from her breast and flooded her with emotion. It struck her like a slap to the face, leaving her gasping against his lips and her head spinning. 

Not once had she ever been kissed the way Adam had kissed her, and it left her trembling as her core clenched around him. The grip of her was enough to draw him to his release. He lost all control, every thought of gentle caution seemingly lost as Adam pounded into her with a series of forceful thrusts. Then, with his cock buried deep inside her and sweat dripping down the angles of his face and body, Adam stilled. 

Faces mere inches apart, only panting could be heard. Eyes brown and blue were caught between open and fluttering shut as their bodies only began to calm. While Charlie crazed to continue to be close to Adam, the wrap of her legs around his waist loosened, her feet sliding down to the bed with a quiet thud. And she reached up both hands slowly to stroke his sweat-drenched strands from his face. Charlie watched as his eyes fluttered and his lips parted as he let out every heavy exhale that was laced with the whisper of her name on his tongue. And she relished in it, her own name echoing in her euphoria dazed mine until Adam’s words drew her back into reality. 

“What time is it?” his words were a soft whisper as he remained hovering over her and his cock still buried deep in her cunt. 

Charlie’s head lulled to the side, taking in the glow of her old digital clock. “Late,” she answered him simply, “people would have started to go home already… Your parents, were they staying the night in the guest room?” Her words were slow, hesitant even as she silently recollected the many times he had spent the night in her room when they were children. When they were too young for their parents to care, they had shared the bed, or even a tent out in the backyard in the summertime - but as they had grown older, her father more concerned about a teenager's urges, Adam had slept on the floor beside her bed. She remembered waking up with her hand reaching down over the edge of the bed to his hand even more fondly now. 

“No,” Adam hung his head, “we were going to cab home, my flight leaves early in the morning.”

Her heart fell, and her stomach twisted into knots. Of course, he would have to leave. They would need him back before their next game, and they kept a tight schedule - she was lucky to have gotten to see him at all. There was no easing how sick knowing she was going to have to say goodbye to him before the night was through made her. Not even the thrill of seeing him again, nor the euphoria of her climax could put it at ease. 

Charlie forced a smile, trying so desperately to hide the dread that consumed her. “We should probably get dressed before someone comes looking for you.”

“Your dad would really kill me then, huh?” Adam half laughed as he pushed up with whatever strength he had left as eased his cock from her core. 

She near whined as she was left void of him, her legs coming together firmly as she shifted to the edge of her bed. She bit down on her lip as she fought to find her composure, and when she spoke her tone with low but she carried her smile into her voice, “Your teammates would really miss you if you died over something so menial-”

“Ouch,” Adam hissed, his hand coming up to rest over his heart as if he had been stabbed through it, “menial? That’s how bad it was?”

“Adam I-” Charlie found herself stumbling over her words as she pulled a loose t-shirt down over her naked body - the Swift Current Broncos logo resting right over her chest, “you know that’s not what I meant…”

“I know,” Adam grinned his tone teasing as he discarded the used condom into the waste basket by her bed and moved to step into his boxers, “I’m just teasing you Charlie - and like, I mean,” he rambled as he tried to choose his words carefully, “you enjoyed yourself?”

“Well,” Charlie’s tone was teasing as she found his t-shirt, took it in her hand, and held it out to Adam casually, “you were right about being the biggest-”

“Oh, you’re just cruel, Charlie!” Adam laughed out so loud that she was sure that someone would have heard it downstairs. He continued to laugh as he stepped forward, his one hand pushing his shirt away while the other reached out for her. Soon, Adam had her in his arms again and hoisted her up so that he was holding her near and her legs could wrap around his middle. “Lie to me at least,” he playfully begged her as his hands kneaded at the soft flesh of her thighs, “tell me it’s all you’ve ever dreamed.”

Charlie shook her head slowly, her forehead coming down to rest against his carefully as she deadpanned, “worst I’ve ever had.” And then she snickered, her lips curling up into a smile to match Adams. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved that you’re the worst liar I know,” Adam sighed in relief, “because I don’t think I have the time to prove to you just how good I can be…”

“Another time, hot shot,” Charlie hummed, leaning back just enough to peer around him and to the door when she heard footsteps pass in the hall, “I think we’ve pushed our luck long enough.”

Adam lowered her to the ground before his hands abandoned her body for the soft fabric of his t-shirt - but the ghost of his touch remained on his skin and between her legs even. It was a feeling that Charlie was sure would be difficult to forget - even if it all came to feel like nothing more like a dream in the morning. 

The pair dressed in silence, nothing shared between them except lingering glances and soft smiles as more and more skin was covered. It was only in that silence that Charlie could hear that the Christmas carols that had consumed the home had gone quiet and there was nothing more to be heard from downstairs than their father’s laughter.

“You should go down first,” Charlie decided as she reached for her robe and leaned back against the pale floral wallpaper that decorated her wall, “dad will ask too many questions if I come down already changed into my pajamas…” 

“Yeah, right, good idea,” Adam stuttered, his hand carding through his own hair, “so I guess, this is where I should give you a proper goodbye, huh? Because I don’t think you’re dad would like me kissing you at the front door…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Charlie nodded slowly and swallowed hard - though, she would be much more worried about what their mothers would do if they had found out. She was already sure that they had been planning their wedding since they were five. “Don’t be a stranger Adam…”

“Just pick up the phone when I call Charlie,” Adam hummed, his tone almost dreamy as his hand came up to cup her cheek. Then he leaned in, placing a soft, warm kiss on her lips - one that would linger long after he left. 

“I’ll pick up, promise.”

“That’s my girl,” Adam praised, but when he pulled back he was wearing a solemn look. 

He hated goodbyes. 

And so did she. 

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” was Adam’s final goodbye in the privacy of her bedroom, his thumb dragging over the skin of her cheek and neck before she was left completely void of his touch, “you were by far the best gift I got to unwrap this year.”

Her cheeks flushed red hot with color as she stepped back from the door. She hid just out of sight of anyone waiting just on the other side of the door. “Merry Christmas, Adam,” she spoke, her head leaning against the wall. It was from there that she watched him open up the door - his features falling into relief when he found that their parents were still very much entertained with each other’s company downstairs. He glanced back with a grin, one that silently screamed: SUCCESS, before he reached back and shut the door back into its place in the frame. Charlie didn’t move an inch, not even as she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs just on the other side of the wall. There was nothing comforting about the sound of him leaving. Not when she so desperately wanted him to stay. Saying goodbye was something that had never been easy for them, not even as children - one of them had always cried. And now, they had made things a whole lot harder by blurring the lines between friendship and something more. 

Act 2. 

The warmth of the ski lodge was a welcome after a day spent out on the slopes. Charlotte’s body ached in all the worst places, but no one would have been able to guess it. Not with how she carried herself so well in a pair of heels and her short, yet elegant slip dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Her hair was left down in long, cascading curls, and her makeup was just enough to hide the sunburn. Charlotte and her best friend had escaped to the mountains for the holidays, the chalet was brought to life for the last big party of the year and she had let herself be consumed by it. By the music, and by the drink, hell, even the unwanted attention from guys, she thrived on it for it was all that could keep her mind from wandering to last Christmas. 

Last Christmas, seemed both like a century ago but also only yesterday in Charlotte’s mind. She could still so clearly remember the excitement of seeing Adam for the first time, and the sting of heartache as the days of the new year passed. They had tried to keep in touch, they really had - but with the time zones, and their busy schedules, it had led to an inevitable silence. She had to focus on her courses, and Adam got called up to the NHL, becoming the hot shot she had always told him he would be. Charlotte knew she should have known better. That she should have been prepared for ever the outcome, but it didn’t take away the ache in her chest that came with giving herself fully to Adam. 

Charlotte didn’t blame him, how could she? They both knew the risks, but that didn’t mean she wanted to risk seeing him again by going home for the holiday. It was too soon, it would only rip open the wound in her heart time was still trying so desperately to turn into a scar. A wound that was ripped open the moment she looked up from her drink and towards the bar when she heard the nickname she had tried to abandon echo in her mind like the beckoning of a ghost in the crowded room. 

“Charlie, I thought that was you!” Adam was pushing through the crowd that had formed around the table, dressed casually in a nice pair of blue jeans and a half-tucked button-down. He looked just as he had a year ago, the same face that had been burned into the back of her mind at the peak of her pleasure, save for the scruff that peppered his chin and jawline. Charlotte might have even thought it looked good on him if it hadn’t felt like someone had poured the salt from her margarita into an open wound - if she hadn’t felt like she was on the verge of throwing up. 

“Charlie?” one of her friends piped up, their brows furrowed. 

“A childhood nickname,” Charlotte rolled her eyes as her lips couldn’t find her drink fast enough. Her glass was near empty by the time Adam had reached the table, her face putting on a fake smile as she looked at her friend with eyes that looked as if they had been encased in candied sugar as they were consumed by the threat of tears. “This is Adam, we grew up together.”

Her friend didn’t need to hear much more than that. From the excitement of seeing him again to the pain of getting just sort of ghosted, she knew it all and it drew her face into a knot that she struggled to hide. “Oh, yeah, the hockey star,” her friend's words were like sweet venom that would kill you before you knew the poison you were drinking. 

“What are you doing here?” Charlotte’s voice almost broke as she shifted in her seat, her fist grasping at her empty glass desperately, “I thought you would spend the holiday back in Winnipeg with that tough schedule they keep you on-”

It was a casual jab at one of the many excuses he had used to explain his silence. Sorry I couldn’t text you I had a game… I had practice… I won’t be coming home for the summer, I’ve got training… They had all been just words on a screen then, his career too much for even a conversation with her then, but somehow, he had the time to celebrate the new year in Banff. It made her stomach sick. 

“Caught a trip out with some of the guys,” he nodded back towards the bar where a group of guys had gathered, some missing teeth, others bruised and banged up from their last games before their few days off, “we fly back out tomorrow, you should come to meet them-” 

Her heart was pounding like drums in her ears, her mouth falling open as she let out a steady, frustrated huff. How could he be acting so casually, so calmly? As if nothing had ever happened between them at all. Did he ever care about her at all? The thought hit her like an avalanche, sending a single glistening tear down her cheek as she abandoned her glass and pushed it up from the table. 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could manage, her voice broken as she let her eyes drop to the floor and she began to push her way through the crowded room. 

Charlotte didn’t look back when she heard Adam call after her, and persisted through the crowd as she hoped that she would lose her in it. She was small enough, she could slip out of just about any room unnoticed, but Adam he towered over almost everyone in any room. He could use that to his advantage - so Charlie didn’t stop until she was in the foyer of the chalet, where the music was almost reduced to silence and the view of the mountains in the distance could be seen out its grandiose windows. 

She let the way the silver mood beamed down onto the slopes calm her. The sight brought a semblance of peace as the ache in her heart raged on. A peace that was lost when the echo of heavy footsteps took the foyer, and Adam’s voice pierced the air, his annoyance clear, “Dammit Charlie, what was all of that about?”

Charlotte doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t even want to listen to him as she’s standing in front of the window - the winter’s chill sending goosebumps as it permeated the window’s failing seal - with her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze locked on the mountain tops. She could feel the burn of tears as they trailed down her cheeks, tears that she tried to hide from him as he approached. 

Adam came to sand on her left, his towering frame leaning against the cold glass of the window. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, his figure only slightly distorted by the tears that built up along her lashes and smudged her mascara. 

“You should go back to the party, Adam,” she had tried to tell him firmly, but her words broke as soon as she said his name. 

He didn’t make an effort to leave, it was going to take a lot more to get rid of him than that and it left Charlotte’s stomach in knots - and it was left near lurching as she felt the warmth of his hand encroach on the expanse of her back in a careful touch. 

“Adam, don’t-” she wanted to bite out, but her words were a pathetic mewl instead as her head spiraled. Oh, how good it felt to be reminded of how it felt to be touched by him. 

His touch lingered, his fingers slipping around her waist just enough to carefully turn her to face him. She was sure he could see it all now. The tears. Her tired frown. The pain that was coming to love him and knowing that she would never be loved by him the way she needed from him. It could all be seen in the sad glimmer of her eyes. 

“Oh, Charlie,” Adam sighed, his face falling, softening at the pain that was painted across her beautiful features. 

“Don’t patronize me-”

Her words were cut short as the embrace of his hand came to warm her cheek, leaving her lips parted as she let out an unsteady breath. His touch was careful, and tender, as it wiped away the tears that strained her cheek. And she wanted so desperately to lean into that touch. To embrace its comfort and let it consume her as she had let it last Christmas. 

“Adam, don’t,” her whisper was breathy, her head turning and eyes shutting as she felt the gentle guidance of his hand as Adam tried to draw him into her. 

Charlotte desperately wanted to give in - it would feel so good to give in to him. To let him make it feel like everything was going to be alright. That their relationship would always be more than that of childhood friends, but it would be a comfort built on falsehoods. She wasn’t going to let herself get built back up only to be left in shambles again. 

Raising a hand, Charlotte took hold of his carefully, guiding it to her lips and placing a kiss on his palm slowly. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled the subtle scent of his cologne, and left the warmth of his skin lingering for but a moment during her tender gesture. Then, she guided his hand back to his side, and her warm eyes met his gaze. Adam held a sadness in his eyes, one that told her that she didn’t need to speak a single word to him to explain anything. He knew the sadness she felt - and maybe he felt it too. 

“It’s been really nice seeing you Adam,” Charlotte's words were broken as she spoke, a genuine smile taking her lips for the first time, “but I can’t be doing this, not again…” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before her fingers slip from his like silk. 

Adam gave her a slow nod, the hand that had overtaken her back with the warm comfort of his touch leaving her void. Her chest ached as they held their gaze, the space between them growing as she took a careful step back. The air between them was suffocating, and it left Charlotte’s heart feeling tight in her chest.

It felt like a goodbye. A farewell to her childhood, to their friendship, and to any hope that either of them had that they would be able to sustain any kind of relationship into their adulthood. But life had taken them in separate directions. Adam with his career in Winnipeg - or anywhere else he could end up if he were to ever be traded away - and with Charlotte remaining close to her family and putting down her own roots in Calgary, there would always be too much of a divide. Too many obstacles to truly make something worse when they were both still so young and had so much more of their lives that were unknown just waiting to be uncovered. 

And so she left him standing in the foyer and made the walk back into the party alone. The ghost of his touch lingered as the music consumed her, her eyes growing bright as they fell on her friends that welcomed her back with smiles of their own. Smiles that almost eased the pain in her aching heart. It was a pain that told her that her love for Adam would never fade, and would go unforgotten. But with that pain, she could finally move on. 

[cupidbedsy]

𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲 ; 𝘤𝘣98 ୨୧

➪ summary: two things on connor's checklist: one. to get his girl to see a game of his, and two. to get an overtime goal. lucky for him, he gets both in one night

➪ warnings: none

➪ word count: 0.7k

➪ file type: blurb - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: a little connor blurb for the first thing today! i think a nico fic will be out later today but yeah. this takes place after the winnipeg game when connor scored the overtime goal

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

cb98 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist

Y/n sat anxiously in her seat, biting her nails and her leg bouncing as she watched the game. This wasn’t the first overtime that Connor had been a part of, it also wasn’t the second. The Hawks had been to overtime 4 times, including tonight, in the whole season, losing only one. Yet, this was the first time she was present for one, well actually any game.

Being at school it was hard to form and support her boyfriend but with the break being here she finally came to watch him. He didn’t know, which made this all the more exciting for her.

Janelle sat next to her, just as anxious as the girl, as Milana cheered for her dad. They watched and moved their eyes simultaneously for three minutes until they stopped in the Hawks’ zone. 

Tito skated to center ice before swinging back around and passing the puck to Lukas. Lukas waited patiently until his teammate was near and swiftly passed it to Connor.

Y/n prayed silently as he took the puck, easily skating through guys down the ice, getting close enough on the Jets’ side, shooting it, and making it into the goal. 

Janelle and y/n stood up cheering, the younger of the two naturally being more excited. She clapped as everyone surrounded the rookie and she held a smile on her face.

Watching his interview she couldn’t help but tear up a little because just earlier Connor had called her and talked about how he felt he wasn’t contributing much to the team. They had known each other for so long and she always stood by him so being here, knowing that he just proved his own words wrong, felt great to her.

Janelle took her daughter and y/n outside as the girl felt she was suffocating from the number of people that were still in the UC. They waited for their partners to come out, making small talk about how school was going.

They could hear the slight chatter from behind them, turning around to see the team slowly start to file out of the arena. Tito walked out with Murphy and Seth, noticing the two standing there, “They’ll be out soon.”

They both nodded and expressed their gratitude watching them walk off. It wasn’t long before Nick was walking out with Connor, talking about something that was probably hockey-related. Nick looked up and saw his wife and y/n standing there, stopping and nudging the boy, “Hey.”

Connor looked up from his phone looking at his teammate, “What?” 

He gestured to his right and Connor looked that way, “Oh my-”

He wasted no time in dropping his bag and running to his girlfriend, easily picking her up and swinging her around. She let out a loud laugh, wrapping her arms around him, hitting him so she could be put down, “Put me down, psycho.”

Connor placed her down and leaned his forehead against her own, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Nick took his family off to the side to let the two teenagers have their moment. Y/n placed her hands on Connor’s cheek, holding his face, “I’m so proud of you.”

Connor blushed and stayed silently, not knowing what to say. She gave him a look, “Connor, come on. Be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, “I am. But I’m also still in shock that you’re here.” She kissed him and he kissed back, “Best believe it Con because I’m here and I’m coming on your roadie with you.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way, school is closed for another week so, my family and I decided to fly down to Dallas and then I think my friends and I will go out East with you.” Connor couldn’t stop bouncing on his feet, even pulling away to jump.

Nick and Janelle walked over, Milana following excitedly behind them, “You guys want to go out to celebrate.” Y/n nodded her head enthusiastically and the five of them headed off to go out for dinner.

𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗚𝗢 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗪𝗞𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[wyattjohnston]

and all 34 fics have been posted! thank you so, so much to everybody who signed up, and to everybody who posted a fic. these don't go anywhere without the people who participate, so i'm eternally grateful.

i highly suggest that you read all the below fics, even for the players you might otherwise not. a great deal of time, effort and pride have gone into all of these. and remember to reblog the fic when you're done.

please respect all warnings at the beginning of fics. if a fic has been marked as smut or 18+ and you are younger than, do the right thing and do not read it.

if you're interested in a summer fic exchange, check back in throughout may to see what i'm up to :)

THE WINTER FIC EXCHANGE 2k24 MASTERLIST

Carolina Hurricanes

Andrei Svechnikov

With Love, And Forever Yours by @callsign-denmark for @ teokka

Frederik Andersen

Little Do You Know by @knifeshoeboys for @ mp0625

Teuvo Teräväinen

Jouluiloa by @mp0625 for @ callsign-denmark

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Anthony Beauvillier

tell me who i run to (if not you) by @offside-the-lines for @ bqstqnbruin

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Tyler Seguin

champagne buzz down to my toes by @thewintersoldier for @ senditcolton

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Alex Lyon

in love love by @jackhues by @ 2manytabsopen

JT Compher

bad at love by @matthewtkachuk for @ comphy-and-cozy

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Matthew Tkachuk

Back to You by @tkwrites for @ luvsherleafs

My Sweet Girl by @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @ matthewtkachuk

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Cole Caufield

All This Time by @lifeofpriya for @ prettytoxicrevolver

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Jack Hughes

and all at once, you're all i want (i'll never let you go) by @writingonleaves for @ wildrangers

And he feels like home by @gravestrain for @ one-night-story

I Don't Know You, But I Would Love to Meet You by @one-night-story for @ writingonleaves

I Found by @teokka for @ sydnikov

John Marino

Odds were against us by @ladylooch for @ pcttymcrlecu

Nico Hischier

big, big plans by @tonyspep for @ kurlyteuvo

I'm Still Glad I Met You by @senditcolton for @ offside-the-lines

the ink on your skin by @sydnikov for @ selfindulgentpoorlywritten

Timo Meier

What My World Spins Around by @cellythefloshie for @ ladylooch

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

dreams of someone by @pcttymcrlecu for @ fallinallincurls

love it if we made it by @comphy-and-cozy for @ thewintersoldier

Work Husband by @2manytabsopen for @ twopeoplecanchange

Ottawa Senators

Jakob Chychrun

bet all i have on that furrowed brow by @thomasschabot for @ wyattjohnston

Thomas Chabot

Head & Heart by @kurlyteuvo for @ thomasschabot

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Philipp Grubauer

I never thought by @laurenairay for @ knifeshoesboys

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Auston Matthews

4 + 1 by @prettytoxicrevolver for @ tonyspep

William Nylander

Guilty by @typical-simplelove for @ lifeofpriya

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned by @wildrangers for @ jackhues

Vancouver Canucks

Brock Boeser

Hotel Room by @lam-ila for @ gravestrain

in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want by @fallinallincurls for @ laurenairay

Elias Pettersson

Lately you’ve been on my mind by @laurenairay for @ typical-simplelove

Quinn Hughes

Anything to Make it Right by @kurlyteuvo for @ lam-ila

Mistletoe Confession by @sc0tters for @ tkwrites

The Party's Over, Go Home by @bqstqnbruin for @ sc0tters

Winnipeg Jets

Adam Lowry

breaking all my rules by @wyattjohnston for @ cellythefloshie

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[snoopyhughes]

as the seasons change (p.l. dubois)

@bqstqnbruin Christina! writing for you has been such an honor. I've been following you since I joined Tumblr almost three years ago and have always loved your fics. to write something for you this time is such a joy. 💖

I'm sorry to both you and Demi for the late post. I work 60 hours a week in summers and I'm taking a class that has taken up all of my time. But I promise my tardiness does not dim the amount of love I have for you both (and this fic).

as always: this is a work of fiction. it's hard to imagine why anyone would move from LA to Winnipeg after college, but I tried my best to make it as realistic as possible.

Christina, I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it. It has been such a joy to write this for you. And as always, Demi, thank you for hosting such a wonderful event for our community. @wyattjohnston

3k words. loosely edited, please excuse any mistakes. flashbacks that are not separated by a breaker are written in italics.

You never wanted to hate hockey. Growing up in Southern California, you had always tuned in with the Kings, even attending a few games. But in your mid 20s, you found yourself muting everything to do with hockey, trying to block it out of your head entirely.

It wasn't always like this. In fact, there was a time in your life where it was your entire life. Until it wasn't. You had met Pierre-Luc Dubois shortly after his arrival to Winnipeg. You were living in Winnipeg, fresh out of college working part time on the weekends at a bar. You picked up a part time job to help increase your funds from your starting salary. You truly did have your dream job, but it definitely isn't the dream pay. And moving from your hometown to Winnipeg caused a lot of additional funds.

As soon as you met him, you quickly became aware of his charm, charisma, and unfortunately, his impact on you. And how you could you forget him, with his silky accent always calling you "honey," no matter what the conversation entailed. Every greeting, every question, every conversation, was always started or ended with him addressing you as honey. His reasoning?

"You're as sweet as honey," his deep accented voice told you one day shortly after meeting him. He quickly looked around to survey his surroundings, and then whispered in your ear: "I'm sure you taste like it too."

Of course, your cheeks burned immediately at that. It was definitely not a conversation appropriate for your workplace, under the neon lights of the bar you worked at. Of course, Pierre was the one who was starting those interactions, but you never shut him down, and truthfully you bashed in the attention. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel beautiful. You had your share of guys in college and even a couple in Winnipeg before you met Pierre-Luc, but as soon as you met Pierre, you were done for. There had been no one once you met him, and there had been nothing after him. You had found yourself reminiscing on the times that you and Pierre shared. You were both in love, and you wondered how a connection so powerful, so addicting, had turned into heartbreak.

________

"Holy hell, who is that," your coworker Jess muttered out when the two of you were getting ready to get behind the bar for the night. It was a Saturday night, the Jets fresh off an afternoon victory. You had known that the Jets would frequent the bar you worked in after wins, hell you had met a lot of them, but you knew you had never met him. You would have remembered a face like his, a voice like his. A smile like his. Or a smirk, should you say.

"That's Pierre-Luc Dubois, newly acquired by the Jets and the most beautiful man to ever walk through our doors," another coworker, Anthony muttered as he tied his apron around his waist, causing you all to infer that he was familiar with the hockey player. You weren't surprised that he knew him. "Sports gay," the self proclaimed title that Anthony gave himself long before you met was incredibly correct. He had quickly become one of your best friends both at work and outside of work in the short year that you had worked at the bar.

Jess strategically decided to start at the other side of the bar from the players, causing you the responsibility to serve them. You never minded, you never had an issue with any of them. They always tipped well and were kind and friendly to you. They never complained about any service issues, and some of them even went as far to ask you about your personal life. The ones who did knew that this was an extra job for you and always threw in some extra money on top of the tip.

You made your way over to them, trying to pretend that you weren't just having a detailed conversation about one of them. Trying to pretend that you were unfazed by the eye contact that you made with him, by the way that his button up perfectly squeezed his muscular, tattooed arms.

"How's it going gentleman, wonderful to see you all again. Win today?" you asked as you placed coasters in front of them, never bothering with a menu. They always knew what they wanted. As they informed you of their win and made a few side comments, an accented voice that had become familiar quickly spoke up.

"Hi honey, I'm sorry I don't think I got your name. I'll have a jack and coke please. And I'll buy the first round for everybody while you're at it." The way the pet name flowed so easily off his lips should've been a bigger red flag, but you couldn't help but feel your cheeks burn at the comment. "It's Y/N," you informed him as you placed the drink in front of him, trying not to act like you had been extremely flustered by his words.

"Well Y/N, I haven't been here long but I can promise you you're the most beautiful woman in Winnipeg," he charmed, causing you to blush but also roll your eyes. "Don't mind Luc, apparently French men think they can say whatever they want to innocent bar workers," Adam joked, causing the rest of the guys to laugh. You had become very familiar with Adam in the time you'd worked at the bar. He was like a brother to you, and you appreciated the way he loosened the tension because you were incredibly flustered by his words.

But above all, it was the way that despite the teasing from his new teammates, Luc never flustered, his eyes still smoldering your own, and you knew you were in for some trouble.

--------

You were packing up your apartment, two years since that day that you met Luc. You had decided to move back home. Truth be told, Winnipeg never felt like home. It helped when you were with Pierre-Luc, but the homesickness was undeniable, and following your breakup from Pierre-Luc, it only got worse. There was nothing keeping you there anymore.

Although you were ready to leave, it was hard to ignore the memories of the apartment you were packing up, both good and bad. The joy of being with Pierre and the heartbreak. The giddiness of first meeting him and the emptiness of what you assumed would be the last time you ever saw him. All of those emotions existed inside of the four walls in your apartment.

As you wrapped up picture frames in packing paper, you wondered why you still had these up. It had been 6 weeks since your breakup with Luc, but the pain felt like it happened just yesterday. Your heart constricted at the picture that was looking back at you, a picture of you in the snow. It was the first time you had been alone with him.

"We're closed," you muttered out as you heard the doorbell chime from the front of the restaurant. You were cursing yourself for not locking the front door yet, but you also wondered why people couldn't just open their eyes and read the closing times that were so clearly printed on the very door that they had just opened.

"It's okay honey, I'm not looking for a drink tonight." the accented voice behind you made you tense up immediately. You had to have been dreaming. There was simply no way that he had come back for you. You had been thinking about him for days since he had first come in with the team. You truly did have a soft spot for the Jets team, but they never came in alone. They always came in a group, and never not on their unassigned assigned day: Saturdays. It was a few weeks later, and to your knowledge, there was no one else with him. You turned towards the voice and found that your suspicions were true.

"Hello again, Pierre. Nice to see you, but we really are closed and I'm really trying to get out of here before midnight. After midnight the streets get crazy," you explained to him as you finished up sweeping from behind the bar. "Yeah, I'm sure the streets are really crazy from the inside of your locked car," Pierre joked, causing you to raise your eyebrows. You hadn't known him long, really he had no reason to be protective of you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he would not approve of the words that were about to come out of your mouth.

"Oh, I walk." you muttered as you broke eye contact in an almost embarrassment. You weren't embarrassed that you walked, it was truly impractical to drive when it was only a few blocks and the streets were always mobbed, the parking almost worse. But you knew deep down it really wasn't safe, and it was embarrassing to be under the microscope like this. You really weren't used to it. You hadn't encountered many men who cared enough about you walking home alone. "Any straight man," Anthony's voice was like the devil on your shoulder in the back of your mind.

"You what?" Pierre grumbled, his eyes lighting up in an almost anger. "There's no way you just said that." He mumbled and you nodded your head. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I did. Did you even listen?" You were growing frustrated. You barely knew this man other than what you had read on Google, what right does he have judging your life decisions? "Yes, unfortunately I did hear what you just said. I can't believe you put yourself in danger like that." You scoffed at him, wondering if this was genuine concern.

"What do you care? I'm just the girl who pours your drinks." You muttered stubbornly as you brushed past him to lock the front door, trying to get back to what you had been doing in the first place: trying to close this damn bar so you could start your apparently infamous walk home.

"I know I haven't known you for long, but I already care about you. You're more than just 'the girl who pours my drinks.' I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. That's why I came back over here in the first place, to hopefully get a chance to talk to you." He was standing his ground, and you felt yours crumbling at his tone of voice, the care in his eyes, the warmth that was somehow radiating off of his body despite it being mid February in Canada.

"I know, I have no right to come in here and judge your routine. But at least let me walk you home. I'll never come back here again if that's what you want, but I simply can not come in here to see you and then let you walk home in the dark. I can walk 6 feet behind you if you want, but I'm not letting you walk alone." He took a step closer to you, reaching out to touch your forearm and you fought the urge to jump back, his touch almost burning you.

You begrudgingly agreed and let Pierre walk you home after you finished closing the bar. The task was surprisingly short, only lengthened by the presence and words of Pierre. You walked closely to Pierre, unconsciously trying to catch some of his body heat as snow was now steadily falling from the sky. It made you miss the warmth of your home, the beating sun, the rise and fall of the waves as you walked home from work a much better scenery than this, although the beauty of the snow was hard to deny.

As you walked up to the front door of your apartment complex, you turned towards Pierre and saw him smiling goofily at you. "What's so funny?" you wondered and he shook his head. "Nothing. You just look adorable in this snow. It's obvious you aren't from here." he chuckled and lifted his phone quickly to take a picture of you, an amused look on your face.

He turned his phone to show you the photo and you smiled, immediately falling in love with the picture. It's true, it was glaringly obvious that you weren't from Winnipeg. "We don't get much snow in LA," you muttered and Pierre gave you a quizzical look. "What on earth are you doing all the way out here?" He asked and you smiled. "My college roommate is from here. I was ready for a change when I graduated so I moved back home with her. I've been here for a year now and I'm still not too sure." you admitted, being more honest with him than you had been with anyone about your living situation, which surprised you.

"I've only been here a month. I've liked it so far, but it doesn't feel like home yet." The vulnerability between the two of you was sobering, reminding you of the weather. "Well it's cold, I don't want you to freeze. I'll call you an Uber back to the bar. Thanks for walking me, truly. I appreciate your concern." You admitted and he smiled. "It's nothing, really. But one thing. Can I send you this picture? I think it's really perfect." he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. "If you wanted my number, you could've just asked." You joked, now causing Pierre to blush. "That too," he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance.

"Goodnight, honey. I'll dream of you," he swooned, causing you to roll your eyes. "Goodnight Pierre." You hummed back. You would never admit that you dreamed of him too that night.

Tears streaming down your cheeks broke you out of your sorrowful flashback, the picture of you in the snow staring back at you. You kept it up at first to remind you that you could feel joy in Winnipeg, but as you packed it up, you realized that was obviously a failure.

You placed the picture frame in the now full box and sealed it with packing tape, grabbing a sharpie to label it clearly.

DO NOT OPEN.

-------------

That was March, and now this was September. Somedays the breakup felt like yesterday and somedays it felt like a lifetime ago. There was still an ache in your heart somedays and other days you found yourself looking at other people.

It was mid-September, but the sun was still beating down hard. You didn't miss much about Winnipeg, but somedays the sun beat down just a bit too hard and you found yourself thinking about how the four seasons were so prominent there. You closed the door to the bar you had found yourself in back in LA, feeling a sense of deja vu as you turned the lock and pulled on the handle to ensure it worked.

"I seriously hope you don't still walk home in the dark alone after work."

There was no way his voice was behind you. You had to have been imagining it. The deja vu must've been getting too real. You shook your head out and turned towards the street. But there was nothing imaginary about the figure in front of you. You had spent so much time memorizing his face, his body, his heart. You knew him like the back of your hand.

"What are you doing here?" came out before you could stop yourself, your palm coming up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "You didn't hear the news? 8 years upcoming with the LA Kings." You found yourself laughing out loud. There was no way.

"Well that can't be a coincidence." It was true that you missed Luc, a piece of your heart missing when he left. But that's exactly what he did: broke your heart. "Of course you were in mind when I signed. You're the love of my life." He admitted and you shook your head. "It sure didn't feel that way when you broke up with me."

It was probably an unfair comment, but you didn't care in that moment. He had shattered your heart when he left. Giving you no reason other than "it's the wrong time for us."

"That's not fair. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't have a choice. I was losing myself in that city and I couldn't let you watch it happen." He admitted and you scoffed. "So was I! God, Luc. I didn't think your pride was too big to admit that you needed help. You should've known I would've supported you." You came back at him with force, causing people on the street to stare at you.

"Of course I knew. I was embarrassed. I have loved you enough for three lifetimes and I couldn't even admit to you that I was struggling." You felt your heart crack. You knew that the toxic masculinity in hockey culture was unfair. You felt for him, that he felt he couldn't come to you with that. And while he loved you enough for three lifetimes, you loved him just the same. You felt tears brimming in your eyes, once again your self control leaving you.

"I missed you, Luc. So much," you told him tearily, causing him to bring you into a tight embrace.

"This time, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." And truly, you should've had more self control. You should've had more questions, more doubts. But in front of you was the man who walked you home the second time you met in a blizzard just to make sure you were safe. The man who helped you break down your walls and stood by you while you both fell and flourished. The man who would do anything to make you smile, make you feel loved. He was yours. He always would be.

You weren't sure how the universe aligned to bring you two back together, but as you held each other on the sidewalk, swaying back and forth under the street light, you knew you would be thankful for it everyday.

[stereax]

whos your favorite player on every team?

Ooh, this is a fun one! Under the cut :) Also not gonna use former Devils, and gonna try to stay away from just naming the most known player on each team... we'll see.

Anaheim Ducks: Lukas Dostal is doing a damn good job tending that net. I'm super excited to see where he goes!

Arizona Coyotes: Of course, our pride king Travis Dermott!

Boston Bruins: Look. I said I was gonna not name the most known players. But you can't expect me not to name a goalie for the Bruins! Impossible! I'm gonna give the edge to Jeremy Swayman.

Buffalo Sabres: Probably Jeff Skinner, honestly. Most cursed man in hockey. Does that make me old?

Calgary Flames: I don't follow the Flames much but I do really like Cody Taylor.

Carolina Hurricanes: Pyotr Kochetkov is, in my opinion, the only Cane with rights.

Chicago Blackhawks: All Star Jason Dickinson just seems like a funny dude. Well, for having to play for Chicago...

Colorado Avalanche: I am forgiving Ross Colton for that really shitty shift against the Devils because he's holding Woody's hand and they're cute. But I'm watching you, mister.

Columbus Blue Jackets: Alexandre Texier. He's French! And played in Switzerland last year! And is suffering!

Dallas Stars: Thomas Harley is carrying half my fantasy teams and he seems like such a fun dude!

Detroit Red Wings: Jake Walman, hitting the griddy, and getting a bobblehead after it.

Edmonton Oilers: I am not immune to Ryan McLeod propaganda. Just look at his smile!

Florida Panthers: Sam Reinhart, the highest-paid Panther, has no goals and one assist in his last six games and his ice time is declining. Where are the Sabres fans who told me how much they would miss him? When I hear of all the positive qualities the team lacked in the past, I think of Reinhart - lol nah that's just the Reino copypasta. Love him!

Los Angeles Kings: Long Distance Girlfriend Kevin Fiala and his hysterical wife!

Minnesota Wild: Mats Zuccarello is very short. This is always fun. Especially because his stick is very long. Also fun.

Montreal Canadiens: Juraj Slafkovsky is not only worryingly homoerotic with every single Slav he meets, he is also trying valiantly to overcome the bust narrative, and he's silly and goofy! What more do you want?

Nashville Predators: Roman Josi. I am not immune to a good-looking Swiss man.

New Jersey Devils: All of them. I'm in a Dougie Hamilton mood right now, though. (Aka, I miss him :'( )

New York Islanders: The Real Sebastian Aho, simply because it's funny there's two of them. Also, this one is prettier.

New York Rangers: There's a fic out there that makes me somewhat like Braden Schneider.

Ottawa Senators: I'm saluting Jacob Bernard-Docker for his services to my fantasy teams.

Philadelphia Flyers: The image of Known USNTDP Member Cam York fielding calls from Zegras on how to take care of his platonic soulmate is truly peak.

Pittsburgh Penguins: The Other Smitty, Reilly Smith. I am predictable. I have a type.

San Jose Sharks: Anthony Duclair! And his many sons on the team.

Seattle Kraken: Kailer Yamamoto. I just like him because he's short, okay? He also seems to have a very fun character, which I admire.

St. Louis Blues: Colton Parayko, for no other reason than it's a very good hockey name.

Tampa Bay Lightning: Brayden Point is another of those players that just eternally carries my fantasy teams.

Toronto Maple Leafs: I think Calle Jarnkrok is eternally underrated. And I'm right.

Vancouver Canucks: Stanley Cup Champion Teddy Blueger. He deserves it.

Vegas Golden Knights: I simply believe that if one does not at least admire Jack Eichel for his dedication to being a bitch and ruining all the narratives, one does not exist to me.

Washington Capitals: They have Dylan Strome from the fics! It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride, everything everything will be just fine, everything everything will be alright alright...

Winnipeg Jets: Nino Niederreiter. God, I hope he finds a home some day. I hope it could be Winnipeg.

[hopetorun]

Trick or treat!

idk if you've read this fic but here's a delete scene from home by now! i like it a lot but it ended up setting up legacy stuff i never followed through on so ... into the discards document.

—

Mom calls late a few nights after Matthew gets the text from Draisaitl. He still hasn’t answered it. She mostly wants to chat, and gossip about the people she and Dad had over for dinner that night, but partway through the conversation she says, “Oh, before I forget, I do have a question for you,” and it makes Matthew’s stomach tense.

“I need to plan a trip to see your Nana sometime this fall,” she says, cheerful and practical, “And I was wondering if you wanted me to time that for when you’ll be playing Winnipeg. We could make a whole thing of it.”

It’s a nice idea. Matthew will be in Winnipeg plenty this year, and the schedule’s already out so Mom can arrange whatever she wants. It makes Matthew clench his jaw. He keeps trying to imagine it, Mom’s family all settled in a box and then going out to dinner with all of them after the game, and the scene won’t play in his head. He wants it to, so much it aches, and yet—all he sees is himself in a Flames jersey, waiting for a perfect pass from Johnny down the ice.

Somehow, he doesn’t think Jets fans will like him any better in a different color jersey. Not that that matters, not that he cares what they think. The people whose opinions matter to him all like him, and he doesn’t care about what Jets fans yell from the stands any more than he cares about whether Leon Draisaitl likes him.

“Sure,” he says, after so long that Mom is definitely going to know that something’s up. “That sounds nice.”

She hums, clearly skeptical. Sometimes Matthew hates how well she knows him. “Seriously,” he insists. “It’ll be nice. Do whatever you want, I know you’ll make it nice.”

She will, too. Matthew knows she’ll get everything set up perfectly, and everyone will have a great time, and he’ll be glad to see them all. It’s just that his brain is seizing up every time he tries to imagine this season, unable to come up with an idea of what it’s going to be like to play in St. Louis, to play with a brand new team. To play with Draisaitl.

“Okay,” Mom says. “I’m not going to book anything yet, so let me know if you change your mind.”

Matthew won’t. He wouldn’t let her down like that, much less the rest of his family. “I won’t,” he says, but he’s already thinking about everything else that’s going to happen this season. Brady brought some of it up when they argued, that Matthew’s going to have to decide about so much off-ice stuff that he’s been ignoring. How he wants to present himself to the city of St. Louis and what the team expects of him as a representative but also a local.

Thinking about it makes him want to hang up the phone and maybe walk straight into Lake Ontario.

He’s still lost in thought while Mom hands the phone over, and he’s startled to hear Dad’s voice in his ear.

“Hi,” he says, a beat too late, and Dad laughs. “Sorry, I was thinking about stuff.”

“Sure you were,” Dad says, laughing. “I know you just don’t want to listen to me.”

Matthew could argue with him; of course he wants to listen. He’s listened to him on more topics than he can count for as long as he can remember. He wants to hear what his dad, who he admires as a person and a hockey player, has to say.

He’s not in the mood for it right now. The joke grates, but it always has, and nothing Matthew says has ever made it stop grating, or made Dad stop making it. He just chuckles. Over the phone, Dad won’t be able to tell that it’s a little forced.

“What were you saying?” Matthew asks. “I’m listening now, I promise.” The laugh under those words is a little forced too, but in Matthew’s defense he’s just got a lot on his mind. Some of it’s stuff he could talk about with Dad if he felt like it. But sometimes Dad just—well, sometimes Matthew thinks he answers questions like that based on what he would do rather than what he thinks would work for Matthew.

“Have you thought at all about what number you’re going to wear?” Dad asks.

This one, then.

Matthew has, of course. He knows that it’s a little conspicuous that he hasn’t settled on one yet. He knows people want to know what he’s going to do, have since the day he signed. That it would feel pointed if he didn’t wear Dad’s number but also if he did.

“I’m just focusing on training right now,” he says. He’s shit at lying to Brady and Taryn, but he can lie to Dad. Not about everything, not all the time. But he can do it, even if it makes his stomach churn.

They can always talk about it when Matthew’s back in St. Louis. Dad will be around, and Matthew does care what he thinks about it, especially if he hasn’t made up his mind by then.

Dad clears his throat, a little too pointed for Matthew’s taste. He knows what Dad wants, that Dad wants Matthew to wear his number and play the way he did and step perfectly into his shoes. Matthew doesn’t know if he can do that. Playing in Calgary made it easier to not do that, and he’s gotten used to it. There’s also the fact that there’s no guarantee it’ll happen in exactly the way Dad is having it play out in his head, even if Matthew did want it to.

“Seriously,” Matthew says. Too insistent. Pushing too hard. Dad brings that out in him, and sometimes it’s in good ways and other times it’s this. “We’ll talk when I’m back at home.”

“Sure,” Dad says, and it doesn’t sound sarcastic, but Matthew can tell he’s a little disappointed. Though he’s probably a little disappointed that this wasn’t the first conversation they had after Matthew signed, so that ship has sailed. “Looking forward to it.”

“Course,” Matthew says.

“You want to talk to Mom again?” Dad asks, and honestly, Matthew does.

“Have you really not decided yet or are you just bullshitting?” Mom asks as soon as she has the phone back. She must have gone into another room.

“I really haven’t decided,” Matthew says. “I swear.”

She laughs, and it feels different than when Dad laughs. That’s always been true, and Matthew’s never thought much about it, but he does now.

Matthew remembers following Dad around arenas as a little kid, wearing a jersey that hung down to his knees and wobbling on skates off the ice. He remembers thinking that his dad was the coolest person in the whole world, that he wanted to be just like him when he grew up. He also remembers the few early teenage years where he got to know Dad better, and the conversations they had as Matthew started to make decisions for his career, how much insight and perspective Dad was able to provide. He just also remembers the arguments when he was 15 and 16, the way that Dad never quite managed to hide what he thought would be best, even when he was trying to be supportive.

Matthew knows him well enough now to have an understanding of him as a whole person, good and bad.

“I’ll talk about it with him when I’m back home,” Matthew says. He means it.

“Okay,” Mom says. He can practically hear her smiling. “You don’t need to ask for his advice unless you want it,” she says. Matthew knows that. He also knows Dad will be gutted if Matthew doesn’t ask for his input. “Dad is yelling from the other room to tell you to text him when you’ll be back so he can set up a tee time for you two.”

“I will,” Matthew says. A deadline, then, unless he wants to talk about nothing but this for a full 18 holes, which, frankly. He’d much rather spend the time picking through all the rosters in the conference and making stupid wagers over who’s going to contend this year.

“He will!” Mom shouts, not even bothering to cover the phone. It rings in Matthew’s ear.

“Thanks,” he says, failing to muffle his laughter. “Talk to you soon?”

“Course,” Mom says. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Matthew answers before he hangs up.

[cellythefloshie]

;; The Signing

Summary: Morgan struggles to forget about Emmy, a fan he met at a meet and greet. And when he the opportunity presents itself, Morgan doesn't shy away from taking his shot. Kinks & TW: mild sexual fantasies about a stranger, hosiery, first kiss, dry humping, unprotected sex, fingering, wall sex, creampie. A/N: I think this is only my second time writing male POV smut so be gentle with me. I'm tired so I'm not editing this well, and this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS so no I'm not waiting any longer to share this with you. Shout out to @hockeyboysimagines who planted this seed and has supported me as I ran with it. I know Barron isn't a well known/well loved guy in this community but fuck it, this fic has been so much fun to write. About the OC: Emmy, brunette with brown eyes... ( think the emmy rossum or leighton meester - i pictured them both while writing emmy )...that's about it. If I took the time to really develop her, this would be a full on novel. Word Count: 13k+

When you played hockey, even just as a child, you were part of something bigger than yourself. There was a greater community, one that would always stand by you and you by them through victory and loss, and things greater than the game of hockey itself. Morgan Barron had experienced that first hand out on the ice during the many themed nights from when the New York Rangers would support First Responders to the Winnipeg Jets as they supported the cultural diversity of their great city, and everything in between. And he had felt it all again after he had taken a skate blade to the face during the Jets' appearance in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. The community had so quickly rallied around him, and in turn, giving back and getting out into the community was one of Barron’s favorite things to do during his downtime during the season. 

Some of his outings included visiting the children’s hospital with his teammates, others he spent alone - like the night he spent in a local sports collectible shop for a meet and greet with the fans, the community. 

The parking lot was full, and the overflow of parking sprawled up the length of the residential street. In the darkness, lined along the street curb, was the dim glow of headlights. One after the next, as each person wanting to meet him waited in the warmth of their cars instead of lining up in the Winnipeg chill caught somewhere between fall and winter. 

There was no snow on the ground yet, but the air was cold. And the roads were uneven, ridden with potholes, even as he turned into the parking lot. It rocked him in the seat of his truck as he pulled into the one spot that had been reserved for him. Sliding out of the cab, he took in a shark inhale, the cold hair harsh on his lungs, but the jog to the front door was brief. Inside, the little staff they had set up a table and chair for him and once he sat in it, his jacket draped over the back of it, his night began. 

One by one, Morgan met the fans. He loved it, but a part of him almost felt bad. Chances were, at the end of the night, he would remember a handful of their faces and one or two of their stories as they told them to him. While to them, meeting him would be a story on their social media channels at the very least. The things he signed would be added to one collection, or another. But to him, each conversation blurred into the next. 

Some asked about his scar, others pointed out just how nice it had healed. Then came those who commented on his game and wished him luck for the rest of the season. And with every single one of them, Morgan gave them all of his effort and undivided attention. That was all but one. 

Morgan has been in the middle of personalizing an autograph when he heard the door chime. Through the first fifty or more meet and greets, it had been nothing more than background noise as fans came and went. But for some reason, he had decided to look up as his silver Sharpie marker finished off the now too bold 36. 

Through the door came a young woman, no more than five years older than her, maybe even five years less. It was hard to tell these days, especially when someone was alone. If you were lucky, you would be able to guess just by how she interacted with her friends. But he had a mere few seconds to stare at her between signings. She stood just inside the door, her hand pulling her ticket out of her pocket to show her placement in line. And while that was the first thing she did, the first thing Morgan noticed was her smile. It was one that was almost too perfect, one that could only come from wearing braces. And her pale face was framed by lone, brunette curls that almost looked auburn in the fluorescent light. They may have even hung down into her eyes if it weren’t for the sunglasses pushed up onto the top of her head, more of an accessory than a necessity with the sun having set not long after the traditional workday had ended. 

Morgan tore his eyes from her when there was a shuffle of footsteps at his side. The next fan had finished paying for their small pile of photos to be signed, and the hockey cards that rested on top of them. He greeted them with a smile and fell into the same casual conversation he had all night. 

He did the same with the next, who had a single number from the 3 and 6 pairing that would be stitched onto the back of a jersey that would bear his name. 

It was then, after two encounters, that felt more like lifetimes than minutes, that the woman who had so easily stolen his attention stood at his side. With a small step to the side, she was offering her cell phone to one of the staff members to take a few photographs before she was handing him the puck she had brought to be signed. It was in a square plastic case that took up the space on his palm. The small square of paper inside listed his name and the time at which he had scored the goal. Morgan smiled as he read it over. The puck itself had been from an AHL game. From back when he had been traded from the New York Rangers to the Winnipeg Jets and had played the remainder of that season with their affiliate, the Manitoba Moose. 

She must have been watching him play for some time. 

Smiling, Morgan looked up at her, waiting to just catch a glimpse of a smile back at him, but she didn’t do much more than glance his way. She must have been nervous, trying to hide it between a laugh and avoiding eye contact as she spoke more to the staff than to him. 

She was telling the story of just how his trade, and his play with the Moose had put her on the path of being a Jets fan, again. Morgan signed the puck slowly, his eyes raising to look up at her on occasion until he had finished fitting the signature onto the puck. Then he sat back, and the chair listened to her tale. Not once did his smile fade, and his eyes did not leave her - even if they did wander. 

On her shoulders rested one of the Winnipeg Jets Reverse Retro Jackets that had been sold during the last regular season. It was a jacket that had been earning her compliments since she had walked through the door. And they weren’t wrong. It was a nice jacket. It looked great on her. Hell, she looked great, period. He couldn’t tell much of what she wore underneath the jacket, safe for a sliver of black fabric. He was sure could only be her blouse, and the small glimmer of a silver chain that hung around her neck. But it was her legs that quickly caught his attention. Even in the cold, she had gone out wearing a miniskirt. Intentional or not, she had caught his attention. His eyes dragged up and down the length of her, from the ankle of her brown boots, up over the curves of her thighs that disappeared under the plaid fabric that encased the breadth of her hips. 

He did his best not to stare at how she shifted the weight of her body from one foot to the next awkwardly as she spoke. Or how the slit of her skirt, as it rested over one thigh, looked as if with one wrong move, the stretchy fabric would reach its limits and rip. But it was there as his eyes fixated on the fabric that he did notice a rip, not in her skirt, but in her tights. To anyone else I would have gone unnoticed, but to him as he sat at her side, looking up and so fixated on every bit of her, he was taking in every little detail. The barely there run in her thighs started just above her right knee. The pale hosiery almost an exact match to her flesh, but he followed the run in the tights up, over the flesh of her thigh and to where it seemed to disappear between her thighs. 

Morgan’s mouth went dry, his eyes fixated there on the shadows between her thighs. Without touching her, without even getting out of his chair to get closer to her, Morgan could feel that would radiate off her skin. It made his palms begin to sweat, and it ignited a fire that burned over every inch of his body as he thought about how smooth her skin would feel as his hands slid over her thighs. And how tight the hosiery would be as he took it in each of his fists and tore a hole in them in just the right places-

Taking a sharp inhale, Morgan fixed his eyes on her smile one last time before he could really let his mind falter. It was then he caught a single word of her story that challenged the smile that had grown so wide his cheeks had begun to hurt. 

Boyfriend. 

She had a boyfriend. 

Of course she would. A woman like her, they always had someone waiting for them back home. But that didn’t make him feel any less stupid. He shouldn’t have been looking at her the way he knew he had been with his wide grin and his eyes looking at her in a way he didn’t have words to describe. It was embarrassing, laughable even, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

Nobody did. 

Closing up the protective casing on the puck, Morgan left it there on the table as he stood. He would give her one proper picture before they would send her on her way, and he would move on to the next fan that had already been kept waiting. 

With the single step of his white sneaker scuffing against the floor and Morgan was standing right beside her. Even with the thick heel of her boot, he towered over her. She came up no higher than his chin as he reached out and placed his hand against the wind breaker. It was a light touch, not enough to earn that horrible scratch sound of its unique fabric, but just enough that he could feel the curve of her body against his palm. 

Morgan stood there with his smile, his dark curls threatening to fall down into his eyes, as he tried to ignore how she felt beneath his touch. And he fought through the temptations of letting his mind falter back into the depths that were his unfound fantasy about a beautiful stranger. 

When he pulled back, he secured the puck with the glide of his thumb over the plastic sticker she had pried open to give him access to the puck inside. Then he handed it back to her, her rough fingertips grazing over his soft touch as she muttered out a soft thank you.

“Thanks for coming,” he leaned in as he spoke, hating that he could muster anything more clever or more thoughtful to say. 

He wanted her to stay. To listen to her laugh, and to her stories. To learn her name, and give him time to say anything else but those pathetic words that left his lips. But Morgan could only watch her. Her hand tucked the puck into the cross body bag that hung across her body, and with one final thank you to the girls working the meet and greet, she was gone. 

The young woman would remain nothing more than a stranger, a memory. And with that acceptance of fate, Morgan sighed, carded a hand through the thickness of his curls, and he moved onto the next fan in line whose face would be nothing but the one that blurred into the next. 

After a loss, there was always a certain calm on the bus ride to the airport. No one said a word after a greeting from Schmidt, a quick, “we'll get ‘em next time boys!” before they claimed their seats and fell into their routines. But Morgan had started before he could board. With his headphones thumbed into each year, and his music loud, he kept his head down as he moved to the back of the bus and took a seat. 

It was never a long drive, but he was sure to get a few tracks in, as they played a little too loud in his ears to block out the noise of his teammates around him. -He desperately needed the distraction. While he wasn't playing poorly, Morgan felt he could be playing better. He could always be better.

Maybe he was being too hard on himself, but sometimes you needed to be. And when that weight became too heavy on his shoulders, Morgan disconnected. 

The music blared in his ears, and his eyes fell onto the hypnotic glow of his cellphone as he cradled it in one hand. With the swift motion of a single thumb, Morgan browsed one social media timeline and then the next. Sinking further and further into the rabbit hole until he found himself staring at his own Instagram profile. More specifically, his tagged photos. It was there, his thumb stilled. His eyes fixating on one picture that stood out among the masses of images the Winnipeg Jets had tagged him in. 

The picture stood out to him, the backdrop of a small hockey collectibles shop instead of a hockey rink. And he wasn't alone in the picture, or joined by any of his teammates. Beside him stood the pretty brunette from the signing all those nights ago. Her arm bent so casually behind his back as his hand rested just above the small of hers. Any lower and he would have gotten himself into trouble, but it was innocent enough. 

Morgan smiled a crooked smile as he studied the angle from the other side of the camera. Her smile was a little awkward, and she wasn't as photogenic as she was magnetic in person, but she still held his attention all the same. 

Fingers tapped the side of his phone almost anxiously, his thumb hovering over her account name on the screen. He shouldn't have been so curious, but it was quick to get the best of him.

Her account name was one that could have only been made in high school. Something silly, clever at the time, but she never got around to changing. And it didn't have much more to offer him than that. With her first name, Emmy, the only name left there for him to know she had left no age, no emojis or lovers' initials for him to read. 

And her photos are nothing more than mere snapshots into her life. She liked to paddle boards - one of the many beautiful Manitoba lakes the backdrop to the curves of her body in tiny bikinis. She hikes and fishes in the summer too, the pictures shared of winding trails and her latest big catch. But her winters are reserved for the love of the sport she played - the occasional photo of Canada Life Centre posted on the screen. And she has a cat, who she takes more pictures of than anything or anyone else. Even more so than herself, with her selfies few and far in between. 

Scrolling down, Morgan pressed his thumb to the touch screen to prevent it from scrolling any further as a realization took him. She was alone in almost every single one of her photographs. Returning to her profile, Barron scrolled and looked at the small collection of images she had chosen to share. Each one seemed distinct. Alone and unrelated to the one that came before and the other that came after. Fractures of what once was there; her boyfriend. 

There was no sign of him anywhere on her profile. Not one picture or tag. He had been removed from her life with the click of a button. 

His smile grew. It shouldn't have, but it did as he leaned back against the seat. 

Then, the idea of messaging her made his smile go broader, and Barron cast a glance to the surrounding seats to assure he hadn't gathered any unwanted attention from his teammates. And when he was sure they were distracted by one another or something on their own phones, Barron opened a direct message and watched the cursor blink. 

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, his mind blank, as he could decide what to say to her. In a perfect world, He could say literally anything to her and she would answer. But even as a NHL player, the chance of her screening him was high - hell, it felt higher than if he were just some average guy. And he didn't know if she was even looking for anything. A relationship, a friend, just someone to talk to… There was so much Morgan didn't know, including just how long she and her boyfriend had been separated. 

But he messaged her anyway. 

You google my name, and you get an entire Wikipedia page about my life. You google Emmy, and you get the awards. I want to know your story, if you’ll let me.

Staring at his phone screen, Morgen's heart fluttered in the depths of his chest at the unread message. It left him feeling nervous, sick even, knowing that she could read it and never reply-

“Hey,” a sharp shout met his ears. It was Schmidty calling to him from the front of the now empty bus. Well, empty except for him. “Bear. Com'on. Coach won't let us leave without you!” 

It was time to fly home.

For the entirety of his fight back to Winnipeg, Morgan slept to keep himself from constantly checking his phone. It was the only way to keep himself from holding his breath, leaving his lungs burning with the great anticipation of waiting for Emmy to reply. Hoping that she would, and the disappointment that would come if she didn’t. But that didn’t stop him from holding his breath as he walked out to his car and started up his phone. The bright light off the screen sent his eyes squinting as the darkness of the night surrounded him. One notification after the next had his phone vibrating in his hand, and his heart thundered as he read each one. And once he saw it, her smiling profile picture beside an Instagram notification, he held his breath until his lungs burned. She had answered! 

It was the first of many messages exchanged between them. The first of many conversations held between the awkwardness of his schedule. He sent quick messages in the mornings, after practice and before games and the late hours after. And she would answer the best she could when she could between her own chaotic schedule that came with working shift work. It wasn’t easy, but they made it work - but it made Morgan all the more nervous when he finally decided to ask her out to dinner, and all the more excited when she said yes. 

Earls on Main street was one of the nicest restaurants in Winnipeg without being intimidating and unapproachable for a first date. It was a place the guys on the team liked to frequent after a victory or during some downtime in a city that really had very little to do during the season unless you liked ice fishing or comedy clubs. And it was somewhere close to both of them, with it behind a mere ten-minute walk from the arena where Morgan parked his car and Emmy had claimed it was close to home for her as well, though Morgan did worry she had only said that to be agreeable. 

He arrived early, securing a table by the window looking over main street as it was already becoming congested with rush hour traffic. Cars sat bumper to bumper on weather eroded roads. The music that set the ambiance of the restaurant couldn’t even block their symphony of honking out. Each heavy honk interrupted the calm and reminded him of the nerves in the depths of his chest as he waited for Emmy. 

The beads of condensation could only calm the sweat of his palms as they dripped down the cold glass of his beer as it was handed to him. Sneaking one in before dinner wouldn’t hurt, not if it eased the worry in his mind. Dating as a hockey player in New York had been easy. He was a bottom 6 plug who barely broke the lineup back then. Girls weren’t intimidated by him, and they were different. Morgan had always had a type, that was for sure. He liked them brunette and outdoorsy, straying away from his type only a handful of times when it served him well. Emmy fit a lot of things in a woman he usually looked for. That alone should have put him at ease, but two things nagged him into the depths of his mind. Being a hockey player in the small city of Winnipeg meant you were a local celebrity. Some women didn’t like the attention that came with being around him. Then there was the biggest worry of all, something he had never worried about until her: what if she didn’t share his attractions? 

Texting was one thing. Something you could do with anyone, regardless of interest or attraction. Something you could do aimlessly when you were bored or trying to kill time. It was how you conversed in person that really mattered. That was where you showed your interest and how you really got to know them. Sitting at a table with someone you aren’t interested in would be harder - and all he could do as he polished off the golden ale of his beer was hope that it wouldn’t be the case. 

A steady hand lowered the empty glass down to rest on a coaster before his hand dropped to his phone that rested face down on the table. Morgan had tried not to watch the time, but the traffic was starting to calm and Emmy had yet to make an appearance. Almost thirty minutes had passed since he had arrived, and ten minutes since the agreed upon meeting time. He shifted in his seat as he placed the phone down again. Ten minutes wasn’t enough to be worried, but the waitress circled like a shark with blood in the water. 

“You have a chance to look over the menu,” the waitress, Jenn, spoke sweetly as she approached him. Her hand was quick to come to rest on the back of the chair behind him, and she smiled down at him, waiting for her response. 

“I’m still waiting on my date,” his head cocked, trying not to sound rude as he gestured to the seat across from him, “she shouldn’t be much longer, but maybe some water for the table?”

“And another beer?”

He paused for a moment, contemplating. Then, Morgan shook his head and let out a soft, “No, I’ll be okay for now. Thank you.” 

His hands dropped to the table, his thumbs drumming on the wooden surface rhythmically. It was a hollow distraction from what was the haunting possibility that he had gotten stood up. The movement and the sound were the only thing keeping Morgan from dropping his palm into his hand, his disappointment only consuming him on the inside. It bubbled there and almost became enough for him to leave enough cash on the table to cover the beer and a generous tip. And he almost did it, but when his thumbs stilled, he heard her. 

“Oh, yes, I see him. Thank you.”

Sitting up straight in his seat as he looked out over the restaurant that was beginning to grow consumed by the dinner rush. Walking down the narrow aisle between the bar and the seats along the large front windows, he found Emmy. She walked towards the table carrying two bags on one arm and her puffy white winter coat tossed over the other. Her coat is so large he can’t make out what she was wearing until she was draping it over the back of her chair: a pair of tight pleather pants hugged at her hips, a white blouse tucked in at the waist and she wore white sneakers that looked so clean he was sure they had never been worn outside. His eyes traced the curves of her body as he admired her, down one side and up the other until they fixated on her face-framing curls that hung loosely from the hold of her claw clip. Between each tendril was the smile he remembered so fondly. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” her apology was quick and punctuated with a small huff that left her shoulder rising and falling with her breath. And her eyes didn’t quite meet his as she draped her coat over the back of her chair. 

She looked a little embarrassed, frustrated, maybe, but Morgan wanted to do his best to put her at ease. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Morgan stood up quickly, his hand reaching out to take hold of the back of her chair in a simple act of courtesy. He drew it back slowly, towering over her as he offered her a friendly smile. “Long day?”

“Very.” There was a tiredness in her voice, and it had Morgan’s smile on the verge of wavering. 

They could have postponed, he wouldn’t have minded. Yet, there she was looking a little defeated, a little tired with faint purple bags under her eyes that she tried to hide with concealer, but just as beautiful as the night she had walked into the collector's shop to meet him. 

She smiled across the table at him; he smiled back, and before he could say anything else, the waitress Jenn had returned to serve them. 

They started their date with a glass of wine, something to take the edge off. It calmed his nerves, and he watched the tension melt away from her shoulders with each sip of her glass. Then came dinner that was paired with soft laughs and conversation, before they finished with coffee and desserts. Hours passed, the sunset and the restaurant cleared until it felt like they were the only two left in the place. And he would stay there with you until the lights went down, and they tried to kick you both out if he could. He liked Emmy’s company, and he was sure she did too by the way she laughed and how the conversation never seemed to die. Even the silence as he sipped what was left of his coffee felt right in her company. 

Morgan’s lips parted in a satisfied hum as he leaned back in his seat, his long legs stretching out just far enough to brush against hers beneath the table. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t even flinch. He wonders if she even noticed his touch, his warmth as his leg rested so casually against what he was sure was her knee. It was the subtlest of touches, and it only left him wanting more. Morgan wanted to reach out over the table and hold her hand. To feel the smooth skin of her fingers and toy with the ring she wore on her right little finger. He wanted to press his hand to her lower back, to let it so subtly find her curves as they walked together. But there was nothing more he wanted than to take her home. To take her to her bed or his and explore every inch of the body he had been left to dream about since the day he met her. 

He wanted their night to continue after dinner. To keep making her laugh, but also make her moan. 

But he couldn’t have her and be a gentleman both-

“Is there anything else I can get you two?” Jenn’s quick question pulled Barron from his thoughts, his head snapping in her direction as he was reminded that he and Emmy were not, in fact, alone in the restaurant.  

“Just the bill, please,” he smiled before looking across the table at Emmy, who smiled back at him in return. Jenn left them, and with a quick glance over the near empty, he half laughed, “I think we overstayed our welcome.”

“I’m not complaining,” she assured him. “It’s a shame they aren’t open later. I could have probably sat here all night.”

Morgan had to bite his tongue. He was sure that was his chance to make this more than just dinner, but maybe she was just being polite. Complimenting his company. Besides, he had already decided he was going to be a gentleman. 

When Jenn returned with the bill, she didn’t linger. She placed the thin leather receipt book down, directly between them and half hanging off the table’s edge. The white edge of the receipt peaking out for the top. Morgan offered a soft, thankful smile as he reached out for it, his hand wrapping around it effortlessly as he drew it back to his side of the table while the other slipped into his back pocket for his wallet. 

“Here, let me cover my half,” Emmy insisted, her hand reaching out to catch the very edge of the book, her fingers so close to his Morgan’s breath hitched, wishing she had reached out for his hand. 

Morgan didn’t even have to think about it. Maybe her insistence was her trying to be kind. A show of equality, the strength of her femininity. But he couldn’t let her pay. It didn’t feel right. Not while he made millions a year. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“But then-” she began to counter, but cut herself off with the bite of her own teeth on her lower lip. 

Morgan’s shoulder slumped, his head hanging there as his eyes shut and a heavy sigh shook him. He didn’t need her to finish to know what she was going to say. 

But then this would be a date. A real date. Not just two people spending the entire evening together with wine, a meal, and what he thought was great company. Had he been wrong? Had she not enjoyed their evening together?

The thought hurt him to even wonder, but he hit the ache in his chest behind a crooked smile and continued to go through his wallet with the intention of paying the bill in full. “I insist,” he continued to assure, his words gentle, “it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. This doesn’t have to be anything more than dinner.”

She was silent for a moment, her glossy eyes fixated on the receipt as her hands slid from the tabletop to rest on her lap. Emmy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a heavy breath rocking her shoulders as she conceded, “yeah, okay, but only if you insist.”

There was a heaviness between them as he paid the bill, making sure to leave a tip for Jenn who was forward but friendly with her service. He offered his thank you's, and helped Emmy gather her things before they moved to the front doors together. It was only as they entered the building’s lobby that she spoke again. 

“I’m sorry, I should have-” she cut herself off with a sigh, “It’s been a while since I’ve gone out with anyone I-” Emmy rambled, as she rounded one of the chairs in the lobby and seated herself down. She draped her coat over her lap, and placed her bags at her feet, her attention on them instead of Morgan, who lingered standing tall at her side. 

And he almost frowns. It’s like she can’t find the words she really wants to say to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assured, his hands dipping into the pockets of his jeans as he slouched his shoulders. He couldn't help but be responsible for what now felt like a miscommunication. “I could have been-”

“No, no, it wasn’t you,” she sighed, her hand falling to her hands, “you’ve been great. Really. A perfect gentleman-” Morgan wanted to beam, but he kept his composure as he moved to sit across from her, “It’s just, this has all been harder for me to adjust to than I thought.”

This? Dating. 

Morgan sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. It was hard not to be selfish. To not be upset with the fact that she was struggling to get back into the dating game when he was sitting right in front of her. But it wasn’t easy, not if her boyfriend was someone she had hoped to spend the rest of her life with while he was just supposed to be a hockey player on her television screen. 

He did his best not to be upset, defeated by the fact that maybe she wasn’t all that interested in him or ready to move on, but Morgan showed her compassion regardless. “How long were you two together?”

“Five years… give or take a few months.”

“And how long has it been since…”

“Three months…”

Morgan let out a long, heavy sigh. The break up was still very, very fresh for her. And after being in a relationship for so long, it could take her months, maybe even years, to recover. It was something he couldn’t rush, even if he wanted to be selfish and have her all for himself. 

“If it’s any consolation, I had a very nice night with you, Emmy. And I’d like to see you again, even if it’s just as friends.”

A soft smile splayed over her features as her arms hugged her coat to her chest. “I’d like that.” Her warm eyes met him for a moment. So soft and warm, they alone were almost enough to draw him in, but Morgan kept himself at bay, smiling along with her soft words, “I mean, how am I supposed to pay you back if I don’t see you again?”

“Em,” Morgan started to protest, and her smile only grew. 

“At least let me buy you a beer sometime, as a thank you,” she insisted. 

And how could he say no if it meant securing plans to see her again?

“Okay, fine,” his words were laced with a hint of laughter, “one beer.” 

Emmy smiled at the compromise, her warm gaze falling from his features and to her bed. Morgan watched as she rummaged through it, curious to know what she was searching for, only for his brows to knit when she pulled out a pair of winter boots. 

“You don't plan on walking home, do you?” He asked her quickly. It was late, and sure the buses would be running and taking a taxi was always an option, but Morgan wanted to assure she was getting home safe. 

“I always walk home, it's not far,” she assured. 

“I've kept you out pretty late it’s-” 

“Not safe?” she cut in, smiling. She's had this talk many times before. “I've lived in downtown Winnipeg longer than you've been pro.” 

Morgan raised his hands up, but this wasn't a defeat. “Alright, tough guy, the people of Winnipeg better watch out for you. But please, let me give you a ride, at the very least, to give me some peace of mind.” 

Emmy cocked her head to the side, her warm brown eyes looking across at him as she continued to smile. For a moment, Morgan Thought she might have the gull to refuse him, to insist on walking home alone regardless of his offer. But then she tucked her boots back into her bag and stood up to pull on her coat. 

“Alright, fine. You can drive me home, but only because it's late,” she accepted his offer with a smile, and then took his arm as it was offered to her. 

They walked together, with her arm linked around his, through the city's skywalk system to keep away from the winter's chill. They made small talk, sharing casual conversation about plans for the coming days as they walked back to where he left his truck parked closer to the rink in their secured parking. And she didn't let her touch slip away from him until he had opened the passenger side door of his truck and helped her inside. 

The drive to her apartment was quick, no longer than 5 minutes, and was only delayed by the series of one-way streets he had been forced to wind through and his need to ask Emmy for directions. Her apartment, a mere five story building surrounded by towering sky rises, was calm out front. Light glowed from a number of the windows, but the street itself was calm and felt worlds away from the arena that was no more than four city blocks away. It didn't feel like the city there, so close to the heart of Winnipeg but also so close to the river, and the nature Manitoba was known for. 

Morgan smiled up at the quaint little apartment before he looked across the front seat and to Emmy, whose hand had dropped to unbuckle her seatbelt. “No wonder you go to so many games-”

He bit his tongue. All night, they had done their best not to talk about work. His or hers. The only way he would have known she went to as many games as she seemed was from looking at her social media. Which he had, too many times, before their date that night.

“Are you creeping on me?” Her words were more of a tease than a question. 

Morgan smiled wider. 

“I might have, once or twice.”

Blush flooded her cheeks, her head turning to try to hide it from him, but it still lingered when she looked back with a small smile she was trying to contain as she spoke. “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Thanks for the company.”

“I had a good time.”

There it was. The awkward pleasantries that lead up to the goodbye. The ones that were sandwiched between the feeling of wanting to spend more time with one another and the finality of needing to leave. Worst of all, he wanted to go with her. Morgan would have parked his car on the street and went up to her apartment with her if she had extended the invitation, and would ruin his every effort to remain a gentleman. But they sat in silence, sharing soft smiles as the car sat in the middle of the road, obstructing the traffic that didn't exist at that time of night. 

Yet, neither of them could manage to say what needed to be said. Goodbye. 

Even as she grabbed her bags, it couldn’t slip off his tongue. Not even as he saw her hand hesitate as she reached for the door could Morgan find a single word. Not a goodbye, not the wait that sat lodged in the back of his throat, no matter how desperately he wanted to scream it. And for a moment he thought he might have, because Emmy froze and she placed her bags back down on the floor of the truck. Then she shimmied into the center seat, her arms reaching around him so carefully in a cautious embrace. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she whispered out, her hot words felt against his neck. 

Morgan’s jaw set, a single arm wrapping around her and drawing her in just a little closer. The strength of his arm coiled around her, his fingers gripping at the curve of her waist as his face found its place in the crook of her neck. He breathed her in, felt her warmth, yet he didn't feel close enough. Morgan wanted nothing more than to pull her closer - but if she were any closer, Emmy would be in his lap. 

He held her until he felt her slip away from him. But she didn't go far. She lingered in the space that was once left void between them, breathing his air and not quite out of his reach. Morgan could feel her every heated breath on his cheeks, and watched at her brown doe eyes as they traced the angles of his features. But it was only as she stared fixated on his lips that Morgan felt he knew what she wanted. 

A single hand raised up, his touch meeting the skin of her cheek. Feeling her was so smooth in contract, his hockey callous hands against perfectly imperfect flesh. Fingertips grazed over her cheek carefully, traveling up to her hairline and drew her in. 

His kiss was quick and chaste. That was until Morgan felt her kiss him back. The soft gentle drag of her full lips that almost seemed to gasp at the fiction. He drew her in a little closer, the soft sound sending his heart racing as his tongue swept out between his teeth and tasted the very entrance of her mouth before Morgan found his restraint. 

Morgan's hands fell from her face, his gaze dropping to look down at his truck seat, ashamed. 

He shouldn't have done that. 

“I’m sorry,” his words caught in the back of his throat and his tongue parted his lips and ran over them just to taste what remained of her on his lips. 

“Don’t be,” Emmy breathed out, the heat of her words felt on his face as she had yet to really pull away from him. She was so close he thought she might lean back in, that she might let him kiss her again if he reached up and took her cheeks in both of his hands. And he considered doing it, even as his hands reached up to grip the steering wheel in restraint. The long moment of opportunity passed and all of her warmth was gone in one simple motion as she opened the truck door. The gust of Winnipeg winter wind left him shivering as she grabbed her things. 

“Good night, Morgan,” she told him softly as she moved to slip out the passenger door, where she froze one last time. “Can I call you in the morning?”

Morgan took in a sigh of relief. “Please do.”

The edge of the cold, hard, white plastic of the key card tapped against the rounded edge of his steering wheel as Morgan drove towards the airport. There was a flurry in the sky. Fluffy snowflakes that left the road slick and congested with traffic, but not even that could frustrate him. Not with the key card pinched between his two fingers. 

He didn’t know what it was for, but he knew who it belonged to. It must have fallen from Emmy’s purse, or her pocket when he had given her a ride home. Whether it was intentional or not, he didn’t know. But it gave him an excuse to message her as he rolled to a stop in the parking lot outside the Winnipeg Richardson International Airport. 

The text message may have sounded like an innuendo if it hadn’t been for the picture of her keycard in his hand as he held it out in front of him. 

And as he broke the news, Emmy was quick to respond. 

At two in the morning, when the city was calm and the only thing that was open was the occasional gas station or convenience store, the drive from the airport to downtown Winnipeg was quick. Morgan’s truck was the only vehicle on the road safe for the occasional taxi driving club goers home, or an emergency vehicle wailing through the street on their way to the next call. But the air was quiet when Morgan pulled into the victory parking space behind Emmy’s building. A small caution greeted him, any cars parked there after two in the morning would be towed. He looked to the left, parked car, he looked to the right, another car. This one was covered in snow, and looked like it had been there a number of days. And he shrugged. There was nothing he had to worry about. 

Leaning across the center console, Morgan reached into the glove-box where he stored Emmy’s key card for the short time he had been in Chicago. He tapped it between his fingers, grinning. It was such a simple thing. A plain white card, misplaced, allowed him to see her again so much sooner than he could have anticipated. What was surely a headache for her was a gift to him. 

Morgan smiled the entire way to the building’s front door, where with quick fingers he quickly pressed the cold buttons that would alert her that he had arrived. A cold wind chilled him as he stood, waiting as the ring of the apartment directory box rang. Shoulders raised and his neck shrunk down into his coat as his hands drove into his pockets. Morgan listened to each droning ring, his heart racing at the prospect that it was too late, that Emmy had most likely fallen asleep before the plane had even landed. 

But then he heard her, her voice sounding distorted and robotic as it came through the speaker, “take the elevator up!” 

Then all was quiet and there was nothing more to be heard until the lock on the door clicked. 

Drawing his hands from his pocket, the sticky cold of the handle greeted his palms. It melted beneath his quick touch and the warmth of the lobby embraced him. The contrast of hot and cold left his body shivering as he took quick strides up the quick steps of the lobby, and quickly found the elevator. It roared to life with the press of a button, leaving whatever floor it had stopped on to meet him on the main level. The door parted in front of him, revealing a small, empty elevator that he would take up to the 5th floor. When the doors parted again, he exited out into the hallway and looked left, then right, trying to gauge the layout of the floor only to find a familiar face. 

Emmy. 

“I thought it would be easier to meet you,” Emmy greeted him with a soft smile. 

His smile grew as his eyes dragged up and down her figure. Not only had she managed to stay awake for him, she hadn’t dressed down in her pajamas. Wherever she had been earlier in the evening had her dressed in a navy blue dress that hugged her body and stopped mid calf. His gaze lingered on the hem before following the angles of her legs down to her feet where she stood without shoes, but was not barefoot. She was wearing a pale hosiery that was barely there noticeable and it left his mind spiraling back to the very first night he had met her when the miniskirt she had been wearing wasn’t enough to hide the run in her tights. 

He swallowed hard, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. 

“Saves me from getting lost in the hallway,” Morgan tried to keep his words playful, his dry throat sticking to his words as he spoke. Then, while smiling, he dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out her key card. “Here, I-” he licked his lips, “I'm sorry I kept you up so late waiting on me.” 

Emmy smiled. Then, she reached out and took it from his hand as it was offered to her. Her delicate touch fluttered over his hand for a moment before she pulled it into her chest. 

“Late? Hardly,” her tone was chipper, reassuring, “I was actually-” she looked down the hallway to what he was sure was her door. Emmy chewed at her bottom lip, sighing as she brought her free hand up to push through her long, brunette curls, “did you want to come inside?” 

Her question had been blurted out when her mind had failed to find words smoother or more coy during her brief moment of hesitation. 

And Morgan should have said no. He knew he should have. But with the memory of her tiny skirt and long legs weighing heavily on his mind, he couldn't refuse. 

Smiling, Morgan gestured up the hall silently and let her lead the way into her apartment at the end of the hallway. It was a good size for one person with the kitchen and main living space visible from the door. The lights were dim, their glow lighting up a wall of bookshelves and her sofa. Across from in, a single television and photographs hung above. It's quaint, comfortable, but he can tell there used to be more. There were large spaces of openness. Like half of the furniture was missing - a void of what was once more left behind. And tucked into the corner, just below the large windows that looked out over the parking lot, and the Assiniboine River, was a pile of boxes. 

Maybe she was moving, or maybe she was just hiding from the memories. 

He didn’t pry. 

“Nice place you got here,” He complimented as he kicked off his shoes and pushed them to the side where a pair of her boots sat on a plastic mat to keep the melted snow from becoming a puddle on the floor, “is there somewhere I can put my coat?”

Morgan hated himself for asking. He shouldn't have been settling in. 

“Here, I can take it,” she was quick to offer, her hands finding his coat as it slipped from his arms. Her touch left his shoulder tense, and his heart racing as he watched her move halfway up the hallway to hang up his coat in the closet. “Did you want a drink or something?”

“No, no, I'm fine, really,” Morgan assured, still standing in the doorway. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Emmy smiled, moving past him to curl up on the sofa. 

She sat right in the middle of the sectional, the chaise empty to her left and to her right her laptop with a book resting on top. And across her face came the glow of the television, the highlights from the game playing on repeat. The Jets had won 3-2 in overtime, but it wasn't a game he was proud of. He had less than 10 minutes of ice time, his play was lacking and his mind distracted as he knew that when he landed back in Winnipeg, he had to come back and see her. He knew she watched the game, but she wished she hadn't. At Least then maybe he could pretend he had played better. 

“You watched the game?” He gestured to the television as he approached the couch slowly and took the vacant space next to her on the chaise. 

“Yeah,” she said, “had my family over to watch after grabbing dinner. Hence the dress, I didn't just-”

“Put it on for me?” The suggestion slipped from Morgan's lips before he could stop himself, and it left his tongue feeling like it was swelling in his mouth. The feeling left his mouth gaping, his eyes shutting as he hid his own embarrassment behind his hand. 

“Lounge around in business casual,” she offered him the rest of her words, her smile coy as she brought her legs up to curl off to the side. 

As he peeked through his fingers, he was hyperaware of every one of her movements and how the fabric of her dress raised up higher on her legs as she got comfortable. The dark fabric bunched around her knees, exposing the narrow ripple of the runs as they began and traveled up to where he couldn't see.

“I'm sorry,” Morgan laughed, his hand falling back to his lap as he turned to face her straight on. He should have asked her about her day then. It would have been a nice distraction from the fool he had made of himself, but he had already shoved his foot in his mouth already. “I'm just a little distracted… You just look so pretty over there.”

Over there. He wanted to hit his palm against his forehead. She was mere inches from him, her body within his reach and even closer as she turned to prop her elbow on the back of the sofa and her head in her hand. She gazed at him, her eyes soft, like he was a daydream, and her smile grew with the red flush of her cheeks. 

“I can't tell if you're nervous, or trying to be coy,” Emmy hummed playfully.

And he couldn't tell her it was neither. Morgan wasn't nervous or coy. He was just a man who wanted nothing more than to take her by the legs, hoist up the skirt of her dress and rip a hole in her tights. 

“Which one gets me a kiss?” 

Her entire face lit up at the question, and she knew it. Emmy tried to hide it from him as she looked away at the television, but her composure was weaning, as was his own. “Bringing me my badge gets you a kiss.” 

Emmy leaned in, her eyes shutting and her face softening, and found his lips in a soft kiss that was not much more than a fluttering graze that left his hand flexing with restraint. He wanted nothing more than to draw her back in, to kiss her firmly, deeply, and then he saw her smile and how the corner of her lips curled up and the brightness of her eyes flickered like candle light. She hadn't kissed him like that to be gentle or sweet. Emmy was teasing him - testing him - and he failed. There was no hiding that he wanted more from her. He could feel it written all over his own face as his jaw slacked and eyes narrowed as she leaned in again and placed another slow kiss to his mouth. 

It was an agonizing kiss. Her full lips brushed against his, meeting his kiss with all of her calm sweetness gone. Emmy was as eager as he was. Their kiss hastened, her lips parting and her tongue gliding over his lips before he could reach both hands up to cup each side of her face. It drew her in deeper, his tongue tasting hers and coaxing a soft sound up her throat. It was a mix of a sigh and a moan, her lips melting into his as she pushed up onto her knees, but didn't let her lips stray from their kiss. 

She wanted to be closer to him, and Morgan welcomed it. His hands left her face, dropping down to hook behind her knees where the fabric of her dress bunched. He gripped her there, and used that leverage to pull her in closer, over the rough gray fabric of the sofa. It was the only encouragement she needed to come in closer, her own hands reaching down to pull up the fabric of her dress just enough to climb into his lap.

His own heartbeat pounded in his ears at the feeling of her knees on either side of his thighs, and the warmth of her body as it bridged over him. Morgan could finally, for the very first time, after months of what ifs, maybes, and dreams that left him reeling in a cold sweat, feel her body against him. He could finally feel the curves of her waist and hips beneath his palms. He stoked over them as he kissed her, rubbing up and down and up again before they reached the hem of her dress that had raised up higher and higher until it came to rest at her mid thigh. So much of her was left exposed to him, yet there was so much more for him to uncover if Emmy left him. 

Morgan's hand dipped down, abandoning the skirt of Emmy's dress and grazing over the thin nylon hosiery. He stroked over it discreetly, until he found it, a single run that stretched from knee to inner thigh. Fingertips traced it lazily as he pulled back from the kiss of her lips and began to kiss along the soft angle of her jaw until he was speaking his heated words just below her right ear, “I can’t stop thinking about these.”

Two fingers found the largest point in the run and circled it slowly. Morgan could feel it stretch and grow beneath the friction. He smiled against the skin of her neck. 

“I noticed them the day I met you…” Morgan’s fingers toyed with the nylon, stretching it just a little wider so he could feel the soft flesh of her inner thigh before tracing the run back down to her knee. “You were wearing that little skirt. It was so short, how could I not look? Your curves, I noticed those first. If you don't count that smile.” 

He paused again, just long enough to draw back and take in the sight of Emmy as she sat there straddling his lap. Her eyes shut, her body completely still as if she was holding her breath, hanging on his every word as he offered her a mere fraction of the desire in his mind. 

“Your ass, your thighs. Too thick for the cheap tights…” he followed the run up high, almost to the very apex of her thigh, “so they stretch and they run.”

Emmy shuttered, whether it be from his touch of his words he didn't know, but he felt it. Morgan felt it across his lap first, her hips moving from side to side in an involuntary wiggle as the shiver had run its course down her body, and then he felt it in his thighs as her knees seemed to subtly squeeze around him before relaxing once more. It was paired with an unsteady breath, then another as his fingers stroked in small circles around the exposed skin at the very center of the run. 

He was so close to letting a single finger slip between the nylon and trying to rip it away from her skin. But he hesitated, waiting for her rejection or some sort of permission to keep going. Either way, the damage was done. Morgan had made his advance when he should have done nothing more than talk to her about her day and go home tired with nothing more than a thank you kiss. And as he waited with nothing but the sound of her eager breath to put him at ease, Morgan was sure he was going to be sent home at the cost of any kind of relationship with her going forward. 

But then she spoke, and he heard the smile in her tone, “so that's why you were looking at me like that.”

“Like what? Where?” he breathed out, his nose nuzzling into her neck before he placed a gentle kiss there. 

“At the signing,” her words were soft, jovial, “you were looking at me like I was the only person in that room.” Emmy’s head turned into his as she chuckled, her cheek grazing with his as she spoke softly, “and I was too nervous to even notice. I don't even know if I even looked at you the whole time…”

“You didn't,” he confirmed gently, “but I wished you would.” 

She drew back slowly, and he could no longer feel the heat of her breath against his skin but her doe-brown eyes looking down at him. “I didn't even believe it after looking at the photos. It was my friend who pointed it out…” 

“And what did she say?”

She looked away, and Morgan raised his free hand up to guide her gaze back to his. “Nothing appropriate.” 

“You and your friend, you're close?”

She nodded slowly. 

“You tell her about me?”

“Yes,” her head cocked to the side, “should I not have?”

“No, no,” Morgan shook his head, his hair falling down into his eyes, “I don't care about that. What did she say after our date?”

Emmy’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of pink and her shoulders slouched forward as she tried to avoid his gaze again. Whatever her friend, Emmy didn't want to repeat it, and that excited him. 

Leaning in, Morgan kissed her neck slowly. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that left a heated trail as he kissed his way down to the angles of her collarbone. He felt her breast heave against his chin as he spoke against her flesh. “What did she say, Emmy?” 

Morgan punctuated his question with the graze of his teeth over her collarbone, coaxing a shutter to run its course through her body once more. 

“She,” Emmy gasped, “asked if you fuck as good as you play hockey.” 

Morgan's lips caught on her flesh, dragging over it as he drew back just enough to look over the softened embarrassment on her features. Her friend's words were a bold, brash thing to say. Girl's talk, gossip even, and it had brought them to what felt like the turning point of their night. 

“What did you tell her?” Morgan asked. 

“That you were a perfect gentleman.” Her breath was sweet against his face as she spoke, his own lips so close to kissing her again. 

“That's too kind,” Morgan told her. His hand stroked over one of her cheeks before his fingers knitted into her brunette curls. He wanted nothing more than to anchor himself there. To use it to draw her in and to kiss her again. But that would make him far from the gentleman he was trying to be. 

Emmy needed time to heal, Mogan knew that. Her wounds of her breakup were still fresh. He could see it even as she sat there in his lap in the middle of her living room. The boxes piled and the emptiness that remained. That alone should have been enough to say goodnight. He should have done nothing more than place a simple kiss on her forehead and left, but there was no ignoring the tensions between them. The tension he had been trying to ignore since the very night he had met her. 

He was only a gentleman in practice. His thoughts, however, were the very opposite. 

“Morgan,” Emmy whispered out as she raised up both hands. They took hold of him on each side of his face, the delicate touch of her fingers tickling over his scar and up into his hair. He groaned at the tug on his scalp as her fingers tangled in his post game shower curls. Her touch was all he needed to close the breath of space between them. 

Their lips met unlike they had before. There was nothing chaste or cautious about the kiss. Emmy kissed him with such haste it was as if she thought he might disappear without notice. And his one large hand slid through her soft strands to the nape of her neck, drawing her in and kissed her with such depth Morgan swore he could taste something sweet on her tongue. Feeling it glide along the inside of his mouth coaxed a moan from the depths of his throat. Morgan had hoped the Kiss would have been enough to muffle it. That Emmy wouldn't hear the pathetic sound as it rumbled through his chest, but then he felt her smile against his lips. 

The soft, confident curl of each corner drew a smile of his own, their teeth smacking as they were caught somewhere between a kiss and laughter. There was a level of comfort there on her coach, with her in his lap, that Morgan couldn't have anticipated. It made his every decision easy and made without any hesitation. Morgan barely had to think, only act, and it only slipped out of control and onto instinct when he felt Emmy's hips roll against his own. 

There was no stopping himself from doing what he did next. His hands dropped to her hips instantly, gasping for a fistful of her dress and hosiery clad flesh. Morgan gripped her tight, his hands guiding her body so petite yet to curvy over the stiffening of his cock in his slacks. But it’s not enough. It only took two agonizing rotations before Morgan was slipping her to lie back on the chaise of her couch. Limbs hung over the side lazily as he hovered over her, his mouth capturing hers in a sloppy kiss as he rolled his hips down into hers. Fully clothed, her dress shifting up with the help of the tug of his hands, he felt like a desperate teenager. With Emmy’s hips raising to meet every roll of his own, he wanted nothing more to reach down and flick the button of his pants free. To ease the tension of his slacks over his cock that now raged against the fabric. The friction of her body alone would be enough to make him cum if that was as far as they decided to take things - but then he felt her hands. They fumbled in the space between them, down his chest and to the skirt of her dress. Emmy pulled it up, her body arching and contorting against his to work the navy fabric free. 

Morgan salivated, his hands finding the rough gray fabric of the couch to push off until he was kneeling on the hard, laminate floor in front of her just to get a good look at her. The chaise was too small for her to lie on comfortably. Her leg hung off over the end of the couch at the knee, while the other leg was bent, her heel pressed into the plush cushion. The rest of her body sprawled, her beige hosiery near invisible until the waist wrapped around her stomach and so flattering to her figure Morgan was left biting his lip. Then, there was the contrast of her black panties beneath, and the mismatch of her sunflower yellow bra to catch his eyes as they wandered over each swell and valley of her body. And she watched him in return as she lay there, her chest heaving and her hands coming to rest on the couch’s surface. He was too far out of her reach to touch, but her dark eyes that contrasted his so perfectly told him exactly what she wanted. 

A single hand reached back and gripped the light fabric of his t-shirt in his first. Morgan pulled it off in one fluid motion before it joined her dress on the floor. Then, his hand dropped to his best that sat too snug on his waist. He worked it free with one hand and pulled it free of each loop before dropping it to the floor with a clamor that even startled himself in what had become silence. He then leaned in, his pants hanging off his hips but not discarded, and let his touch return to the inside of her thighs. His calloused fingers traced over each run in her tights slowly, and his eyes followed each tear like roadways on a map while searching for the right direction. It was when he found the widest part of the run; he dipped one finger into it and began to work it larger. Then another. Emmy was shuddering by the time he was spreading his fingers, working the tear large enough to grip it with both hands. The fabric ripped with ease, the sound so satisfying, Morgan’s cock twitched. And he didn’t stop until the hole was ripped big enough for his fingers to tease the dark fabric of her panties. 

There was no seeing her arousal in the fabric that dark, but he could feel it with his knuckles as he let them brush over her crotch in their first teasing graze. He stroked her up and down, the friction against her cunt earning a strangled whimper from her lips. Morgan cocked his head. He wanted her to be louder. He didn’t know if she was holding back by practice or by embarrassment, but he could see it in how her eyes shut tight and her lips parted in a ghost of a moan that there was a sweet sound for him to hear. ‘

A single hand remained between her legs, turning so that his palm could stroke over her clit slowly as he climbed up onto the couch. With one knee between her legs, helping his hand in keeping her already trembling legs apart, Morgan’s lips returned to her mouth in a sloppy kiss. It was as he kissed her, and her hips raised to grind against his palm, that he heard her. A soft, delicate moan that had her tilting her head back into the cushions. 

He could make her louder than that, he was sure of it. 

Without drawing back, Morgan’s hand fumbled between her legs with the soaked fabric of her panties. He hooked them with one finger, then a second when he couldn’t get the grip just right. Tugging them to one side, his fingers felt just how wet she had become. The slick left his fingers gliding over her folds and earning a cuss from his own lips. His jaw slacked in awe at the feeling. The effortlessness of how his fingers moved over her core, up to circle her clit and back down again before sliding them into the warmth of her cunt. Her arousal was practically dripping down his fingers, and not only could he feel the effect he had on her, he could hear it, too. 

The first plunge of his fingers earned the moan that he could practically feel in his own throat. It was hot against his cheek; her face burying in her hair as he began the steady rhythm of his finger thrusts. In and out, then deeper. Emmy’s core clenched around his fingers, her wetness dripping down over his knuckles and onto the sofa below. Her body wound around his, her breath a desperate pant as he brought her closer and closer to her release with nothing more than his finder. And he would have finished her off that way, too. With just a single hand, that was until she gave an order that sounded more like a question. “Take your pants off?” 

Easing up, Barron’s fingers left her core and went straight to his pants. His own movements were rushed, almost clumsy, as he pushed his slacks down to the floor, his boxers slipping down with them. Then there was a bit of a scramble between them as he knelt back down on the couch. Hair fell into his eyes, his hands moved one place and then the next on her body as her smaller and his larger tried to fit together just right. His lips found her lips. His hands stroked the soft angles of her body, traveling down where one hand took hold of his own cock. He stroked it slowly with one hand before guiding it down into the space between her legs where his fingers once were. There his hand remained, dragging the tip of his cock up and down her entrance before his hips eased forward in the gentle pressure. Emmy gasped against his lips, Morgan fighting one of his own back down into the depths of his throat as the warmth of her core welcomed him from the tip, inch by inch with each slow and deliberate rotation, until he was buried to the hilt. 

The couch shifted with each thrust, banging into the wall with a hollow sound. Pillows and couch cushions fell or were pushed to the ground as Emmy reached out to brace herself on the surface, only to find no support. Her hands were then quick to find the strength of his back, her long nails digging in and then deeper as the couch fell from one of its legs, leaving the surface uneven and their bodies sliding. 

He felt her startled yelp in the back of his throat, one arm wrapping around her middle while the other braced their bodies against the arm of the couch. He caught them so effortlessly, his cock still buried deep in her cunt, but they couldn’t stay there. 

“Hold on to me,” he muttered to her breathlessly, and he felt Emmy’s legs coil tight around his middle. 

When he was sure she was secure, her arms grasping tight around the strength of his shoulders, Morgan stood up. He lifted up with little effort, all without his cock slipping from her core. The quick, wide-eyed glance of Emmy’s eyes betrayed her, the shock of what seemed like such a smile movement all over her features. He carried her, a smile pressed to her cheek, as he listened to her gasp and moan as she bobbed along the stiffness of his cock until he had her pinned against the bare living room wall. And he fucked her against it. 

The sturdiness of the wall was the only leverage he needed, his arms moving to hook around the underside of her thighs, as he guided her along his cock. Morgan watched her with a cocky confidence as her face softened, her head leaning back against the blank, white surface as her lips parted. He waited for the words to spill, but her feeble moans were all the met his ears as he fucked her there, feeling the first pulsing wave of her pleasure that sent her arousal dripping down the thick vein of his cock straight down to his balls. 

It left her panting, desperate for more as her hand left his shoulder to push off the wall, “bed, the bed.”

Emmy’s bedroom was down the narrow hallway, just off the bathroom. He couldn’t see it well, wasting no time to turn the lights on, but all he could see was the silhouette of her unmade bed. The duvet wrinkled and tangled with the bodies as he lay her down, his hands finding her hips to brace himself as his hips found their steady roll once more. 

He could feel the exertion overtaking his body. The sweat beading down his muscles as if he had just finished a practice on the ice, and Emmy’s body was against his. Hyper aware of every one of her movements, Barron’s head was spinning as he tossed his head back to toss the sweaty curls from his face. He was starry eyes as he felt her legs drag down the strength of his own, and gritting his teeth with each smack of his hips against hers. Then her limbs were coiling around him. Drawing him in close so she could bury her face into his neck as she moaned out the loudest she had been all night. Her lips grazed over his neck just below his ear as her core gripped around him, tight then tighter as she came undone - but Morgan couldn’t hold back himself any longer. 

One final plunge, the pressure that left his body tense, had met its peak, and he was left in a daze of pleasure that consumed him so fully it almost numbed him. Morgan’s head leaned back on his shoulders, his jaw slacked as he panted out for a desperate breath. He remained deep in her until his cock stilled, his own body quivering at the feeling of her being filled so fully by him that he could feel a mixture of them dripping down his balls. It left him a mess as he fell away from her like a flimsy ribbon, her body tired not only tired from the sex, but the entire game of hockey he had played mere hours ago. 

The exhaustion consumed him as he sprawled out on his side in the comfort of her bed. It’s soft embrace left him feel like he was melting away - completely dissociated from Emmy whose warmth he could no longer feel. He reached an arm out, searching for her blindly. And when he found her, she was crawling back into the bed after discarding her hosiery bra and panties in the garbage and on the floor. 

Her body fit into his with ease, her warmth spread over his chest and his legs and she became the little spoon to his big. His limbs consumed her, drawing her in to share the one large pillow on the bed. Morgan buried his face in her hair, his lips peppering kisses there as she tugged the duvet around their form. There he breathed in the scent of her, his heart yet to calm in the depth of his chest - his own thoughts too loud for him to find peace. 

He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Worst of all, there was a piece of him so loud in the back of his mind that screamed that he had just screwed up everything. When he started talking to Emmy, that first message he sent was of pure interest. Morgan wanted to get to know her, not hook up with her. And that all felt at risk now that he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

It left a lump in the back of his throat as he tried to hide from his thought by placing sweet kisses on the back of her neck. The physical kept him distracted from the mental - but then Emmy spoke and put it all at ease, “Do you have practice in the morning?”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, his hair becoming a mess against the pillow - and he almost jumped as the foot of the bed suddenly shifted. Then came the gentle steps of Emmy’s cat, who was only now bold enough to venture out of her hiding spot now that things had calmed. The cat made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. 

“Grab breakfast with me, then? My treat.” Emmy offered, and Morgan couldn’t suppress the soft laugh that was lost in her hair. 

Morgan’s arms coiled around her a little tighter, playfully drawing her in closer to his frame as he placed a playful nip and kiss on her bare shoulder. “I’m not letting you pay for my breakfast.”

“Fine,” she huffed so loud he could practically hear her pout in the darkness. His brow raised up, she had been quick to concede, but she he felt the wiggle of her ass against his cock teasing him. If he hadn’t taken her already, and if he had the energy, he would have fucked her again. But Morgan settled for sleep, her body perfectly pressed into his, and a smile on his lips as he heard her gentle, dreamy compromise. “It’s a date then.”

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

[rylekayner]

pls tell me more abt jets punk au 👂👁️👁️👂

Wooo yes let’s go.

Ok so i’ve got a bunch of vague unconnected thoughts hence why I’ve been making my little drawing series instead of an actual fic so this is going to be very disjointed. I don’t know how long this may end up being so I’ll put it all bellow the cut :))

Mark and Connor meet at work, Mark is a tattoo apprentice and Connor is a piercer. Initially there’s a lot of tension between them, they’re opposite sides of the same coin.

Connor is an agitator and Mark’s uptight.

Half of Mark’s personality is that he’s completely straight edge and Connor used to sell drugs in high school.

Connor is a crowd killer, Mark is Mr pit etiquette.

It comes to a head when they both end up at a house show, Connor elbows Mark right in the face (genuinely by accident but to this day Mark doesn’t full believe him) and Adam drags them out side and tells them they need to get their shit together and either fuck or fight but just get it over with. Given Connor’s reputation Mark assumes he’s about to have to start throwing punches when he’s grabbed by his collar until he realised he’s being pulled in for a kiss.

They end up actually talking things out a realise they actually do a good job of rounding out each others harsher edges. Connor aggressiveness, and Marks elitist tendencies.

They still fight even 4 years into their relationship but they understand each other now much better than pretty much anyone else.

-

The band starts with Mark on guitar and vocals, Connor on drums with back up vocals and Troubs on bass. They end up adding Josh as lead guitar after his old band breaks up (not sure of the details with this one but I want Draisaitl in there somewhere cause I like the history between Jmo and Drai).

Troubs ends up leaving the band when he gets a “real job” in New York but he introduces the rest of the guys of Kyle as their new bassist.

Kyle would never admit it but he was terrified of Helle for the first couple of months, Connor has been in Winnipeg for years at this point but his reputation from the Michigan scene still haunts him and Kyle and heard stories. It’s almost hard to reconcile this version of Connor as the same one who’d allegedly set someone backyard on fire back in Michigan.

They end up bonding over making fun of Mark and Connor’s happy to have someone to smoke with again. Mark is still straight edge just less pretentious about it and Josh will do edibles but doesn’t like smoking so it’s been a while since Connor’s hand someone who will physically smoke with him. Once Kyle gets over his fear he has a little bit of hero worship going on which makes it very easy for Connor to convince him to get up to mischief.

This is going to end with mark/Connor/Kyle if I can help it.

-

Josh is a musical prodigy, he was in a metal band previously and has a crazy amount of skill with a guitar, mark thought he was being replaced when Troubs suggested recruiting him until Josh opened his mouth and they heard his excuse for singing (even for a punk band it was shocking) but he’s got a natural inclination to music in a way none of the other quite do. Together with Connor they write a majority of the bands songs.

He had a messy break up with Drai which caused his last band to fall apart and after that he mostly just focused on music and collage (he’s getting a masters in anthropology, they all thought it was a joke when he told them) but then there’s this new bouncer at Adams bar (Adam owns a dive bar sorry this is all very disjointed) and Josh is enamoured. Spoiler alert it’s Morgan who is not at all involved in the punk scene, he’s just new to Winnipeg and needed a job and now he’s at all of the gigs the play at Adam’s and Josh won’t talk to him because “he barely looks old enough to be in here”

Uhhh I think that’s it for the moment I’m on a lot of pain meds but if you wanna know anythjng in particular please ask I’m so excited to talk about this au the more I talk about it the easier it is for me when I eventually do write it

TL;DR

Mark: Straight Edge, Sings and Plays guitar, in a long term relationship with Helle

Connor: Shit stirer, plays drums, sometimes sings, writes a lot of the songs, in a long term relationship with Mark

Kyle: Newest member of the band, plays bass primarily but can play several other instruments, has something suspiciously flirty going on with Helle and Scheif

Josh: the most traditionally talented, plays guitar, is not allowed to sing under any circumstances, helps Helle with writing, had a nasty break up with Drai a few years back is now busy making heart eyes a Bear.

Morgan: Not really involved in the scene, just works as a bouncer for a lot of the gigs the boys play. Spends a lot of time day dreaming about Josh serenading him (only because he’s never hear josh sing)

[wyattjohnston]

breaking all my rules - adam lowry

summary: jasmine's first night in winnipeg becomes one she cannot get out of her mind.

word count: 3.4k

warning: smut, do not read if you are under 18.

note: hello @cellythefloshie! this is your fic for the winter fic exchange 2k24. i very much hope you enjoy it, even if the smut isn't as filthy as you deserve <3 thank you to @offside-the-lines for pestering me when i needed it and for being my editor, and to @matthewtkachuk as always for being my sounding board.

The drink in front of Jasmine was half empty, though it would soon be finished, and she watched the screen behind the bar where the Bucks were playing the Trail Blazers even though she had to dodge the bartender’s head occasionally when it blocked the only screen she was interested in.

There was no shortage of people in the bar. Most were watching any of the seemingly million screens airing hockey, and all were intently and enthusiastically doing so. Jasmine assumed that the Jets were playing but wouldn’t put any money on that.

Jasmine lifted her drink to her mouth, the sweet taste of her strawberry daiquiri coating her tongue and sliding down her throat effortlessly. Before she was able to put it back onto the bar, almost entirely empty, a new drink was placed down in front of her.

“From Adam,” the bartender said, pointing to the table of rowdy men who weren’t far behind her.

Jasmine looked over her shoulder to see one of the men raising his hand barely off the table. Not really a wave, but enough to let her know that he was the one who had bought her the drink. She nodded at him, letting a smile transform her face. His own smile followed suit.

“He plays hockey,” the bartender revealed, as though it was the hottest piece of gossip in Winnipeg. “You should cash in on that.”

She turned back to the bartender, a wry smile forming on her face as she said, “That sounds like a fucking good reason to stay away if ever I’ve heard one.”

She was left alone to drink her new cocktail and watch her basketball game, while intermittently glancing over her shoulder back at Adam. With every look back, he seemed bigger than the last, he was noticeably the tallest out of everyone he was with, and Jasmine couldn’t help but drink him in from head to toe.

He noticed.

She didn’t know if it had always been his intention to walk over to her at that moment, but he was moving toward her regardless. Jasmine turned back to the bar but kept the stool in just the right position to know that his presence wouldn’t be unwelcome. She only knew he had reached her when she felt a heavy hand on the back of the stool, turning her towards him.

He stepped into her personal space with ease, one of his legs pressing in between hers ever so slightly. It took all her willpower to not react, to not lean forward as she so suddenly and so desperately wanted to.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his hand brushing against hers on the bar.

Jasmine smiled up at him, watching as his eyes darted back and forth between her mouth and her cleavage.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jasmine asked, “are you going to tell me that you’ll call me?”

Adam nodded easily, quickly, without any thought. “Yeah, of course.”

Her eye roll was involuntary. “Are you really going to call me?”

He laughed unabashedly at being caught out, “Probably not, no.”

“My name’s Minnie.”

“That’s not your real name.”

“It’s close enough.”

There was a silence, Adam’s hand still brushing against hers. His smile was infectious now that she was no longer actively fighting it.

“I’m Adam,” he said, lifting his hand and taking a step back, away from her, “but you knew that already.”

“I was told.”

He took her hand, guiding her off the barstool. He was already leading her out of the bar when he asked, “Your place?”

“It’s a hotel room.”

“We can go to mine then. I’m not going to a hotel room in a city where everyone knows who I am.”

Jasmine couldn’t contain her snort, “Everyone in the city? A bit arrogant, don’t you think?”

Adam was smiling and shrugging silently. It was as easy as anything to follow him out of the bar and into a cab, not worrying about the light snow that had started to fall. The cab driver instantly recognised Adam, starting a conversation about hockey that Jasmine could barely follow. Adam was sending her looks throughout the entire drive—apologetic with a lingering arrogance that Jasmine was loath to admit she found attractive.

It was worth it for one night.

The exterior of the house they pulled up to was nothing as extravagant as she’d been expecting for a professional athlete. It was undoubtedly a nice house—much nicer than anything Jasmine ever hoped to be able to afford—just less than what she’d imagined. Not that she’d been imagining much more than what it would feel like to have his hands all over her.

“Do you want anything to drink, or…?” Adam asked when they were standing inside his front door and, rather awkwardly, removing their coats.

“Why waste time?”

Reaching up to grab him by the collar of his shirt was the easiest decision Jasmine had made in a while. He was so tall, and, while it had been part of everything she’d had until that moment t, it was certainly more noticeable when he was leaning over her to press his mouth against hers.

She had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer, to give herself leverage. The shock of his hands on her thighs wrapping her legs around his waist was enough to elicit a squeal and a giggle.

He smirked against her mouth.

When he pressed her up against the wall behind her, Jasmine used it as leverage to push their bodies together while she chased his mouth and the taste of whiskey within it. His hair was the perfect length to play with, the perfect length to wrap her fingers in and tug; his own little gasp gave him away.

They were moving before Jasmine even realised, though it wasn’t for long, as Adam set her down on the staircase. Her head tilted, a silent question about what she was supposed to do next, when his hands—his very big hands—were on her waist again to spin her around. There was no missing the glint in his eyes.

The very second her back was to him, there was a playful tap on her ass that had her running up the stairs with an unexpected giggle. She heard something hit the floor and looked quickly over her shoulder to see that Adam’s sweater was gone so she pulled hers off with no thought given to making it look sexy and threw it somewhere near the top of the stairs. She had plans she did not want to delay.

His bedroom was close, his body hot behind hers as he guided her to it with his lips pressed to her neck and his hands pulling at her shirt to pull it from her jeans. When his fingertips met the skin of her stomach, the electricity that ran through her was enough for her to know the night was going to be something she would remember for a while.

Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut as Adam pulled her shirt over her head and wasted no time by removing her bra. His mouth moved up her spine, hitting spots she had never known could feel so good with such precision and eagerness that she reached behind her, clawing at his own shirt desperate for the skin-on-skin that would come with it.

Adam got the message. He kissed the nape of her neck one last time and turned her around. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, desperation filling every part of her body and only getting stronger when he effortlessly lifted her and dropped her onto the bed.

His shirt quickly disappeared, leaving Jasmine even more speechless than she already was as she scanned every inch of newly bare skin for the first time. She reached out, fingers brushing gently over his skin until she reached his belt.

Looking at Adam’s face was too much, the want in his eyes was more than she could handle, so she focused on unbuckling his belt and helping him remove his pants. The memory of his muscles clenching under her lips as she kissed the skin just about the buckle would be burnt into her brain forever, There was no time to waste, it seemed, because the second Adam’s pants were off he was pulling hers down her legs in one swift motion before he was prowling on the bed leaning over her.

The next time their mouths met, Jasmine arched off the mattress, the skin-on-skin everything she had been hoping for. It made her even more aware of him surrounding her, his aura taking up the entire room and encompassing even more of her headspace than just the feel of his mouth against hers. 

The kiss lasted nowhere near as long as she wanted, with Adam moving to start kissing down her chest, between her breasts, nipping at her skin as he went. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him as close as she could, just to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs that was only building more when he cupped her breast and his thumb brushed over her nipple so lightly she barely felt it, and yet she couldn’t feel anything else when he did it again.

He was possessed, leaving no part of her unkissed, no part of her untouched. She could see–feel—how hard he was, and she could imagine he could feel how wet she was with how close she was pulling him.

An involuntary whine left Jasmine’s mouth when Adam’s hand moved away from her breast, she instantly missed the electric shocks that ran through her every time he touched her nipple. She arched her back to chase the feeling, the sensation,, completely unable to form words, but forgot what she was aiming for when his fingers brushed the hair out of her face and his mouth drew closer to hers.

The gasp that left her was met with an appreciative grunt from Adam, as the kiss deepened and his hand moved, pushing her body back from where she’d arched up so that he could finally touch her where she so desperately wanted—needed—to be touched.

Jasmine woke first the next morning and had to forcibly extricate herself from Adam’s sleep-tight grip.

She stared into the bathroom and wondered how strange it would be to use his shower while he slept. She decided against it, if only to avoid the awkwardness of him waking and her still being there. She wanted to be gone before he had any opportunities to pretend he actually was going to call her, despite their conversation the night before. It was always easier to just leave before she had to talk.

Being careful not to rustle the bed, Jasmine inhaled deep into her stomach before she planted her feet on the floor and searched the room for her clothes. She definitely had some clothes littering his hallway—her coat and sweater were nowhere in sight—but she grabbed what she could, cradling them to her chest so that she could change in the hallway with less risk of waking him up.

The bedroom door creaked ever so slightly as she pulled it open just enough to slip through, and she held her breath when there was movement behind her. Adam didn’t rouse, though, and she relaxed enough to find the remainder of her clothes and get dressed standing in his living room.

She couldn’t help but take a look around while standing there, taking in the little things that showed he was rich—namely that nothing looked like it was falling apart. Nothing even looked second-hand. Her bank account was shrieking.

Jasmine stopped in the kitchen on her way to the front door, desperate for a glass of water. She pondered, longingly, what it must be like to cook in such a large space with appliances that looked like they’d rarely been used.

“D’ya want breakfast?”

An unholy shriek left her at the sudden interruption, and she spun around with a heaving chest and one hand still brushing over the stove. Adam hadn’t made a noise until he spoke. Unless she’d been so caught up in dreaming about her dream house that she hadn’t heard him. Both were equally as plausible.

One of his hands patted the kitchen counter loudly, and Jasmine’s attention was drawn to it, images of their night involuntarily filling her mind and making her catch her breath.

“No,” she said breathlessly. “I’m going. It was nice to—thank you for—Goodbye.”

“It was nice to. And you’re welcome. Goodbye, Minnie.”

Jasmine nodded, short and stiff, before she had to squeeze past the small space he’d left between himself and the counter. Her breathing was already laboured when his very large, very experienced hand caught her wrist.

“You should give me your number.”

Taking a moment to control herself, to remind herself that she didn’t give out her phone number to one-night stands for the express purpose of keeping them as one-night stands no matter how good said one night stand was. She gently pulled her hand out of his grip and to her side and was able to keep her resolve even if she didn’t truly want to.

Two things were true: Jasmine didn’t like repeat performances with guys she met in bars, and Jasmine could not stop thinking about Adam.

Even as she flew home to Baltimore to pack her life into a U-Haul, even as she drove 1,500 miles to Winnipeg, even as she started her new job, he was all she could think about.

It certainly didn’t help that ice hockey was slowly but surely taking over her life, as much as she had tried to prevent that from happening. She was coming to learn that the Winnipeg Jets were a religion in the city—a cult, even—and that meant seeing the face of their captain almost everywhere she looked.

As it turned out he didn’t just play hockey. If the Jets were a religion, he may well have been their God.

Their God who was, despite being everywhere, was also exactly nowhere.

“So, which one is it?” Elyse asked, her head tilted towards the group of Jets players huddled around a pool table.

“What do you mean?” Jasmine played coy; her eyes fixed squarely on Elyse.

“We’ve been to this stupid bar every weekend for two months—but only on weekends the Jets are home—and you all but stare at them the entire time we’re here. Which one do you want to take you home? Because I will go ask him for you right now so we can go anywhere else in this fucking city.”

Jasmine faltered, took a look at the group, and shook her head. “You can’t.”

“Is it one of the married ones?” asked Taylor, interjecting suddenly and very loudly from where she’d been leaning back in her chair and watching the conversation. “Because if it is, we’re definitely going somewhere else next week.”

“It’s not. You just can’t.”

Elyse and Taylor both rolled their eyes; Elyse left to get another drink and left Taylor to judge Jasmine alone.

Jasmine knew it was ridiculous to insist that they keep coming back in the hopes that Adam would return. Especially when she had put on such a show of not seeing him again. She just couldn’t work out for the life of her why he wasn’t showing up when so many of his teammates were there every weekend.

She had already decided it would be the last night; Taylor’s words just solidified it.

The conversation moved on, an easy and natural shift into complaining about clients they’d dealt with that day. Jasmine participated as much as she could while her head was still very much in Adam’s bedroom.

She didn’t even wait for a break in the conversation to tell Elyse, “We’ve been coming back because he’s never been here.”

“Huh?” Elyse mumbled into her drink.

“Adam Lowry. Walking this way,” Taylor said as she pretended to be doing anything but watching him.

Elyse’s face immediately morphed into a delighted and devious expression that Jasmine never wanted to see again, especially directed at her. The situation was undoubtedly made worse by the fact that Adam was there, that he’d finally shown up and, even more so, was allegedly walking towards her.

She braced herself for him, holding her breath as she waited. She didn’t want to give anything away to her friends, lest they use it against her, but she also couldn’t predict what Adam would say or do.

If he was even walking her way.

It really didn’t feel like he was. She had to inhale before she passed out.

“He went to the bar,” Taylor said, her eyes moving rapidly between Jasmine and the bar. “It is him, though. Isn’t it?”

Jasmine shook her head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“God, you’re a horrible liar.”

It wasn’t any use denying it. She could only imagine what her face looked like in that moment.

The girls talked around her, waiting her out as she tried to shake off the strange feeling in her stomach. Hurt? Not really. Disappointment? More likely.

She was startled when a drink was placed in front of her. A strawberry daiquiri.

“I heard you’ve been attempting to stalk me, Minnie.”

Jasmine couldn’t be certain if her cheeks paled or went red. She could, however, be certain that a shiver ran down her spine due to the cool hand that brushed against her neck before it settled on her shoulder.

“Oh, good,” Elyse beamed. “So, they did notice that we’re always here. It wasn’t for nothing.”

“You should have just given me your number when I asked,” Adam said.

Jasmine was just thankful he wasn’t responding to Elyse. Or trying to get any information he could from her. Jasmine knew she would readily give it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was watching her carefully, his hand a steady weight on her shoulder. She should have given him her number, but she already felt pathetic enough for having dragged her friends to the same bar for weeks on end in the hopes that she would see him again. From what she could tell by his expression, he didn’t seem put off by the idea even if he had called it “attempted stalking.”

Then, just before he disappeared, he asked her to find him when she was ready to leave.

Well.

Ignoring her friends at that point was useless, Elyse and Taylor had never looked so interested or so devious. They didn’t let up until Jasmine’s daiquiri was emptied and she was psyching herself up to head over to Adam; at that point, they managed to control themselves and focused on boosting her confidence. It was much needed to quell the nerves that were running through her body.

Not looking at him and his table was crucial to maintaining her nerves. She was desperate to know if he was looking at her, but if she caught him looking back she’d melt into the chair she was sitting on.

Jasmine didn’t need to be looking, though. Not when Elyse and Taylor were giving her a play-by-play of everything they were seeing.

One more daiquiri later, Jasmine made her decision. She felt good; she felt loose. Without a single word to her friends, she rose to her feet and crossed the room to Adam.

The table of men fell quiet when she got close, their silence noticeable compared to the once raucous noise. Adam was, in fact, staring right at her, and he hadn’t stopped since she started moving; Jasmine felt the weight of his attention right in her core.

She didn’t stop at the table—didn’t stop at all—just made eye contact with Adam long enough to wink before she headed straight for the door. He was standing next to her before she even stepped foot outside.

His hollering teammates echoed in her mind even with the door shut behind them.

As they stood outside in the chilly March air, she said, “Jasmine. My name’s Jasmine.”

Adam put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“Can I call you Minnie?”

“Nobody else does, really.”

“Sounds great, then. It’s just for me.” 

if you made it this far, i would very much like to hear what you thought about this fic