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chewingcyanide · 4 months

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.

Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.

Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.

It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.

It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.

But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.

“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.

You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.

You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.

“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”

“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”

You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!

No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.

Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.

Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”

“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”

An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”

You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.

To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.

And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.

“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”

Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?

Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.

“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.

“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”

Luke laughed.

And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.

You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.

“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.

You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.

Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—

The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”

You snorted. “That’s not news.”

“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”

Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.

“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.

Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.

Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.

Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”

Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”

Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”

There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.

However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.

Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.

Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?

You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.

His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.

You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.

“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”

Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.

“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”

Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”

Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”

Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”

“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.

With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.

Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.

Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.

“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.

You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?

Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.

You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”

Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.

“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”

Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”

“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.

Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?

Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.

His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”

A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”

But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.

It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.

Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.

The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.

“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.

You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.

He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.

But he wasn’t Jack.

“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”

Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”

Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”

Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.

“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.

Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”

“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”

He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”

You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.

A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”

Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”

You thought briefly of faking fainting.

“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”

Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.

Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”

Your girl.

Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?

But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”

You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.

“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”

That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.

Present you could.

“Sure,” you said.

This summer would be different.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.

You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.

The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.

Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.

“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.

You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”

That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.

“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.

“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”

You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”

Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”

It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.

You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.

“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”

You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”

“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.

Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.

You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.

“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.

When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.

It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.

You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.

“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.

The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.

Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.

A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.

“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”

Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”

Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.

You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”

You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”

Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”

You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”

More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.

“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.

You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.

You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.

Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”

You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”

Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”

Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?

The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.

Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.

The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.

Jack.

“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?

“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”

A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”

Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”

You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”

Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”

You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”

“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.

Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.

“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.

“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”

He knew very well what you meant.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”

Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”

“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”

After that, the line went dead.

Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?

Why?

Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.

“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.

It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.

“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”

A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”

You smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

10:15.

The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.

The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.

“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”

You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”

“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”

“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That son of a bitch.

Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.

You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”

Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”

“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”

You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”

Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.

Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.

What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?

The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.

You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?

Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.

“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”

Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.

“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.

Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.

You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.

“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”

Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.

“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”

Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”

That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.

You just wished that he did.

A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”

“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”

His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.

“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.

You frowned. “Yes, I am.”

Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”

You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”

Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.

Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.

Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”

He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.

You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.

Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.

All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.

Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.

“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.

The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.

Jack.

You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.

It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.

But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.

And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.

“Jackson?”

He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think—”

All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.

Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”

He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”

Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.

“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”

“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”

“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”

It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.

His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.

“Jack, please, just—”

“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”

“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.

“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”

Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”

Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.

Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.

Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”

And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”

Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”

He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”

“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”

You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”

Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”

Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.

Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”

“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”

Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.

Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.

It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.

Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.

You knew then where you stood.

“Why?”

He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”

“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”

Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?

“Bells, don’t.”

Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”

“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”

What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.

“Can’t what?”

Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”

The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”

The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.

“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.

He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”

“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.

“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”

“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.

“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”

Silence still.

“Stop the car.”

Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”

That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”

You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.

“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”

“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.

You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”

Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”

What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”

“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”

You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”

“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.

It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.

You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.

“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.

He said nothing back.

And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.

#jack hughes #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey

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stormsplurge · 1 month

Text

happy tears overflowing, lightning bolts so overwhelming

warnings: slight smut at the end, just fem receiving oral, 18+ read at your own risk

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

inspired by anime eyes by kacey musgraves <3

1192 words

a/n: this is my first time writing x reader smut and my first time writing x reader stuff in a whiiiiile so i apologize if this is rough. regardless, i hope you enjoy!

“seth.” you said, putting down the knife you were chopping vegetables with, “i can feel your eyes staring a hole in the back of my head.”

“if you want me to stop you should try being less beautiful.” he replied.

before you could open your mouth to reply, he’d made his way across the kitchen and pulled you away from the counter.

“seth!” you shrieked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into the air.

you two had been spending the last week in minnesota, spending time with burnzie’s family and enjoying the last bits of summer before you had to get back to carolina. it was through burnzie, actually, that you’d met seth. he was a frequent customer at the animal shelter you worked at, eventually becoming a volunteer, and one of your friends.

you’d organized an adoption event, trying to find some of the pets forever homes and make room for new rescues, and burnzie offered to bring his “friends” as volunteers. he’d forgotten to mention those friends were a bunch of professional hockey players.

seth had immediately caught your eye. his gap-toothed smile and infectious laughter, but also the edges of his shoulder tattoo peeking out from the edge of his t-shirt sleeves. everything about him was drawing you in, by the time he’d brought you adoption papers to sign off on you knew he’d had you.

“you’re adopting lulu?” you questioned, petting the gorgeous pitbull puppy in his arms.

“if it’s okay.” he responded, focusing his eyes away from the dog and looking into yours for approval.

“of course it’s okay” you said, “i’m so glad she’s finding her forever home. she’s been in the shelter for forever.”

“do you think i could get your number?” he quickly replied, before adding a “so i can text you if i have any questions about, yknow, lulu.”

“jarvis.” you chirped. “if you wanted my number you could have just asked, you didn’t need to adopt a puppy.”

“i know… but lulu was looking at me with her sad puppy dog eyes i couldn’t just leave her here.”

oh god, you thought. i’m fucked.

——

seth asked you out not even a week later.

he’d managed to get his hands on your work schedule and sent a flower every hour, all eight hours you were all at work. at first it was a daisy, with a note attached with only the word “go” you on it. next came a lily, with a note saying “out”. eventually leaving you with eight different flowers spelling out “go out with me please, love seth.” and a mystery address attached to the final one.

everything about the date was perfect, he’d found a secluded park where you wouldn’t be bothered by anybody and set up a picnic. every snack you’d offhandedly mentioned while you two had been texting, all of your favorite foods, everything you could think of was laid out on the blanket.

“oh seth…” you marveled. “you didn’t have to do this all for me.”

“of course i did.” he said, matter of factly. “my mom raised me to never half-ass anything, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman.”

“how’d you even think of this.”

“well burnzie mentioned that you’d been stressed out at work, and aho told me his girlfriend thinks this park is really romantic. so, yeah.”

“i love it.” you said, placing your hand on top of his, where it sat resting on his thigh. “thank you.”

——

from there the rest was history, the last year you’d spent with seth had been some of the best of your life. every minute of your day was filled with love, from lulu’s morning kisses to the daily texts you would get from jarvy as soon as practice was over. everything about it was perfect.

“seth.” you said as he gently placed you on the counter. “i love you.”

“i know.” he mused, tilting your chin up and placing a kiss on your lips.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here.” you whispered as his lips trailed over your jaw and onto your neck. “anyone could walk in at any second.”

“they wont be back for another couple of hours, i promise.” he replied as he placed his hands under your thighs and picked you up. you looped your arms around his neck, letting him carry you into the guestroom.

the kisses were unrelenting at this point. your neck, your collarbones, the spot above your belly button. slowly making his way down to the edge of your shorts.

“can i?” he asked, waiting for a yes to leave your lips before hooking his finger under the waistband and pulling the fabric down. the energy in the room had quickly turned from comforting to intense, seth’s eyes focusing exclusively on you.

“you are so beautiful.” he breathes out between kisses, letting the stubble on his cheeks scratch against your inner thighs.

“you don’t have to keep saying that.” you reply as he brings his tongue to your pussy.

seth aproached sex the same way he did hockey. making every second count, every move having an end goal. on the ice this meant helping his team and scoring goals, and in the bedroom it meant making sure you always felt good.

you moaned his name as he inched his middle finger farther into you, bringing your hands to his hair and wrapping your fingers in the slight curls that formed at the nape of his neck.

“you should, ah-, shave the sides again.” you whined, twitching with every slight movement he made.

“bring back the mullet?” he chuckled, pushing his ring finger in as he spoke. “what about racing stripes should i do those too?”

a yes slipped out of your lips, followed quickly by seth pumping his fingers in and out of you at a desperate pace. his mouth made it’s way to your core as you felt yourself begin to unravel, rapidly reaching your peak.

“seth.” you moaned, throwing your head back. “i’m so close.”

“i know baby, you’re doing so good for me.”

you were seeing stars, forgetting that you were in someone else’s house, panting and moaning and whining as loud as you could. the pressure in-between your legs growing until you couldn’t take it anymore, coming with seths name on your lips and his head in between your legs.

he was grinning at you from the edge of the bed, already back to his giggly self.

“i love you so much.” he said, making his way up the bed and tucking your hair between your ear.

you shushed him as you brought your hands to his cheeks and pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. if it were any other day you’d happily go for another round, but the sun was getting to you so you just rolled seth onto his side and burrowed yourself in his chest. the smell of sweat and deodorant pulling you into him. as you felt your eyes begin to grow heavier you felt him drape a blanket over the two of you.

“i love you too.”

#seth jarvis #carolina hurricanes #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #caroline hurricanes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #carolina hurricanes fic #seth jarvis fic

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sailor-aviator · 2 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Content Warnings: Panic attack, Mentions of dog attack, Tense Daggers, Arguing, Skipper sneaking away, Cursing, Monster appearance, Crying, Begging, Murder confessions, Execution, Gunshot, Descriptions of blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

When you were little, your grandmother had a dog. It was a sweet thing, always eager for pets and treats. You always liked that dog, but the dog tended to be a bit skittish.

You remember walking into your grandmother’s living room one day, no older than five at the time, and seeing the dog - Mitzi you think her name was. You had walked up to her, paying no mind to the fact that she was sleeping, and you stuck your little face by her to greet her. You hadn’t meant any ill by it, but the dog had snapped at you anyway, drawing blood and a screech from your tiny lips. Your parents and grandmother had come running into the room, finding you in tears and Mitzi trying to console you.

Of course, you knew that it hadn’t been the dog’s fault, but it didn’t stop you from shying away from her every time you saw her after that, afraid of the teeth of the otherwise sweet as could be creature that always happily greeted you.

Now you stood on the boardwalk, the ringing in your ears drowning out the laughter and chatter around you, sending you spiraling into a panic as you came to terms with what had just happened. You knew that it hadn’t just been Mandy or Jake to sing to you, but you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, sure that Mandy had been the one to kill the others.

After all, she had tried to kill you.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as your body went into panic mode, your fingers and toes growing numb as you continued to stare after the space where Cole just stood. He had been the one to tear Mandy apart, but why? To protect you? Why had he killed those other girls then?

In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had he been trying to claim them? Is that why he had been singing to you? To drag you beneath the waves of the ocean as well? Your head whipped around to the darkening blue just passed the rails of the boardwalk, the thunderous sound of the waves crashing against the shore sounding more ominous with each passing moment.

Skipper.

Your breathing picked up once more, your hands shaking as you froze, vision becoming pin points as you fought to remain standing, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Skipper!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a terrified shriek, drawing the attention of several people around you. You whipped back around, tears in your eyes as they met familiar blue.

“Skipper,” Bob murmured, brow furrowing as he took in your trembling form. “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Jake?”

Your eyes darted around the crowd, several people glancing over at you with hushed whispers and concerned looks. You let out a choked sob as you finally realized that you were safe. For the moment anyway.

“Bob,” you whimpered, a breeze alerting you to the fact that your tears had long since spilled over. Your bottom lip trembled as the tension finally broke, and you threw yourself in his arms, sobs wracking your body as he held you.

“Skipper, what happened?” He asked again, firmer this time as he ran a comforting hand over your back.

“It was Cole,” you managed to get out, pulling away to look at him, shaking your head frantically. “It wasn’t Mandy. At least, not all those other girls. He dragged them down and something happened, and-”

“Honey, slow down,” Bob said, gripping your shoulders and leaning down to look you in your eyes. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, following his lead as he took in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a beat, and then letting it out through his mouth. He had you repeat the process a couple more times until you stopped shaking, some clarity returning to you.

“Okay, good,” he smiled, rubbing your arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I ran into Cole,” you started again, “except that I didn’t know it was him at first.”

You stopped, pursing your lips as you stared at your best friend.

“Bob, he sang to me.”

“He sang to you?” Bob balked, eyes growing wide as he looked around. “Where is he now? Has he been singing to you this whole time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking his hand. “This whole time we thought it was just Mandy, but Bob, it was him too. He’s been calling to me since I ran into him that day at the tilt-o-whirl. He’s the one that’s been killing all of the girls.”

“Why would he do that?” He asked, more to himself than to you. You gripped onto Bob’s forearms, drawing his attention back towards you.

“It’s his frenzy,” you murmured, the pieces clicking together the more you thought about it. “Jake told me that the longer a sea person goes without taking a mate, the more dangerous the process becomes. The frenzy causes sea people to lose their control right?”

“Right,” Bob answered hesitantly, the wheels in his head turning as you continued on with your theory.

“He’s losing control, Bob,” you breathed, looking past him and back towards the water. “He doesn’t have a mate, and he’s trying to take one, but he keeps losing control and killing them. He’s going to keep going until he finds someone to be his mate.”

“Not someone, Skipper,” Bob frowned, worry shining bright in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You.”

“What?” You blinked, confusion sweeping over you.

“He’s been calling for you, Skipper. Ever since he laid eyes on you, it’s been you that he wants. He’s not going after anyone else,” he hissed, hand grabbing your forearm and scanning the crowd wildly. “We need to find Jake and the others. Come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he started dragging you through the crowd, the both of you searching wildly for your friends.

“There!” You shouted at him, pointing to your right towards the haunted house attraction. You saw Bob let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the crowd with you in tow to stand before your friends.

“Hey!” Nat chirped, smile dropping when she saw the two of you looking worse for wear.

“Woah,” Reuben said with a whistle. “What’s up with the two of you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Which can’t be because we haven’t even gone through the haunted house yet,” Mickey grinned, pointing at the building behind him. Nat rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the two of you.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes searching yours. “Where’s Jake?”

Before you could answer, a hand came up to tug you away from Bob, the bespectacled man moving to protest until he saw who it was, relaxing only a fraction.

“There you are,” Jake drawled, placing a kiss to your temple. “You disappeared on me.”

You looked up at him, and his demeanor instantly shifted from easygoing to alert.

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes glancing at your friends.

“We were just about to get there when you interrupted,” Nat scowled, hands on her hips as she glared at the blond. Jake muttered something under his breath but turned his attention back to you expectantly.

“Skipper is in danger,” Bob said, eyes hard and serious as the words left him. Jake stiffened next to you, the sound of a low growl emanating from his imposing frame.

“What do you mean she’s in danger?” He hissed, green eyes narrowing at your best friend. You turned to face him fully, hands grasping his tightly so that he looked at you.

“It’s Cole,” you breathed, “he’s been singing to me. He’s been singing to me this whole time, and we all just thought it was Mandy. It’s his frenzy, Jake. He’s losing control.”

You cursed internally at the way your voice cracked at the end, emotion overtaking you. You thought about Jake and how close he was to being in the same position as Cole. Even now, you could see how desperately he was clinging onto his control, the greens of his eyes glowing at the very thought that you might be taken from him. You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his attention back to the surface and away from the depths of his inward spiral. He blinked at you, confusion warring with desperation as you stared at him.

An unspoken message passed between the two of you, and Jake let out a long sigh, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” Nat snapped, glaring at Bradley as he leaned back on the couch, tossing his hands up in defeat.

“If you’ve got a better one, I’d love to hear it,” he growled back.

All of you were seated around Jake and Bradley’s living room, a common spot for you all to gather these days. You wished it was under different circumstances, but it seemed that you were once again the center of discussion.

“We could just leave?” Bob suggested, arms crossed over his chest where he sat perched on the end of the coffee table. A low growl ripped through the form beneath you, and you squeezed the arms wrapped around your waist.

Jake had been reluctant to let you go or out of his sight once he knew you were in danger, insisting on your current position once you all had made it back to the house.

Jake didn’t look at you, but squeezed you tighter to him as he fixed your best friend with a warning glare. No one was taking you away from him.

“That might not be a bad idea,” Reuben muttered, eyes darting up to look at you. You could feel the anger radiating off of your boyfriend, sighing as Reuben averted his gaze once more.

“We know you don’t like the idea,” Nat started, running a hand over her face as she stared at the blond, “but we’re running out of options here, Jake. She’ll be safest away from here.”

“One of us will be with her at all time,” Mickey offered, flinching at the snarl that tore through Jake. Your brow furrowed as you looked around at your friends.

“I’m missing something,” you said after a beat of silence. “Why are you acting like Jake can’t come with me? What am I missing?”

Everyone avoided your gaze before Bradley rolled his eyes.

“He can’t come with you,” he groused, shooting annoyed looks at all of his friends, “because his frenzy is about to reach its peak, and the ocean is the only place where he can go to release some of that energy without hurting anyone. If he leaves with you, it’s a recipe for disaster and we all risk exposure.”

The room was silent once again as he finished his explanation. Your eyes darted around to each of them, waiting for someone to contradict him. When no one did, you let out a sigh. You knew the goal was to keep you safe, but the thought of leaving Jake behind filled your mouth with a bitter taste, and you knew that leaving wasn’t an option.

“He’s right.”

You jumped, turning as much as you could to look at Jake. A solemn expression sat on his face, eyes pensive before locking on yours. You couldn’t help the stab of betrayal that washed over you, and it was obvious that he noticed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, “but if it’s the only way to keep you safe until this passes, then so be it.”

“But what about you?” You implored, feeling the tears kiss the back of your eyes once more. “You shouldn’t have to go through all this alone. I can stay and-”

“Not an option,” he whispered, a wry, humorless smile tugging on his lips. “I need you safe more than I need you here. Don’t you worry about me, angelfish. I’ll be just fine.”

He grazed his nose against yours, breathing you in for a second before pulling away and fixing your friends with a hard stare.

“She’ll need to go inland.”

And with that, they began to discuss plans to take you away from North Island. A feeling of unease and restlessness filled you. How could they expect you to just up and leave? Did you really get no say in what happened? No. Jake might be okay with this, but you weren’t.

While your friends planned, you began to form a scheme of your own.

An hour passed, and you moved to stand, Jake’s arms stopping you as you let out a huff.

“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes immediately glaring at the front door as he listened for any sign of danger.

“To the bathroom,” you scowled. “I think I can do that by myself, don’t you?”

Jake gave you a sheepish look before helping you to your feet, hands on your waist to steady you as you stood in between his legs. The two of you stayed like that, his hands on you as you cupped his jaw in yours.

“I love you,” you said, never breaking eye contact. Jake’s breath hitched at your words, eyes shining as he studied you. He reached up to grab your hand, turning his face into it as he kissed your palm once, twice.

“I love you too,” he smiled, meeting your eyes once more. Your heart swelled before a wave of guilt washed over you, and Jake must have sensed the change because his smile dropped and his brow furrowed. He moved to say something, but you stopped him with a kiss to his forehead.

You pulled away from him, moving down the hall like you were going to use the restroom. The voices in the living room faded slightly, and you paused just out of sight. You waited for a moment before your gaze shifted from the light pouring into the hall to the dimming light filtering through the back door. As quietly as you could, you opened the screen door, slipping out onto the porch and into the night.

You weren’t sure where to go, but you knew you needed to be far away from other people. So you walked the length of the beach, coming to a rocky inlet that was sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. The waves crashed gently against the shore, coaxing you to step closer.

You made a seat out of one of the flat rocks along the shoreline, crossing your legs as well as you could in the dress you still wore. You wished you could have changed, but the group had been in such a hurry to get you away and to somewhere safe, that a change of clothes had fallen by the wayside.

Now here you sat, watching the sun dip below the shoreline, the raucous from the festival still heard even this far out. Still, you waited on the rocks even as the cold seeped through your dress and to your bones, sending a shiver up your spine. The air was calm and unassuming, a stray gull crying out overhead.

“I know you’re out there!” You hollered, watching the waves as they lapped against one another. “I know you’re looking for me too. I’m right here, Cole! Come and find me.”

You waited, still watching the water for any sign of a disturbance. Minutes passed, and you knew the others had discovered your disappearance by now. Another pang of guilt rocked through you, but you remained where you were. After a moment, you stood, stepping back onto the sand and facing the water. With a determined breath, you stepped forward. Then again. And again, until finally you came right to where the water stopped.

“If you won’t come to me,” you shouted, eyes flickering across the waves as the sky around you grew darker, “then I guess I’ll just have to come to you.”

You took a step into the water, feet sinking further into the sand as you shuffled through. Stopping again once the water reached your knees, you looked around for any sign of life. It wasn’t until your third sweep that you spotted him, and your heart stopped.

Cole’s eyes glowed an inhuman green, unblinking as they stared at you. Everything from his nose downwards was hidden beneath the water, but you saw him. It unnerved you how he didn’t move, simply content in that moment to watch you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you called, hoping you could be heard over the crash of the waves against the rocks. A wave crashed against you, sending you teetering back a little bit as you lost your balance. You stretched your arms out to steady yourself, looking down to frown at the water around you. Looking back up, Cole was gone and your heart dropped. It was only a moment though before he resurfaced, just a foot or two away from you this time, and your heart nearly lept out of your chest at the sight of him.

He looked even worse this close up, olive skin looking pale and shrunken as he stood in the water to face you. The pupils in his eyes were almost slits at this point, and you could see the webbed claws of his hands resting on the surface of the water. He looked like the stuff out of nightmares.

“Cole?” You questioned, unsure if he would even recognize you in his current state. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to contemplate you with a series of clicks that didn’t sound unlike something a dolphin would make. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, continuing, “Why don’t we go back to the beach, huh? We can talk there?”

He stayed silent, still watching as you retreated to the beach, keeping your eyes on him as you moved. Finally, he followed after you, moving like something out of one of those b-grade horror movies Bob made you watch sophomore year.

You let out a small sigh of relief as your feet finally left the water, placing you back on dry land. You retreated a couple more steps until Cole stood in the surf, the two of you only three feet apart now.

“You didn’t mean to hurt those girls, right?” You asked softly, and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes before turning into something akin to sorrow.

“Wanted…a mate.”

The change in his voice startled you as well. It was a mixture of a gurgle and a rasp, once again highlighting how inhuman the man before you had become.

“I know,” you murmured, tears stinging at your eyes. “It’s your frenzy, right? It’s making you lose control.”

“Frenzy,” he hissed out, cocking his head to the side once more as he regarded you. Something flickered in his eyes, and he took a step towards you, sending you two steps back. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as he sneered at you, and you caught a glimpse of his teeth. Teeth that just earlier that evening were normal - human. Now, they were serrated and sharp like a shark’s. You dared to scan the rest of him now that he was completely out of the water, and you noticed now that slits had opened up along the column of his throat. Gills.

“Is this what happens when you don’t take a mate?” You asked him, heart clenching in your chest. “You don’t just lose yourself, huh? You become something you were never meant to be.”

“Skipper,” he said, voice ringing out as he used his song, and a wave of dizziness ran through you, hitting you like a brick wall. You fought against it, shaking your head and clamping your hands over your ears as he went on.

“Need you, Skipper. Come away with me.”

You shook your head again, willing yourself to stay put, but his song that close? It was almost impossible to resist.

“Please.”

Your hands fell to your sides as you quickly lost the battle for your senses, gaze fogging over as you gave in. You took all of one step towards him before the sound of a snarl mixed with what sounded like the call of a whale rang out.

Hands ripped you back before slashing towards Cole, drawing out a pained cry from the man as he fell to the sand, a snarl twisting his lips as he glared up at the person that stood between you and him.

Jake’s eyes glowed a richer green than Cole’s, fury so clear on his face that it almost distracted you from where his pupils were now drawn into slits of their own. His teeth were bared against Cole, hand raised to claw at him again should he move.

“Mine,” Jake growled, the rumble coming from deep within him as he stood over the other man. Cole’s eyes darted to yours, and your heart broke at what you saw.

For a moment, the man you knew before shone through, tears lining his eyes as he looked at you desperately, pleading with you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on Jake’s arm, pushing it out of your way as you moved to kneel down beside Cole.

“Skipper.”

You turned to see Bob and Bradley standing a few feet back, the two FBI agents standing next to them. The older of the two had a grim, sorrowful expression on his face as he watched Cole and the younger looked like he was still coming to terms with what was happening before him. Bob looked like he was about to rip you up from the ground himself while Bradley watched you with an unreadable expression on his face. You gave the two of them a reassuring smile as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you.

Slowly, gently, you cupped his face in your hands so that he looked at you, and for a moment you were reminded of your grandmother’s dog. A sweet thing, but perhaps not meant to be around other people.

Tears flowed freely down Cole’s cheeks as he watched you, the man you knew resurfacing once more. You stroked your thumbs carefully over the apples of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. A sob wracked through him as he closed his eyes, face pinched in pain. You wrapped your arms around him then, holding him to you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, quietly at first. His shoulders shook as he began to cry harder, his voice raising in pitch as he continued. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted the pain to stop, and I-I-I didn’t mean to wait this long. I thought I had more time! I thought that I could pick a mate, but every time I tried to bond with them, it went wrong!”

His tears soaked through the fabric of your dress now, and you were only vaguely aware of the tears that streamed down your own face.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he whispered, clinging to you.

“I know,” you whispered back, nodding against the top of his head.

“Make the pain go away.”

“Cole,” you trailed off, looking helplessly at the men around you. He shook his head, pulling away from you.

“Not like that,” he rasped, the look in his eyes growing farther and farther away, and you knew that the moment of lucidness was coming to an end. “It’s too late for that now. There’s only one way out for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you moved to argue, but he shook his head.

“I’ll do it.”

You turned to see the older of the two FBI agents, Kazansky if you remembered right, stepping forward to stand beside Cole. You hesitated, looking down at the man in your arms. He gave you a reassuring nod, letting you go as Jake helped you to your feet. The blond pulled you back to stand with the others and you watched as Cole readjusted himself to kneel with his back straight. Kazansky moved to stand behind him, pulling out his service weapon and aiming. A shudder ran through Cole as the monster within came crawling back to the surface, his eyes darting to you.

“I’m sorry,” he sang out, claws digging into the sand. “Please.”

The shot rang out, and you let out a startled cry as Cole’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, crashing with a deafened thump. Your hand flew to your mouth as you stared, watching his blood soak the sand around him and turning it a sickening maroon.

Kazansky holstered his weapon, glancing up at your little group with a purse of his lips as his partner, Simpson, walked cautiously over to him.

“Kerner is going to be pissed when he hears about this. He loves crazy shit,” the younger man muttered. Kazansky scowled at him before turning his attention back towards the four of you.

“You kids should get out of here,” he grunted. “Somebody was bound to hear that shot and call someone. You don’t want to be here when the cavalry shows up.”

“What are you going to say happened?” Bradley asked, eyeing Cole’s corpse. Kazansky shook his head with a sigh.

“You let us worry about that,” he replied. “Now get.”

The boys didn’t wait to be told a third time, moving to leave, but you stayed rooted on the spot. It felt wrong to leave Cole there, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the man who wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a bid to steer you away.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him, Angel,” he murmured, thumb stroking over the skin of your arm as he pulled you along gently.

“That could have been you,” you whispered, and he froze. It was true. Jake was nearing the the point of no return with his own frenzies. He knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. His hand came up to cup your cheek and you finally looked up at him. His eyes swam with an indiscernible emotion has he studied you.

“It’s not,” he told you quietly, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It won’t be.”

The promise between you two was a silent one, but one that you accepted, finally allowing Jake to pull you along to catch up with the others as police sirens sounded off in the distance.

The weeks of danger, terror, and uncertainty were finally over and behind you.

A/N: Only one chapter left! How exciting!! Anyway, gentle reminder that if you would like to receive updates on my stories or other content I create to follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time! Happy Valentine's Day!!

#mmats #meet me at the sea #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

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huggybearhughes43 · 2 months

Text

Call me?

John Marino x Fem!reader

Summary- John is away for a hockey game against the canes and all he wants to do when he gets back to his hotel room is to call you, his best friend.

Warnings- smut, phone sex, masturbation (m), dirty names, Johnnys sharing a room with someone (😇), itty bitty daddy kink

Words- 1.1k

John had been so busy with his schedule with the NJ Devils that he almost never had time to spend with me. Us two had been best friends since High school then Harvard and were pretty much inseparable since then. Even his twin brother, Paul, considered me family. Today was no different for his lack of time for me. He traveled to Raleigh, North Carolina for a game against the canes. Growing up, I always watched the Canes because that was my family's team but now that I’m so close with John, Itend to only watch the teams that he’s currently on. First the Oilers, then Penguins, and now the Devils.

Even though I am seven hours away from him at the moment I still turned the game on the tv and watched for John. The game was insanely tight and nerve wracking, going into overtime still 0-0, I knew John would be upset. What made it even worse was the winning goal, the winning goal that the opposing team got. The buzzer going off and sirens going off to let everyone know that the Canes won. I sigh softly and turn off the tv. I pick up my phone and text John to call me when he’s back at the hotel.

I go about my night, laying down for bed, scrolling through my phone in the darkness as I wait for my best friend to call me. I turn on a movie and in about fifteen minutes I hear my phone ring softly. I pause the tv and pick up my phone, my face being softly illuminated by the tv. John looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower, presumably in the bathroom with water dripping out of his curly hair.

I spoke up first, already knowing how he felt about the game. “Johnny” I smile softly, “I watched the game. You played so well.”. He laughs and shakes his hair then runs his hand through it. He sits his phone on the counter and I become aware that he’s shirtless and just has a towel around his waist. I’m suddenly so glad my face is barely lit up, I knew he couldn't see my face change to a softer red color. “Didn’t play good enough.” he sighs then looks in the mirror, looking disappointed but then he looks at the phone and grabs it, walking out of the bathroom.

“How was your day, y/n?” he asks in a hush whisper. His face could no longer be seen on facetime, only a dark screen. I just assumed the player he was bunnking with had already gone to bed and he didn’t want to disturb them. I smile softly and start off from the beginning, like John always told me to do. He always wanted to know every detail, boring, exciting, he always wanted to know if I met anyone new or if I saw a pretty sunset. He especially loved hearing about my days when he was away for a game.

“Nothing much, same old same old.” I start off, “I got coffee this morning then went straight to work…” I think for a moment. “Kinley”, my work best friend, “introduced me to her new boyfriend. He was okay I guess, she’s had worse. I got off of work early and went out to eat with my mom at this fancy restaurant down by the coastline.” I smile at the memory, “It was freezing.” I trail off. “I ate those leftovers for dinner and I watched the first two Twilight movies… I’m on the third one now.” I laugh softly. I realize that Johnny has gone quiet but he’s ever this quiet when I talk about my days, he normally comments all through it.

“Why’d you stop talking?” He asks in a light, breathy voice. I knew something was up and I rolled my eyes. “Thought you got bored of my day.” I smile. “No. K-keep talking.” he tells you and you raise your brows. “I- um, well I mean I watched the game but other than that I didn’t do anything else. You did play well, Though.” “Yeah?” he asks breathlessly. “Yeah.” I responded, “You looked good in that fight too.” I tease and laugh softly. I hear what sounds like a whimper come from his end of the call. “You okay, Johnny?” no response, seconds later he lets out a soft groan. “Johnny?” “Keep talking” he nearly moans out, “Please?”. I finally realize what he’s doing.

“You could’ve just told me”. Me and John never dated but we were each other's first everything. First kiss, first smoking buddy, first fuck, basically first everything that counts. I sigh and lay back down on my bed. “I could’ve sent you something to help you” I say confidently. “Fuck, y/n… you can’t just make empty promises like that.” He moans, then bites his lip so his roommate doesn’t wake up. “It wasn’t empty… still need help?” “y/n, baby, please be a good girl and help me.” He bites back another moan. “Yes, sir” I say jokingly and set my phone down and pull off my shirt swiftly. I lay back on the bed again but this time I angle the camera so I can show off my bare breasts this time. “Better?” I ask innocently.

He moans out a ‘fuck’ and groans softly. “y/n, baby, I wish I were there to mark those pretty little tits, to cum on them… such a good girl f’me, hm? Like being a good girl for daddy?”. I smirk mischievously, he hasn’t said anything like that since college and it made a pool of wetness form in my panties. “Love being a good girl for you daddy.” I keep my smirk as I move my hand up and squeeze one of my tits, pinching the nipple and rolling it in my finger. “Fuck Johnny,” I whimper, “miss you s’much, wish it were you here doing this f’me.” I slur my words and my lips form into a soft smile as I hear a raspy groan from his end and I knew he was close. “Come on, daddy,” I egg him on, “Cum f’me, pretend you’re cumming in me… god, I wish you were.” I bite my lip and look straight into the camera.

The flash suddenly comes on his camera, and I get a clear view of his abs twitching as he cums all over his stomach. “Made me make a mess” He huffs teasingly. I laugh softly and readjust the camera as I put my shirt back on then I bring it back to my face as it was at the beginning of the call. “Johnny, baby, get some rest. You gotta travel all the way to Seattle tomorrow.”. He groans in protest, “What about you? There’s no way you aren’t horny right now.” “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me when you come home for the game against the kings, hm?”

Yall, I kinda ate this one up

#smut #john marino smut #hockey smut #nhl #new jersey devils #pittsburgh penguins #Edmonton oilers

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bradshawssugarbaby · 3 months

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it's butterflies and bud lights, under the stars and on the stripes of a beach towel in a spring break town

oneshots

Call Me When You Get Home -> You and Jake have an interesting dynamic, but one thing's for sure. You always call each other when you get home.

Illicit Affairs & Clandestine Meetings ✿ -> Hookups with Jake are never easy. They're messy, they're chaotic, they're just what you need.

Silent Night, Joyful Hearts -> When Jake came home for the holidays, the last thing he was expecting was seeing you at his nephew's nativity play.

Home for Christmas -> Jenna and Jake were the best of friends, always spending time together from the moment they met. Reuniting at the holidays for the first time in years, sparks are still flying.

Cowboy Casanova ✿ -> Jake always refers to himself as a cowboy. Today, you've decided to test just how far that goes.

She's So High -> Jake Seresin doesn't date. He doesn't get flustered, and he doesn't lose his cool. That is, until he starts playing weekend baseball games with you.

Heads Carolina, Tails California -> When you and your friends hear Jake Seresin's beach football mixtape, you can't help but join in the game. Friends ✿ -> You and Jake keep blurring the lines of friendship, until finally, Jake draws a line in the sand.

Blue Skies and Green Eyes -> Taking your niece and nephew to the air show in Coronado is tradition. When the kids catch the attention of Lieutenant Jake Seresin, he's more than happy to talk to them about flying.

God, Your Mama and Me -> Coronado's picturesque beaches have been a special, integral part of your relationship with Jake, and they're about to become a whole lot more important.

Beer Never Broke My Heart -> Jake's never been lucky in love, and as a result of past failures and heartbreaks, he's resolved to not fall in love anymore. That is, until he meets one of Bob's friends.

Urban Cowboy ✿ -> Maverick's introduced you to just about everyone on the squad. After a few failed dates with Bradley, and awkwardly not hitting it off with Bob or Reuben, you're reluctant to meet the last member, Jake. Jake, however, doesn't give up easily. Got My Mind Set On You -> Jake's competitive edge drives everyone nuts. When you and Bradley are paired together for a game of pool, Bradley hatches an idea for you to distract Jake, but, it works just a little too well.

Just What I Needed ✿ -> After distracting Jake in the bar all night and costing him the win over Bradley, he's ready to get even.

minors dni. | anything ✿ contains smut/sexual themes.

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gaysails · 1 year

Text

"When the first contingents of U.S. troops were being sent to Saudi Arabia, in August of 1990, Corporal Jeff Paterson, a twenty-two-year-old Marine stationed in Hawaii, sat down on the runway of the airfield and refused to board a plane bound for Saudi Arabia. He asked to be discharged from the Marine Corps:

'I have come to believe that there are no justified wars. . . . I began to question exactly what I was doing in the Marine Corps about the time I began to read about history. I began to read up on America's support for the murderous regimes of Guatemala, Iran under the Shah, and El Salvador. . . . I object to the use of military force against any people, anywhere, any time.'

Fourteen Marine Corps reservists at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, filed for conscientious objector status, despite the prospect of a court-martial for desertion. A lance corporal in the Marines, Erik Larsen, issued a statement:

'I declare myself a conscientious objector. Here is my sea bag full of personal gear. Here is my gas mask. I no longer need them. I am no longer a Marine. . . . It, to me, is embarrassing to fight for a way of life in which basic human needs, like a place to sleep, one hot meal a day and some medical attention, cannot even be met in our nation's capital.'

. . . When President Bush attacked Iraq in 1991, claiming that he was acting to end the Iraqi occupation of Kuwait, a group of Native Americans in Oregon distributed a biting and ironic 'open letter':

'Dear President Bush. Please send your assistance in freeing our small nation from occupation. This foreign force occupied our lands to steal our rich resources. They used biological warfare and deceit, killing thousands of elders, children and women in the process. As they overwhelmed our land, they deposed our leaders and people of our own government, and in its place, they installed their own government systems that yet today control our daily lives in many ways. As in your own words, the occupation and overthrow of one small nation . . . is one too many. Sincerely, An American Indian.'"

-Howard Zinn, A People's History of the United States

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sweetestdesire · 10 months

Text

THE ICE BREAKER — P.3

WARNINGS: mentions of heavy angst content, degrading speech, mentions of anxiety, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): NHL hockey player!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Rafe Cameron and Fem!Reader’s first date doesn't exactly go as planned.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope you angels enjoy part 3 for The Ice Breaker series! You can find the series masterlist here.

Rafe should’ve known he'd have to face all sorts of questions and teasing from his teammates when he arrived at practice a little while later. Last night when he'd pulled Y/N away from the group, it hadn't occurred to him that four of his fellow Hurricanes had been watching him do it. By the time Rafe reached the locker room, the entire team knew about it and he was subjected to all manner of good-natured ribbing.

"I'd have never pegged you as that type of guy.” Jordan commented with a sly smile as they geared up for practice.

"What type?" Rafe gave him a patient smile.

"The guy who takes a girl home after he's just met her."

Rafe looked over at the other man with raised eyebrows. Jordan had that same knowing expression on his face and Rafe sighed. "Maybe not, but I like Y/N. We got along."

"I think it's great.” Brent chimed in from Rafe’s other side. "You haven't dated anyone since you first started playing here."

Rafe nodded, recalling the relationship that had ended not long after he'd started playing for the Hurricanes. She'd tried living with him in North Carolina, but found she missed her hometown too much. They'd parted on friendly terms and the last he'd heard, she'd married the previous summer.

"Dated?" Jordan repeated. "Who said anything about dating? You took her home for the one night, didn't you?"

Rafe laughed and shook his head. "If that's what you want to believe, Staal."

"Cameron, I was talking to her friend, Maria last night and she was telling me about Y/N.” Jordan said, turning to face Rafe as he spoke.

"So?" Rafe asked with a frown. He liked Jordan, as he was constantly reminding himself, but sometimes his teammate could be as subtle as a raging bull.

Jordan shrugged carelessly, as if he wasn't interfering where it wasn't wanted. "Maria said Y/N does this a lot."

"Does what?" Now Rafe was starting to get ticked off. He was vaguely aware that Brent was moving closer on his other side, as if he was going to be needed to break up a fight.

"She's had a few one-night stands.” Jordan told him.

Rafe stared at him, trying to process his words. Should he care? He hadn't exactly been an innocent before meeting Y/N and taking her home last night. He glared at Jordan. "So what? So have I."

Brent snorted and Rafe whipped his head around to glare at him. "What? I have!"

"This isn't a competition, man.” Brent replied, holding his hands up in placation.

"No, it isn't. Thanks for your concern, but you don't need to worry."

It was ridiculous to worry anyway, since Y/N had willingly given him her number. She wouldn't have done that if she'd intended on it being just a one time deal. It occurred to him then that she hadn't asked for his, or even offered her own, but he tried to push the thought away.

We like each other, he reminded himself. They had connected last night, in more ways than one. In between enjoying each other's bodies, they'd talked and laughed and eventually slept. He wasn't so jaded that he couldn't see the potential for something more there.

Practice started in a few more minutes and Rafe pushed it out of his mind. He skated out for warm-ups and focused on everything the coaches went over. He smiled and nodded at more teasing from his teammates and all but ignored Jordan, who seemed put out by Rafe’s attitude.

Rafe would call Y/N later when he was home and they'd go out on a proper date. There was no reason to give another thought to Jordan’s warnings. He was a grown man. He could deal with Y/N in his own way, even if it meant she didn't want to see him again.

Later, after he'd showered and done his best to forget about what Jordan had said, and what he'd implied, Rafe picked up his phone. He dialed Y/N’s phone number and waited patiently until she picked up.

"Hello?" She sounded breathless.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah? Who's this?"

"Rafe."

There was a pause before she responded and Rafe felt his palms begin to sweat, which was ridiculous since there'd been no nervousness last night.

"Rafe. I didn't think you'd call me today."

He laughed at her surprised tone. "I said that I would."

"Yeah, but not many guys do.” She replied with a laugh.

"I don't know about other guys, but I wanted to talk to you. So, I called."

"I'm glad you called."

There, he thought triumphantly. Would she say that if she'd only wanted him for one night? "What have you been doing today?"

"Well, after Lindsay grilled me about last night, I had a nap.” Y/N said with another laugh.

"Lindsay is your roommate?" Rafe remembered meeting both girls, but other than feeling Y/N’s warmth at his side, he hadn't paid much attention to anything else.

"That’s the one."

"I remember. She grilled you?"

Again, Y/N laughed, a light-hearted sound that slid through Rafe and made his groin tingle. "Yeah, she wouldn't let me sleep until I'd told her everything."

"Everything?"

"Well, not everything.” Y/N conceded. "Enough to get her to leave me alone."

"That's good." Rafe wasn't shy, but the idea of Y/N bragging to her friends about last night didn't exactly fill him with happiness.

"You didn't tell your teammates about us, did you?"

"Hell, no!" Rafe exclaimed with a laugh. "They teased me because I wouldn't tell them anything."

"Oh. That's good."

Rafe agreed. He didn't want to share anything about Y/N with the guys on his team, not until he knew more about her himself. "Are you busy right now?"

"Uh, no, not really. I was just trying to get to the library before it closed for the day. I need a book that I didn't have time to pick up yesterday."

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Tonight? No, why?”

Rafe chuckled. She sounded truly confused about why he was asking. "I want to take you out to dinner."

There was another pause before she responded and Rafe felt his nerves kick in again. There'd been no hesitation last night. Jordan’s doubting words crept into his mind and he tried to push them away.

"Really? You want to see me again?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know.” She mumbled and blew out her breath. "I just thought..." Y/N’s voice trailed off and he thought he heard someone speaking in the background. "Never mind."

"So, can I take you to dinner?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess that'd be alright."

Rafe sighed. Her answer was entirely lacking in enthusiasm. This was doing nothing for his ego. Again, he heard Jordan’s voice in his head: "Y/N does this a lot."

"If you're busy tonight, that's alright."

"No, I'm not busy.” She replied and paused. "Do you not want to? Tonight, I mean? I... we can go out some other time, if you want."

No! Rafe almost shouted the immediate response at her, but didn't want to sound too desperate, especially when she was so underwhelmed to be hearing from him. His doubt was growing with each passing second and he hated himself for it.

"I'd like to go out tonight."

"Well, okay then."

Rafe nodded. Once he saw her again, had her in his arms, he'd make her sound less uncertain. They arranged to meet at a restaurant not too far from the University, to make it easier for her to get there. When they hung up, he stared at his phone for a long moment. Jordan’s few words ran through his mind, along with Y/N’s flat voice over the phone. He told himself not to worry, that they were just getting to know each other and there were bound to be awkward moments.

Rafe tossed his phone on the kitchen counter and strode away, determined to forget about it and focus on the thought of seeing Y/N again that night.

In her dorm room, Y/N closed her cell phone and raised apprehensive eyes to her two friends sitting with her. Lindsay was on her own bed and Maria was sitting at the head of Y/N’s bed, her feet stretched out.

"I can't believe you agreed to see him again.” Maria said and shook her head.

"Why shouldn't she?" Lindsay replied before Y/N could formulate a response. "He asked for her number."

"Only because that's what guys are supposed to do.” Maria scoffed and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

Y/N rolled her eyes at that and Lindsay replied for her again. "Then why would he call her? Today, even?"

Maria frowned and opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. It was almost the same argument they'd been having since Y/N had woken from her midmorning nap. It had been a short nap and she covered her mouth as another yawn escaped her. After she'd crept back to her room that morning, Lindsay had pelted her with questions until she was satisfied Y/N hadn't been hurt.

For her part, every time Y/N thought about Rafe, pictured his blue eyes and wide grin, she had to force her body to calm the hell down. Even with Maria and Lindsay chattering back and forth about the possibilities, she'd only had to think of one of his kisses and she'd disappear into her memories.

Before Rafe’s call, Maria had been emphatically supporting the idea of never seeing him again. Lindsay couldn't understand why and Y/N was torn between both points of view. On the one hand, she'd given Rafe her number because it hadn't seemed like he was going to let her go without it.

Of course, she'd been pleased that he'd even asked, no matter how much she doubted that he'd call. She hadn't gone home with him expecting anything other than sex. Mind blowing, life changing, physically satisfying sex. It was her phone ringing that had startled her out of that particular fantasy. Now, her friends were debating whether she should even see him.

"I've already agreed to go out.” Y/N broke into their rather heated debate. "So, why don't we stop arguing about it and you can help me find something to wear.”

Maria stared at her, her chin set at a stubborn angle while Lindsay jumped up to scour both their closets. Y/N met Maria’s gaze and frowned.

"Why are you so worked up over this?" She asked, no longer able to keep her frustration in check. She loved her friends dearly, loved the way they argued and laughed together. Sometimes Maria could be snobby and aloof and today was one of those times.

"I'm not worked up.” Maria tried to protest, but Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at her. "Alright, I guess I'm a little worked up. It's just that you don't know anything about this guy, Y/N."

"Of course not.” Lindsay spoke from where she was hidden behind the closet door. "They just met last night. That's why they're going out again; to get to know each other."

Y/N nodded and smiled in agreement. That made more sense, even though she was wondering if they'd have the same chemistry in bed a second night. Maria didn't look convinced.

"Come on, Maria.” Y/N probed with a light laugh. "Are you jealous or something?"

Maria’s frown deepened and she stood up. "I'm leaving."

"What? Why?"

"You guys have obviously made up your mind about this and I don't want to stay.” She said as she stalked to the door.

"Maria, come on. Don't be like that. I don't want you to go."

Maria paused at the door and looked back at her friend. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Y/N."

"Why would I be hurt?" Y/N couldn't help but ask. Something about Maria’s expression and tone tugged at her and she felt her doubts about Rafe rising up. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Did Jordan say something to you about Rafe last night?"

To her surprise, Maria blushed, something she rarely did.

"Maria, what's going on?" Lindsay demanded.

Maria looked down at her feet and sighed. "It wasn't something Jordan said."

"Then what?" Y/N was torn between concern for her friend and hurt that she wasn't opening up.

Maria lifted her head and offered a weak smile. "I went home with Jordan last night."

Y/N’s eyes widened and she gaped. "Why didn't you say anything? I've been going on and on about Rafe. You should’ve stopped me."

With a shrug, Maria crossed back to the bed and sat down. "I didn't want to say anything, especially when Rafe called you."

Y/N sat down beside her and reached out to touch her hand. "Why?"

"Jordan didn't ask for my number. He didn't even seem to care when I left."

"Oh, sweetheart.” Lindsay said as she walked over to join them on the bed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was embarrassed. I couldn't bring myself to say anything." Maria lifted glassy eyes to Y/N and laughed. "I guess I was trying to make you feel the same so I wouldn't feel so alone in this."

"You're never alone, Maria.” Y/N assured her as she put her arms around her for a firm squeeze. "Maybe I should stay in tonight. We can all hang out, eat junk food and talk about how stupid guys are."

Maria laughed as Lindsay gasped in shock. “No freaking way, Y/N.” Lindsay said and wagged a finger at her. "You're going on this date."

"But Maria needs us.” Y/N protested.

This time, Maria supported Lindsay. "I was just being stupid, Y/N. You should go out with Rafe. He wouldn't have called if he didn't want to see you."

Y/N studied her for a second. "Alright. If you're sure you're alright."

"I'm fine.” Maria said and hugged her back. "Besides, Lindsay can stay with me and we'll stay up late eating junk food no matter what."

Lindsay nodded. "You have to go out. We'll live vicariously through you, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, but relented. She wanted to go out with Rafe and find out where this attraction might take them.

Several hours later, Y/N was nervously walking along the sidewalk towards the restaurant. Da Andrea was an Italian restaurant that Y/N had eaten at once before. It was a few blocks from the University, but she'd splurged on an Uber ride.

The moment she walked into the restaurant and spotted Rafe, standing several inches taller than those around him, she felt nervous. He looked amazing and Y/N had never felt so frumpy in her life.

Rafe turned and saw her, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. He brushed a strand of his hair off his forehead as he walked towards her. Y/N took in his appearance and felt her knees weaken as he approached. He looked like he'd stepped right off the pages of GQ and she was a young, inexperienced university student wearing borrowed clothes.

"Hey, Y/N.” Rafe greeted her warmly and bent to kiss her cheek.

"Hi.” She replied, her face warming under his touch. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not at all. They're just getting our table ready."

"Excuse me, sir?" The hostess spoke up from just behind him. "Your table is ready. If you'll follow me."

Rafe smiled and nodded. As he turned, he slipped an arm behind Y/N and pressed his hand to the small of her back, urging her ahead of him.

"Ladies first.” He murmured, his low voice sending a frisson of desire up her spine.

Somehow Y/N managed to follow the waitress to a secluded corner of the restaurant. She smiled as Rafe gallantly pulled her chair out for her and the hostess left them with an assurance that their server would be around soon. Left alone together, she smiled shyly at him across the table.

"I'm so glad you came." Rafe was the first to speak and his words surprised her.

"You thought I might not?"

He shrugged, fiddling with his utensils. "I wasn't sure." He stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry. Just ignore me."

A laugh slipped out before Y/N could stop it. "I couldn't ignore you if I tried."

That grin spread across his face and she was transfixed. "I'm so glad to hear you say that."

Y/N cocked her head to one side. Had she not been the only one with doubts? "You really were afraid I might not show up? Why?"

He shrugged, looking self conscious for the first time since she'd met him. "It's stupid. One of the guys said something to me at practice and I should’ve just ignored him."

Y/N’s thoughts turned to Maria and she recalled Jordan, the player who had apparently seduced her friend with ease last night. "I'm almost afraid to ask what he said."

Rafe eyed her silently for a long moment. "Do you want to know?"

Y/N hesitated before she nodded.

"He said I should be careful with you.” Rafe confessed after another moment's hesitation.

She laughed. "With me? Why?"

"He said Maria talked about you a bit last night."

Y/N’s smile froze in place and she felt her mouth go dry. A million thoughts raced through her head, making her feel dizzy. There were any number of things Maria could’ve said. Given how Maria had describe her night with Jordan, she might’ve been feeling spiteful when she said it.

"Did they?" Y/N managed to say out loud.

"Yeah. He said that I should be careful because you'd done this before."

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled nervously. "What? Dated a hockey player?"

Rafe’s chuckle relaxed her somewhat, but then his next words left her feeling like he'd just sucker punched her. "No, slept with men you'd just met."

Y/N stared at him, feeling tears prick the backs of her eyelids. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times, but she couldn't get any words out past the thickness in her throat. Rafe watched her, his smile fading and a frown knitting his forehead.

She shook her head, trying to clear it but all she kept hearing his words echoing in her head. Here she was, all dressed up and she'd been practically giddy at the prospect of a real date with a man she found undeniably attractive. And all along, he'd thought she was just a girl who slept around.

Their server took that moment to appear at their table and he introduced himself. He rattled off the specials before he'd noticed anything was amiss and curiously looked back and forth between Rafe and Y/N.

"Uh, I could come back if you need a minute to decide on drinks?" The server offered.

"Could you, please?" Rafe replied.

The waiter nodded and hurried away. Y/N watched him go before looking down at her hands folded tensely in her lap.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry."

She shrugged. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine.” She repeated, but she wasn't even convincing herself.

Y/N wasn't sure what bothered her more, that Maria had said something even close to that about her, or that Rafe might’ve believed it. Maybe Y/N had been mistaken about his reasons for wanting to see her tonight.

"I think I should go."

Rafe gaped and jumped to his feet as she pushed her chair back. "Please, Y/N. I'm so sorry. Don't go."

"This..." Y/N started and shook her head, blinking away more tears of frustration. "It was very nice meeting you, Rafe, but this just isn't going to work between us."

"No, please don't go, Y/N.” He pleaded, looking truly chagrined.

"I have to.” She replied and smiled at him before leaving him alone in the restaurant.

Shaking his head, Rafe burst out of the restaurant, looking back and forth to either end of the street. He spotted Y/N not too far away to his right. He ran after her, unsure of what he was going to say, but he imagined groveling on his knees might be involved.

"Y/N!"

She stopped and turned to face him, her entire body tense. "Rafe? What are you doing?"

"I couldn't just let you leave." He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "I'm so sorry for what I said. It was stupid."

She shrugged and turned to keep walking. "It was true. It's fine."

Rafe put out a hand to stop her. "Please, I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Y/N looked at him. She wasn't pulling out of his grasp, but she wasn't coming any closer either. Rafe hated that he'd put that wounded look on her face and he couldn't believe he'd let Jordan’s words bother him. He couldn't believe he'd repeated them to her. What man does that? He mentally smacked himself around. He knew better and he felt like such a jerk for upsetting Y/N and possibly ruining any relationship they might’ve been able to develop.

She lowered her eyes. "You don't have to make it up to me, Rafe."

"Yes, I do. I was so stupid.” He insisted and shook his head as an uncomfortable warmth spread over his face. He wouldn't blame her if she never spoke to him again.

"It was stupid." Y/N lifted her eyes to his. She was frowning at him and Rafe almost went limp with relief. If she was willing to talk to him, even to call him on his idiocy, then maybe he could still figure this out.

"Yes!"

The corner of her mouth twitched and Rafe grinned when he saw a dimple appear in her cheek. He thought she might be trying to hold back a smile.

"I was stupid and you're amazing.” He went on when she said nothing.

She did smile then and looked down, a pretty blush creeping up her neck. "I don't know about that."

"I do. Y/N, please. Let me buy you dinner. We can talk and I promise not to say anything stupid, ever again."

Looking back up at him, he was rewarded with her full smile. It made his spine straighten and sent a tingle through his body that was not unpleasant.

"I don't know if any man could keep that promise.” She said.

"I can damn sure try."

For a long moment, Y/N just stared at him. Rafe waited patiently when all he wanted to do was unzip her jacket and slide his hands inside so he could feel her delicious curves again.

She sighed and shifted on her feet. "Honestly, I'm tired. Do you mind if we do this another night?"

Rafe felt his heart squeeze and his smile faded, but he nodded. She wasn't saying she never wanted to see him again. Maybe they had been moving too fast. "Of course."

Y/N offered him a shy smile and Rafe took the opportunity to step closer. He put his arms around her and she stiffened before relaxing and hugging him back. As much as he wanted to keep her there in his arms, he stepped back and held her at arm's length.

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure." Then, she cocked her head to one side. "Don't you have a game?"

"Yeah, but I'll call you after. It's an afternoon game and we should be done around four."

Y/N laughed and touched his arm. "Don't worry about calling me right away. I'm not going anywhere."

"No?" It was on the tip of his tongue to extract a promise from her, but he wasn't going to embarrass himself further.

"No. Call me when you can. Or Monday night, if you end up going into overtime."

Rafe groaned and shook his head. "Don't jinx me!"

She laughed. "I'll talk to you later, Rafe."

"Yeah, you will."

Y/N gave him one more sweet smile before walking away. Rafe watched her go until she'd crossed the street and disappeared into the evening crowd. With a heavy sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked the other way.

TAGLIST: @lovedetlost @valeriiecameron @outerbankspov @ailee-celeste @adventuresinobx @pankowperfection @blueicequeen19 @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts @variety-fangirl @fangirlwithlou @thecameronchronicles @lafantasiaworld @rafesmoon @drewsuncrustables @dreamingwithrafe @obaex @mannstarkey @rafecluver @softcoremaybank @mvybanks @piceous21 @geniedetails @fandomxpreferences @allsmilesreally7 @angelofcigs

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thedeviltohisangel · 1 month

Text

All The Things I Did (5): I Hope I Don't Lose You

a/n: THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PARTIALLY BROKEN. let us all rejoice! light smut ahead but so worth it for these two to finally make each other cum, okay? this should mean inbox is open for sexy times discussions. i promise cass will let john love her soon, she is just scared, ok? they have their first fight but we will survive. standing by to chat//accept blurbs and asks and prompts. love you guys xoxo

warnings: smut

Cass was at a table in the corner of the social club when John and Curt entered. She had skipped out on interrogation, more curious about the envelope Mary had said had come for her marked as urgent from Washington. In it was the identity of the new Commanding Officer for the 100th Bomber Group, slated to arrive the next day. It was none other than Colonel Chick Harding.

She had met Chick Harding in London on her way to Thorpe Abbotts. Her first test as a field officer was to conduct a suitability assessment of a RAF officer one of her colleagues at the embassy was hoping to turn into a source. Cass had been making great progress, her nerves fading the longer she realized she was good at this, when Colonel Harding had made his presence known.

Since she was a teenager, Cass was used to men of all ages flirting with her. Remarking on her dress or her hair or her smile. It always made her feel icky but her older sister told her it was the price for being pretty. Harding had flirted with her, hadn’t tried to hide it, but it was different. Not forceful. Not relentless. Not like he was trying to use his rank to convince her of a certain outcome. After the circumstances under which she had left South Carolina, the attention had been welcome. Reminded her she wasn’t soiled goods. She knew it couldn’t be more than that and was on her way to her flat for the night when the Colonel had slipped a piece of paper into her hand. It made her laugh, the instructions on where she would be able to find him after the party. She hadn’t used them but they had made her feel giddy. And now it looked like Colonel Harding was set to become a more permanent presence in her life.

“You’re looking particularly pensive tonight.” She looked up from the packet at the sound of John’s voice, a glass bottle of Coke placed in front of her and two rocks glasses of whiskey placed across from her.

“Huglin’s been relieved of his command. Just reading some background on the new Colonel.” He pressed a thumb to the crease between her eyebrows to smooth it out.

“No talk of work,” he muttered as he leaned in for a kiss. She obliged him gently and let him pull her off the chair. “You know I love this song.”

“You love every song,” she giggled as he led her into a spin. He caught her against his chest and shared in her laugh.

“With you as my partner, how couldn’t I?” Their lips met halfway and he lifted her slightly to save the strain of going on her tippy toes. “I always ask you to dance but somehow we always get distracted from the actual dancing.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people. Handsome men in particular.”

“Ah, you talk to a lot of handsome men recently?” He dropped her into a dip playfully.

“I’m surrounded by them but one in particular…one in particular has caught my eye.” Her forehead rested against the side of the neck as he pulled her back up.

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met. Has this little curl that falls onto his forehead that drives me crazy. Says things he means and makes me feel…,” she swallowed thickly and John nodded. He was giving her permission to say it. Validating that it was true. “Loved.” The sound of the band and the bartender pouring drinks and the white noise of conversation faded into the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

“Cass,” he started, ready to say those three words. Once and for all get them off his chest and into the atmosphere. Relieve himself of the burden of knowledge and hopefully accept hers in return.

“Not yet.” He froze and took a step back at her words. “I know you tried the other night and I just opened the door again but not yet.” Not when the other paper in that folder had said what they had. That she was selected for an operation into Berlin. An operation that had been unsuccessful three previous times. An operation where the last agent had come home draped in an American flag.

“Right. You say all those things and I’m just supposed to keep suffocating on my own words.” He backed away from her, Cass not used to this sense of dread in her chest. “You know, emotions aren’t inherently dangerous. You’re allowed to have them, Lieutenant.” She almost recoiled from the use of her rank. He downed his two previous glasses with ease and moved towards the bar to refill them.

“John, it’s for good reason. Trust me,” she pleaded as she reached for his arm.

“I’m sure it’s too classified for someone like me. I’m not worth the risk, right?”

“What? I’ve brought you in as much as I could! Shared everything with you-” One more glass of whiskey went down his throat. “You were the one I asked for when I got off that plane. The one I reached for because I knew you would make me feel safe.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with anger. Another whiskey as he clenched his fist at the memory.

“That feeling I had running towards you. That feeling I had when that son of a bitch got in the way of reaching you.” He brought her hand to rest flat against his chest. “The way I felt when you told me I was yours. That is what is trapped in here, Cass. That is what you aren’t letting me express to you.”

“If you do, and something happens to me, I’ll never forgive myself.” John was Air Exec. He’d be safe on the ground, in a control tower, locked away in an office to wait out this war. He had an after. Cass wasn’t so sure she was guaranteed the same.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I got my next field assignment.” She didn’t elaborate any further but he thinks he was reading the implications behind her eyes.

“When do you leave?” he relented. He regretted spending even a second angry with her now. Regretted being the cause of her tears. Wanted to spend the rest of the night apologizing.

“Soon. They are sending me with a partner for this one, waiting for his arrival.” Cass hugged her arms around herself. She felt cold. Something missing between her and John that had been there earlier in the night. A distance between them she wasn’t used to and didn’t like.

“You going to say goodbye this time?” His fingers twitched to reach out and touch her but it felt wrong. Like the tether between them had snapped and needed more than the setting had to offer to fix it.

“Never goodbye. A see you soon.” John looked up at the ceiling with a pitiful laugh.

“Fuck, Cass, what are we going to do? A flyboy and a spook. We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“I vaguely remember asking if you were a hotshot the first time I met you.”

“Only one of us has ended up in the medical wing.” Cass snorted and looked away from his analytical gaze. “I’m sorry.” There was a lot left unsaid but it was a start. She opened her mouth to respond when Curt’s voice echoed across the bar.

“Bucky! Round on me, let’s go!”

“I’ll be over in a minute!” He wanted to fix things first. Get back to where they were at the beginning of the night.

“Go. I’ll catch up with you later.” She was reminded that the 100th had lost more than a few men that day and they were there to mourn them in the first place.

“You sure?” She nodded, John leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. Cass gripped his chin before he could pull away.

“Kiss me properly, Major.” He grinned wickedly, his heart returning to it’s normal rhythm, surging forward to oblige her request. It was hungry and all consuming, frantic and frenzied. John pushed her hair over her shoulder to get a better grip around her cheek and groaned as her hands slid up the front of his chest with a deliberately slow pace. They only separated when the whistles pierced through the veil, John going back in for one, two, three more pecks to her lips before he fully pulled away.

“Does that work?” Her lip slipped between her teeth and she nodded.

“Until later.” His knuckles brushed against her cheek longingly before he disappeared to the other end of the bar with his men. Cass grabbed her folder from the table and disappeared out the back door, ready to retire for the night. A couple hours of sleep would do her and emotionless heart some good.

----

She woke before the sun, the look in John’s eyes seared into her memory. Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to stop him from saying he loved her anymore. Maybe her worry about breaking his heart was misplaced. Cass thinks he would be strong enough to handle it. The longer he was out here, the better he would get at compartmentalizing his emotions. The losses for the 100th had only just begun. She didn’t know how she was supposed to watch him wear them.

Cass needed some fucking air. Hopeful the cold would shock her back into her usual, even keeled self, she slipped her silk robe over her nightgown and stuck her feet into her boots before finding her way outside. She wasn’t surprised to hear voices, assuming Lemmons and his men were up early to work on the planes, but she recognized them with a furrowed brow as she got closer and two figures on top of the plane came into focus. Clearly it had ended up being more than one round.

“Do you feel anything?” That was John. He was holding a bottle of whiskey and his uniform jacket was billowing in the breeze.

“Yeah, I miss those guys,” Curt responded.

“I don’t feel a thing anymore. Unless I’m with Spook.” He smiled wistfully. “With her, I feel everything.”

“She’s good for you. She’s keeping you sane out here.”

“Driving me insane more like it.” He needed to snap out of it. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“I want you to hit me. I want you to land one right on my beak.” She considered stepping in but was curious to see this play out.

“Major-”

“Don’t give me ‘Major.’” He threw his jacket to the ground. “Ranks off.”

“Stop horsing around.”

“Horsing around? I’m not a horse.” Cass watched him goad and goad Curt until his fist snapped forward and John’s hands flew to his nose.

“Bet you felt that.” She emerged from her hiding spot behind the tail of the plane and John smiled.

“Lieutenant Cooper, can I trust him in your hands for the rest of the night?” Curt hopped down from the wing as she nodded. A kiss on his cheek as a thank you and he was off to try and catch a few moments of sleep.

“Baby, come up here.” He moved to the edge and gripped under her arms, lifting her onto the wing of the plane with an ease that had her feeling warm in the cool early morning air. “What’re you doing out here?” John nuzzled his nose against hers lovingly. It had only been a few hours but he had missed her.

“Going for a walk when I heard a couple of hooligans and decided to check it out in spite of my best judgment.”

“This hooligan never got the chance to properly apologize to you earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Her hands rested against his chest and she looked up at him with adoration. “I shouldn’t have shut you down. Losing you scares me more than I know how to say and I’m not used to being scared.” Or used to being in love for that matter.

“My little Spook,” he traced his thumb along her bottom lip, “you don’t have to have your armor up around me.”

“I’m working on it. Just have to be patient with me.” Cass welcomed his kiss and recognized the pleasant ache that was settling between her legs. This man was making her feel things no other had in more ways than one.

“You take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” Call it the effects of alcohol or lack of sleep but John was feeling weightless. Like if he didn’t have her right then and there, he’d float away. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Testing the waters, she undid the knot of his tie. He watched in a daze as his mind tried to catch up with what he thinks she was asking. She tossed it in the same direction he had thrown his jacket.

“John,” she cooed as his mouth watered at her robe slipping off one of her shoulders. “I need you.”

“Tell me where you need me.” Her frustrated groan was swallowed by his kiss, his hands slipping from the small of her back to grab at her ass, his lips moving to latch onto her neck with the goal of leaving a mark.

“Need you everywhere,” she gasped as his tongue soothed over the blossoming accessory he had added to her throat. Cass moved his hand to the hem of her night gown and guided it up and up until his fingertips met her hip bones. He moaned into her kiss as his fingertips teased along the top band of her underwear, tracing down the front of them until he found the spot that made her hips buck.

“Ah, right there?” John removed his hand and caught her as she collapsed into his chest. “I’m going to take care of you, baby, promise. Just not out here.” He jumped down from the wing, reaching to lift her down after him. As soon as her feet hit the ground, her lips were back on his and her fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“When I said be patient with me I didn’t mean at a glacial pace,” she quipped. He laughed, one thumb stroking over her pulse point in her neck and the other hand pushing her robe off her arms the rest of the way.

“You know how to climb into a B-17 or do you need a hand?”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I need your hand.” She stepped towards the open hatch and gripped the edge before tucking her feet in line with her head and landing in the hull. John can’t deny he got a little harder at the sight. He followed suit and welcomed her into his lap with no reservations now that they were away from any potential prying eyes.

“A dream come fucking true,” he whispered as she stradled him and he got a good look at her. Chest flushed. Hair wild. Nightgown strap slipping down her arm. John hooked a finger under it and slowly helped it the rest of the way, goosebumps sparking on her breasts as they were exposed to his gaze. “Beautiful.” His lips latched around one nipple, her breath catching and back arching to press further into his touch.

“That feels good.” Her voice had an edge to it that drove him wild. His tongue was soft as it lavished against her and her blood rushed between her legs at the thought of what it would feel like there. Where she needed him the most. John hummed as they popped out of his mouth like a lollipop.

“Been dreaming about having you like this,” he whispered as she nipped at his bottom lip. “Dreaming about what was under that lace in your office that day. About the sounds you make when I kiss you…right…here,” his lips attaching to the spot on her throat in question and the moans that gave him a reason to live were music to his ears. And he hadn’t even gotten her sleepwear off yet.

“What else have we been doing in your dreams?” she asked as they kissed languidly. John pressed forward until she was laid gently on her back and her knees fell to the side to accommodate him. He shrugged off his button up and lifted his undershirt over his head, Cass sitting up to kiss across his chest before using his dog tags to pull him back down with her.

“Going to take more than one night to show you.”

“Good,” she smiled sweetly in direct contrast to the sinful state she was in, “I was hoping to keep you around for a little while.” He started at her lips and worked his way down to gently tug her nipples with his teeth before bunching her nightgown at her waist and settling where he had left off on the wing of the plane.

“You always sleep in these delicate, little things?” Of course John had thought about ravishing her. Thought about what she would look like in a thin, silk nightgown in the moonlight. Thought about what might be underneath it. If anything.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He would. Desperately. But he settled for kissing the skin where it met the lace, Cass squirming at the affection. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he asked without looking up. The tip of his nose found the spot from earlier, a smirk lighting his face.

“Fuck, John, yes. Yes, I always dress up for bed.” There was something domestic about the notion that tickled a satisfying corner of his soul. He liked learning the nooks and crannies of her. Liked the idea of getting to know her routines and habits. Of learning how to merge their lives together.

“I like that. Easy to see how wet you are.” John pressed his thumb to the front of her panties and circled slowly and gently. “Look at me.” Cass propped herself onto her elbows and reached to push the curl that had fallen onto his forehead back into its place.

“I’m looking and I like what I see.” Flushed and drunk on love, John Egan looked like he was exactly where he belonged. He pressed harder with a cheshire cat grin as her head dropped back.

“I like what I see too, gorgeous.” The lace slid down her legs slowly and his lips followed down, the undergarment over his shoulder and forgotten, then back up so no inch of her skin was left untouched.

“John Egan, an attentive lover,” she teased.

“Only for you.” Only for the girl he was in love with. Thinks he loved her the moment he saw her. Knew he would love her forever. “Are you going to behave?”

“Not if you make me wait-” Her words faded into a sigh as he finally flicked his tongue against her. His hands hooked over her thighs, he spread her open as he coaxed sounds of heaven from her mouth and a sensual writhing of her hips.

“Taste like a fucking goddess,” he groaned, dipping a finger into her as her breaths came quicker.

“John.” God, he could fucking die at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth like that. A second finger. “Fuck.”

“You going to cum for me?” He rested his cheek against her thigh and admired the view. He wanted to sear this moment into his memory. The moment he saw her with no walls. Completely vulnerable. Trusting him with seeing her like this. This version of her was the one he was fighting for. The one he would die for.

“Only for you,” she said, echoing his earlier statement. Promising he was the only one who would be with her in this way. Promising a forever of nights like this. John understood the sentiment as it settled in his chest.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he cooed before his lips closed around her clit and pushed her over the edge. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her from escaping his mouth as she came with a call of his name and a tug of his hair. She shivered as he kissed the insider of her thigh, between her breasts and onto her lips. “Did so good, baby.”

“Who would’ve thought. A flyboy and a spook.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as her hand moved towards his belt buckle, his hand on her wrist stopping her.

“Who said I was done with you?” And if Cass called his name into the night a few more times before the sun rose, that was between them and the moon. And if John learned her tongue could charm a sinful symphony from his lips, that was between them and the stars. And if Ken Lemmons stumbled upon their discarded clothes and folded them neatly by the wheel while they slept in each other’s arms, only the sun and the clouds needed to know. And if John woke before her and held her tighter and kissed her forehead with a promise and a prayer, a promise to protect her and love her and a prayer that he would have the opportunity to do so, well that was between him and the man upstairs. John Egan just hoped He was listening.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year

Text

The After Party

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: When your new fling Andrei invites you to his joint birthday party, you’re surprised to learn that it’s a past flame who shares his birthday. And surely a double birthday calls for a double celebration — even if that means that you are the gift.

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! Your bday gang bang awaits. 😘 Thanks for letting me take creative filth liberty to write your ultimate fantasy with my two favorite Carolina princes. Also S/O to @ryanpulock for literally remaking two gifs for my graphic and for encouraging the depravity. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever written this on tumblr dot com before so… enjoy!

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing, one (1) use of Y/N. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal + anal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, creampie oh my god this is so depraved. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Masterlist

When Andrei Svechnikov slid into your DMs, you were shocked, to say the least. When he showed genuine interest, asking you on a real date instead of the standard late-night meet up, you were even more surprised.

That was two months ago. Since then, you’ve crossed a myriad of unexpected things off your list with regard to Andrei Svechnikov. You’ve had a sleepover—with just cuddling—and gone out to breakfast, even started a small collection of Carolina Hurricanes t-shirts in your drawer, remnants of late nights and slow mornings with the Russian superstar. You’ve met a small handful of his teammates—always introduced vaguely, with no title to give you any inkling of where you stood relationship-wise, or even how he really feels about you.

Tonight is your next ‘first’: a Canes party. Andrei’s birthday party, to be specific, meaning your man (date? Boyfriend?)—whatever—is the star of the show.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement, hence the extra shot before your Uber arrives to take you to Andrei’s. If he notices, he doesn’t seem bothered, greeting you with a smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

“You look hot.”

“Well, I have to look nice for your birthday, don’t I?” you say with a shy smile, still not used to this Adonis of a man complimenting you and checking you out so shamelessly. He responds with a slap to your ass and something murmured about a birthday gift later that earns a dull throb between your legs as you follow him out the door.

As you’re walking into the party—at the house of one of his teammates, whose name he hadn’t mentioned—Andrei takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers between his large ones. The action causes the butterflies in your chest to flutter excitedly at the outward display of affection.

It doesn’t take long for a drink to find its way into your hand and several introductions to take place. You’re still just Your Name, No Title, though your adrenaline barely lets you dwell on it, focusing instead of learning names and not making a fool of yourself. While you make small talk with Sebbe, the side profile of a handsome brunette catches your eye. He’s laughing, a crinkle around his eye as he smiles, and there’s something about his laugh that feels so familiar…

Andrei approaches as you’re building the courage to ask who the mystery man is. With his arm slipped casually around your waist, the question disappears as quickly as it came. Sebbe teases Andrei, who blushes and nudges him with his leg.

When Sebastian takes his leave, called to the rowdy game of flip cup outside, you’re left alone with Andrei. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, almost as if to say, you’re doing great. You barely have time to process. before someone is bounding up to the two of you like a golden retriever—and of course, it’s none other than your brunette mystery man.

“Svech, the birthday boy!” he greets, clapping his hand against Andrei’s in a greeting. Andrei smiles, then gestures to you, ready to introduce you. Your eyes slide up to his, instantly registering why he’s so familiar—

“Brady?”

You watch as the same realization dawns on his face, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, shit — hey, Y/N!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he shoots back, though his eyes flick to Andrei with a hint of realization before his beautiful brown irises are back on yours.

Andrei pauses, confusion written on his face as he looks between the two of you. He quickly racks his brain, trying to remember if he’d already introduced you. The memory never comes, though, because he hasn’t, and he realizes a moment too late that you two already know each other, somehow, some way.

“You two know each other?”

You bite your lip, contemplating how you want to approach as you glance over at Brady. Because how do you tell your new fuck buddy that his teammate is your former fuck buddy?

“Brady and I…”

“We used to—”

“—we used to hang out when he lived in New York,” you finish for him, your eyes shifting hopefully to Andrei, praying that he won’t read between the lines and that Brady will take the hint to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh,” is all Andrei says, and in an instant you know that he has, in fact, put the pieces together. Of course, the way Brady’s eyes are glittering as he looks at you doesn’t help, either. You’re sure he’s reflecting on one of the many times he had you crying out his name in his bed after a party not-so-dissimilar to the one you’re at.

“Welcome to our joint birthday party,” he says with a warm smile, and you’re thankful that he’s decided to keep any extracurricular thoughts to himself. “Did Svech tell you we share the same birthday?”

“No, he didn’t,” you smile back, offering him a ‘Happy Birthday’ as you raise your drink, taking an extra long gulp in an effort to aid your nerves.

Brady thanks you, then excuses himself to greet a few other teammates who’ve walked in, leaving you standing awkwardly with Andrei. He’s quiet, toying with the label on his beer bottle, and you shift uncomfortably.

Is he mad? Does he think I’m a whore?

“I can leave, if you want me to,” you finally say quietly, deciding to just address the elephant in the room; Andrei isn’t stupid and has surely figured it out. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead casting your gaze to the hardwood floor. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, but you’d understand if he was no longer interested given the layer of complication Brady added to your relationship.

Your words make him pause, and you can feel his eyes on you. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to face him, looking you firmly in the eye. “No. I want you here.”

A rush of emotion floods your system, almost embarrassed at his display of affection. He’s never been so direct with you, and part of you wonders if the Brady discovery has forced it out of him. With a nod, you smile as he presses his lips to yours softly.

Later, you find yourself in the hot tub with Andrei, Marty, and Nykki as the party starts to wane down, both the water and the heat in Andrei’s eyes causing your body to warm from the inside out. The conversation is light, casual, and your uncertainty after your unexpected reunion with Brady might as well have never happened.

When Marty and Nykki bid their farewells a little while later, you’re alone with your new Russian friend, who scoots closer to you in the otherwise empty hot tub. Underneath the water, his large hand reaches for your knee, giving you a squeeze. You offer him a smile, trying to hide the effect he has on you.

“Brady seems pretty excited that you’re here.”

“I’m sure it was just the alcohol,” you wave off his comment, doing your best to hide your surprise that he’s returned to the topic.

Andrei hums, and you know he doesn’t believe your indifference, your nonchalant response. You wouldn’t either, if the roles were reversed.

“It really wasn’t a big thing,” you add, feeling the need to clarify—to justify your past relationship. “It was totally casual.”

And then you feel his fingers take flight in a slow glide on your leg. Your breath hitches slightly when you realize, seeing the tiny smirk that creeps onto his face. His movements are skewed by the distortion in the water and the ripple in the surface, so he moves confidently and with little hesitation.

“Did he touch you here?” his voice purrs in your ear, his hand sliding up your thigh.

“Andrei…”

“How about here?” his other hand caresses your breast, your nipple hardening under his touch despite the heat of the water.

“Did he make you come?”

Up ‘til now, Andrei has been more than satisfactory in the bedroom, but he’s reserved. He’s not afraid to leave marks and show his strength a little bit, but you can tell he’s been holding something back, that there’s another layer hiding beneath his kind surface. He’s confident, that much is clear, but you’ve sensed an almost cocky interior that’s been waiting to make an appearance, biding its time until it can ravage you.

“Sure fuckin’ did, bud,” a voice that isn’t yours sounds from the patio. Both you and your companion look up in surprise, unaware that anyone was around.

Brady stands with a hand in his pocket, a bottle of beer held loosely in his other as he observes the scene in front of him. You don’t know how long he’s been there, but you assume it’s been long enough for him to glean what’s happening—Andrei, jealous, claiming you back into his possession. Part of you wonders if he’d want to watch.

“Made her scream quite a bit, too.”

Instantly, you feel Andrei tense beside you, hand gripping onto your thigh as Brady welcomes himself into the hot tub. He’s calm, cool, collected, fully aware he’s riling Andrei up and flustering you at the same time.

Once he’s settled, he takes another swig of his beer before nodding at you. “Have to say, you were one of the biggest reasons I was disappointed to leave New York when I got traded.”

Andrei grimaces, the pulse point in his neck ticking. He knows what Brady’s doing, too, and he’s weighing his options. The last thing he wants to do is fight his own teammate, but he does want to wipe that smug expression off of his handsome face. Fuck, why did your previous exploit have to be him—the handsome Disney prince?

As he watches you and Brady make small talk, playing catch up on each other’s lives, Andrei contemplates. He could fall to follow Brady’s whims, loosening the control he has and blurring the line of who you’re here to see.

Or he could push back. Assert himself, solidifying his place in your life as your man.

And somehow, the second option seems much more appealing.

“Babe, come on,” he says, interrupting Brady’s hilarious story about the time he took the wrong subway in NYC, ignoring the way you giggle. “Let’s go into the sauna.”

Puzzled at the abrupt change of pace, you look at him and watch as he offers you his hand to help you out of the hot tub with a smile. With a shrug, you send Brady an apologetic glance before accepting it. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you step out, the warm water falling from your body.

Once you’re inside the sauna, Andrei turns up the temperature. As he sits down, he pulls you into his lap, easily adjusting your body until you’re straddling him. The wooden bench is warm and hard beneath your knees, but the way Andrei is looking at you is enough to distract you from any discomfort.

His hand glides along your jaw, smirking once he sees the hitch in your throat. Part of you is anxious, worried that someone will walk in. Your mind flashes to Brady, sitting in the hot tub just around the corner, to the times where you’d been in the exact same position in his lap—though, admittedly, never in a sauna.

“I don’t mind that you slept with him,” comes Andrei’s deep voice, murmured lowly as he continues to trail light circles over your damp skin. Relief floods your mind, quickly replaced by surprise when he adds, “Actually, it’s kinda hot.”

“It is?”

Andrei nods with a hum, nipping at a spot on your neck. “Yeah. S’like he warmed you up for me.”

Between his words and the heat of his mouth against your skin, you mewl. Before you have a chance to say anything back, his pillowy lips are pressing against yours in an open-mouthed kiss, hot and full of fire and unlike any other time he’s kissed you before. Surely the steam and the dim lighting adds to the aura, moisture building between your thighs as you feel where his groin is pressed against you.

“Don’t think I’d mind sharing,” he mumbles against your lips, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing on your mouth. You whimper at his implication, the thought of both of their lips working sinful magic on you almost too much to bear.

Of course, he notices your reaction; it’s impossible to ignore the way your hips roll steadily in his lap. His lips curl into a smile against yours. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

He pulls away, only slightly, to gauge your response. You cast your eyes down shyly, embarrassed, which only makes him smile harder at the contrast—shy despite admitting wanting to be fucked by two men. It’s cute, and it makes him want to ravage you even more than he already does.

“Could go get him right now, if you want,” he says softly. “It is our birthday, after all.”

Brady’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of you and Andrei approaching, hand in hand. Something’s different though, judging by the heave of your chest and the way your eyes avert his gaze; briefly, his mind flickers to what happened inside the sauna to yield your reaction. Andrei’s confident, smug, nodding at him in greeting. Something shifts in the air as they communicate silently, messages sent through a jerk of Andrei’s head and a sly smirk.

Eyebrows raised, Brady glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. The shyness of your glance is all he needs to confirm that you’re in, and a toothy grin breaks out on his handsome face.

“Oh? You gonna give us both a little birthday treat?” he asks, taking in the way you’re nervously chewing on your lip.

The sound of water sloshing has you looking up, seeing water sliding down Brady’s muscular body as he stands up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he makes his way down the steps and approaches you, tucking a finger under your chin. Flashes of silver in his hair shine in the dim light. “Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart. You know I only bite if you want me to.”

His less-than-subtle words make the butterflies in your chest beat their wings, heart ticking a touch faster with both of them in such close proximity. It had never really formally ended with Brady, only a few texts exchanged to let you know he was moving and a vague promise to reach out the next time he was in town. He hadn’t, but you weren’t offended; it had never been that kind of relationship.

The indefinite end to your little tryst is what you attribute to the excited pulse of your heart in your throat, able to easily recall the feelings for Brady that had been left dormant over the last few years. They don’t compete with what you feel for Andrei, but they’re enough to have you buzzing as he leads you into the house.

The next thing you know, you find yourself in Brady’s bedroom—foreign to you, though you recognize the bed frame and the bookshelf from his apartment in New York. You shiver, cool now that the air conditioning hits your damp skin. It’s quickly remedied when Andrei’s firm body approaches you from behind, his broad, muscular chest pressed against your back while his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him.

His lips begin a slow, teasing descent on the back of your neck and along your shoulder blade, not wasting any time by waiting for any sort of awkward introduction. You can feel Brady’s eyes on you, observing the way you react to Andrei’s touch, as if trying to remember what makes you tick. He’s gauging his next action, content for now to watch the way goosebumps break out over your skin and take in the small noises emitting from your throat.

Andrei’s large hands pull your hips backwards, until your ass is pressed against a very firm appendage, and you gasp. For all you’ve been worried about how Andrei will react, he seems to thoroughly enjoy the idea of sharing you. Brady’s eyes crinkle, his lips curling up into a smile.

“You like that, sweetheart? Is he hard for you?”

As if to ensure you know that he is, Andrei pushes his hips forward in a short thrust. He accentuates the movement with a nip to your shoulder before Brady’s stepping forward to close the gap between you. Before you can even register the two large bodies you’re deliciously sandwiched between, his lips are on yours in a kiss that sucks the air out of your lungs.

Brady’s hands snake their way up your jaw to tangle in your hair, his tongue quick to find yours as he re-familiarizes himself with your mouth. The feeling of his lips almost instantly recalls memories at the things he used to do to you with them, your unexpected reunion adding flame to the fire. Your mind is hazy, drunk on palomas and desire as Andrei’s hands tug your hips back to afford him the angle to grind his pelvis against you. The kiss is hot, and you’ve completely forgotten about the coolness of your damp swimsuit, your skin shockingly warm as the temperature continues to rise in Brady’s room.

Without warning, four hands flip you around in sync so that you’re facing Andrei, who greets you with a dimpled smirk. Brady’s hands, formerly in your hair, drag heat up your sides to land at your chest, tugging the material of your bikini top to the side to expose your breasts. As Andrei moves forward to kiss you, Brady massages each breast, his lips smirking against your shoulder blade when he hears you let out a faint moan.

“Fuck, I missed these tits,” he mumbles. “They’re incredible, aren’t they, Svech?”

Andrei nods, leaning his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue circles around it, teeth nipping when it hardens beneath his touch, and your hand finds its place on the back of his head to hold him in place. He and Brady work in tandem, silently massaging your body as you succumb to the pleasure, head lolling back against Brady’s shoulder.

His lips press gently against your temple, drinking in the sighs you let out. It’s his turn to press his erection against your ass as he murmurs, “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours again, darling. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

For being a Disney prince, Brady has always had a filthy mouth, never failing to strike at your deepest, most depraved desires. He mouths at your jaw, fingers flexing into the skin of your hips. “Bet you’re absolutely fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod helplessly, gasping out when Andrei nips at your breast, almost as if to say, attention on me.

“Come sit on my face, malyshka,” he says lowly, eyes flicking to Brady’s with a smirk. Once he’s adjusted, laying flat on the mattress, he holds out his hand to help guide you onto the bed. “Face Brady. Want him to watch.”

You do as you’re told, adjusting as you straddle his chest and scoot forward. Andrei’s expression is hungry as you get into place, his eyes quickly focusing on the apex of your thighs and tugging you closer to his face. The man’s mouth is downright sinful, and you can’t help the way wetness pools between your legs as he devours you with his eyes alone.

It’s only then that you glance at Brady, whose hands are working at the tie on his swimming trunks before shedding the wet fabric to the floor with a whoosh. Your eyes feast on his erection, even more beautiful than you remember it, admiring the way he grips it tightly in his hands.

“You still get wet sucking dick, baby?” he asks, and Andrei answers with an enthusiastic fuck yeah she does before he’s latching his mouth onto your core.

A moan falls from your mouth as his skilled tongue tastes your folds with vigor. Brady allows you a moment to take in the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut while Andrei groans against you. The touch of his hand on your jaw has your eyes opening again, meeting the warmth of his brown irises.

“What do you say we give him a treat, hm? Let him taste how delicious you are?”

You’re nodding so quickly that he laughs, helping to maneuver you so that you’re bent forward. With the change in angle, Andrei’s tongue is able to probe at your clit, while Brady guides his length toward your mouth. Eagerly, you accept him, the weight of him forgotten but familiar on your tongue.

It isn’t long before Brady’s head is falling back in a sigh as you work your way down his considerable length. He’s smooth, save for the pulsing vein on the underside, and you let the tip of your tongue run along it as you bob your head up and down. His hands tangle in your hair to steady himself, matching the way Andrei’s hands have now begun to grip your ass tightly.

“Still have never met someone who sucks dick as good as you do.”

Preening at his praise, you allow him deeper, finally pressed against the back of your throat as he groans lowly. Andrei’s voice is muffled, a deep “Fuck” murmured against your core as he reaps the reward of your arousal from sucking Brady off, growing wetter with each sound that escapes from his pretty throat.

Before long, the sinful work of Andrei’s tongue slows the movement of your own mouth, pulling yourself off of Brady’s length to mouth at the base as you moan. Your movements are slowed, distracted by the pleasure that your Russian is sending through your body. Brady reacts seamlessly, his hand gently guiding your mouth toward his balls, enjoying the way your tongue laves against the sensitive skin in combination with the moans that fall from your mouth.

“You gonna come for him, sweetheart? Gush all over that handsome face of his?”

You barely have time to nod before Andrei’s tongue flicks and sends you into overdrive, a loud cry leaving your throat. His mouth works you through your climax, tongue furiously matching your movements to prolong it as he laps up your nectar. A low chuckle bubbles up from Brady’s chest, amused as he watches your body come down from its high.

“You always look so pretty when you come.”

“You’re both pretty when you come,” you shoot back, a wave of mischief passing through you, as though your orgasm reinvigorated your confidence. Brady offers his hand to help you slide off of Andrei’s face—though you wouldn’t have complained about staying there for the rest of the night.

Andrei gives your ass a slap before he wipes off his face on the back of his hand. You can see remnants of you glistening on his upper lip, and the heat between you is palpable as he caresses your face before jerking his head back toward the mattress. “Go on, malyshka. Why don’t you show him how good you look when you ride my cock?”

With a smile, you nod, returning to a similar position as before, except this time, you’re straddling his waist rather than his face. And this time, instead of his warm tongue bobbing between your legs, it’s his dick, hard and weeping as it begs for entrance to your cunt.

You smirk at him, wrecked and panting beneath you, as you drag your hips along his length, grinding your clit against him as you hold yourself up on his muscular chest. Brady’s taken a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, watching intently as he leisurely strokes himself.

“Don’t— don’t tease, kisa,” Andrei begs, the desperation in his voice near enough to make you moan.

And who are you to argue? It is his birthday, after all.

Sinking down onto him, your mouth opens in a silent scream as you feel him stretching you open. He’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and you’re still getting used to the way he hits spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Andrei likes it, though, smug at the slow way you swallow his length and hoping that Brady’s taken notice at the raw, pleasured moan that you let out. The thought disappears quickly when he bottoms out inside you, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment to accommodate his size, feeling the way he pulses inside your heat.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and Andrei silently encourages you by resting his large hands on your hips for support. He’s patient, waiting for you to move, and eventually you do.

Soon, you’re moving in a steady rhythm, the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass filling the room. Andrei’s hands help to move you on his length, but his eyes are distracted by the bounce of your breasts. Briefly, your eyes meet Brady’s, who’s equally torn at whether to look at your face or your tits.

In a sudden movement, Andrei’s hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over, your back abruptly hitting the mattress near Brady’s thigh. You barely have time to register the new position before his large hands are pulling apart your legs and pushing himself inside you, instantly setting a hurried pace.

It’s a display of dominance, of the ease in which he can manhandle you, like a reminder to both you and Brady who you belong to. He might be sharing with his teammate for the night, but at the end of the day you’re still his girl. He drives pleasure into you with each push of his hips, his hands gripping your sides so tightly you think there might be bruises tomorrow. The force of his thrusts are enough to render you speechless, and your eyes close as you absorb every sensation he brings to life.

The feeling of Andrei’s lips on your jaw and the rough sound of him panting in your ear have your eyes blinking open. You catch Brady’s expression, hungry, as he watches the way Andrei claims you for his own. A fire ignites in his eyes when he watches Andrei’s hand snake between your bodies, the pad of his finger quickly finding your clit.

Instead of maintaining his rhythm and driving you to your second crest, he slows his hips to a painstaking pace. He’s unable to prevent the smirk that blooms on his face at the way you instantly whine, pulsing around him desperately.

“You like having an audience, don’t you?” he teases, accent thick. “You like that he’s watching me fuck you, huh?”

“Andrei,” you rasp, your hands clutching onto his biceps that are far too large for you to hold. “Please.”

“Answer him, sweetheart,” comes Brady’s voice. It’s not a command, but you want to obey anyways, and you nod with a gasp as Andrei pauses inside you, balls deep while he waits for your reply. “You like being on display, hm?”

“Y-yes, I love when- when he watches,” you stutter. “Drei— please —”

“Well, I love him watching you come undone for me. First my tongue, now all over my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

A strangled moan is your reply, eyes rolling back as he presses directly against your g-spot, pausing for a moment to feel the way you throb around him. There’s something so incredibly hot about his admission, wanting Brady to see the effect he has on you.

“You can do it, kisa,” he murmurs, his hips resuming their delayed pace. “Come for me.”

All at once, you realize he’s not going to speed up, instead content to drive you slowly to insanity. His calm, confident demeanor is annoyingly sexy, as is the smug expression on his face. The pressure of his finger on your clit sends fireworks through your core, the steady punch of his dick against your g-spot enough to make your toes curl.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes you closer to the cliff, and around a thick accent, he demands, “Fucking come for me, dorogoy.”

You have no choice but to obey, your climax surging through you as your legs go stiff around Andrei’s hips. Distantly, you can hear Brady groan while Andrei hums in approval. The movement of his hips don’t cease, instead working you through your high until your legs fall limply to the mattress.

He sits back, eyes glued to your pussy as he pulls out, pleased with the way his dick is coated in your orgasm.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made,” he smirks. You do, and through the haze of your orgasm, you itch to taste him. But then, he’s turning his focus toward his friend, and your attention shifts. “She’s all yours, Skjeisy.”

“Best birthday gift you could ever get me, Svech,” Brady replies, eyes raking over your body hungrily.

Your cheeks warm at his words, suddenly shy again as you glance up at him through your lashes. He stands before you, muscular and handsome, the streaks of gray in his hair shining silver in the low light of the room. The word daddy comes to mind, but you keep it to yourself, instead watching as he shifts onto the mattress.

“You still like taking it in the ass, baby?” he asks, and your heart flutters at his question. You haven’t done that with Andrei, not yet; you haven’t even broached the subject. But now he’s looking at you with heat in his eyes, slightly surprised but more than that, he’s intrigued.

You bite your lip and nod, unable to prevent the grin that spreads on your face as Brady hums, surely reminiscing on your past encounters. Andrei’s eyes are hot on you, though you can’t look away from Brady’s as he tugs you closer to where he’s knelt on mattress. His mouth is quick to find yours again, his tongue not wasting any time, as if to let you know how eager he is.

When he plunges two fingers into you, they slip in with ease from your arousal and your orgasm. He pulses them, exploring the tightness of your cunt, his dick throbbing against his leg as he does. Brady whistles when he pulls out two glistening fingers, observing at the way they shine in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Be a good girl and taste yourself for me,” he says, voice sweet like honey as he pushes the fingers past your lips. It’s tangy and salty on your tongue, but you suck them obediently, relishing the flavor.

Andrei groans at the way your lips wrap around the digits, undoubtedly reminiscing on the time it’s been his fingers or his dick subjected to the pleasures of your mouth.

Brady murmurs to Andrei, something about the bedside table, and he disappears and reappears in an instant with a bottle of lube in his hand. With both hands, Brady maneuvers your body and positions you so you’re on your knees, your face pressed against the soft sheet on the bed. You feel his fingers run over your pussy, still sensitive from Andrei’s treatment, clicking his tongue at the way it looks glistening with your cum. He catches some of the liquid oozing out on his finger and drags it up toward your puckered hole, circling lightly before he adds a healthy drizzle of lube. Once you’re thoroughly primed, he pushes the tip of his index into you.

A loud cry leaves your lips, the sensation vaguely familiar but strange. Brady takes his time, working you open until he gradually adds a second finger.

“You think you can take both of us, sweetheart?” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. Your eyes widen, connecting with Andrei’s, who offers a smug wink. Damn them and their teammate telepathy, making you feel like the third wheel even though you’re the one they’re fucking.

When you nod, Andrei shakes his head and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes again. “Gotta hear you say it, kisa.”

“Yes, I want to,” you say, though you can’t hide the shake in your voice. Whether it’s from nerves or the way that Brady’s fingers are probing your ass, you aren’t entirely sure.

Andrei’s voice is soft, a stark contrast to the scene in Brady’s bedroom. “If you want to stop, at any time, just say the word, and we’re done, okay?”

His words are comforting, and suddenly you feel yourself throb with desire at the thought of both of them filling you up. You’re nodding again, your voice a bit more desperate this time as Brady adds his tongue to the movement of his fingers, the heat from his mouth enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I remember,” he groans against you, lapping up the moisture that gathers around his fingers. Andrei hums in agreement, taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head at his teammate’s sinful work.

Once you’ve been thoroughly manhandled and maneuvered on top of Andrei and beneath Brady, sandwiched between the heat of their bodies, you let out another whimper when Andrei slides himself into your pussy. The feeling is familiar, unlike the sensation of Brady easing himself past the tight ring of your ass. He’s slow, steady, reminding you to breathe while Andrei rubs gentle circles on your waist with his thumb, pressing open-mouthed kisses at the base of your throat.

When you cry out, Brady freezes, waiting patiently for you to grant permission to keep going. As the unusual feeling subsides, you do, turning your head to find his cheek that you whisper a soft please against.

Eventually, Brady’s hips reach the globes of your ass, and both of them are fully sheathed in you. The breath in your lungs has vanished, replaced by everything them. Never in your life have you felt more whole, more complete; stuffed – literally – to the brim in a deliciously taboo way, completely and entirely theirs. With your face buried in the crook of Andrei’s neck, you beg them to move.

Brady’s hands grip your sides tightly as he alters his movements with Andrei’s. Push, pull, push, pull. Deep, hot puffs of breath hit you from both sides, encasing you between them. The feeling is otherworldly, delicious, and now that you’ve grown accustomed to feeling so full, you’re insatiable, crying out and letting the pleasure rake through you.

“Who knew I’d get to fuck this perfect ass again,” Brady muses, breaking the symphony of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

Filthy words and promises spew from Brady’s mouth, praising you and reminding you of the many times he’s brought you to a crest; meanwhile, Andrei whispers broken Russian as his mouth marks up your collarbone. It makes you whimper, hearing the way you wreck him, feeling the way he throbs inside of you with his hands gripping your sides.

“I’m –” you pant, “I’m c-close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come all over these birthday cocks?” Brady teases, leaning back to watch the way he splits you open, murmuring in approval at the sight. “What a good little slut, taking both of us on our birthday.”

It’s not until Andrei’s face scrunches up as he hits his own climax that you are sent spiraling into yours, the feeling of his warmth spilling into your core the catalyst for your own release. A loud cry escapes your mouth, calling a jumble of cuss words, eyes squeezing shut as you let the waves roll through you.

“Holy fuck,” Brady groans, “I didn’t think your asshole could get any tighter. Fuck.”

His voice is losing its edge, a little more breathy as he pounds into you, seeking his high. A few moments later he pauses with a loud grunt as he, too, climaxes. After a pause to catch his breath, throbbing wantonly inside you, he pulls out with another groan, followed quickly by a whistle.

“Svech,” he says, “Come here and look at this.”

Another maneuver has Andrei slipping out from beneath you, meeting his teammate’s side to gaze at your backside, dripping two sets of cum and surely looking thoroughly wrecked. In their absence, you feel so empty, clenching desperately around nothing.

Andrei hums before you feel his hand on your ass, pulling apart your cheeks to get a better look. He murmurs something in Russian, pleased.

You barely have a moment to register warm breath and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow before his tongue is licking a thick stripe from your clit all the way up to your ass, lapping up the liquid that’s drooling out of your holes. The sensation is euphoric, if not overstimulating, but he knows exactly what he’s doing to drive you just a little bit more insane.

Brady chuckles behind you at the sound of your whimpers, muffled only by the pleasured sighs coming from Andrei against your center, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you filled with birthday cum. He laps you up like a starving man, and you’re about to push him away when he’s parting from you of his own accord.

With Brady’s help, he flips you over so you’re facing them. Brady’s expression is smug, gazing down at you hotly—as if he didn’t just ruin you, and wants to ruin you again. Andrei, though, is looking at you softly, a sharp contrast to the way his face glistens with your juices. He licks his lips, and if you were standing, your knees would’ve gone weak at the sight.

With a nudge at Andrei’s arm, he grins. “Happy birthday, dude.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season

Glittery

A Night in Paris

Midnight Rain (blurb)

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #andrei svechnikov smut #brady skjei smut #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #andrei svechnikov blurb #brady skjei blurb #andrei svechnikov x y/n #brady skjei x y/n #andrei svechnikov imagine #brady skjei imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut

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starshapedkookie · 2 years

Text

At the End of the Day

summary: You and Jungkook have been best friends for 8 years, going through absolute hell and back together. After senior year of high school, you and Jungkook began a tradition of taking annual vacations together during the summer months. This summer is no different, with you and Jungkook celebrating graduating college just a couple months prior. You're set to move to NYC after the summer, with you and Jungkook soaking in the sun and as many moments as you can together. You'd think nothing could ever tear your friendship apart with him, but when you've sat on the beach for too many days in a row watching him surf, you can't help but wonder - when did your best friend get so hot?

➢ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➢ genre: high school friends to lovers, ex-baseball player jungkook, beach/vacation au, fluff, smut, a little angst

➢ warnings: language, angst, use of edibles, drinking, graphic depictions of smut (fingering, fem. receiving oral, light choking, dom-ish(?) jungkook, protected sex, obscene use of term baby) also i know that in the little mood board i created, the girl is a teeny white girl & i don't want to alienate any of my poc readers at all - i just thought these pics fit the vibe so take them with a grain of salt 😊

➢ word count: 13.3 k

➢ mini playlist: at the end of the day by wallows, satellite, late night talking, carolina by harry styles, no angel by beyonce, ICE (we should do drugs) by labrinth, unusual you by britney spears

posting this in honor of BTS' 9th anniversary. i think i will be sad about their hiatus for the next few days, but i know amazing things are coming for them. bts has saved me more than anyone could imagine - and this story feels like a love letter to jungkook. i hope you all enjoy.

∞

You’re secretly watching him through your sunglasses, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in your observation. The sun’s rays are hot and you should probably reapply your sunscreen, but you can’t budge in your chair. From this distance, he probably thinks your eyes are still focused on the open book in your lap but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You’re not exactly sure when Jeon Jungkook became so sexy. It was definitely a slow burn of growth and puberty overtime, still shocked that your best friend of 8 years looked like this now. Muscles covering his body; leaned out and defined just enough. His hair cut immaculately after a few rough stints of trying to grow it long the last two years of college. Multiple piercings in his ears and you can’t even get started on the eyebrow and lip piercing he’s gotten in the last six months. Tattoos—god his fucking tattoos—covering the entirety of his right arm; shoulder to hand. The only thing that remained the same about him was his goofy personality and lame attempts he called jokes.

When you had first met Jungkook, he was 15 and you were 14, only a few months younger than him. High school orientation is where you met to be exact. Perhaps out of privilege, both of you ended up at the same private high school—nationally ranked for its academics and sports. It’s not hard to guess what you were there for and what he was there. Jungkook was one of the shyest people you had ever met at the time. You’d later find out that he was scouted by the high school’s baseball coaches to join the program. He was skinny like a tree branch, had a black bowl cut, and a nose too big for his face. You don’t know exactly why the two of you ended up becoming best friends but either way, you were grateful that he was in your life.

It’s just now, your friend just happens to be insanely hot and more confident than ever. Like you’ve said, you’re not sure when this transformation happened or how you were able to ignore it for so long, but goddamn—

You quickly shift your gaze away from Jungkook as he begins to make his way back to your chairs from the water. Your focus goes back to the pages of your book—a contemporary beach romance—very fitting for your vacation to the beach this year. Jungkook makes his appearance as you’re adjusting your sunglasses, setting down his surfboard on the sand with a thump—a hobby he’s picked up in the last couple years.

You bring a hand up to further block the sun as you smile up at him, “How’s the water?” You ask.

A playful smirk slowly spreads across his face and you soon regret your words when he leans over you, shaking his head of hair like a dog.

“Jungkook! Quit it!” You yelp at him when the cold water its your skin, holding your book out to protect its precious pages. He laughs, clearly proud of himself—you having to make a conscious effort to ignore how his abdominals contract with each suck in of his breath.

“It’s alright, waves are pretty easy today,” he says running a hand through his wet hair to get his bangs out of his face.

“Just be careful out there, please,” you tell him like it’s a warning.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he pauses as he takes a long drink of water. “How’s the book?” He asks as he sits down in the chair beside you, throwing on his pair of sunglasses.

You gulp, almost not even hearing his question.

“It’s cute,” you say, book marking your page and setting it down on the towel that’s between you two, “Kind of repetitive though.”

He nods once before looking away from you, outstretched beneath the sun, “All the books you read are the same,” he chuckles, shoving his feet into the sand.

You narrow your eyes at him even though he can’t see you behind your shades, “I’d beg to differ,” you tell him, “Just because I like romances with happy endings doesn’t mean they’re all the same,” you defend yourself.

He glances at you, a smile playing on his lips, “Sure.”

“Fuck you Jeon, when’s the last time you’ve even read a book?” You challenge, “The last textbook you ever had to read in college?”

He makes a hum in not-so deep thought, “Probably,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes with a laugh escaping your lips. Though Jungkook doesn’t voice it, he likes hearing you laugh. “This reminds me of the first trip we took,” he adds in.

You hum in agreement, a small smile forming across your face.

Both of you then lay in silence as you pick up your book again, soaking up the sun and sound of waves crashing a few hundred yards away from you. Silence is never awkward between you two. It hasn’t been for years at this point. You enjoy his company enough that there’s no need to talk to each other constantly. You know everything about him and he knows everything about you—minus the minuscule crush you’ve developed for him overtime. It’s innocent really; Jungkook was your best friend, funny, attractive, and you talk to him nearly everyday. It would be abnormal if you didn’t feel a twinge of something beyond friendship with him occasionally.

At least, if you tell yourself that enough; you’d hope it would be true.

As you peak at him again over your sunglasses, he’s closed his eyes in relaxation, and you begin to think about the journey that’s led you to this very moment.

After you and Jungkook made it through high school, both of you happened to receive scholarships to the same university in the city. You on a nearly full-ride academic scholarship and him on baseball scholarship. Though right before both of you shipped yourselves off to university, you two decided to take an unplanned long, beach weekend trip back to his home in Busan. It took quite a bit of convincing for your parents to ultimately let you go on a trip with just Jungkook alone. Though after Mr. and Mrs. Jeon explained that they had two extra bedrooms in their beach house and you two were ensured you had to check in with whatever you decided to do, your parents caved. You’re not even sure you and Jungkook would call it a vacation now, but at the time, it was so fun. So fun in fact that both of you decided after that trip, you two would continue to take summer trips together after the school year ended.

Throughout your semesters at university, both of you worked part-time jobs despite your busy schedules to save up for your trips. Jungkook usually worked more hours in the Fall, given his baseball schedule in the Spring was more demanding. Yet you two somehow always made it work. The year after freshman year, the two of you went to Seoraken National Park for five days, hiking and taking multiple dips in the hot springs. After sophomore year, you both decided to save a little more and fly to Tokyo, though staying in the absolute most-dirt cheap hotel you could possibly find.

It’s after this summer where Jungkook’s life completely fell apart—every time you look at the scar on his knee, a chill is still sent down your spine. You remember the day so vividly—an open scrimmage in the Fall with the rival university in the city. Of course, you went to support Jungkook with your roommate Lisa, excited to see Jungkook officially play as captain—an unheard of accomplishment for a junior on the team. You’ll never forget the scream he yelled out as soon as he slid into the home plate, the opposing catchers cleat getting twisted up under Jungkook’s knee. He rolled onto his side, clutching his leg in agonizing pain as the crowd watched in shock.

Jungkook had torn his ACL and MCL, as well as multiple smaller ligaments and muscles in the surrounding area of his right knee. In a fucking scrimmage, he would say through anger, frustration, and tears. The injury was career ending and that was the only time you’d ever seen Jungkook cry in your years of friendship. Jungkook had gone from someone who was expecting to be drafted in the first or second round, to someone who had lost their baseball scholarship and a fucked up knee for the rest of his life. Jungkook almost didn’t even finish school after that, though through the pressure of his parents and you, he walked across the graduation stage with you less than two months ago. You were proud him, star baseball player or not, though you know it’s something he still struggles with to this day even if he doesn’t voice it.

After Jungkook’s knee had healed through physical therapy and other treatments, he ended up working more hours and working with little league teams in the city for extra money. By the end of the Spring semester, both of you had saved up enough money to where it was feasible to pretty much go wherever you wanted. You settled on flying to Europe, doing a two week excursion that was exhausting—but worth every penny you spent. There had been some squabble on that trip between the two of you and a third party, but the last thing you wanted was to think about that.

Now you’re sat on Jeju Island with him, enjoying every moment you can get with your best friend before your life changes forever. Through countless hours of working, volunteering, and two internships, you had landed a dream job of being an editor in New York City. You weren’t due to move until the Fall, but the prospect of not seeing your friends and family made you extremely sad. It’s also why you’ve realized that whatever feelings you’ve harbored for Jungkook, must be kept secret deep within your body. It wasn’t reasonable to act upon them when you would be leaving—you wouldn’t ruin your friendship and leave Jungkook here in that way.

“Earth to Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice knocks you out of your long reverie. You hadn’t even read a full page of your book as it’s still on the page you folded in the corner earlier.

“W-what? Sorry,” you snap out of it, turning to him as you put your sunglasses on your head.

“I said do you wanna head up soon? Make some dinner? Watch a movie tonight or something?” He asks. Your heart strings pull at the domesticity and you’re nodding before you even speak.

“Yeah,” your expression is soft, “Though you’re in charge of the cooking tonight. I’ve done it the past two nights,” you warn him.

He smirks, digging around his beach bag for his t-shirt to pull on, “Fine. Only if I get to pick the movie we watch.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” You pout. After he pulls his shirt on—which you’re thankful for—he reaches over to pinch your thigh in retaliation. You jerk in reaction, “Asshole.”

He laughs again, both of you beginning to pack up your things. Though you don’t voice it, you love hearing his laugh.

∞

Jungkook prepares a small array of yummy dishes—tteokbokki, a chicken stir fry, cucumber salad, and of course a side of kimchi. Neither one of you had been to the store since you two arrived to the island on Sunday, so there wasn’t much else to work with now on Friday. You make a mental note to create a new list and go again tomorrow, still having another week of your two week trip. The cottage AirBnB was small but had everything you two needed for the vacation. A kitchen, dining room, living room with a pullout couch (that wasn’t being utilized), a bedroom with a king bed which even had a small balcony that overlooked the beach. You definitely lucked out in terms of booking the AirBnB on the quieter side of the island, having most of the beach to yourselves the last few days.

“Excuse me?” You’re laughing as you look at Jungkook dumbfounded from his words.

His mouth turns up in the right corner as he smiles, “You heard me,” he remarks, “We should do drugs.”

He carries on his task of drying the pan he used for the stir fry, looking at you with a kink in his pierced eyebrow. You narrow your eyes at him, leaning against the counter as you watch him, fighting your own smile.

“And where are you going to find drugs on this island?” You say pointedly.

“Sweetheart, you know I have connections,” he retorts back, putting the pan back into his respectful cabinet. If there was another thing that Jungkook did to turn you on; his cleanliness. He was the most organized man you had ever met—unsure if he was actually part of the male species given the track record of your other guy friends. He was cleaner and more organized than you most of the time.

“You’re ridiculous Jeon,” your roll your eyes, “Can I trust said drugs?”

His smirk spreads even wider, knowing that he’s got you now.

“Of course, Yoongi wouldn’t sell me anything sketchy,” he says quickly leaving the kitchen. You have no idea who this Yoongi guy is, but you go along with it. You cross your arms as you lean against the counter, your eyes drifting off to the beautiful sunset over the water. You felt lucky to spend your time like this with Jungkook. He quickly comes back, a plastic bag in hand.

“What is it?” You ask him curiously.

“It’s a chocolate chip cookie edible,” he pauses, holding up the bag as he observes it, “Think of it as a two for one; dessert and a high.”

You let out a laugh through your nose, grabbing the bag from him as you inspect it from the outside. As with any edible, it looks just like a normal cookie. You purse your lips, thinking about it for a moment. You hadn’t got high in awhile—since right before graduation actually. You and your roommates shared a nasty bong, with Lisa ultimately keeping it after you all moved out. You and Jungkook had your fair share of getting high together, whether it be at parties at the baseball house or his apartment on Sundays with his roommate Taehyung.

You open the bag, sniffing it as Jungkook watches you, clearly amused. You break off a small piece of the cookie, plopping it into your mouth knowing it will take at least an hour for you to start to feel the effects of it. It tastes good, although there’s still that tinge of THC that never goes away fully with baked edibles.

You walk up to Jungkook, shoving the bag into his chest, “I’m going to shower,” you announce. He nods, biting his lip as you walk away from him, his throat feeling slightly clogged. He watches your frame as you disappear into the bathroom, calling after you quickly.

“Don’t use all the hot water!” He says from the kitchen, digging in the bag to take out his own piece of the cookie. Maybe this would help him clear his head from you.

∞

You’re giggling uncontrollably as you scroll through your phone, small cackles coming from you lips occasionally.

“Y/N stop! Give me that!” Jungkook reaches over, attempting to take your phone away from you, but his own laughter taking control.

You and Jungkook had decided to forgo the movie, opting to enjoy the balcony attached to the bedroom. It was well past 10 PM now, the sun fully set and a couple small candles and the lamps from the bedroom the only light sources. For whatever reason, both of you had been on a path of looking at old pictures of each other, you hysterically laughing at one of them from high school when both of you decided to go to the school dance together as friends. You were mainly laughing at the way he styled his hair, even then at 16 you thought it was ridiculous.

“I don’t even know why you still have that picture,” he mutters in defeat on his side of the couch.

You furrow your eyebrows at him as you push his leg with your foot. He’s sat up, right leg underneath him, head resting on his hand as he looks at you. You’re laying on your back, legs outstretched over his lap.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You push, “I think I have every known picture of you thanks to your brother.”

It’s the truth—you had more baby pictures of Jungkook on your phone than you did of yourself. He was just too damn cute and awkward. You and Jungkook’s older brother had a good relationship throughout the years, Junghyun, always making sure to send you gems of your best friend when he found them. They looked similar, though Jungkook pulled more features from his dad, including the big eyes and big nose, whereas Junghyun looked more like their mother.

“God I can’t stand him,” he groans running a hand through his freshly dried and showered hair. He’s wearing a pair of sweatshorts and a t-shirt, his tattoos disappearing in the darkness. You’re wearing a tank top and sweatpants, feeling much better since your shower, even better since your high has kicked in.

“This was a good idea,” you completely change the subject, not even really sure of your own words.

He smiles at you, “I’m full of good ideas Y/N.”

His smile make your heart thump, unable to keep your mind from going there. Your intrusive thoughts only took over when you were intoxicated. You stare at his lips a little too long before you look at your phone to change the song playing lowly from Jungkook’s bluetooth speaker.

The thing about being friends with someone of the opposite species for so long—it’s that your friends could barely hold themselves from being shitheads sometimes. It was sophomore year—right before Jungkook’s accident—when you were at one of the many baseball parties you attended throughout college. While you were drunk, you knew that succumbing to truth or dare was your own doing. You should have seen it coming from a mile away when a mutual friend and teammate of Jungkook’s—Park Jimin—dared you to kiss him. If you had been more sober, you probably would have just taken the bitch cup and moved on with your life. Though being drunk and a little too curious after your years of friendship with Jungkook, you turned to him and pressed your lips against his. He—along with the entire group seemed taken aback at your actions—hearing whoops and ooo’s during the kiss.

Neither you nor Jungkook spoke about that after the party. It was almost as if it had never happened. It didn’t bother you too much given you were drunk and being silly. It was a brief kiss, no tongue, but enough to satiate your curiosity. At least at that point in time. Now, your curiosity was getting the best of you in other feats—though you’ve sworn to yourself you wouldn’t ever cross that line.

“Do you ever think about life in like, ten years?” Jungkook suddenly asks, his gaze off to the distance over the balcony. From the cottage, you could faintly hear waves still crashing.

“Hm,” you mumble, “I guess? I don’t know…”

He looks over at you, “I do,” he says simply.

“What does the Jeon Jungkook think about then?” You press, deciding to sit up some on the couch. You grab a pillow to support your back as you settle against the armrest of the couch.

“I think about being married, having kids, that sorta thing,” his voice is low, yet serious. Through your hazy gaze, you bite your lip nervously.

“That’s very adult of you,” you try to lighten the mood with a giggle. He doesn’t laugh, only returning a fainted smile.

“Do you not?” He looks away from you sounding rushed and little nervous, picking at loose skin along his cuticles.

You suddenly feel a lump form in your throat, pulse uneasy, anxiety rises in your veins. Of course you did.

“I mean yeah,” you offer weakly, “I guess I’ve just always been more concerned with the present,” you tell him honestly.

He nods, fully understanding—it’s how he used to think too until his accident. He never truly had to put much thought into his future until that day on the field changed his entire life. His future was set and then suddenly it wasn’t. Now, he worries about his future everyday and where life is going to take him. He thought he was going to play professional ball until his thirties, making enough money that he’d never have to worry about a real job. Turns out, life had other things in store for Jungkook. And with you leaving thousands of miles away; his life really wasn’t panning out how he thought.

“I like the idea of marriage you know?” He says with a hidden adoration in his tone. You find yourself softly smiling at him. “Like just having that one person for you, sharing a life together, does that sound stupid?” he exhales heavily after his question.

You quickly shake your head, “Not at all,” you say pulling your legs to sit criss-cross, “We’ll all get there one day.. I feel like our paths are set for us.”

He shrugs, feeling a little pessimistic, “I don’t know,” he breathes heavily, “I thought everything was going to work out a certain way… but I don’t know anymore,” he sounds defeated and sad. You look at him concerned, though you’re sure he’s just spitting high word vomit. You know a lot about Jungkook, but you’ve never heard him speak of such things—except during his relationship with Park Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung was Jungkook’s first serious relationship in the time span you’d known him. They met at the end of sophomore year, but only officially began dating at the beginning of junior year. While Chaeyoung was beautiful and smart enough to make you feel insecure, you weren’t her biggest fan. She kept her distance from you and you don’t know if you could exactly blame her. You were Jungkook’s best friend who happened to be a female. You want to say if you were in her shoes that you wouldn’t care who was Jungkook’s best friend, but you’re not sure could 100% say that.

You first realized that Chaeyoung wasn’t particularly fond of you when you met Jungkook at the hospital after his accident; waiting to confirm his surgery date and time. Even though Jungkook didn’t want you to go, you were the one that actually ended up leaving to not make Chaeyoung uncomfortable. Throughout the rest of junior year, tension built between you and Chaeyoung, and some distance grew between you and Jungkook. You’re sure that she never knew about the kiss you two had shared the year before; she would have freaked the hell out.

Jungkook was in love with Chaeyoung though. He fell hard and he fell fast—giving all of his love and extra time to her. You can vividly remember him talking about how he thought she could be the one. He was a hopeless romantic at heart but it’s when Chaeyoung told him he couldn’t go on the Europe trip you two had been planning for months that he finally stood up to her. It didn’t go over well, with her jealously taking over to the point where he broke it off with her a couple weeks before you two departed.

You thought that the trip was going to be good for him to get his mind off her but when they were consistently communicating behind your back, that’s when arguments throughout the two week trip conspired between you and Jungkook. Finally, with four days left of your trip, he decided to stop contact with her and everything between you two only went up again from there.

Though right here, right now; you can’t help but think his words are about Chaeyoung. You knew that they were acquaintances this past school year and always cordial when they saw each other. You suddenly feel insecure in the dim light, but you plaster a fake smile on your face to rid your mind of Jungkook and his ex.

“Don’t sound so doom and gloom Jungkookie,” you push yourself up and over to him, trying to make him feel better. You sit on your knees up next to him, pinching his left cheek between your fingers. He giggles but you don’t stop, pinching from his cheek to his chin, to his ear.

“Y/N I swear to god—“ are his last threatening words that you should have taken seriously because it’s not long until you find yourself being tickled to death by him.

“Jungkook! Stop!” You laugh, trying to fight yourself away from him, but his grip is too strong as he keeps you in place against the couch. You’re kicking your legs to try to get away from him as he attacks your side with his own chuckles filling up the space. To any outsider listening in, it probably sounds like a fucked up murderer situation.

You don’t even realize what’s happened until you open your eyes fully, Jungkook pinning your wrists down, his body hovering on top of yours. He’s stood with one leg on the ground, his bad knee resting between your legs on the couch. It feels like the world has stopped as you stare into each other’s eyes, your breath hitching in your throat. Jungkook has to make a conscious effort to not stare at your cleavage rising up and down as you breath in and out heavily.

“I-I might go to bed soon,” you say nervously, breaking eye contact with him to unraveling yourself from his grip. He rises as you do to give you space, wiping his hands on his shorts.

He nods, “Me too,” is all he says.

You leave the balcony to go brush your teeth and change into your pajamas. Jungkook stays behind to blow out the candles and turn off his speaker, feeling a heaviness between you two now. As he turns the bed down, his own hands are clammy, his high waring off faster than he would like. Both of you had no issue sharing the king bed when you booked the AirBnB a couple months ago, but now he’s fully regretting that decision. When Jungkook comes back from the kitchen with two glasses of water for you both, he finds you already climbing into bed in your cute matching, purple PJ set.

“Thank you,” you smile at him as he hands you the glass. You take a sip, feeling cotton mouth arise from the edible.

He climbs into bed soon after, turning off the lamp on his side of the bed encasing both of you in pure darkness.

“Goodnight Y/N,” are his last words that evening.

“Night Jungkook,” you say weakly as you’re facing away from him on your side. While you two have already made invisible boundaries when sharing the bed this past week, you make more of a conscious effort than ever to keep space between you two as you both drift off into sleep.

∞

It’s been a few days since your edible escapades with Jungkook. Both of you have seemingly moved on from the conversations had, the tension that had built up subsiding over the next few days. Now you two are back again at the beach in your normal routine. Jungkook’s just go out in the water from surfing and you’re laying on your tummy, starting the second book of your vacation. You decided to go with something different for you—a thriller about a writer brought in by another author’s husband to finish her books for her as she lies in a coma. Weird.

You know Jungkook’s back from the water when you feel water droplets scatter across your back. You look up from your book to find Jungkook sat down on his towel beside you, rubbing his right knee.

“You okay?” You ask him with concern. His major surgery scar is still less than two years old, therefore it’s still quite white and reflective in the sunlight.

He glances over to you before nodding, “Yeah I’m good, it’s just kind of stiff from surfing on it so much.”

You can’t help but feel an extreme amount of sadness when you watch him massage his skin. Your resting your chin on your hand as you study him carefully. From the moment you met Jungkook, baseball was his complete identity. It’s why people came up to him even if he didn’t want the attention. It’s what taught him discipline and hard work ethic. It’s what made him happy. The fact it was taken away from him so quickly terrifies you. You can’t even imagine the internal battles he’s had ever since that fateful day.

“Swim with me?” He suddenly asks.

Through the top of your sunglasses you glare at him, a groan leaving your mouth, “Jungkook you know how much I hate swimming in the ocean.”

He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, “Y/N there aren’t sharks in this part of the ocean,” he laughs.

You close your book not wanting to lose your place, “You don’t know that!” You retort.

He laughs again, this time ruffling your hair slightly, “I’ll protect you…” he trails off, a small pout crossing his features, “Plus it’ll make this feel better,” he’s referring to his knee.

Ugh, he really knew how to convince you.

You then agree, both getting up at the same time. You adjust your bikini to which Jungkook stares shamelessly. Your skin goes hot and you pretend you don’t see him doing so. You walk side by side to the water, a yelp leaving your lips when you feel how cold it is.

“Fuck Jungkook! It’s cold!” You whine as he continues his descent deeper. You’ve stopped at where the water hits your ankles, he’s at his knees.

“C’mon princess,” he whines back and the nickname gives you butterflies, “I’ll drag your ass in here if you don’t move woman!”

“Ugh,” you spit, “I’m coming,” you slowly walk towards him as he continues to walk deeper until he’s about to his chest, finally letting himself float against the waves after he gets over where they break.

“Y/N,” he says threateningly as you’ve stopped where the water hits your waist.

“Jungkook,” you respond but suddenly your heart sinks when he dips his body below water, disappearing beneath the surface. Your eyes widen as you look around paranoid. You know exactly what he’s up to. Though you’re expecting it, you have no time to brace yourself when Jungkook has suddenly grabbed your leg, pulling you beneath the water. You’re screaming, bubbles escaping your mouth until you reach the surface.

Jungkook has broken the water only a few inches from you as he laughs loudly, tipping his head bad. You push water towards his face, anger filling your body.

“Fuck you Jungkook!” You yell, his continuous laughter pissing you off even more.

You launch at him in the water, hiking yourself up onto his back as punishment. You wrap your legs around his torso and he adjusts you comfortably. If he was going to protect you, he really was going to protect you.

“I really hate you sometimes,” you mutter into his ear, his back rumbling against your chest as he chuckles.

“You love me,” he retorts.

You really do.

“See this isn’t too bad,” he then says looking over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“We’re sitting ducks Jungkook,” you mumble, eyes looking around the water, still slightly paranoid. There’s a few other people in the water and a couple surfers which makes you feel a little better.

“It’s okay to get out of your comfort zone you know,” he raises a brow when you climb off his back, deciding to swim close in front of him. Both of you float with only a few inches between you two, water at your chests.

“Mhm,” you say sarcastically, “That’s what they all say before they’ve gotten their leg bit off,” you move your arms around to keep you wading. Thankfully it didn’t take long to get used to the chilly water.

He bites his lip as he watches you with an amused expression. You push away the way it makes you feel.

“You know that’s why I wanted to be your friend right?”

You furrow your eyebrows, moving to float on your back. Jungkook being the gentlemen he is, he ends up beside you, his arms giving your back some support in the water as you float.

“What do you mean?” You ask him.

You can’t see his expression as you’ve closed your eyes, the sun too bright to keep them open. His fingertips graze your skin every few seconds and you swear it feels like electricity running through your spine.

“You’ve always been the one to get me out of my comfort zone,” he points out like it’s obvious—though you’ve never had an inkling of this.

You open one eye at him in a squint, his face a lot closer to yours than you expected, “I don’t think so,” you laugh a little awkwardly as you give up on floating, settling back to your normal swimming position with him in front of you.

“I wouldn’t lie Y/N,” he laughs in return, “You’ve known me for a long time, you know how fucking weird I used to be.”

“Hey you weren’t weird,” you defend him, “Just a little awkward and going through puberty.”

He rolls his eyes, “Fucking weird,” he repeats, “I just mean I’ve never had a friend that’s always pushed me to do things I normally wouldn’t do. Hell just the vacations we’ve taken together is just one example,” he pauses, his next words cutting him a little deep, “I feel like you’re the reason I ever had a life outside of baseball.”

You bite your lip under the water as you don’t break his heavy eye contact. You’d never realize Jungkook thought that highly of you. It makes you feel giddy on the inside, but also a little sad that you were never that confident in your abilities as a friend. If anything, you thought Jungkook brought you out of your shell more.

“I’m just a small part of your life Jungkook,” is what you settle on.

They way his face falls doesn’t go unnoticed, “Trust me,” he pauses beginning a swim back to shore for you to follow him, “You’re a pretty big part Y/N.”

∞

It’s now Friday, which means you and Jungkook only have one and a half days left of your trip. The thought makes you sad, though you know that it’s not like you wouldn’t be seeing Jungkook afterwards. He lives in the same neighborhood as you for chrissakes. But given the loom of your impending move in a couple months, you couldn’t help but feel a finality of your life here coming soon.

You and Jungkook had gone out a couple times since being here, though neither of you had fully committed to getting too drunk. You had a feeling though that tonight you were ready to full let loose. Jungkook complimented you as soon as you were ready to leave, sending heat through your body. You were wearing a white two piece set—a small bralette type top with a matching mini-skirt that wrapped around your waist nicely. Your strappy heels gave you some height to Jungkook and you’re sure to any other tourist, you two looked like a couple.

Jungkook looked absolutely ravishing, the familiar lump of the past couple weeks forming when you laid eyes on him. He was dressed in an extravagant short sleeve button that was a yellow and white along with white pants to tie everything in. You almost laughed one, being you’re 99% sure the shirt is Fendi—how the hell did he afford that?—and two, you’re not sure you’d seen him in anything in sweatpants and t-shirts since graduation. Even then, it took you and Taehyung a lot of convincing for Jungkook to wear dress pants under his cap and gown.

You and Jungkook had ate dinner at a local sushi bar, getting a couple drinks there to pregame your evening. You don’t know how Jungkook ate and drank so much and keep the figure he had. It had to be genetics; there’s no other way.

It was now a little past 9 and both of you were feeling drunk—a good drunk—a happy drunk. The bar you two were at was partially outside, with a dance floor and good drinks. You and Jungkook are talking to a couple who also happen to be on vacation.

“Honeymooning is fun for sure,” the woman says, her words a little slurred, “Are you two honeymooning too?”

Both you and Jungkook begin to stutter, shaking your heads awkwardly, mumbling your words together.

“We’re not together,” you manage to get out as you lean against the bar for stability. Jungkook’s stood behind you, his chest touching your shoulder as his arm sits behind your frame protectively.

The new husband’s eyes widen, “Could’ve fooled me,” he says, “Right honey?”

“I agree Joon,” she eyes you up and down, clearly shameless as she does so. “Let’s go dance baby!” She suddenly exclaims. The couple—Namjoon and Camille—bid their farewells to you and Jungkook, leaving you two alone again at the bar.

You suddenly feel a little awkward under the strangers gaze, looking up and over at Jungkook. He’s giving them a straight smile before his eyes watch them walk away, an amused expression filling his eyes as he begins to laugh.

“You want another drink, honey?” He suddenly asks through a joke and you crack a smile, turning around to playfully push him. You catch a whiff of his scent as you stare at him intently, trying to ignore the deep stir of heat in your tummy. His gaze his vibrant as you take his sunglasses tucked from his shirt and place them over your eyes.

“If you’re paying Jeon,” you smile at him wickedly.

Jungkook orders both of you tequila shots, both of your faces scrunching up when you bite the lime for some relief. You have chills running down your spine, trying your best to keep the contents down.

“We’re going to be hurting tomorrow,” you say, sliding the shot glass back towards the bartender.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” he groans, suddenly reaching out to grab his phone. It’s buzzing in his hand, “It’s Junghyun,” he looks at you, “I’ll be right back?”

You nod, telling him you’d be right here. You watch as he walks away from you, a deep exhale escaping you. You’re intoxicated again—intrusive thoughts taking over your brain. You reminiscence over the last two weeks with Jungkook here. He makes you so incredibly happy and you’re sure that if you let yourself, you’d fall deeply in love with him—more than you already are. You’ve been through thick and thin together. You can’t let yourself go there though—it couldn’t happen. The friendship you two had between each other was too important to you. You’re not even sure Jungkook could even feel these feelings towards you. For all you know, he was just talking about his shitty ex the other day.

Your thoughts are interrupted when suddenly a man appears in front of you. A man that’s not Jungkook. He’s leaning his elbows on the bar as he waits for the bartender to take his order. He gives you a glance and you stare shamelessly. He’s quite attractive, that’s for damn sure.

“You want a drink sweetheart?” He suddenly asks, the pet name not sounding as good as it does coming from your best friend.

You find your voice over the music, “I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him knowing if you drink anymore, you’d be crossing the line of fun drunk to a miserable blackout.

He nods respecting what you’ve said, ordering two shots of whiskey for himself. You look around the bar trying to find Jungkook. It’s loud and crowded, but you haven’t been able to spot him in that ridiculous yellow shirt. You wonder what Junghyun needed that’s taking so long.

“What’s your name?” The strangers asks you as he turns his body to face yours completely.

You lean towards him some to save your voice, “Y/N,” you tell him.

A charming smile spreads across his face, “Well miss Y/N, why is a beautiful girl at this bar alone?”

You’ve dealt with many men of this caliber, so his words don’t creep you out much. Internally you applaud him for using the term beautiful, and not the typical hot or pretty.

“I’m not alone,” you tell him. He looks around the area you both are, your point not withstanding, “What’s your name?” You change the subject.

He downs his second shot of whiskey, “Jackson. It’s nice to meet you,” he offers his hand graciously and you shake it in return.

“Well Jackson,” you pause, feeling that tequila shot getting to you, “Why are you here at this bar alone?”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you, “I’m not alone either,” he retorts.

You nod slowly, a small smile spreading across your lips. Again, your eyes do another dance around the bar to spot Jungkook to no avail.

“Do you want to dance with me Miss Y/N?” He suddenly asks taking you completely off guard. You open your mouth then close it, only to open it again to say nothing. You should say no. You know in your heart you should say no. However with no sign of Jungkook and this Jackson guy seeming like a normal guy, you felt no guilt when you take his hand for him to take you to the dance floor.

The bar has great club and house music playing, making dancing an easy feat. Jackson is a great dancer, finding the rhythm to the songs easily as the DJ switches them rapidly. You find yourself comfortable with him, resting your hands lazily on his shoulders as he guides you through the motions. Maybe you’re too drunk, or you’re just relaxed, but you feel good in this moment. It reminds you of being a college freshman with Lisa, when you two would go to sweaty frat and baseball parties, dancing the night away with water bottles filled with cheap vodka.

The tide between you and Jackson folds when you turn around, unknowingly pressing your back to his chest. You both are swaying in the changing lights, his arms resting on your waist protectively, his head resting on your left shoulder. You’ve always been a decent dancer too, Jackson finding it impressive as you keep up with each other. When you find a hand gripping at Jackson’s hair pulling him closer to you, it’s when reality hits, time freezing in that very moment. You’ve opened your eyes after sometime, across the bar Jungkook walks in, his eyes finding yours instantaneously. His lips part, a painful expression crossing his features. He watches you only for a moment, his heels turning himself around to leave you be, heart feeling like someone’s crucifying it.

You suddenly panic, creating immediate space between you and Jackson. You turn around and lean up to his ear.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go—“ you tell him in a rush. He’s clearly confused but before you can listen to whatever he has to say, your feet pick you up to the path Jungkook must have taken to get out of here. It’s difficult to get through the crowd of people, especially in your heels and drunkenly, but you manage.

When you go to the outsider area of the bar, you don’t spot him. Shit, you think, where did he go? You start to panic, reaching for your phone out of your purse. You quickly scroll to his name, hitting the call button. You groan with an eye-roll—of course he isn’t going to fucking answer you.

You’re not completely sure he’s not in the bar anymore, but you chance it, leaving the bar alone. Thankfully the streets are well lit and there are plenty of people around to make you feel safe. You’re typing him a mean text as you walk back towards your cottage, ready to curse him out when you see him. That is, until you actually see him—then your mind goes blank.

Jungkook’s sat on the curb of a small, local convenient store eating what seems to be an ice cream sandwich. You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Jungkook!” You nearly exclaim, “What the hell are you doing?” You approach him, stumbling slightly in your heels.

He quickly notices how unstable you are, standing up to steady you, “You okay Y/N?”

You push him off you, “No the fuck I’m not okay,” you spit at him, “You just left me there?” You’re drunk and frustrated, that’s all you know.

“Here,” he offers the rest of his ice cream sandwich. You can’t resist him and you take it, eating it in two bites. He watches you carefully before saying, “Sorry, I just thought you were preoccupied.”

You throw away the paper wrapper, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Are you for real Jungkook?” You press, not caring if you’re bringing attention to the two of you as people pass by. He shoves his hands into his pockets, exhaling heavily.

“You want to go home?” He asks with straight lips. You cross your arms over your chest angrily, what the hell was his problem?

“Do you want to go home?” You ask him in retaliation.

He only looks a you a brief moment before nodded slowly. This conversation is seriously sobering you up faster than anything has ever before and nothing productive has even be said.

He turns around, “C’mon,” he says.

“What do you mean?” You ask him confused as he’s widened his stance, as if he’s ready for you to plow over him.

“Hop on Y/N,” he says, “And don’t even try to fight me on this. I know your feet are killing you.”

He wants to piggy back you home. You stay put, hands playing with each other awkwardly staring at his back. He glances over his shoulder and says your name again.

“B-but your k-knee Jungkook,” you say hesitantly. You knew Jungkook weight lifted and did enough cardio for him to live until he was 105, but the last thing you wanted was for him to injure himself again, especially because of you.

“It’s fine Y/N, I promise,” he says, “I just want to get you home.”

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, you try to jump as light as possible to lessen the blow to his body. He catches you gracefully, adjusting your knees in his hands. And home is where you two go.

∞

After you two walk into the threshold of the cottage—you insisting on walking the last little bit of the way—a parable tension that could be cut with a knife has settled between you two. You tried your best to talk to him on the way back, but his answers were short and uninterested. You only had remnants of your drunkenness left inside you and if anything, you were tightening back up, even angrier than when you left the bar.

Jungkook’s about to walk into your shared bedroom before you call after him.

“Wait Jungkook!” You say. He stops in his tracks, turning to look at you. His face is unreadable in the dim lights of the cottage. “What the fuck happened back there?” You ask him as you take off your heels, leaving them by the couch.

“It’s nothing Y/N,” he brushes you off, turning around to continue his path to the bedroom. Of course you follow him; he expected it.

“Jungkook, come onnn,” you press, “Are you that pissed that I was dancing with someone else?” You can’t hide your anger and frustration if you tried. This wasn’t fair to you. He had paraded girls throughout college— parading Chaeyoung for a year and a half in front of you—and you never said anything about it no matter how much it bothered you.

“Y/N it’s fine, can we just,” he pauses as he looks over at you, “Just drop it?” He’s taking off his rings and bracelets, your lip tucked between your teeth.

You make an unsatisfied noise, stepping closer to him, “No we fucking can’t. What’s your problem Jungkook?”

He leans on the dresser with both hands, his muscle definition showing through his shirt as he tenses up. His jaw clenches as he closes his eyes in deep reverie. You watch him carefully, knowing you probably should tread lightly given he’s pissed. But you know what? You’re pissed too. He can’t act like that with no explanation—that’s not fair to you.

“Junghyun called me about you, you know,” are his first words as he looks over to you.

“M-me?” You stutter, confusion lacing your tone.

He pushes himself off the dresser, though he keeps distance between you two. He suddenly runs a frustrated grip through his hair, messing it up slightly.

“You know, since you’re moving halfway across the fucking globe,” he sounds bitter, though deep dejection is mainly what you hear. You moving had been a sensitive topic with him ever since the interview stage happened with you months ago. It hurt you to speak about it with Jungkook the most. The thought of leaving him crushed both of you which is why neither of you had brought it up these past two weeks.

“He was asking me if I had done it yet,” he laughs sarcastically, “Of fucking course he was.”

You’re more confused than ever and you say his name in a whisper, but he continues.

“You know the other day when you said that you were only a small part of my life, that’s when it really hit me,” he pauses, “You really don’t know how much you fucking mean to me Y/N. You’ve been my best friend for so long, been there with me through so much of my bullshit—my accident, losing my scholarship, losing my fucking life—“ he inhales deeply and you suddenly feel dizzy, unsure of where this conversation has turned.

“—And now I’m fucking losing you and I can’t even be honest with you because it doesn’t matter,” his voice breaks off as he looks at his feet. You start to panic, a roller coaster of emotions pulsing through you.

You step towards him hesitantly, “Jungkook you can always be honest with me,” you grab his forearm, “I’m your best friend for fucksakes—stop with the hysterics and just tell me what’s wrong,” you plead with him. If your words weren’t enough, your eyes were giving a show.

His bottom lip trembles as he meets your gaze. You have adrenaline running through you as he moves to rest his hands on your waist, gripping the skin tight.

“I love you Y/N,” he says letting out a deep breath before he can second guess himself.

“I know,” you tell him, “Jungkook you know I love you too.. you’re scaring me—“

“No Y/N,” he shakes his head, “I’m in love with you—like fucking crazy about you Y/N.”

His words take your breath away, stumbling slightly as you can’t believe the words he’s saying. He’s what? Jungkook’s in love with you? You part your lips, unable to form sentences, shaking your head stunned

“You don’t have to say anything,” he looks down, his forehead brushing yours, “But I couldn’t let you move without telling you—I don’t know how long it’s been but it just happened one day and I haven’t stopped since.”

“Jungkook,” you finally whisper after some silence, your palms finding solace on his broad chest, “I-I don’t know what to say,” you pause looking up through your lashes. You feel like you could cry from the up and down of your emotions.

You both stare at each other, unsure of who is going to make the next move. You decide that it will be you.

“B-but when we talked the other night about the future and stuff… I thought you were talking about Chaeyoung,” you admit, feeling a little dumb now that this secret has been spilled.

Jungkook lets out a laugh, unsure he heard you correctly, “Y/N—what, no, I haven’t spoken to Chaeyoung in months at this point,” he pauses, his strong hands gripping your forearms gently, “I was talking about you.. it’s always been you.”

There’s a silence that falls; a war raging in your head as you go through as many memories as you can with Jungkook. He’s been there for you at any moment you’ve needed him and vice versa. You couldn’t imagine a life without him and right now—you’ve finally decided in allowing yourself to be honest.

“Y/N I know this is unfair since you’re leaving but—“

“I love you too Jungkook,” you interrupt him to which he responds with a mellow what, “I know that I’m in love with you Jungkook—I have for some time now, I just didn’t want to admit it.. I-I was scared and I didn’t know how to bring it up, fuck I’m sorry—“

You’re suddenly cut off with Jungkook’s lips covering yours. You instantly melt into his lips as your eyes close, your hands finding their way around his neck to pull him down to you. After a few moments, he pulls away from you, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Is this real?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips; all anxiousness leaving your body at once. You return a small smile, nodding in his delicate hold.

“Real,” you whisper back, chasing after his lips once again.

This time when your lips meet his, it’s more aggressive from each side, pouring out all frustration and built up pining over the years into it. His tongue opens your mouth wider and you sigh into him, tangling your fingers into his soft hair. His hands slither down from your waist to over your ass, pressing your hips into his.

You’d never thought kissing someone could feel this good. Your entire body feels aflame as you both discover each others mouths piece by piece. Jungkook’s walked you backwards against the wall, holding you up against it firmly as you both continue to kiss each other feverishly. You rest your head against the wall as his lips move from yours to your neck, your breathing intensifying as he kisses and nips gently.

“Jungkook,” you breathe heavily, as he places a kiss on your exposed shoulder, moving the flimsily strap to your top down. You get bolder with your own actions, maneuvering your hands underneath his shirt feeling his muscles tense under your touch.

His lips find yours again, “I wanted this for so long Y/N,” he mumbles against your skin as you pull him taut to you. “Remember sophomore year? When you kissed me for that dare?”

“Mhm,” you murmur in response as his hand experimentally trails its way up to cup your left breast, “How could I forget?” You tell him through a slight whine when he squeezes you through the thin material of your top.

He smirks against your lips, tugging on your bottom lip ever so slightly, “I was so happy when you didn’t drink that bitch cup,” he admits. You can’t help but giggle at his words, one of your hands resting on the back of his neck to hold him close to you, “And this is much better than that.”

You nip at his mouth again, “I agree,” you pause, your other hand playing with the buttons on his shirt, “Can I take this off?” You ask through your lashes; your voice soft and patient.

Jungkook emits deep groan from his throat, “Is this okay with you?” He suddenly asks.

You immediately nod, “Yes, yes, of course,” you begin your slow assault at his shirt buttons, undoing them one at a time.

He kisses your forehead, “Okay… I just,” he pauses, “I’m just a little nervous,” he admits as he grapples at your waist again, pulling you flush against him. He’s got a growing bulge in his pants, making your squeeze your thighs together.

“Why are you nervous?” You gaze at him with stars in your eyes, finding everything about him endearing and so lovable.

He rests his forehead against yours, “I don’t know I’ve just thought about this for forever,” he pauses, “I want you to feel safe.”

You smile sweetly at him, “I always feel safe with you Jungkook,” you tell him reassuringly. You lean forward, placing a kiss on his exposed chest when you finally undo the last button. You waste no time pushing the fabric off his golden skin, tattoos and all on fully display.

“When did you get so hot?” You pout in between his kisses along your neck and collarbone. He chuckles into your skin, his hands now exploring both of your breasts through the fabric.

“I’ve been wondering the same with you,” he kisses right between your cleavage, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of your top.

“Please—“ your breath hitches when the cold air makes your nipples taut as he drags your shirt away, “Have you seen yourself?” You’ve barely finish your sentence until Jungkook’s lips are wrapping around your right nipple, sucking and teething at the sensitive.

“Have you seen yourself Y/N?” He mumbles into your skin, paying attention to your left nipple now. “My pretty girl,” he breathes out pulling away from you, sending a fire through your veins. He grabs your hands and pulls you towards the bed not too far from the wall.

You straddle him as you reconnect your lips together, rutting against him as your hips grind down. A shiver of pleasure runs through you, a subtle moan vanishing in his mouth.

“Fuck,” he says, “Do that again, I like hearing you.”

You chuckle, kissing near his ear, “Make me,” you challenge. Jungkook bites his lip, the grip on your hips tightening.

Being as competitive as he is—it’s a challenge he’s willing to accept.

Jungkook is suddenly flipping you two over, settling between your thighs, tits shaking as you readjust yourself. You spread your legs a little so he can sit comfortably on his knees between you, his bulge more prominent than ever, straining in his white pants. Your mouth literally waters as his hands push up your skirt, exposing your skimpy little lace thong that’s barely covering your cunt at this point.

“Goddamn,” he gulps at the sight, his eyes flicking to yours quickly as your chest rises up and down in anticipation. You’re already so turned on—so wet just for him. If it was any other guy, you’d probably feel embarrassed but you were telling them truth when you said you felt safe with him.

His tattooed hand slides down to your inner thigh, a couple of his fingers running over your clothed heat. Your hips cant outwards as he does this a couple times before he decides to ultimately pull your panties off, leaving them strung across the room somewhere.

You hold his gaze as he spits onto his fingertips, now finding your bare pussy exposed for him in all its glory. He doesn’t waste time in dipping a finger inside you to test the waters. When your mouth falls open, he takes it as a good sign when you start to beg him for more.

“Jungkook please,” you push out your hips, trying to get the most of one finger though it’s no use. “I need more,” you whine.

He leans down, placing a kiss to your lips, “I know baby, I know,” you gasp when he adds in another finger, a steady strong of moans escaping you when he begins a gentle rhythm in and out of you. It’s torture the way it feels so so good, yet it’s still leaving you wanting more.

He gets a hold of your right leg, holding it up slightly so he can penetrate deeper inside with his fingers, his thumb rubbing up against the hood of your clit.

“Hold yourself open for me baby,” he says to which you obey, holding onto the side of your leg just as he was, “Good girl,” he praises you, which creates even more slick arousal.

From here, he takes one of his hands to pull your clitoral hood open, using his other to circle your bud and enter your pussy in alternating motions.

“Ah, shit—“ your hips jerk against him when you begin to feel yourself start to climb that hill to an orgasm. Your continuously moaning was sending him mad and your glistening cunt was a full invitation for him.

He shifts his weight, his lips meeting your center to which your back arches off the mattress, a strained whine from you as he flicks his tongue over your clit. It’s obscene the way he gives you head—it’s hot and messy, little to no friction as he goes from focus on your hole with both his fingers and mouth, to sucking heavily on your clit. You could feel yourself dripping on the sheets underneath you, the wetness making Jungkook involuntarily push his cock into the mattress.

“Jungkook—I’m gonna come,” you manage through your tight breaths.

“Yeah baby?” He muses against you, the vibration of his voice sending a shockwave through your already swollen clit. You nod desperately into the bed, holding his head down with your left hand as your hips chase to meet his movements.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” chants fall from your lips when you feel yourself tip over the edge, falling heavily into an orgasm that overtakes your entire body. You don’t even care if you’re loud as you moan and rile beneath him, your pussy clenching around his fingers before he pulls them out to watch your cunt clench around nothing.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he marvels as you come down from your high, your body clearly relaxed now as you find time to catch your breath. You lean up on your elbows as he meets you halfway to kiss you again. He tastes like you as he tongues the inside of your mouth carefully.

You scoot your body down some, hands finding the front of his pants. You can tell he’s big just by running your hand over his cock through the clothes. He inhales a sharp intake of breath when you squeeze him a little. You break your kiss to focus on getting him out of the fabric, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants quickly. You take notice of his white Calvin Kleins as he helps you push them down past his ankles.

In a rush, you tug down the front of his boxers—breath hitching in the back of your throat. He was big—the biggest you’ve ever seen—thick and long between his muscular set of thighs.

You whine when you take him in, never experiencing a want for someone so badly in your entire life.

“Can I please suck it?” You whisper, your words sounding like sweet saccharine to his ears. As tempting as that sounds for him, he wasn’t sure how long he would last with you, and he needed to be inside of your pussy when he came.

“Not right now baby,” he says firm in his tone, “I want to be inside you so bad,” he sounds just as desperate as you feel.

You nod quickly as you begin to take your skirt off since it’s still the last piece of clothing on you. Jungkook’s hands stop you quickly.

“No, no,” he chuckles, “Gonna fuck you in this pretty skirt,” he places a zealous kiss on your lips one more time before he suddenly gets up hurrying over to one of his duffle bags. He returns quickly and you watch carefully as you notice him tearing open a condom packet, his abs visible each time he breathes.

“You brought condoms?” You ask him curiously.

He smirks as he begins to roll it down over his fully hardened cock, “I’ve been bringing them with us everywhere since we went to Europe,” he explains as he instructs you to scoot back some. The thought makes you feel bubbly on the inside, laughing at him some.

“So you’ve just assumed that we’re gonna fuck one day then?” You ask him as he settles between you, rubbing his tip against your folds.

He closes his eyes briefly, before smirking again, “Never assumed, just hoped,” he lines himself up with your entrance, having to fight not to just slam right into you, “I’ll start slow okay?”

You nod as you grip behind his neck and shoulder with each hand. Once Jungkook begins to push into you, you literally forget how to breathe. Jungkook groans as he bites his lip in full concentration, pushing a little farther.

“It’s okay, breathe baby,” he encourages, “I know you can take it. My baby can take it, right?”

He knows very well you can—he just wants to hear you say it in your voice that’s laced in honey and arousal for him.

You nod faster that you ever had, “God, yes Jungkook I can, yes I can,” you finally find your oxygen as he pushes in slowly to the hilt. Your jaw was slack as his forehead rests against your own, a burning between your legs but pleasurable enough that you begin to involuntarily clench around him.

“Shit baby, don’t do that,” he warns, “This tight little pussy is all mine, right?”

“Of course Jungkook—“ he pulls back, then pushing back in, your hips canting upward to help him fulfill every inch inside you. “Oh my god—“ you whimper as he slowly begins to find his pace.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck yes, Jungkook just please don’t stop,” you beg, “Go faster, please.”

One of his hands grip your right hip, the other fisting the sheets by your head as he does as he’s told, picking his pace up slowly but surely as the seconds pass. Its blissful heaven having him fill you up so good. You’d never thought you’d be in this position with Jungkook, but as time passes you wish that you two had got around to it a lot sooner.

With each snap of his hips, your body moves upwards given force. A mantra of noises come from you as you watch his brows furrow from above you, strained groans and breathes escaping his lips. You could feel the simmering of another orgasm approaching you as his perfect stroke hits your g-spot. You grab at his face to steady him; his pace thrown off a bit when you lean up to kiss his lips gently.

“Let me get on top,” you whisper to him. He tugs on your lip, unsure if he wants to give up control but with you, he’d relinquish any day. He pulls out, leaving you hallow with you quickly pushing him off of you and down to the mattress. His back is rested against the pillows and headboard to which you grab with one hand, using your another hand to line yourself back up with him.

After you sink down, your arousal making it easy this time—you begin to find a pace against him that’s calculated to hit your insides in all the right areas. Jungkook grips your hips, pushing your skirt up slightly as he marvels up at you, drunk in a haze of you and you only. With uneven breaths, you can tell you’re on the verge of coming again, so he licks his thumb before he places it on your clit. Each touch of your hips presses firmly against his finger, explicative falling from your lips in a rush.

“God—Jungkook, I-I can’t,” you choke out, squeezing around him tightly as he begins to push his own hips up to meet yours.

One of his hands makes it way to your throat, pulling your forehead down to his as he takes the oxygen away from you. It’s too much—it’s all too much.

“Yes baby, you can,” he encourages, “My pretty girl, come with me,” he adds after he begins to hold you in place some, shoving his hips up in a brutal pace to chase his own climax.

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit, hit tipping backwards as you let out a half-scream of his name, jumbled together with high pitched moans. It goes on longer than your last one, convulsing around his cock as you lean forward in a daze.

Jungkook’s close—his lip tucked into his teeth, brows deeply furrowed as he continues his pace up inside you. With a bated breath, he announces he’s going to come and you encourage him just as he did you. He spills into the condom with a whiney groan in submission to you, his movements coming to end an end shortly after he rides his climax out.

He’s got his arms wrapped around your torso and you cradle him to your chest as you both try to catch your breaths. He lifts your hips slightly to let himself fall out of you, though he keeps you close to him after, looking up at you through a lazy smile.

You return one to him, meeting your lips to his. The kiss is gentle and love worthy as your heart swells so much it feels like it could burst for the man beneath you.

You pull away from him, “Can I take this skirt off now?”

He chuckles before nodding, placing a kiss on your shoulder before you move off of him to discard the final article of clothing on your frame. You climb back into bed after you throw on a slinky tank top and use the bathroom—a UTI was not going to plague you. Jungkook pulls on a pair of briefs, opening his arms up to you once he climbs back in. You cuddle up right next to him, an arm slung around his bare chest, leg over his as he pulls you closer with one arm. The two you mindlessly talk about nothing before you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. The last thing you recall is Jungkook placing a kiss on your head, telling you that he loves you again, leaving little to no space between each other this time on the bed.

∞

The bright sun is what wakes you up the next morning, a strained mumble coming from you as you stretch out on the bed. You’re halfway on your back, halfway on your side when you open your eyes. You rub them with your knuckles to clear them of any matter. When the room fully focuses, you freeze in your position, stomach dropping a little bit. Your head hurts from the alcohol but it wasn’t enough alcohol to make you forget what happened.

You and Jungkook had had sex and professed pining love to each other.

You quickly turn over to find yourself alone in the bed, your anxiety and cortisol levels skyrocketing. You also take notice that Jungkook’s not out on the balcony that connects to the room. You sit up a little too quickly for your headache, taking a moment to steady yourself.

You grab your phone off the nightstand, checking the time and any messages you have. There’s only a few that you decide you’ll answer later. Nothing from Jungkook.

You push the sheets and duvet off your frame, hurrying over to your suitcase to pull on a pair of shorts. You quickly make your way out of the bedroom, finding the living and kitchen space empty. Maybe he was in the bathroom?

“Jungkook?” You call out. No answer.

You suddenly feel like you’re going to get sick. Insecurity and all other horrifying thoughts cross your brain. Did he leave you here? Did he get scared and go home? Did he really fuck you only to leave you?

You feel like you could cry as you lean onto the couch for support. You hold back your tears, breathing heavily in and out to keep yourself calm.

Where the fuck—

The door to the cottage is suddenly unlocked, pushing open to reveal your best friend in all his glory. He’s dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, carrying a brown bag in one hand, balancing two coffees on his arm.

“Oh, good morning!” He flashes his million dollar smile at you as he sets down all of his belongings on the kitchen island.

You stand there with a pout, not saying anything to him. He looks at you slightly confused, walking over to see what’s wrong.

“Are you okay?” He asks with concern, grabbing gently behind your elbows.

You push at his chest with flat palms, “I thought you left me,” you whine. A smile cracks open as he laughs some.

“Why would I have left you?” He questions you, “I just went and got us some breakfast while you were still sleeping,” he explains.

“Well I can see that now,” you push back, “I just thought.. maybe you got scared and left,” you trail off, looking away from him now that you feel a little dumb for jumping to such horrible conclusions.

Jungkook pulls you in for a hug to which you return it like a kid grabbing onto their teddy bear tightly.

“I would never do that Y/N,” he says placing a kiss to your head, squeezing you playfully as he sways you dramatically, “I’m kind of offended that you think I would,” he then says with a pinch to your ass cheek.

“Ow!” You push yourself off of him with a laugh, “Sorry, it’s just,” you chew on your lip when you meet his gaze, “I don’t really know how to go about this whole friends to lovers thing.”

He pulls you to the kitchen so you two can begin to eat your breakfast. The coffee is great; just what you needed to cure your headache.

“It’s simple,” he says as he sits down beside you after he’s placed your breakfast sandwiches out.

“Is it really?” You push through a mouthful of food—gross you know, but Jungkook was the last person to care.

He quirks that pierced eyebrow at you that just drives you absolutely mad, “Hell yeah. We’re still best friends we’re just gonna have lots of sex now.”

You look at him stunned before you both are laughing hysterically together. Maybe he is right. Simple. As the two of you eat your breakfast, you can’t help but feel so very happy but also so very sad. The two of you have created a bubble of paradise and it’s going to burst as soon as you get back on the plane to head back home.

“Jungkook,” you say, turning the conversation serious after you both have finished your meals. He responds with a hm? “I’m still moving after the summer,” you bring it up hesitantly given how touchy it is; but there was no escaping and hiding from the truth. You were leaving; Jungkook was staying here.

He tenses up in his seat, pursing his lips as he glances over at you, “That’s another reason Junghyun called me last night,” he begins. You look at him confused, asking what he means, “I’ve been thinking about telling you about my feelings for so long Y/N, and I clearly have shit timing,” he laughs ironically, “But Junghyun has known for awhile now—I think before I even knew it but um,” he pauses, “He made me promise to him that by the end of this trip that I would tell you, so he was on my ass about it last night.”

You smile at him sweetly, resting your hand over his, “Well now you can tell him you kept that promise,” you offer.

His gaze doesn’t quite meet yours, “Yeah, but that’s not all,” he pauses as you listen to him, “I’ve been applying to jobs in New York,” he admits.

Your lips part as your eyes widen, “What?” You’re nearly breathless as you ask the question—feeling like Jungkook took a baseball bat to your chest. “Why would you do that?” You press.

He swallows heavily, “I just, I knew whenever you said you were going there that I just couldn’t not try with you,” he pauses, his gaze looking almost apologetic, “I didn’t want to be four thousand miles away from you so I panicked and started applying for jobs there,” he explains, “I don’t want you to be mad, and I’ve already talked to my family about it and they’re all okay with it,” he says in a rush, “I just didn’t want you to be alone there, whether I confessed my feelings to you or not.”

He’s chewing on his lip and you can tell he’s nervous. You turn over his palm so you can intertwine your fingers together, giving him a soft gaze.

“While this has completely caught me off guard,” you say honestly, “I would never be mad at you over this,” you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “Did you really apply to jobs there because of me?”

He nods a few times before he hangs his head low. You take your other hand and push his shorter fringe away from his face. While you’re positive many more details have to be worked out, that fact Jungkook made this decision makes you feel an amount of butterflies and love you’ve never experienced before.

“And you’d for sure want to be in New York?”

He looks up at you with those big doe-eyes that haven’t changed from the day you met him, “I’d go wherever you were Y/N. It could be the worst fucking place in world and I’d go there with you.”

You lean over, pressing your lips to his gently.

“I love you.”

He smiles in return, “I love you more.”

You pout some, “That’s not fair—no one is allowed to ‘love more’.”

He kisses you again gently as he pulls you from the bar stool to stand between his legs. His hands squeeze your ass playfully as you try to pull away.

“Well I can be the exception,” he leans into you, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You roll your eyes, a short laugh escaping your lips.

“You know what this means?” You ask inquisitively.

“What?”

“Lots of sex to be had,” you emphasis, “And even more of blowjobs.”

His eyes widen, his jaw slightly clenching and you swear he whines as he looks up at you, pressing your front to his crotch, “Can we start that sooner than later?”

You give him your answer through another kiss and moving your hands at the waistband of his pants. God, you think as you take in the already domesticated environment you two have made together, you could really get used to this. Jeon Jungkook was your best friend and at the end of the day—all you two needed was each other and somewhere to go.

4K notes · View notes

sydnikov · 1 year

Note

saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. “Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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jinwoosungs · 4 months

Text

{ 113 }

give me love.

akira kurusu x fem. reader

12 months to fall

general notes: unedited; both akira and the reader are in their 20s; the story takes place in roughly the south-eastern part of the united states (think north carolina, tennessee, virginia, etc)

{ caught in a river of records and dreams | oh, will you keep up with me? | everyone's looking for someone to hold | but i can't let you go... }

{ 2019 }

september

the fresh scent of autumn was in the air, and there was an excitement felt coursing through your veins. you were eager to start your first milestone here, your university life at the ripe age of 20.

your university was well-known, despite it being in the middle of a small town. it accepted thousands upon thousands of students each year, and you were proud to be one of them. the campus was gorgeous, and you found yourself being distracted by the various trees planted throughout it and they way the leaves changed colors. as you looked around, your breath was immediately taken away at the sight of a grand oak tree settled a few feet away.

it was as though you were drawn to it, the colors reminding you of a fiery sunset as you seemed to gravitate toward it without even a second thought. the moment you stood beneath it, you allowed your hands to gently touch at the orange leaves, not realizing such beauty could exist.

you were stuck admiring the tree for an unknown amount of time, becoming aware of someone who stood in your periphery. you said nothing to the stranger, just continued to admire the branches of the oak tree when a soft voice was heard.

"i did not realize it would be so beautiful here."

what caught you off guard was the faint traces of an accent beneath his tone. being filled with a curiosity, you look to your right to see what had to be the most beautiful young man you had ever laid eyes on.

he had wavy, ebony locks of hair and wore a pair of glasses that covered his stormy, grey eyes. he was tall and lanky, but you had a hunch that he was much stronger than he looked as you trailed your eyes down his form before looking back at his eyes. his full lips were halfway parted as he met your gaze, not once breaking eye contact with you, and the intensity of his stare was enough to make your cheeks heat up in response.

your heart was pounding, and you felt shy suddenly, unable to hold his gaze as you looked away from him. "y-yes, i've seen the leaves changing colors before, but not with such bright intensity."

you wanted to talk to this perfect stranger some more, but was cut off when your alarm went off from the confines of your bag. with a gasp, you hastily take your phone out to see the time read 9:00am, meaning you had fifteen minutes to get to your first class of the day.

letting out a tiny curse, you were about to say your goodbyes to this perfect stranger when he stops you, placing his hand on your wrist. "w-wait, don't go, i-i'm a bit lost and am unsure of where to go for my first class of the day."

you ask him what class he had, and when he says the same name of your first class of the morning, you gave him a wide smile and take a hold of his hand.

"that's perfect, we share the first class together then. come with me, i'll take you."

without giving it a second thought, you take a hold of his hand and interlock your fingertips together with his, unaware of the way the slightest dust of pink was seen settled against his cheek.

october

akira kurusu was his name, and you found out that he had come to your university as an exchange student, where he would spend a year learning about what being a student was like here in the u.s. he tells you about how he spent most of his life growing up in a small town and how due to certain circumstances, he had to spend his second year of high school in the big city.

when you asked him why he had to move at such an odd place in time, a strange look of discomfort fell over him, with akira telling you it was just something he had to do. his tone was closed off, and it was clear that he didn't wish to talk about it.

wanting to change the subject for his sake, you asked about his desire to come here to the states and was relieved when you heard him perk up once more. you spent some time enjoying a warm cup of coffee at your university's café, wishing to get to know akira better as he spoke about his interests. you felt awkward, trying to determine how akira wanted you to address him as, since you knew that in japan, many people referred to there peers by their last name. for the past couple of weeks, you have been referring to akira by his surname, but the strange glint in his eyes each time you called him kurusu made him feel too distant from you.

when you told akira about this concern, akira simply smiled at you, "you may call me akira, since i see you as a friend... well, my only friend here, really."

he was truly such a sweet and intelligent young man, telling you about how he held an interest in learning and taught himself english when he was a teenager.

you compliment him on his drive and how flawlessly he spoke. "seriously, english is a really tough language to learn, so i'm so proud of you and your hard work ku- i-i mean, a-akira."

you found yourself stuttering when you said his name, tasting it on the tip your tongue for the first time. akira's eyes widen the moment he hears you say his name, and you could have sworn you say a light tinge of pink against his cheeks.

seemingly embarrassed, akira lets out a cough before holding his cup of coffee, taking a sip of it so as to distract himself. he was acting a bit...strange- flustered was more like it. and with akira being so flustered, it made your own cheeks heat up in response.

"i-i'm so sorry, did you prefer me to call you kurusu instead-"

"no!" akira begins to vehemently shake his head, setting down his cup of coffee as a genuine smile paints his soft features. "i-i actually like how my name sounds against your lips..."

akira keeps his grey eyes on you while murmuring your own name in response, the syllables being enough to make your heart pound in response, not quite getting used to the sound of his smooth voice saying your name.

and it was in that moment that you realized you liked how your name sounded against akira's lips as well.

november

"akira sounds like such a wonderful friend, sweetheart. you should invite him over for thanksgiving!"

"m-mom!" something about her suggestion makes your entire face heat up in embarrassment.

you were nearly done with the semester, and thanksgiving break was only a few days away. after you completed your exam, you would be free to return home and enjoy the holiday with your family. but your mother's suggestion made you consider inviting akira along.

"you said that your best friend is originally from japan, right? so it doesn't seem likely that he'll go back home for just a few days. me and your father would not mind if you invited him over."

the offer was truly tempting for you as you chewed on your bottom lip, considering it. it didn't feel right to leave akira all alone when at least 90% of the school would be leaving to go back home to their families. just picturing akira all alone in his dorm room made your heart ache, and with your mother's permission, you figured having akira join you for thanksgiving would be needed.

you spend a few more minutes talking to your mother before hanging up the phone. going through your messages, you click on akira's name, the pad of your thumbs poised over the keyboard as you thought of what to say to him. as if akira himself had read your mind, you see a new text pop up from him that reads:

akira 🤓 📖 : [ hey, are you free right now? i just bought some hot cocoa for us! can i come over? ]

you 🌅 : [ YES! my roomie just left yesterday since she didn't have to take any exams. i'm all alone rn and it's kinda freaky here 😭 ]

akira 🤓 📖 : [ alright, i'll be over in a minute ❤️ ]

you felt butterflies erupt all across your abdomen upon seeing his little heart at the end, with you seeming to read his text over and over again.

you would be lying if you said that you hadn't developed a slight crush on akira kurusu. after all, he was just so soft and sweet. he gave off the aura of being the classic boy-next-door, and you wondered why he wasn't seeing anyone or was already taken.

recalling the moment you had studied with him just a few weeks ago, you brought up his relationship status out of pure curiosity (ignoring the fact that you were beginning to catch feelings for him) and was shocked to find out that he was still single.

"i was seeing someone when i was 16 and at shujin, but when i had to move back home, we had to end it. we're still on good terms though, and i consider them to be a great friend to this day!"

the familiar sensation of butterflies was felt coursing through you at the thought of akira being single, making you feel like you truly had a chance with him. however, a part of you was reluctant to truly tell him how you feel, not wishing to destroy this perfect friendship you had already developed with him.

so despite how you felt, you held back your feelings for him, wanting to cherish what you already had with such a sweet guy like akira.

a sudden knock at your door breaks you out of your prior reveries pertaining to akira, with you alerting your guest that you were coming. with an excited bounce in your step, you unlock your door to see your goofy and cheerful best friend holding up two warm cups of hot cocoa with a warm smile on his face before coming in.

"hey tr- i-i mean..." akira coughs, clearing his throat before referring you to your name. the strangeness of it all was enough to make your head tilt in question, but you ultimately decided against it. with a smile on your face, you take the hot cocoa from akira's hands while taking a sip of it. with you sighing dreamily at the taste, you beckon akira to follow you before settling yourself on the couch.

you fall into easy conversation when akira joins you, being so comfortable around each other that you had no reason to hide your true self from him. as you listened to akira speak, you felt the burning sensation creeping up against your throat.

you really wanted to ask akira if he would join you for thanksgiving, but you weren't sure if he would accept. he seemed like a very reserved person, and you didn't wish to scare him off with the plethora of family members that were bound to be in your home. but at the same time, you didn't particularly enjoy the thought of akira being all alone, either.

a soft voice calling your name coupled along with a hand being waved in front of you breaks you out of your thoughts as you see akira looking at you with concern. "are you okay? you seem out of it. is something bothering you? you know you can always talk to me about it."

the reassuring smile on akira's face was what finally gave you the courage to ask him. so, taking a deep breath, you clenched your eyes shut and told him, "m-my parents said that this was okay, but, if you can, would you like to come back home with me and spend thanksgiving with me and my family?"

the silence seemed deafening, and you were still feeling too anxious to open your eyes and meet his gaze. only when you heard the melodious sound of his laughter did you open your eyes.

the expression akira was giving you was making your heart race, with his eyes looking at you with such fondness that you found it harder to breathe. his gentle chuckle continues on for a few more seconds before he leans forward, reaching out a hand to softly grace at your cheek with the back of his hand.

"are you sure i won't intrude on your time with your family?"

you shake your head in response, feeling as though the air was sapped from your lungs the moment you witness his smile once more.

"then... if you'll have me, i don't mind spending thanksgiving break surrounded by you and your loved ones..."

december

letting akira experience thanksgiving at your household was a bit chaotic, yet so much fun at the same time. during the entire day, your parents and extended family welcomed your friend with open arms, and they had a blast learning about his culture with akira doing the same.

you were incredibly happy that akira enjoyed a lot of the foods that were piled high upon his plate, and the amount of leftovers that were still available the next day. it was so refreshing to see akira smiling so much while genuinely having such a great time.

after your finals were completed during the second week of december, you were shocked to find how quickly time was passing by, with your first semester already completed and christmas just a few days away. your parents had decided to spend the holidays up north where your grandparents resided, and you decided to stay back and spend it with akira.

when you broke the news to your mother over the phone, she seemed to understand why you wished to spend some time with akira and not leave him all alone on christmas day. she tells you how sweet he was and that she was happy for you, which in turn made you break out into a wide grin when you told her that you were only just friends with him.

yet the slight trill heard in her laughter let you know that she did not believe a single word that you said.

but truth be told, you didn't believe yourself, either.

when you told akira that you would be staying on campus, too, he gave you the brightest smile while giving you an unexpected hug. you could feel your eyes widen, taking in the scent of his cologne mixed in with coffee and something slightly spicy and sweet, like cinnamon, while returning his hug.

after a few seconds, he lets go of you while placing his hands on your shoulders. "that means we can spend christmas in my dorm. when midnight hits on the 24, come on over and we can celebrate together."

akira's excitement was palatable, and you found yourself smiling along with him while giving him an eager nod. "yes, i'll come over when midnight hits. should i make anything, or...?"

akira shakes his head before giving you a tiny smile. "there's no need, i've got everything covered. all you need to do is come by my dorm at midnight, got it?"

"got it."

you and akira still spent some time together up until the day before christmas. because he wanted to 'surprise' you, you did not get a chance to see him today, which gave you some time to wrap your present for him.

for some odd reason, akira had a deep fascination and love for arséne lupin, the gentleman thief. he often told you that his interest in learning english was to read the translated works of maurice leblanc, and that the surname leblanc held a deep meaning for him. so before finals began, you explored your local bookstore and was excited to find a leather bound copy arséne lupin, gentleman burglar.

knowing that this was the perfect gift for akira, you began wrapping the novel with a wide smile on your face. as you continued to wrap his gift, you slowly began to realize just how deeply you felt for akira, and the feelings you harbored for him were beginning to morph into something stronger than just a mere crush.

you were beginning to fall for him... hard.

once the present was completely wrapped, you looked at the time on your phone to see a text from akira:

akira 🤓 📖 : [ hey, so good news! i already completed my preparations. do you want to come over right now? ]

you found yourself smiling as you looked at the time on your phone.

you 🌅 : [ it's only 8pm. isn't it a bit too early?? ]

akira 🤓 📖 : [ yeah, i know lol but i really want to see you right now... ]

your heart was felt palpitating again, filling you with a warmth after seeing akira's text. as you chewed on your bottom lip, you began to grin before replying:

you 🌅 : [ i'll be there in 10 minutes. ]

akira 🤓 📖 liked your message.

since it was a bit cold outside, you threw on some tight fitting sweats along with a shirt and your favorite sweater, completing the look with your worn converses as you grabbed your bag and akira's present. placing the present within the confines of your bag, you fix your hair and grabbed your keys before making your way towards his dorm.

arriving in just a few minutes, you knock on akira's door, hearing some shuffling from behind as it opens just a few seconds later, revealing akira himself.

his face seemed flushed as he let out a breathless sigh of your name, welcoming you inside as he quickly beckons you to come closer. "here, come in and warm up. i've already got some dinner ready, too."

"oh wow, did you make me some curry? or omurice?" you giggle, taking off your shoes as you admired the cute cut out snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and the string of christmas lights strewn throughout the apartment.

as you admired the decorations, your eyes trail down towards the dining room table to find a bucket of fried chicken and a pure white cake settled on top of it. "what? fried chicken and cake?" you begin to giggle as you set your bag on the couch before following akira into the kitchen as he grabbed some plates.

although you knew that both of these foods were delicious, you wouldn't say that this was your typical christmas eve / christmas day meal. yet akira seemed excited all the same, "oh trust me, back home, when me and my old friends are able to spend christmas together, we would eat this and just have a good time."

the eagerness heard in his voice makes you smile, and you take one of the plates before settling yourself across from him on the table. you take some pieces of chicken while akira does the same, biting into it as you moaned at how good it tasted. "hmm, maybe you're on to something, akira. having fried chicken on christmas eve is pretty tasty."

"right? truly, i can't get enough of this."

you spoke to akira about his friends and family, and despite how he seemed to share so many fond memories with them, you could sense that he was keeping something hidden from you, something that would make his stories feel a bit more complete.

even though you held some suspicions about what akira was telling you, you allowed it to slide again since you were certain that if he wanted to tell you more, then he would do so when he was ready. you weren't going to be a bad friend and demand things from him that he wasn't ready to give.

after your delicious dinner of fried chicken, akira shares a thick slice of cake with you as you enjoyed how soft and fluffy it was. the frosting was addicting, and you were filled with so much happiness that you wanted akira to feel the same.

"hey aki?"

"hm?" akira looks away from his cake to see you getting up to take your bag. as you rummage through it, you brought out akira's gift. the two of you were completely silent as you sat back down and slid the gift across the table for him to take.

"i-it's not much, but today has been so much fun that i...i wanted to do something for y-you, too."

you watch with bated breath as akira takes the gift and carefully unwraps his. his fingertips work meticulously, and it was as though he didn't wish to tear apart the wrapping as he slowly revealed the leather bound copy of arséne lupin, gentleman burglar.

his grey eyes displayed no emotion, and you were afraid that he hated your gift. your heart was torn now, reaching out to him when he suddenly stands to walk away from you.

an iciness was felt coursing through your veins, and you felt the contents of your food swirling within your stomach, making you nauseous. your breathing became labored and you swore that you wanted to do nothing more than to get out of here, to run far away as you possible could-

yet that impulsive sensation dissipates into thin air when akira comes back with his own wrapped gift in his hands. he says nothing, simply returning to his seat settled across from you before sliding the present towards you.

all you could hear was the blushing rushing through your head as your shaky hands take the present. with careful movements, you unwrap the gift to see a slender velvet box settled on the palm of your hand. as you open up the box, you gasp upon seeing a glittering silver necklace with a snowflake pendant glimmering beneath the light.

"a treasure for my treasure." akira's voice was suddenly heard directly beside you, and you watch as his slender hands take the necklace out of the confines of its box.

you tried to keep your breathing even, yet you couldn't stop your heart from racing within your chest. you were becoming flustered, and when akira finished fastening the necklace around your neck did you finally turn around to look at him.

he wore a wide smile before leaning down closer to you. "c-can i kiss you?"

you could only manage a nod, sliding your eyes shut when you felt akira's soft lips press against yours in an achingly gentle, but sweet kiss. your first kiss with him wasn't demanding or forceful, but something that was soft and oh so giving.

after sharing a few more kisses with him did akira finally rest his forehead against yours.

while shakily saying your name, he asks, "will you be... mine?"

you would be a fool not to accept his confession.

january

time truly does go by so fast when you're having fun-

or when you're in love.

the moment you and akira became a couple on christmas eve was the best moment of your life. you had been so drawn to akira from the start and you were truly floating on cloud 9.

despite his departure looming above you, you decided to ignore such feelings of dread the moment akira must return back to japan in august. all you wanted to do was bask in the moment and spend as much time as you could with akira.

it was the evening after your first day of classes, the start of your spring semester when akira came over to your dorm to watch some movies with you on your laptop. you had a quick meal of instant ramen and put on a light, comedic film to enjoy.

you could feel akira cuddling you from behind, playing with your strands of hair briefly before softly calling your name.

"do you still want to know why i spent a year at a different school?"

you furrow your eyes a bit, reaching over towards your laptop to pause the movie. wanting to give akira your full attention, you turn around so that you were facing him, eyes glimmering with love while giving him a nod.

"yes, of course. if you trust me enough to talk about it, then yes."

he sighs before placing a kiss against your forehead. "i was sent to a different school because i was put on probation for a year, and my old school had kicked me out due to my then... criminal record."

your eyes were wide at this point, not believing that someone like akira could ever have a criminal record. akira knew what you were thinking and decided to hold you even closer to him. "i know i know. it's crazy, right? but all i wanted was to help her."

he then tells you the reasoning for his arrest, which involved a corrupt politician forcing a woman to go home with him. he didn't want the woman to do something that made her uncomfortable, and when he tried to move the man away from her, he fell due to his inebriated state.

because he was so powerful, no one believed akira when he told the cops the man had fallen by himself and was promptly arrested on the scene. you hear the way akira's voice cracked, knowing how traumatic it must have been for him as you slowly reached out to comfort him.

"oh, akira... i'm so sorry. it must have been so hard on you..."

you feel akira embrace you tightly while letting out a humorless laugh, "trust me, treasure, i've been through so much worse."

not wanting akira to be in pain, you gently frame at his face, making him face you as you could see the tears glimmering within his grey eyes. not saying a word, you leaned in to kiss him, tasting the saltiness of his tears against your lips, allowing akira to cling to you for comfort.

february

you never believed in celebrating valentine's day...

that is, until now.

you knew that it was customary in japan to make chocolates to display your romantic interest in a boy, but would it hold the same meaning if you were already in a relationship with akira?

in the end, you decided that it didn't matter, that as long as it made him happy, then you'd do something as ridiculous as making homemade chocolates for the first time just for him.

after sending akira a text that you were busy doing a project with one of your classmates (a complete lie), you spent the whole day gathering ingredients to make some chocolates for akira on this special day. while everyone else was spending it by going out to a dinner and a movie, you wanted to give akira a more traditional experience.

he told you valentine's day was kind of a big deal back where he was from and that there were many ways to celebrate it. anyone could celebrate valentine's day in either a platonic or romantic manner.

when you teased akira, asking if he got a lot of confession chocolates back when he was younger and you saw the way his face lit up in a blush was when you began laughing before kissing his cheek, commenting on how cute he was when he suddenly tackled you to the couch and began littering your face with kisses.

with the memory of that day fueling you, you put your entire heart and soul into the chocolates, following the recipe you found to the best of your abilities. a few hours later, you were able to make a decent amount of chocolate squares before individually wrapping them in cellophane and ribbons.

"whew." by the end of it all, you were sweating a bit, looking down at your basket of chocolates wrapped in a variety of different colors. it sure looked pretty, and you just hoped that it tasted even a little decent.

wishing to surprise akira, you take your basket and begin making your trek towards akira's dorm. with your heart pounding in anticipation, you knock on his door, hoping that his roommate was out and that you could spend some time with akira.

within a few seconds, you saw the door unlock with akira giving you a shocked expression. "i thought you had to do a project?"

you shake your head while holding up the basket of chocolates for him to take. "happy valentine's day, akira!"

he takes the basket of chocolates with an awed expression on his face, and you were in the midst of explaining, "now normally, i don't celebrate valentine's day at all, but i figured this would make you really happy. so, i tried to make some homemade chocolate and-"

you were cut off when akira takes a hold of your hand and crashes his lips into yours, kissing you with such fervor that it takes your breath away.

even if your chocolates may not be as sweet as you wanted it to be, akira's kisses made up for it by far.

march

akira 🤓 📖 ❤️ : [ meet me at our usual cafe, i have a surprise for you. ]

today was march 14, and you had just got out of your last class for the day when akira texted you. excited to see him again, you tell him that you were on your way and began walking toward the café with a bounce in your step.

upon entering the café, you saw akira settled on one of the tables in the corner and immediately went over to greet him. he sees you and takes you in his arms, giving you a quick kiss before gesturing at you to take a seat.

"i've got a surprise for you." he slides your favorite drink over to you, and you took a sip while basking in the warm flavor of your favorite coffee.

"mhmm, go on."

"you know the planetarium exhibit that just opened recently? well, i got us some tickets for it." akira was brimming with excitement now, completely and utterly excited for your date.

"wha- no way! that's so amazing aki! i've been dying to see it, too!" you talk about the rest of your plans for the night before akira quickly ushers you out of the café, "come on, let's get ready together, and we can enjoy our date."

with one last kiss, you tell akira that you'd meet him in the next couple of hours before heading back into your dorm to get ready. deciding to take a quick shower, you do so and make sure to clean yourself thoroughly, wanting to feel refreshed during your date with akira.

when you were done with your shower, you kept the towel wrapped around your body as you rummaged through your drawers and closet for something cute to wear. your roommate heard you pacing back and forth in your room and decides to check on you.

she knocks on your wall, catching your attention while smiling at you. "hey there, what's gotten you so jittery?"

"akira just planned the cutest and most thoughtful date for us, and i'm having trouble deciding what to wear."

you listen as your roommate lets out a hum, looking through your closet before picking out a single article of clothing. one by one, she settles the pieces on your bed before gesturing her hand out, "there we go, i think if you go with this style, it would suit you extremely well."

she gives you a wink before heading out of your room, "have fun on your date, and you can thank me later!"

you look down at all the clothes your roommate had chosen for you, only to realize that she was right-

this style was perfect for your date tonight.

you would definitely need to find a way to thank her someday.

{ ... }

when it was time for your date with akira, you met him outside of the café while dressed in the outfit your roommate had picked out for you. he seemed stunned upon seeing you for a brief moment before snapping out of it. "you look ravishing, my love."

akira meets you halfway to press a kiss against your lips, earning the widest smile from you. you wrap your arms together with his, remaining close to him as you both made your way towards the planetarium.

the walk was uneventful, but calm, with a small crowd forming outside of the building. you stood in line with akira, remaining close by his side as you rested your head against his shoulders, ready to enjoy this night with your beloved by your side.

{ ... }

after exploring the planetarium exhibit, you were left in a dreamlike state, completely mesmerized by all the beauty the universe had to offer. it was incredible to be surrounded by a sea of stars, and you were so happy akira shared this experience with you.

before you left the exhibit, akira told you to wait for him and that he'll be back in a moment. you give him a nod while standing off to the side of the exit, not questioning where akira needed to go as you browsed through your phone to pass the time.

about ten minutes later, you saw akira approach you, and that's when you lifted you head while letting out a gasp.

settled within akira's arms was a grand bouquet of roses that held a plethora of colors as its petals. a wave of emotion goes through you upon seeing the bouquet of rainbow roses, the sight so lovely that your heart ached.

"a-akira..."

"happy white day, treasure. you've made me so happy on valentine's day that i knew i had to do something equally amazing, just to show you how much i love you."

you gasp upon hearing those three special words, hands shaking as you reached out to take the bouquet or roses from his grasps. with tears streaming down your face, you grip akira from the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as you shared yet another kiss to celebrate this amazing night.

when the need for air proved to be too much for you, akira pulls away while gently caressing at your cheek. he places one final kiss against your forehead before taking a hold of your hand. "come on, let's enjoy our night together and have some dinner. i reserved a place and would really like to try it..."

you were so incredibly happy, hugging your bouquet or roses close to you while praying that this night would never end.

april

the semester seemed to take a turn for the worst as you began to feel even more stressed out than usual with your upcoming finals as you struggled to stay afloat while amidst all the assignments.

it felt as though you were drowning, becoming so overwhelmed with everything you had to do before your spring semester ended.

and this afternoon was no better for you.

as you tried to look through your notes while typing out your study guide for one of your classes, you felt a sharp pain at the front of your head. you could feel the pinpricks of a migraine beginning to form, and you were so tired and stressed- but you needed to get this done.

letting out a shaky sigh, your hands were poised against the keyboard of your laptop once more, ready to continue typing when a sudden presence standing in front of you stops you.

"akira? what are you doing here?"

he says nothing, simply closes your laptop shut as words or protests begin forming against your lips. before you could say a word, akira ends up taking you away from your laptop and textbooks, leading you back to your room and on top of your twin sized bed.

it was a tight fit, but akira manages to lay in bed with you, holding you against his chest while gently playing with the strands of your hair. "your roommate texted me, telling me how much you were practically killing yourself with your studying."

"ugh, she's being dramatic." you groan while burying your face within his chest. "i just... have so much to do and so little time. i can't afford to-"

"you need to rest, love." akira brushes his lips against your hair, "and i will not take no as an answer."

"but-"

akira then pulls away from you, placing his lips on yours, successfully silencing you with a kiss.

"no buts, either. this is the plan... you are going to take a much needed nap with me, and when we wake up, i'll order some takeout, then we'll study together, okay?"

"okay..." was your weak reply, letting out a yawn as you fell against him, allowing your heavy eyelids to finally close. with the exhaustion felt coursing through your veins, you shut your eyes and bask in akira's warmth, feeling all of your stress melting away whilst in his arms.

may

akira's birthday was coming up, and you wanted to surprise him with a scrapbook of some sort, one that contained all of his beloved memories.

akira had no idea what your plans were, and he was currently away from his dorm to work on a group project at the library. he trusts you enough to leave you alone in his room, and you were happy for that fact.

but you wanted to make something as a type of memento for him. you had already printed out most of the pictures you had saved on your phone, but wanted to include some pictures he had of him in his hometown, if at all possible.

as you were rummaging through his room, your eyes fell onto his desk as you opened a random drawer. in it, you were surprised to find what looked like a diary with a bunch of pictures and online articles settled beneath it.

you open the diary, but could not make sense of anything that was written due to the fact that it was entirely in japanese. with a shake of your head, you place the diary to the side and look through the stack of papers beneath it.

in it, you could see a few printed pages of what appears to be an online forum called the PHAN-SITE. you caught a few other english phrases here and there, but the vast majority of it was in japanese. fueled by curiosity now, you continue rummaging through before coming across a few pictures that depicted the same group of people.

upon seeing akira standing amidst what you assumed to be his friends, you pick up the picture to admire it. they seemed to be standing in the middle of the city, and a black cat was seen settled on akira's shoulders as they were all smiling at the camera.

keeping the picture to the side, you saw something else that catches your attention. it was another article that you couldn't make out and read, yet it was the grainy, black and white photo that caught your attention.

picking up the article to get a better glimpse of the man in the picture, you saw the familiar waves of messy, black hair with a bird-like domino mask that covered his eyes. your heart was racing as goosebumps were felt all across your skin.

your hands were shaking now as you trailed your eyes over to the bolded letters settled at the top of the page.

THE PHANTOM THIEVES OF HEART STRIKES AGAIN!

the headline was enough to make you feel a bit unsteady, landing on akira's bed as you stared blankly at the online article. you were well aware of this strange phenomenon, of corrupted adults in japan having their lives changed because of this strange group of thieves.

you always found it odd that this phenomenon only occurred in japan, and was even becoming excited at the thought of the phantom thieves coming here. they were all everyone was talking about, even yourself.

so, why did akira have so many articles pertaining to them? was he once an avid fan like you were?

or could he possibly be-

that was when an epiphany hits you, with you realizing that perhaps, akira was once part of the phantom thieves of heart. you did a double take and look back at the picture featured on the article, and it was no denying of the fact that this had to be akira back in his youth.

why else would he hold on to these articles?

"hey treasure, i'm home. sorry if i kept you...waiting?"

the moment akira sees you holding on to one of the articles pertaining to the phantom thieves, he takes quick strides and rips the page out of your hand, nearly giving you a paper cut in response.

akira does not meet your gaze, and you could feel the guilt coursing through your veins at upsetting him. "i-i'm sorry, i was just trying to find hints on what to get you for your birthday and i got... carried away."

your boyfriend appeared to be close to breaking down, unable to meet your gaze as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"i... i really was going to tell you... i didn't want you to find out like this."

you stand back to your full height while brushing back his strands of hair, revealing his grey eyes to you. "you can trust me; you can tell me anything, and i'll still love you."

akira clenches his eyes shut before bringing you into his arms. he crushes you against him before laying down in bed with you. it was then that he spent the next several hours telling you everything, how his unjust arrest lead him and his friends to start a revolution of sorts in order to change the corrupt world around them.

the moment akira finishes telling his story, you felt your heart grow, filled with an unconditional love for him. kissing his own forehead in response, you tell him how proud you are of him for remaining so strong and for fighting for what he believed in.

akira remains silent with tears running down his face, holding you close to him as he buries your face within the curve of your neck, finding comfort in your warmth and mere presence.

june

it was finally summer break and today was akira's birthday, the day you were looking forward to celebrating the most with your beloved boyfriend.

you decided to keep this day simple and sweet, with akira staying in the dorms for a few more months before he had to go back home.

you didn't want to think about his homecoming, knowing that you would be in tears the moment he had to leave.

so instead, you focused on making this the perfect day for akira, baking him a small cake mixed in with some sprinkles in the batter. because you wanted this to be a relaxing and intimate birthday, you already had plans to order his favorite food and have it delivered around dinnertime.

with his cake finished, you spent the day spoiling him, singing happy birthday to akira while watching him make a wish before blowing out the candles.

"so what did you wish for?" you ask him with a teasing smile on your face. akira responds with his signature laugh, bringing you closer to him as he presses a kiss against your lips.

"sorry treasure, that i cannot tell you, for if i told you, then it wouldn't come true."

you roll your eyes at him, but relent, giving the tip of his nose a kiss before spoiling him even more with cuddles.

when evening came, you and akira were in the middle of enjoying your dinner. you had given him his first gift earlier, another journal and a sleek looking watch that he was currently wearing. you hadn't given him your last gift yet, wanting to wait for the perfect moment to do so.

and now, you finally had the perfect chance to give him your last gift.

as akira places all the empty takeout cartons in the bin, you called out to him, holding the last present behind your back.

"aki, can you come here?"

"of course, love."

he wipes his hand on a towel, placing it to the side before stepping closer to you. "what is it?"

not daring to speak for fear of bursting into tears, you slowly reveal the last present to him. akira's eyes were wide and he tries to tell you, "babe, the journal and watch was more than enough-"

you shake your head, silently beckoning akira to take the final gift and open it. with a nod, he does so, accepting your final gift. as he carefully unwraps it, he unveils the scrapbook you had taken some time to make for him.

as if mesmerized by the captured memories, he sees on the very first page the group picture of he and his friends that you had seen within his desk. and as he flipped the pages, that's when he saw all of the pictures you had taken together with him ever since you first started dating.

while akira flips through the pages was when you finally gathered the courage to speak,

"i made you this album consisting off all the pictures we took together... it took some time to extract them from my phone and print, b-but i truly wanted to give you something in hopes that you won't... that you won't ever forget about me."

when akira looks away from the scrapbook, he meets your gaze, and you could see the unshed tears glimmering within his steel grey eyes. he says your name, filled with emotion as he hugs you closer to him. "i could never forget you. i thought i had already felt love before, but that... that feeling is nothing to how i feel for you now."

he sets the scrapbook off to the side, framing your face with his two hands as you both began to cry. not caring about the tears that streamed down both of your faces, akira begins to kiss you deeply, crushing your body to his while holding you so tightly.

"whatever the future brings, it doesn't matter to me. because deep down in my heart, i know that i'll only love you and you alone."

akira begins to smile through his tears, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away at the moisture that streams down your eyes. "i promise you, i promise you that i'll never forget you, and that i'll always come back to you- always."

july

there were tears streaming down your face when you realized that akira had to return back to japan soon.

even though akira did everything he could to distract you from the inevitable, you still harbored such deep feelings of hurt.

you spent every day together, never once growing tired of each other. akira still cherished your gifts for him, making new memories with you as he filled the pages of his journal with details about you.

and despite how happy you felt, spending so much time with akira-

you were also feeling so hurt and miserable as well.

it was one of those nights where you began to feel sad once more, crying in akira's arms as he gently comforted you throughout the night.

"ssh, it's going to be alright. we'll see each other again, and i promise i'll text you and call you every day."

"i k-know that, aki, it's j-just." you could feel the tears brimming against your eyes again, "i can't let you go."

that was the final straw as you cried again, clinging to akira as a defeated sigh escapes from his parted lips.

"i can't let you go, either, treasure. ever since i met you, i feel as though my life has become so much brighter."

he whispers your name, catching your attention when your eyes met with his. wanting to do all he could to make you happy, he leans in and kisses you, not stopping as he wraps his arms around you, becoming a tangle of limbs in response.

you spent the whole night kissing and cuddling, basking in his whispers as you talked yourself into believing his promises of forever-

that what you had with akira was real, and that he would always come back to you.

august

you had no idea how you functioned without akira.

he had gone home on the exact date he was meant to leave, before the new semester began, and you did not wish to spend these final few weeks of summer alone. so, you went back home while trying to pretend that akira's absence didn't absolutely devastate you.

you hated the thousands of miles that stood between you and akira, and despite everything, you were glad that akira kept his end of the promise. even though there was also a huge difference in timezones, you did your best to make things work.

he would send you pictures in the middle of the night, and you could see how bright everything looked back at his hometown. he seemed happy in those pictures, being back with family and friends, yet even you could tell that his smile never could quite reach his eyes, always remaining tiny with the same glimmer of sadness in his gaze.

today, you woke up feeling groggy and admittedly, a bit upset. you texted akira first thing in the morning-

and had yet to get a reply back.

now, normally, you were able to brush it off, thinking he was busy doing some things with his family or friends. when this happens, akira always made sure to text you back within the next few hours, telling you about his day as you both fell back into an easy conversation.

so you waited...

and waited...

but there was still no reply from akira.

around dinner, once he finished eating, your father suddenly excused himself, telling you and your mother that he had a quick errand to run, and that he'll return in the next hour or so. you barely heard him, still picking at your scarcely eaten dinner. you weren't even aware of how your father had just left, making your mother worry a bit.

"sweetheart, is everything alright? you've barely eaten today, and it's so clear that something is upsetting you."

you trail your eyes towards your phone currently settled on the counter, still with no text from akira. "it's stupid, you probably might get mad at me for feeling upset."

"i won't get mad, honey. you can tell me what's bothering you."

you felt your mother reach out a hand to you, placing it on top of yours as you sighed and relented. "it's about akira. i texted him a few times, and he still hasn't replied to me. and i just- i'm worried that i may have done something to upset him."

your mother gives you a sympathetic expression, bringing you closer to her as she embraces you fully. "don't worry, my dear. i'm sure he'll get back to you soon. just think positive, okay?"

feeling pathetic, you refuse to allow the tears to fall as you angrily began to wipe the dampness away from your eyes. heeding her words, you follow her into the living room to take your mind off of your boyfriend, putting on a random show to pass time as you both waited for your father to come home.

roughly an hour later, you hear the sound of the door unlocking as your father enters your home with what looks like some luggage. you were frowning with confusion now, "dad, what's with the luggage? who's here?"

he merely smiles at you before gesturing outside. "it's your surprise, that's who's here."

you could feel the feelings of hope coursing through your veins, making you stand from your seat on the couch as you ran barefoot out into your driveway-

only to see akira standing there, smiling brightly at you.

letting out a sob of his name, you ran towards him and threw your arms around his neck, feeling the tears of joy streaming down your face as you embraced him tightly.

"y-you idiot! i was so worried about you..."

you listen to his soft laughter once more, feeling his lips press against your hair, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, but i wanted to surprise you."

you pull away from him with a pout painted against your lips. "b-but, how? how are you here?"

akira continues to smile at you, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips before explaining, "i had your parents help me prepare for this surprise. despite how arduous the process was, i'm able to continue going to university with you."

"b-but-"

he cuts you off with another kiss, "no buts, and honestly, didn't i already tell you?"

akira basks in your presence, closing his eyes while keeping you in his arms, "i will always come back to you."

epilogue - present day

you were the first to awaken when you heard the sounds of your baby crying in the next room. filled with a panic only a mother would feel for her newborn child, you throw back your blankets and quickly rush towards her room.

you call out your daughter's name, only to see that her cries had become quieter the moment akira held her whilst rocking her back and forth. his tired grey eyes meets your gaze, and he manages to send you a tiny smile all while comforting your daughter.

the sight of akira pressing gentle kisses against his daughter's dark curls was enough to make your heart melt as you tiptoed into the room. you bask in the beauty of your husband and child cuddled together all while playfully frowning at the sight.

"i'm so jealous, our princess prefers you over me."

as if reacting to the sound of your voice, you watch as your daughter lets out a soft whine, her legs and tiny arms kicking as they desperately reached out to you. not wanting to upset her, you lean down to give her your finger, watching as she automatically relaxes within her father's embrace.

"don't be ridiculous, it's so obvious that she loves both of us equally."

akira lets out a soft chuckle, beckoning you to come closer to him. when you lean down is when akira gives you another kiss, making your heart flutter with excitement as you found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

after pulling away from akira, you both look down at your precious daughter, who was already asleep now that she was in the comfort and warmth of her father's arms, a sensation that you knew of all too well.

"akira kurusu, i am so happy to have met you all those years ago. you have been my soulmate from the start, and i will never take what we have for granted."

akira's eyes were seen becoming brighter, filled with a love and adoration that you were so used to seeing as he beckons you closer to kiss you once more.

"you took the words right out of my mouth, mrs. kurusu. you have given me the greatest treasure i could ever ask for, and for that, i am eternally yours."

a.n. - it has been so long since i have written a story for akira, and i really wanted to try this new oneshot format with the best boy in the entire world. this story was truly a labor of love, taking me around 8 hours and 9k+ words to complete this entire story. please forgive me for any mistakes, as it is still unedited 🥹 and please, do enjoy the long read ❤️

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#akira kurusu x reader #akira kurusu fluff #akira kurusu x you #akira kurusu imagine #akira kurusu #kurusu akira x reader #akira x reader #joker x reader #ren amamiya x reader #.stories

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