#I can never make friends and if I do they never last

[fangirl-dot-com]

☕️That's That Me Espresso

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Singer!Reader (fc Sabrina Carpenter) Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Max had been single for the first time in almost 4 years. What do Lando and Charles do? Lightly set him up with a very popular acquaintance. They just hope he likes espresso.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

There was a different type of electricity in the air that Max was not familiar with. Sure, every race had that adrenalinistic atmosphere that, really, he had gotten numb to. But this, this was different. He might have even gone as far as to call it a “breath of fresh air.” 

His whole body was tired, especially after a grueling race. Why the FIA decided to push the Brazil Grand Prix to the dead middle of summer? He didn’t know why. But he had said enough passive aggressive remarks about the weather. The reason they gave was to avoid the typhoons that normally showed up during the later months of the year, when the usual race was scheduled. 

The Dutchman didn’t mind. The race last year, although the weekend had been soaked, hadn’t even been canceled. Sure there was rain, but they had raced in wetter conditions before. But, he had no control over the schedule. 

If he had been in charge, the calendar would have only 10 races comprised of all historical tracks, no US races, and sprints would be cast into the nearest dumpster. 

But Max Verstappen was not in charge of the Formula 1 calendar, and he was now standing backstage to some concert that Lando and Charles had dragged him and some other drivers to. They explained that it was for their girlfriends, but Lando didn’t have a girlfriend and Max knew he and Charles genuinely liked the pop genre. 

He just never bothered to listen to specific music. He went more by the vibes the song gave, and if he liked it, he liked it. There was no reason to go deep into the discography of the artist and the albums. 

Music was just music to Max. 

Well, that was until the lights dimmed and the most beautiful person, well to Max’s opinion, walked out in almost 6-inch heels and the shortest white skirt. 

Now, Max had been single for almost three months. He had known that Kelly was drifting, but he didn’t make any attempts to draw her back in. The close to four year relationship just fizzled. 

However, he was confused when his friends celebrated the breakup. Lando had gently told him that, while Penelope was very sweet, Kelly had been using him. Charles also brought up the fact that Kelly had said that she had a “magical meeting” with him when he was 19, practically a child with how fast he had to grow up. 

The 9 year age gap pretty much put people on edge about her. 

But Max had no time to dwell on that as he watched the female dance around, pretty skirt flipping up every time she skipped on stage. Her voice echoed through the large speakers, and Max found himself head bobbing to the beat. 

When there was a brief intermission, Lando had snaked his arm around his neck. 

“So how are you liking it?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink after. The Dutchman hadn’t taken his eyes of the door where she had gone through. 

“She’s very pretty.” 

Lando snorted, making Max turn to face his friend. 

“I didn’t ask about her mate, but good to know. I can introduce you to Y/n after the concert is over if you’d like me to.” 

Max’s eyes widened. 

So that’s what your name was. He thought it was very fitting, and he could start to daydream of how the vowels and consonants would sound through his mouth. He wondered if his lisp would accidentally seep through. 

“You would?” 

Lando sighed before calling Charles over. The brunet was quick to round the other side of the two drivers, now taking up Max’s left. 

“Yeah mate?” 

Lando slapped Max on the back, making him wince a bit, muscles still sore. 

“Our race winner here seems to be a bit infatuated with Y/n.” 

Charles wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Is he now? They’d be a nice pair wouldn’t you say Lando?” 

Max tuned the last bit of their conversation out as he watched you prance out of the door you disappeared through earlier. He didn’t know what caused you to look over as you were putting in your in-ears, but you did and your eyes met his. 

You quickly blushed under the gaze of the unfamiliar blond man as your eyes darted back to the ground. You had recognized Lando to his right (your left), but the man remained a mystery to you as you began to sing the second half of your set.

You kneeled on the edge of the stage and reached out for a Brazilian flag that a fan was desperately waving around. You took the soft fabric and wrapped it around your shoulders for the rest of the evening. 

Max thought you looked like an angel. The lights reflected your blond hair perfectly, creating almost a halo around your face. He himself wanted to give your stylists a raise for picking out the perfect hair, makeup, and outfit. 

You had a big smile as you waved to the crowds after your last encore. 

“Brasil! Voce tem sido incrive! Todos voces tem meu coracao! Te amo e boa noite!” 

You even had the voice of an angel. 

And you were now walking toward their group. Max was not prepared. Thankfully Lando and Charles were as they stepped in front Max and congratulated you on the concert. Every now and then in the conversation, your eyes flitted to the blond man, who was looking everywhere but you. 

“Y/n! I don’t believe you’ve met Max yet! Max this is Y/n, and Y/n this is Max Verstappen, current world champion.” 

The last words made Charles huff a bit, only being behind Max in the points this season by a small margin. You put your hand out for a shake but Max just looked at it, stared, then looked back up. 

“You’re very pretty.” 

He wanted to slap himself in the face, but your giggles that flew out of your mouth made him want to melt into the ground. Your hand covered your mouth as you looked up at him. Even with your heals, Max was still a half a foot taller than you. You know that it’d be closer to a full foot without your shoes, which you were desperately wanting to get out of. 

“Thank you. You’re very handsome, but I guess you hear that too often.” 

He actually didn’t. Most didn’t go for his stockier build, rounded features, and flat hair. He knew that many preferred Charles’s slim waist and Lando’s boyish looks. But here you were, looking up at him like he was God’s gift to mankind. Your round doe eyes were hitting all of his buttons. 

He smirked. “Not too many, but I only remember the gorgeous ones.” 

Oh, so he could flirt. That was news to Lando and Charles as they watched the interactions nearby. 

Lando leaned over when Max fished out his phone from his pant leg almost shy at the action. “I didn’t think he had it in him. I wonder if he has ever had the chance to try to date.” 

Charles hummed. “He had a few girlfriends before Kelly. But again, they were all older. Y/n is only 22.” 

When you trailed off to go change, Max walked over to the duo with a dopey smile. 

“I think I’m in love.” 

y/nl/n has posted

liked by landonorris, y/nisqueen, mothery/n, and 3,205,094 others y/nl/n brasil! you were amazing! Te amo, te amo! I will miss you all 💚💛🇧🇷

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y/nnation this concert was just chef's kiss!!

y/nisqueen the outfits, the flag, the hair - oh my gosh I love her

f1xy/n did anyone else see that tweet about the f1 drivers in attendance??

norris/n I hope that lando was there, him and y/n would be so cute

maxxy/n I think y/n and max would be so cutie tho

landonorris great show once again y/n!

y/nl/n glad that you and your friends could come see!!

teamy/n your honor I love her

Another giggle left your lips as you were driven back to your hotel. Your manager was watching you with fond eyes, happy to see you all smiley. Your last relationship had not ended well, leaving you heartbroken and depressed. But your emotions fueled you to write your best album yet.

“I’m going to guess that you’re texting you driver,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, making you sink into the seat, phone covering your face. 

“Maybe. Mila, he’s so perfect. He’s very . . . sweet, but at the same time he’s sharp. He’s a bit like my every morning drink.” 

Mila sent you a warm smile. “Speaking of morning drinks, do you still want your espresso sent to your room at the normal time, or do you want to sleep in?” 

Your brows furrowed, mind running quickly. You opened your notes app and began typing. 

“Espresso.”

A few months passed with you and Max growing closer and closer. People online could definitely tell that the Dutchman was more smiley, but no one knew why. They could only speculate that he was in a relationship, but he hadn’t really been anywhere in the past few months that could signify a blooming relationship. 

You were up writing late when your phone buzzed, the familiar pattern letting you know that a certain blond was calling you. Your eyebrows pinched as you noticed the time. You pressed the green button before saying hello. 

“Hi schatje,” the familiar pet-name flooding the room. 

“Why are you up so late? Don’t you have a race tomorrow morning?” 

Although you were in two different countries, you and Max miraculously were in the same time zones, meaning if you were up late so was he. 

“We have the sim race this weekend.” 

“Maaxxx.” 

“Y/nnnnn, I’ve done it before. And plus, you’re also up.” 

You nibbled on your lip. “I couldn’t sleep. Lyrics are just racing around my brain.” 

“That or you had your espresso too late again.” 

You smirked as your eyes landed on the empty espresso mug on the bedside table. 

“I’m taking the silence as ‘yes Max. I had an espresso too late.’” 

Max’s favorite sound, your laugh, sounded through his phone that was resting on his simulator. The two of you had some weird humor, but you never failed to make Max laugh and neither did he. 

The sound of him shifting the gears was better than any white noise machine could be. Max tried his best to focus on his race, but the scratching of your pencil and your sporadic sighs kept him a bit distracted. 

“Would you be fine if I put a hint in my song? I like having you all to myself, but I want people to know that you make me happy.” 

Max almost virtually crashed. You never ceased to amaze him. 

“That’s fine with me liefling. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

y/nl/n has posted

liked by gracieadams, y/nvideo, maxverstappen1, and 3,405,295 others y/nl/n ☕️ espresso is now yours :) let's call it the bop of the summer

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maxxy/n ayo max, why are you here so early 🤨

f1xy/n what the hell is a polar bear doing in Arlington texas

y/n.nation when she says bop of the summer, it's the bop of the summer

maxverstappen1 ☕️

y/nl/n ☕️

queeny/n what the heck is this supposed to mean?????

user204502 this song has been on repeat

Max hadn’t know when you were going to release the song, he just knew that you were. He hadn’t even realized that it was out to the public until Charles had mentioned something. 

“Y/n’s new song is great, non? Didn’t know that you two were soft launching, but I’m happy for you two.” 

Max never ran faster than he did to get to his driver’s room to listen to it. He never thought that you’d ever write a song about him, but here it was. The title was catchy too. 

Thankfully, you were waiting for him when he got back to Monaco. The first thing he did was lean down to kiss your lips. You could never get over the feeling of his lips against yours. The broadness of his shoulders made you feel safe as he caged you in between himself and the door. 

His large hands fit perfectly against your hips as he brushed his face against your neck. Your hands gripped his shirt that was thankfully not a Red Bull polo. 

“I take it you liked the song?” you managed to get out, breathless against him. A hum vibrated against your neck, letting you know that he was pleased. 

He finally gave you a bit of space once he kissed you on his way back up. 

“Espresso?”

You giggled, head digging into his chest. “I had one almost 15 minutes ago.” 

“Of course you did.” 

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you just stood in the walkway to his house. The place finally looked like someone was actually living in it, and not looking like an Ikea display. 

Little bits of Max were visible everywhere, now that he didn’t have to hide his stuff away in his little mancave. His suit was now on display with pictures of his various wins decorating the walls. But in between all the racing were bits of you left behind. Pictures of your stages filled in the gaps. 

But Max’s favorite bit was the circle stain of dark espresso by your side of his bed. 

“Come with me to Silverstone and later to Zandvoort.” 

You looked up at him, still not getting over the foot in height difference. Your neck had to crane for you to look him in the eyes. 

“Think about it,” Max continued. “You’re taking a small break from your tours when Silverstone happens. And then Zandvoort is the Sunday before the Netherlands concert.” 

You couldn’t say anything but yes. 

Lando was surprised to see your hand held tightly in Max’s. The last thing he knew is that you and him were texting, but he didn’t know if it went any farther than that. The Briton was happy to learn that you had been behind the Dutchman’s wide smiles between races. 

He thought you looked absolutely tiny next to Max, even in your usual heels. Lando did notice that you weren’t visible in the garage during the practices and even the race on Sunday. When it was him, Max, and Charles on the podium, he took his chances to ask. 

“Where’s your superstar?” 

Max visible brightened at the mention of you. “We’re not public yet. I think we like the privacy a bit too much.” 

Lando looked confused. “But the song?” 

He watched as Max leaned back with a laugh. “Mate, everyone thinks she’s in a relationship with either you or Sebastian of all people.” 

“Why would it be Seb?” Charles piped up, finally joining the conversation. 

“Because she sings something about calling me a honey bee. People are trying to connect that with the racing lyric and Seb’s bee keeping skills.” 

The photographers thought that they were getting good pictures of the three enjoying the post-race celebrations as they caught giant smiles and laughs. They probably couldn’t even imagine the conversation that was going on. 

It wasn’t until Zandvoort that people started to catch glimpses of you in the paddock. You smiled widely as you stepped through the turnstile, hand clasped in Max’s. Cameras were clicking wildly, but you knew how to ignore them. 

You were here for Max and Max only. 

You had wanted to find something orange to wear, but the weather was a bit rainy and cold. Max had convinced you to wear something warm, much to your chagrin. When you had pouted earlier in the hotel room, he just leaned down and kissed your lips. 

“Hmmmm, espresso. My favorite.” 

You had rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because you were up late again. I was able to get some more work done though.” 

“Must have gotten some from you then.” 

The Red Bull driver was able to secure his home race win, putting him just behind Charles in the standings. The Ferrari driver had been driving like a madman all season, and Max had just now been able to catch up to him. However, you knew how scared he was of losing his champion title. 

But, this year, he had you to be his support. Whether he won or lost, you’d still be there. Unlike Kelly, you didn’t push your way into his life. You let him choose you when he wanted. There was no constant grabbing at his arms to pull him away from his crew. 

When Max finally made his way to you, he just brought you in close. He wouldn’t have been able to kiss you with his helmet on anyway. When he pulled back, he was surprised to see tears in your eyes. His face must have had confusion written all over it as you shook your head. 

“Happy tears. I’m so proud of you.” 

The validation he got from you meant so much more than any he ever received. As Max looked down at you from the top step of the podium, you looked up at him like he hung the sun. The Dutchman would never fall tired of your gaze. 

y/nl/n has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mothery/n, verstopen33, and 4,204,938 others y/nl/n oh, he looks so cute, wrapped around my finger

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mothery/n WAS NOT EXPECTING THE HARD LAUNCH WHAT

f1xy/n thank you y/n for feeding us with boyfriend max material

verstappen33max I don't think I've seen him so smiley

maxverstappen1 💙 schatje

y/nl/n 💗 my love

y/nisqueen awwww I love them your honor

landonorris rue, when was this? 🤨

charles_leclerc me as well 😊

maxverstappen1 I think since February??

landonorris SINCE FEBRUARY???

charles_leclerc congrats!!

y/nl/n thank you charlieeeee

y/nvideo this is now my otp for the rest of my life 🥺

A week later, it was Max’s turn to stare at you the way that you stared at him. The little pink number that you were wearing was turning Max’s thoughts into something more that just hugs and kisses. But, he put those away (maybe for later) and just continued to enjoy the set that you had chosen. 

He couldn’t believe that he was back in the same place that he had been eight months ago. But, there he was, still as starstruck as he had been. He loved to see you skip around, skirt still flinging around and heels still adorning your feet. 

As the evening was closing, he just couldn’t wait to bring you back to the hotel to love on you, even more than he had already been doing. He wished time could speed up just a bit because he knew you were it for him. 

There was a before you, a during you, and he never wanted there to be an after you. 

He, along with the rest of the crowd and fellow drivers, got confused when you didn’t leave the stage after the last song. But, as slow piano music left the giant speakers, Max immediately knew what was happening. 

In the past couple of months, you had been holed up in your studio, really only seeing Max whenever he dropped off lunch or when you came back to his house. And many times, he was surprised to see Charles there as well, dressed in comfy clothes and glasses on his face. 

Piano sheet music always covered every inch of studio space when the Monegasque showed up, meaning that you were in the middle of creating a masterpiece. And, Max got to listen to multiple different melodies that the two of you put together. However, he wasn’t allowed to listen to any of the final demos which eventually got turned into songs. 

Tears pricked his eyes when he heard you explain yourself to the crowd. You had turned a bit to face Max as you talked. Your message for him more than the crowd. 

Your smile shined in the bright spotlights. 

“This next song is one that I wrote for a very special person in my life. You all know who it is so I won’t embarrass him.” 

Max could never be embarrassed by you. 

“I call it Lover, because that is what he is to me. My one and only love. Max, my espresso, I love you dearly.” 

And so dearly, he loved you too. 

y/nl/n has posted

liked by dior, maxverstappen1, y/nfan, and 4,205,893 others y/nl/n a song for my lover? how about an album 💖

lover is now yours on all streaming platforms

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y/nfan I THINK I BEAT MAX TO THE LIKES

y/nfan never mind...

y/n.nation the new song and now new album, max please keep keeping her happy

charles_leclerc glad to be a part of the album y/n!

y/nl/n thank you Charles! merci beaucoup 🫶

maxverstappen1 my lover 💖

y/nl/n my one and only 💙

landonorris ok, when do I get an album??

y/nl/n I can set you up with one of my friends?

ynsmax and we all say "thank you max!"

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#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #Max Verstappen x singer!reader #Max Verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 smau #smau #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

[kamitv]

▷ Premature

Sypnosis . How they react to getting caught jerking off/How they jerk off when you’re not around. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, masturbation, pervertedness, praise, needy men, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, degrading, established relationships etc. / wc . 5.5k

A/N: not proofread in the slightest— I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a mix of two requests; one from my lovely 👍anon; If it's not too much trouble, would you take a request for how JJK men jack it to reader? To a picture, their thoughts, or maybe reader asks them perhaps? & jjk men getting caught jerking off [MDNI]

★ Toji Fushiguro

He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.

What the hell are you even talking about? He’s got no idea, all he knows is that your soft tone, laced with such a faint sleepiness to it, has his cock aching within his hand.

You wouldn’t even notice he’s jerking off for a while either, not until he groans out your name.

The sound makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap on your phone to bring the ongoing phone call to the forefront of your screen.

You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too deep, “Fuck,” That has you smiling to yourself a little. Especially when you hear him grunting as if he were trying to keep his sounds in.

But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep fuckin’ talkin’, doll,” Toji orders and god does he sound sexy like this.

There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, and your ears don’t miss how he sighs heavily.

On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out and his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name, “What?” He’d huff, almost as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.

Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes Toji grunt, “You okay over there? Y’sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.

“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now— big hand wrapped around his cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.

You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear almost everything. His sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to, his hand jerking his dick in quicker pulls due to the slickness of his saliva and precum mixing together.

“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants and starts slowing his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d y’stop talkin’? Hm?”

“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”

Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask (sometimes), “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.

“Riight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”

“Yeah? ‘Nd what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.

You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today so I got lucky they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.

Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?

Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth— you knew what the hell you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.

Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”

“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.

Your voice had softened by a lot and it drove him crazy. Such a clear false innocence laced into your question had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what the hell you’re asking him.

Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.

You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”

“Yeah, y’do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.

As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Hm?” You hum.

“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”

The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”

You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”

And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching— damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he didn’t mind right now.

“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.

“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”

His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum thinkin’ about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.

And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being, how could he not picture you on your knees and taking his cock down your throat as he face fucks you just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?

Then you just kept going, “…Or jus’ from me talking? Y’like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.

He’s on his end just nodding as his brows furrow— when the hell was he this damn needy for you? “Yes, fuck… fuckin’ hell, yes, I fuckin’ love your voice baby,” Toji tells you.

God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, cockhead angry and leaking at your every word, big thighs parted yet jittery as he gets closer and closer.

“C’mon then big guy, cum f’me so you can come over,” Suddenly your tone is aroused and Toji’s squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

“S’late, doll,” He argues.

You tut, “Yeah well listenin’ to you jerk off turned me on so now you’ve gotta come over ‘nd deal with it.”

Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…

Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you right now and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want, doll. I’ll be over in ten.”

You snicker, “Make it five.”

He swears you’ll be the death of him.

Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”

“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.

He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”

You smile, “Come shut me up.”

“Oh I’m about to.”

★ Geto Suguru

Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties— Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.

He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this so he just uses the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.

Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off and other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose, inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.

His hand has a strong grip on his base as he gets himself off with your panties. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.

“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly into the air, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue, how sweet how tasted, how addicting you are.

Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk the fuck out of his cock? Well, yes.

Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.

Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it— the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.

Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.

Oh the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.

And he’s so close as he thinks about it more— picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-

“Suguru?” The sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.

Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.

You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago but yet, here you were— standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.

You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”

“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.

Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.

“That’s filthy Sugu,” You whisper carefully.

The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.

Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me, Suguru.” You utter.

He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I jus’ needed your panties.”

You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.

“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, tha’s me, princess. Keep tellin’ me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.

You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”

“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingerin’ yourself to my voice last week.”

You gulp, “T-That was…”

He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.

Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.

His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.

“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, but his voice is a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are y’gonna get on your knees ‘nd take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.

You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you chuckle, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”

He scoffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”

“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”

He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”

“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy— looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him and your hand low and near his cock.

Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watchin’ you before I said something?”

“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch so badly, you were too close to not be all over him right now and his restraint was waning by the second.

“A few minutes, saw you puttin’ my panties to your nose ‘nd everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.

You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”

“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said somethin’ right? Cause y’like watchin’ me like this?”

Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.

Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.

The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”

★ Gojo Satoru

You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person— he sends you a video.

Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins, a pretty pink tip twitching for some attention, and a bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.

“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” Oh his tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and gulped. Thank god for your headphones, despite being home alone, because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”

Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”

“Got’ this hard thinkin’ about you,” Gojo whispers suddenly, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.

Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand— how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead and he lets out a hiss.

Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touchin’ me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leavin’ you for work…”

You chuckle lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you— his cock is so long and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).

Your thighs are squeezing together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.

And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.

You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.

Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“

“Knowin’ you’re watchin’ that video isn’t enough f’me,” Gojo huffs out— now he’s got the camera propped up for you and you can see most of his body.

His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, his legs are spread far and wide, hard and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand tugs at it in needy little pulls. Gojo’s got his head tossed back and you have the clearest view of his sweaty Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down along his chest.

He’s panting like crazy and his hand is fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I fuckin’ need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.

You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“

“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.

“Spread yourself apart f’me, baby,” Gojo groans out his instructions and you’re following his every word— parting your legs wider and moving two finds to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.

“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.

You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juus’ like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss bein’ inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet y’re f’me ‘nd I’m not even there, shit.”

You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”

“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “Y’liked watchin’ me jerk off?”

His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.

“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.

“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak f’me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “My voice get you like this too?”

You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.

“Aww, baby…” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers tryin’ t’please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”

“Hahh, need you too baby,” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.

Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.

You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”

“M’gonna get home and fuck you til’ we both pass out, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.

Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah? Y’can’t wait huh?” Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get ya' pregnant so I have an excuse not t’leave you like this.”

Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cummin’ inside you, fuckin’ you nice ‘nd full, watchin’ you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.

“T-Toru,” You whine for him— missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.

“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it f’me pretty girl.”

You’re nodding, he’s nodding— both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.

“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers— the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.

Fuck, he needed to get home soon.

★ Nanami Kento

You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.

“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.

With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His muscular thighs parted like a damn slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.

Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this— his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.

Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.

But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.

Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.

He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way— thinking of fucking your tight cunt til’ you’re making too much noise and he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth to shut you up.

“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.

His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.

“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.

“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.

You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“

“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”

“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“

Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”

You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”

You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.

“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.

Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white— cum peeping out from his fat cockhead and making you swallow thickly.

You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”

His response is instant, “God, yes.”

“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”

Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”

You tease, “Anywhere?”

“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.

Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.

“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“

Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his cock tighter.

“Fuck,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.

“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.

Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.

You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”

“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it— he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.

Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Makin’ suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”

“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.

“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”

His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.

“Yeah?” He hushes out.

Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.

It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.

You gulp, “Sir, I-“

He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”

Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.

The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.

Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”

You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”

He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #nanami kento x reader #smut fic #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you smut #suguru x reader #suguru x reader smut #suguru x you #suguru x you smut #anime smut #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo saturo

[chatsukimi]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

featuring: needy!gojosatoru, childhoodfriend!gojosatoru. precious. fluff!, minute jealousy synopsis: you put makeup on your childhood best friend. you learn that he is more than you anticipated. masterlist

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you'd seen him as a child, two years younger than you, get scolded by his parents for sending a senile sorcerer to hospital. you were there when he first activated limitless and pummelled you accidentally in the face.

safe to say, nothing surprises you anymore. not even when he teleports into your room on the night of your date without even a knock and grabs you by the shoulders to turn you and your chair around.

"oi, stop that."

you strangle him off you. he only grins.

"sure thing." he shrugs, before bending down to inspect you more closely. "what have you got on your face?"

you put the bottle of setting spray down. "makeup."

he ruffles his tousled white hair, windblown. "ah? makeup. are you meeting someone?" he grins halfheartedly, scanning your room for any changes since you last met.

"i am."

"it's about time. i've already dated loads of people," he boasts, his eyes lingering on the powder and blush on the table.

you roll your eyes. "of course you have." you lay on the finishing touches to your face. you notice him watching.

rule one about gojo satoru, when he stares, he's interested. as you grew older, it became harder under those pitch black shades of his to detect where he's staring, but when he really wants something, it's obvious.

you lift a brush. "you want me to do makeup on you?"

he shakes his head.

rule two about satoru gojo, he never says what he's thinking.

you stand up, gesturing at the bed. "sit down." without a word, the boy listens to your command, ready to try something new.

you can't say you're unhappy to try doing makeup on him. you had some spare time left and that beautiful canvas of a face is nothing but to die for. putting makeup on him would be fun.

"i'll have to take off your glasses. may i?"

he sniffs.

rule three about gojo, he pretends to hate it when people ask to take his glasses off, but he secretly likes it. you know. it makes him feel seen, more human.

"do it yourself."

you nod.

taking his sunglasses off, you revel in the familiar ocean which faces you.

another two facts about satoru is that he can't keep still and he can't stop yapping. shaking his leg in tandem with the news from his mouth, the movement makes you shoot him a frustrated glare, distracted.

half to shut him up, the other half to make him pay attention, you grip his jaw in place. your eyes lock. soon enough, he'll probably look away to inspect some other object of interest; he's known you for years, after all. nothing new.

as you work, you think to yourself.

gojo... he's really grown up, hasn't he? in careful brushstrokes, you drag the eyeliner gently to form a wing with the tip of the pen. your eyes narrowed in concentration, you haven't noticed the shallow breath which tumbles from his mouth.

"pretty."

you blink.

gojo satoru scoots closer to you, so that his gorgeous azure eyes are inches from yours. they are widened in awe.

in all these years, you can count on one hand the number of times this genius has focused on anything longer than five-ten seconds. sure, going to jujutsu high has stretched that time out slightly, but it's nothing compared to this.

you know what rule one says about his behaviour, but you couldn't believe it.

he reaches up to brush the hair from your face. unblinking, unwavering, as though memorising everything, the outline of your nose to the singular dashes which form an eyelash, he stares at you.

it is the first step from a boy to a man.

"you are... really, really, pretty."

"says you," you say, almost pushing his hands away.

he sinks his fingers against yours, clasping them in a bone-tight grip.

"you are," he asserts. "how come i've never noticed?" he mutters, furious.

um. you turn to look the other way. the heat of his stare is scalding. nevertheless, the strongest refuses to back down.

"i should've noticed, shouldn't i? and now you're all dressed up with your make-up to meet some other guy." he pouts.

truth be told, you are silenced. this is not the gojo you recognise. in a swift move, he carries you from the vanity to the bed. the display of strength startles you.

"don't go," he whines into your shoulder, shifting you with his strong arms to nuzzle himself into your chest. you did so often when you were younger but-

"stay." he pauses, letting each syllable cascade from his beautiful lips like a bell, ringing crystal clear. "stay with me."

stay with him.

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you remember the way he begged for a break amidst his pre-adolescent training sessions. you remember the empty hallways of the gojo estate and his silent footsteps, how they left him behind to carry the world on his shoulders.

awaiting your answer, gojo feels his heart beating out of his chest. what if you leave? what if you choose your date over him? what if-

"why?"

he stares up at you again. truly shameless.

"because i want you to." he turns stern. "or else, i'll tell your friend that you didn't actually have work that day you decided to ditch her little meet-up and i'll-"

out of nowhere, a laugh breaks out of you. he frowns.

but then, you press a soft kiss on his cheek, another one on the slope of his nose, which -truth be told- didn't need the contour you'd gracefully put on it, and the strongest sorcerer in the world relaxes to your touch.

moments like these, satoru still manages to surprise you.

"i'll stay."

"promise?" he holds up a pinkie.

"come on, satoru, we're not children anymore."

his eyebrows scrunch together so you finally relent.

"ok."

you link your pinkie to his.

"promise."

getting comfortable, you shoot a text at your friend to move the date to another day.

"i knew you'd stay. you can't stand when i throw a tantrum," he suddenly begins to mumble against your skin. your eyes widen. "i know you... better than anyone..." his eyelids are dragging under the weight of sleepiness.

perhaps you didn't know everything about satoru after all.

gojo opens his eyes, seeing you fully. "i know you can't stand me being alone."

perhaps he knew more about you than you had thought possible.

on second thoughts, you grab your phone from your bedside table, typing up a message you send without a second thought.

sorry. something came up. i might not be able to meet with you next week either. thank you for your patience, but i think i've found someone who i want to stick by forever.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader

[aakeysmash]

prompt here; reader going on and on about how they never find someone and bakugou is just looking at them ready to snap

hehehe love this prompt tbh 🌸

"Katsukiii," you whine, throwing yourself on your best friend, who was previously chilling on his couch. He grunts, merely acknowledging you, before pushing your head away from his chest and keeping on scrolling through his phone. You've been best friends since kindergarten, and even if you're both adults now, when you're bored you just go to each other's house to do nothing together. You find comfort in knowing you can keep on being silent together, with no type of pressure whatsoever, and no need to find topics to dwell on either. Just pure, unfiltered and plain tranquility... well, kinda. After a few moments of silence, you start poking his cheek to gain his attention.

"Keep doing that and you'll find yourself missing a finger, fucker," he tells you, side-eyeing you. You immediately see his eyes glimmering. "Look," he says, turning his phone to make you watch a tiktok about a monkey slapping a baby. He chuckles, but when he sees you're confused he mumbles something along the lines of "you're always so fucking boring," then smacks your hand away from his cheek and keeps on scrolling while frowning.

"Find me a boyfriend," you suddenly tell him.

He snaps his head toward you. He must have heard you wrong. "The fuck you said?"

You huff, getting up and pacing around the room. "I mean, you know me, right?" you ask him, looking at him expectantly.

"Damn right I do, you've been pestering me for more than two decades," he answers, rolling his eyes. He gets up too, going toward his fridge to take out a water bottle.

"Then find me a man, since you know what I like," you say, following him.

He chokes on the water he is gulping down and you have to pat his back to make him stop coughing. "Why the fuck are you searching for a man?" he raspily says, glaring at you, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Why wouldn't I search for a man?" you ask, tilting your head a little, still massaging his back. He just stares at you for a moment, but when your expression doesn't change he just lifts a finger and points at you from head to toe.

"Are you saying I'm ugly?!" you exclaim, giving him a hard slap on the back. He coughs again, caught off guard, shaking his head.

"I need love too, you know? The few men I've been seeing in the last, I don't know, three years, were all boring as heck," you complain, going back to the couch and sprawling yourself on it. "I just wish I had a big, strong man by my side, you know? Matter of fact, keep that in mind when you search for it, okay?" you continue, face smushed on the couch pillow, looking at his still crouching figure. Then you turn your body around and stare at the ceiling. "I want someone serious who I can build my future with. I'm tired of people who only want to fuck."

"Okay dumbass, but why are you fucking searching for a man?" he asks you, ignoring the sad tilt to your voice, getting closer. He crosses his arms and looks at your face, still standing up near the couch. From this view, he looks gigantic; his bulging biceps are almost bursting out his sweater, and you feel hotter the more you look up.

"Katsuki, do you want me to punch you in the face? I'm not that ugly," you say rudely, recalling what he just said and trying to focus on the words escaping your mouth.

"I did not fucking say that, yn" the blonde barks back, the vein in his temple pulsing. You just huff, annoyed, and close your eyes.

Everything is still for a while; then you feel movement beside you before feeling one of his calloused hands on your forehead. He barely touches you, but you feel his presence. You feel he's here, next to you, warm hand on your face, thumb barely tracing little circles on it, and it calms you down. He's always had this effect on you: you remember him driving all the way to your campus while you were still in college just to curse you out for stressing too much on exams, and it always worked back then too. You lean into his touch, sighing.

"I meant to say you don't have to search for a man, men should be searching for you. And generally speaking, you wouldn't have to search for a man if you just opened your eyes a little, dumbass," he says, softer than you ever heard him being. You turn your face a bit and do as he just said, finding yourself a palm of distance from his own face.

You keep on staring at each other for what feels like hours, his hand still tracing your features and gently massaging your scalp. You don't think you've ever seen him so relaxed. You both get closer to each other, losing yourself in the moment, when-

"You mean to tell me I have a stalker?"

He pushes your face on the couch, hard, before screaming at you to get immediately out of his house. You are thrown into a fit of giggles, and before he can get up you bring him down on you.

"I guess you’re big and strong enough for me," you say, smiling.

#this was soooo cheesyyyyyyy i'm sorry ihih #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n

[girlokwhatever]

Hi! For an Emily Engstler HC could you do Overprotective!Emily x reader?

overprotective!emily x fem!reader hcs

₊˚ෆ⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚ emily as an overprotective gf

— she has this bad habit of thinking everyone wants you

— hands in your back pockets, always being close, subtly flashing her phone screen of the two of you to everyone (not so subtle) type shit

— if you go off without her at a party and she spots you talking to someone she’s never met…

- “who’s your little friend”

— likes to stand behind you so she can see everything going on around you

— if you go to a party without her she’s texting every so often to make sure you’re okay

— always eyeing the guys tryna talk to you at the bar/club

- she knows he doesn’t want your number to “be friends”

— “that guy was definitely flirting with you”

- “he asked me if i knew where the bathroom was, em.”

— likes to sling her arm around your shoulders

— when meeting a new friend of yours (especially if it’s a guy or masc woman)

- “hey, i’m her girlfriend.”

— if guys come up to you at the club or something she tries to intimidate them with her height

- will make it obvious she has to look down to see him

— she always insists on meeting your new friends that she doesn’t know

- just so she can get a feel for how responsible they are (she can’t leave you alone with people that don’t know what they’re doing.)

— “i don’t trust her driving, let me drop you off. i promise i’ll pick you up on time.”

— you guys have each other’s location

- she’s stalking it whenever she’s not with you. not because she doesn’t trust you, but just because she’s worried.

- will literally call you if she sees you’re speeding on life360 or something

— “there’s no way you’re going there without me. someone got mugged there last week.”

- “did you just make that up?”

— she lets you go off on your own at parties though!!!!

- as long as she can still see you

— “please call me if you need anything”

— bought you pepper spray after you watched a crime documentary together LOL

— will hold your wallet and phone for you when you guys go out cause she’s scared you’ll lose/forget it somewhere

— always holds you against her in a crowd cause ppl can be crazy

— “em, do you think this is cute.”

- “yeah, yeah. no way you’re going out.”

- “i am going out. in this outfit. right now.”

- “wouldn’t you rather stay home so i can take it off of you?”

₊˚ෆ⋆·˚ ༘ *✧.*ੈ✩‧₊˚

SOME EMILY HCS!!!!!

emily with a strap coming soon??!!……..

#emily engstler i love you #rea loves em #emily engstler smut #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #emily engstler fic #washington mystics #louisville wcbb #louisville wbb #masc lesbian #lesbian #wlw slay #wlw yearning #lgbtq #lgbtqia

[miley1442111]

(part 6) ladies choice- a.donaldson

------------------------------

------------------------------

a/n: dw there are more parts after this :)

summary: how you start moving on, and how Art starts moving away.

pairing: art donaldson x fem! reader | patrick zweig x fem! reader

warnings: smut, piv (wrap it up plz), reader is mad mean to Tashi, usual upset and depressed Art, etc.

PART 1: before his choice PART 2: choices and chances PART 3: choices and meetings PART 4: wrong choice, wrong move PART 5: party choices

------------------------------

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked. 

“I wanted to talk,” Patrick shrugged. His loose t-shirt hung off his well-hidden muscled torso and arms. 

“About what?”

“Your break-up.”

“If you’re about to try and convince me to get back with him-”

“No way!” he assured you.  “I wanted to see how you were. Art’s broke up about it but it’s not like he’s the one who got cheated on.”

You were both silent for a moment.

“How are you?” Patrick asked, fiddling with the straps of the tote bag over his shoulder.

You sighed. “Honestly, I’m kind of shit.” 

“I guessed. That’s why I brought ice cream,” he smiled sheepishly. “And I thought we could watch something?”

You smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“So let me in then,” he smiled. You opened the door and the night was full of laughter, ice-cream, and hazily falling asleep in his arms in your bed. 

------------------------------

“Stay in touch, yeah?” he smiled from the end of your bed. He had to leave, his train was in an hour and he wanted to be at the station before he missed it out of pure idiocy. He’d never been good with being on time. 

“Yeah,” you agreed and took his hand, lazily bringing it into your own. “Thank you for last night Pat.”

“Thank you, you make a lot of things a lot better.” 

You smiled at his compliment, and smiled even harder when he pressed a soft kiss to your hand before he left. 

------------------------------

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Art cursed, watching Patrick leave your dorm room. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Patrick shot back, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Visiting Y/n-”

“You mean your ex-girlfriend, right?” Patrick mocked and Art rolled his eyes. 

“I have some of her old stuff, I wanted to give it back,” Art admitted. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t care. We’re not friends anymore, remember? And you and Y/n are broken up, because you cheated on her, remember?” 

Art felt the stab in his heart when he remembered his infidelity. He didn’t love Tashi. He loved you. He’d always love you. But Tashi and he made sense. Before you, he’d wanted Tashi. Now he couldn’t have you, Tashi was his second choice. 

“See you around, Arthur,” Patrick smiled, walking past him. 

Art was seething. 

------------------------------

“Are you fucking Patrick?” Tashi demanded, stalking onto the court as you ran drills. 

“No,” you answered, your focus staying on the balls being thrown at you by your coach.

“Then why did Art tell me you were?”

“Because he’s a liar?” You sighed after missing a ball. “Keep me out of your relationship, you’ve already fucked one of my boyfriend behind my back.”

Tashi rolled her eyes. “Why are you-”

“Focus on your injury, Tashi. Maybe one day you’ll be able to beat me,” you snarled. 

Tashi’s face fell. 

“Oh wait, no you fucking won’t. ‘Cause you’ll never play again,” you snapped. “Now get off the court, actual athletes are trying to play.”

Tashi walked away, a certain shake in her step as you watched her retreat. 

You had to call Patrick. In recent weeks, he’d been your only real friend. The only person who understood you and the pain you were under. Tashi had fucked Art, Patrick was cheated on as well, right? You two were one in the same. 

“Patrick?” you questioned. 

“Hey honey,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Everything alright?”

“Can you come visit soon?”

“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” he smiled. 

"When can you come down?" you asked, biting your nails.

"How about Friday?"

"Perfect."

------------------------------

When Patrick opened your dorm door, he found you studying over some material for a biology test.

"Hey beautiful," he smirked and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Hey Pat," you sighed. "How are you?"

"I'm good, happy to see you. How are you?"

You held back tears as you explained what had happened earlier that week, but when he pulled you into his arms you broke.

------------------------------

It felt good having Patrick fuck you. You didn't know how it had happened. One second he was comforting you about your fight with Tashi, the next his lips were on yours, the next you were being fucked into next week on your bed.

------------------------------

“So beautiful,” he smirked, pummelling into you. “So pretty like this, taking me so well.”

“Patrick-” you whined, grasping at the headboard of your bed as you bucked off the bed. You could feel every inch of him, and trust me, there was a lot. His fingers swirled over your needy clit as you bucked into his hips, fucking yourself onto his cock.

“Such a pretty girl, too pretty for Art,” he groaned into your neck. He took notice of how you clenched around him when he called you pretty. "You're too good for them, for both of them. Art and Tashi. I'll make you forget all about them, yeah pretty?"

You honestly could've cum for his words right there. He looked so good right now, a thin layer of sweat across his naked body, his curly hair on his forehead wet with sweat. “I-I’m gonna-” 

“You gonna cum? Come on, cum on my cock,” he whined. This is what he had wanted, he wanted to be with you, sure. But the sex was a big part of it too. You were drop-dead gorgeous, and from what Art had told him, you were incredible in bed. Art hadn’t lied.

It was all too much, too good. His hand on your waist, his way-too-big cock inside you hitting spots Art could only dream of hitting, his fingers swirling around your throbbing clit, it was all too good.

“Fuck!” you shouted and came around him with a shudder. He bit down on your neck as he came inside the condom, broken moans leaving both of your mouths as you rode out your highs. 

Patrick lay beside you, his hands wrapped around your bruising waist. 

“So…” you took a deep breath.

“I wanna go out with you,” he admitted. “Not just to get back at Tashi and Art, because I think you’re really interesting and special.”

You smiled. “Alright.”

“So, can I take you out on a date?”

“Yes.”

------------------------------

Everything was going wrong. "We want you to go pro," his coach smiled at him. He nodded, no excitement behind his blank expression.

"Can't wait," he plastered on a fake smile.

"You'll be represented by Nike, your female ambassador is Y/n Y/l/n. We're so excited for you."

Art smiled but it was fake. everyone knew it was fake. Seeing you at practice everyday was sure to kill him, if Tashi didn't first. Their relationship was slowly falling apart, and it was all because of him.

------------------------------

"I think we should see other people," Tashi sighed over dinner. Art just nodded along.

"I agree."

"You have to get over her Art, she's with Pat now-"

"What?" he snarled, venom in his confused voice.

"She and Patrick, they're going out now," she explained. "I told you-"

"No you didn't. You never told me."

Art's head was spinning, you were moving on. You were moved on. He'd lost you.

To Patrick.

Great.

------------------------------

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

#art donaldson x reader #art challengers #art donaldson #mike faist #mike faist x reader #challengers #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #challengers movie #tashi duncan #patrick zweig x reader #josh o'connor x reader

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part three

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

You haven’t done anything useful today. After last night, you really don’t know what to do. Should you talk about this with Lando or let it be? You have no idea. At this moment he isn’t home, you heard him leave pretty early this morning. Maybe he’s ignoring you? It feels like he is. There’s this part of you that understands him ignoring you. What would you do if you moaned out Lando his name and he heard? This has to be pretty awkward for him. 

You still can’t decide if you want to talk about it with Lando or not. It annoys you that you can’t think about anything else then Lando. And the worst part? Every time you think about him moaning out your name, you feel yourself getting flustered. That can’t be good. You can’t feel like this while thinking about Lando. It’ll make things only more confusing. 

Since you have met Lando, you think he’s a very confusing person. It’s mainly because he always seems to be in a different mood when he’s around you. Whenever you see Lando, you don’t know in which mood he will be. Sometimes he’s acting nicely, but other times he’s making you crazy with his teasing and rude remarks, and then you still have the moments when he’s flirting with you. It’s confusing. Lando is confusing. 

Thinking like this makes you remember earlier meetings between Lando and you. With nothing better to do, you let yourself think back about things that happened between the two of you. 

——-

“Lando, meet my sister y/n!” Max introduces you to a nice looking boy who’s standing closely to your brother, “and y/n, meet Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren and is one of my friends.” You take your time to look at Lando. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is. You try to shake off those thoughts, thinking about your boyfriend instead of the good looking boy in front of you. 

Lando is taking his time with looking at you as well. It isn’t the first time he sees you. Or at least, it’s the first time he sees you in real life and will talk to you. He never told his friend, Max, about the way he stalks your Instagram almost every day and how he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. 

He gives you a hand to introduce himself as well, you show him a small smile. The two of you make a bit of small talk. You slowly start to like Lando, he’s nice. You can understand why Max is friends with him, you hope you can become friends with him. It’s your phone which interrupts your conversation with Max and Lando. When you look at the screen, you notice it’s your boyfriend who’s calling. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my boyfriend,” you apologize before picking up the phone and walking away from Lando and Max. 

“Boyfriend?” Lando asks disappointed when he looks at you walking away. That wasn’t on your Instagram. It’s at that moment that Max starts to suspect that Lando already knew who you were and that he’s interested in getting to know you more.

+++

The following time Lando and you talk to each other, things are less nice. He’s spending time with your brother, playing some game on the playstation. You came home a bit ago, it was a harsh afternoon for you. After doubting for multiple weeks, you decided to break things off with your boyfriend. It wasn’t a nice breakup. Things got messy when your now ex-boyfriend started screaming at you. 

You greet Lando and Max, but you’re quickly interrupted by your phone once again. It’s your ex. He has already send you a couple messages and is now calling you. You’re quick to deny the call. 

“Boyfriend again?” Lando asks you jokingly.

You know that he couldn’t know what happened earlier today, but you can’t help yourself and sneer at him. “Ex,” you sneer. Max wants to ask you a thousand questions, but Lando is the first one who speaks up again. 

“Good.”

That didn’t make your mood better.

+++

Lando and you don’t click. Every time you’re in the same room with him, he seems to act all awkward or weird. Sometimes he teases you, other times he seems to shy to say anything. When you walk inside the living room, you notice him and Max looking at you. 

He can’t look away from you. Fuck, Lando thinks he’s going to lose it. You’re dressed in a tight fitting nude dress. It looks stunning on you. He wants to know where you’re going dressed like this, and even better he would want you to stay right here so no-one else will see you like this. Since you’re single, he’s trying to find a way to ask you on a date but he hasn’t succeeded yet. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say and acts all shy, while other times he can joke around with you for a bit but can’t come to his point. It’s the worst. 

“Where are you going?” Max asks you before Lando finds his tongue back. 

“I’m going on a date,” you tell Max. 

Lando doesn’t even realize that he’s speaking up what he’s thinking. “Already?” He asks confused, “It’s not even a month since you broke up with your boyfriend.” Fuck, when he realizes that he actually said those words he’s quick to feel ashamed of himself. Before he can apologize to you, you’re already replying. 

“Are you implying something Norris?” You ask him angrily.  Lando tries to deny it, but you’re quick to walk away from your brother and him. When they hear the door slam, Max sends his friend an confused look. 

That day Lando can’t stop thinking about you being on a date with someone. He wants to forget about it, but the alcohol doesn’t do anything. Standing in a club with some friends, his mind is still hang up on you. How would you date go? He was so glad about you being single, but it seems that it will be over soon. 

Later that night, with even more alcohol in his system, Lando dances with a nice looking girl. He drinks until he can’t walk straight anymore and takes the girl home with him. Is it bad that he can’t even remember her name? He can think about one thing only. Even when he’s balls deep into the girl, he can only think about you. Or more specifically, you in the tight nude dress. He’s fucked. 

+++

When he tells Max about the girl and the way he send her home after the sex, he didn’t knew you were listening as well. Before Max can respond, you’re picking an argument with Lando about the way he treated the girl. 

The following hours Lando realizes that he has fucked up things too many times around you. He should forget about you. It’s not like he has any chances left. Since that day Lando fell in some weird pattern of getting drunk whenever he could and fucking some random girls as a distraction from his feelings for you. Not that it helps. Whenever he sees you, he always feels ashamed about himself and his actions. Not that you know everything about it, but still. He doesn’t know how to behave around you. Sometimes he tries flirting with you, other times he tries to keep his distance. The worst times are when he argues with you. 

It’s not like you know about his feelings and why he’s acting like this. For you everything is just confusing and weird. 

——-

Mindlessly you’re swiping on Tinder. Since you’re still not doing much, you decided to swipe a bit on the app. You could use a date, it’s been a while since your last one. Not that you will be successful on Tinder, since everyone is accusing you of being a catfish or is sending dick picks within seconds after the match. You really should find another way to find dates. When you hear a soft knock on your door, you feel confused. Could it be that you didn’t notice Lando coming back home? 

You stand up and open the door. Apparently you really did miss Lando getting back. He’s standing in front of you. It takes you back to the dilemma you’re still having. Confront Lando or not about what happened? 

“Do you want to have dinner together?” Lando asks you. He almost seems nervous, but you guess that you’re imagining that. 

“That’s fine,” you tell Lando, now you think about it - you could eat something. You’re getting kinda hungry. “Should I cook?” You continue to ask. 

“No,” Lando quickly replies, “I’m going to cook.”

“Can you?” You ask surprised. You can lie about it, but your socials are often filled with content about Lando. Lately it has even been worse. TikTok has shown you multiple ‘thirst’ edits about him, which made you feel things you don’t even want to think about. And if it isn’t content like that, there’s also the videos of his streams, interviews and video’s. And those are exactly why you don’t think it’s smart for Lando to cook. 

“I don’t know,” Lando confesses with a soft laugh, “but how hard can it be to make a pasta?”

“I can help you if you want?” You offer. 

“That sounds like a safe thing to do,” Lando jokes.

Together you walk to the kitchen with Lando. He proudly shows you everything he has bought from the grocery story. Confused you look at all the stuff. You can’t even guess which pasta you’re about to make. There are so much groceries. He even has multiple sorts of pasta laying on the counter. 

“How many people are eating here?” You ask Lando confused. 

“Just us,” Lando informs you. 

“So, you bough four different pasta shapes, every vegetable that there is and three kinds of grated cheese for just the two of us?” You continue to ask.

“I didn’t know which one you liked,” Lando confesses.

“You could have called?” You laugh. 

Lando doesn’t respond anymore. He makes you chose which pasta you want to make with him. After choosing you ask Lando to chop up some onions. Something he clearly struggles with. you’re trying to hold back your laugh, but when Lando almost cuts in his own finger, you let out a loud laugh. Lando is quick to join you. Together you continue cooking. This time you don’t ask Lando to do anything else. Meaning he’s just looking at you while you’re cooking. Lando can’t stop staring at you. He can’t hold back his feelings when he looks at you finding your own way in his apartment. How nice would it be if you were always here? If this would be your home as well? 

When the two of you are eating together a bit later, Lando is showering you in compliments about the pasta. Eventually he even lets out a soft moan while taking a bite of the food. It reminds you of last night. Only thinking about the way Lando moaned your name, makes you feel all kind of things. Fuck. That can’t be good. Lando also thinks about last night, he still feels ashamed about what happened. He wants to apologize for what happened, but he can’t find the right words.

“So, are you already getting used to the apartment?” Lando asks you eventually. It’s not the subject he wanted to speak up about, but maybe he can talk about this first with you? It would be nice to have a normal conversation with you. 

“Kinda,” you answer honestly, “It doesn’t feel like home, but it’s not bad.” Lando nods understandingly in the mean time. “A good night sleep will probably be nice as well,” you add jokingly. 

“Yeah, about that,” Lando starts unsure, “I’m sorry about the last two nights.”

“It’s still your home Lando,” you tell him, “It’s already nice of you that I can stay here, you don’t have to change everything for me.”

“Still,” Lando sighs, “I’ll try to better it, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” you softly say. 

Lando shows you a small smile. “And I want you to feel more at home here,” he continues to tell you, “Does it already feels a bit like home for you?” 

“Not yet,” you confess, “I miss the way my own room looks and the decor stuff and things.”

“You know you can decorate it here as well, right? I really don’t mind if you change some things around the place,” Lando tells you.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask surprised.

“No babygirl,” Lando is quick to reply, “I wouldn’t even care if you painted the whole living room pink if that would make you feel more at home.”

At that moment you didn’t really think about what Lando said, but later his words would repeat themselves in your head. Does he really care that much about you feeling at home here?

+++

“Lando?” 

He doesn’t hear you. There isn’t any response coming from the other side of the door. You don’t know what is happening in Lando his room. You only know that he’s alone and that you heard him scream. What’s going on? You knock loudly on his door, but there’s still no response. When you call out his name again, it doesn’t change. You do however hear him yell again. It’s loud and almost feels painful. 

You decide to open the door and to get inside. What if Lando is hurt? When you open the door, Lando is laying in his bed. He doesn’t move up. It seems like he’s asleep. His breathing is loud and fast, maybe even too fast? You wonder if he’s having a nightmare, that would explain the screaming from before. 

Slowly you move yourself closer to Lando his bed. Should you awake him? When you hear him softly whimpering, you decide to awake Lando. You walk until you’re next to his bed, softly you grab his shoulders and start to shake him.

“Lando,” you say a couple times.

Then he’s finally awake. 

“Y/N?”

Lando gives you a confused look. He has no idea what’s going on. Why are you standing in front of him? How did you even get her? Minutes before you were yelling to him, right? The realization hits him that none of that really happened. He just had a bad dream. Maybe you heard him and came to check? 

“Hey,” you softly say, “are you okay?”

“I guess,” Lando mutters, “Did I keep you awake again?” 

“It’s no problem,” you quickly reply, “it sounded like you had a bad dream.”

“Kinda,” Lando confesses. He thinks back about his dream. Even his bad dreams are about you. That’s pathetic. You were screaming and yelling at him, he tries to remember why. Then he remembers the context of his dream. What started like a nice dream in which he was dating you, ended with him disappointing you and having a fight with you. 

“Want to talk about it?” You ask Lando.

“It’s not like you care,” Lando replies without thinking about his words. When he looks at you and notices the hurt expression on your face, he can slap himself out of frustration. Why does he always do this? “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologizes, “Sorry babygirl.”

You try to ignore his earlier words. “Maybe we can watch something together? Take your mind of the nightmare,” you suggest. 

Lando feels himself getting excited. “That sounds great,” he tells you happily, “Do you want to go to the living room or?”

“Or?”

“I have a tv here as well,” Lando tells you while pointing at the television on the wall behind you. “So we can also watch here in my bed,” he explains. 

“What do you want?” You ask Lando. The idea of getting in the same bed with him scares you, but also seems nice. Lando is rather quickly with his answer. He moves himself more to the side of his bed and makes room for you. Without any words you get yourself on his bed. 

Together you search a video on YouTube to watch. You try to get comfortable in Lando his bed, but you can’t seem to find your comfort. Lando watches you. He tries to figure out a way to get you in his arms, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s still distracted by the thought that you came here to figure out if he was okay. That must mean something right? Not something big, but at least you don’t hate him? 

“Come here princess,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. He lifts his arm up. Hopefully you understand what he means. You doubt for a few seconds, but the need for a comfortable spot is high and Lando looks pretty comfortable. So you move yourself closer towards Lando and search for a position in his arms. When your head is laying on his chest, Lando drapes his arm around your body. Softly he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for coming here to check on me,” Lando tells you. You show him a small smile, “Of course Lan.”

“Lan?” He asks you confused. Since when do you have a nickname for him? 

“Is it bad?”

“No,” Lando quickly says, “please keep calling me that.”

The two of you focus on the YouTube video again. When it’s over Lando wants to ask you what you want to see next, but when he looks at you he discovers that you’re already sleeping. There’s a smile growing on his face. Fuck, you look cute like this. And even better, you’re in his arms. Lando puts the television off. Then he’s quick to join you and falls asleep. He wonders what tomorrow will bring, but after today he finally has the idea that he grow a bit closer towards you. Now he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up again. 

a/n ; bit of a background story, next chapters will have more tension :)

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#lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines

[ickadori]

ex-husband gojo who refuses to move on from you and refuses to let you do the same.

it had been a nasty divorce at first - insults and curses had been thrown back and forth, love had been questioned, characters had been attacked. emotions had run high, and there had been too many irons left on, too many pots threatening to boil over for him to handle it how he should have, so in the end, he had decided to give you everything and more you had asked for in the divorce.

you had asked for a small portion of the funds, stating that while you knew he had been the one to bring home majority of the funds, it was only fair that you got something.

he had split the funds 70/30 with you getting the 70. he still deposited a large chunk of his money into the joint checking account that neither of you had bothered closing.

you had asked to take the painting in the foyer as well as the chinaware in the cabinets, and he had given you the whole house, along with the vacation one way out in the mountains.

you had asked for the porsche that was a few years too old for his personal preference, and he had traded it in for a current year and left it parked in the driveway. he’d show up sometimes, unannounced, and take it to the shop for you because he knows you always forget to change the oil, rotate the tires and top up on air.

he knew it wouldn’t make up for the neglect and absence you had put up with for so long, but it was a start - a hefty present from him to you that he had hoped would pave the way for forgiveness.

and it had, of course it had, you were so forgiving - that’s one of the things he loved about you.

you had agreed to keep in touch, just to make sure he hadn’t finally gotten himself killed (as if), and the texts had been sparse and formal in the beginning, but that had never been gojo’s game, and soon enough he was joking with you just like before. before the two of you had ventured into the territory of flirting and everything that came with it.

texts turned to phone calls that lasted into the late hours of the night, you asleep on the receiver and gojo recording your snores so he could make fun of you in the morning.

phone calls quickly turned into brunch dates—

“it’s not a date, satoru. it’s a friendly gathering between two friends.”

—friendly gatherings, and that turned into late dinners because he had a habit of skipping meals, and you had a habit of forcing him to make up for those skipped meals, fussing all the while you topped his plate off with a home cooked meal.

late dinners turned into early breakfasts because—

“it’s too late to drive…why don’t you stay the night? you can sleep on the couch.”

and the couch, of course, had turned into your bed, his bed, our bed—the bed he had laid you down in time and time again. the bed that had heard your pleasures, your sadness, your anger, your happiness, your confessions.

the bed that he had told you he loved you in for the first time: early in the morning when the sun had only just began to peek in through the window, when his hair had been matted down on one side and fluffy on the other from sleep, when you had drool at the corner of your mouth and crust in your eyes. he had told you then. rosy cheeked and tired in the eyes — “i think i love you.” “you think?” “i know.”

the bed that he would now renew his vows to you in—confess his love for you once again and promise to do it differently this time around. you wouldn’t even have to marry him again (you had never divorced in his mind - that paper hadn’t meant a thing when his heart still resided in your care), he just wanted a chance, a redo, an opportunity to treat you the way he should have from the moment he said i do.

and you’d give it to him, wouldn’t you?

#gojo x reader #idk who this reader is bc i would never divorce gojo and risk losing that clan money #could never be me

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: a lil workplace visit can’t be that bad, right?

warnings: cussing, links to pinterest. a lil short, sorry!

saint’s team radio 🎀: hiiiii there. thank you for all the love on virgo’s groove, i truly love each and everyone of you! hope you enjoy this, babies!

pls like, comment and reblog!

dividers from @cafekitsune

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

renaissance: the series masterlist 🪩

Lewis had missed his wife, terribly so.

Often being reminded by most, that his companion was not next to him as much as she was the last two weeks. He never tired talking about her in any sense and to anyone who would listen. By now, she would’ve spoken about her students or a joke that her friends used to tell as she attended university many years ago. Possibly a song she was thinking about or a candy she tried from the hotel in Miami.

He had missed the bright smile she often displayed at anyone who was open to receiving it or whenever she spoke of her new friends. Lewis had realised she had quite the loud laugh, contradicting her quiet voice, and how she would laugh at his jokes, a quiet wheeze at first then a boisterous laugh following right after. He had also missed how she would slip into one of her many home languages whenever she spoke and how she would derail the conversation to explain every little thing in that specific language.

Surprisingly so, he liked seeing that she was spending his money, even after trying to convince her that it was totally okay. Lewis also liked how she would send little updates on her day just as he did as well, talking about how she’s constantly stopped in the streets for pictures and how shocked she always was that people recognised her.

He also liked the rambles she had whenever they got the chance to facetime. Making her blush at his words was always a sight to see and how she would try do it back but her giggles held her back.

Lewis missed Nadia. A lot.

Sitting in his hotel room in Barcelona, he stared at the suitcases that were waiting right by the door. He checked his carry on once again to check that the little gifts he got her were okay. The specific hoodie he was wearing still had faint scents of her perfume, making Lewis feel giddy to get home. Months ago, he would’ve always said that the world is his home but ever since he met Nadia, he could feel his smile get larger as his thoughts go on.

Managing to get a podium, just as he promised her, he remembered her excitement and astonishment when he explained how many he actually had. She went on to tell him that she’ll make celebratory baked goods for whenever he gets back. Lewis knew that he was distracted when he attended a dinner with some friends after the race, his phone couldn’t be separated from his hands. All that was on his mind was seeing her.

-

“I know we initially removed the second question from the assignment but the board brought it forward that it needs to be done.” As soon as Nadia finished her sentence, her year 12 students groaned loudly.

“It didn’t make sense to me either but because you’re my kiddies, I’ll research when I get home and just get a memo so you don’t have to worry. Even if you all write the same thing, it’s okay.” She assured, walking to her desk after handing out the ‘new’ assignment papers.

“Uh, Ms Brown. You said this can be typed out, right?” A hand that was raised asked. Before the teacher could answer, someone interjected.

“It’s Mrs Hamilton, Tash.” That made a few students laugh. Nadia would never get used to hearing herself being referred to that. Every time she even woke up in that house, it was unbelievable.

With a little chuckle, she put her pen down. “Thank you, Kim. But yes, it needs to be typed out and don’t forget to make a cover, everyone.” Picking up her pen once again, Nadia went on to work on the question that troubled the whole class.

Silence fell and all that was heard was faint music coming from some kid’s headphones as they worked on their assignment or their homework, Nadia never had an issue if they needed to complete other tasks from their other classes.

Glancing at the clock on her desk, there were at least two hours of school left but luckily, she only had a few classes that day and was able to go home early. An empty large mansion but it was home. Craving the vanilla macrons she made yesterday, Nadia was more than excited to get home.

It was also the day that she expected her husband back home from Spain. Mondays usually went slower than the usual but she pushed her excitement to the back of her head as she continued to work. There was still some time left with her favourite class so she relaxed in her seat.

Nadia’s phone kept buzzing with text messages as she typed away on her laptop, sending an apologetic look to the students who’s heads whipped at the distracting sounds. Picking it up, all she saw was messages from Maggie, the school office admin, sending through messages that basically implied that she was shaking, she was excited and constantly repeated ‘girllllll’.

The class was now interested in whatever was going on because Nadia’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was nothing she was aware of unless the principal wanted to talk to her about something but that was even more confusing.

A knock echoed through the classroom and she gave the student closest to the door a signal to open it and he froze at the door, seemingly starstruck. All the kids then leaned outside their desks to see and they began screaming in excitement at whoever was at the door. The figure walked in the door and Nadia’s stomach dropped at the sight.

“Oh my days, Lewis Hamilton is in my class!”

-

After eventually calming down the class who were still shocked and buzzing at the fact that Lewis was there, he offered to take pictures with everyone and even brought them doughnuts that he had left outside the class in hopes to surprise them. He locked eyes with his wife and made his way to her, signalling to the kids that he’d be right back to take pictures.

Nadia threw her arms around his waist as soon as Lewis was close enough, he kissed through her wig then her forehead, completely aware that the kids were watching and recording. “I don’t wanna get fired, Lew.” Nadia spoke, facing away from her students.

“I had a word with the principal, you’re good.” He reassured, patting her back. Winking at her as he went back to the excited kids, she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She also realised how spontaneous he was because he really just showed up to her work like he forgot who he was.

Getting home was a bit of a challenge, the rest of the school caught wind of his appearance and that was a mission in itself. To Nadia’s luck, school was still in session and she could get home early with her husband by her side. The deal was that Lewis would come speak to the kids one day in exchange for his spontaneity.

Climbing out of the Range Rover that she drove herself to school in, Lewis held her hand to the front door where his suitcases were waiting to be let in. It felt all so domestic like they’ve done this a thousand times before, taking off their shoes right by the door and she immediately slipped into her slides. The home smelt like a mixture of her sweet perfume, cookies and the ocean scented incense she bought for the house.

“Welcome home!” Nads turned around after dropping all her things on the kitchen island to throw her arms around his neck for the physical touch they had been waiting for. They melted into the hug, faces digging into each other’s necks, engulfing each other with their warmth. The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity before letting go eventually. “That felt good, wow.” Lewis said, his eyes taking in every part of her face.

He had missed her so much.

“Right? It felt like a month apart. How are you feeling? Spain was something else.” Nadia smiled, still unable to look at him in his eyes. Before he could answer, he knew he couldn’t just outright say anything to her yet. Lewis couldn’t tell her that he’s falling for her so quickly, so much so that he wanted to shout it out to the world. He did that already, the world just doesn’t know that all of this isn’t real.

“I’ve been alright, just wanted to come back home and relax. Getting that podium though,” Lewis breathed out. “Please, you made it look flawless.” Nadia interrupted, with a ‘duh’ expression on her face. He couldn’t help but genuinely smile at that.

She walked further into the kitchen and he followed after her like a puppy, waiting for her to do anything. “I made you vegan vanilla macrons for your podium and my non-vegan ones are in a different lunch box.” Nadia tapped the lunch box labelled ‘vegan’ with her freshly done nails then placed it on the kitchen counter.

“Ohh shit, I forgot I got you something else as well!”

Nadia ran up towards the stairs, spewing out the words as Lewis watched her with a smile on his face, leaning his head on his hand. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the living room, he waited for her.

Quick steps of her sandals echoing throughout the main floor, she came through with a medium sized box in hand, a proud smile on her face as she plopped herself right next to him on the couch. “So. You know how I said that I love sourcing for archives in fashion or the latest pieces that are just tough to find?” Nadia started.

“Yeah…..” Lewis responded with a slight lift of his eyebrow.

“This is a gift I want to give to you since you did so good in Spain but I got it like days before the podium so I had to pray that you did good.” She added, unable to contain her smile as she handed the box to him. Sitting down quite close to each other, she watched as Lewis carefully ripped the gift wrap.

He was smiling before he fully opened his gift. “I can feel you just jumping’ in excitement.” Lewis said, his natural accent and voice coming into light. The same voice he used to when he felt right at home.

Eventually putting all the gift wrap to the side, he faced the box in curiosity, opening it and being prepared to see anything. “You’re joking.” Lewis said in shock, staring at Nadia who’s smile was brighter than the sun itself. “It was tough finding these but I do hope you like them, Lew.” She responded.

“These were made-“ “By Virgil, yep. I knew that you guys had a good friendship so when I came across these, they reminded me of you guys.” She informed and giggled at Lewis constantly looking back and forth at the shoes. The Nike x Louis Vuitton air force one was apart of a collection released in honour of Virgil Abloh, Lewis’ friend and Nadia’s inspiration in the fashion world.

Lewis couldn’t contain himself and stood up abruptly, pulling Nadia with him to wrap his arms around her and give her an even warmer hug. A bit shocked, Nadia quickly recovered and returned the same energy towards him. “Thank you, Nads, truly. Not just for the shoes but just…everything.”

“Anytime, pookie bear.” Nadia moved her head to look directly into his eyes, focusing on every crevice of her face. Looking down at her neck, he caught a glimpse of shining silver jewellery sitting pretty on her neck, only used to seeing gold pieces only.

“Is that 44 on your necklace?” He pointed it out, looking back and forth between her face and her jewellery. “Oh! Yeah, I wanted it to match my ring. The world is getting familiar with this face, might as well add to it.” Nadia said with a smug smile and Lewis had to collect himself but he realised he was right home.

Adding a little chuckle, he lowered his large hands from the middle of her back to her ass then her thighs, getting a yell out of her when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Wanna get the neighbour familiar with you?” Lewis smirked, licking his lips at the same time.

“Let’s get right to it, Sir.” She responded, giggling as he started rushing to the bedroom, holding onto her tightly as they went up the stairs.

-

lewishamilton

lewishamilton a week filled with love and joy. canada, here we come ~

tagged: @/nadiahamilton

view all comments

nadiahamilton i look too good 🤭

lewishamilton you always do

nadiahamilton omg STAWWP 🥹

user dawg this is so unfair, you don’t get it

fencer my best friends 🥹

liked by lewishamilton

user mother and father

kehlani sleep with one eye open, mister

lewishamilton it’s sir

kehlani i’m still taking your wife, leprechaun 🫵🏽

user seeing you two in Canada!!

user this man is too gone, bridgerton level simp

user well duh, if you were with Nadia, you’d be too

lewishamilton this is true, she hung up the moon and the stars

user OOOOHHHHHH LEWISSSSSS 🙂‍↕️

chunks your home is so beautiful, thanks champ 🫡

user lewis is friends with the beta squad????

user they’re nadia’s friends

louisvuitton hope you loved your gift! 🤍

lewishamilton it was gifted by Nads so it was the best 🫶🏽

user you guys are so cute, it HURTS

canadagrandprix thee it couple

mercedesamgf1 has more stories about Nadia than the Spanish gp, we have to respect it

badgalriri got a problem? 🤨

user they got Riri clocking they asses 😭😭😭

nadiahamilton

nadiahamilton i’m the cooler one

view all comments

tyla you’re the coolest of them all 😝

nadiahamilton love you always!!

nellarose_ that french vanilla cake you made? signing you up for masterchef rn!

nadiahamilton girl pls 😭

user you guys remember when the wags called her tinkerbell? she literally is tinkerbell in real life 😭

user and she smells like money and sweet flowers ‼️

nataliatheedon come back to America rn

nadiahamilton canada’s the best i can do 😣

user i feel like a certain canadian rapper is gonna show up lol

user i’m from toronto and there’s a rumour that lewis’ people are blocking off that rapper from getting near nadia because he keeps reposting her pics lollllll

user no ways lewis actually has shooters???

user he’s Lewis, what did you expect? 😭

zendaya mother graced us with her presence once again

nadiahamilton love you Z 😚

louisvuitton 🤍🤍

sza hand in marriage?

lilymhe omg hiii, let’s redo monaco?

lewishamilton hi sweetheart

nadiahamilton hi my love

user PARENTS

saint’s notes 🪩: heyyyy babies! this is one is quite short lol but i hope you enjoyed! love u all 😚 also noticed the colour schemes for their insta posts? 🫡

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @thisismeracing @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @royallyprincesslilly @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1

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#saint writes #renaissance: the series #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #x black oc #f1 x oc #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being kind and civil with people who drive me insane?

So this is something that happens all the time and it's a pattern so to save your time, I'll only mention the one incident which that I got called out for several times, it's starting to make me think I might be TA.

I (34F) work in a grocery store. Maddy (???F) works in the security department and is in charge for looking through our grocery to ensure we didn't steal anything (our workplace is uncomfortably strict about this since many employees have stole in the past) She is very rude, I never liked her. She makes me so uncomfortable a lot because she yells all the time. At everyone. She never realized how offensive she is.

Anyway, sometimes I'd walk past her after my shift forgetting that I'm carrying grocery bags etc and she'd yell at me to get back there. It's always embarrassing because anyone who witnesses that would most likely assume I'm a shoplifter because of the way she's yelling. She yells about other stuff too mind you, don't think I always forget the fact I'm carrying grocery. They don't allow us to bring our bags inside and we have to keep them in our locker (according to her, I never heard this elsewhere). She yells at me if I try to take my purse with me if I'm in a hurry. She says it's ~the rules~ and we need to follow them but like, she the only security staff who's this strict about it. The others don't even bother to check our groceries because they trust we don't shoplift and it's actually stupid because we could still shoplift anyway and hide the items in our pockets and they don't perform a body check anyway (they used to in the past but were legally required to stop because of Covid).

How do I deal with her though? Every time she'd yell, I reply to her very calmly and attempt small talk to absorb her anger. For example, if she's angry about my grocery, I'd show them to her and ask stuff like "what is you favorite brand of milk/bread/egg etc etc"

She does engage but it never made her actually stop and think about her behaviors for a single second. I have always stopped to chat with her whenever I can and she always speaks calmly when I do, but returns to yelling when I "break the rules" as she says.

But here's the thing. My patience is limited. I'm like a battery, if you keep charging me, I'll eventually explode. I planned remaining civil with Maddy forever, but enough is enough and I accidentally lashed out. I lashed out on her ONCE only, I yelled much louder than she did, for 30 minutes, lecturing her about work etiquette. She was so surprised and taken aback. She told me "where did this all come from?" Like she didn't see it coming? She seriously mistook my patience and tolerance of her behaviors for friendliness. And that was the last time we talked, I reported her to HR the next day because I don't think she'll ever get the memo, and that's when I learned thst so many employees have complained about her already but they can't fire her because she an outsource and has strong connections in her company, management has already talked to her numerous times but she just doesn't listen, so don't call me TA for not communicating, it doesn't work with her.

My friend Gloria (28F) and many others including our manager (F30s) told me I should've not been chatting with her, I should just ignore her and disengage. They think the fact I'm talking kindly to her will just make her assume she isn't doing anything wrong and encourage her to keep behaving like that, and that she'd think I want to be friends??? None of that is my intention. I just want to be civil to her to indirectly get her to realize her behaviors weren't acceptable. I'm setting a good example for her, to learn from me how she should treat people and soften her heart.

I was called TA because they said I didn't have to be civil with her if I knew I might eventually lash out (but lashing out isn't something I planned??), and I should've just avoided her and set boundaries. Gloria told me it's an AH move to go out of my way to interact to someone I despise when ignoring them is an option and that makes me two faced and makes the people around me wonder if I truly like them or I'm basically tolerating them, but this wouldn't happen if I they weren't rude in the first place?

BTW a similar thing eventually happened with Gloria because her attitude sucked with me and I lashed out eventually because enough is enough, she said she should've known not to trust me because of how I treated Maddy and I shouldn't have befriended her if I "hated" her so much. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #eyestrain

[steddiecameraroll]

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

Eddie acts like it's not eating away at him. This thing with Steve. They're friends, but friends don't screw each other's brains out. Do they?

Eddie wants to know what they are. Because he's not sure his heart is going to last much longer under the current circumstances.

Sure, he could ask Steve if they're the matching tattoos kinda thing or just a number written on a hand kinda thing. He hasn't yet, though. He's been spending months asking himself in his own head, hoping the answer would appear one day. It hasn't.

Jeff says Eddie's doing this to himself, has scolded him plenty of times since Eddie started whining about the situation. Eddie doesn't want to admit Jeff's right, but it's getting to the point he's not going to be able to ignore it much longer.

Every time Eddie slides into the driver side of his van after a night with Steve, his heart cracks a little bit more. This morning will, most likely, be no different.

"So, I'm going to head out."

"Yeah, OK." Steve smiles at him, his favorite coffee cup cradled in his hands, and Eddie could crawl into the man's lap and never leave but instead, he gives Steve a nod and spins on his heels.

Steve doesn't follow him to the door. He hasn't since they started messing around, but Eddie wishes he would. He thinks it would be nice getting that sweet goodbye kiss. Then being able to look at the front door when he's pulling away from the curb, and seeing Steve smiling at him and waving.

When did Eddie become such a romantic?

None of this bothered him at first. Nope, totally OK with the whole thing, but it's almost like every touch of Steve's lips or grip of his fingers compounds breaking Eddie's resolve.

Honestly, it fucking hurts.

But he’s a big boy so he sucks it up and keeps his head down, trudging to the door. He’s done this multiple times a week for months now. This morning isn’t any different.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s feet stop along with his heart. He’s pleading desperately in his head, when he turns to see Steve standing at the end of the hallway. He looks as nervous as Eddie’s feeling.

“Would you- do you maybe wanna hang out today? If you have plans or whatever,” Steve scrunches his face. “I thought y’know, if you didn’t have any plans, we could hang out. Or g-go do something, together? If you wanted.”

“Yeah,” the word comes out on a puff of air. “I’d love to, actually.”

And the smile that appears on Steve’s face is blinding, written in the stars bright. Maybe Steve’s wondering too, been keeping distance between their hearts for safe keeping, and not because of lack of want.

“Just to be super clear,” Eddie takes a cautious step toward Steve. “This isn’t just hanging out, right?”

“Um,” Steve presses his lips together and gives a tight shrug. “What do you mean?”

Eddie stops moving once he’s standing in front of Steve. He wants to trust his gut, knows he should because it’s never steered him wrong before, but Steve’s hiding it so well. He needs to know for sure, so he reaches his hand out to take the tips of Steve’s fingers. Once their skin touches, he hears a soft sharp inhale from Steve and gets his answer.

Eddie pulls Steve closer until they’re wrapping their arms around each other. “Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“Hmm?” Steve leans his face into Eddie’s neck and slides his hands up the muscles of the man’s back.

Eddie can’t find the right words. This feels like it means something. This moment, as they hold each other with no motivation other than to touch, feels more intimate than anything they’ve done in Steve’s bedroom.

Eddie squeezes his arms tightly around Steve’s body, silently begging to never make him let go. “I wanna stay. Please, let me stay.” He’s whispering so quietly he’s not sure Steve can hear him.

Steve nods in Eddie’s neck while pressing a soft kiss against the skin. “I don’t want you to go. I never want you to go.”

Eddie huffs, squeezes his eyes together, and pulls Steve in somehow tighter. “Me either.”

Steve untucks and pulls back to make eye contact. “Will you go on a date with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#might’ve gotten an old dominion ear worm stuck in my head #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #my writing

[undercoverpena]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers best friend

Warning: Language, a little violence etc, smut later on

Word Count: 3k

“Jisung!” You yell from your room, covering your ears with your pillow. If he didn't shut the fuck up, you were going to lose it. “Jisung!” You scream again. Angrily, you crawl out of your bed, stomping your way across the hallway to his room. You try to open the door but the door is locked. You pound on the door, anger flowing through you.

“Open the door!” You yell, pounding even harder. Finally the door swings open, your brother looking annoyed.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks, rubbing his face.

“I have an exam tomorrow. I can't sleep with the fucking music coming from your room.” You yell. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wear some headphones then.” Jisung scoffs.

“I swear to fucking..” you pause, as Jisungs best friends comes to the door.

“Feeling feisty tonight, are we?” Minho chuckles, moving past your brother and out of his room.

“Yeah I am, watch out.” You snap, stomping back to your room, slamming the door behind you.

Your parents had been gone for months for work, and unfortunately for you Jisung had decided to slack off at school despite school only being in for 3 months. He was partying constantly and having his degenerate friends over at the house all the time. Lee Know, or Minho was the worst of them all and he never fucking left.

He was an arrogant, annoying, selfish, violent, short tempered man who you disliked the most out of all Jisung’s friends. The two of them were a few years older than you, both supposed to be in University but the way things were currently going, you didn't know how much longer either of them were going to be enrolled. You however were in your first year at the same University and you were not going to take your opportunity for granted. You wanted to get out of this town and move away onto bigger and better things.

As the volume of the music is finally lowered, you get comfortable in your bed, easily falling asleep, finally.

The next morning you're up early, deciding payback was much needed for keeping you up half the night. As you're hopping around your room, singing along to your loud music, getting ready for class, you faintly hear a pounding on your door. You laugh to yourself as you make your way, ripping the door open, seeing an annoyed Minho standing there, shirtless with a pair of sweats on.

“It's 7am.” He deadpans.

“And?” You ask.

“I've been sleeping for 2 hours.” He groans. “Turn it down.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” you begin. “Also, last I checked, this isn't your house.” You smile, closing the door in his face before he can say anything. You head to your stereo, turning the music down, for a few minutes until you felt like he was comfortable in bed again, starting to doze off and you turned it up again. Not long after you turned it off completely, heading to the kitchen to grab a banana before you headed to the bus stop. You wanted to get to school a little earlier than usual, taking time to go over your psychology notes for your exam, one last time.

“Y/N.” You hear from behind you in the library. You turn around, seeing your best friend, Hyunjin, standing there with bags under his eyes, holding a mass amount of papers, and looking extremely uneasy.

“Hyunjin.. what happened?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the poor man looking so defeated.

“it's literally the 3rd month of school, and I'm going to fucking flunk out.” He gasps, sitting next to you.

“No you're not.” You chuckle, flipping over your notes to look at the backside.

“I tried to study all night but I kept falling asleep. Why did I come here? I hate it.” He pouts. You shake your head at the man, focusing on your notes.

“Well.” You sigh. “At this rate, I'll be failing with you. Minho was at my house again last night. He and Jisung were blasting music until all hours.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Minho was at your house?” Your other friend, Jisoo gasps, pulling up a chair beside you. “You're so lucky.”

“He's so fucking annoying.” You retort.

“But he's so hot.” Jisoo grins.

You ignored her last comment, you didn't want to vocally agree with her, because the last thing you needed was for your words to get back to him and inflate his head more than it already was.

“And to be honest, so is your brother. Is he single?” She asks.

“He's single. But I'm going to tell you not to go there because I don't want you to stop being my friend.” You laugh. “He's a terrible human being.”

“But he's hot.” Jisoo swoons, batting her eyes at you.

“Gross.” You sigh, looking at your phone. You gather your things off the table, dragging Hyunjin behind you to your psychology classroom.

“Please, Y/N.” He begs from behind you. You turn your head to look at him, giggling at the pitiful man who is usually so confident. This exam really has him fucked up. You turn your head again to look where you're going, and bump into someone, knocking your papers and bag to the floor.

“Ugh, I'm so sorry.” You sigh, bending down to pick up your things. You look up, seeing Minho glare down at you. You roll your eyes instantly, scoffing. “Actually I'm not sorry.” You say, finishing picking everything up. You stand up, Minho still staring at you but now smiling. Hyunjin comes up beside you, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

“Come on.” He says, pulling you away from Minho, who still hadn't said a word to you, but the smile never left his face.

“You got this.” You say to Hyunjin, your hands on his shoulders as you both take deep breaths outside your classroom door.

“So do you.” He breathes. “Drinks after?” He asks. You glance at your watch, 12:58pm. You should be done by 4pm..

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You grin as the two of you make your way into the class.

3 hours later, you both emerge from the room, disheveled hair, sweat and tear stains present on both of you.

“How did..” Hyunjin starts. You put your hand up to stop him.

“Not yet. Shots..lots of shots.” You whimper. The two of you link arms, heading for the pub down the street from campus.

Hours later, you stumble home. As you stand in your yard you see lights flashing inside, and you can hear the bass thumping from the street. Jisung would throw a party on a random Thursday. That's just what he does. You quickly text Hyunjin and Jisoo to come over and party with you, both of them replying that they'll be there soon. You head inside, your brother spots you immediately.

“Y/N.. it's only just started. Don't shut me down.” He fake cries. You glare at him, seeing Minho walk up behind him. A few of his other friends were standing around, a lot of other people you didn't know also staring at you.

“Let's do some fucking shots!” You yell, making your way to the kitchen, hearing the cheers from the party goers. You walk past a chuckling Minho on your way to the kitchen. You glare at him before grabbing his sleeve, pulling him in there with you and a few others to take some shots. As you're about to do your second one, Hyunjin and Jisoo walk in. You were already drunk from your after exam drunks with Hyunjin, and now you were feeling it even more.

“Jinnie.” You squeal, putting your arms out for a hug. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Instantly you hear Jisoo’s flirty voice come to play, you break the hug to turn around and see Jisoo and Jisung tucked in a corner talking.

That made you want to vomit. You turn back towards the group taking shots, quickly pouring one for Hyunjin before you all take it. “Let's dance!” You yell, walking past Minho with Hyunjin in tow. You're dancing, laughing and just all around having a good time but you can't help but notice Minho standing against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on you. They roamed up and down your body as he watched you dance, and you hated that the way he was looking at you, that the way he was biting his lip was turning you on so much.

“I'm gonna get a drink.” You tell Hyunjin, making your way to the kitchen. You feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you down the hallway instead.

“You looked really hot out there.” a guy tells you. You have no clue who this dude was, and frankly you were not interested.

“Thanks.” You respond, turning back towards the kitchen.

He grabs you again. “I wasn't done talking to you.” He half laughs.

You can feel the annoyance building up inside of you. “But I'm done.” You say, trying to walk away again. His grip tightens, pushing you against the wall.

“I'm trying to get to know you better.” He scoffs. “Don't be so rude.”

“I'm not interested.” You tell him, as if your current lack of interest wasn't enough.

He stares at you, refusing to move, not saying a word. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to say to you next. Before he can get his words out, he's shoved away from you, sliding down the floor of the hallway. Your mouth hangs open as you turn to look and see who your savior was.

Minho stands there, his eyes practically shooting daggers into the man.

“Are you fucking dumb, Changbin?” Minho asks.

“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin scoffs, scrambling up off the floor.

“That's Jisung's little sister you fucking moron.” Minho snaps, pointing at you.

“Oh shit.. I'm sorry! I didn't know!” He panics. Your eyes bounce between the two men, not sure why Changbin sounded so scared of your idiot brother.

“I'll let you off this time.” Minho starts. “If I catch you near her again, I will beat the fucking shit out of you.” He finishes. Changbin nods his head before running off into the crowd.

“You okay?” Minho asks as you rub your wrist. You nod your head.

“Yeah.. thanks.” You smile, returning to the party. The rest of the night, wherever you went, Minho was there, off in the distance watching you. You weren't uncomfortable from it but you did wish that he would go and enjoy himself. He didn't need to keep an eye on you, and as you got drunker, you decided to let him know.

“You.. keep staring.” You hiccup, placing your hand on the wall by his head. He smirks as he looks at you, barely able to stand up straight, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were a goddamn mess.

“Let's get you to bed, mhm?” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you up the stairs. As you're walking up, you unfortunately see Jisung and Jisoo locking lips, making all the drinks you had all night threaten to come up.

“Get a room you sick fucks.” You slur, walking past them. Jisoo comes up for air looking embarrassed but only for a second before Jisung steals her attention back. Minho helps you to your room, you stand in the middle, your arms up high. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the fuck you were waiting for.

“I can't sleep in my clothes.” You whine. “but I'll fall if I undress myself.” You pout.

Minho reluctantly walks towards you, grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your pants. He moves his hands down towards the button of your jeans. You hop back a little, almost losing your balance as you laugh, hysterically.

“Funny.” He fake chuckles, moving towards you again. You grab onto his arm, spinning yourself around to his back, sliding your hands up and down his body. You reach around to his stomach, moving your hands under his shirt, running them over his abs.

“Ugh.” You groan at the feeling.

He quickly turns around facing you once again, a smile spread across his face. You knew he wanted to be mad at you but he couldn't.

“Take your pants off or I'm gonna throw you down onto the bed and take them off for you.” He threatens. You blush, hard.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Minho reaches out for you, grabbing you by the waist of your jeans, pulling you towards him. “It's a little of both.” He tells you as he tries to undo your button. You were having too much fun in the moment, you didn't want it to end just yet. You grab his hands, pushing him away from you, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair. He has never seen this giggling playful side of you before, and he was enjoying the fuck out of it.

“Y/N.” He says sternly, his hands on his hips.

“Minho.” You say, putting your hands on your hips, pushing your hip out, pursing your lips. He's trying to remain serious but he can't. He starts laughing as he rubs his face, groaning in frustration.

“Take off your pants!” He yells.

“Yes sir!” You giggle as you take off your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. Minho hands you a pair of pj shorts that he grabbed from your dresser. You semi quickly put them on before turning around, facing away from him to unhook your bra. It slides down your body, onto the floor. You smile to yourself.

“I bet you're upset, huh?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him.

“Why would I be upset?” He asks.

“Cause you can't see my boobies.” You laugh, turning slightly to show him a little side boob. “I think you'd like them.” You say, looking at him. His eyes are focused down, looking at what you're showing him. “Tsk tsk, naughty boy.” You scold, slipping your shirt on, turning around to face him.

He stares at you, and you stare back. You examine his face, his large veiny arms and hands, his roughly tousled hair.

“Jisoo was right.” You whisper.

“About?” He asks.

“You.” You hiccup. “She said you were hot.”

“And what did you say?” He asks.

“I didn't say. Cause I don't need my words going to your thick ass head.” You giggle.

“If they wouldn't go to my head, what would you say?” He asks.

“That you're really fucking hot. But you're a little violent and hot headed.” You sigh. “Buuut you're not allowed to know that so shhh.. cause Jisung said you're off limits.”

“Since when do you do what your brother tells you?” He laughs.

“I listen to him!” you say. No you didn't. “Actually, never.” You hiccup.

He doesn't reply. He stands there, staring at you. You can feel your breath hitch as he moves closer towards you, the palm of his hand gently laying on your cheek as his face moves closer to yours. You close your eyes, the world is spinning as you feel his lips press against yours. You feel like you're melting into the kiss as your lips move against his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You could have sworn this was a dream, like his lips were perfectly made for your own. He slowly pulls away, turning to look at the door, and that's when you hear it.

“Minho!”

It's your brother's voice. “Lee fucking Know!” He yells.

“Go to sleep.” He says to you, turning and walking out of your room. You lay down in your bed, closing your eyes. The world only spins for a moment before you pass out.

**

“I'm never drinking again.” You gasp as you crawl out of your bed, desperately trying to make your way to the bathroom to get some water. Your throat was the driest it had ever been and you felt like you might actually die. Once you reach the sink, you shove your head underneath, drinking all the cold water you could get into your mouth. Fuck it tastes good. When you're finally satisfied, you drag your feet to change into some comfier clothes before heading downstairs. Luckily you didn't have class until the afternoon today, so you could try to recover this morning. You grab some food from the fridge, eating it cold, ignoring the passed out people scattered around your house.

“Morning.” You hear. You turn to look, seeing Minho walk into the kitchen, heading for the fridge.

“Morning.” You sigh.

“Hungover?” He asks you, grabbing some juice. You whimper as you nod your head. He laughs. You turn to glare at him, when suddenly you remembered. You think you remembered at least.

“Did..” you pause. “We.. um.. actually nevermind.” You say, turning away from him.

“Did we, what?” He asks, grinning.

“Kiss?” You whisper, looking around, making sure Jisung wasn't around.

“Me and you?” He asks, shocked. “Did you have a sex dream about me?” He gasps, placing his hand over his chest.

“What!? No! I just had a flash.. of something.. and we were kissing.” You try to explain.

“I feel so violated.” He fake cries. “I wasn't aware you thought of me like that.”

“Who's thinking of you like what?” You hear. Jisung walks into the kitchen, grabbing your food off the counter.

“Y/N.” Minho says. “I think she's into me.” He laughs.

“Yeah right.” Jisung chuckles. “Neither of you are dumb enough to do that.”

You look at Minho as he looks at you. Neither of you were dumb enough.. right?

#straykidsland #Neverendingdreams-net #lee know #lee minho #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz writing #stray kids writing #kpop fanfic #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut

[beenbaanbuun]

the friend - opposites attract universe

a knock against the door has hongjoong startled, pulling him from the task at hand. his hands that were delicately massaging your scalp soon disappear, instead finding their way to your shoulders to push you gently from his path. you whine in mock complaint as he shuffles you to sit in front of his husband instead, but then seonghwa’s skilled fingers lace themselves in your soft barnet and all is well again. your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back.

“fickle little thing,” hongjoong muses as he straightens his slacks. his fingers brush over the pinstriped material, knocking away the creases from sitting in them, before he begins to move towards the archway that separates the living room from the foyer. “she really will crumble for anyone who shows her attention.”

he mutters that last bit under his breath, sharing an amused chuckle with himself as he wraps his hand around the brass doorknob. the wooden door is heavy and takes more than a little effort to yank open, but with a helpful hand from someone on the other side, it seems much easier. the ringed hand that came to his aid soon drops from the ornate door, swinging back down to the side of its owner. hongjoong can’t help but smile when he sees who it belongs to—his good friend song mingi is at his door.

hongjoong smiles at the man as he takes his sunglasses off and tucks them in the pocket of his black hoodie; it was a style choice hongjoong never really got behind, but mingi insisted that dressing so casually was ‘cool’ and not to mention ‘handy for his line of work.’ hongjoong is still convinced that you can take care of werewolves whilst dressing properly, but after several conversations on the matter, he’s come to the conclusion that mingi is simply just too stubborn to care. it’s fine, hongjoong tells himself; it’s all a part of what makes the giant on his doorstep so loveable.

“no yunho today?” hongjoong asks as he sidesteps just enough to let mingi through the door. “you two are normally inseparable.” there’s a strange expression on mingi’s face as hongjoong moved to push the door closed. it’s sheepish and shy and not at all like mingi, almost as if he’s ashamed of something. the door clicks shut just as the taller man shrugs which in itself is suspicious. the pair are normally attached at the hip; for mingi to not know exactly where the artist is at any given point in time is wrong. hongjoong sucks his teeth like he’s about to start scolding a child. “mingi, what have you done?”

“nothing!” the young man complains, tone defensive and annoyed. “why would you assume it’s me that’s done something and not yunho?”

its said like a child blaming their sibling for something, and hongjoong has to tense all of his face muscles to stop himself from cracking a smile. mingi makes it almost impossible for him not to have a soft spot for the man. so selfless yet so childish, hongjoong finds it easy to adore him. it’s probably why he’s been friends with the unsophisticated rascal for so many years.

“because i know if yunho had done something he would’ve already apologised and fixed the matter at hand,” it’s true, although it is entirely possible that yunho had apologised for something and mingi was just being his usual difficult self about it. hongjoong suspects that if that were the case, though, the man in his foyer would be a whole lot poutier. he thinks its safe to assume that this is a mingi-caused problem, as so many things are. “now tell me what’s wrong or i’ll invite yunho over to tell me himself.”

mingi’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking like a clock as he mulls over his options. on one hand, he doesn’t want to be scolded by hongjoong, on the other, he really doesn’t want to have to face yunho right now. he knows one look at his friend will have him bent double, begging for forgiveness and he’s not quite ready to do that. he wants to hang onto his pride for just a little while longer.

so he sighs and closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the berating he’s about to get from hongjoong. his lungs fill with oxygen and he’s just about to confess his wrongdoings when he hears it; the sound of his saviour.

“hongjoong?” your brashly optimistic voice echos through the room as the soft pitter-patter of your bare feet grows nearer, and for the first time ever, mingi finds himself thanking the devil for your existence. usually he’s pretty impartial to you, loving to tease you more than he loves you. now, though? demons, he could kiss you if he wasn’t absolutely sure that hongjoong would have yeosang pinning him to the floor by his throat within seconds.

screw the fact that mingi once cared for yeosang like he was one of his own; the once feral pup is well and truly loyal to the kim family now…

mingi watches as the lilac of your sweater-covered arms wraps around hongjoong’s waist like a belt. the man relaxes into your hold, the accusatory look on his face melting away as you tuck your face into his neck. “seonghwa was wondering how long you’d be. he misses you.”

hongjoong chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“you mean you miss me?” he purrs, brining a hand up to pet at your messed up hair. mingi’s surprised seonghwa let you slip from his grasp without carefully laying each individual strand of hair back into position. no doubt the man is seething about your escape in the next room over. “seonghwa can live without me for a few moments, dove. you, on the other hand, are forever proving that you can’t.”

“yeah, sure, whatever,” you admit, “i miss you, i guess.”

hongjoong cranes his neck to kiss the side of your head, a toothy grin on his face as he holds his lips to you for a few more seconds than necessary. mingi finds himself rolling his eyes at the unnecessary display of affection, but he’s be lying if he said he didn’t feel something stirring inside of his chest. it’s cute, he admits to himself, but that doesn’t mean he needs to see it. he’s actually more than grateful when hongjoong pulls away from you with a gentle sigh.

“let’s go back to the lounge then, my pretty little dove,” hongjoong murmurs, and mingi feels the weight of the world fall from his back. he’s have to thank you later for tearing hongjoong’s attention from him. “you can wake yeosang from his nap; i’m sure the mutt would be more than happy to see that mingi is here to visit.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #opposites attract universe #matz x reader #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader

[bloodyhoon]

7 minutes in heaven. [pt. 3]

pairing: fuck boy! sim jake x female! reader.

genre: smut & fluff.

warnings: virgin reader, a lot of kisses because jaeyun is clingy, oral, mutual masturbation, protected sex, and other things that I am too lazy to mention. english is not my first language so there may be grammal or spelling errors.

words: 4.9K

part 1.

The sound of the hands of the clock above your head rang repeatedly while your attention was on the shelves in front of you, you were looking for a book to complete your subjects and you couldn't reach it, so on tiptoe, you leaned against the shelves.

"y/n" hearing your name whispered made you awkwardly move away from the shelf, a taller figure behind you reached for the book and set it down for you, your breathing hitched when the presence of that pale boy landed next to you with the book in his hands. "this book?" he asked you.

"Oh yeah, thanks" with a frown you looked at the book in his hands which he didn't seem to be offering you, so you just waited wondering to yourself, why was Park Sunghoon helping you pick up a book? The boy never approached anyone or talked to anyone, although he was very popular he was also very low profile and was not interested in helping or talking to anyone. The boy looked at you for a few seconds, from head to toe with some curiosity, but then he looked at the shelves next to him.

"This is not the section I need" he ran his fingers over the backs of the books arranged alphabetically. "But I saw that you needed help, maybe now you can help me find the anatomy books?" He asked his question this time looking at you, who without realizing it, was still staring at the book he had in his hands, wanting him to give it to you quickly and having no interest in talking to him. You didn't want to associate with sunghoon, he was the last of the popular boys that everyone needed to associate you with and you were already starting to get tired of that. You were used to everyone talking about you, making up rumors about you and it went in one ear and out the other, but lately the rumors were too much, for example: you fucking all the most popular boys in your school, among them sim jaeyun and his group of friends, which even one was heeseung, your best friend's boyfriend. Yena didn't mind, in fact, she knew the truth and Heeseung also ignored it and they both told you not to give it importance, but you couldn't stand it if it already involved other people you loved.

"The anatomy books are at the other end of the library, very far from here" a voice and footsteps came next to you and when you two looked, jaeyun was approaching and giving you a smile. "Hi guys"

"Hey man, what are you doing here?" Sunghoon gave his friend a smile. You knew that Jaeyun and Sunghoon were very close since they were often the ones who were seen together the most and it was something that caught everyone's attention since they both had very different personalities.

"I was just passing by here" of course was a lie, who was "just passing by" the library? But he shrugged his shoulders and when he looked at you, he noticed your gaze on Sunghoon's hands, so subtly took the book from his hands and pretended to skim through it superficially.

"Ah, that's her-" Sunghoon pointed his head at you, you were now looking at Jaeyun with a slightly indescribable look and Jaeyun continued playing with the book in his hands, but without stopping holding your gaze. Sunghoon understood that it was time to leave, since he had already noticed how Jaeyun had not stopped talking about you or looking for you all the time, so he sighed lightly trying to hide the amused smile on his face and after saying goodbye to you, he left to look for what belonged to him.

“Hello Y/n” Jaeyun extended his hand that was holding the book and you reached out to take it, but he raised his arm and left it out of your reach, forcing you to come closer to him. A smile formed on his face when he saw you confused, you tried to take the book again and he pushed it further away. "You know, I discovered that I don't like seeing you with other guys, especially if he's one of my friends. I know his intentions." His voice was deep and conveyed so much tranquility that it didn't seem like he had made such a possessive comment, so you were perplexed. You didn't know how to respond to that confession before. "I want all your attention for me if possible. I'm very jealous" accompanied by those words he put an arm around your waist and pulled you slightly. You rested your hands on his chest and looked at him with trembling pupils, making him laugh and leave a kiss on your cheek. "I love it when you are speechless"

"What are you saying?" You rolled your eyes, completely trying to look disinterested and pushed him with your hands that were on his chest, he stumbled slightly and without wiping the silly smile off his face, he walked away, lowering his arm and allowing you to take your book. "Why are you here?" you asked, holding the book to your chest and searching in the shelves next to you even if you already had what you needed.

"I was looking for you" he put his hands in the front pockets of his pants and watched you search through the shelves. "I wanted to talk to you"

"Talk to me?" You left your place and began to walk slowly through the corridors of the large library heading to your place where you had left your things. Jaeyun began to walk next to you, not wanting to miss even a moment of being able to see your face.

"So Yena and Heeseung are going to your house tonight and you didn't invite me?" his voice was loud because the library was quiet. You stood in your place for a moment, looking ahead while jaeyun analyzed every part of your profile.

"I thought you'd be busy? I mean, you always have someone to hang out with, especially on a Friday night" you gave him a look. If you were honest, you had it in mind to ask him if he would like to accompany you, but you were also embarrassed by the idea of ​​asking him and looking like a fool. Deep down, you were afraid that he would reject you and disillusion you.

"It offends me that you tell me that, I'm not interested in hanging out with anyone anymore, you know?" He put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. "I just want to hang out with you"

You didn't know if he was serious, if he said it lightly like everything he used to say, or if he was just being flirty like every day he talked to a girl. At this point you didn't know how to react to him. Jaeyun had been following you and accompanying you everywhere for the last few days, paying you more attention than you expected and looking for you every chance he had. You didn't know why he acted like that but it didn't bother you, at first it did bother you a little because you were still a little embarrassed with him because of everything that had happened between the two of you, but gradually you got used to his presence and you were already comfortable with seeing him or having him around you. As you also discovered that he wasn't just a flirtatious fuck boy who lusted after all the women around him, in fact, he was someone fun, respectful and kind, very attentive and easy to get along with. You liked spending time with him.

“Okay, then come tonight” you continued walking causing his arm to fall from your shoulders. "Come spend time with us, not just with me" you tried to make your words clear, but with his silly smile on his face he interpreted those words as he wanted.

"Yes, of course I'll go spend time with you" with a smile he followed you to pull your arm, bringing you closer to his body again. He loved having you close to him. "I'm looking forward to spending time with you" he approached you and gave you a kiss on the forehead "see you tonight, sweetie" with those words said, he walked away from you happily and left the library, leaving you alone and confused, a little blushing and eager for the night to come.

That whole scenario had happened that afternoon and you had spent the entire day repeating it in your head over and over again until the moment the boy rang your doorbell and you let him in. If someone had told you just a month ago that you would have Sim Jaeyun on a Friday night in your living room hugging a pillow and lying on the couch playing with his phone, you would never have believed it. At the time in which you had met him in the library and you had told him to come spend time with you, you had been very brave with your attitude and your words, but now you were desperate looking at the screen of your phone waiting for a response from Yena who hadn't sent you a message all afternoon.

Yena: babe, did you really think that we would be there ruining your chance to fuck sim jaeyun? don't be naive and enjoy it a lot <3

A gasp stuck in your throat and your legs shook uncontrollably, you found yourself forced to hold on to the back of the chair next to you to keep from falling. Your gaze went up and landed on the back of the boy's head, who was still in his place on the couch, still looking at his phone and waiting for you, who had gone to the kitchen with the excuse of offering him something to drink. Seeing him so relaxed and comfortable running his hand through his hair without stopping to look at his phone screen, which he was looking at with a somewhat bored expression, you thought about the conversation you had a few days ago with Yena.

"You are winning Sim Jaeyun's heart, no one ever believed that would be possible." You stopped in your place suddenly as you walked through the school hallways and she looked at you. "What's wrong?"

"Winning his heart?" It seemed like an exaggeration to you to hear her say that. Why would you of all people win his heart? You didn't have problems with your self-esteem or your physical appearance, but you knew what the girls Jaeyun used to date were like and they were very different from you. In fact, it even seemed strange to you that Jaeyun had noticed you even if it was for something at the moment.

"Well, yes" she shrugged. "You've seen. He rejects all the girls who try something with him, he always looks for you to talk to you when you two meet somewhere and when you don't, he also looks for you. When I see him with Heeseung he always asks about you. He's blind because you" Yena couldn't hide the smile that formed on her face just remembering Jaeyun's silly look when he heard your name.

"You're delirious, Yena." You let out a laugh and continued on your way. "He must already be stuck in some girl's sheets recovering his fuck boy reputation, there's nothing to worry about." You sounded disinterested, but deep down in your innocent heart after seeing how he treated you when you were together, thinking that he was with another girl disappointed you deeply.

"No, you are very wrong." Yena sounded serious with her words. "He hasn't even talked to any other girl again, he told heeseung himself, he said he can't find any girl that catches his attention and then he only proceeds to talk about you. Don't you dare say he doesn't feel attracted to you, y/n"

You sighed and walked towards the living room again, the boy stood up in his place and without taking his eyes off you, he watched you leave both glasses on the table in front of you and sit on the couch quite far from his body.

"Are you okay? You're a little pale" the boy laughed at the absurd image. When he had arrived, you had received him very cheerfully and you had even been sitting together talking for a long time, but suddenly you began to get nervous and disappeared, only to return in that state. "What happened?"

"It's nothing" you responded quickly, you turned your body to face him and noticed how his eyes traveled all over your face analyzing each of your features. "Yena and Heeseung aren't coming" you shrugged, desperate to show yourself disinterested, but Jaeyun already knew how to read perfectly when you were nervous. He let out a laugh and approached you, practically sticking his body to yours, which was cornered against the backrest and arm of the chair.

"That's good, don't you think?" He moved the hair out of your face and rested his arm on the backrest behind you. "I was dying to be with you alone, don't you want to spend time alone with me?" His hand behind your back played with your hair that fell loose, causing you to shiver from his soft touch. You nodded, you felt that if you spoke your words would fall halfway. "Are you nervous?" A slightly arrogant smile hung on his lips as he continued to corner your body, leaning over you. "Do you want me to get away from you?" When he said those words, his body leaned back a little, but you rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He smiled in agreement and held your hand that was on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I like spending time alone with you" you admitted, in a way you felt a little exposed to reveal that, but you couldn't help it because that was how you really felt with him. The moment you received Yena's message, despite your nerves, deep down in your heart you were immensely happy because you had wanted to receive that message from your friend. "You make me a little nervous, I don't know why" his eyes that continued to wander over your face were accompanied by his hand caressing your cheek.

"I like to make you nervous" his face had a smile, but not that typical seductive smile that you were used to seeing so much, it was a different smile. "I like your innocence disguised as the confidence you have" his body got even closer to yours and his face getting closer to yours. "I like you" were short and simple words, but they had a great weight that you couldn't finish processing. You looked at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to add something more and then joke, but you noticed how sincere he was and that made your stomach twist with nerves or excitement, that feeling made you jump into his arms and kiss him. Jaeyun couldn't help but smile at the kiss and putting his hands on your waist, he leaned over you, laying your body on the couch. "I'm serious, I like you a lot. I thought I only liked knowing things about you that no one else did, I felt like it gave me a certain power to see you vulnerable, but then I discovered that I couldn't stop thinking about you and that damn naive smile accompanied by those innocent eyes." He attached his lips to yours again, this time with more force, making you moan into his mouth. As soon as he laid a finger on you, you became a mess with your heart racing and your skin becoming sensitive to his touch.

His arms wrapped around your waist and your legs around his body, he effortlessly lifted you off the couch and you guided him to your room at the end of the hallway. His lips were still glued to yours while she held you against his body and you clung to her shoulders tightly. He gently placed your body on the bed and crouched between your thighs, his hands on your waist going under your shirt caressing your hot, prickly skin as he looked into your eyes. You put your hands on both sides of his face, holding him gently and your hands traveled through his hair slowly, not being able to believe the beauty of the boy who looked at you as if you were what he was waiting for all this time.

"I really like your eyes and your lips... and your whole face" you told him, your hands gently tugged at his dark hair and he giggled, then leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your thigh. You were wearing shorts so the entire skin of your legs was exposed.

"You're so pretty." His hands caressed your thighs and went up to the waistband of your shorts, feeling the elastic as he waited for your reactions. "Can I take it off?" He asked, you swallowed and felt the nerves run through your body, but you still nodded and leaning on your hands on the mattress, you raised your pelvis off the bed allowing him to slide your shorts down your legs.

"You really are so beautiful, I can't believe I have you like this all to myself" his fingers slipped into the elastic of your underwear and he began to slowly lower it, without stopping looking into your eyes, his gaze telling you to trust him. "I want to kiss and worship every part of you, will you let me?" His hands squeezed your knees, prompting you to open your legs wider for him. At this point your entire body was completely flushed and tense, your breathing slightly labored. You could only nod, lost in his gaze that was so convincing. "Lie back and relax, okay?" Jaeyun approached you and placed a kiss on your lips before gently pushing you by the shoulders and returning to his spot, where he positioned his face between your legs. His lips left short kisses on the inside of your thighs, hands caressing your legs as you squirmed under his touch. “Calm down” Jaeyun left one last kiss on your thigh. "Are you sure you want to continue?" he asked, his voice calm and low, without any pressure as patiently waited for you to accept or refuse. You loved that, that he always asked you before doing something and that his attitude didn't change depending on your answer.

"I'm sure" you leaned on your elbows and saw him between your legs, his eyes were so expressive that you thought your heart would stop. When his gaze made contact with your shiny and wet pussy, his eyes were shining and he licked his lips, you let your body fall to the mattress again trying to hide your shame and you closed your eyes tightly when you felt his eyes on your most sensitive part.

"Will you let me touch you? I want to eat you out." When you heard him, you couldn't help but moan and nod embarrassedly.

"Yes, yes. just do it" you felt his hands press your thighs apart, lifting your legs that rested on the edge of the bed and his face buried in your pussy, feeling completely happy to finally be there. He left a kiss on your pussy and you felt faint, it being the first time you had experienced something like that, without time to say anything, his warm tongue pressed against you and you moaned loudly. Jaeyun reached for one of your hands that was clinging to the sheets beneath you and intertwined his fingers with yours and your other hand went to his hair. You pulled his hair hard as his tongue moved and he couldn't help but be more aggressive with his mouth, wanting to taste and have more of you, also bringing his fingers to your pussy "Jaeyun-" you sounded desperate as he continued to eat you out and touching you fervently. "I think I'm close- ah" you were very sensitive and his touch was too much for you, so it was quick and easy to bring you over the edge. A loud moan escaped your lips as his fingers entered you and his lips closed on your clit. Your head was spinning as you pulled his hair tightly, making him moan against your core. His hand, which held yours tightly, gave small squeezes at times and at other times, his thumb caressed you, giving you peace of mind. Your body shook and moved against his face helping you reach your climax. Your back arched against the bed and you could feel Jaeyun's kisses on your thighs as you fell back against the mattress with your breathing and heart pounding.

"Are you okay, baby?" His fingers drew patterns on your bare legs, completely comfortable with your fluids staining his mouth. You leaned on your elbows again and the image of the boy in that state between your legs overwhelmed you, so with the hand that still held his, you pulled him, making him come closer to your face, your hand holding his face as your thumb ran over his shiny bottom lip, his big bright eyes watching you intently as he leaned on his arms on either side of your body. You caught his lips, feeling the tongue that had previously plunged into you, was now in your mouth rubbing against yours. Your own taste in his mouth made you feel things you had never felt before and made you want even more. "Do you want to continue? Because we can just keep kissing the rest of the night and believe me, I will be the happiest man in the world just by being by your side." He planted a kiss on your lips as his body rose and leaned over yours resting on the mattress.

"Yes, I want to continue" you nodded as you hugged his body to yours. "I trust you for this, I really want this with you." Those words were enough for Jaeyun to grab the hem of your shirt and take it off, leaving your breasts exposed. His arm wrapped around your waist and he spread kisses all over your torso, touching your breasts and nipples with his lips and tongue, your head fell back as you let out a gasp of pleasure. His body separated from yours and he got rid of his clothes, you felt your mouth go dry at the glorious image of his well proportioned body naked in front of yours.

"God, you don't know how much I want to be inside you" he kissed you again needily, feeling like he couldn't take his lips off yours, and his hand went to your crotch, caressing your still sensitive and swollen pussy. "I don't want to hurt you, baby" his fingers caressed the entire length of your pussy, spreading all your wetness that was almost dripping down your legs. Your body writhed beneath his and you whimpered almost desperately.

“Please, jaeyun, I’m ready” your hand went down between your bodies and you wrapped your hand around his hard cock, going up and down slowly. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a quiet moan. "I want to feel you inside me" your barely soft touch made him feel on cloud nine.

"Please don't do that" his voice sounded like a plea. “I feel like I'm going to cum right now” you tightened your hand around his cock, pumping a little harder. You heard him moan almost painfully and his fingers that were still in your pussy slid easily inside you, making you moan into his mouth. “Y/n” your name sounded weak in his voice as you continued to jerk him off a little harder and he pressed on your clit, forming that knot in your stomach again. You both moaned loudly as your bodies erupted in orgasm and you felt his hot fluids run down your thigh. "You're so good, I need to be inside you" he desperately separated himself from your body and approached his pants on the floor, taking a condom from his pocket and after opening the small package, he wrapped it around his cock. His body was back on yours and again, looking into your eyes to read every expression on your face, he came up to kiss your forehead. "Are you ready?" His hands went to your waist and your arms rested on his shoulders and you wrapped them around his neck, bringing him closer to you and you smiled shyly at him.

"I am" you nodded and your voice sounded shaky, you didn't know if it was because of the continuous waves of pleasure that your body was receiving or because of the fear of the unknown experience that you were about to live in those moments with the boy in your arms. You didn't distrust him because you knew that he would be careful with you and would do everything possible to make you feel good. You watch as Jaeyun guides his cock to your entrance and closing your eyes you cling to his body, his other hand caressed your back as he slid the tip inside you, a hiss escapes from between your clenched teeth and jaeyun held you tightly.

"Tell me if it hurts, I'll go slowly" he warns you, you nodded to his words containing a sigh and jaeyun nodded with you, keeping his word and sinking very slowly and deliberately inside you. You tremblingly hang on to his shoulders and he, wrapping his arm around your waist, lifts you from the bed and presses your chest against his, hugging you tightly. “Relax” he murmurs into your hair and kisses your head. You feel it completely inside you and you feel uncomfortable as your walls expand due to the intrusion, a small pain accompanies the sensation but it wasn't as bad as you thought. You hear him let out a weak moan when he is fully inside you and you take a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" You make a small noise of affirmation that is enough for him to stay calm. “You're so tight, god” your walls clench around him and you elicit another moan from him as he rests his head against your shoulder. "Do you want me to stay like this?"

"Move, please"

"Okay, pretty" nodding, he moves his hips back and slides into you again this time without pauses, easy to slide into you as if your body were ideal for his. The uncomfortable feeling slowly begins to leave your body as you feel your walls stretch and clench around him with each gentle thrust. "You're doing so good. You feel so so good, fuck, this is incredible" His words sounded weak and were lost in the air between your moans, you hid your face in his neck while you felt your body shake by his movements, your nails dug into his shoulders when one of his hands went down between you and brushed his fingertips against your clit, making you feel strong pleasure.

“Ah- wait jaeyun, I-” you closed your eyes tightly feeling the words get stuck in your throat. "I'm- I'm close, oh god, please" your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you as your body began to shake and you tightened around him, his lips placing kisses all over your blushing face as you pulled away from his neck.

"That's it baby, keep going" he took a deep breath and increased his pace, taking you to your limit. "Come on, cum for me, you can do it" as he continued moving inside you, you hear him say a couple more nonsense words and how he moans deeply. "I'm cumming" he groaned. A couple of thrusts and you feel his cock tremble inside you, both orgasms hitting at the same time and you desperately clinging to his body, gasping and moaning against each other, both of you feeling your bodies relax. Your head was somewhere else and you felt your completely heavy body fall onto the bed as Jaeyun let go of you and pulled out of you letting out a hiss, walking away and leaving you on the bed with your eyes closed and your breathing heavy. You hear his soft laugh in the background and a soft damp towel is passed over your thigh where he had previously cummed. You open your heavy eyelids slowly and see Jaeyun next to you, his hair messy, his face a little flushed with his red, swollen lips and his eyes bright as well as his big smile. "How do you feel?" he asks in a low, somewhat raspy voice.

"I'm perfectly fine" you stretch your arms forward and he leans back on you lightly, letting you wrap your arms around him, his fingers caressing your hips lovingly. He leaves a kiss on your neck and takes the blanket next to you, covering both bodies. Your hand caresses his back while you feel how he leaves warm kisses on your chest, your neck and your entire face, as if without saying a word he was thanking you.

"I have something to admit to you" he said. You murmured for him to continue. "I told Yena not to come because I wanted to be alone with you. I hope you don't get angry with her or with me" You let out a laugh and shook your head, how could you be mad at him if he just made you have the best night of your life? He smiled when he noticed that you were okay with it and kissed your forehead gently. "Listen Y/n, I don't want this to be just a casual thing" you open your eyes and look into his eyes, his gaze sincere as he said those words. "I want to keep seeing you but I would like us to have something... more, I can't just see you from time to time and pretend that you don't cause me anything. I like you a lot and I don't want to see you with anyone else other than me" he admitted, catching her lower lip between his teeth with some nervousness and you gave him a tired smile as you nodded at him, while you felt those typical butterflies flap their wings in your belly, something you had never felt before with anyone.

"I like you too, Jaeyun" you felt that saying that was enough. He let go of his lip that he was biting nervously, he approached your face and kissed your lips tenderly. You closed your eyes again and felt the heaviness and exhaustion hit your body.

"Don't faint, baby, you still have a lot to experience" he let out a laugh and buried his face in your neck, your stomach turned with nerves and your heart was pounding in your chest, matching the accelerated and excited heartbeat of the boy who couldn't stop smiling happily.

god, you can't imagine how many times i wrote this. i'm sorry, i'm just a capricorn who is very hard on myself. well, i guess this is the end of this story that was only supposed to be a single part. thanks for asking for more and reading🫶🏻

tags: @secretlyapartofthisfandom @icepshrince @laurradoesloveu @sunpov @simhinata @irenereiii @primroselover @jakehooni @kodaunknown @cinnamon-won @hoonieluv @jindoriyam @riyuukii @csesamis @lycxee @kumiyoe @kashuannn @jaeyunpinkyring

there are some people that idk why but I couldn't tag 💔, I mentioned them anyway.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jake scenarios #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #jake imagines #jake enhypen #sim jaeyun #enhypen smut #jake smut #jaeyun fluff #jaeyun smut #enhypen fluff

[writingonleaves]

don't wanna scrape you off the pavement (i can't be your savior) - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character (reckless driving au)

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, hopeful ending (bc its me), possibly inaccurate dynamics of the 2020 - 2024 umich hockey squads but i tried, some biphobia (not from any main characters), an awful lot of talking about michigan for someone who’s never been there (the college or the state)

inspired by + title: "reckless driving" by lizzy mcalpine and ben kessler

word count: 23.7k

author's note: after about 7 months in the making, it’s Finally here lol. this piece means a lot to me, and not only because it took so long. a labor of love, if you will. i'm very proud of it, so i sincerely hope you all enjoy it as much as i loved writing it! please do let me know your thoughts <3 takes place the summer of 2024

~*~*~

day one - amelie

Amelie Fishel has a love-hate relationship with the state of Michigan. 

She loves it enough that she stayed in the state she was born and raised in for college. But even she knew she would’ve been an idiot if she denied the offer four years ago when University of Michigan offered her an academic scholarship that ended up covering her full tuition. She enjoyed her time at college enough, making a smattering of friends that she really does want to keep in contact with for the rest of her life and developing a solid foundation academically with various experiences that will hopefully help her out to get her dream job, which is on the horizon.

It’s a dream job because it falls in line with what she enjoys doing. But it’s also a dream job because it’s taking her the fuck out of this state. That’s the only request she’s had when trying to close in on an NHL photographer offer — it can be in any state except for Michigan. 

But despite her feeling that she’s outgrown this state, she’s sticking around for one more summer. One more summer of no internships or responsibilities before she has to be a working adult for the rest of her life. A few more months to enjoy the few perks this state does have before getting to leave.

Currently, she’s sitting in the backyard of her grandparents’ new lakehouse. It’s admittedly beautiful and in a wonderful location that offers the tranquility that they’ve been searching for. The lake in their backyard glistens under the sun and the sunsets are stunning. 

It’s a hot day in mid-July and she spent her first full day catching up with her grandparents in the backyard. After she had graduated, she splurged on a trip to Europe with some friends that definitely made a dent in her bank account. When she voiced getting a job for the summer, her parents and grandparents immediately said no. Enjoy the summer, they said. 

After dinner, when the sun’s rays are barely peeking out, she volunteers to walk Susie, her grandparents’ golden retriever that is far too energetic for Amelie’s liking. Amelie grabs the leash, beckons Susie over, and they’re on their way to a walk around the neighborhood. 

She forgoes her Airpods for whatever reason and shoves both her hands in her sweatshirt, walking leisurely behind Susie. She’s so lost in her own head that she almost misses the sound of her own name. 

“Amelie?”

She blinks, stopping at the end of someone’s driveway. Susie trots happily to the guy who’s holding his hand out to pet her. “Luke?”

“Yeah,” Luke clears his throat and bends down slightly to pet Susie, who is loving the attention. “Hey buddy. What’s your name?”

“This is Susie.”

Luke chuckles as Susie’s tail wags crazily. “Hey girly. What a cutie.”

Amelie gently tugs the leash. “Easy, Suz. We don’t wanna kill him.”

She watches for a few seconds as Luke keeps petting her. Yankees hat atop his head and wearing a white t-shirt and swim trunks, it’s been over a year since Amelie’s seen Luke Hughes. The last time she saw him was after the devastating loss against Quinnipiac at the Frozen Four. He had jetted out to Boston that night, but not without giving Amelie an unexpected but genuine hug goodbye. 

As a photographer for the Michigan Athletic Department during her entire college career, she became at friendly with many athletes, especially the guys on the men’s hockey team, since her boss put her on assignment with them a good amount. But she hadn’t expected Luke to remember her or recognize her.

“You live around here?” Luke asks, standing back up as Susie calms down.

“My grandparents just bought a place a few houses down and I just got here. You live here?”

“Kinda,” he gestures to the house behind him. “My brothers bought this place a few years back.”

“Small world,” she remarks. 

He nods with a small smile. “It sure is.” 

“Who’s your friend, Moose?”

She turns her head to the open garage to see a shorter, tanner version of Luke. This guy is wearing a black t-shirt with sweatpants, his hair less curlier than Luke’s. He must be one of his brothers, and even if Luke didn’t just tell her it was his brothers’ place, she would’ve put it together. They both have the same half-smile. 

He’s also beautiful. Almost annoyingly so.

(If her sisters were here, they’d immediately point out that Jack is exactly her type. Well, Charlotte would point out that he smiles similarly to Cooper and Colette would immediately scold Charlotte.)

The guy walks over and Susie gets excited at a new presence. He also bends down to pet her. “This is Amelie,” Luke says. “She photographed a lot of the games back at Michigan.” He turns back to Amelie. “Did you just graduate? Or do you have one year left?”

“I just graduated.”

“Congratulations,” the guy stands up and sticks out his hand. “I’m Jack. Luke’s brother. Well, one of them.”

She shakes his hand with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. And thank you.”

“You said you’re gonna be here for the summer?” Luke asks. 

“Most of it, yeah.”

“Where do you live?” Jack asks.

“My grandparents are a few houses down. 118.”

Jack perks up. “Stanley and Ruth are your grandparents?”

“Yeah,” she narrows her eyes. “How do you know them?”

“They ran into our parents golfing last week. And I’ve waved at them a few times driving down the street.”

“That sounds about right,” she chuckles. “They love their golf and they love sitting on the front porch.”

Luke straightens up, and with Amelie’s previous interactions with him, that means that he’s about to suggest either a great or horrendous idea. “You should come over for dinner this week. You and your grandparents. Our parents are still here for a few days and we’re going a bit stir-crazy with each other, I think.”

So it’s a horrendous idea this time. She immediately tries to deny the offer politely. “Oh no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t wanna intrude your-”

“We’d love to have you. And your grandparents,” Jack says with an air of finality. “And I know our parents would say the same. They’re sick of also just having us around.”

“I still have your number from when you used to send me pictures after games,” Luke says. “I’ll text you details and we’ll find a time that works?”

“Okay,” she says after a few seconds. As if Susie understands, she barks. 

Jack gives her one last pet with a grin. “This floofer’s welcome as well.”

After one last smile, she and Susie are on their way as the brothers head back into the house. Once they’re out of earshot, she sighs. 

She has no idea how she feels about this. 

day three - jack 

Jack Hughes is convinced he’s going insane.

Well, that’s not exactly true. He’s perfectly fine, great, even. Recovery is going well. He’s back with his family in one of his favorite places in the world. Even in July, the season still seems so far away. Some days he itches to get back to The Rock in front of the fans. But most of the time, he’s enjoying his off-season rehab and training, being on the water and being on the golf course. 

But Amelie – which first of all, an incredibly beautiful name — and her just as beautiful dog Susie have been at the back of his mind for two days straight now. That’s weird. Jack doesn’t usually think about girls like this, especially girls he’s barely met.

All he’s gotten from Luke so far is that she’s a year older than him, which makes her a year younger than Jack, she photographed a bunch of the Michigan games during Luke’s two years there and she’s a bit quieter than some of the social media team’s counterparts Luke knows she worked with. 

And she’s so, so cute. But Luke didn’t tell him that one. 

A few hours before she’s supposed to come over with her grandparents, Jack’s lounging on the boat, as Quinn, who’s in the driver's seat, and Luke are talking about…something. But he’s deeply focused on his phone, trying to do what every Gen Z person does when they see someone cute. Find their Instagram. The fact that he’s held off for over 48 hours is already impressive. 

He finds it relatively easily, as some of Luke’s former teammates who Jack follows follow her, and Amelie isn’t a common name. She’s private, but linked in her bio is her photography account, which is public. While there’s no pictures of her on there, it proves to him that she’s an insanely good photographer. Not just hockey, either. There are some beautiful shots of divers, gymnasts, soccer players, etc. You name the sport, it seems like Amelie’s photographed it. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Quinn asks. 

Jack quickly locks his phone. “Nothing.”

Luke, like the pest he is, narrows his eyes. “Sure.”

“Don’t make me push you into the water, Moose.”

An empty threat, Jack knows, but he starts leaning forward and Luke yelps. “Quinn!”

Quinn rolls his eyes, “You’re both annoying. We gotta head back though. I wanna shower before dinner.”

Dinner. Right. Amelie. Coming into him and Quinn’s home. Great. 

Something must change on his face, because a shit-eating grin grows on Luke’s face. “Oh. That’s what this is about.”

“What?” Jack feigns cluelessness. 

“Amelie’s pretty, isn’t she?” Luke says. Jack just shoves him and Quinn chuckles, catching up. 

“If you think she’s pretty, why didn’t you make your move first?” Jack retorts back. “You had two years.”

Luke shrugs. “Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean I’m interested. She’s cool though. Way too cool for you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Luke rolls his eyes, “For once, no.”

“Was she friends with the guys?” Quinn asks. And Jack’s silently grateful that he doesn’t have to be the one to dig for more information.

“I don’t know if I would say friends, but definitely very friendly with everyone,” Luke says. “I think she was a TA in one of Rut and Adam’s classes or something. She seemed to get along with them the best. And I feel like she had a soft spot for Eddy, for some reason. I think it’s that thing where we just all are around each other all the time and the more we saw of her at the rink, the more we got to know her.”

Huh. Interesting. He doesn’t know anything about Rutger McGroarty except that he went to the program a few years after Jack did and was drafted to the Jets. Ethan Edwards is one of Luke’s closest friends from Michigan and could be signing with the Devils organization this upcoming season, and Jack likes him. Adam Fantilli trains with the guys in the summer so Jack’s gotten to know him decently well. That one might say the most. 

Luke gives him a pointed look. “I’m serious. Don’t mess with her. She’s too nice for that. And she can put you in your place.”

And Jack’s downright offended that Luke would even insinuate something like that. But as Quinn guides them home, he thinks. Luke’s never given an opinion on any girl Jack’s dated or had a thing with. He’s spoken maybe three sentences to Amelie, didn’t even directly express his interest and Luke is already all up in his ass. 

He hears when Amelie arrives hours later, Susie barking and the sounds of Stanley and Ruth talking with his parents. He tries to be nonchalant as they all come out into the backyard, when he sees her conversing with Luke, instead making himself busy by introducing himself to Stanley and Ruth. 

But her pink linen pants match her headband and her smile is dripping with gold and Jack is going insane. 

They have dinner outside surrounded by the sound of the rippling lake, the view of a cotton-candy sunset, the feel of light breeze and the warmth of easy laughter. Jack sneaks a few small pieces of chicken to Susie and Amelie catches him, glaring at him from across the table. Jack just smirks as she rolls her eyes, chomping away at her corn and tuning into whatever conversation is going on. 

His parents ask about her background and her time at Michigan and he can’t help but smile when she talks about her double degree — communications and design — and how going to an activities fair turned into working as a photographer for the athletics department. She talks about her first time photographing a hockey game and how hockey is the fastest and in a way, hardest sport she’s ever photographed. But it’s become her favorite. That puts a smile on the faces of the entire Hughes family. 

She gets asked what her plans are post-grad, and she just breezes through it casually, saying that she’s been talking to US Soccer and the NHL but nothing finalized yet. She says it so casually that Jack’s almost in awe. 

Jack never believed in love at first sight, and still doesn’t, thank you very much, but the sound of Amelie’s laughter has him feeling so nervous and stupid and ridiculous. 

Whatever. He’ll unpack this later.

day six - amelie

Amelie’s cameras and her camera equipment are her babies, which, duh, considering her passion and career. Which means she’s very excited to take out the vintage 35 MM film camera she got for a graduation gift from her parents. 

After lunch, she takes one of the many outdoor chairs her grandparents have, plopping herself decently close to the lake to fiddle with some of the settings. She has her trusted DSLR camera next to her as well, the sounds of the birds and a Michigan summer her soundtrack. One of her neighbors must be playing the guitar outside and Amelie finds herself at peace. 

The peace is slowly shattered as she hears a motor coming from the lake. She rolls her eyes to herself. Fucking boats and boatowners who think they’re the shit. 

She does point her camera towards the boat though. It’s a cool shot. 

She doesn’t realize it’s slowing down until it practically stops. She squints and sees someone waving their hand maniacally. She tentatively walks a bit towards the lake. 

“Luke?” 

He nods enthusiastically and Amelie kinda finds it endearing. She quickly takes note of Quinn at the helm and sees Jack’s head popping up from behind Quinn. The boat slows to a stop and she comes to the edge of the lake. 

“Morning. Or afternoon, I guess.”

“Hey,” Jack says with a friendly smile. “What are you up to?”

She holds her camera. “Testing this out. I actually just got a pretty cool shot of the boat.”

“Is that a special kind of camera?” Quinn asks. 

She nods. “Mmhmm. It’s a vintage 35 millimeter film camera, which is the exact opposite of what you want when photographing any sport. What are you guys up to today?”

Luke shrugs. “The usual. Probably gonna be on the boat for a few hours.” He lights up. “Do you wanna come on?”

She opens her mouth to say something but Jack pushes on before she can get a word out. “Yeah, come on!”

“If you don’t already have plans, that is,” Quinn adds. 

She closes her mouth and thinks. She doesn’t have plans today and hasn’t ever been on a boat. Plus, even though she partially chose to spend time out here to reflect on herself and be by herself, she knows it’s good for her to be talking with people that aren’t her grandparents. And, they’ve been nothing but nice to her so far. 

“On a few conditions.”

Jack tilts his head. “Which are?”

“I don’t have to get in the water and I get to bring my cameras.”

“Deal,” Jack says quickly. 

Amelie gives a close-lipped smile. “Give me two minutes.” She sets her cameras down carefully by the chair side and jogs back into the house. She grabs her favorite Michigan crewneck in case it gets cold and grabs her tote bag which has sunscreen, sunglasses, her keys and wallet. When she comes back out, the boat is docked as close to the edge as possible. Without hesitation, Amelie takes off her flip-flops, wades into the water and hands Luke her bag and cameras carefully before Jack pulls her up into the boat. 

She wobbles a bit and Jack’s hands hover behind her back in case she falls. “You ever been on a boat?”

“Not in awhile,” she says, settling down in a seat next to Luke. “I prefer having my feet on the ground.”

Luke’s eyebrows furrow. “You can swim, right?”

“What?” Amelie jokes quietly. “Are you planning on pushing me in?”

“No one is getting pushed in,” Quinn assures, sending a light glare at his two brothers as he starts steering them deeper into the lake. “Especially with those expensive cameras on board.”

“Are you really the one responsible for every photo of Luke playing hockey taken at Michigan?” Jack asks. 

She blinks, absolutely taken aback. “Not every photo, I’d say.”

“Definitely a good amount though,” Luke says. “I feel like you were always at every game.”

She shrugs, “Well, my boss started putting me on hockey more because I’m pretty sure I was the only one who could do it well.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hey, it’s a tough sport to photograph. It’s fast and unpredictable and you have to have a sense of where the puck is going before it gets there.”

Amelie internally cringes at that last part. She sounds like a coach. 

“Did you like hockey before?” Quinn asks.

“Not really, to be honest. The first game I ever watched was at Michigan when I was shadowing.”

“You must’ve figured out pretty quickly where the puck will go, then, if you didn’t know much about hockey before,” Jack says with something like respect in his eyes.

Amelie smiles. “I guess.”

Quinn nods to the film camera that Amelie had picked up the second she got on the boat. “Can we see the picture you took of the boat?”

“I wish. I’m gonna get the film developed at the end of the summer and that’ll take a few weeks.” Quinn hums in understanding. She takes out her regular camera and pops off the lens cap, shoving it in her back. Luke’s eyes light up in recognition and she can’t help but chuckle. “You recognize this one?”

“How could I not?”

She points it at three of them. “Smile. All of you.” She snaps a couple before putting down her camera and playfully glaring at them. “Geez. At least act like you guys like each other.” She looks quickly at the photo with a satisfied nod, before turning her camera towards the brothers so they can see. 

They continue chatting, talking about various things from Michigan (the state and the school) to one of their cousins who just got engaged to where Amelie’s parents are (they also live in Michigan, though further south, but are currently visiting family in France that Amelie had seen last year when she studied abroad in France) to the upcoming season. Amelie mostly keeps quiet on that front, because she doesn’t need to let them know that she got a call yesterday with news that the NHL is closing in on a job offer that will determine where she spends the next few years.

The thought that she could be seeing these three multiple times throughout the season when she’s currently on their boat right now is just downright weird. She just met Quinn and Jack six days ago. She hasn’t seen Luke in two years. 

This whole thing is just weird. 

But whenever she feels too much in her own head, she just picks up her camera and points it at one of them or out at the lake, fiddling with lighting and focus settings. Sometimes she forgets that photography isn’t just going to be her career and that she can love it differently with no pressure and in a different light, no pun intended. 

With time, she gets more comfortable, sunglasses perched on her nose, chin tucked on her knees and laughter flowing out lighter and easier. It’s easier to pick up her camera when they start taking turns wakesurfing, her eyes widening when Jack jokingly tries to drag her out, and she’s either semi-impressed at their ability to make it look easy or laughing her ass off when they flail and fall. 

As she’s shutting off her camera — contrary to popular belief, she does need to put it away after a certain amount of time — Jack plops down next to her. Quinn and Luke are entranced in their own conversation towards the front. 

Jack runs a hand through his damp hair, “Do you mind handing me my shirt next to you?”

She hands it over with a weary look. “It’s boiling out.”

“Oh, so you want me to keep my shirt off.”

The smirk on his face has Amelie rolling her eyes. Boys. “You’re gonna wanna take it off again in like, 5 minutes. I just think you’re being dumb.”

Jack puts a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Ouch. That might be the harshest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I met you six days ago.”

“And my point still stands.” She scrunches her nose a bit when Jack shakes out his hair and some water droplets land on her. He just smiles that half-smile that she’s not sure if she likes or hates. “Are you sure you don’t wanna get in the water?”

“I’m not wearing a bathing suit. And even then, I’m not a huge fan of being in the water.”

“Well, then, what are you a huge fan of? Besides being behind the camera.”

She tilts her head so that it’s leaning against her seat, turning to face him completely. “I used to dance competitively and continued dancing a bit in college. I read a lot. At school, I used to love just camping out at a cafe for hours for the vibes.” She shrugs. “Nothing much else though.”

He nods, before looking at the cameras in her bag. “Why photography?”

She smiles, like she always does when talking about photography. “Taking photos is really cool, I think, because you’re the middle man. You frame the story. And if you frame it well, people will look at the photo and know exactly what’s going on. With sports, it’s all about the timing and the moment. You can write an article describing a game with quotes from the players or whatever, and no disrespect to that. I have a good amount of friends who are journalists. But photo is different, because you can see it, you know?”

Jack nods. “I think I get what you mean. You got a boyfriend waiting for you somewhere? Or a significant other?”

Her eyes widen and a sharp laugh erupts out of her. That’s random. “What?”

Jack just shrugs like he didn’t just completely throw her off. “It’s a valid question, no? Don’t wanna assume or give off an unwanted vibe if we’re gonna be hanging out all summer.”

“Well, uh, no. No boyfriend or partner of any sort like that.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know why that surprises you.”

“Because you’re pretty. Nice. Talented, clearly. Surely the guys and gals and pals at Michigan aren’t stupid enough to turn you down.”

She bypasses all the compliments because that’s too much to think about right now, instead focusing on the latter half of his sentence. She wraps her arms around her legs to clasp her fingers together. “I dated a girl for a bit freshman year. Nothing happened. It just fizzled out. We’re still decent friends. And then I dated this guy for about a year. But that fell to shit pretty extraordinarily.”

“Most of them do, don’t they?”

Amelie unintentionally chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what about you? How’s your love life looking?”

Jack looks out into the distance, breaking eye contact for the first time this whole conversation. “Was in a relationship around two years ago. It didn’t work out because of distance. Nothing much since then.”

Amelie highly doubts that, but she keeps her mouth shut, leaving it alone. “Fair enough.

“So why Michigan? Anything in particular draw you in?”

“Well, I think Michigan is on anyone’s radar who grew up in this state,” she twists her ring around. “And then, uh, when I got offered a full ride, I knew I would’ve been an idiot to turn that down.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “A full ride? You serious?”

“Yeah. Academic scholarship.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Jesus. You’re smart smart. Even I know full academic scholarships aren’t given out easily.” Amelie ducks her chin down. She can feel herself blushing and she hates it. “Was it your first choice? Going to Michigan?”

“No,” she admits softly. And she knows she’s talking to someone who may not have gone there, but who might as well have. He might love the college more than she does and she’s the one who actually is an alum. “NYU was my top choice. And I got accepted, but I couldn’t afford it.”

He nods, and then Quinn asks Jack to take over so he can go on the water and the moment passes. She does move closer to the front partially so she’s under the sun again, mostly so she can be closer to everyone. Luke tosses her a bottle of water and she chugs a good half of it, shooting him a thankful smile.

Amelie’s missed this, to be honest. Despite deeply cherishing her alone time, she’s always enjoyed being around a small group of people, observing them and their dynamics to evaluate what kind of people they are. It reminds her of when she used to tag along with her two older sisters and their friends. 

And these three are easy-going. They don’t allow Amelie to get in her head because they’re always talking about something and asking for her two cents. In Amelie’s 22 years of life, she’s become quick to notice if people are being nice to be nice or being nice to be kind. 

The Hughes brothers are being nice to be kind. And Amelie hates herself a bit for thinking it would be the other. 

She sits back and relishes in their company.

day seven - jack

Jack’s had a great day. 

Practice this morning went well, he beat Quinn at ping pong (though that’s not hard to do) and the three brothers have confirmed who’s coming to the lakehouse in a few days after they’re back from their mini trip to visit their grandma for her 90th. There’s gonna be quite a few of the guys and Jack’s pumped. He always likes combining different groups of friends. 

After dinner, he’s feeling a bit restless, so he decides to go out on a drive. Maybe he’ll grab some ice cream, though if he comes back with ice cream and none for Luke or Quinn, they’re gonna bitch about it. He puts on his summer playlist, which is filled with country, and rolls down the windows before backing out. 

He’s probably driving too fast for what’s acceptable in a residential neighborhood, so it’s at the last moment does he stop when he recognizes Amelie in front of her grandparents’ place walking Susie. He slows down, and she looks behind her as he rolls up. 

He leans his head out of his window just as he hears her say, “Hey Char, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Yeah. Bye. Love you.” She takes her phone away from her ear and shoots him a small smile. “Hey Jack.”

“Hi. Was that one of your sisters?”

“Yeah, that was Char. Or Charlotte I guess. The middle one.”

Susie paws up to the window and he scratches her head. “Hey cutie. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“She’s been off the rails the whole day, so she actually hasn’t been.” Amelie says dryly, making him snort. 

“You up to anything right now?”

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

He nods to his car, “Get in.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

“Gimme a second to let Susie back in. Pull into the driveway.” Jack obeys, idling the engine and unlocking the doors as he waits for Amelie to come back. 

While he’s waiting, he thinks back to yesterday, being on the boat for hours with Amelie, learning more about her. Jack’s been told that he can be pretty excitable and eager, which is probably how he has acquired so many friends throughout his life. But, despite what a lot of people may think, he isn’t that stupid. He’s been around Amelie the last week enough to know that she’s a tougher nut to crack. And he knows there’s more to her than what she’s shown so far. 

So he’ll take every chance, every moment, to get to know her better. Because September will come around sooner than he thinks. It always does.

She comes back out and climbs into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt as he backs out of the driveway. She’s thrown on a Michigan Hockey sweatshirt over herself, settling her small bag on her lap. “You’re not gonna kidnap me and bury me in the woods, are you?” She asks. 

Jack turns down his music with a chuckle. “No. I don’t have the brainpower for that. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.” 

He nods, starting to navigate them towards his favorite ice cream place around here. “Where’d you get the sweatshirt?”

She looks down at herself, as if she didn’t realize what she threw on. “Oh. I don’t remember, to be honest. Either it was given to me or one of the guys let me borrow it and I never gave it back.”

“Luke mentioned you were a TA in some of the guys’ classes?”

She leans back in the seat, leaning her head on the seatbelt so that she’s facing him. “Yeah. I was a TA my junior year for one of Adam, Rutger and Gavin’s classes. Senior year Luca and Nick, who I think came in after Luke left so you might not know him, took the class.”

“Were they good students?”

Amelie snorts. “Good enough. Though one time Rut tried to bribe me into extending an assignment since they had a big game away that weekend — I think it was Ohio State. I also had to go on that trip and I had to grade all of their stuff plus deal with my own classes, so I told him, in polite words, to fuck off and submit his fucking paper on time.”

Jack laughs. He can picture it in his head, Rutger with his good looks and childish smile turning on the charm to 100 to a skeptical Amelie, bored but amused eyes as she watches him plead his side. Maybe she’s wearing a headband. Maybe she’s not. 

(She’s wearing one right now. A tiny white one that you’d miss if you weren’t looking) 

“Those boys…were they good?”

“You’re the hockey player. Shouldn’t you know?”

“No. I mean, like, were they good to you? Nice to you? Because if they were dickheads…”

“No!” Amelie is quick to assure him. “They were great. Honestly. During my entire four years working with the team, I never really had a problem with any of the guys. And I can’t say that about every team I had to photograph.”

“Oh?” Jack sneaks a look over to her as she’s looking at her hands. 

“Yeah.”

Jack wants to dig, but he doesn’t. He just doesn’t like the idea that people could be outwardly rude to Amelie when she’s just doing her job. He doesn’t like the idea that people could be outwardly rude to Amelie at all. 

They climb out of the car and he locks it with a click as they walk side by side to the counter to order. He smiles to himself as he lags behind a few steps, watching her bounce on her toes to try and see the flavor options. 

His attention is brought back into the moment as he feels Amelie tug the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Is the Chocolate Delight good?”

“That’s Quinn’s favorite. It’s super chocolatey.”

“Perfect.” They both step up to the window. Jack orders himself a small Strawberry Cheesecake in a cup. Amelie orders a small Chocolate Delight in a cup and before the girl at the window can even finish listing out the total price, Jack practically shoves his credit card into her hand. 

Amelie gives him a scathing look. “Jack. Come on. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“Precisely.” Her glare stays on her face. “It’s not a big deal. My treat for kidnapping you on our boat yesterday and kidnapping you tonight.”

“So you are kidnapping me,” she says, referring to her earlier comment. She relaxes and Jack calls it a win as they’re given their ice creams. They snag a high-top table that’s a bit away from the other crowded tables. He watches as she digs in, a small satisfied smile on her face, turning sideways to look at the sunset.

He’s not the photographer, but he wishes he could take a picture of her right now. 

They eat their ice cream in relatively comfortable silence, and he feels satisfied when he plays with her foot under the table and it causes her to chuckle. She does kick him back hard enough to make him flinch though.

20 minutes later, they’re sitting in the back of Jack’s car at a lake lookout catching the last streaks of the sunset when he pipes up. “Colette. Charlotte. Amelie. Very French.”

“Well, that’s what happens when your mother is French.”

“What do they do?”

“Col’s doing some cool stuff with fashion merchandising in New York. Just got engaged and getting married sometime next year. Char’s at Stanford getting her PhD in…something that involves physics and is over my head.” 

Jack chuckles. “I feel that. My sister’s doing her residency at NYU and no matter how hard I want to understand, when she gets on her tangents, I can never follow.”

Amelie’s eyebrows furrow. “Sister?”

“Oh, well, not actually. It’s Clementine. One of us must’ve mentioned her yesterday,” Jack says. “She’s not my sister by blood, but our parents have been best friends since forever and we all grew up together, so she might as well be. Went to UCLA and then, also Stanford, actually. So for eight years, I didn’t really get to see her that often.” Jack digs out his phone and flickers through his photos before clicking on the one his mom took of him, Quinn, Luke and Clementine in New Hampshire earlier in the summer.

“She’s pretty,” Amelie remarks softly. 

Jack smiles. “I don’t think I’d be the same if I didn’t have her growing up. We actually live together in Jersey now. Me, her and Luke. It’s a fun time, even if she pretends it’s not.”

“She’s doing her residency, you said?”

“Yeah,” he takes his phone back. “This I do know. Combined residency with pediatrics and the ER. Just finished her first year out of five.”

Amelie whistles. “Good for her. So she’ll be in New York and Jersey for the near future?”

“Yup,” Jack’s smile seems to always be permanent on his face when talking about Clementine. “Though now she’s dating Hisch so that’s a whole thing.”

“She’s dating your captain?” Amelie chuckles, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I sure hope you like him.”

“I love Nico,” he defends himself. “I was rooting for them to get together. They were tiptoeing around each other all of last season. But now that they’re actually dating I just like being a bitch about it to give them a hard time.”

Amelie shoves her hands in her sweatshirt. “That’s what siblings do.”

“I can’t imagine you being a bitch to your sisters’ significant others they’ve brought home.”

She shrugs, “I don’t think I am. I’ve been told I can be a bit closed-off when you first meet me though.”

“Hey. Nothing wrong with taking time to feel people out.” 

“Some people don’t have the patience for that, though.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. A lot of people just assume people who aren’t outwardly charismatic aren’t worth their time.”

Jack blinks, thinking about her words over and over again like a broken record. “Well, then they’re missing out.”

She looks at him and he’s momentarily distracted by the way her white headband creates a sort of halo around her. She lets out a small smile. Jack wants to frame it and put it on the wall of his room back in Jersey. She chuckles, and Jack feels defensive all of a sudden.

“What?” He asks, trying not to sound indignant. 

“Nothing, it’s just…I don’t know. That’s such an interesting thing coming from someone who I imagine is exactly just that.”

“Just what?” He’s not doing a great job today at keeping track of where a conversation goes. 

She huffs. “Outwardly charismatic. You’re telling me you’re not?”

Jack’s hands suddenly start to sweat. “I mean, I guess. But that doesn’t come easy to everyone. I still don’t think it comes easy to me. I’ve just been forced to be okay at it because of what I do.”

She starts swatting at bugs so they hop out of the trunk and start driving back. She doesn’t miss a beat in their conversation. “That’s another reason why I love photography. No one expects anything out of me or pays attention to me.”

Jack can’t help but laugh, thinking back to his rookie year and all the damn expectations that were placed on him that he didn’t surpass. It’s water under the bridge now, but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t think about it once in awhile, especially when the draft bust comments come back after a stretch of bad games. 

“I don’t know what that’s like, having no one expect anything out of me,” he admits, carefully pulling out on the main road. 

“Do you like that? Having a chip on your shoulder?”

“Yeah, in a way. Definitely lights a fire under your ass and motivates you. But, I don’t know, it can get to be a lot, I guess. But I’m used to it. People have been expecting things out of me since I was 16. Younger, even.”

Amelie hums, adjusting her headband. “Must be a lonely place to be at times.”

“Where?”

“The top.” 

Jack mulls over her words in his brain. Once. Twice. A third time. He clears his throat. “I’ve never thought about it like that.” 

When he’s about to sleep that night, he replays their conversations in his head until he finally drifts off. 

day twelve - amelie

Amelie’s a bit glad to have had a few days away from Jack — from any of the Hughes brothers — as they went on a mini trip to Canton to celebrate their grandmother’s birthday. She’s been filling her time by taking walks with Susie, tagging along to help Ruth with groceries and humoring Stanley when he wants to go sit at his favorite diner for hours to talk. Retirement’s pretty nice, Amelie thinks, but even she’s starting to get a bit restless. 

So when she gets a text from Jack after finishing her morning coffee — she forgets when they exchanged numbers or if they ever even did. Luke could’ve given it to him — she’s actually excited.

Weird. When’s the last time Amelie has felt excited to get a text?

Jack Hughes

amelie my amelie 

we just got back last night

and a bunch of your boys are here for a few days 

you should come by and say hi

Amelie furrows her eyebrows as she responds. 

Amelie Fishel 

my boys?

Jack Hughes

beniers, briss, blankenburg, fants, brindley and eddy 

i might be leaving someone out but you get it 

Amelie blinks. She hasn’t heard some of those names in years. And they’re just all over the house right now? 

Hockey players are weird. Their friendships and circles and how they overlap are even weirder. 

Amelie Fishel 

that’s a lotta boys 

Jack Hughes 

yeah and that’s not even all of them 

luke mentioned that you’re nearby and they’re kinda harping on me to get you to come over 

i also just wanna see you 

“You should go,” Amelie jumps out of her seat. Luckily, Ruth isn’t directly behind her. She doesn’t particularly want to be nursing her grandma’s injuries. 

“Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations, Grandma.”

“You should go,” Ruth repeats. “Those boys were sweet and polite over dinner. And you know their friends?”

“Yeah. Photographed quite a few of them at college throughout the years.”

“Then you should go.”

“Aren’t we about to go to lunch with some of your friends?”

Ruth tuts. “They’d perfectly understand you ditching us old gossips to hang out with your friends.”

“I’m going to lunch with you. I haven’t seen them in awhile either and I like your friends,” Amelie says firmly. One look from Ruth and Amelie relents. “I’ll go see the guys after dinner. If they even want me.”

Amelie Fishel 

won’t be around until after dinner

dunno if that changes your invite

Jack Hughes 

see you after dinner 🫡

i’ll try to hold off your fan club in the meantime 

(As Amelie goes upstairs to change, Ruth chuckles to herself. She remembers the middle Hughes brother unable to keep his eyes off Amelie at dinner that night.)

After dinner comes, and she shuffles through her dressers before reminding herself that it doesn’t matter what she wears. She throws on her favorite pair of jean shorts and tosses on a Stanford sweatshirt she stole from Charlotte ages ago. She grabs her tote bag, kisses her grandparents goodbye and pats Susie on the head before walking out the door. 

As she approaches the Hughes home, she rolls her eyes at all the cars parked in their driveway and lining down the street. Exactly how many people are here? 

She hears voices coming from the back and decides to forgo the front door and paddles over through their side yard into the back. Amelie pauses at the sight, taking in what must be at least ten people by the firepit. She tries to be discreet, figuring out where or who she should head to first. But a voice calling out loudly stops her. 

“Mimi!” Before she knows it, Adam Fantilli crashes into her body. She grunts into his chest as he lifts her up. 

“Call me that one more time and you won’t have a season to get back to in Columbus.”

Gavin chuckles from behind Adam, before reaching out for his much tamer hug. Good. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

She huffs, but her heart does feel lighter. “I saw you, like, three months ago, Brinds. No one changes that much in three months.” She lets the two boys each swing an arm around her shoulders and gets smushed in the middle, both simultaneously talking her ear off. She’s not really catching what they say, and she thinks they don’t actually care, but it’s nice to be around them again. Really nice. Familiar. 

She’s led to the fire, and feels her smile grow as Nick Blankenburg, Brendan Brisson and Matty Beniers all bounce over and give her enthusiastic hugs and greetings. God, it’s been so long since she’s seen them. Even though she was younger and more naive when photographing them her freshman year, they were on her first roster. And there’s always something special about the first one.

“The fact that you decided to stick around the boys for four years says a lot,” Nick says with a smile. “Did you like them as much as the guys during your first year though?”

“You never forget your first!” Matty chimes in and Brendan throws his head back in laughter. Amelie’s sick of them already, rolling her eyes as she greets Luke with a tight side hug. 

She beams at Ethan, whose smile is just as big. “Hi Eddy.”

“Hey Ami,” She lets out a laugh as the smiley Canadian smothers her in a hug. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon. I’ve missed you.”

“Me neither,” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away. “Missed you too.”

“Well, we obviously know who the favorite is.” Someone pipes in and her eyes track toward the voice. This guy definitely didn’t go to Michigan, but has one of the most contagious smiles she’s ever seen. “I’m Trevor. Friend of Jack’s. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ah, yes. She remembers Jack mentioning him a few times. “Nice to meet you, Trevor.” She turns to the last person she doesn’t know. Dark brown, curly hair and pouty lips. “You must be Alex.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Amelie kinda likes that he doesn’t hide his surprise. “Yeah. Jack talk about me too?”

“Yeah. Mostly Ellen though. Said that you’re the favorite.” Alex grins as Trevor howls in laughter. 

“He is,” Jack grumbles from behind her. “Even to this day, It’s quite annoying.” Jack shoots her a quick smile and Amelie smiles back before thanking Quinn quietly as he passes her a cider. 

She looks around to see that all of the guys have beer in their hands. She had mentioned off the cuff on the boat that she hates beer. She’s touched that they remembered. She takes a seat in one of the adirondack chairs, Jack on one side and Adam on her other. 

“I saw Luke’s story. How was golfing?”

“Good,” Quinn says. 

“You a golfer, Mimi?”

Again, Amelie glares at the young Blue Jacket. “I think I’d rather do anything else.”

Brendan chuckles. “I recognize that glare. I’ve almost missed it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Amelie says, sipping her drink and wrapping her arms around herself. Jack tosses the large blanket over both their legs and she nudges his foot with hers as a thank you. 

The boys are loud and talk over each other and Amelie can’t remember the last time she’s rolled her eyes this much. She takes the bag of chips that Ethan passes her and finishes it off, much to Luke’s dismay. And of course, true to herself, she takes out her camera to snap a few photos. As the sky darkens and fire blazes, Amelie feels warm, chiming in occasionally when she sees fit but mostly listening. 

Amelie’s attention is pulled back to the present with Ethan asking her a question. “You mentioned at the end of the season that you were looking at jobs with some different sports leagues.” She doesn’t remember telling him that, but if there’s anyone she would tell, it would be him. “Did any of that, you know, go anywhere?”

Amelie smiles. “I’m in the final stages of, uh, figuring out something with the NHL.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “No US Soccer anymore?”

Amelie shrugs. “Maybe in the future. But no, not right now. Least not full-time.”

“Wait,” Ethan pushes with wide, excited eyes. “Ami. Are you gonna be-”

“I don’t wanna jinx it,” Amelie says with her hand up, but a smile peeks through. “It’s not a sure thing yet. They’re trying to figure out with what team or area of the country. Or that’s what they told me.”

Cheers erupt and she kinda wants to hide her face behind her hands. Popcorn is thrown at her and she swats it away. She turns to look at Jack, who smiles and picks a kernel out of her hair. 

It’s a beautiful smile. She wishes she saw it more often, instead of the half smirk half smile he always does. 

“Any chance you’d be in Jersey?” Luke asks as Ethan grins and Jack nudges her elbow.

“Columbus also works!” Adam calls out, high-fiving Nick and Gavin.

“California sunshine is nice,” Trevor sings out. 

“Just the west coast in general,” Quinn adds as Brendan, Alex and Matty all nod emphatically. 

“Your pitches all need some work,” Amelie snorts, before shrugging. “Honestly, I’ll be fine anywhere. Just not Michigan. I need to get out of here.” Everyone laughs, but she catches Jack’s inquisitive look. She quickly lets herself get dragged into a conversation with Quinn, Nick and Adam instead. 

She eyes the pool table through the window of the sunroom and Jack catches her, challenging her to a game. She, along with Jack, Adam and Ethan decide to go in for a quick game. They split up into teams, her and Jack on one, Adam and Ethan on the other.

She eyes the chalkboard and grimaces at Jack’s less-than-desirable record. “Do I really want you on my team?”

Jack follows her eyeline and rolls his eyes. “Ignore that.”

“Kinda hard to,” she squints. “Damn, I should’ve dragged Quinn in here.” Jack pouts as Ethan snickers, her waving at Adam to break. 

What Amelie failed to voice when she saw the pool table is that she is pretty damn good at pool. During the few times she went out in college, it’s how she and her friends liked to get free drinks. She would challenge a few of her overconfident guy friends or acquaintances and bet a free drink or two. Though actually, she remembers she played against Adam at least once and absolutely destroyed him. She’s surprised and amused that he doesn’t remember, if his wide eyed indignation at her sinking a seemingly-impossible shot says anything, much to Jack’s amusement. 

“Holy shit,” Jack says, impressed. “Who taught you to play? Can you give me their number?”

Amelie shrugs with a small smirk, watching Adam take his turn. “There was a diner I grew up nearby that had a table. I honestly can’t remember who taught me. I just played against my sisters a lot.”

“We should’ve placed a bet on this. You two didn’t know about this secret talent?” Jack says, directing the question to the former Wolverines. 

“Yeah, Adam,” she eggs on, laughing as his shot misses. “You should remember. I got you and Truscott to buy me a drink out of it once.” Adam curses in realization as Ethan cackles. 

“Wait, I remember that,” Ethan says. “I was even shocked that you were out and about, considering all the times you turned our invites down. Imagine me hearing that not only are you out, you also just single handedly took down the two best pool players on the team.” 

“Turning down invites to parties, huh?” Jack chuckles.  

Amelie rolls her eyes, watching Jack take his shot. “No. They were all just up in my business when I was trying to be professional.”

Ethan scoffs. “Professional? Yeah, okay.”

“Professional,” Amelie repeats. “I was working for you guys, technically.”

“Ew, no you weren’t,” Adam says, crinkling his nose. “Don’t say that. God. You were just as much part of the team as we were.”

“I don’t know about that,” she watches Jack mess up his shot and just rolls her eyes. “All I did was take pictures of you all.”

“Part of the team,” Ethan emphasizes, also messing up his shot. God, Amelie thinks. These boys are bad at pool. “Stop pretending we weren’t your favorites to photograph.”

“Yeah, admit it!” Adam chimes in. “You were easier on me when grading papers too.”

“I was absolutely not,” she says. “The fact that you treated pre-game as office hours made me grade you harder.” They just wave her off and Amelie huffs. 

“Look where being professional got you,” Ethan smirks. “Some fun friendships, eh?” She smacks his shoulder. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Amelie warns, before sinking in the 8-ball with a smirk. Adam and Ethan groan as Jack cheers, placing an overzealous kiss on her cheek before going to the chalkboard. “You’re welcome for the win.”

When the fire starts to die out and more people start yawning an hour later, Amelie decides to call it a night. She gives everybody a hug, promising more than once that she’ll see everyone at least one more time before they leave in five days. Jack offers to walk her home and she doesn’t even bother fighting. 

They start walking. Amelie flips her hood up and Jack shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “You lied to me.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Said the guys were just nice to you. They love you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“And you love them.”

Amelie stares down at her shoes with a shrug. “Like I said, they’re good guys.” She looks back up and tugs at his sweatshirt sleeve. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Of course.” Jack says. “You’re always welcome.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

“I never say things I don’t mean,” he says lightly. “Waste of time and energy.”

Amelie swallows, Jack’s woody cologne filtering through her nose and all of a sudden, it feels like he’s too close, but she can’t pull herself away. “Thank you though. Seriously. You’re right. I-I’ve missed them.” 

She lets him pull her into a side hug and doesn’t say anything when he keeps his arm swung around her shoulder. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

Amelie chuckles. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, turns out some of the guys want a rematch because they’re mad I beat their asses so we’re golfing again tomorrow, but we’re starting early.”

“I’m not going golfing. Even the best bribe couldn’t bring me out there.”

“I’m not asking you to come golfing,” Jack laughs. “It’s just, contrary to what you may believe, I’m kinda annoying in the morning and need caffeine and fuel to deal with that many people, especially before going on the course.”

“Jack, what are you-”

“Do you wanna grab breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us? Those fuckers never get up in time.”

“So you’re gonna let them starve?”

“They can figure themselves out.”

They stop at her front door and she turns around. Him being on the step below causes them to be at the same height. “Sure.”

The left side of his lips quirk up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Though subjecting me to your pre-caffeine self seems like you’re trying to sabotage me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Does 9 work?”

Despite herself, Amelie grins. “See you then.” She reaches behind her to twist the doorknob. “Thanks for walking me home. Goodnight Jack.”

“Goodnight.” 

She watches through the window until he walks out of sight. She then looks at the lone light still on in the kitchen and has an idea. 

day thirteen - jack

Jack’s not an idiot, despite what his brothers and teammates may tell you. He knows this isn’t a date. 

But it sure feels like one. 

Jack’s looking at the suitcase he probably should’ve fully unpacked by now, figuring out what to wear. It’s literally just breakfast with a girl he met not even two weeks ago, so he shouldn’t really care what he’s wearing. 

Breakfast. With a girl he met less than two weeks ago. A girl whose company he really, really enjoys. 

He shakes his head at himself, pulling out a black t-shirt and khaki shorts. He decides to clasp on a watch before he can overthink himself out of it. 

At 8:57, he quietly paddles downstairs and grabs the keys off the hook before jumping into his car. He barely pulls into her driveway before her front door opens. A smile spreads across his face at Amelie, her floral pink dress flying behind her as she rushes out, quickly checking she has what she needs in her tote bag before opening the car door. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Hey,” she breathes out. She scans him up and down really quickly. It makes him swallow. “You look nice.”

He backs out of the driveway. “You do too.” When he gets to look at her again, he notices the matching hair scarf hanging from her ponytail. “I like the thing in your hair. You look like a fairy.”

“A fairy?”

“Yeah.”

She blinks. “Oh. That’s…really nice, I think? Thank you.”

“Definitely a compliment.” He bites his lip to stop his smile from growing too wide. She hums along to the song on the radio and looks out the window. He rolls it down for her and watches her lean her elbows at the edge, her head peeking out. 

Jack has to drag his eyes back to focus on the road. The sight of Amelie sitting shotgun while he’s driving brings a feeling in his stomach he’s never felt before. At least not to this depth. 

She turns to him. “Where are we going?”

“Sunny Side Up right off Beecher Ave.”

She chuckles. “That’s Grandpa’s favorite place. We might catch him come in as we leave.”

He freezes a bit as he slows the car down with a stop at the light, at the thought of Stanley coming in to see him with his beloved granddaughter, both semi-dressed up on a Wednesday morning, just the two of them. 

When they arrive, he holds open the door for her, and breathes in the smells of coffee and eggs and everything good coming out of the kitchen of Sunny Side Up. The place is emptier than he expected, but he also knows the typical brunch crowd rolls in a bit later. The hostess tells them to sit wherever they like and he follows Amelie to a spot by the window. They barely slip into their seats before he hears a familiar scratchy yet comforting voice. 

“Amelie!” The woman then turns her head and doesn’t even hide her surprise as her grin grows. “And Jack Hughes. What a nice surprise.”

“Hey Sherry,” Jack nods with a grin.

He sees Amelie’s eyes light up, even if it’s subdued. “Hi Sherry.”

The older woman that Jack has seen here every summer since he moved here sets two menus down. She offers Jack a pointed look that looks awfully like his mother’s. “I haven’t seen you here this summer as often as past summers. You cheating on us with some other cafe?”

“I’m a loyal guy, Sherry,” he charms. “I would never.”

Sherry narrows her eyes, “Mmhmm. I’ll get you two some coffee while you decide what you want.”

Amelie nods and flashes a warm smile. “Thank you.” They watch Sherry scurry away. The sound of Amelie’s gentle laugh pulls his attention back to her. “You come here often, huh? Well, clearly not often enough this summer.”

“Hey, you can’t even say that,” Jack whines. “Clearly you come here often too.”

She shrugs, “Like I said, it’s Grandpa’s favorite place. I come here with him at least once a week.”

“Do you have any friends around the area?” Amelie’s eyebrows shoot up and Jack immediately backtracks. “Not that-I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

Amelie snorts, leaning back in her seat. “Chill Jack. I know what you meant. The ones who are in Michigan aren’t close by and the rest are spread out across the country. I came to my grandparents’ knowing that I wouldn’t see a lot of my friends. Kinda purposeful on my end, in a way. But then Luke saw me walk Susie and now here we are.”

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t enjoyed our company.”

“It’s definitely made my summer more eventful.” Their coffees come and neither of them look at the menu before ordering. Jack orders the french toast with strawberries and blueberries and she gets the house omelet. Jack ignores the pointed look that Sherry gives both of them, because he’s right with her and kinda has no idea what to make of this but is trying to enjoy it while he can. 

He feels her nudge his feet under the table. He snaps his focus back to her as she nods to the cup of creamers next to him. “Pass me two?”

He nods, obliging. “Sugar?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Jack watches her stir the creamer in before a sudden thought pops up. “Yesterday, when you said that you don’t care where you went as long as it wasn’t Michigan, what did you mean by that?”

Amelie, to her credit, doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden question. “Exactly what I said. It’s nothing against the Red Wings. I just need to get out of here.”

“Why?” 

She stares at him for a few seconds, and Jack gets nervous. Before he can take back the question, she answers. “When you haven’t really gotten the chance to travel or live anywhere your whole life and a job offers you to go anywhere, you take the chance.”

Jack nods slowly. He’s gotten to travel to a lot of places through hockey, but he still considers Michigan his home and often feels an urge to come back during the season — as much as he thoroughly enjoys living and playing in New Jersey. It’s hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that someone could want out of Michigan. 

She smiles and chuckles a bit suddenly. Jack raises an eyebrow in question. She just shakes her head. He thinks she’s adorable. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just thought of something.”

“Do share with the class.”

“I’ve been so excited at the prospect of leaving Michigan, but it’s so clear you and your brothers love it and I don’t know. It’s nice to be reminded of the good parts of this state.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess throughout the season I don’t really get to be around Quinn or my friends and family that often, so when all of us have the off-season, we all naturally gravitate towards home, which nowadays, is here.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself about why you like this state, Jack,” she says with a small chuckle. “I get it. My family’s technically all here too, so I can’t escape it completely.”

Their food arrives soon after and they spend a few silent minutes just digging in. He cuts a piece of his french toast for her and she in turn cuts him a portion of her omelet. He’s hoping that she’s not catching the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off of her. 

When they finish, Jack shoves his card into Sherry’s hand when she grabs the check, they’re walking out of the diner, full and content. The sun is beating down but not too hard that Jack feels gross. Hopefully it stays that way when he and the boys go out golfing in an hour. 

“Do you have a second to come inside?”

Jack’s eyebrows immediately shoot up his forehead, killing the engine. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just come inside,” Amelie rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Reassuring,” he deadpans, following her through the front door and immediately bending down to pet Susie and prevent her from running out. He watches Amelie disappear into the kitchen for a moment before she comes back out with a tupperware container filled with…cookies?

“For you,” Amelie hands him the tupperware. “And the other guys.”

“What are these?”

“I kinda got a burst of energy after I came home last night and wanted to do something with my hands. You’re gonna tell me you guys are gonna turn down fresh cookies?”

“No,” he says, looking back at her. “Thank you.” 

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Jack opens his mouth and then closes it. He wants to ask why she made the cookies. Why she’s giving a large container of them to him and their friends. If it means anything.

Instead, he backs towards the door. “See you around?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Have fun golfing with the boys. I don’t want to hear a single thing about it.”

He laughs. “I won’t subject you to that. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it. And thanks for breakfast.”

“Of course.”

“Stop paying for me though.”

“Never.”

She playfully shoves him out the door with an eye roll. He thinks he could see that eye roll for the rest of his life and feel content.

day fifteen - amelie

As she’s pouring herself a second cup of coffee, she hears someone knocking on the front door. Ruth’s out walking Susie and Stanley’s out golfing with friends the day, so Amelie trudges over to the front door. 

It’s Quinn, in a Canucks sweatshirt and basketball shorts, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Amelie smiles easily, albeit confused. “Hey Quinn.”

“Morning.”

“What’s up?”

He shifts on his feet. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” she opens the door wider for him to come in. “I was just editing some photos. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Anything in it?

“A bit of milk if you have some.”

She hums, preparing his coffee and carefully sliding it over to him as he rests his forearms on the island. “Where are the rest of the guys?”

He shrugs. “Either asleep or just hanging out. We had a tough practice this morning.”

“And you decided to come here?” She teases. She doesn’t want him to think he’s not welcome, because she actually really likes Quinn, despite spending the least amount of time with him compared to his brothers. 

“Kinda wanted some peace and quiet, to be honest, which is hard to find in the house when there’s so many people,” he admits, before nodding to her open laptop. “You said you were editing photos? What for?”

“Partially to update my portfolio. Partially to brush up on my skills.” She moves the laptop so he can see it. Pulled up is a picture she took last year at a Michigan swim meet. “See how it’s a little too bright here?” She clicks on the dodge tool in the open Photoshop tab and quickly edits. “There.”

“Do you do this with every photo?”

“Sometimes I switch between different softwares, but it’s generally the same process. The big differences that I have to be aware of are lighting and composition when editing.”

Quinn nods. “This is sick. Like, super cool.”

She quickly saves her work before turning her full attention back to Quinn, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Do you have any photos you’ve taken of us the last few weeks?”

With that, Amelie scoots herself closer to him and slowly scrolls through a bunch of photos, starting from that day onto the boat and then to the fire the other night and other miscellaneous ones inbetween. Quinn lingers on a picture that’s one of her favorites, one that makes her smile everytime she sees it. It’s of Jack the night of the fire. The light from the fire is illuminating the front of his face while the dawn of the Michigan sky behind him casts him in a subtle light. 

He’s looking away from the camera — at Gavin, if she remembers correctly — in the middle of laughing. His hair is all tousled over his forehead, some loose strands going over his eyes. His blue eyes are bright and if she showed this photo to anyone who didn’t know Jack Hughes, she’s sure they would be able to hear his laughter anyways.

He looks radiant. Everything like the bright and intense first-overall draft pick he was projected to be. As she watches Quinn’s eyes flicker over the photo, she thinks there’s something incredibly intimate about the way the camera captures the middle Hughes brother. 

(“The subject of the camera makes up less than one percent of the photograph,” Professor Yang, one of her most trusted mentors said to her once. “The majority of the beauty of a photograph comes from the photographer themself and how they see the subject.“

It’s always at the most inconvenient times does Professor Yang’s voice ping through her head.)

She watches Quinn click through other photos, some edited, most of them raw. He makes small comments here and there asking about the mechanics of photography and how she knows when and what to shoot her lens at. She tries to explain in a way that would make sense to someone who knows little to nothing about photography and Quinn, to his credit, is keeping up the best he can. She goes to pour Quinn another round of coffee as Ruth comes back in through the side door, Susie trotting over to Quinn happily, who pets her. Ruth merely smiles as she’s sliding off her shoes at the sight of the eldest Hughes brother. 

“Good morning, Quinn.”

Quinn grins. “Good morning. Sorry for interrupting.”

Ruth waves him off, coming to kiss the top of Amelie’s head. “Not at all. I see Amelie here has offered you some coffee. Would you like some chocolate chip cookies? Also courtesy of Amelie.”

“Not on the meal plan, I’m sure,” Amelie comments dryly. 

Quinn laughs loudly. “No, but it is the summer.” He reaches into the container in Ruth’s hands. “Thank you. I actually had some of the ones you gave Jack last night. They’re really good.”

Amelie ignores the look she knows her grandmother is giving her. “Thanks. I could teach you how to make them, if you’d like. My, uh, an old friend of mine taught me a trick his mom taught him that make it extra gooey.”

She, again, ignores the look her grandmother is giving her. Quinn doesn’t need to know that old friend is her ex-boyfriend. 

(Humans are interesting in the way that they’re mosaics, made up of the pieces — people, in this case — they’ve encountered in their lives. Amelie hates what Cooper did to her, but she will never forget the methods he taught her about making the perfect chocolate chip cookie)

Quinn grins. “I’d love to know, actually. I’ve been wanting to figure out how to bake simple things to, like, bring to events and stuff. I should, right? Being captain and all.”

Amelie snorts as she starts getting ingredients. “If you say so.”

Quinn and Ruth start chatting inbetween Amelie telling Quinn what to do. She can tell her grandmother is absolutely charmed by Quinn’s politeness and overall presence. And to be honest, she is as well.  

It makes sense that he’s captain, in the way he speaks, listens and guides. Amelie thinks if she were on a sports team, she’d ride into battle with, for and alongside him. 

Quinn spills a bit of flour on the counter and Amelie just snorts, waving away his apologies and telling him to crack the eggs. She just eyes him to make sure he isn’t fucking that up while listening to Ruth talk about something Charlotte told her on a call the other day. 

“You know,” Ruth starts and Amelie immediately doesn’t like where her tone is going. “My granddaughters are pretty great people, present company included. Colette’s engaged, but Charlotte’s single.”

Amelie bursts out in laughter as Quinn starts blinking, no doubt trying to think quickly about how to respond to that. “Grandma, at least try to be subtle about it.”

“Why? I’m too old for that.”

“With all love, I don’t think Quinn is Char’s type. Char only dates assholes, remember?”

Quinn laughs in surprise as Ruth taps her chin with a small smile. “I suppose that’s true. The boy she brought back last summer wasn’t too bad.”

“He told me photography wasn’t a real career and that I was wasting my time,” Amelie deadpans as the oven beeps. She nods at Quinn to put in the trays. “I get that he’s in academia like Char, but what a shitty take.”

“Maybe introducing Quinn to her will break her streak,” Ruth suggests. 

Amelie rolls her eyes to humor her. “How do you even know if Quinn is single?”

Ruth eyes him. “Are you?”

Quinn clears his throat, “I am. Newly single though.” 

Amelie didn’t know that, and it’s not her place to pry. She grimaces as she pulls him into a side hug. “That settles it, then. I’m keeping Quinn to myself.” Luckily, that gets him to smile.  

Just as the oven beeps and Ruth moves to start preparing lasagna, (“Sit down, Quinn. You’re not going anywhere.” Ruth had said with a firm voice as Quinn was trying to leave, not wanting to intrude for lunch), the doorbell rings. Amelie blinks. She has a feeling she knows who’s on the other side of the door. 

It’s a slightly smaller group than the night by the fire. Jack, Luke, Adam, Ethan, Alex and the sweet smile of a guy who wasn’t here last time. But Jack has shown her enough pictures and he’s talked about Cole Caufield enough that Amelie is 99% sure it’s him. 

“Hey Mimi!” 

“Don’t call me that,” she automatically responds to Adam. “You all here for lunch?”

“Ruth invited us,” Luke pipes up. Well, that explains why she was taking out such a large portion of lasagna sheets. “Susie saw Jack getting the mail and kinda mauled him. 

“Of course she did,” Amelie steps aside as one by one, they greet her with a quick hug. She hugs Cole for a bit longer. “Cole, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Cole beams. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She chuckles softly as they follow everyone else. She tries to ignore Jack behind them, knowing he’s listening in. “Anything Eddy says about me is 100% true. The others you can take with a grain of salt.”

“Even when Jack tells me he thinks you’re one of the prettiest and talented people he’s ever met?” 

Amelie’s eyebrows jump up as she looks at Jack, who doesn’t even look ashamed. He even shoots her a quick wink and she’s for sure blushing. She turns back to Cole with a shy grin. “I don’t know about that.”

They walk towards the kitchen, where Ruth is shooing everyone out with the plate of cookies Amelie and Quinn just made. Amelie leads them all outside, squinting against the sun as she quickly grabs a few chairs so everyone has a place to sit. She leans her head on her chin as she focuses on what seems a continuation of a previous conversation about relationships, or lack thereof. She rolls her eyes. Typical. She’s honestly surprised this didn’t come up at the fire the other night in the Hughes backyard. 

She munches on a cookie and merely smiles as Jack finds his way to the seat next to hers. He nudges her knee with hers and she bumps him back.

“Hey,” he says softly so that only she can hear him. 

“Hi.”

“I like your bow. You look pretty.”

Amelie reaches up to touch the black sheer bow clipped atop her ponytail. “Thank you. Sorry Suz attacked you earlier.”

Jack shrugs, the sunshine painting his cheeks an endearing rosy pink. “Gonna get lunch out of it, aren’t I?”

“You flash your smile at Grandma and I’m pretty sure she’d bake you a cake everyday.”

He only smirks before they both tune back into the conversation. Though from where Jack is sitting, Amelie has a perfect peripheral view of him. He has a Yankees cap on backwards, his curls peeking out at the ends. His summer tan is obvious against the white t-shirt he’s wearing with light-washed jeans. 

It’s not the first time that Amelie has noticed how attractive he is. It’s the first time that she has to swallow and force herself to focus on Adam’s voice because she wants to…kiss him. Shit, she really wants to kiss Jack Hughes. 

Horrible.

“What do you think, Amelie?” Her head whips at the sound of Luke’s voice. 

“What are we talking about?”

Luke smirks and Amelie wants to slap him. “Past relationships, to sum it up. Mostly Adam’s.” And Quinn’s, Amelie fills in in her head, because it’s true, even if it’s unspoken. 

“What about them?” 

The air suddenly feels a bit heavy, the most solemn it’s been since Luke saw her at the end of his driveway two weeks ago. 

“Do you think it’s a thing to lose feelings for someone? Like is it real?”

Some sort of noise erupts out of her mouth before she can stop it. If the guys weren’t intrigued before, they are now, as they fall silent, waiting for her next words. She chooses her next words carefully. 

“I think it’s more of an excuse that people use when they don’t want to justify or dig into the real reason why they’re feeling the way they are.” Someone whistles. She thinks it’s Alex, but she’s not 100% sure. Amelie winces. “Sorry, did I just attack someone?”

“Just my ex,” Adam says. 

“Oh good. No one here then.” Amelie offers him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry though. I know how much that sucks to hear.”

“It does.”

“I had to learn that it’s rarely your fault that they supposedly lost feelings. It took me awhile to figure that out, but I did.” She turns to Adam and tries to give him a reassuring smile. “It sucks. Agonizing over everything you could’ve done better and asking yourself why you weren’t enough for them to stick around. At least that’s how it was for me.”

“That’s…kinda exactly how it felt,” Adam admits. “Feels, even now, sometimes.”

Amelie shrugs. “There’s no set timeline for the process of moving on. And it ebbs and flows too. Also no fault in that.”

“You seem awfully knowledgeable about breakups,” Luke states. Amelie catches Ethan’s subtle but pointed glance. How much does she want to tell them about that part of her life? 

“A story for another time,” she says with a dry smile. Cooper Volt and his douchebag ways are not a conversation she wants to have before noon. Or really ever. “But I’m serious, Adam. And whoever else needs to hear it. Feelings can shift and feel and look different overtime, but losing them completely? I don’t know. It’s heartbreaking to hear from someone who used to be such a big part of your life.”

“Commitment is scary,” Cole pipes up. “And it’s hard. Especially, I feel like, with what we do.”

It’s like getting a bucket of ice cold water dumped on her when she suddenly remembers who exactly she’s surrounded by. 

“Do you even want commitment?” Amelie blinks. “Sorry, that’s harsh. That’s not fair of me to ask.”

“It’s a fair question though, I think.” Jack says. Amelie suddenly feels her hands clam up. “I mean, for me at least, I think it’s changed throughout the years. You know, at the start, like five years ago, when it was still chaotic and still an adjustment period, a relationship probably wasn’t on my mind.”

“But now?” Cole presses. 

Jack shrugs. “I think so. But you can’t force it, you know?”

“A relationship would do you well, Jacky.” Luke says, taking a sip of his water. “Don’t know who’d want to deal with you though.” Jack throws his half-filled water bottle at him and Luke squeaks as everyone laughs. Jack nudges Amelie’s knee with a light smile and she has absolutely no idea what to make of that. 

“I didn’t know you were dating someone, Adam,” Amelie comments.

Adam shrugs. “It was for most of last season. Met her through a mutual friend of a mutual friend. I thought it was going well. Clearly it didn’t work out.” 

“But you tried your best?”

“Of course I did. Well, what I thought was best at the time.”

“Then that’s all you can do,” Amelie curls up in her chair. “Sometimes our best isn’t enough. It sucks to hear, but it’s true. And that’s not on you.” She avidly avoids Jack’s eyes that she can feel boring into the side of her head. She should probably stop talking before she reveals more than she wants to. 

Luckily, the conversation steers elsewhere with courtesy to Jack. “Well, what do you look for in someone, Amelie?”

Amelie snorts. “You trying to matchmake for me, Hughes?”

“Maybe.”

Everyone laughs and she puts her chin on her hands in thought. “I mean, tough question.”

“One thing. That shouldn’t be hard.”

“It’s not. Just give me a minute to think. I wasn’t prepared to be talking about our love lives today.” Amelie bites her lip, staring out at the lake in thought. But in reality, it’s an easy answer. “I think, honestly, the biggest thing for me is someone who’s just, kind. Kind to the point where they care about the people around them and how they treat others and the world and….I don’t know. It sounds dumb.”

“It’s not,” Jack says. “Being kind and considerate is underrated, I think. It’s hard to find people like that.”

“Or maybe you’re not looking in the right place,” Alex adds.

“That too.”

Amelie summons some courage. “Well, I’ll flip the question back to you then. And anyone else who wants to answer. What’s one thing you look for in a partner?”

It’s like Jack makes sure she doesn’t break eye contact before answering. “Honestly? Someone I can have fun with and feel completely comfortable around. Which I know isn’t a real trait, but I think if I feel like I don’t have to pretend at all with somebody then they’re worth keeping in my life.”

“That’s quite sweet, Rowdy,” Quinn comments, Jack just shrugs, her eyes still on hers. 

Okay, yeah. Amelie needs space. Or water. Or three shots of vodka. 

The universe listens to her, because Ruth is suddenly calling them all in. Amelie bolts out of her seat and rushes in to help set up utensils. Thankfully, no one outwardly calls her out on it as they all trickle in after her. The conversation shifts to easier topics, and she relishes in being more of an observer than a contributor. 

Along with the delicious lasagna, Ruth somehow found time to make some brownies which Amelie is almost sure is not allowed in any of their diet plans. Nonetheless, she watches them devour the gooey treats and shower Ruth in praise. She herself has one before standing up to put dishes away. She and her grandmother stop any of them, either with their eyes or words, from getting up and they all reluctantly sink in their seats and continue their conversations. Ruth asked them about going to Michigan a few minutes ago and they’re still on that, with Cole and Alex talking up Wisconsin even though no one asked. 

Amelie’s putting the last dish in the dishwasher when someone’s voice in the kitchen causes her to yelp in surprise. She whips around to see Jack’s wince. “Jesus, Jack. Warn a girl next time.”

“Sorry,” he comes around the counter. ���I just wanted to see if you needed any help, but it seems like you got it covered.”

“Grandma let you get away?”

“I might have told her I was gonna use the bathroom,” he admits. 

Amelie snorts, shutting the dishwasher. “Why lie?”

“I wanted to see you without everyone’s eyes on us.”

When someone just says that, so honestly, almost rushed out as if he wasn’t thinking of saying it in the first place but it just slipped out, how is she supposed to react, really?

She resorts to what she knows best. Apathy. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are. Quinn told me you taught him how to make those cookies.”

“I did,” a smile peeks out at that. “He did pretty well. And we made a lot, so please take them with you when you guys leave.”

“Kicking us out so soon?”

“No,” she sighs. “But as much as she’s gonna pretend not to, Grandma doesn’t have as much energy anymore, so I will at some point in the near future gently kick all of you out so she can rest.”

“No worries,” Jack says. “We have plans to head out on the boat anyways. You wanna join?”

She actually does want to, but she already had her own plans to have a day for herself, and those days are important. “I think I’m good. I’ll leave you boys to it. But thank you for the offer.”

“Anytime.” They’re practically touching now, but Amelie doesn’t mind. She doesn’t ever feel like Jack is encroaching on her space. “Earlier, outside, when we were talking about relationships…”

“What about them?”

If he catches her clipped tone, he doesn’t take note. Instead, he tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “You mentioned wanting someone that’s kind.”

“I did.”

“A bit of a low bar, no?”

She scoffs, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. She crosses her arms and looks him straight in the eye. “Well, maybe I’ve just dated some shitty people.”

He holds the eye contact steady. She’s not sure why it surprises her. “Maybe you have.”

Despite herself, she’s amused. “You’re awfully nosy sometimes, you know that?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it.”

“Does it usually work for you? Being nosy?”

“I call it just being interested.”

She swallows, deciding if she wants to push. She takes note of the voices in the other room. If she wants to push, she needs to do it fast. 

Amelie’s 99% sure this is where her and Jack are the most alike. They’re stubborn and can never back down from a challenge. 

She steps even closer to him where she thinks she catches a whiff of his deodorant. Jack’s eyes are still trained on her, passive, but with something in them that she can’t quite read. “I did, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“Date someone shitty.”

“I’m sorry about that.” He sounds sincere about it. 

“Not your fault.”

“Not yours either.”

She chuckles, “Debatable.”

“Nah,” a smile curls at his lips and she thinks it’s beautiful. “Don’t think you’ve done anything wrong in your life.”

“Does the charm usually work for you?”

He lets out a loud laugh. The sound of it spreads warmth on her skin. “You tell me.”

Oh. That’s a challenge if Amelie’s ever heard one. But even with his close proximity, this building tension of sorts that’s been present ever since they’ve met and his watchful but kind eyes, waiting for the next move, she’s still not sure. 

Fuck it. 

She kisses him anyway. 

Jack responds immediately, his hands finding a home on her hips in a way that has her smiling into his lips. She thinks he’s smiling too, but she pulls away too quickly to really know. He is grinning when she pulls away though, a sparkle in his eye she hasn’t seen quite yet.

He pouts playfully and she wants to kiss him again. But she restrains herself and glares at him instead. “What’s the pout for?”

“What’s the glare for?” He shoots back, squeezing her hips lightly. “You kissed me yet I feel like you’re about to accuse me of killing Suzie.”

“Suzie would probably kill you first,” she replies absentmindedly, before stepping away. Mostly so she doesn’t lose control again and kiss him. 

Amelie might be starting to question her decision, but Jack’s smile is easy. Light. “You gonna let me kiss you again?”

She snorts, but it’s more fond than anything. “Next time.”

He sticks his bottom lip out in displeasure, but he backs away. “I’m holding you to that.” 

She follows him back to the kitchen with a light pep in her step paired with an alarm bell in her mind.

day twenty - jack

Jack automatically smiles when Clementine Sandoval’s face appears on his phone screen. “Hey Clee.”

“Jacky!” She exclaims. “You look tan.”

He gasps in delight. “Really? Thank you.”

His pseudo-older sister rolls her eyes, “Nevermind. I take it back. How are you? What’s up? How’s Michigan? Where are Q and Lukey?”

He chuckles at her onslaught of questions, a pang of guilt in his heart because he hasn’t called her that much since he left New Jersey mid-June. To be fair, he didn’t want to interrupt her trip to visit her new boyfriend in Switzerland — Jack still has to remind himself sometimes that his captain is dating someone who he’s considered a sister ever since he can remember. He loves it, but the fact that Nico could basically become his brother-in-law is a fact he still hasn’t wrapped his head around.

But that pang of guilt washes away quickly, like it always does, as he looks at her warm smile. “I’m good. Michigan’s great. Quinn’s out getting groceries and Luke’s probably still napping. Are you busy?”

“Not at all. I’m just making dinner. I actually do miss you guys at the apartment a lot.”

Jack grins. “We miss you a lot too, Clee. Wish you were here.”

“So what’s up?”

“Hm?”

“You’re chewing on your drawstrings. You only do that when something’s on your mind.”

He lets the drawstrings fall from his mouth as he narrows his eyes. “How do you know that?”

She snorts, “Because I know you, Jack. What’s going on?”

The sound of her sink water running fills the air as Jack takes a deep breath. “I met a girl.”

He snickers as Clementine, with her back towards the camera, freezes. Slowly, she turns back around. “You met a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she starts chopping some garlic. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name’s Amelie. She’s a year younger than me. Just graduated from Michigan. She knows Luke, actually, used to photograph the hockey games.”

“She knows Luke?”

“Yeah. Her grandparents just bought a place two houses down from us and she was walking the dog one day and…yeah.”

Clementine hums, clearing the chopped garlic off her knife and into a small bowl. “What’s she like?”

“She’s a bit quieter, but quick and sarcastic as hell when you get to know her. She’s creative, because, you know, photographer. She’s really pretty. Hang on, I’ll send you a picture,” Jack does just that, sending one he took of her and Adam the other night, waiting for Clementine to look at it before he continues. “She’s always saying something really interesting and cool. I don’t know. We’ve been hanging out a lot the last two weeks and she’s just, really great.”

“You met two weeks ago?”

“More or less.” Jack bites his lip, trying to read the abnormally-unreadable look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing. She just graduated? Any plans after post-grad?”

“Said she’s talking to a few NHL teams for a photographer gig.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”

“Yup.”

“Damn,” Clementine says. “That’s awesome. So what? You like her?”

“I think so?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Fine. Yes. I do.”

She smirks. “That wasn’t so hard, was it now?” Jack glares at his phone as she giggles. “Okay. Does she like you back?”

“She kissed me the other day.”

“Oh,” Clementine’s eyes sparkle and Jack feels bashful for some reason. “Did she now? So she must.”

“Hopefully.”

She gives him a look. “Jack.”

“What?”

“You’re being annoying on purpose.”

“I’m not being annoying,” Jack responds instinctively. Okay, maybe he is. “I just, I don’t know. I haven’t felt like this in awhile. Maybe ever.”

“Felt like what, exactly?”

And this is why Jack called the older brunette. She pushes him in a way that isn’t overbearing, but just the right amount where she’s not gonna take getting brushed off. Sometimes, Jack thinks he gets away with brushing things off too easily. Blame it on growing up with two brothers. Luckily, Clementine doesn’t let that happen. 

“Felt this excited about someone.”

“That’s a good thing, Jack.” She says. 

“Yeah.” Suddenly, it’s like a dam breaks. He hasn’t really talked to anyone about how exactly he feels about Amelie yet. “She’s…..I think I really like her, Clee. Like, I just want to be around her all the time. When I’m around her, I just, I don’t know. I can’t stop smiling. 

“She must be some girl.”

“She is,” he responds confidently. 

“So now what? You two have kissed. What’s next? Labels or no?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“No. I don’t.” Silence. Clementine stops the movement on her end and looks at Jack. He swallows. It’s the kind of look that she only pulls out when she’s about to say something he might not want to hear. “What?” He says defensively. 

“Nothing. Well, that’s not true. It’s okay to not know. You guys literally just met. Really. Just…be careful. I’m sure she’s lovely, but I don’t..you seem to really like her. I’d hate to see you get hurt over this.”

“I won’t,” Jack says confidently. “Clee, you know me. I don’t get my heart broken.”

“You also don’t get like this about girls,” Clementine points out. “And you know how I know that? You’ve known Amelie for two weeks and you’re already telling me about her. It took you three months for you to even mention to me that you had a girlfriend last time. Just…be careful, okay? You’re only in Michigan for so much longer.”

“I will,” Jack says. 

Clementine only nods, before they switch the conversation back to her trip to Switzerland. But the rest of the conversation, Jack can’t help but keep seeing Clementine’s worried look in her mind. 

Clementine’s usually right. He hopes she’s wrong this time. 

day twenty three - amelie

Amelie takes a deep breath before accepting a good luck hug from her grandparents and shutting the front door. She smiles at the sight of Jack’s car and slides over into his passenger seat with practiced ease. 

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“We’re literally going to the same place.”

“Still.”

Jack backs out of her driveway with an easy smile. “You nervous?”

Like, yeah. But she shrugs. “Even if I am, nothing I can do about it now.”

“You’ll get the job,” he says confidently. “I know it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she chuckles. “Where are Quinn and Luke? Don’t you all practice together?”

“Yeah. I forced them to take another car.”

“You didn’t have to kick them out.”

“I think I did.” She just gives him a look. Jack smiles easily. “Don’t worry about it. Remind me of the address again?”

She wordlessly connects her phone to his car and puts in the address of the cafe she’s meeting Heather at. 47 minute drive and she has to be there at 10 a.m. sharp. She’ll have around ten minutes to spare. 

It’s clear they both woke up not long ago, content to spend most of the drive in comfortable silence with her occasional humming to whatever song she has playing from her phone. It’s mostly softer tunes to accompany the earlier hour, Maggie Rogers, Lizzy McAlpine and Noah Kahan appearing the most frequently. She’s 99% sure this isn’t close to Jack’s style of music at all, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

As he turns off the highway, she takes a deep breath, smoothing down her silk navy short-sleeved blouse she’s deemed her good-luck shirt — she wore it during her first interview with the NHL months ago. Luckily, it’s different people this time. 

“I’m serious,” Jack says. “You’re gonna be great and you’re gonna get that job and get the fuck out of Michigan.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” They pull up to the cafe and she turns to face him with a grateful smile. “Thank you for driving me.”

“I’ll come by as soon as practice is done.”

She waves him off. “Take your time.”

He leans in to kiss her cheek sweetly. “Good luck. You’re gonna kill it.”

Her stomach is flipping now for a whole different reason. She quickly opens the passenger door and looks at Jack’s sweet smile one more time before shutting it. 

The interview goes…so well. So well that she has a job by the end of it, with a promised contract being sent to her email within the next hour. But she barely has to answer any questions before they’re asking her if she’ll take it. It catches Amelie by complete shock and happiness that it takes so much for her to keep her cool in front of Josh, her possible future manager, and Sasha, the recruiter she’s been in touch with this whole time. 

All of her hard work has accounted for something? She wants to pinch herself as she shakes both of their hands and watches them walk out. 

But something settles in her stomach when she looks down at the notes she took. In her cursive-like handwriting. 

Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils 

Staring at the last word on the page, she swallows. The Devils. She’s gonna be photographing Jack. 

Realistically, she knew that this always would’ve been a possibility. But she never let herself entertain the idea. 

But now it’s real. And it’s terrifying. And she kissed Jack eight days ago. She wants to throw up.

With shaky hands, she texts Jack that she’s done. He doesn’t respond right away so she takes a deep breath, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup, her brain going a million miles an hour. 

She’s responding to her family’s texts before Jack’s name flashes through with the alert of a call. “Hello?”

“Well?” Jack’s voice echoes through her ears. “Did you get it?”

“Come pick me up and find out,” she tries to tease. She hopes he can’t detect her shaky voice over the phone.

“Amelie,” he whines. “Come on. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

She lets out a quiet chuckle. “Do you think I’d be this happy if I didn’t get it?”

A pause. And then, “Let’s fucking go, baby! I knew you had it in the bag.”

“Come pick me up so I can tell you more about it,” she mutters 

“You got it.” 

11 minutes later, she sees Jack park by the curb and she walks out of the cafe, willing her hands to stop sweating. He quickly comes around the car and gives her a giant hug. She laughs as he lifts her up. 

“So,” he sings as he starts the engine. “Do you know with what team? Or teams?”

Amelie hopes her poker face is intact. “Actually, not yet. That’s the only thing they haven’t fully settled on yet. And I might not know until, like, a month before I start.”

He tuts. “That’s a bit annoying. They just expect you to move to wherever on such short notice?”

She swallows roughly, hoping he doesn’t notice. “I guess. They said they can help me find housing though, which is helpful.”

He hums, before shaking her thigh with a laugh. “Amelie. This is amazing. You should be so proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Instead of turning onto the highway, Jack takes a right. “Where are we going?”

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?”

“Not until like, 4.”

“Perfect.”

She has to laugh out loud when the USA Hockey arena comes into view. “You forget something?”

“No,” he says simply. “Have you ever skated before?”

“I photographed your younger brother at Michigan.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’ve skated.” 

Fair. “I have. I’m not very good though.”

He kills the engine and flashes her a charming smile. “Come on. To celebrate.”

Amelie lets Jack charm the person working the rentals and watches him tie the skates on her feet, smiling softly as he does it carefully, making sure they’re tight enough. She takes his hand as she steps onto the ice, wobbling a bit but quickly gaining her balance. There’s no one else at this particular rink, which she’s thankful for. People would have questions, and she doesn’t have any of the answers. 

She lets herself laugh and have fun as Jack spins them around. She takes a deep breath, letting the smells and sounds of an empty hockey arena fill her senses again. 

This is gonna be her future for the next while. If she thinks too hard, she can picture herself in Newark, in the Prudential Center, with Jack across from her, just like this. She swallows at the sight of Jack’s bright eyes. 

Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils 

“You’re amazing,” Jack says a bit later, as they’re gliding in the middle of the ice, her hands in his, facing each other. “I’m serious. You’re going to crush it.”

She tries not to tear up, looking down at their skates. “I’m really excited,” she says. “This is, kind of, everything I’ve been working towards.”

“I know,” Jack smiles, tugging at her hands lightly. “You nervous at all?”

“A bit. Is that weird?”

He snorts. “No. I was scared shitless my rookie year, despite trying to act like hot shit.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“But you’re not me, because you’re healthily humble and you have the talent to back up your skill. It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s all gonna work out just fine.”

She hums, hands boldly reaching out to cup his face. She only has so much time left. She swears he softens into her touch. “Quite good at the pep talks, huh?”

“Not usually,” he murmurs, leaning closer as his lips ghost hers. “But, I don’t know. You seem to bring out a different side of me.”

“That’s sappy as shit.”

“I can be sappy.”

“Sure you can.” She hums as he presses a delicate kiss on her lips. She chuckles airily as he pulls away only to start peppering kisses on her cheeks. 

For a bit, Amelie squashes her overthinking and just breathes in everything Jack Hughes. 

(Unbeknownst to both Amelie and Jack, Jim sees them from the offices upstairs. He smiles to himself, as he watches his son spin the brunette girl around the ice, the joy palpable on both their faces)

day twenty five - jack

He doesn’t even bother to come up with an excuse anymore when he shows up on Stanley and Ruth’s front door the next morning. He accepts a cup of coffee when Ruth tells him Amelie’s in the shower, chatting casually with them both about the weather, golf, his family and the upcoming season. 

When Amelie comes down the stairs, she doesn’t even look surprised, simply waving before tossing her hair up and grabbing her bag. She mentioned over text that she just had to run some “boring” errands today. He jumped at the chance to join her. 

With some argument, she relents and lets him drive. He has to stop himself from looking over at her, overwhelmed at…her. Just her. 

The grocery store first to get groceries for Stanley and Ruth, which causes Jack to swallow because God, the way Amelie takes care of the people in her life reminds him of Clementine, who always saw the best in Jack before he was anything. 

Then a stop by at a farm to table place for lunch where Amelie says she’s been dying to try. Then Target, then CVS, then the bank. They never really hold hands, but they’re always in each other’s orbit comfortably. That’s enough for him.

Before being done for the day, a quick detour to a small beach that Amelie claims has “incredible sunsets.” He follows her obediently as she jumps out of the car with her film camera. The sunset is beautiful, but, and it’s so cliche and gross and he would get chirped to hell if his friends could read his mind, Amelie’s prettier. 

He can’t help but take out his phone to take a picture of her back against the cotton candy sky. He always posts some sort of a summer dump on his Instagram. Maybe this picture will go in there. 

day thirty two - amelie

“Who’s gonna be there again?” 

“Honestly, who knows at this point?” Jack’s voice floods her ears through her airpods as she takes Susie on a walk and Jack’s driving back from who knows where. 

“And this is tonight?”

“Yup. Because it’s someone’s birthday? Ethan’s, maybe?”

“Not Eddy,” she responds automatically. “His birthday’s in June.”

“I forget how close you two are.”

“To be fair, the only reason I remember is because he’s like, five days older than I am,” Amelie shushes Susie, who’s barking at a squirrel. “And you’re all gathering at some sort of sports bar at fucking Ann Arbor of all places to… celebrate? Reminisce?”

She can practically hear Jack’s pout. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she chides gently. “I, just, I’m just confused about-”

“Confused about what?”

“About why you’d want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?” Jack says softly. 

She swallows, playing with Susie’s leash. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome,” she knows Jack’s smiling through the phone and she can’t help but smile as well, even though she feels a pit forming in her stomach. “I’m DDing because I lost a bet against Luke on the course yesterday, so you can go as hard as you’d like.” A rustle on his end of the phone. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later?”

“What time are you coming?”

“Around 7:30?”

“Perfect.”

“See you soon.”

Amelie hears him pull up at 7:23 as she’s scrolling on her phone. A deep breath before opening the door and she doesn’t expect Jack to be walking up her steps. 

“Oh,” she blinks. “Hi.”

Jack smiles up at her. “Hey.”

She looks beyond his shoulder and sees some movement in the backseat of the running car. “You didn’t have to step out.”

“Feels impolite just honking.” She lets him wrap her in a quick hug before she slips into the passenger seat. She turns around immediately to smile at Ethan, Luke and Dylan. “Hi boys. You sure none of you wanna take the front seat?”

“We are under strict orders from Jack that as long as you’re in the car, we will be banished to the back,” Luke snickers. 

Jack blindly reaches back to smack his brother’s leg. “I’m already driving you losers. Don’t make me regret it.”

Luke gasps. “I’m not the one who lost the bet.” Another slap to the leg from Jack and another yelp from Luke. 

Once they reach the bar and Jack somehow finds street parking, the boys pile out quickly and head to the bar. Her and Jack stray behind, and he locks the car before swinging an arm around her shoulder, sneaking a kiss to her temple. 

She shouldn’t, but she leans into it. Leans into him. The bustling bar is coming into view and she’s getting nervous. 

He pokes at her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He offers her a skeptical look but lets it go. “You’ll know most of the people there. No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she lies. 

He snorts, but doesn’t respond. He does pull her closer to his side though. 

Immediately when they walk in and Amelie realizes she has been here before. Not many times, maybe only three or four, but enough for the environment itself to not be unfamiliar. She surveys the scene while letting Jack steer them both towards a corner where both people she knows and doesn’t know are gathering. The first person she makes eye contact with happens to be Carina Scholl, a girl she went to high school with. Because of course. This state is so damn small. Before she can spiral over it, Amelie’s quickly distracted by the sound of Mark Estapa’s voice.

And then it’s like a floodgate opens. Members of the Michigan Men’s hockey team, present and past, greet her, standing in a sort of messy line, almost like they’re queuing to hug her. It starts with Mark, then Rutger and Kienan and Luca. Then Mackie and Nolan, who she hasn’t seen in far too long and didn’t realize she missed until now. 

She feels quite touched that they all seem so excited to see her, wrinkling her nose when Rutger pulls her ponytail lightly.  When everyone calms down, Jack slides her favorite cider towards her. She smiles at him in thanks and he just winks before being pulled into a conversation about hockey that honestly has Amelie immediately tuning them out. 

She ventures to familiar territory — a booth housing Ethan and Luke — and they happily let her slide between them, introducing her to the faces she doesn’t recognize as she politely nods. She does brighten up when one of the girls, Sarah, she notes, says she recognizes her from her photography. (“I was on the gymnastics team. My family might have one of your photos framed in the house.”). 

Photography and Michigan. Those are topics Amelie can talk about. 

After a bit, the boys slide out and she finds herself gravitating towards Sarah and two of her friends Amelie doesn’t know, content with sitting back and listening into their conversation, with some comments here and there. She spots two more girls she went to high school with — Shannon and Abby — and swallows roughly. She’s pulled back in the conversation with a call of her name from Madison. 

“I saw that you came in with Jack Hughes,” Madison says. Immediately, Amelie wants this conversation to end. But Madison’s smile is curious, not malicious. “Are you two…you know?”

Amelie blinks, stomach suddenly dropping. “Are we…”

“Together,” Sarah finishes with a teasing eye roll. “I don’t know why you didn’t just say it, Maddy.”

“I didn’t want to be impolite!” Madison exclaims as Ellie, the third girl, laughs. “I mean, we just met. It’s none of my business, really.”

“We’re not,” Amelie says, softly but firmly, even though she wants to crawl under the table right now. “Friends through Luke, I guess. Found out my grandparents live by him and Quinn’s place just a few weeks ago.”

“You hadn’t met beforehand?”

“Nope.”

“Huh,” Ellie says. Amelie follows Ellie’s eyeline to where Jack is talking to Adam. With a High Noon in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans and that stupid backwards cap on his head, Amelie can’t look away. “I wouldn’t have predicted that. It seems like you’ve known each other forever.”

Amelie laughs shakily. “He’s like that with everyone.”

The girls let it go, but Amelie can’t. Is it that obvious to people? Should it be? Is he like this with everyone? It wouldn’t surprise her if he was. Just because they’ve kissed, doesn’t mean she’s anything special. 

After a bit, she excuses herself to go grab another drink. If Jack is also at the bar as she approaches, that’s just a coincidence. 

It’s interesting. She simultaneously wants to be away from him, especially because it seems like “Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils” is flashing through her mind at all times. But she also wants to be around him because he makes her feel at ease

She nods at Luca, who Jack was talking to, with a wry smile. “Luca.”

“Amelie,” he sings in the same tone. Amelie considers herself closer to the younger Fantilli, but Luca’s constant positive energy was always a welcome sight when she entered Yost. “You look beautiful.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“I feel like you’re about to yell at me for not answering the question again.”

“That was one time,” she says dryly. “Let it go.”

Jack looks between the two of them with interest. “Amelie being a strict TA? That doesn’t surprise me.”

“She wasn’t strict, perse,” Luca teases. “Just didn’t want to deal with our shit.”

“Because I dealt with it enough at the rink,” Amelie says. She brightens up momentarily when Jack shoves another cider in her hand. Without thinking, she presses a quick kiss on his cheek as a thank you. Luca, to his credit, just raises his eyebrows before Gavin beckons him elsewhere. 

She pokes at Jack’s chest. “You trying to loosen me up? You didn’t have to buy me another.”

“I told you to go crazy, didn’t I?”

“I think I’ve spotted three people here who went to my high school.”

Jack just raises an eyebrow casually. “No shit. Did you say hi?”

Amelie snorts. “No.”

“Why not?”

She gives him a look and realizes he doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to get into it. “I just don’t feel like it.”

“You sure?” He nods at something behind her and she turns around, making eye contact with Carina. 

She turns back around to face Jack again. “I’m sure.”

(She’s not. She’s not sure about anything all of a sudden. It’s starting to feel like too much for her. But that’s not Jack’s problem to deal with)

“Okay,” he stops pushing. “Who should we tackle talking to next?”

“Didn’t know this was a team effort,” she teases lightly, the weight on her shoulders deflating by the second. 

He readjusts his hair under his hat with a roguish grin. “Hey. I dragged you here. And these are mostly Luke’s friends. Of course we’re in this together.”

She rolls her eyes. Because he’s a liar. But she humors him, nodding over to a group consisting of Rutger, his girlfriend Kayleigh, Nolan, Mackie and Mark. “They seem safe.” Jack snorts, but obliges, letting her lead the way. 

More time passes, and Amelie’s buzzed. Jack mutters in her ear that they’re probably gonna head out within the next 20 minutes or so, which she could’ve predicted, as their crowd is getting smaller and smaller. Adam already smacked a kiss on her cheek as a farewell. She figures she should probably go pee before the drive back. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she walks out and pauses suddenly in her tracks. She watches a girl blatantly flirt with Jack, which is fine, it is. The frog she has in her throat isn’t anything. The prickling she feels in her spine is because of the heat, not because of the girl’s hand placed on his bicep. She can’t even let herself feel any sort of satisfaction when Jack casually shifts himself a bit away from her politely. 

It suddenly all hits her in the face. It’s like the bubble she’s been living in for the last however many days has immediately popped. 

Of course he’s being flirted with. This probably happens everytime he goes out. How could she be so stupid?

Jack’s never going to be anything more than a friend. He’s based out of New Jersey for most of the year — which, to be fair, Amelie might also be in a few months, which he still doesn’t know — and Amelie’s 99% sure it just wouldn’t work. They’re too…he’s him and she’s who she is and this isn’t how it all works. 

Sure, she kissed him first. But she didn’t mean for it to go this far. And sure, he kissed her back. But he’s one of the biggest up and coming superstars in the league that she’s about to work for. To some degree, she knows how this is gonna end. She’s lived through it. 

(Sometimes, she’s relieved that MLB never got back to her. The idea of having to photograph Cooper almost makes bile creep up her throat._

She has to stop this before it crashes at their feet.

Amelie takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, before making her way back to Jack. He looks towards her and brightens up, excusing himself from the girl before jumping off his stool with her jacket she asked him to hold while she went to the bathroom. 

“Ready to go?” He mutters. 

Amelie nods stiffly. “Where are the others?”

“I told them to wait by the car. Do you need to say goodbye to anybody else?” 

She looks around. “No. I did my rounds before I went to the bathroom.” He hums and she follows him out of the bar. ignoring his outstretched hand. 

(She misses the flash of hurt that passes by Jack’s eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came) 

“Thanks again for coming with me,” Jack says, his voice suddenly sounding so loud contrasting with the quiet Ann Arbor air. “Really. I know it’s not your scene but I appreciate it anyways.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, hoping he doesn’t pick up on her sudden change of mood. 

He does, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine. Everything is fine.”

“You’re lying to me.”

She doesn’t quite snap back, but it’s close enough to it. “How would you know that?” 

He blanches slightly, but they’re at the car. So he just wordlessly opens the door for her. She smiles softly at Ethan, who ruffles her hair from the back and snorts at Dylan and Luke, who are sleeping with their mouths wide open. 

The drive goes by extremely quickly yet painfully slow at the same time. Amelie actively avoids eye contact with Jack, busying staring out her window and making mindless conversation with Ethan. If he feels the tension. he ignores it. 

Jack pulls up to his place first, rolling his eyes as Luke, Dylan and Ethan clamber into the house. As soon as the door shuts, Jack turns to her. She reluctantly turns to him.

“Are you okay?” His eyes hold so much concern. It makes Amelie bite her lip. “And please be honest with me.”

“I’m fine, Jack,” she croaks out. She’s a bit tipsy. She’s very tired. Her resolve is crumbling fast. She feels like she’s running out of time. “I think I’m just overstimulated.”

“I’ll drive you home,” he says softly. He places a gentle kiss on her forehead and it takes everything in Amelie not to let her eyes tear up. 

He’s barely backed out of his driveway when she can’t take it anymore. “Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils.”

Silence. “What?” He says.

“Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils,” she repeats, trying to keep her voice steady. “Those are the teams I’m covering.”

He parks in her grandparents’ driveway, killing the engine. “Did you just find this out today?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “No. I’ve known since I got the official offer.”

The silence washes over her like the most destructive tidal wave. “You lied to me?” He whispers. 

“I’m so-”

“Why did you lie to me?” He asks in a hurt voice. 

“Jack-”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” She snaps her mouth shut. That gives him his answer. He swallows roughly, running a hand through his hair. “So what? You were gonna just walk in during media day and pretend we haven’t met before?”

“That’s not fair,” she manages to get out. 

“Pretend we haven’t kissed before?” Jack presses on.

That makes the fire in Amelie’s stomach flame. “We’ve known each other for like, a month, Jack. I don’t owe you anything.”

He scoffs. “You don’t think so?” She flinches at his harsh tone and he softens a bit with a sigh. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

There’s plenty of reasons why. Many of which Amelie doesn’t want to say out loud. She settles for: “I mean, would it have mattered?” Her voice cracks. “You were always going to go back to Jersey and I was always gonna leave Michigan and whatever this was would’ve only lasted for so long.”

“Whatever this is?” Jack repeats, tilting his head back against the headrest in frustration. “So what? You thought that we’d go back to our regular lives and all of this would just…be forgotten?”

“I don’t know,” she says, frustrated. 

“But you clearly thought about it.”

“Of course I did,” she squeezes her eyes shut. “Jack, you’re…you’re Jack Hughes. I don’t necessarily care about it like that but I know you have a franchise on your shoulders and you’re the best of the best and we met under weird coincidences and I’m glad we have, believe me, but this always had a timer on it.”

“What exactly is ‘this?’” The roughness in his voice has Amelie simultaneously feeling like she wants to cry and scream. Jack laughs humorlessly. “And it’s funny you bring up all that shit now, considering you never for once cared about who I was and all of that since the day we met.”

“I don’t care,” Amelie insists. “In fact, it’s probably the thing about you I care the least about, in the nicest way possible. But whether we both like it or not, it’s a huge part of who you are. And I don’t know if I…”

“If you?”

“If I have a place in your life when it comes to that.”

“Because of what I do? Because of my job?”

Amelie scoffs. “Stop trying to underplay what you do and the impact you have on the league, Jack. I may have just met you a month ago but I, in some way, work in the same fucking industry you do. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re probably one of the smartest people I’ve met in my life. I’m not trying to underplay anything. At the end of the day, hockey is just my job. LIke photography is yours. I don’t see how that has anything to do with us.”

“Well, maybe that’s exactly the problem.”

Jack huffs. “It’s my life. Shouldn’t I have a say in if I want you in it or not?”

And sure, Amelie thinks, Jack has a point, but so does she, even if she’s not explaining it well. She turns in her seat to fully face him and tries a different angle. Tries to get him to understand. “Have you thought about this at all? Like, sat down and really thought about what’s gonna happen when we both leave Michigan? Jack, you know I don’t want to come back unless I have to.”

“What does that have to do with us at all?”

“Jack,” she deadpans. “You love this place. You feel the most comfortable here, you told me that yourself. All I want to do is get out here and all you want to do is stay.” She deflates. “You really didn’t think about the future of any of this?”

“Yes! No. Maybe?” Jack raises his voice in frustration. “I just-I enjoyed, enjoy, spending time together. You kind of make me forget how to think when I’m around you in the best way possible. And I want to be around you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

“I still don’t even know what we are! Friends? Friends who kiss sometimes? Dating? Hooking up because it’s convenient?”

He blanches. It’s the most hurt he’s looked this whole conversation. “Amelie-” he whispers.

“I know I’m being unfair, but please try to understand my reasoning,” she wipes her tears with the sleeve of her top. “I was already up for this job before I met you. And then I met you. And then I thought, oh, maybe I do care about where I end up. Wouldn’t that be nice and convenient? But we’ve known each other for a month. And I’m not gonna let someone I’ve only known for so long dictate the start of this really important moment for me.”

“I wouldn’t have ever asked you to do that,” Jack says meekly. “I know how important your career is to you.”

“And I believe that,” Amelie softens with a swallow. They’re not getting anywhere productive. “I-I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“But you did,” he says. He runs his hand roughly through his hair again. The curls are beginning to become very unruly.  “Was this whole month just, I don’t know, were we not on the same page?”

“Maybe we weren’t,” she bites her quivering lip. “I like you, Jack. I do. But I can’t…I can’t do this. Us. Whatever this is.”

Silence, before his voice cracks. “Now or ever?” 

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry.” She cries, rubbing her eyes roughly with the palms of her hand. She knows this is all her fault. She knows this isn’t the only thing he kept from him. She knows that she’s been cautious telling him important things about herself this whole time, where he’s been nothing but fearless and honest. She knows she fucked up. 

But she can’t say any of that out loud. He wouldn’t get it. And maybe she doesn’t really want him to. Isn’t ready for him to

She feels his hand on her cheek, which causes her to cry harder, her tears falling cascading onto his fingers. Through blurry vision, she can see him swallowing roughly. “Can I say one last thing?”

She can’t help but let out a weak laugh. “Sure.”

“A few weeks ago, you asked me if the top was a lonely place to be. And you know, it can be a lot,” he admits. Her heart aches at how vulnerable he’s being. “My brothers and teammates and friends understand mostly, but it’s not the same. Y-you’re the first person in a long time who's made me feel like it doesn’t have to be lonely.”

That causes Amelie to cry even harder. Every part of her is fighting her to fight for him. To keep groveling, even though it doesn’t even seem like he wants that, which is somehow even more heartbreaking. To fill in the gaps for him about why she can’t fully let go and let him in. But she can’t. “I-I’m sorry I lied to you. And I’m sorry it had to be this way,” she croaks out.

“Me too,” he says, backing away slightly. She misses his touch instantly. “I-I’ll give you some space and n-not contact you for awhile. Um, you have my number. When…if you ever wanna reach me, you know how to.”

Her heart splices in half completely. She’s the one who lied to him and he’s the one offering space. Amelie knows she’s selfish for asking her final question, but she does it anyways. “And you’d pick up?”

Jack laughs with a watery smile, “Every time.”

It takes all her willpower to not kiss him one last time. She unbuckles her seatbelt and rushes into her grandparents house. She closes the front door and leans her back on it, sliding down and muffles her cries into her hand. 

day thirty three - jack 

Everything hurts. 

That’s the first thing Jack thinks when his eyes blearily open with the sun. His eyes hurt from crying too many freaking times the last few days. His ribs hurt from where Luke checked him into the boards yesterday. It wasn’t even a particularly hard hit, but Jack’s head was anywhere but the ice and he didn’t see it coming until it was too late. 

And his heart just…hurts. 

Luckily, they have the day off today so he can sulk without feeling too guilty. Maybe he’ll take the boat out into the water by himself and just lay there. He hears some voices downstairs and squeezes his eyes shut to try and decipher them. Quinn, Luke, Dylan and Ethan. The latter two obviously don’t know him as well, but Jack knows them well enough that they’d probably actually be really nice about Jack’s situation. Especially because Ethan’s close to…yeah.

Jack launches himself out of bed, quickly brushes his teeth and splashes some water in his face before stumbling downstairs, his pace faster once he smells a fresh pot of coffee. 

“Mornin’” Jack croaks out, nodding at Dylan and Ethan who are sitting around the island with Quinn, who just slaps his shoulder in greeting. Luke wordlessly pours out a mug for him and Jack smiles at him gratefully. 

“You look like shit,” Luke says bluntly. Jack would face wash him for that if he had the energy. And if he was wrong. 

“Luke.” Quinn chastises. 

Jack waves his older brother off. “It’s fine. He’s right.” His eye catches the sight of an envelope at the end of the table. “What’s that?”

It’s silent for a few seconds too long until Ethan clears his throat. “Uh, Amelie said she developed the shots for her film camera. Dropped some by that she said you guys might want.” 

Jack swallows with a curt nod, chugging the whole cup of coffee in one go. He nods at Luke to pour him more. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asks tentatively. 

Immediately, Jack wants to shoot that down. But then he looks up, and he sees all four of them looking at him with varying degrees of worry in their eyes. Jack shoves down the instinct to avoid — like he’s been doing the last few days. “I don’t even know where to start.” He whispers.

“Anywhere that makes sense to you.” Quinn suggests, because Quinn’s always been the one who directs. Who guides. 

So Jack lets it all out. He talks about how he purposefully didn’t want to cling to her all night because he didn’t want to come off that way but how he couldn’t take his eyes off her no matter where she was in the room. He talks about how beautiful she looked (“I mean, you guys aren’t stupid. That top with her eyes? Lethal combo.”) and how he had a moment where he felt like all was right in the world. He talks about that subtle shift in her mood after he lost her for a bit and how quiet she was in the car ride home. 

That’s the easy part. 

Jack inhales a muffin from a box that someone must’ve gotten this morning from the local bakery before continuing to recall him and Amelie’s conversation in the car after he dropped off everyone. When he drops the revelation that Amelie’s actually going to be around the Tri-State area covering the Rangers, Islanders, Flyers and the fucking Devils, all four of them look shocked, but don’t say anything. He talks about how his initial reaction was that he was hurt that she hadn’t told him because he thought that they had something going on between them. He talks about how he felt like the conversation escalated so quickly but also calmly because Amelie doesn’t raise her voice and Jack is not a yeller and how it almost would’ve been easier had they been screaming at each other. He talks about how he can’t really remember when Amelie started crying but how he can remember how he felt his stomach dropping to his feet when she did. He can barely remember how they fucking got there in the first place. 

Jack sniffles, hastily wiping his tears away before they can fully fall. “All I know is that I fucking made her cry and whatever we had is probably ruined, which is extremely fucking convenient considering I’m gonna be seeing her around during the season.”

“It’s not ruined,” Ethan speaks up after a few seconds of silence. 

Jack snorts. “No offense, man, But how would you know that for sure?”

“I know you two have gotten close in the last month or so, but besides that, I would argue that out of everyone here, I’m the closest with her.” And Jack swallows, because shit, Ethan has a point. Ethan continues. “Despite her lying to you and everything falling to pieces, it’s not ruined. Amelie isn’t like that. You have to really fuck up for her to cut you out.”

And like, yeah, Jack knows that, to a degree. But, “I don’t think she’s ever gonna wanna see me again.”

“Well, did you say anything that was particularly horrible?” Luke asks. 

Jack swallows. “No? Maybe I was snappy at some points, but I don’t think so”

“I mean, it’s fair,” Quinn says. “Even though it’s harsh, you were right to be mad about her lying to you.”

“Did I give off that impression that she couldn’t talk to me? Like yeah, we practically just met, but I feel like, I don’t know. I just don’t really get why she’d hide that from me.”

“I might have an idea,” the guys turn to Ethan as he swallows and debates something in his own head. “Uh, this is random, but hear me out. Did she ever tell you about her ex?”

“Which one?” Jack asks.

“Cooper Volt. Baseball player at Michigan. Drafted to the Mets, I think.”

“A bit but not much. Why?”

“Look, I’m not trying to, like, spill her secrets or anything. I think it just might put things in context.” Jack nods and Ethan sighs. “So basically, she was dating him, right? Pretty serious. Lasted for a little over a year. Anyways. I don’t know the details, but I know that the break-up wasn’t pretty. Or, I just assume it wasn’t, because I only found out they broke up after I saw Cooper with another girl on his arm and was confused and literally asked Amelie about it. Apparently, it had only been two weeks since they broke up and he had already gone out and found someone else?”

“What an asshole,” Dylan says, his first verbal participation in the conversation. He’s been munching on cheerios, intensely listening. Quinn’s eyebrows are furrowed in a way that only appears when he’s concerned or really pissed off and Jack’s kinda fuming that someone put her through that.

“Right? Yeah, so that’s that. And typical Amelie, you know, said she was fine and I knew that she had her own friends checking up on her.” Jack’s nodding, following on to his every word, even if a bit confused on where Ethan is going with this. “Okay. So, this is, our sophomore year, so her junior year. The seniors are hosting a party and we convince her to come for once. You know how those parties go. They get big. People are filtering in and out. I just remember coming to the kitchen to refill my drink and seeing Amelie looking so fucking dejected as Cooper and his new girl are talking to her.”

“Did you hear what they said?” Luke asks. 

“No, but I didn’t need to, not with that look in her eye,” Ethan scoffed. “I caught the tail-end of their conversation though, which, like, I don’t even wanna repeat, but it was basically Cooper just saying shit about how he never liked her anyways and he took a shot at her being bi? I don’t think I remember it quite accurately to be honest because the second I heard him say that shit I just saw red.”

“He threw the fact that she’s bi to her face?” Jack asks sharply. He’s trying his best not to throw his cup at the wall.

“Something like it,” Ethan says. “Yeah, I know. Absolute piece of shit. I kicked him and their friends out of the party, because, like, there was no fucking way they were staying.”

“How did I not know about this?” Luke asks. “I’m pretty sure I was at that party.”

“You were. If they had refused to leave or whatever or put up more of a fight, I would’ve gotten backup. But they didn’t. And you know Amelie. She begged me not to make a big deal out of it. So I just kept an eye on her for the rest of the night.” 

“That’s so shitty,” Quinn says softly. “Putting that against her. With his new girlfriend there too.”

“Yeah, but…anyways. The point is, a week or so after that I kinda caught her after a game or something and I drove her back to her place and she kinda exploded. Went on a whole rant about athletes and sports culture from what she’s observed and all that, which I’m not saying isn’t true, but basically, I think the situation with Cooper was kind of the nail on the coffin.”

“That what?” Luke asks. “All athletes suck?”

Ethan clears his throat. “I think getting fucked over by Cooper, and then meeting Jack and realizing she has feelings for him then thinking back to the last time this happened and how it ended…can you blame her for being a bit scared?”

“She should’ve told me she was covering the Devils when she found out where she was gonna be placed.” Jack says firmly, and he stands by it. 

“Probably,” Quinn agrees. “But Jacky, think about it. Even just some of the guys we’ve played with. Not saying they’re all assholes like this guy…it’s just, even if it’s unfair she might place you in the same category, that might be how she feels.” 

“She should’ve told me,” Jack repeats. He squeezes his eyes in frustration. 

“But did you tell her you were serious about her?” Luke says. Immediately, Jack wants to snap back at his younger brother, because he’s a pest and who is he to doubt Jack about his own fucking relationship, or lack thereof. But then, Jack realizes and a whole new pit appears in his stomach. 

“She kept interrupting me,” he whispers. As he puts his head in his hands, he misses the sympathetic looks the other guys exchange. “Fuck. I never-I should’ve been clearer.”

“Jack-”

“I should’ve made that clear from the start,,” Jack says as Luke immediately shuts his mouth. “She had to have known. She had to.” Jack swallows roughly. He’s not the smartest, but he knows now. She didn’t know. And he never clarified what she meant to him. 

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Ethan says softly. Jack just waves his apology away. This is all on him. He excuses himself, putting his dish and mug in the sink. 

“We’re heading out on the water later. You should come,” Quinn gently urges. Jack just nods, before clamoring up the stairs to take a shower or do something, anything to get rid of the feeling in his stomach. 

The feeling that he’s fucked it all up. 

day fifty six - amelie 

Amelie’s at the Prudential Center by 6:30 a.m. The players start rolling in just after 8, while she’s finishing up helping to set up equipment and lighting. She has two cameras on either shoulder and one hanging by her neck and she has a headband in her hair and she feels happy. She feels at home. 

She gets introduced to the guys that she’s been researching for a month now. All of them are pleasant and patient. She does let out a genuine smile when Luke reaches out for a hug in greeting. What happened between her and Jack has nothing to do with him, and she hopes he knows that as she gives him an extra squeeze before pulling away.

When she introduces herself to the captain, she swears there’s a spark of recognition that flashes through Nico’s eyes, but it leaves just as quick as it came. Within their first few minutes of conversation, she concludes that Nico is almost unfairly kind. No wonder Jack loves him. 

It’s 10:19 a.m., and she still hasn’t seen Jack yet. She knows he’s scheduled in for his on-ice media shots sometime in the late morning. She purposefully didn’t grab herself a second cup of coffee after finishing her first one. She can’t be shaking when she’s trying to get pictures of him. 

Jack comes in and shakes everyone’s hand. He just waves at her with a polite smile and she waves back, her stomach dropping. They can play it off as Amelie being across the ice and too far, but in reality, she’s not sure if she would try to fake a handshake and pretend they’ve never met, hug him and never let go, or do something incredibly fucking stupid like kiss him. 

He looks so handsome. He must’ve cut his hair recently, in a shorter style that makes him so carefree and young. 

His stuff takes around 20 minutes, and she doesn’t really have to talk to him, instead just taking direction from Mira, head photographer / videographer.

He’s not directly interacting with her, but she feels her stomach swirling and her palms sweat, causing the camera to almost slip out of her grasp multiple times. She wants to smile at the comfort he brings her just from being near him and wants to cry at how they left things in her grandparents’ driveway. At how bad she still feels for lying to him. At how much she’s missed him, as pathetic as it sounds.

It’s neither of their faults that things fell to pieces the way they did. But now, as she snaps a silhouette shot of Jack, she’s deathly afraid that this is just what it’s gonna be. 

Jack’s the last one before lunch, so while everyone is taking their lunch break, Amelie takes a few moments to head to an empty room. She braces her hands on a table and takes three deep breaths. Her heart is beating fast. Her mind is starting to get away from her. She needs to focus. She cannot fall apart at work.

“Amelie?” She whips around to see Jack, dressed back in his Devils hoodie and shorts, looking at her in concern. 

She wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. “Jack. Hey. Can I help you with something?”

“No,” Jack shuffles into the room. “I just heard your sighs. I- I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It feels like she has molasses in her throat, but she manages to respond. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Okay. Good.” 

He’s about to walk out of the room but her brain thinks before her mouth. “Jack!” He turns back around and she takes a breath.

“Yeah?” His face is unreadable. 

She forces herself to keep eye contact. “Would you wanna maybe grab dinner or something?”

Jack blinks. Amelie wonders if he’s ever been rendered speechless. His voice doesn’t give anything away either. “Like, on a date?” She nods. Her stomach is dropping and she feels shame cripple up her spine until-”

“Yes.”

Her stomach drops, but for an entire different reason. “Really?” She asks in a small voice

“Of course,” His eyes glow and the light smirk on his face doesn’t feel arrogant. It feels light. Fond, even. “That sounds..perfect.”

“Oh, okay.” She whispers and her throat closes up as he steps closer. 

“I’ll text you?”

“I’ll text you.”

He smiles brightly, and she can’t help but smile back. She’s missed that smile so much. “Okay,” he whispers. “I can’t wait.”

“Thank you,” she croaks out. “I’m sorry about…well. I’m sorry.” 

Jack chuckles, and it makes her heart feel a bit lighter. He gingerly grabs both her hands, looking right into her eyes as he brings them up to his lips and kisses them softly. She bites her lip, overwhelmed. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “Promise.” 

“Jack,” she whispers. 

He walks backwards shyly, but his eyes stay on hers stubbornly. “You know, with you, it’s always gonna be a yes.”

“Jack.”

He just winks. Amelie’s breath hitches. “I’ll see you later, Amelie.”

She smiles as he walks out of her sight. 

~*~*~

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