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sydnikov · 3 months

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Being Bold || S. Jarvis

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing

A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.

Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.

Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.

He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.

Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.

He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.

“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.

“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.

Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.

Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.

“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.

You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.

“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”

“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”

“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.

“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”

Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.

Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.

Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.

But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.

“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?

Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.

“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”

“Space? You think she just needs space?”

“Well, not too much space—”

“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.

Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.

Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.

In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?

You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.

It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.

Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.

Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.

You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.

The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.

The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.

“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.

You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”

“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”

It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.

“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”

“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.

If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.

“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”

You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.

You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.

The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.

“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.

“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.

You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.

The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.

“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”

Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”

“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”

Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.

You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”

That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.

“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”

Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.

Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.

He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”

You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.

“I want you. You know that, baby.”

“Seth…”

“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.

You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.

Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.

“Okay.”

Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”

That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”

“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.

You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.

He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.

You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.

For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.

“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.

He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.

“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.

Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.

You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.

He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.

You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.

“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”

You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.

“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.

“Not long enough, babe.”

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.

What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.

“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.

He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.

You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.

Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.

Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.

“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.

“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.

Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.

“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.

“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.

Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.

“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.

He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.

“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.

Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.

Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.

And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?

You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.

If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.

You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.

Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.

You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.

Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.

He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.

Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.

Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.

“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”

Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.

“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.

Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.

When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.

“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”

Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.

“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.

Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.

“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”

Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.

And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.

There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.

Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”

“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”

His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.

His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.

It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.

By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.

You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.

You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.

Especially after Scott. Asshole.

You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.

“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.

His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.

“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.

Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.

Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”

You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.

Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.

He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.

“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”

“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.

Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.

“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.

You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.

“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.

He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.

“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”

“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.

Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.

You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.

Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.

You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.

Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.

While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.

Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.

All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.

With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.

When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.

He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.

You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.

Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”

Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.

He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”

“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.

His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.

When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?

He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.

Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:

Be bold.

“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”

Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.

“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”

And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.

“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”

“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”

You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.

But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.

A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu

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prettytoxicrevolver · 27 days

Text

Jacket | Seth Jarvis

wc. 1.6k

Jarvy sees you in the wags playoff jacket for the first time

(not my best writing tbh. im sorry!)

Growing up, you never had an affinity for fashion.

Your mom was the one who always dressed you and middle school was always that awkward fashion era of everyone’s lives. In high school the different outfits everyone wore had started to pique your interest, wanting to finally find your own style and make yourself feel more confident overall.

By college you had hit your stride and everyone in your life was incredibly confused when you decided to major in fashion business. Your dad was over the moon that you added the business side of it, being a finance director himself, and while your mom was still confused, she enjoyed the new fashion advice from her daughter.

You grew up in North Carolina, heading to FIT in New York for your undergrad before returning home. You spent that summer trying your best to figure out what to do with this new degree, when your life intertwined with Seth Jarvis. Through a mess of awkward run ins, late nights, and a final first date that sealed the deal, you were quick to realize that Seth was it for you. Three years later and you and Seth were closer than ever. He was on his way to another playoff run while you had been living your dream job for a couple of years now.

As April loomed near and the season was coming to an end, the wag groupchat had started to pick up. The girls were discussing playoff chances and who should be planning the wag jackets this year and you were voted the number one choice. You tried to get out of it, worried that what you made wouldn’t be good enough but the girls shut you down quickly, knowing whatever you make would be iconic.

You found yourself dreaming up ideas in the middle of meetings, doodling in the corners of your notebooks, looking up colors and fabrics, and finally caving to create a full fledged design when Seth had come bounding home with the news of a playoff clinch.

The drawing you come up with is a high school varsity style jacket in black, the front saying Carolina in uppercase bold red letters, with the words cause above one pocket and chaos on the other side. One sleeve has the previous cup win dates while the other sleeve has the boy’s number and the original canes logo underneath it. Lastly, the bottom hem of the jacket is decorated with the storm warning flags similar to the boys jerseys and classic name and number on the back in the same color and font as the Carolina.

Ever since finalizing the design, you instantly headed to the store and grabbed a blank black varsity jacket and started your work. You had fallen so deep into the job, focusing on each tiny detail for your prototype that you didn’t even hear Seth coming home. You had just finished on the front when you heard the door of your office creak open and you turn to see Seth with a tired smile on his lips.

“Hey there pretty girl,” he says, sauntering his way into the room and your heart skips at the sight of him. You’re distracted for a moment just at the sight of him, but when you notice his eyes flicker over to your current project you flinch and get up.

“No!” you screech, taking quick steps towards your boyfriend and covering his eyes with your hand. Seth freezes against you, concerned in his movements but when he hears a breathy laugh escape from your lips he knows everything is okay.

“Uh why can’t I look?”

“It’s bad luck!” you squeal, nudging your boyfriend out of your office and Seth rolls his eyes, his lashes fluttering lightly against your hand.

“I’m sorry did I propose and forget or something?” he asks when you finally drop your hand from his eyes and shut your office door behind you.

“No but if you are going to propose I’d wait till off season,” you respond cheekily and Seth grins.

“I was making the wag jackets,” you tell him, slinging your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you.

“Mmm were you?”

Seth leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, trailing one up to your cheek and then finally on your lips, his hips pushing you back against the door so you’re caged in his embrace.

“Mhm,” you murmur against his lips and you feel his grin, the scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. “And you need to go so I can finish them.”

“Or we could do this,” he says and before you know it, Seth has grabbed you around the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and marching his way towards your shared bedroom, your protests of work and prototypes deaf to his ears.

The week leading up to the first playoff game was complete chaos. You hadn’t seen Seth at all, occasionally when he was slipping out of bed and you were just slipping in, bumping into each other when he was out the door and you were coming in and so on.

You were finalizing all of the wag jackets, making sure the matching shoes had arrived and were in good condition as well. You had decided to add a pair of nikes with the players last name on the side to match the jackets and you couldn’t wait to see how each girl would style their outfit. One by one as each girl received their jacket you would be on the other end of a million texts and several facetime calls of the girls freaking out about the job you did. You couldn’t help it, you started to feel good about your work too after being praised so much.

Unfortunately due to both your schedules, you couldn’t see Seth before the playoff game but promised to make it in time for warmups. You and a few of the girls head out together, taking pictures both at your place and when you get to the arena. You head straight for the front, your nerves getting the best of you and you’re bouncing up and down on your heels waiting for Seth to come out on the ice.

Somehow even with the nerves you miss his initial entrance onto the ice. Normally Seth is all serious mode when he starts warmups, only deciding to relax and goof off towards the end of them but when he sees you first, he’s a complete goner.

You’re facing away from the glass but Seth could spot you from miles away in a crowded area, it truly didn’t matter. Your hair was pulled up and out of the way so everyone could see his last name and jersey number plastered on the back of the black varsity jacket. Your smile is wide and he knows you’ve been nervously fidgeting by the way you twist and bounce as you stand.

His heart is pounding twice as hard now, not even registering the world around him as he sees you in your heavenly state with his name on your back. His. His jacket. The one that claims you’re his. God, how did he get so lucky?

He doesn’t know when he stopped paying attention to the movements he was making on his skates until he’s smacking embarrassingly into the glass just before you, startling both you and everyone around. You look up, Seth with an unreadable expression on the other side of the glass and you can’t help the shy smile that creeps onto your lips.

Seth tries to regain some kind of confidence again, shooting a wink in your direction and mischievous grin before taking off on the ice again.

You swear your face hurts from smiling and your throat is no doubt sore from the screaming you had done all of game 1. You and the girls make your way down to the tunnel and talk about the events of the game while you wait for the boys. One by one each girl disappears in the arms of her man, you smiling and bidding goodbyes while you impatiently wait for Seth.

“Is that the future Mrs. Jarvis?” you hear from behind you and you turn to see Jarvy smiling like he just won the damn lottery.

You rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing kisses anywhere you can reach. You exclaim your praise between each kiss and Seth grins shyly against you.

“You did amazing,” you say leaning back to finally look into your boyfriend's big brown eyes and they shine with pride at your words.

“Thank you baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling back and staring at you, his eyes roaming your figure, his fingers tracing the outline of his number on your shoulder and his name on your back.

“What’s up lover boy?” you ask, nervous under his gaze.

“You look damn good with my last name,” he murmurs and your face flushes further.

What Seth doesn’t tell you is that from the first day, he’s known you were the one from him. He doesn’t say that since you had your first date he knew you’d be married one day. He doesn’t say how he wants to spoil his proposal right now and just ask you to marry him because he can’t go another second without having you share his name.

He doesn’t tell you that one piece of clothing has made him imagine the next 50 years of his life in the matter of seconds.

But you don’t need to know that. Not yet at least. So Seth settles for another searing kiss to your lips before slinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you home so he can take that jacket off of you and love you properly.

#seth jarvis x y/n #seth jarvis x you #seth jarvis fic #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #prettytoxicrevolver fic #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine

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stormsplurge · 3 months

Text

happy tears overflowing, lightning bolts so overwhelming

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

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

inspired by anime eyes by kacey musgraves <3

1192 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh god, you thought. i��m fucked.

——

seth asked you out not even a week later.

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

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

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

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

“how’d you even think of this.”

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i love you too.”

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

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laurenairay · 3 months

Text

every breath, every hour has come to this - S. Jarvis

Summary: Seth Jarvis was your best friend, your rock, your protector…but could he ever be anything more?

This is my entry for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I’ve written a Seth Jarvis story for @mp0625, and I really hope you like this – it’s my first time writing for him and I had a lot of fun with it! Thanks for providing some really great prompts for me to work with.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: some bad language, hurt/comfort, alcohol, terrible date, I fudged the Canes�� game schedule.

Title from: A thousand years, Christina Perri

For as long as you could remember, Seth had always been in your life. Two peas in a pod, two goofy little kids, always attached at the hip. Even as hockey became more and more of a fixture in his life, you were right there in the stands, cheering him on at the top of your lungs as his biggest fan. You were his staunchest supporter, always giving him reassurance when his self-confidence cracked or faltered. He was your loyal protector, pushing away anyone that was ever mean to you, including shitty boyfriends. Everyone knew in your small suburb in Winnipeg that where one of you went, the other was sure to follow.

So it was exactly no surprise to your parents (and his) when you followed him down to Raleigh the moment his entry level contract was signed.

You didn’t know what you would do without his energetic personality lighting up your day, the ultimate hype-man even before dates that both of you knew weren’t going to end well, or his sweet smiles in a terrible morning after a fantastic night out with his team. You didn’t know what you would do without his built arms wrapped around you on the sofa while you watched awful reality tv or cheesy movies, broad shoulders perfectly places to rest your head on, and especially waking up after a shared nap together, cementing his self-proclaimed King of Naps title.

Or seeing him wake up from a nap by himself, and his whole face lighting up when he saw you there too.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been in love with Seth, and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d seen the girls Seth went on dates with, and they were nothing like you. Even when the two of you were going on your first dates when you were barely teenagers, his ‘type’ seemed to be the complete opposite of you – so you’d always endeavoured to make sure the guys you dated were the opposite of him. It was the only way to preserve your heart, to keep your incredible friendship with Seth as wholesome and solid as you needed it to be, and not once had you ever messed that up.

Seth Jarvis was the best person in your life and you never wanted that to change. Not for anything. That didn’t mean that you didn’t know how hard your life was going to be when he eventually found his soulmate – but that was a problem for future you, and you refused to do anything but live in the moment.

Speaking of living in the moment…

“Hey Seth, do these shoes go with this dress?”

Living with your best friend really did have its perks – you could always guarantee an honest opinion on your outfit from him.

“Hmm, you can’t go wrong with a little black dress and nice black heels, but where is he taking you?”

“Does that matter?”

“Well yeah, you like those shoes and I know you don’t want them to get ruined by a sticky floor,” Seth pointed out.

He really did know you so well.

“He said he’s taking me out to dinner, but he didn’t tell me where or what the venue was like,” you admitted.

You ignored Seth rolling his eyes.

“The dress is gorgeous but I would change your shoes if you aren’t sure. Maybe those black ankle boots? Not too casual but not too fancy,” Seth suggested.

Incredible.

“You are amazing,” you grinned, jogging back to your room to kick your shoes off.

“And don’t you forget it!”

You just laughed at his shout across the apartment, pulling on the ankle boots he suggested. Just as you thought, he was right. With a swipe of lipgloss, you were ready, so you grabbed your leather jacket and headed back out of your room.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah Seth?” you asked, spinning on your heel.

“Have fun tonight. You look amazing – don’t let him forget that,” Seth said seriously, making you laugh, “And if you need anything, anything at all, call me.”

“You’re going to be my knight in shining armour?” you teased.

“With a guy you don’t know taking you out for a first date on St Patrick’s Day? Absolutely,” Seth mused.

Well you couldn’t fault him there.

“Wish me luck!”

“Luck.”

If only you’d know just how right Seth would be.

“Seth?” you whimpered, hiccupping into your phone.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I know it’s only been three hours, but can you pick me up?” you pleaded.

“Of course, I’ll leave right now. Three hours or three minutes, it doesn’t matter. Send me your location pin, but stay on the line?”

You just sniffed, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see you, doing as he asked.

“Okay, I have it. That’s a real shitty bar, sweetheart.”

You choked out a sob. He had no idea. “Real shitty date too.”

“What did he do?”

You could hear him running out of your shared apartment, down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, and your heart ached with how willingly he dropped his peaceful evening just to help you.

“He lied about taking me out to dinner. Instead he took me to a bar where a bunch of his friends were, and when I asked him why he lied he told me he wanted to celebrate St Patrick’s Day with his buddies and thought I could come along. Which, fine, okay, he thought I would get on with his friends, so I went along with it. Most of his friends were fine, welcoming even, but they were getting drunker and rowdier and I don’t mind that if I’m with people I know and trust like you or your friends, but with strangers? No way. And then he…”

You trailed off, groaning at the memory, Seth just cursing under his breath. You could hear him driving, not even caring for once that he was probably breaking the speed limit. You just wanted him here.

“What did he do?”

“He started getting handsy. Slapping my ass, pulling me into his body with an arm around my waist, all of that shit, making his friends laugh even though it was obvious I was uncomfortable. But then he grabbed at my boobs and-”

“He fucking what?”

Over all the years of Seth protecting you from nasty dates and boyfriends, you’d never heard him so angry. Never.

“He groped me, in front of everyone. But I shoved him away immediately, I swear!” you insisted.

“Hey, I believe you sweetheart. I know that stuff makes you uncomfortable. I swear I’m going to kill him, I’ll-”

“No, no, I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay? I left the bar already,” you said firmly.

“You left the bar? But your location says…”

“I’m outside the bar, still in eyesight of the bouncer just in case, but I’m outside. I walked out the bar because I couldn’t stand to be near him after him threw the remainder of his beer at me for rejecting him.”

“He fucking what?!”

Okay, that was the angriest you’d ever heard him.

“Told you he was a shitty date,” you mumbled, sniffing again as your eyes stung with tears once more.

“This is not your fault. He was an absolute asshole and none of this is on you.”

“Just my luck, right?” you said, huffing out a bitter laugh.

Seth just cursed under his breath again, continuing to mutter about how men were shit and you deserved better and all the things that usually would put such a smile on your face…but right now it just made you want to be home, safe with him, curled up in his arms. Nothing felt better than being with Seth and it was only because of the few drinks that you had that you allowed yourself to think like this. Thankfully, it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before you saw a familiar car screeching into the parking lot, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

He pulled to a stop only metres away from you, and you wasted no time in walking over to him, even as he got out of the car and slammed his door shut, jogging over to meet you halfway.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Seth scowled.

You groaned softly as he took in your blurred mascara and beer-soaked top, and grabbed his hand to break his attention.

“Can we just go? I want to get as far away from here as possible.”

You rested a hand on his chest, gently guiding him backwards towards his car, out of earshot of the bouncer and anyone else who deigned to leave, Seth’s fuming expression never leaving the dive bar you were walking away from.

“Is he still inside? Is that asshole still in there?” Seth demanded.

“Hey, no, come on, leave it. He’s not worth it,” you pleaded.

“He doesn’t get to treat you like that and get away with it. No-one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No-one.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your body thrummed with heat at his furious words, his eyes wild in a way you’d only ever seen on the ice. His fists were clenched, his nostrils were flared, and his shoulders were squared, all the while his cheeks flushing with anger as well. It was only the brief flash of desperation across his face that let you know he wasn’t mad at you – no, this was Seth’s protective side coming out in full force, dialled up to 1000.

“Seth, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your hair as you struggled to find words to defend yourself, relying in his car to lean against and keep you upright. He might not have been mad at you, but it still didn’t feel good to know that your situation was making him react like this.

“It’s not like I go out of my way to date assholes,” you eventually managed, “they just seem to find me.”

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…”

He cut himself off, seeming to need a moment to think, and you waited silently for him to give you something. Anything. Eventually he cleared his throat, the wildness in his eyes replaced by an anguish that made your heart ache.

“I can’t take it anymore. I just wish you’d see what you could have, right in front of you.”

What?

What was he talking about?

Right in front of you?

The more seconds the silence stretched on, the more your confused thoughts swirled and the more frustrated Seth looked, until he groaned in frustration.

“I’m talking about me,” he said through gritted teeth, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“You?” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Yeah and now I wish I’d never said a damn thing so can we please pretend that you’re really drunk instead of tipsy, and never talk about it again?” Seth muttered, avoiding your eyes.

As all of his words started to sink in, you found yourself shaking your head as decades-buried hope dared to surface.

“You’ve never said anything at all! You like me?” you said, needing him to say it again.

Seth huffed out a laugh, still not looking particularly comfortable.

“How could I say anything? I’m nothing like any of the guys you’ve ever dated,” he muttered.

“Because I purposely date guys that are nothing like you!” you shot back.

“What?”

You groaned as embarrassed heat filled your cheeks, turning your head away to give you a chance to save a scrap of dignity, but then Seth’s hand was cupping your face, gently turning you back to look at him properly. Never had he touched you like this, so delicately and with such purpose. His eyes were a storm, barely giving you anything to go on outside of the intensity, and it was all you could do to let out a shaky breath as he dropped his hand but stepped a little closer.

“I’m going to need you to give me a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Seth said, barely more than a murmur, edge of his voice a little rough, “What do you mean?”

“I purposely date guys that are nothing like you…because you’ve had my heart for longer than I care to remember. I never thought you could ever be interested in me because of the girls you date, and the thought of dating someone even a little bit similar to you was heartbreaking, so I just…went for the complete opposite. Clearly it’s been working out really well,” you said, choking off a bitter laugh as you finished.

Seth’s lips parted in surprise, and for once he was stunned into silence. It was only the fact that he hadn’t moved to step away that saved you from wanting to curl into a ball on the cold ground. Still, that didn’t stop the anguish from building inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.

Eventually he let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” he said softly, shaking his head.

What?

“We…have?” you asked, still in disbelief.

“We have.” Seth nodded, smiling at you in a way that encouraged you to finally smile back at him, giddy without being able to stop yourself, “You’re my goddamned soulmate, how could I ever want anyone but you? And knowing now that you’ve felt the same way all this time? It’s everything. I wish I could say I’ve been playing the long game but honestly I never thought you’d ever want me back. But we need to put a pin in this conversation until tomorrow.”

What? Why?

You didn’t know what was showing on your face but it made Seth laugh – a little deliriously, maybe, but a bright laugh that you were so used to all the same.

“You’ve been drinking, sweetheart. You’ve literally just ended a bad date covered in beer, as well as had quite an emotional night,” Seth explained.

“That still won’t change how I feel about you in the morning,” you pointed out.

His smile turned a little bashful, but definitely pleased, making the butterflies in your stomach riot.

“Then I look forward to hearing you say it again tomorrow. Just…let me take you home? Away from this gritty old bar parking lot?”

You nodded without hesitation, making him huff out a laugh again but take your hands.

“Take me home, Seth,” you murmured, squeezing his hands, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth.

With Seth’s wide grin, it looked like he could barely believe it either.

“We’re going to be amazing, you just wait.”

#my writing #seth jarvis fic #luck of the puck exchange #seth jarvis fanfic #seth jarvis imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic

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senditcolton · 7 months

Text

If You Want It Done

summary: after a disappointing playoff loss, brady reappears on your doorstep eight months after he ended things. and he has nothing on his mind but taking out his frustrations by having you desperate and keening for him once again. however, you aren't about to submit without a fight.

song inspo: NFWB by Hozier & Rats by Motionless in White word count: 5.1k warnings: feminine reader. smut! hair pulling, fingering, unprotected penetration, spanking, slight choking, oral (m receiving), and - as always - a healthy amount of dirty talk. plus somewhat toxic and insanely cocky brady.

a/n: no tricks here. just a sweet treat in the form of long- awaited Brady Skjei smut. technically it's a continuation of this blurb, but i just combined the original and the addition into one fic for you all. enjoy and happy halloween.

Sadness. Humiliation. Shame.

Those should be the emotions running through Brady as the plane lands back in Carolina after Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Because he wasn’t back ready to fight for another win. He was here to pack his bags and go home.

The best team in the Metro. Swept. By a wild card team who barely made the playoffs.

It was a disaster, an embarrassment. And Brady should feel the heavy weight of that failure, even if he might only be responsible for one-nineteenth of the blame. Or, at least, he should feel the waves of sadness crashing over him about the way it ended, or the mere fact that it did end.

But he didn’t. Perhaps he had earlier, when that final buzzer sounded and the fans in South Florida cheered. But now, having sat with those feelings for the better part of 24 hours, he was no longer sad.

He was angry.

And so, when the wheels touched down in Raleigh and he collected his car, he didn’t drive home.

Instead, he drove to yours.

A tired sigh leaves you as you pull up to your quaint cottage-style home. A long work week was cause for an even longer relaxing weekend and you were ready to start that weekend by getting inside and having a long nap. Or a strong drink. Or perhaps both.

However, after hopping out of your car and wandering up the small path that leads to your front door, your plans placed on a momentary hold when you see someone leaning against your siding, their baseball cap pulled low.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you call out, ready for this stranger to flash you an award-winning smile and tell you all about how their company could save you money on roofing repairs after last week’s storm.

But when their head lifts, you stop in your tracks as you recognize the face staring back at you.

Hell, you used to wake up to it every morning for eight months. Until he ended things.

“Brady.”

His name falls from your mouth in complete practiced apathy. You didn’t need him to know how much time you spent crying over him in the last month. You especially didn’t need him to know how your heart still skipped a beat when his eyes connected to yours.

“Did you see the game?” he asks.

“I heard.”

“And?”

“And what? Do you want to cry for you?”

There’s a humorless chuckle that comes from Brady as his head falls before he takes a step towards you.

“You always knew how to make me feel better,” he says, the sarcasm lacing his voice. And when you hear it, that dry scathing tone, you realize that you didn’t recognize the man in front of you.

Brady was always soft, gentle, welcoming. It made the dichotomy between you even more obvious; you all sharp edges and harsh words and burning fire. It was part of the reason the two of you broke up.

But this Brady… there was something different. Something dangerous. it intrigued you. But not enough for you to give in.

“I’m not going to coddle you, Brady. You should know that by now.”

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“What do you want then?” you ask, finally taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and your front door. “You want my pity? You want me to say ‘poor you, poor Brady’?”

It’s your turn to let a scoff fall from your lips as you reach into your bag for your keys, Brady now behind you.

“If you wanted someone to feel sorry for you, you came to the wrong fucking house,” you explain, unlocking the door.

Before you can even reach the handle, you feel Brady step forward, his hands falling on your hips as his body crowds you into the smooth wood. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm your heart but it doesn’t help because when you breathe in, your senses are filled with the smell of his cologne. A smell so familiar. One you missed.

Brady moves closer, his body almost pinning you to the door and you can’t stop your knees from trembling as you feel the heat of him behind you.

“I came here because I missed you,” he whispers into your ear.

“And it took you getting your ass kicked to realize that?” you shoot back. Although, the waver in your voice betrays you, revealing how much your body was responding to him; his touch, his words, his warmth. Brady just lets his previous sentence continue, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“And because I know you missed me just as much.”

You couldn’t let him do this – let him come crawling back to you when he was broken or bored. You no longer belonged to him. It was a recipe for disaster.

“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not one of those girls that would fall on their knees for you.”

“You seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me when we were together.”

“And we’re not together anymore. So, find someone else to fuck your frustrations out on.”

“Is that what you did?”

“None of your business.”

You feel his grip on your hips tighten and you barely have time to react as he effortlessly spins your body until your back is pressed against the wood of the door, your eyes now looking up at him.

“You’re lying.”

Brady almost spits out the words, as if even the barest suggestion that what you said was true was poison to him. Your eyes follow the movement in his temple, the clenching of his jaw, the storm in his eyes. This wasn’t the side of Brady that you knew.

But it was a side that you were always curious to discover. Throughout those eight months, you wanted to know if Brady had that same fire hiding within him – a passion and intensity that could match yours. And now, you could finally see it peeking through.

You wanted it to come out completely.

“And you can tell?” you ask, wielding your words with edge and precision. “Does that make you feel worse? If I told you about all the other men that ended up in my bed?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I wouldn’t? Are you sure? You knew what you giving up when you left. Can’t blame me for moving on.”

“You wouldn’t,” Brady repeats, one hand falling away and you barely have time to comprehend where it had gone when you feel the steady weight of the door fall away from you.

Your body lurches back, the momentum pulling you until it is abruptly stopped by Brady’s strong arms, pulling you close and lifting you over the threshold. Your feet find the hardwood of your floors before Brady is spinning you again and you find yourself pressed against the door once more, this time inside your house instead of without.

“You wouldn’t,” he reiterates, “because no one could make you feel as good as I did.”

You hear the deadbolt click, the sound causing the heat pool in your stomach. Brady’s hand moves back to your hip, pulling you close again as he leans in until your lips are barely touching. It’s intoxicating, having him this close to you once again. You are about to surge forward, connect your lips to his, let your fire burn with his. Until Brady speaks again.

“No one could make you feel as good as I’m about to.”

That statement pulls all rationality from you and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you, crashing your lips onto his. Brady returns the kiss with as much intensity, his hands gripping you tighter while yours move to trace over his arms, his broad shoulders before tangling into that salt-and-pepper hair. The kiss is frantic, all teeth and tongues and it takes a moment before Brady finally pulls away, connecting those brown eyes to your own

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”

The words cut right through you; as a threat or a promise, you weren’t really sure. But the instant that Brady crashes his lips back into yours, you find that you don’t care.

God, you missed this. You would be lying if you didn’t spend many restless nights reminiscing on how his hands felt on your body. How his lips felt on your skin.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. The words would never leave your mouth, not while Brady is standing in front of you. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. At least, not yet.

Instead, you get lost in Brady’s kisses, your hands coming to tangle deeper in his hair, pulling him closer to you as your hips roll up to meet his. You think you can hear a dark chuckle rumble from Brady and vibrate directly into your body, sending sparks of electricity flowing through you. His hands roam across your body, up from your hips to the soft material of your blouse before landing on your breasts, giving them a squeeze, causing your head to fall back.

“Missed these perfect tits,” he mumbles, his movements against your chest continuing in response to the soft moan falling from your mouth. Your moan turns into a sharp gasp as Brady grips the center of your shirt and tears it open. The sound of the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor floods your ears and it inexplicably turns you on even more.

If this was any other man, you would be pissed off at him for ruining your one of your favorite shirts. But this was Brady. A new Brady.

In those eight months you were with him, he was nothing but a gentleman, both outside and inside the bedroom. And he was more than satisfactory. But you knew there had to be something underneath all that charm. An untamed animal just waiting to be unchained.

And if this was the key to its cage, you weren’t about to stop everything to cry over a few buttons. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain at all.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” you mutter against Brady’s lips. Brady swiftly removes his mouth from yours as he looks down at your newly exposed bra.

“Gonna buy you something new to wear under it,” comes his response as his thumbs trace over the edge of the plain nude material and this time, you can stop your eyes from rolling in annoyance.

“Do you really think I wear lingerie to work?” you quip, staring up at him.

You can see his eyes harden and it is in that moment that you realize he was enjoying this. The chase, the tease, the dare, the push and pull between the two of you.

“If you don’t like it,” you continue, your voice taking on a sultry tone as you continue to meet his dark brown eyes, “then take it off.”

The quick sparkle that appears in his brown eyes makes you think that he has taken the bait, that you might have gained some control over the situation at hand – a situation that you were wholly unprepared for but welcomed none the less. And when Brady leans back in to lock you lips together once again, his hands wandering around your ribcage towards your back, the confidence grows.

However, it takes a sharp plummet when you feel his hands drop from your frame. If Brady had given you a split second longer, you would have broken the kiss to question or quip him again. But you have barely any time to miss the sensation of his hands on your skin before you feel them grip the back of your thighs as Brady uses his athletic strength to effortlessly lift you off the floor.

You gasp, a gasp that Brady gladly swallows before he spins, tearing his lips away from yours to look around your house. There is a part of you that wants to tell him nothing has changed from the last time he was there – the furniture is the same, your bedroom is still two doors down on the left – but your lips have already busied themselves marking the smooth skin on his neck.

There was also a power in your decisions; forcing him to find his way through your space all while doing your best to distract him. And it seems to be working as you feel Brady’s pulse shudder underneath your mouth.

You feel him take a lurching turn right and a slight flash of confusion runs through you until you feel his body lowering. The soft material of your couch hits your knees and the skirt you had on flows out around you as you now straddle Brady.

“Forgot where the bedroom was?” you chirp into his neck, feeling his desperate hands return to your torso as he removes the tattered remains of your blouse from your waistband.

It seems that it takes a minute for your words to register but when they do, Brady’s hand lifts to tangle in your hair. Another gasp escapes from your chest as his fingers tighten before pulling your head away from his neck. He quickly reverses the roles, his own lips moving to your newly exposed throat, your breath transforming from gasps to soft sighs as his mouth works against your skin.

“Who says I’m not going to take you there after I’m done here?”

“Who says I would let you back into my bed anyway?” you retort to keep some semblance of control.

Your pathetic attempt is clearly read by Brady, who makes you falter once again as the hand not tangled in your hair effortlessly unclasps your bra. His lips depart from your neck as he helps slide the material down your arms, throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room. You both hate and love the smirk that appears on his face as he takes in your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples. His dark eyes dart back up to you briefly before he is tugging you into him for another animalistic kiss.

“Seems that you like it so far,” he whispers into your open mouth before he pulls away again, lifting your body upright and pulling you closer. “I’ll take my chances.”

You wish that you could say something back, something to knock his arrogant confidence down a peg but your mind goes blank as his lips move to your collarbone, leaving faint hickeys against the taut skin before moving down to your chest. His lips close around one of your nipples, tongue moving to tease the sensitive peak as his hands rest on your ribcage, his thumbs running across the delicate skin on the underside of your breasts. Your hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him close and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. The action both turns you on and pisses you off, a combination that you weren’t sure could even work until now.

You fly into action, hands moving down to grip the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, tugging at the material and pulling it upward before he finally breaks away to help you remove the shirt entirely, tossing it away to join your clothes on the living room floor.

His lips return to your chest, moving to leave no skin unmarred with his love bites as your hands drop to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle in silent encouragement. Brady’s hands lower before coming to grip your ass and you gasp as he pulls you forward, the action causing your hips to roll. You both let out moans at the sensation of you grinding against him and it turns you on more to feel his erection against your core.

“And here I thought I was the masochist,” you joke, moving your hips of your own volition, pressing deeper into him. The grunt that your actions pull from his chest has you grinning. “Who’d know you get this hard from getting your ass kicked?”

You must’ve struck a nerve, prodded at the memory he came here to forget, because the only thing you hear in response is what could best be described as a growl before he lifts you off of his lap enough to slip out from underneath you. Your brain recognizes the weight of his body disappearing from the couch and you attempt to turn, just to keep your eyes locked on him but Brady doesn’t give you a chance.

His large hand finds the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward, your torso falling until your chest meets the back cushions. You can’t stop the gasp that falls, your arms lifting over the edge of the couch as your back arches, your hips pressing back towards Brady now looming behind you.

A dark chuckle echoes throughout the room in response to your actions as he pulls the material of your skirt over your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even bother removing your underwear, instead choosing to move it to the side before he slips two fingers into your already soaked core.

You let out a moan, your head falling forward as Brady’s hand moves, winding you up and my God, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the feeling. His thumb quickly finds your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you can’t stop the way your body responds to his movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “You have no right to that attitude when you’re this fucking desperate for me.”

He emphasizes his words with a curl of his fingers, the tips grazing your g-spot and the combined sensation of his hands skillfully moving against you almost has you falling over the edge. Brady doesn’t give you your satisfaction that easily though as he removes his fingers from your core. You whimper at the loss, listening intently to Brady’s movements behind you, impatient to feel him once more.

Brady doesn’t leave you wanting for long as you hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and before you can blink, you feel his hands practically tear your panties down your legs before he enters you in one swift, harsh motion.

The moans that you both let out are delicious and desperate. You whine as you move your hips back, pushing him impossibly deeper. Brady groans, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, gripping you tight before he begins to move.

“Oh god,” you moan out as Brady fucks into you with quick hard thrusts, showing no mercy, your ass rippling every time it meets his hips. You are grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, helping to support your upper body as your fingers dig into the fabric so deeply that an irrational part of you worries you might tear it.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me,” Brady replies, his movements barely faltering. “Come on, say my name.”

You wish you could tell him to fuck off, make a quip about his cocky attitude but your mouth doesn’t seem able to form the words or any words for that matter. The only thing you want is for him to continue. A sharp smack against your ass jolts your body forward and your head whips around in surprise, eyes connecting to Brady.

“Say. My. Name,” he repeats, now more command than anything else, every word punctuated by another spank and you are helpless to comply.

“Brady,” you whine, your desperation painted on every letter, your eyes staying locked on him, drinking in his reaction. He groans, his teeth coming to bite his lower lip, his gaze dropping from your face to connect to where his cock disappears into your pussy.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.”

His quiet encouragement is all you need to continue moaning his name over and over. One of his hands falls from your hips to join yours in gripping the back of the couch, his body now completely covering yours, the new leverage only increasing the strength in which Brady thrusts into you. Your head falls to rest against the back cushion, the sounds of your staccato whimpers and breathy curses filling the living room along with the continuous depraved slapping of skin against skin.

You whine as you feel his hand disappear from your hip and slowly trace up your body, the softness of his touch a sharp contrast. The gentleness doesn’t last long and your whine turns into a gasp as Brady’s large hand wraps around your throat, pulling your head upwards.

“Keep saying my name,” he says, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“You are, Brady.”

“Yeah? Can anyone else fuck you like I can?”

“No. Only you.”

“That’s right. Only me,” he growls in satisfaction, emphasizing his words with his rhythm.

“Fuck, Brady, please,” you plead, your voice strained from how much focus it took to pry the words from your mouth. “I’m close.”

“Well then, come on sweetheart. Touch yourself. Remind me how good it feels when you cum on my cock.”

The speed in which your hand falls is reckless, frantic to get that additional pressure that you were craving. As soon as your fingers press against your clit, your head falls back against Brady’s shoulder in relief. His praise is muffled against your skin as he peppers your shoulder with kisses, only interrupted by quiet curses as he feels your core flutter.

It is hot, so unbelievably hot – how he’s fucking you, how he’s holding you – that it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall over the precipice, your own hand faltering against you as your orgasm rocks through your body. A groan falls from Brady as he feels you clench around him; a groan that he muffles by sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the additional sensation causing you to moan louder, hips rocking back against him as his motions halt.

The haze that pricked at the corner of your eyes slowly dissipates and you can feel Brady’s hand fall from your neck. The cool air cascades over your back as Brady lifts himself away from you causing goosebumps to appear. A small whimper escapes when you feel him remove himself from your core and steps away. The submissive part of your mind, still in control, panics in fear that he might leave. But the concern is short lived as Brady sits down next to you, pulling you back into his lap.

He wastes no time capturing you in another kiss, stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. Brady attempts to break the kiss but you don’t let him, hands lifting to cup his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. He doesn’t resist and allows you to continue to kiss him, his own arms wrapping around your body.

Eventually your hands move, trailing down his throat, dancing over his chest and you smile against his lips as you feel his abs tighten in response to your fingers sinking lower until they finally reach the desired destination.

You gently take his still hard length in your hand and stroke him a few times, which was easy to do with your prior release clinging to the silky-smooth skin. You grin as you feel the vibrations of Brady’s soft moan in response to your ministrations. The cloud of your orgasm had lifted and, in its absence, your own confidence returned.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” you question, only moving far enough away to ask, your lips brushing against his occasionally. Brady doesn’t respond; you knew he wouldn’t. He had worked too hard to give up the dominance he held over you so easily. But you weren’t deterred.

You kiss him deeply one more time before your lips follow the path your hands previously traced: down his throat, over his collarbones, across his chest. An occasional moan and curse fall from Brady as you continue your descent and you grin, knowing that his resolve was slowly cracking. Your body moves, shuffling from being perched on top of his lap to kneel on the plush carpet between his thighs. Brady’s eyes are needy when your own eyes dart up to meet his stare. Your hand strokes him again but you make no attempt to put your mouth on him, the dare hanging clearly in the air.

“Baby, please,” Brady finally speaks, his hips punching upwards.

“Who’s fucking desperate now?” you quip, unable to contain your excitement at regaining the upper hand. Your jaw drops open in surprise as Brady’s hand darts out, grabbing your neck once more, his eyes growing dark.

“You want to repeat that sweetheart?” he asks, that dominant energy rolling off him again. Except this time, it doesn’t make you back down. Instead, it just spurs you on, that heat and elation as it returns – the battle, the chase. Your dropped jaw just morphs into a wicked grin and you are ecstatic to see a similar smirk twist onto Brady’s lips; a quiet confirmation that he was still enjoying the newfound push and pull between you two.

“Come on Brady. Admit it. You are just as desperate for me as I am for you,” you explain, your voice dipping again into your lower sultry timbre. “Tell me, do any of those other girls have a mouth like mine?”

You flatten your tongue against his shaft and lick a bold stripe up his length before moving your lips to leave a lingering teasing kiss on the head. Brady groans, his head falling back as his hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer in an attempt for you to fully wrap your lips around him.

“No one can fuck me like you can?” you continue, hand wrapping around his cock. “Well, you’ll never find someone who can give better head than I can.”

You don’t give him any chance to respond as you surge forward, finally taking him into your wet mouth. Your tongue traces every vein that you could feel as your hand moves against the rest of him. Brady’s moans sounding from above fuel you and you continue to work your sinful magic against his skin.

It may have been months since you two were in this particular position but you feel like a part of you will remember everything about Brady, including all the spots that make him groan and twitch and throb. Your lips move to suck on the tip, teasing the area where the head meets the shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck,” Brady curses, his hips jumping causing his cock to thrust into your mouth. You gag a little before withdrawing – not completely but only enough to catch your breath. Your eyes dart to his and find that he is already staring at you, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. The moan you release at the sight vibrates around Brady causing an identical moan to escape him. You inhale deeply before lowering your head, relaxing your throat until the entirety of his cock is nestled in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his fingers twisting in your hair. You move, shallowly bobbing your head as you feel him pulse against your tongue, a tell-tale sign he was getting close. The assumption was only confirmed by the next word Brady spoke. “Fuck, baby, gonna cum.”

You pull your mouth from him, replacing it quickly with your hand and continuing the pace you had set.

“I won’t waste a drop,” you say, keeping your eyes locked to his as you wrap your lips around him once again, your hands moving to the side his thighs and pressing your fingertips up into them. Brady understands your silent request, hand once again tightening in your hair as he moves his hips upward, taking control.

“Yeah? You going to swallow it all like a good girl?”

You nod your head, keeping your mouth open and accepting everything he gives, moaning against his skin as he increases his pace. It’s only a few more moments before Brady throws his head back against the couch cushions, a long groan emulating from his chest as his own orgasm hits. You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you greedily pull him deeper, determined to keep your word.

You let Brady collect himself and take a few deep breaths before you slowly raise your head, sliding off of his cock. You wait until his eyes connect to yours before you swallow, releasing a satisfied exhale afterwards. You can’t help but make a show of it, licking your lips before opening your mouth to show him that you indeed didn’t let anything go to waste.

Brady grins, a smile which you quickly mirror before his hands are on your body, hauling you off the floor and back into his lap. Your lips connect and you sigh, savoring the euphoric glow that surrounded the two of you. The two of you continue to make out for a few minutes, relaxing before you pull away, looking down at Brady.

“D’you feel better?” you joke, the remembrance of why he came to your house in the first place – and what it all meant now – nagging in the back of your mind. You aren’t sure if you can see sadness lingering on the corners of Brady’s smile as his hand runs soothing circles across your spine.

“A little.”

“Need anything else?”

“Maybe a shower,” he replies, looking up at you with those brown eyes that always made you weak. A sparkle that spells nothing but trouble for you flashes in his irises as his smile turns into a wicked smirk. “And perhaps a round two, starting with my head buried between your thighs.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” you breathlessly chuckle, your head shaking in playful disbelief as your tear your gaze from his.

“I just know what I want.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

His quiet declaration has your head turning back to him, connecting your eyes once again. The emotions displayed in his own stare are unfathomable and you know that this isn’t the place to attempt to decipher them. You don’t have time to unwind and unravel the mess that defined you and Brady’s connection: your prior relationship, the subsequent break-up, and everything that happened today.

So, instead, you gently climb from Brady’s lap, standing upright before stretching out your hand towards him. He accepts your offer and you help lift him off the sofa before dragging him down the hallway to the second door on the left, back into your bed.

Like he always belonged there.

Like he never left.

tagging the skjei-sy sluts (affectionate) who asked for a continuation + a few others I think would appreciate this: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @cellythefloshie @comphy-and-cozy @laurenairay

#nicole writes #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine #brady skjei smut #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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heartsandhischier · 2 months

Text

Breaking the ice

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 1.2k words. Y/N and Andrei are about to make their first public appearance of their faux relationship part 2 of The Pretend Play

author's note - omd I've already outlined this series to a 10 part series... getting a bit too caught up in this Russian man

warnings - none i think

It was the night of Andrei’s crucial playoff game. The chilly evening air did nothing to cool the simmering tension between Andrei and Y/N as they made their way to the bustling arena. It was their first public outing together since the arranging of their faux relationship. Y/N, despite her visible discomfort, wore Andrei's jersey, the number 37 standing out boldly against the fabric, a symbol of her reluctant role in this charade.

In the car, the atmosphere had been thick with their mutual resentment, their conversation peppered with barbed comments and thinly veiled annoyance. "So, how many hours of my life am I sacrificing to the gods of ice tonight?" Y/N had asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm, her eyes rolling so hard Andrei thought they might get stuck that way.

"Hockey games have three periods, each 20 minutes long, but with breaks and potential overtime, who knows? Could be your whole night," Andrei replied dryly, his focus on the road but his mind racing with the implications of their public debut.

"And it's going to be cold, right? I mean, it's an ice rink. Couldn't you play a sport in a more comfortable climate?" Y/N continued, her complaints a verbal manifestation of her reluctance to be part of this spectacle.

"It's not the Arctic, Y/N. You'll survive. Besides, you're wearing my jersey. Consider it a... personal heater," Andrei shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could have been the start of a smile under different circumstances. "You might actually enjoy it if you stopped complaining for a minute."

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over the jersey that draped loosely over her frame. "Oh, please, like I'm really going to understand anything that's happening. I just don't get why I have to be there if I don't even follow the sport."

"Because you're supposed to be 'the supportive girlfriend,'" Andrei said, emphasizing the last two words with air quotes, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to the road.

The bickering had ebbed as they neared the arena, replaced by a tense silence that spoke volumes of their current state of affairs. They were two individuals tied together by circumstance and necessity, each bearing the weight of their roles with a mix of disdain and resignation.

As they stepped out of the car and into the view of waiting cameras and eager fans, Andrei could feel Y/N stiffen beside him. He offered his arm, a gesture meant for the watching eyes, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, her grip on his arm surprisingly firm.

The flash of cameras and the murmur of the crowd greeted them as they made their way inside, their smiles practiced and their steps measured. "Remember, just smile and wave. Stick to the script, and we'll get through this," Andrei murmured to Y/N, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Script? I wasn't aware there was a script for pretending to enjoy watching people chase a puck on ice," Y/N whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of humor and bitterness.

As they approached the grand entrance, Andrei leaned in, his voice low but firm. “Hold my hand,” he instructed, a blend of request and command. Y/N’s initial reaction was one of surprise, her brows knitting together in confusion. Yet, his rationale, whispered in a hurried breath – “You wanted me to step up, right? ‘If we’re going to sell this lie?” – prompted a reluctant compliance. With a soft sigh, she placed her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

The red carpet that adorned the arena’s entrance was a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, the fans’ excitement mirrored by the curiosity swirling around Andrei and Y/N’s relationship. Despite the turmoil of emotions beneath the surface, they navigated with grace, their smiles carefully curated masks worn for the world to see.

As they pause for photographs, the press urges them for a display of affection, keen to capture a moment that would headline the next day's gossip columns. Feeling the weight of expectation on her shoulders, Y/N turns to Andrei, whispering a challenge masked as a flirtation. "Let's see if you're as good at hockey as you're at kissing," she says.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Y/N bridged the gap between them, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was a bold move, surprising Andrei. The cameras flash frantically, capturing the moment from every angle. The kiss, though and part of their act, sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd, and for a moment, blurs the lines between their public facade and private discomfort.

Andrei, caught off guard by Y/N's audacity, can't help but respond to the kiss with a genuine spark of admiration for her boldness. As they part, he looks down at her, a new sense of respect mingling with the complex web of emotions he harbors towards her. The crowd cheers, delighted by the display, and for a fleeting second, Andrei forgets the world watching them.

Following this electrifying prelude, Y/N was ushered to her seat by Andrei's PR manager, ensuring her smooth transition through the still-buzzing crowd. The arena was alive with anticipation, the energy of the fans a pulsating backdrop to the unfolding drama on the ice.

The match was a nail-biter, the Hurricanes and the Flyers locked in a dance of skill, strategy, and sheer will. Andrei's focus was laser-sharp, undeniably influenced by the presence of Y/N in the stand. Her support, whether real or part of their elaborate ruse, fueled his determination.

When Andrei scored, the arena erupted into cheers and applause, a wave of collective joy sweeping through the crowd. Y/N was on her feet, cheering along with the masses, her earlier doubts and pretense of their situation momentarily forgotten in the genuine thrill of the moment. Their eyes met across teh distance, a silent exchange that carried the weight of words and emotions.

The jumbotron, ever watchful, captured Y/n’s animated reaction, her image filling the screen for all to see. Andrei, glancing up at the replay, was struck by the sight of her genuine smile – a smile he realised he had never truly seen until this moment. The sight of her, so vibrant and unrestrained in her joy, sent an unexpected flutter through his heart, a momentary skip in its rhythm that he couldnt quite comprehend.

As the finals buzzer sounds, signalling a hard-fought victory for the Hurricanes. The atmosphere became electric. Andrei was soon engulfed by his teammates, their shared euphoria palpable in their jubilant celebration. Yet, amidst the chaos of victory, andrei’s thoughts lingered on Y/N. as the team commenced their victory lap, he sought her out in the crowd, their eyes meeting once more. For a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the arena, her smile is genuine, her applause enthusiastic.

After the game, Andrei finds Y/N waiting for him outside the locker room. The game had transformed the awkwardness of their initial interactions into something more fluid. “You’re pretty good at this thing,” Y/N quipped, her tone light, teasing, yet underscored with a hint of admiration.

Andrei, still riding the wave of adrenaline and unexpected sentimentality, responded with genuine humility. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that reflected his gratitude.

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice,” her playful retort was met with laughter from them both, a spontaneous moment of unity that felt strangely right.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #canes fanfic #canes fanfiction #carolina hurricanes fanfic #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #andrei svechnikov x y/n

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goodnightoilcountry · 21 days

Text

don't overthink when you could be loving me - sebastian aho

summary: Your inadvertent friendship with some of the Canes players was not something you advertized in your day-to-day life. But an evening of Friday night drinks changes that when you find yourself trapped in the same bar with your co-workers and one love-struck Sebastian Aho who’s determined to make it known that you’re spoken for… well, tentatively that is.

word count: 6.2k

author's note: one month in the making and i'm not even convinced that this is of any quality. but if i don't put it out now, i never will. i'm going to do another proofread but don't worry, if there are going to be any edits, it'll just be fixing up typos / grammar.

tag list: @kashee-h

You won’t lie. You weren’t always the biggest believer in keeping your personal life and work life separate.

Despite the numerous warnings about how “your colleagues are not your friends”, you couldn’t help but merge the two words into a synonymous figure. By this point in your life, you could probably ballpark that half of your closest friends were acquired from the various roles you were appointed. You’ve always felt like you’ve lucked out in that department.

The moment when your luck seemed to wear out was at your very first grad role.

With a newly minted finance degree in one hand and just about $50,000 in the other, the bar wasn’t set particularly high in terms of quality for a grad role. So when you received the congratulatory phone call from human resources, you didn’t care about the questionably low pay or how weirdly vague your interviewers were about overtime practices, you were just happy to finally have something substantial splashed across your resume.

Your first month wasn’t anything to write home about. As expected, everyone was cordial, you were given grunt work, and you would routinely eat tune rice and veg for lunch - something that was weirdly unique to the corporate world.

Where the comfort flipped was the night that the firm hosted its annual Thank You Dinner. What was announced as a company event hosted by the executives to say thank you to its employees for their efforts was actually disguised as a night of debauchery at the expense of the firm’s bottom line - but you didn’t know that yet.

So when a passing comment about the Canes turns into a full-blown conversation piece at your table, your wine-induced lips couldn’t help but let something slip.

It’s not like you ran around advertising the fact that you were family friends with Seth Jarvis growing up. But hockey culture was thriving in Raleigh and moments where a mention of the Canes wasn’t thrown into the mix rarely occurred.

More often than not, you were happy to pass on any unused tickets that Seth had reserved in your name every year. Of course, generally, nobody questions where the tickets came from the first time around - free tickets are free tickets. But by the fourth round? Who would still believe that you just accidentally purchased lower-bowl seats not knowing you already had plans?

You would eventually let up that maybe you were better acquainted with the Canes than on just a last-name and number basis. And the reactions that followed usually panned out the same way. You’d receive looks that crossed between amazement and disbelief, followed by thirty minutes of inquisitioning, and then the excitement of the news would eventually fade before moving on to something salacious that had happened earlier that week.

But the news of your affiliation that night was volatile.

Suddenly, your tickets weren’t viewed as a generous offering but rather as a right. People in different departments whom you had never met started taking you out for lunches with a casual mention of how they hadn’t ever been to a live game; your boss expected you to give them up for the sake of appeasing potential clients; girls would invite you out with the hopes of them showing up to wherever you were.

You handed in your resignation six months later.

So when you signed your letter of offer for your new role, you made a silent promise to yourself to keep that portion of your life separate. So, you distanced yourself.

Seth had noticed. He had known that you would occasionally give up your tickets when you knew you weren’t able to make a game. But as more and more weeks had passed, he had maybe seen your seats filled twice: once by a few of your closest girlfriends and the other was when your parents had come to town for a long weekend.

Outings with him and the team became infrequent as you declined to attend any sort of public event that would bear the risk of you being caught out by your new colleagues. And when you were eventually questioned why, you simply excused that your new job had you locked down.

The second person to notice your increasing absence was Sebastian.

Since Seth’s rookie days, you had been, on more than several occasions, his plus one to team events. And over the years, you had gotten to know some of the younger members who were able to keep up with Seth’s redbull-fueled energy. That included Sebastian.

The first time you had actually properly spoken to him was at a Canes charity gala. Seth and KK had been swept into a conversation by a few board members, leaving you to quietly people-watch from your assigned seat.

****

“Refill?”

You turned to find Sebastian with an arm extended out; a glass of champagne delicately sat between his fingers. You returned a grateful smile as he sat down in Seth’s seat.

“You manage to avoid the noise fest?” you lightly poked, looking over at Seth where Andrei and Jack were now caught.

He let out a laugh and shook his head while looking down, “I’ve definitely done my fair share of the sucking up.”

“You didn’t feel like joining your boyfriend?”

You choked on your drink as soon as the assumption left his mouth. You couldn’t help but begin laughing as you coughed up a response, “Oh my god, no. Seth and I grew up together back home. Our parents were close friends.”

His cheeks flushed red at the revelation.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed because you’ve come to a few of these things with him before and you’re at our games a lot,” he tried to reason as he rubbed the back of his neck to ease the embarrassment.

You shook your head with the same amused donned across your face, “he’s really never mentioned that we grew together as kids?”

“I’m sure he’s mentioned it but it’s hard to catch everything he says. He talks… a lot.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the blunt statement.

You had found it easy to talk to Sebastian. The conversation flowed seamlessly, from the standard questioning of each other’s jobs to the shared ache of missing home. Before you knew it, Seth had returned with a sheepish look on his face; apologetic for his disappearance but not missing the flash of disappointment across his teammate’s face when you said goodnight.

After that, the trajectory of your relationship with Sebastian had shifted into something more. Sure, you both became closer as friends, growing comfortable in the presence of one another. But as time went on you couldn’t help but feel like the line between you two would occasionally go hazy; blurring completely on a night out following a hard-fought win.

****

Every summer that comes around reminds you of how incomprehensible the energy can be in Raleigh.

The city came alive as holidayers passed through, the nights drew out longer, and the cool drinks were more than welcome from people who were looking to escape the heat. Which is how you found yourself sitting at a beer hall three blocks from your office in downtown Raleigh.

Unsurprisingly, the bar was packed on a Friday evening and you could only expect it to ramp up even more when your eyes fell on the sight of a band setting up stage for the night.

“Here, grab these first and I’ll bring over the rest.”

Maddy slides over 3 glasses to you and pulls out her card to start a tab for the table. You met Maddy on your first day when you were doing the round with HR. They had introduced her as your “office buddy”, to which Maddy later rolled her eyes at and reassured you that she wouldn’t be as micro-managing as they had made it out to be.

She took you to lunch and gave you her version of the onboarding special which basically involved giving you the run down of who you didn’t want to piss off if you ever wanted to be promoted.

It wasn’t long before you both became each other’s go-to person at work when things went to shit and sometimes the occasional debrief session at Thursday wines where she updated you about how her dating life was tracking.

You pull together the glasses and place them into a firm grasp between your hands before turning around to make a beeline for the table with Maddy trailing behind you. There are a few familiar faces from your team and some that you don’t think you’ve ever met before but you know that Maddy is a big fan of getting into the good graces of other departments.

Your phone screen lights up before you can even take a sip from the glass causing you to divert your attention.

Last weekend before we’re due back for pre-season training. Come out with us tonight? - Jarvy

You feel a pang of guilt with the sudden reminder that Seth just unintentionally gave you.

Your MIA-ness had begun a month before the playoffs started. Granted you still followed every game from the comfort of your home, but your continued in-person absence did not go unnoticed. Even more so after the 4-0 Conference Finals loss to the Panthers, where Sebastian wanted nothing more than to feel the comfort of your presence to ease the heartbreak.

Instead, he had to settle for an “I’m sorry.” text.

And in your defence, you had tried to see him when they returned home but the timing was never quite right as Sebastian took off for Finland a few weeks later as a last-minute guest for his cousin’s wedding.

You were able to catch Seth a handful of times before he also took flight: Winnipeg for home, Chicago for Lollapalooza, and Cabo with KK and Svech from the look of his Instagram stories.

He waved away your apologies and said he understood that you were flat out with work and that he hoped you weren’t working yourself too hard. All you could do was return a meek smile and be thankful that he didn’t press about it further.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to rack your brain for an excuse that wouldn’t leave any room for further persuasion.

Sorry :( feeling too run down from the week. Next time though!

You take one more look at your phone as Seth sends you the ‘Boo, You Whore!’ gif from Mean Girls, causing you to crack a small smile.

“Better offer somewhere else?”

Your head snaps up and meets the eyes of one of the unfamiliar faces sitting across you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Charlie, I just joined the legal counsel,” he offers with a smile. And it’s a pretty damn good smile too.

You’re quickly swept up into a conversation with Charlie. You learn that he recently relocated from Boston, he has a labrador named Ollie, and that he’s heard of a fantastic restaurant down the road that he’s been “dying” to check out with someone. That last part is followed with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He’s not bad-looking, you’ll give him that much. Maybe a year ago he would have been your type. But lately, you’ve seemed to turn away from the sharp jawlines and blue eyes, and instead look for softer and warmer features with maybe a small scar carved into the bottom of their lip...

Wait, what?

You shake the thought out of your head and instead focus back on Charlie’s current story: some embarrassing run-in with your boss, on his first day.

You’re shaking from laughter at this point, “No way! Did she say anything to you later on?”

Charlie grins as he places his head in his hands, “Yeah, it was such a shame job. When I got my first official meeting with her, it was-”

You watch him trail off as his eyes dart to look at you. No, not at you. Behind you?

“Well, well, well. Feeling better, eh?”

You recognize that shit-eating tone anywhere.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath. You turn around and find Seth smirking down at you like he’s found a deer in the headlights.

“Must have been a pretty quick recovery considering you were sick only two hours ago,” he derides, sliding into the empty spot next to you. You’ve only just realized that your whole table is now empty besides you and Charlie. A quick whip around tells you that they’ve all moved to the nearby pool tables.

“Seth,” you say calmly, “what are you doing here?”

“I told you. Last weekend before practice starts.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even like it here. I’ve literally heard you call it the worst bar in the world,” you argue back.

Seth’s about to open his mouth for some quick retaliation but Charlie beats him to it.

“You’re Seth Jarvis,” he says. The look he gives is nothing short of bewilderment as he puts together that Seth Jarvis knows you.

“Hey man, how you doing? Always nice to meet a fan,” Seth nods with an outstretched hand to Charlie.

Charlie slowly shakes his hand, still reeling in from the newfound piece of information he’s just learned. “Oh, well I’m from Boston so not exactly a fan of you.”

Seriously? Who even says something like that?

You refuse to meet Seth’s side eye in an attempt to dodge the embarrassment you feel from Charlie’s unwarranted dig. He’s unsure how to respond to the hostility but the moment of awkwardness is cleared by a second voice appearing.

“Jarvy, Burnsie found a table outside - let’s go...”

Your head snaps towards the voice and you find Sebastian looking right back. He’s taken aback and stumbles on his words for a second but recomposes himself just as quickly.

“Hey, where have you b-,” he begins to step forward but falters as his eyes properly assess the scene before him. You and Charlie. Together. Alone.

“Oh. Are you in the middle of something?” he hesitates, flickering between you and Charlie; unsure of what to make of the situation.

Your eyes widen slightly before clearing your throat, “Oh, um no. This is Charlie. He recently moved to our office from Boston.”

God, you feel so small right now. Here you were, seeing Sebastian for the first time in months and you can’t even muster up the courage to properly say hello.

“Well, we’re gonna go back to our table. Find us at some point, yeah?”

Seth gives Charlie a final cautious look before he pats Sebastian on the back, guiding them both to a table on the veranda.

The rest of your group comes flooding back to the table having witnessed the sight unfold from afar. If Charlie keeps his mouth shut, surely you can play it off as a lucky fan interaction?

“Holy shit! Do you know who they were? Tell me you do because I will seriously freak if you tell me you don’t know,” Maddy furiously whispers with wide eyes.

“I don’t know, Maddy. Seemed like she’s more than well-acquainted by the look on Aho’s face,” Charlie said dryly, bringing a bottle to his lips with a raised eyebrow.

You’re a bit taken aback by his insinuation.

“Um, Seth and I grew up together back home,” you slowly let out, “it was just a coincidence that we both ended up in Raleigh.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’re friends with Seth Jarvis? Are you kidding me? You’ve only heard me talk about the Canes like a thousand times,” she gapes at you with an incredulous look.

Here we go.

The rest of your group wasn’t privy to your admission, being too caught up with the sight of the team being mere yards away from them.

“Look, I don’t know. I just don’t like using his name like that. It makes me feel gross.” you sigh, rubbing your arms.

“I’d just rather we drop it. Please?”

You shoot her a look to which Maddy softens; understanding that the topic has hit a bit of a sore spot for you.

“Okay yeah, of course. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

The mass intrigue of the boys’ presence soon dies off as people slowly realize that they’re about as interesting to watch drinking as the next table is. Conversations resume back to normal and you try your best to feign interest but the knowledge that he’s the closest that you guys have been in months won’t leave you alone.

So twenty more minutes pass by and you’re ready to throw in the towel. You’ve decided that you’ll deal with the situation another day - preferably when you can string together a proper sentence. After a quick goodbye and the promise of a home-safe text to Maddy, you gather your things and start making headway for the exit.

The weakness in you can’t help but take one final look at Sebastian before you step out for the night but he’s beaten you to it. His eyes are already fixed on you with the same look you had become all too familiar with.

****

Saturday night. Seth’s Birthday. Shut-out win over Vegas. No game scheduled until Wednesday.

Individually, they’re considered lawfully good events. Combined? It’s as if someone was testing to see if Carolina even knew the definition of chaos. And when have they ever backed down from a challenge?

You let out a huff of air as you fall back into the booth. You had finally managed to escape Seth and Jesperi from the dance floor. If there was ever a case to be made about the negative long-term effects of Redbull, those two were it.

“Oh my god, how were you even out there for that long?”

Martin’s girlfriend, Nykki, opens up her arm and lets you lean in. Her leather jacket is a cool contrast to your warm and flushed body.

“Don’t let them take me again,” you whine as the ache in your feet comes flooding in. She giggles and affectionately pats your head.

Your eyes skim over the crowd, taking count of where everyone was. Brady, Kuzy and Martin by the bar. Andrei, Jack and Pyotr occupied with a group of girls. Seth and Jesperi still unabashedly dancing but now sporting a pair of shades that you had a sneaky suspicion they found on the floor. As if your eyes knew before your brain, they’re scanning the room again to find what’s missing.

“He stepped away to the bathroom.”

Your eyes tear away from the crowd and you sit yourself up, pulling the closest drink to your lips to avoid the direction Nykki is heading.

“He was watching you all night, you know? Didn’t listen to a damn thing I said,” she nudges with a knowing smirk. You didn’t think it was possible for your face to heat up anymore. Your continued silence doesn’t deter Nykki though as she decides that she will get you to admit something that you’re not even sure you’re ready to admit to yourself.

“Why are you both dancing around this? It’s obvious that he likes you. And maybe you won’t ever admit it to me but I can tell that you like him,” Nykki softens, acutely aware that Sebastian could return to the booth at any moment.

“Do you…” you hesitate, swirling the remnants of your drink in the glass. “Do you ever feel like you’re too exposed sometimes?”

She furrows her brows, “What do you mean?”

“There’s this thing that happens, and maybe it’s not often but it happens, where people expect things just because of who you know.

And if it’s true for just simply being friends with Seth, will it be worse if you’re involved with them?”

“A hockey player definitely wasn’t my first choice,” she says after a moment. “And maybe I wish I knew what it would have meant to be with him.”

“But,” she quickly recovers, watching your expression fall, “I wouldn’t change anything. It’s not about the world that he can offer me like everyone thinks it is. It’s how he always shows up for me, even when he’s 3000 miles away. It’s those private moments that are enough to make me forget the world is watching us.”

You catch the glowing adoration that’s etched into her face when she gazes across the room, watching her boyfriend laughing with Brady. You’re so wrapped up in ruminating over Nykki’s words that you almost don’t feel the way the cushion sinks next to you.

“Are you done with that?”

Sebastian’s voice grounds you back to reality. “Oh, I am but I’ll get another soon.”

Before you can stop him, he slides back out of the booth again and flags down a bartender. And Nykki doesn’t take a beat to do the same, “I think I’ll join the others,” sending you a small wink.

Sebastian slides back in setting down three glasses, two for you and one for him. “I thought you’d want some water too. Jarvy didn’t look like he was going to let you leave at any point,” he offers with a smile.

You let out a laugh and shake your head, “The trick is to run the second he turns his back. Trust me, works every time.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Me? What about you? 3 assists and a goal? Surely that’s what we’re really celebrating tonight,” you whistle as you twirl the straw between your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he almost immediately shies up, turning away with the crack of a smile threatening to take over.

“I couldn’t have done it without the guys, they make all of it happen,” he notions.

You roll your eyes immediately, “I forget how well media-trained you guys are sometimes.”

“You should be able to enjoy your successes. It’s not about the other guys not being talented, it’s about being able to reflect on how far you’ve come. All of this is the culmination of your dedication, Sebastian. It’s important to remember that.”

The silence he returns suddenly fills you with regret. Did you say too much? Was it even your place to say anything at all? You need to backpeddle.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -” you sigh, pushing away your drink.

“No,” he quickly cuts, “I guess I’ve just never thought about it like that. But it does feel good to hear it.”

“I like having you at our games” he smiles. “You know you’re part of my warm-up routine?”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I play this little game where I try to spell people’s names as fast as I can with the puck. I tried yours once and we won, so I did it the next night and we won again. Now I do it every game to put a little luck into the ice.”

Fuck. His confession renders you speechless. If there were any more doubts about your feelings for Sebastian, they were well and truly effaced now. And suddenly you gain a partial understanding of what Nykki meant. For every game, whether you’re there or not, Sebastian carves a part of you into it.

You swallow, giving yourself a moment to recollect. “I didn’t think that I was such a game changer,” you softly let out.

You’re not exactly sure when or how it happened but you notice the proximity between you two has significantly lessened. And the arm he has strewn behind you on the top cap suddenly feels misplaced - like they would feel more at home around you.

And for a brief moment - between the silence you’re both too afraid to break - his eyes break away from yours and flick towards your lips.

He inches closer, “You are… everything.”

Your breath hitches. Before you can even stop yourself, your hand rests against his neck, gently pulling him in and Sebastian is more than willing to follow. This is it.

“Guys! KK said his friend can get us into this new club!”

Your eyes close shut and your hand drops down Sebastian. An agitated sigh leaves him as he reluctantly pulls back. You both look at each other, still caught in the moment that’s now fleed at the sound of Seth’s voice.

Seth shakes Sebastian, forcing him to break away from your gaze.

“Did you hear me? KK’s calling us an Uber,” Seth bounces. Not a beat later, Nykki appears and attempts to forcefully pull him away. But it’s Seth. And of course, rightfully so, he wants two of his best friends to come with.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and step out of the booth, not wanting to bask in the awkwardness any longer. As you step outside, the chill of the wind grounds you back into reality, and you instinctively wrap your hands around your arms. In the peripheral of your vision, you see Nykki rush towards you.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to grab onto him but he just moved so quickly.”

You return a small smile, “It’s fine. Really.”

You link arms with her and she guides you to the Uber that Martin is standing by with the door open. As Nykki climbs in, you turn your head and find Sebastian watching.

He almost looks hopeful that you’ll follow him. That you’ll both leave the mess of the group behind and find solitude someplace else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you give a small shake of your head and follow Nykki, with Martin firmly closing the door behind you.

****

In the years you’ve watched Seth play in Raleigh, you’ve never once seen a game from the suite before.

But the Monday morning after your run-in with the group, you find yourself opening a calendar invite from your boss to the first home game of the season with a few key clients. So now, you’re perched by the glass, watching the spotlights dancing around the ice and the crowds of people getting settled in for the night.

“You know we’re meant to be chatting up the clients, right?”

Of course, Charlie managed to be invited too.

“I still haven’t been able to swing by that new restaurant I was telling you about. Could be fun to check it out afterwards,” he says, looking out towards the rink.

“Thanks, Charlie but I think I’m just going to head home the game’s done,” you respond dryly.

He cocks his head with a raised brow, “You know they organized a meet and greet after the game right? The whole reason why we’re here is because the CEO’s son is a huge fan.”

You don’t love the way your body freezes up at the newly shared information. You appreciated that your friendship with the team hadn’t made it past Maddy and Charlie’s lips, but you weren’t confident that would stay the same after tonight. And that’s the only thing that runs through your mind through all three periods. You can barely converse with the clients as you’re half-distracted by the get-away plan that you’re attempting to draw out in your mind, and it leaves your boss shooting you looks of “get your shit together”.

The horn sounds off as soon as the clock hits zero. It’s evident that you’re not getting out of this and the only prayer you have left is that the players who join you are the younger rookies who have little to no idea who you are. But you know the chances of that are slim to none.

You try to push away the anxiousness by listening to a conversation between your boss, Charlie, and the client.

“All I’m saying is that the reason Boston didn’t make it past the first round was because of how shit some of the calls were against them,” Charlie rambles, oblivious to the unimpressed faces.

The door of the suite swings open and you find Jordan, Brady, and Sebastian filing in. They’ve all clearly come straight from the showers, still dripping droplets of water from their hair onto the floor. They make their way around the room and shake everyone’s hands, thanking them for their support. Brady is the first to spot you as he gives you a surprised look followed by a welcoming smile. But he reads the panic in your eyes and - being classically perceptive - nods in understanding.

It doesn’t take another second to pass for Sebastian to register your appearance and amongst the earlier crowding, you’re only now able to fully take in the way he’s dressed. His compression shirt sculpts against him, with the soft lines of his muscles pressing against the fabric. Shorts barely hanging loose against his thighs. A backwards cap sported to tie it all off. It’s enough to make you want to break your silent promise.

Your eyes can’t help but fixate on him the entire time they circulate with everyone in the room. And while Sebastian tries his damn hardest to remain polite and focus on the conversation at hand, he can’t help but flicker his eyes towards you, making sure you won’t disappear on him again.

“Thank you so much for your time. We won’t keep you guys any longer, but best of luck with the season ahead. Bring one home for us, hey?” your boss beams. Everyone else has headed home, leaving just you and Charlie waiting for your boss to let you go.

“Goodnight guys. I’ll see you Monday.”

And with that, it’s just the five of you left in the suite with a few people on the Hurricanes team off to the side.

“Well, we better get going if we want to make it to that restaurant,” Charlie says turning towards you.

Sebastian tenses at this and you see the way Jordan and Brady shoot each other a look.

“I said I’m going home, Charlie.” You’re shutting this down.

“I’ll give you a lift then,” he presses.

Before you can open your mouth to counteract, Sebastian interjects, “You’re not far off from my place, I’ll take you.”

“Yes, please!”

You’d be embarrassed with how quick you are to jump at his offer if it weren’t for the fact that you so desperately wanted to avoid being confined in a car with Charlie.

“Thanks bro, but we’ve got it from here.”

“Actually, I don’t think you do, bro.”

Charlie looks between you two. Growing annoyed at the situation, he grabs his coat and retreats out of the suit. “Whatever. See you Monday.”

A sigh leaves your lips and you don’t realize how taut your body is until it eases under the feeling of Sebastian's hand on your shoulder.

“You guys all good if we take off?” Brady asks, expectedly. Sebastian nods and you all bid goodnight.

“I just have to grab my things but if you’re tired I can just come back for them tomorrow,” he offers, as Brady and Jordan make their way out.

You shake your head, “I can hold on, you’re doing me the favour.”

It doesn’t take long to get back to the locker room, and you can’t help but think about how good he looks when he emerges with his hockey bag hung over one shoulder and a garment bag thrown over the other.

As you lean against the passenger door, waiting for him to throw his things into the boot, you can’t help but start to grow nervous at the realisation that Sebastian may want to talk about that night. But your nervousness is cut short by Sebastian moving in front of you with a small disc in his hand.

A puck.

He looks down at it, fiddling with it between his hands, “It’s from the warm-up. I thought you might like it.”

It’s the puck.

Your mouth falls open slightly, as you gingerly take it, as if you’re afraid it’ll break if you handle it too hard.

“I can’t believe you still do that,” you breathe, turning it over, feeling the ridges where the ice has chipped the edges.

“Of course I do. It changes the game.”

Your eyes dart up at his choice of words - he remembers.

“Why did you stop seeing us?” he puts forward.

You sigh and lean back against the car, turning your head away.

“Was it because of that night at Jarvy’s birthday? Did you not want to…” he trails off. Even he’s not sure what that night was meant to be.

“This world that you’re in Sebastian, I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“I know that we’re away a lot but I-”

“It’s not that,” you quickly cut off. He returns a confused look and you know, as his eyes search you for an answer, that you owe him this explanation.

“Before you came back to the table, I was talking to Nykki about how difficult it can get to be involved with a hockey player.”

“But you’re already involved with us? You were friends with Seth already” he presses.

“And look where it got me last time. I was forced to leave a job after six months because all anyone cared about was being closer to the Canes than me,” you lamented.

“I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m second to the person I’m with; I want to feel equal to them. I want to know who is genuinely trying to be my friend. I want to exist outside of my relationship. I don’t want to have to hide in public because I’m scared to run into people from work.”

You close your eyes, feeling exhausted by the flood of words leaving your mouth, and you half-expect Sebastian to get into his car and drive off.

“I didn’t know.”

You nod in understanding. How could you expect him to know?

“I would never put you in a position where you wouldn’t feel safe,” he says softly.

“But if that’s what you really want, we can move on from everything. But I need you to know how I feel first.” His hand wraps around the side of your jaw and pulls your gaze towards him.

“I wanted to know you the moment Seth pointed you out our game for the first time. And then we spoke at the charity gala and I only wanted to know you even more. And then you were around us more, and I got to know you beyond just being Seth’s friend. And what I know I know is that you’re smarter than you let on but you’re still kind. You’ve remained so grounded that you see me as more than just this job. You make me think more deeply than I ever have with anyone else and I don’t want to go back to a life before I had that.”

You don’t know whether to cry or charge forward. Because after the endless rounds of almosts and what-ifs, you’ve finally caught each other. And the confessions that pour from his mouth left you knowing one thing for certain: you had both waited long enough.

And for the second time, you bring his neck down and finally close the gap between the two of you. Sebastian presses you against the car with his hand wrapping up to rest on the back of your neck, his lips deepening against yours. You never doubted it but his arms feel secure around you, afraid to let go and let the moment be over.

But you pull away just long enough to let out a murmur, “Take me home, Sebastian”

****

Six gruelling months pass by and you find yourself at a potential playoff-clinching game with your colleagues.

Granted your relationship with Sebastian was still very much under wraps, but you had learned to navigate your feelings of discomfort towards the publicity of his job. Sebastian had accommodated your cautiousness. Careful to never spend too long in your section during a pre-game warm up. Made sure to drive around the quiet side of the arena to pick you up afterwards. He had never pushed you to do more than you needed to.

But even though he’d never tell you, you know he’s quietly envious of the way the guys can openly skate with their partner at family skates. Or how they can sit and openly touch at company events. He had afforded you comfort at the expense of his wants. You wanted him to have more than this. And more importantly, you wanted to show him that you wanted more.

So when the buzzer sounds off and the Canes skate away with another return to the Stanely Cup Playoffs, you can’t help but let go of the discontentment you have about being found out. So before you even know it, you find yourself moving towards the ice where Sebastian is wrapping up his post-game interview, ignoring the calls of Maddy asking where you’re going.

And when you reach the board that separates you and your boyfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to skate over, collecting a puck from the equipment manager on the way.

“Always nice to meet a fan,” he winks, offering his pre-game puck.

You grin, pulling him forward by his jersey, “I appreciate it but I’ve gotta tell you that I’ve got a boyfriend.”

His eyes melt at the sound of your public announcement and he catches your lips against his, “I love you so damn much.”

#jo writes #nhl fic #nhl imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #sebastian aho x reader #nhl writing #sebastian aho fanfiction #sebastian aho fics #sebastian aho imagines #nhl fics #nhl imagines

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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

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andrei “all star” svechnikov , andrei svechnikov

note, finally my all-star fic is here! this year, it was between sid, svech, ilya and petey. i did write a petey blurb, so go check it out. if you want. anyways, i hope you enjoy. another note, this fic is part of the "mr. and mrs. svechnikov" series. check out this masterlist for more. in this fic, theo is around 4 while ana is 3. pair, andrei svechnikov x reader summary, the svechnikovs go to their first all-star game together. warnings, children/kids word count, 2717 words

gif credit to bestie @ryanpulock

(gif not mine)

Andrei, the entire way home, was tying to figure out a clever way to tell you he had been invited to the All-Star games. It came to him as he turned down the street of your house.

He quickly pulled into the dirveway and hooked his phone up to the speakers. He made it to the doorway when he finally pressed play on the song.

"Hey now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid"

He heard you let out a scream when the song first started and laughed, pushing the door open to find you gaping at him from the living room, "What the hell?!"

"I'm an All-Star, baby!" He exclaimed.

"There are so many better ways you could have done that." You tried to slow your beating heart. Even your watch was asking if you were okay due to your elevated heartrate.

"Oh, come on, it was funny." He pointed out.

"We'll get back to that when I'm not about to have a heart attack."

After the initial shock, you were excited. You were going on a paid vacation, most expenses were paid for (most) and the climate was set for hot and even hotter so you were excited, to say the least.

Because the Canes were playing till the very last second, you didn't get into Florida until Thursday morning, but you were set to stay until the next Thursday.

The moment you stepped off the plane, there were cameras everywhere, all part of the Canes media or the NHL media. Andrei held Anastaisa's hand and helped her down the stairs, flashing them a professional smile. You stood behind Theo, watching him carefully climb down the stairs behind his sister.

After you got settled into your hotel room, you went with Andrei to media. You weren't normally allowed to be with him, but exceptions were made.

The three of you stood off to the side, watching him and looking around at everyone else who was doing media. Theo ran up and hugged Andrei's leg, looking up at all the reporters nervously. Andrei, not wanting to lose his train of thought, only placed a comforting hand on Theo's head, acknowledging him.

When all the questioning was over, the Canes media wanted to get some shots of him "Is it okay if we ask Theo and Anastasia a question?" One of the media people asked, "We're asking all the kids questions and putting together a little compilation."

Once they were given the okay, the cameras were on Theo and Anastasia. Andrei was crouching next to them as Theo held an iconic tiny microphone for both of them.

"So, Theo, tell us, who are you most excited to see this weekend?" Theo looked around at all the other tables to see who else was at the event.

"Crosby." He answered, "And Ovi, oh, and Marner!" Theo exclaimed happily.

"And what about you, Anastasia?"

Anastasia pondered the question for a second before answering, "Moose and Juice," She stated.

Andrei smiled in response before translating, "Mikko Rantanen and Juuse Saros."

Theo tugged on Andrei's pant leg, grabbing his attention and everyone else's as well, "Can we go swimming now, daddy?" Theo asked.

Everyone laughed, "Yeah, we can go swimming, buddy."

Theo had stated that he wanted to walk the carpet with Andrei where all the fans would be and all the paparazzi would be before the Skills competition.

You got him dressed in his best outfit, one which he chose specifically for this situation, "Will people ask for my autograph?" He asked excitedly.

"I don't know, buddy." You tied his shoe as he answered all his questions best you could, "But I do know you're gonna get your picture taken by all those people with cameras."

"Really?" His face lit up.

"Yeah, really." You nodded, a smile finding its way onto your face.

"Like daddy?"

"Just like daddy." You nodded, smoothing down his hair.

When both Andrei and Theo were ready, both you and Anastasia sent them off, with a promise of seeing each other in a couple hours. You got yourself and Anastasia ready before you headed over to the arena.

She was sporting one of the jerseys you had customized with "Little Svech" on the back with the number 37. You waited for Andrei and Theo in the hallway near the locker room.

As more and more players started filing out of the room, her eyes would go wide as they walked past, giving each of them a high-five, even if she didn't know who they were.

"Mommy, you see?" She jumped up and down as she gave Kirill Kaprizov a high-five.

"I did." You nodded, before spotting Andrei and Theo coming out of the locker room, "Look, there's papa and Theo." She whipped around and ran over to greet them.

Andrei was wearing a reverse retro Canes jersey and a hat while Theo wore his matching "Little Svech" jersey.

"Mommy, mommy!" Theo ran over to you the best he could in skates.

"What, what?" You asked.

"I met Breadman and Hughesy," Theo told you excitedly.

"Did you really? Wow."

"We missed Sid and Ovi." He frowned.

"That's okay, I'm sure you'll meet them soon." You reassured. You turned your attention back to Andrei who was smiling so big, and opened your mouth to say something but switched your attention to Theo and Anastasia who were excitedly talking to each other about all the people they met.

"Hey, I have an idea," You grabbed their attention, "Do you guys wanna be with papa out on the ice or do you want to sit with me in the stands?" You knew the answer before you asked the question.

They each latched onto one of Andrei's legs in response, to which both you and Andrei both laughed, "All right, I'll see you both later. Be good." They both nodded, "Listen to the adults in charge." They wrapped their arms around you, "Love you." You kissed their heads.

"Bye, mommy." They each kissed your cheek.

You stood up to meet Andrei. You wrapped your arms around him, "Skate really fast." You told him.

He laughed, "I'll try." He responded, "And don't worry about them, I've got them. Have fun, or as much as you can."

"I'll have two beers in your honor." You pulled your head away, with a smile on your face, so you could look him in the eyes.

"Sounds good." He leaned down and kissed you softly before you both pulled away.

You found your spot rather quickly and took a sip of your beer. From the ice, Anastasia spotted you and waved enthusiastically. You laughed, waving back to her.

"She's cute." The woman sitting next to you commented.

"Thank you." You beamed.

Down on the ice, Theo and Anastasia were having the time of their lives, hanging out with all the other kids and meeting all the other hockey players.

Theo and Anastasia were sitting on the bench, Ilya Sorokin sitting in between them, babysitter. At the same time, Andrei participated in his skill, snacking on ice cream bars as they watched the fastest skaters.

"Ooh." Anastasia winced when Cale Makar tripped and went flying into the boards. She looked up at Ilya, who laughed at her reaction. She giggled in response.

Kevin Fiala skated around the rink, and both Anastasia and Theo enjoyed it, but when they saw their dad step up to the starting line, they jumped up off the bench and started cheering.

"Papa!" They both jumped up and down, garnering the attention of people around them, who simply smiled at the two of them.

They didn't stop once as he skated around the rink. They only stopped when he skated over to where they were. They all looked up at the jumbotron and saw that he was now in first place.

"Wow." Theo gasped, and Andrei smiled proudly.

After Stephenson and Larkin went, Fiala and Andire were announced as the two finalists, "Go fast, papa." Anastasia told her father

"I will." Andrei laughed, kissing each of their heads once again. He skated out to the center of the ice with Fiala.

Andrei wanted to win it, but in the back of his mind, he knew that his 3 biggest supporters would be proud of him regardless of what happened.

Kevin Fiala went first and got 14.114. Andrei lined up behind the line and took a deep breath before he skated as fast as his legs could carry him.

He blocked out the sounds of people cheering and all the eyes on him and just skated. He skated until he made it back to the starting/finish line.

Once the timer stopped, he slowed down and looked up at the big jumbotron to see his time. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the 13.699 in big numbers.

He could practically hear Anastasia and Theo cheering from their seats and jumping up and down. He skated back over to the bench to do the interview but waved over across the bench to Theo and Anastasia whose smiles were almost as big as his.

"Andrei you realize, with Brady looking at you, you just outworked every single guy here with that lap. How do you feel right now?" Kevin, the reporter asked.

"I think I just got lucky, to be honest." He could hear his own voice come through the loudspeakers around the arena, "But I would never expect to win this, and I'm kind of excited."

"You know everybody around the league now is going to look at you as a Speedster. Are you ready for that title?" Kevin asked.

"Ah no, I'm not sure if they're gonna look at that" Andrei chuckled.

"Wow, great job congratulations, your first All-Star Game. You're the fastest skater." Kevin shook his hand.

"Thank you so much. Appreciate it." Andrei nodded.

After the tournament and the rest of the challenges, you waited in the tunnel near the locker room with a few of the other partners. You were talking with Johnny Gaudreau's wife while you waited for the rest of your family to come out of the locker room.

When Andrei finally exited the locker room, he was dressed and carrying both sleeping children in his arms. Your heart swooned when Andrei smiled.

He handed Anastasia off to you, "I have to get my bag, but I'll be back." He turned to head back into the locker room, but you grabbed his hand gently to stop him.

He looked confused as he turned around, "I'm proud of you, All-Star." You whispered, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

The next day, Anastasia and Theo were up bright and early. Jumping out of their bed and into yours, "Wake up!" They both shouted, jumping up and down.

You groaned, shoving your head under the pillow, "You promised us chocolate chip pancakes last night." Even though your eyes were closed and you couldn't Theo's face,

"Why did we do that again?" You reached over and softly punched Andrei in the shoulder who was in a similar position as you.

"To get them to sleep." He replied, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Come on, come on!" Theo jumped off the bed and grabbed Andrei's arm, trying to pull him out of bed.

You both eventually pulled yourselves out of bed and got yourselves ready then took Theo and Anastasia down to get breakfast. After breakfast and spending some time at the pool, it was time to get ready for the game.

Andrei got ready a little quicker because he had to be at the arena a little earlier than you had to be, but he helped Theo get ready before he left.

"Goodbye, I love you both." He kissed each of their heads, "Be good for your mom. I'll see you on the ice." He booped Anastasia on the nose, making her giggle.

"And I love you, too." He turned his attention to you, "I'll see you later."

"See you on the ice." You kissed him, hugging him and savoring the feeling of him being there with you, "Love you, too."

Theo was sitting next to you chowing down on some popcorn while Anastasia stood on your legs, dancing to the music blasting through the speakers.

"Stormy!" Theo pointed a few rows over to the familiar mascot. That caught the mascot's attention, and he looked up. Theo waved erratically. Stormy finished the interaction he was having and then made his way up to your row.

You were luckily sitting at the end of the row, so Stormy sat down on the steps next to your seats after giving Theo and Anastasia big hugs. Theo and Stormy talked (which was more just Theo talking and Stormy nodding along) while you waited for the first game to start.

Al the set pieces were set up on the ice already so you waited excitedly as Anastasia babbled and danced away. The lights eventually dimmed, and Theo screeched, clamoring into his seat, holding tight to Stormy's hand.

The Central Division was announced first, then Atlantic, then finally Metropolitan, "From the Carolina Hurricanes, Andrei Svechnikov!" Andrei skated out from the big monitors.

Theo stood up in his seat and cheered loudly. Stormy jumped up and down with him, "Look, papa." You laughed, pointing down to the ice. Anastasia followed your finger down to Andrei. She giggled, looking up at you.

After all the games and Takchuk was named MVP, Andrei was in media, Theo sitting happily in his lap, "How was your first Al-Star game, Svech?"

"it was great, I had a lot of fun, and getting to bring the kids along is a plus."

"What're you gonna do now that you have a week-long break?"

"We're going to Disney World." He laughed, eliciting a laugh from the reporters in the room.

"I'm sure Theo and Ana are excited."

"So excited." Andrei nodded.

Theo tugged on Andrei's shirt sleeve and Andrei bent down, his ear to Theo's mouth, "Ovi and Sid." He whispered, but his whispering wasn't very quiet.

The reporters chuckled, "We'll go find them later." Andrei whispered back before turning back to the reporters.

"We won't keep you for long, Andrei. Seems like Theo is excited." Andrei nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you." He picked Theo up and exited the room.

The TikTok of the kids answering who they would want to see the most went viral, and in particular, Theo and Anastasia went viral. Most of the comments were saying that now Theo and Anastasia had to meet their favorite players, so the media set it up.

You and Andrei led Theo and Anastasia to the ice where Sid, Ovi, Mikko, and Juuse were waiting to meet their Number one fans, media all around you.

Theo let out a gasp when the rink came into view and he saw Ovi and Sid standing on the ice. Anastasia heard and turned her head to the ice.

"Juice and Moose!" She announced your presence, causing the four players to turn to you. All of you laughed as they skated over to meet you halfway.

Theo, suddenly shy, hid behind Andrei's legs as Sid bent down in front of him, "Hi, Theo."

"Hi." Theo waved shyly.

"I heard you were a big fan." Theo nodded. Ovi produced a puck and handed it to Theo. Theo reached out and took it.

"What do you say?" Andrei whispered down to him.

"Thank you," Theo responded.

"You're very welcome." They both smiled.

Anastasia was just as starstruck as Theo, hiding her face in your neck as Mikko and Juuse stood in front of her. They both smiled as Juuse produced a puck and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She responded.

"You're welcome, Ana." They both smiled, "It was nice to meet you."

She only smiled, clutching the puck to her chest. You smiled down at her, "Wow, Ana. You met Juice and Moose." She beamed. Theo bounced up and down as he flashed you his puck, "Wow, look at that! They both signed it!"

"We have to add it to my collection." He told you.

"We'll do it at home." You brushed a hand through his hair, "Now, come on, Disney World is waiting for us."

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add yourself to my taglist!

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mp0625 · 4 months

Text

Elsker

Masterlist. Taglist.

Freddie Andersen x Reader

Thank you Demi @wyattjohnston for doing this little love fic fest thingy, it was so fun to do!!! I am choosing to do number 3 from the Fluff column “Are you about to monologue your feelings for me?”

A/N: I was planning on doing an angsty one but I wrote this at 5am on valentine’s Day cause insomnia sucks so y’all are getting fluffy. Sorry if it makes no sense, it made sense to my half asleep brain but I promise I did reread it before I posted it. Sorry it’s super short.

“Hey Freddie I don’t know if you’ll hear this as you’re in the middle of a game, but I have something to tell you and when you get this will you call..”

“Y/N, you do know I’ve been on this call the whole time?”

“What? I thought I heard the beep, and aren't you in the middle of a game?”

“It's the second intermission, I don’t know how you heard a beep, I’m sitting in the locker room. Are you about to monologue your feelings for me via voicemail?”

“Maybe, can I or do I need to hang up the phone and call again so I get voice mail?”

“You can do it now.” And you could tell he had the biggest grin on his face.

“Freddie, you know how you asked me to move in with you right before you left for the road trip and I was so stunned I couldn’t answer you right away and you told me to take my time, I think I know my answer. Yes. I would love to move in with you and all of your plants. And you make the best dinner in the world, and I can’t wait to take our relationship to the next level!!” After your monologue you couldn’t hear anything from the otherside of the phone.

After a moment he softly spoke. “I can’t wait for you to move in with me.” And you could hear the tears in his voice. “Hey, I’m sorry I can’t talk longer we are about to go back out for the third.”

Taglist: @studioreader @honethatty12 @slafgoalskybaby @swissboyhisch @topguncultleader @wondershells @cixrosie @kajasagmo

#nhl x reader #lowkey lovefest 2k24 #carolina hurricanes fic #freddie andersen x reader #frederik andersen imagine #freddie andersen #nhl blurb #nhl imagines

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leafs-lover · 1 year

Note

y/n and Freddie in btpdg is one of my favorite couples to ready about. have you thought of doing a blurb or something where Freddie comes home from a roadie and wakes y/n up in a ✨spicy✨ way? like, maybe when ollie was a baby because sleep is precious when they have 4 little monsters.

Series Masterlist

This is set before YN and Fred have had conversations about getting together but it’s painfully obvious they both want it so like figure it out already? You also don’t have to have read the entire fic to make sense of it, this is a stand alone piece

Warnings: swearing, smut (fingering and p in v), a slight dominance link, I didn’t proofread or edit so if you see any spelling/ grammar mistakes keep them to yourself

Fred’s least favourite thing was leaving.

Ollie learned what the duffle bag meant and would whine every time he saw it, you of course knew what it meant and would also whine about it. Only difference was he could reason with you. He’d always promise you a date once he returned and you’d always prop yourself on your tippy toes, wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down, growling “why wait?”

Oliver was walking and talking, a handful with every step, leave him alone for more than a minute and every toy was thrown across the living room, or he would have the pantry open tossing boxes onto the floor. He kept you on your toes and you both felt uneasy leaving him even if only for a few minutes. So you would wait, but that doesn’t mean you’d make it easy on him. You would constantly send pictures, snapchats, answering his FaceTimes while wearing practically nothing. You knew exactly what you were doing and it drove him crazy.

Typically the Pens would fly the team back early in the morning after a road trip and since giving Fred a key you tended to wake up and find the living room full of laughter, Oliver wearing only a diaper as he terrorized the couch cushions.

This particular road trip ended in Philly and it was a very quick flight home. The team ventured back to Pittsburgh after the game and Fred set out for your apartment. He made good time, it was near midnight and the roads were empty.

Not a single light was on, not even the blue glow from a TV to alert him to your presence. It’s quiet, but not an eery quiet, it’s peaceful.

Fred drops his bag by the door and sets his keys in the bowl. His jacket is left on the rack and he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he walks down the dark hallway. He stops at Oliver’s room and half expects the crib to be empty meaning a night with a sprawling toddler who kicks him seventeen times in the ribcage, but as the light from the hall filters in Fred catches a glimpse of the red locks on his tiny body. Like every night he spends with Oliver, Fred walks over to the side of the crib and takes a second to just watch his son. There is something about watching a baby sleep perfectly and peacefully that makes his heart swell - he doesn’t know how he went this long without it. He gently whispers goodnight and places a kiss to his cheek, then leaves the door as he found it - open a crack - before venturing toward you.

There is a copy of The Whispers cracked open on the mattress beside you, a cup of cold herbal tea lingers on the bedside table. The blankets are down low past your hips and one leg is kicked out - evidence you got hot at some point - your perky nipples protrude through the thin white cotton shirt you wore to sleep. The desire for baby number two throbs in his pants, if only that topic wouldn’t send you running Fred could bring it up.

He throws his pants over a chair, folds his shirt and places it on the seat and slips out of his socks. He grabs your “bookmark” from the night stand and lets his finger trace over the worn edges for a moment. It’s not an actual bookmark, but a picture taken moments after Oliver was born. Fred knew you were using a picture, but Oliver was almost one before he knew what the picture was, and that was the moment he knew there was a chance you’d come back to him. Because it’s not a picture of just you and Oliver, it’s one of the three of you. Sweat clings in your hairline, trapping baby hairs to your forehead, both of you have puffy red eyes from crying with the biggest smiles imaginable plastered to your faces, only thing is Fred is staring at Oliver and you are looking up at him. Even with the emotions of that moment, he can see there is more to the look you are giving him. You’re not staring at the father of your son, you are staring at the man you love. Fred is so happy he noticed that glimmer in your eyes and decided to wait you out, because he catches you looking at him like that countless times a day (even though you won’t admit it anytime soon). Fred smiles, like he does every time he sees this photo, and sets it inside the book, then curls up beside you.

He knows he should let you sleep, you have a very energetic toddler that loves to keep you on your toes, but that shirt is just a little to see-through and a little too tight and you sent one too many messages.

He starts slow.

His hand on your stomach and lips on your jaw. It’s soft, a kiss that goes unnoticed.

His calloused hand ventures up, finding one of those perfect breasts you spent a week tormenting him with and he begins to massage it, tweaking and tugging at your nipple. A sleepy sigh catches in your throat but Fred can tell it’s going to take more.

His touch is light as his hand drops, under the elastic band of his boxers you decided to sleep in. The pressure starts off gentle, slow circles being pressed against your heat. His lips trail along your jaw, over to the sweet spot on your neck. Instead of kissing he starts to suck, harder and harder, letting his teeth sink in. When he doesn’t earn the response he desperately seeks, two fingers toy at your entrance, coating themselves in your arousal.

“Hi baby,” Fred murmurs when you finally start to stir.

“Hi,” you mumble back, involuntarily tilting your head to the side, giving him more space to work with. “I missed you.”

“I know you did.” His fingers slip inside as far as they can go. Your eyes dart open.

“Shit baby.” Your legs kick out and back arches as he thrusts his digits back inside.

“You knew what you were doing with all those pictures you sent.” He chastises, thrusting his fingers back inside once again. “Knew what it was doing to me.”

“Of course I did.” Your voice is becoming strangled, the pressure starting to build.

“Then what did you expect?”

Fred shoves his boxers down your thighs and you feel his cock, rock hard and leaking excitement all over your hip. With a few more thrusts to get you wet and ready, Fred replaces his fingers with his member, and you both moan in unison.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” He probes, shunting you up the bed with one deep thrust. “What you wanted huh?” He punctuates with another thrust.

“I always want you.” You whimper, knowing he is waiting for a response.

Your fingers tremble when they feel the hard muscles of his back. You always loved his body and he’s always loved yours. Beads of sweat cascade down your neck and Fred smiles, his second favourite thing to lick.

“Only me right?”

He doesn’t mean it as a question, at least not in this moment. There will be a time for the hard questions, a conversation where he will make you admit to what you’ve been feeling (because he has zero doubt and knows you just need a nudge). This question is more about dominance, a reminder, because him practically prodding your cervix doesn’t do that.

“As if there could be anyone else.”

Fred hooks your left leg over his hip and finally brings his lips to yours. His mustache tickles your upper lip and his tongue works its way into your mouth. It’s sloppy, frantic, full of heat. Every time he presses his tongue in further your nails scratch along his back. And after every firm and direct thrust hits that spot deep inside, your moan gets caught in his mouth.

“You look so good with my cock inside you.” Fred grunts, punctuating his words with another thrust.

“You feel so good inside me.”

“Gonna feel even better with my cum dripping out of you.” Fred smirks as one hand snakes between your bodies and rubs at your clit. It suddenly becomes very difficult to concentrate on what he is saying. You can see his lips moving and can only imagine the filth spewing out.

You writhe beneath him as your pleasure reaches it’s peak. Your nails dig deep into the thickest part of his bicep and with one more punctuated thurst you come undone, warmth spilling around his cock. Fred’s cocky grin only grows even as his thrusts are sloppy and shallow, and just as your body relaxes Fred spills everything deep inside your cunt.

It takes a bit for your hearts to steady, it always does, Fred’s version of a “quickie” often leaves you feeling like you ran 5k.

Fred looks down at you, brown eyes clouded with lust and passion and leans back in, replacing the heated and heavy kisses with a soft one, full of warmth.

“Elskede.” He smiles sweetly, his cock soft inside you.

“Hmm.”

“Tease me like that again and I won’t wake you up as nicely next time.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrug him off, a hint of insolence in your voice. His cock twitches. You being bratty always did turn him on.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series, either through likes/reblogs or by asking. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@mandypants95 @c-tangerinene @puccbunni @hockeyinaussie @hockeypuckspost @0kikina0 @sixmapleleafs @hockeyunitsyunits @localcalumhoe @starswin @je-ne-regrette-rien @mollybirk @daniellepulice72 @callsign-denmark

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thomasschabot · 2 years

Text

broken hearts and dirty windows make life difficult to see

sebastian aho x fem!reader

two times you felt sebastian cracking your heart and one time he shattered it

word count: 2.2k

warnings: cursing, crumbling relationships, major dickweed vibes from mr. aho

a/n: hello hello! this a little gift for @sebbyaho as part of @antoineroussel’s summer fic exchange. i hope you enjoy <3 super huge props to demi for organizing yet another amazing event!!!! also everyone go thank @joshuaanderson because she’s the one who told me to get my ass in gear and write a 3+1 but i can’t commit to anything so this is what we ended up with

⭑⭒⭑

The lack of public displays of affection in your relationship doesn’t bother you.

Private, not secret is the motto Sebastian lives by, given the nature of his rising superstardom, and you’ve always been one to keep to yourself. Over the years there have been tastefully curated instagram posts from each of you with heads cropped out or faces covered, but to those close it’s clear the two of you are a couple. You know Sebastian loves you, he knows you love him — that’s enough.

Raleigh, and North Carolina in general, might be becoming more hockey-centric, but the players and their families can still wander in peace. It’s part of the reason Sebastian has never tried to move. Pundits and reporters are correct in saying he could get a larger paycheque somewhere else, but it’s the anonymity and freedom to exist that keeps him, and you, here. There have been discussions about moving closer to your family, seeing as you both spend the off-season in Finland with his, but it’s never amounted to anything more than pillow talk fantasies. You’re happy in Raleigh and the Hurricanes have become a family away from home.

Anyone associated with the team, even on a part-time basis knows about Sebastian’s relationship. It’s important for both of you to share some parts of yourselves with others, and the easiest way to do that is by going to dinners or barbecues with teammates. He doesn’t have many friends outside the organization, and by nature of being far away from home neither do you. It isn’t inherently lonely, but a lot of your time is spent at work, with Sebastian, or the three former co-workers who are still in contact with you.

“Sepe,” you grumble, having grown increasingly tired of following him around the shopping mall. “Can’t you buy shoes without me?”

A pensive yet teasing look flashes across his features. “I suppose so, but there’s no fun in that.”

The comment earns him a light kick to the shin, which is swiftly followed up by Sebastian ruffling your hair. You manage to pry him away from the sneaker store with promises of something more worthwhile at home, and as you exit the store you feel Sebastian’s pinky link with yours. It’s something small he started doing years ago to let you know he was still around in crowded places, and you cherish the meaning it holds.

From around the corner there’s laughter, which doesn’t bother either of you, and you continue to wander towards the mall’s exit. “Aho, you beauty, is that you?” a boy, no more than nineteen, calls out from the group, approaching Sebastian with open arms. Instantly Sebastian’s hand is dropped from yours and he’s a good arms length away from you.

“Hey man, how’s it going? How’s camp?” your boyfriend asks with ease, slipping into an easy conversation about hockey while going around the circle and greeting everyone. It doesn’t take you long to concur that the boys are newcomers, part of this year’s draft class in Raleigh for development camp, and that they took a liking to Sebastian when he helped lead a couple of off ice seminars about how to adjust to living alone in a new city.

You hang back, letting the guys do their thing, not particularly interested in whatever drill they’re talking about. Sebastian has interests that differ from your own, including hockey, and it’s nice to give him space to engage in it with other fans. The digital edition of The New Yorker was released early in the morning, and you scroll through your phone reading articles of interest. Eventually someone clears their throat, signalling your presence has been noted.

“And you are?”

Before you can speak and introduce yourself, Sebastian does it for you. “She’s just a friend of mine,” he shrugs casually, completely forgetting to mention that the two of you have been dating for nearly four years, “And we’ve actually got to get going. See you around.”

With the parting words uttered and handshakes administered yet again, the group splits in the opposite direction you and Sebastian are going. The white hot sting of rejection burns in your stomach, creeps up your esophagus, and threatens to spill out. Tears also begin to well in your eyes but you blink them away. Why didn’t he just just introduce you as his girlfriend? There has never been any hesitation from him in the past.

Suddenly walking beside him is too much, and you need a few degrees of separation from the man you love. “I just forgot I need to stop by the office quickly,” you blurt out. “Nina left some documents for me to sign since I won’t be there on Monday when the deal goes through.”

“Want me to come with you?” Sebastian asks, back to playing the doting boyfriend like nothing happened. You suppose to him maybe nothing had.

“It’s okay, I’ll only be a few extra minutes. Besides, you have so many bags. I’ll meet you at home.”

You allow him to place a kiss to your cheek in farewell, and head in the opposite direction. Once you’re sure Sebastian is out of the building, or at least out of sight, you make a beeline for the nearest washroom, no longer able to hold back from crying.

In the mirror as you splash water on your face to reduce puffiness, a vain and probably futile attempt of not alerting Sebastian to your upset, you can’t help but curse his name. “Private, not secret,” you mutter, flicking more water upwards, “How fucking stupid.”

Enough time eventually passes for you to have reasonably gone to the office and signed papers, and you catch a glimpse of yourself on the way out. Mascara dots your undereyes, though not noticeably, but it’s the pained expression on your features that unsettles you. You hadn’t realized until this moment that the reason you’re so upset isn’t because he didn’t declare his love for you, but because he did it so easily and without a second thought you wonder how many times he’s done it when you're not around.

The thought makes a small piece of your heart splinter off.

⭑⭒⭑

Independence in relationships is incredibly important.

You’ve always been a force to be reckoned with, and that didn’t end when you started dating Sebastian. Doing things alone has never been an issue for you — solo travelling has always been one of your favourite hobbies and you still regularly take weekends away without your boyfriend. He does the same, knows it’s healthy, and the time apart helps you grow and be stronger together. Tonight the two of you are going out with separate friend groups, getting ready alongside each other in a comfortable silence.

“Babe? Pass me my toothbrush?” Sebastian asks, words muffled slightly by the towel he has scrunched over his face to try and try his hair.

In the middle of brushing your own, you nod before reaching into the toothbrush holder and pulling out the bamboo stick that matches yours. A year or so ago you realized just how much plastic waste the hygiene tool creates, and Sebastian welcomed the change with open arms. Soon the only sound in the bathroom is the scrubbing of teeth and the hum that Sebastian elicits when you bend over to spit in the sink. You go to swat him for the insinuated lewdness but he dodges easily, playful smile on his lips before he ducks out of the room to change.

Mascara and lipstick are the finishing touches to your makeup look, which is complete in a matter of seconds. Hair is the next item to check off your list — it’s too hot in the southern heatwave Raleigh is experiencing to do anything other than a ponytail, but you try to spice it up with a fluffy braid or two. It sounds as though Sebastian is getting ready to leave from the newly sneaker-clad footsteps clomping around the apartment, and being finished enough in the bathroom to leave it you go to bid him goodbye.

He’s facing away from you, back slightly hunched because he’s no doubt texting Teuvo that he’s on the way to pick him up. You didn’t care to ask about the details of this guys’ night, but from a casual conversation or two throughout the week you learned they were going to some upscale bar that supposedly has the best bottle service in the world, according to a few rookies. Careful not to alert him to your presence, you tip-toe across the room and wrap your arms around Sebastian’s waist as soon as you’re able. You inhale into his shirt, breathing in cologne and something else that’s indescribably Sebastian, but you also don’t miss the way his muscles contract under your touch instead of releasing.

“Have fun tonight,” you say softly while backing away, afraid to make him any more uncomfortable. Affection in your home has always been encouraged by Sebastian despite his reservations about it in public.

His response is just as quiet. “Thanks, sweetheart, you too.”

A ping comes from Sebastian’s phone then, and he goes to leave, goes as far as taking two steps towards the door before you make one more move of desperation for some intimacy. You tug his arm back gently, lace your fingers through his, and lean in. Sebastian has never said no to a kiss in all the years you’ve known him, and hopefully it will appease the anxiety creating roots in your brain.

“Don’t kiss me.”

You’re beyond taken aback by the words — are actually flabbergasted. “Why not?” you ask, but the words are shaky and don’t come out of your mouth as you would have liked them to.

Sebastian sighs. “Your lipstick will get stuck in the corners of my mouth and the guys will tease me relentlessly. I just don’t want that right now.”

It takes everything in you to not let him see the hurt he’s caused displayed on your features. You’ve always been an emotive person, and it was something Sebastian always said he loved about you. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Well, it’s stopping me now.”

He’s gone without an apology, though the remarks thrown your direction are firmly located in a morally ambiguous grey area so you’re not even sure one is warranted, and promises to see you when he gets home. The door opens and shuts without so much of a hinge squeak, and you’re left alone with nothing but your racing thoughts and heavy heart.

You pick up your phone, send a few texts to the group chat explaining that you’re under the weather but want them to still have fun, and crawl into bed lipstick and all. It unintentionally stains the pillowcase in the shuffle, and your heartstrings tug — would it have been such a bad thing if Sebastian had been marked as yours?

⭑⭒⭑

The rare dinners you’re able to share with Sebastian during the season are normally filled with a comfortable silence.

Tonight, however, it’s suffocating. Normally you would chalk up the slight scowl and grunts while he shovels food into his mouth to a bad practice, but it was an off day. You’re utterly perplexed at the behaviour, at everything Sebastian has done lately, but you’re too exhausted to have that conversation with him. Maybe someday soon, possibly even tomorrow, but not right now. All you’re focused on is getting through dinner and crawling into bed.

Your work day had been horrendous — everything went wrong that could, plus things you didn’t even know had the option to blow up in your face. Clients screamed at you over the phone about advertisements not being printed, a co-worker ‘accidentally’ ate your lunch, and the position you interviewed for was given to a newcomer with little skill. All you want to do is put this day behind you and start again when the sun rises.

Clanking cutlery is enough to pull you out of your thoughts. You notice Sebastian’s plate is clear, your own barely touched, and he’s looking at you with an unreadable stare. After so many years together you thought you could read him like a book, but apparently not.

“I thought I could like it like this.”

Your own fork and knife crash against porcelain, making your ears ring. “Like what?”

Sebastian sighs, “Us. I thought I could learn to love us like this. Just being boring and domestic, but I can’t. I need more.”

Pain flashes across your features, and he winces when he looks up to see the wounded expression you wear. Not knowing what else to do, you take a sip of water. One turns into several, and soon the glass in front of you is empty.

“I can give you more,” you whisper. You know you’d give anything to Sebastian if he asked, and you are determined to make this work.

He shakes his head, most likely in defeat or exasperation. “You can’t. That’s alright, I’ve accepted it. You should too.”

The finality in his tone surprises you — he’s clearly been thinking about this for a while, and his disinterest in including you in the conversation stings almost as much as the action of him walking away from the table. Sebastian continues to say nothing as you sit mouth agape and unable to move. Time is frozen and you’re stuck, possibly forever in the moment where the relationship you thought would last forever shattered into a million pieces. You don’t even know he’s actually gone until the front door slams, effectively breaking your heart in a way you’re not sure can ever be repaired.

⭑⭒⭑

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :) <3

#sebastian aho imagine #sebastian aho x reader #sebastian aho fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #the summer fic exchange 2k22 #cwrites

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sydnikov · 1 month

Text

Fleeting || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.5k

Summary: Every moment with Andrei is fleeting.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cheating(?), toxic relationship, alcoholic consumption, angst, cursing, no happy ending, Andrei-is-a-dick™

A/N: For those of you who have already been following me, you might remember this post—that’s what this is based on :) This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written so that’s insane, but sorry not sorry. Get ready, this one’s gonna hurt 🤭

Andrei doesn’t love you.

It becomes clear for you months after you start fucking him on the side. His likeness for you is merely an obsession, something to have all to himself.

You’re his, or were his, and that’s how he saw you. Nothing more than that, or at least that’s the conclusion you’ve come to after months apart lets you reflect on your relationship with him.

Spending a lot of time in your head, you think. About him, his actions, why he couldn’t love you the way you love him.

He always held you close to him, one muscular arm curled around your waist while the other likely held a drink in his hand. He paraded you around like a prize, happy to show off the hot piece of meat he likely thought of you as at his side.

It was hard to reach him, literally and metaphorically. You had to stand up on your toes to reach his ear, and the power imbalance just by your height difference alone only made the whole thing hotter, merely one aspect of your relationship you never really could get over.

Every time you spoke it had him grinning in a way that made you think he knew something you didn’t. You’re already so shy, too, and it’s what made up your whole demeanor, what drew him to you in the first place.

He likes sweetness. Innocence, quiet—that way you couldn’t rebel. And he loved it when you doted on him. You did your best to be everything he wanted in a girl, too. Bold makeup, skimpy clothing, speaking only to him and him alone. Best of all, you didn’t question him. His actions, his decisions, why he’d sometimes go days without speaking to you but once he called you again, you would come running without hesitation.

It took you too long to realize that he only liked you because you were someone he could fall back on when the freedom of his escapades got too boring and he needed stability. The thing is that Andrei loved you being his, but he didn’t want to ever be yours.

And you know this now, you do. The moment you went no contact and left his apartment in tears, you were calling your best friend for support and to reinforce the fact that he is the asshole, not you.

Sometimes, though, you dream. Of his hands on you, his mouth on your neck, his thick cock pounding into you from behind. The toxicity of it all that, despite everything, felt so good because your emotions were always on overdrive when with him.

Mostly, you liked feeling desired. Nobody had ever pursued you the way he did, even if your body is all he really wanted from you to begin with.

It’s been months since you confessed your feelings for him and he told you to leave; months of you wallowing, going to work, meeting with friends for drinks as a shell of yourself because without Andrei, life suddenly seemed colorless.

You miss him. The excitement, the tension, the way he made you feel. And you pride yourself on being confident, but all self respect flies out the window the moment his name is brought up. It’s wrong, too, you swear you know this, and you imagine countless times telling him off, if you ever run into him again.

For treating you like a body to warm his dick, a soulless individual with no feeling… You’re reminded of the last conversation you had with him yet again, the one that ended everything. You’d been seeing each other for months when it occurred. Months full of Andrei and the rollercoaster of emotions he had you on.

To get to the end, though, you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s January of twenty twenty-three, and you’re freshly twenty-one and experiencing the world in a way you never could before. Riding the high of getting your first serious job in college, it took no convincing at all for you to let your best friend, Maria, convince you to go out on a Friday night to celebrate your blossoming lives.

“Who are we meeting there, again?” You ask, painting your lips a bright red in front of Maria’s full-body mirror. You’ve already started pregaming, and your head is starting to buzz in just the way you like it.

Your blonde friend is quickly curling her hair, despite the fact that she’s had hours to get ready and still procrastinated until you arrived at her apartment. “Some friends from work. You probably won’t know them,” She says offhandedly, finishing her hair in record timing before snatching up the two dresses she had previously laid out on her bed. “Should I wear this in black or red?”

Raising a brow, you question her wording. “Considering I don’t work with you, I doubt I would.” Laughing, you turn your head away from the mirror to examine the two dresses she’s holding up to her body. “Do the red one, it makes your eyes pop.”

Anything would look good on Maria, though. She has this timeless sort of beauty, a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell that has eyes turning her way wherever she goes. You’d be jealous if you didn’t mind her taking all the attention off of you, considering you’re nowhere near as bold as her.

It will especially come in handy tonight, too, since these co-workers of hers are ones you’ve never met before and you don’t exactly plan on getting too close to them.

“This is why I get ready with you,” Maria sighs happily, unceremoniously throwing the black dress back onto her bed. “Oh! I almost forgot, I have heels for you!” She’s then running back into her closet, ruffling through a box before emerging with a pair of bright red stilettos.

“What’s with the red theme tonight?” You giggle as she tosses the heels to you. They look expensive, a brand you don’t recognize written in cursive on the inside of the leather soles. Maria insisted you incorporate red into your outfit tonight, whether it be subtle or bold.

She eyes you from her position on the bed, somehow managing to zip up her dress one-handed. “You don’t watch sports by any chance, do you?”

Throwing back the last of a vodka shot, you wince before responding. “My dad made me watch baseball with him sometimes?”

Maria’s face lights up like she suddenly knows something you don’t. All she does is hum in response, biting her lip like she’s holding back from telling you something.

Or, you’re just drunk. You’ve always been a lightweight. “What?” You ask anyway, finally standing up as you adjust yourself.

The blonde walks over to you, fixes the creases in your little black dress and affixes you with an approving stare. “Don’t worry about it,” Suddenly, she’s whirling around to go back for her phone, which is laid faced down on the nightstand. “Ooh, I knew those heels were a good choice. You look so good!”

As she saunters back over, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you into her side and poses for a picture, you forget all about the abrupt topic change and the fact that her red theme with questions of sports does mean something, after all.

Truthfully, you still can’t remember exactly how you got from her apartment and into a high-end bar you’ve only ever seen advertised online. Bits and pieces of an Uber ride along with downing more shots come to mind, but it’s all hazy.

You don’t really care to remember though, either, as Maria leads you through the crowded bar, arm linked through yours, with a purpose. The music is loud, so loud you think you can see the walls moving, but that’s also probably just your swimming vision.

“Here they are!” Maria is shouting over the noise, and you follow her gaze to a group of tall, imposing men surrounding two booths right by the bar.

“Those are you coworkers?” You ask, a little incredulous. Scratch that—very incredulous.

She sends you a mischievous grin. “I said friends, girl. Meet my friends!” That’s what gathers their attention, and you’re suddenly reminded that she’s just as tipsy as you right now, if not more.

Ah, fuck, you think as one of the men come over and pull Maria into a hug. He looks at you questioningly after they pull apart, and you send him a small, nervous smile.

Damn it, Maria.

“You must be the friend she mentioned,” He says, again looking to the blonde beside you for confirmation. “From college, yeah?”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever stunned stupor she’d been in, and she tunes back into your conversation by, again, pulling you into her. “My best friend,” She swoons, and yeah. She’s definitely drunk now.

“Nice to meet you,” He’s chuckling, and seems to be familiar with her antics. “I’m Martin.”

You introduce yourself and shake his offered hand. “Any leftover shots, by any chance?” While taking the lead in conversation with people you’ve never met before might seem odd, you don’t think you can rely on Maria to socialize for you considering she’s already falling into your side.

“I can check, if you want to follow me—ah, shit,” Martin curses, suddenly, then quickly apologizes to the two of you before rushing over to a man with a mustache attempting to climb on top of a table.

“Interesting friends, Maria,” You say into her ear as you reluctantly follow him, keeping her close. “Who’s the one with the mustache?”

She seems to gain a little bit of her wits back to give you a description of all the guys within your eyesight. “The mustache is Seth, super friendly but also, uh… Super drunk. He’s Canadian.”

You’re not sure why you need to know his nationality, but she continues before you can ask.

“And you just met Martin, right? Yeah, he’s really nice. His girlfriend, Nykki, is gorgeous, they’re both from Czechia. Then there’s the really tall one, behind Seth? No, other side. Yeah, that’s Jesperi. A bit of a flirt even though we’re all pretty sure he has a girlfriend, but he still won’t admit it. He’s Finnish.”

Maria continues to describe a few of the others, but truthfully, you tune out after Jesperi because a man about the same height as the Finn is suddenly approaching the group, and looks to be the only one Seth listens to because that’s who gets him to crawl down from the table.

You don’t know why he catches your attention so suddenly, but something about him… He turns, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Immediately, you come to find there’s no accurate word to describe him. His beauty simply transcends any compliment you could give; instead, you interrupt your friend from her spiel.

“Hey Mare, Mare—who’s that?” Slapping her arm, you point towards the now-laughing stranger. He’s looking around as he does so, which is when he makes contact with your starstruck eyes. He looks amused, then seems to recognize the blonde beside you, and then he’s cutting through the crowd to meet you.

Maria gives you a look before also spotting the approaching stranger, and a large smile lights up her face. It’s a smile you’re very familiar with, one that enraptures every man who catches a glimpse of her pearly whites.

You quickly come to the conclusion that this is why she was so eager to go out. She’s likely had her eye on him for a while, and you struggle to keep the disappointment from your face as she purrs his name.

“Hey, Andrei,” She says, a little giggly. “Great game today, you all played awesome.”

Andrei… You test the name silently, liking the way it feels on your tongue. He’s even taller up close, and you can see the muscle definition straining through the fabric of his shirt. He’s huge, and you feel incredibly small standing next to him.

“Thank you,” He replies, his voice deep. A little husky, definitely accented, but you’re not sure from where. “Who’s your friend?” He changes topic quickly, and those dark eyes are back on you once again.

Maria, as ditzy as she can be, does notice the subtle change in him. Andrei has never been overly flirty with her like she has with him, and she’d be an idiot not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to you the moment he spotted you.

She’s used to having all sorts of attention from the opposite sex, and the Russian hockey player is all sorts her type. It’s amusing though, watching how you melt under his gaze, thinks ‘me too’, and then decides to help you out.

“This is my friend from college,” She introduces you, says your name and watches as he takes it in like it’s very important information. Grabbing your hand from where it rests at your side, she holds it out to Andrei for you, snickers as you send her a glare. “And this is Andrei. He plays for the Carolina Hurricanes.”

This is why she asked you if you watch sports, you suddenly connect the dots. And why she was telling you where all these people are from. Her friends from work are actually sports players, and you understand why she didn’t say it outright.

These guys, they’re famous, right? Your stomach twists, and you suck in a breath as Andrei takes your hand. His palm envelops yours, and he brings it to his lips to press a heated kiss to your skin.

The greeting is outdated, but for whatever reason it suits him. You think the kiss is a promise, too, as his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

“That’s hockey, right?” You intend to ask Maria, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of Andrei as he slowly lets go of you, like the contact is riveting for him, too. “In the NHL?”

“Yes,” He answers. “You don’t watch?” You’re not a fan like he’d expect. Strangely enough, he likes that you don’t follow them. It makes you all the more interesting, someone new to pick apart for his pleasure.

You flush, turning red under his unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, you feel out of place with your lackluster hockey knowledge. “Not a huge sports girl, unfortunately.” You say slowly, but he catches your quiet words anyway.

He’s already tuned into you—has made you into a new game to win, in his mind.

“I can fix that.” Andrei grins, and it’s almost predatory as he smoothly slides his left arm around your waist. “Do you mind if I steal her?” He directs his question to Maria, but doesn’t really give her a chance to answer before pulling you away.

Turning your head, you find her sending you a grin as she mouths something encouraging, holding up two thumbs-ups. She’s already decided that if she can’t have this sexy Russian, she wants you to instead.

“I like your heels,” His deep voice is in your ear, suddenly, and you take your eyes off of Maria to look up at Andrei, instead. “They’re the color of our jerseys.”

“Thank you,” You breathe, letting the warmth from his compliment wash over you. “Maria made me wear them.”

He clicks his tongue, like this information doesn’t surprise him. “She has good taste. Red is definitely your color.”

You flush again, finding that his eyes are already on you when you tilt your head up. Nobody has ever told you that before… Maria is always the one getting praise, not you.

The fast beating of your heart, shaky limbs and nervous breath, and you already know you’re falling for it. His charm, his looks, his confidence; it’s addicting, and you can’t force yourself to stop as you ever so slightly lean into him, letting his body envelop you.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the bar, and Andrei orders a drink over the loud bass that reverberates in your ears. It appears moments later - not fair - and then he’s sliding it towards you. You meet his eyes again as he smiles, raising a brow at your silence before he gestures to take it.

“For you,” He says. “Vodka cranberry. I have a feeling you like the fruity drinks, no?”

He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it. You’re not one for sipping hard, bitter liquor, even if it gets the job done. You’re not sure how you feel about him being able to read you so well, but you do like not having to carry the conversation.

“Am I that transparent?” You grin, though it’s laced with insecurity as you take a sip. It’s good, and helps calm your nerves.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, malyshka. It’s not a bad thing.”

You wouldn’t know it then, but he already began patronizing you the moment you met him. The Russian language is full of double-meanings, and malyshka, little one, is rather mocking. For him to know you so well already was a good thing for him, but for you? Not so much.

Andrei sees right through you, and he has from the very beginning.

“You’re not American, are you?” You change topic, suddenly, using the unfamiliar term he used as an excuse. “Your accent, it’s foreign.”

“Net—no, I’m not. Most of my teammates are out of country.” He replies. “I’m from Russia. Just here to play hockey.”

“Do you like it? Here in Raleigh?” You ask, a pitiful form of small talk to keep this sudden tension at bay.

“I do.” He replies. “I like it a whole lot more now that I’ve met you, though.” And then he’s smiling again, a grin rather feral as he looks at you like you’re his prey waiting to be devoured. He’s incredibly smooth as he puts his hands back on you, one sliding around the circumference of your waist while the other brings your hand holding the drink to his lips, taking a sip from the glass.

Your eyes go half-lidded at the motion, and Andrei knows he has you—hook, line, and sinker. He loves this game, but he thinks he likes you a little bit more than that, too.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“You just met me,” You blurt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

Andrei, to his credit, takes your nervousness in stride. He finds it cute that he has that effect on you. “And I like you,” He counters, flashing a dazzling smile. “You’re cute. Small, like kisa.”

“Kisa?” You try out the unfamiliar word, your attempt at a Russian accent definitely not as sexy as his.

“Kitten,” He translates. “Will you purr for me?” It’s so disgustingly cheesy you can’t help but grimace, and Andrei laughs at the look on your face.

He steps closer, even more than he was before, and the way he looks down on you only makes the difference in height that much more noticeable. He’s so big… Normally you’d feel caged, but with him it feels safe, and that’s probably a red flag you won’t discover until much later.

You struggle finding something to say, but he beats you to it. “I’d like your number, if you’re willing to give it.” And he’s so smooth, so conniving with the way he asks it because he’s not demanding at all, letting you think you have all the power.

“Okay,” You breathe, eyes widening in awe as you don’t even have the chance to pull out your phone before he’s sliding his own into your hands. “You can add your contact.” He instructs, watching you type in your information.

It looks informal, your first and last name in his phone like you’re merely a coworker. You’ll blame it on you being tipsy later, but you add a smiley face at the end of your name, hoping it makes you stand out. You don’t know how many girls he has in his contacts but you’re not naive enough to think you’re the only one.

You lick your lips almost subconsciously as you hand Andrei his phone back, and he zeroes in on the motion. Suddenly, he has the urge to kiss you, and so he does just that. It catches you by surprise, but soon enough you’re melting into him as one large hand cradles your jaw, keeping you tilted up to him.

Andrei tastes like sin, like temptation and all things bad you were told to never get involved in as a kid. A forbidden fruit, perhaps, and there’s even hints of cranberry left on his tongue to cement that fact.

“Andrei…” You hum in surprise as he deepens the kiss, his lips soft and heavenly. It takes everything in you to pull back, to separate yourself from the addicting taste of him. “Wait, I don’t, um—”

You pause. Andrei looks confused, perhaps a little alarmed as his eyes flit over your face. “You don’t… Kiss anyone?”

“No! No,” You lower your voice, not wanting to attract any attention. “Of course I do. I just, I don’t hook up. For fun. Ever.”

He frowns, like he can’t fathom the idea that you don’t enjoy sex with no strings attached.

“Really,” he says, not quite a question. “You’re beautiful, though.” The charm comes back full force as his hand comes to brush away some of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Surely you have suitors, no?”

Your throat tightens, and suddenly your eyes are glassy as he looks at you with so much reassurance and affection. “Maria usually gets the ‘suitors’, not me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He responds immediately, and he looks so sure of himself as his head lowers, his eyes looking back and forth from yours to your lips, and you’re helpless to stop him as the hand moving your hair comes to rest on your cheek.

It’s all very convincing, the sudden care and adoration… You’ve never had a man treat you so delicate, like a prized possession, and you fall for it all too quickly.

“Let me take you out?” He soon asks, and there’s nothing you can really respond with other than yes.

Everything happens so quickly from here. Andrei becomes a centerpiece in your life, and you’re helpless to stop it as you fall for everything about him. You don’t truly become his ‘girlfriend’, but you are something more. Secret dates and midnight drives where no one can see you confirm that.

That’s why you think he’s finally turning serious about you when he shows up to your apartment at the beginning of March a few weeks before his playoffs start. He holds a large bouquet of roses, except your favorite flowers are gardenias because they remind you of your mom so your smile wobbles a little bit, but you let it slide for the romanticism of it all.

Andrei grins, the whites of his teeth blinding and he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. He asks you if you’ll come to his playoff games, wear a WAG jacket and act as if what you are is official. You think you truly mean something to him after this, even though he never actually confirms it.

Suddenly you’re Andrei’s girl (but not really) and it becomes your entire identity. You essentially live with him as the playoffs come around, taking care of his apartment while he’s on the road. He talks of getting a dog over the summer, and you’re enthusiastic in your encouragement because you’ll have a friend to keep you company while he’s on the road.

His injury happens, though, and he’s out for good, at least for the rest of the season. You don’t know how to comfort him because your ‘relationship’ is so new, and it’s hard for you to understand why the anger at himself cuts so deep.

Ultimately, you fix the rough patch with sex. Lots and lots of sex. He works through his frustrations by taking you long, hard, and deep, mostly with him on top holding your throat while you take it like the good girl he tells you you are.

“‘Drei, your leg,” You remember saying to him one time as he slams you onto his bed, rolling directly on top of you. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, too busy laying kisses to your neck.

“I don’t care.” He eventually responds, looking at you so darkly it leaves you shivering. He eats you out afterwards, and, well—you don’t have any more protests after that.

They win the first series against the New York Islanders in six games, and the moment the final goal is scored in overtime you’re jumping out of your seat along with the other WAG’s at one of their houses.

It’s exhilarating, rooting for something with every ounce of your being. You do it for Andrei - who still isn’t playing, but he was there watching - but mostly for yourself because you love the feeling of belonging to a community so close.

The second series ends sooner than the first, a five game victory over the New Jersey Devils, and this time you are at that final game. You sit with Andrei in a private booth at the top of PNC Arena, gripping his arm that also holds onto your thigh with the same amount of intensity.

The moment the final goal is scored - also in overtime - you’re hunching over your seat releasing a long breath. Andrei attempts to rise, then likely remembers his leg which forces him to grip the arms of his chair in strained acceptance.

“They did it,” You hear him whisper, like he can’t believe they actually came out of this series alive. “They did it.” He repeats himself, louder and more confident. You’re still folded over yourself, letting the anxiety drain out of you when he grabs your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“My kisa,” He says, waiting for you to turn your head so he can smile brilliantly at you. “We did it.”

“Not we,” And you grin back, because there’s nothing else for you to do but match his ecstasy. “You did it.”

“I didn’t even play,” Andrei is laughing, soaking in your praise like a sponge. “But I was here, wasn’t I?”

“You mean more to them than you’ll ever know.” More to me than you’ll ever know, you want to say, but hold back on that particular vulnerability.

After he finishes the team meeting in the locker room, you take him back to his house. He still hasn’t been given the all clear to drive, so you’ve taken up caretaker duties along with his mother.

You don’t think she likes you very much, either, but Andrei just says it takes a while for her to warm up to new people. Thankfully, she’s never around when you are though, because as you close the front door to his house he gives you a look equating to a meal he wants to devour.

Andrei seems to forget all about his knee, again, when he moves into you, pushing you back against the front door. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles into your lips, and you don’t think you’re meant to respond as he moves to your neck.

You wore his jersey tonight, hoping it would bring the team good luck. You also happen to like how possessive he gets when he sees you in his clothes, especially wearing his name. It’s a little ridiculous, but you can’t lie and say you don’t love the attention.

Biting into your jugular, he tastes your rapidly beating heart before moving on, addicted to the sound of the moan that chokes its way out of your throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He breathes, massaging his hands into your waist as he pulls you away from the door. “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? Because you’re such a good girl. My good girl.” His raspy voice leaves you holding back a whimper, and it’s hard to speak as he begins to sneak his hands under your jersey.

When you don’t respond because you’re too distracted by his hands, his damn hands, trailing up your ribs, he digs his fingers harshly into your skin. Your eyes snap open to find him almost glaring.

“Yes,” You think he wants to hear you say. “I’m yours.” You babble as his fingers let up, moving to cup your breasts over your bra as he pinches your nipples into hard points.

“That’s right,” He hums almost mockingly, hands now back to your waist as he pulls you after him to the path of his room. “No one else can make you feel like I do, yeah?”

This time he doesn’t expect a response as he pushes his door open, turning you around as you fall into his bed. Your head spins as the jersey you’re wearing rides up and Andrei quickly does the rest, slipping it off you with ease.

“Fuck,” You think he says, but you could care less as his bare hands are back on you, kneading the soft skin of your stomach and trailing back up the length of your torso. “No shirt underneath?”

“It was too hot outside,” You reply, breathless as you attempt to tug his suit and tie off, but that quickly proves to be more difficult. He tsks, thankfully deciding to aid you as he rids himself of his jacket. “You’re lucky that jersey is so thick.” He says, moreso to himself as he begins unbuttoning his slacks.

All that’s left is his undershirt and boxers, meanwhile you’re still left in your bra, jeans, and panties. Andrei must realize this too as he kicks his slacks off somewhere behind him. “Strip,” He commands, but you don’t need the reminder as you’re already one step ahead of him.

Your jeans and panties come off quickly, but it’s harder to remove your bra lying down. You eye the delicious specimen of a man above you, reaching out your hand for his own. “Help me?” You ask, biting your bottom lip before rolling onto your stomach.

Andrei mutters something behind you, but it’s clearly appraisal as the first thing his hands land on is your bare ass. He spends a few moments appreciating the view before his fingers trail up your back, unclipping your bra much quicker than you ever could have.

“You, kisa, are dangerous,” He teases, lowering himself to where his solid chest is pressing down on your back. He loves taking you from behind, tangling his hands in your hair while you’re left to his mercy.

He noses his way past your hair to reach your neck, lightly nipping the skin as you sigh, your head melting to the side so he can continue his ministrations.

“Andrei, please,” You hiss, the wetness between your thighs now too prominent to ignore. You wiggle your hips tantalizingly, hoping to catch his attention.

He grins into your neck, doesn’t respond as he presses a final kiss to your pulse point before pulling back, his right hand sweeping the rest of your hair to the side.

“You need me to touch you?” He asks, smoothing his left hand over your hip before slipping it to the inside of your thighs. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it ever so lightly to feel you flinch with sensitivity underneath him.

You tremble underneath him as he continues stroking you, and your hips jerk upward when two of his fingers slip past your walls and curl. He’s laughing as your ears ring, and already you’re so close to coming when his thumb rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his hand.

Just like everything else about you, though, he knows; he knows and he pulls back before you even have the chance to swear because then the last layer of clothing between you is gone. His boxers are thrown somewhere behind him along with his undershirt, and now he wastes no time pulling your hips up, leaving your chest pressed into the bed.

So used to this familiar position, you look behind you in anticipation to find him stroking his cock, staring at your glistening pussy with barely contained arousal. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for, but then he’s sliding his free hand through your soaked lips to gather the wetness there, using it as lubricant.

“Shit,” He says, swearing more to himself before climbing atop you. It’s routine the way he grabs your hair, tangles it in his fingers while the other guides his swollen cock to your entrance. The bulbous head pushes into you with ease, finding no resistance as he sinks into you.

Andrei hisses, mutters something in Russian, then is lowering his head to press his lips to your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight. You just feel so good all the time, you know that, kisa?”

The only sound capable of coming out your mouth is a whimper as you bury your face into the sheets as his hips begin thrusting, hitting your sweet spot with bullseye accuracy each time.

The girth of him stretches you out deliciously, and it leaves your walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically in time with his movements. You mold to him like your body was made for him, like there’s no other way to exist without him taking you in such primal fashion.

Andrei’s head rests in the crook of your neck, murmuring indiscernible phrases while his hands trail up and down your body. His hips rut against your clit each time he thrusts forward, and if anything you get wetter at the thought of him fucking you so callously.

You feel like his most precious belonging sometimes, like an object. It can be disorienting when he talks to you like you’re a child, but when he fucks you it’s like that preciousness he views you with is amplified.

You flinch upward when his cock curves into you just right, and the way he coos into your ear to bring you back down only verifies that thought. He wants to take care of you, always—even if it demeans you.

Andrei suddenly rolls over onto his back, bringing you with him to where you’re the one on top with your back laying against his chest. He sits up, and now you’re in his lap, thighs spread to the side as he once again begins fucking into you.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as your head rolls back onto his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock into deeper lengths inside you, and it hurts but it hurts so good and why were you ever questioning how he treats you, again?

How has only one man ever been able to make you feel this good?

Euphoria floods your veins as his hands find purchase on your body, one taking your left tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other sneaks down to the junction of your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing over it mercilessly.

When your stomach starts clenching and your lower spine tingles, Andrei is right back at your ear whispering encouragement. “That’s it, angel,” He praises. “That’s it. You want to come, yeah? Do it. I’ve got you.”

His name leaves your mouth as a breathless whine, and you struggle not to flinch away from his touch when it becomes too much but also not enough, and somehow he knows this and just holds you tighter.

When his cock hits you so deliciously good while his thumb swipes over your clit, you fall. You fall hard, the walls of your cunt seizing around him as ecstasy takes over your body. Sparks fly across your skin, stars filling the empty blackness behind your closed eyes and you think you’re sobbing Andrei’s name but you can’t be sure. The only thing you can be sure of is him; his cock inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, his teeth on your neck as he approaches his high.

Yours lasts for longer than normal because he doesn’t stop moving—if anything, he goes faster, because the sight and feeling of sending you into a spiral only triggers his own release.

By now you’re motionless, unable to even lift your head as it remains lying against his shoulder. Andrei’s thrusts are frenzied, more sloppy and less precise, until he’s throwing his own back with a long, pleasure-filled groan.

Eventually, he stills. His chest is rising and falling behind you rapidly, attempting to collect himself now that his mind is back in the present. You sigh, quietly yet happy, as his cock softens inside you but doesn’t move, his release slowly trickling down your conjoined bodies.

You suddenly remember that he didn’t lose a condom, but then you remind yourself that you’d stopped using condoms weeks before. You were already on birth control, and he assured you this was exclusive.

You were a fool to believe him.

Andrei soon moves, his hands taking to your hips as he gently lifts you off of him. “I know,” He says when you hiss with sensitivity. “I’ve got you, good girl…” He lays you on your back, and you don’t move from your position even as he leaves the room.

Your eyes soon flutter shut, and you curl to the side as the minutes go by with no sign of return. It’s not regret that fills your mind, no, but another emotion, something stronger than just satisfaction at getting such a pleasurable release.

You don’t dare to think of the world ‘love’, but maybe something similar to that is what you’re feeling?

It doesn’t help that just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, Andrei comes back to your naked form while he’s now adorned in sweatpants. You merely hum as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you, one of his hands reaching out to trail up your arm. When he reaches your face he brushes away the hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead from cooling sweat, letting your skin breathe.

He says something, so quiet it’s impossible to hear over the sound of your thundering heart, and you don’t have the energy to ask as you finally succumb to exhaustion.

Andrei cleans you up after, dries the inside of your legs and slides one of his t-shirts over you. He tucks you under his sheets and pulls you into his arms, letting your hair tickle his cheeks.

The Eastern Conference Final arrives far quicker than any of you are prepared for, and games one and two against the Florida Panthers are full of anxious nail-biting and frustrated cursing when the puck hits the goal post.

Both games end in overtime losses, and the team has to play games three and four in enemy territory, down by two.

Andrei, understandably, isn’t taking it well. It's hard for the players on the ice, of course, but even harder when he has to sit at the sidelines, hidden in a booth at the top of the arena with you doing your best to comfort him.

“Why can’t they just fucking score?” You remember him hissing before the end of regulation in game two, not angry at his teammates but at the situation instead.

And himself, too, because he is the injured one. He is the one who tore his ACL making it so that he couldn’t play. It isn’t his fault, but it is at the same time and that’s what’s truly getting to him.

As the timer hit zero, he’d leaned back in his chair and grabbed your hand without thought, squeezing your fingers to the point of strangulation.

You let him, though, because at that point you’d let him do anything.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes on him the entire time. It pained you to see him so miserable, and there was nothing you could do to make it better. “This isn’t your fault. It’s… Blame Bobrovsky, okay? He’s just too—”

You interrupted yourself, not wanting to say ‘good’ even if that’s true because you didn’t want to upset him with the implication that his teammates couldn’t be better.

Andrei, to give him credit, didn’t take offense. His eyes were on you the moment you started your ramble, and as you finally paused to gauge the look on his face you found amusement and unbridled affection in his gaze.

“Too good?” He finished your sentence, waiting for your meek nod of confirmation. Merely sighing, he only brought your intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand. “You’re right, kisa. He is too good.”

You stay back in Raleigh while the team, including Andrei, takes flight to Sunrise, Florida. Most of the WAG’s stay back too, the majority already anticipating the result of this series.

Hours after the team’s flight, Maria calls you late on the eve of game three.

“Hey, Mare!” You answer, lowering the volume of whatever show is on the television to better hear her. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl!” She chirps, and you can hear voices in the background so you assume she’s somewhere busy. “Just landed in Florida!”

“You flew to Florida?” You ask, choking slightly. “Since when?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you! The team needed extra people since we’re staying here for longer than a night.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Is all you say because you don’t, in fact, remember, and suddenly feel really guilty about it. You haven’t actually spoken to Maria face-to-face in weeks, having been caught up in everything Andrei-related.

You haven’t talked to lots of people you were close to before Andrei came into the picture, now that you think about it. It’s a problem you’re sure to reflect on when you’re done talking to your friend.

“...bunch of us are going out tonight since the game isn’t until later tomorrow night, including a lot of the team.”

Maria’s voice tunes back in, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts to catch-up. “Really?” You inquire, now suddenly interested. “Is Andrei going with them?”

You could ask him yourself, sure, but you don’t really talk about that stuff, what he does or what you do in your free time. It always felt invasive to ask because you weren’t quite sure if you even had the right to, considering the nature of your relationship.

You doubt he thinks about what you do when you’re not with him, anyway, so you always just assume you can live in the moment with him and have that be good enough.

“Dunno,” She replies. “Can’t you ask him yourself? You’re seeing the man, after all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice at the last sentence.

“Um,” You stall, because no, you can’t just ask. “He just got off the plane, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mhm,” Maria hums, and you can’t tell if she’s suspicious or not by her tone alone. “True. I’ll just text you if anything interesting happens, okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You can’t help but laugh at her sudden hastiness, and soon enough she’s hanging up the phone with the claim that the team bus is there to take her to the hotel.

As your call with Maria is in the early afternoon, you have a while to wait before all night life in Florida begins, so any updates will take time to roll in. You know this, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

Distracting yourself by shopping helps, as does meeting up with a few of the WAG’s for a late lunch. You’re able to put your anxiety in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, and as the sun sets you pull back up to Andrei’s house and let yourself in with the spare key given to you, mind at peace as you float around his living space in preparation for bed.

You almost considered his place your home now, rather than your actual apartment. You’ve been spending so much time here, with him and also alone as everything with him seems to be going so good… When you settle into his bed, wearing one of Andrei’s large t-shirts and boxers, you check your phone one last time for any updates.

There’s a few Instagram notifications, one or two emails from your university, only one message in the groupchat with the WAG’s, and a text from Andrei which is what you zero in on first.

Settled in the hotel now. Leg is hurting, so I’m going to bed early tonight. Text you tomorrow, okay?

There’s no silly emojis, no indication of any emotion in his text, and yet you read the message with a smile, insecurities officially gone. His teammates are going out tonight, not him, and you don’t have to worry about Maria texting you later because there would be nothing to update you on.

How could you have ever doubted him?

You fall asleep peacefully, unbeknownst to the fact that long after midnight, your phone begins blowing up with silent notifications from Maria. She does, in fact, send you updates of her night out, but not updates you’ll smile at when you wake up the next day.

Sunlight filtered through closed eyes is what has you slowly awakening to the world of consciousness, and you stretch your arms with a yawn before reaching for your phone first thing. It’s hot to the touch, and at first you attribute that to it being stuck under your pillow the entire night, but upon unlocking the screen you discover that that is not the case.

WTF did you and Andrei break up?????

He’s here with the rest of the guys and he’s highkey flirting with some randos???

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were done w/ him!

You’re prettier than them btw. I snuck a few pics

Several more messages from Maria have taken over your inbox, those are just the first you see. It takes your brain a minute to catch-up, but when it finally does you’re sitting up with bated breath as you tap on one of the images she sent.

It’s definitely Andrei—you’d know his face anywhere. He is, in fact, surrounded by girls in the picture, his arm wrapped around the waist of a gorgeous blonde with a drink in his other hand, and it’s so reminiscent of the way he holds you at clubs that you know, you know immediately that this is what you meant to him all along.

The affectionate name-calling, gentle hand-holding and constant touching… You thought he looked back at you like you hung the moon, but now you’re realizing that maybe you were just projecting the reflection of your own starstruck eyes instead.

You sit up in bed, hand pressed to your forehead as a sudden headache rips through your brain. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Remembering that you’re actually in this man’s house, in his clothes, too, has you jumping up like you’ve been burned, and you quickly exit the bedroom to collapse on the couch instead.

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief as you click through more of the images sent to you from last night. There’s no denying to yourself that he was with these women, all while supposedly having a significant other waiting for him at home.

There’s no one to witness the slow breakdown of your sanity, and you can’t even cry because you’re so in shock about what you’re seeing

Is this real? Are you real? Is this really happening?

It’s almost like a switch in your brain goes off, and very quickly you drop your phone. You take a deep breath, you bury your raging emotions, and you stand up from the couch to start your day.

You refuse to allow yourself to break down now. Not when you still haven’t spoken to him. At the very least you’ll wait until you have an explanation…

To confront him on your very strong feelings you’ve been doing your best to ignore until now, because they’re too real in the wake of this discovery to just vanish away like you’ve done before.

You need to know where you stand with him. Truly, because these pictures you can’t stop thinking about? It’s too much. You can’t pretend it doesn’t feel like thousands of little knives stabbing your heart repeatedly even if it all means nothing to him.

Everything goes back to normal. Everything is fine. You never saw those pictures, ignored Maria's continuing calls and acted as if your world wasn’t suddenly tilted on its axis.

Andrei doesn’t text you at all throughout the day, which can probably be attributed to preparation of game three, but all you can think about are the girls he might be texting.

Because he certainly isn’t texting you.

Game three results in a loss, a bad one, and it would pain you to see the reactions on their faces filtered through the television if you weren’t so numb.

He still doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call, either, and Maria eventually gives up on trying to reach you as game four approaches.

The impending doom of Andrei bares down on you like a vice, slowly strangling you in the screaming silence of his house you still remain in. Maybe this is something you should have seen coming because it isn’t the first time he’s gone radio silent, you just assumed he was busy—because that’s what he told you.

You’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have listened.

You love him though, right? That’s why you believed him? That’s what you’re feeling right now, why it’s like you can barely breathe when you think of his smile or the way he’s betrayed you so?

The Panthers sweep the Hurricanes, a complete four-game victory that sends Andrei and the rest of the team licking their wounds all the way back to North Carolina. You don’t watch the fourth game with anyone but yourself and a bottle of wine while catching up on homework for one of your classes.

Becoming so close to Andrei meant you became close to the rest of his teammates too, to the point where you’d consider some of them your good friends, so seeing their faces broadcasted live after the final goal is devastating to see.

Not as devastating as the text you receive, though, in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to him the moment he steps foot inside his house.

I won’t be home tonight, heading straight out with some of the younger guys. I will see you tomorrow

Well. You can’t say you’re surprised. You’re willing to bet money he’s out sleeping with some random girl whose name he won’t remember the next day. Instead of letting the anxiety take over, anger takes its place instead.

And boy do you run with it because anger is so much better than feeling powerless. It simmers in your blood, a wildfire settling low in your stomach until you’re practically shaking while waiting for Andrei to walk through the front door the next day.

When he finally does, you’re so mad you’re numb. Your anger has turned you into a ghost, an attempt at protecting your fragile heart from more heartbreak likely to fall upon you the moment he tries to charm you back into his good graces.

Once he spots you sitting on the couch, he smiles in greeting. It’s soft, and you’d like to say affectionate, but you no longer can tell how deep his feelings run for you.

Clearly, not deep enough.

“Kisa,” He says. “How are you? I’m sorry I was out late.”

“It’s fine,” You respond tightly. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice, merely nods before walking past you to the kitchen. You follow him silently, trying to figure out how to phrase your next words.

You end up settling on a subtle approach. “I’m sorry about the games… I know it must’ve sucked having to watch.”

He scoffs immediately, mutters something you don’t catch but still doesn’t turn around to face you as he rummages through his fridge. “It definitely was not fun to sit there, no.” He replies.

“Is that why you didn’t come back last night? You were coping with the loss?” You’re hoping your strong reference to his late-night escapades will spark something in him, but alas you still seem to be wrong and all he does is cast you a furtive glance before going back to his business.

God, you were just going to have to wring this out of him, weren’t you?

“Andrei,” You start, taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t stir. “Andrei, I know.”

Finally, he stops. Pauses mid-motion of whatever he’s doing, and his shoulders seem to tense in preparation of your foreboding words.

“There’s other girls, right? It’s not just me?” Your voice is already wobbling, and you’re glad he’s still refusing to face you because your eyes are slowly filling with tears, the agony of these last few days catching up to you.

This is when Andrei finally turns around. He meets your eyes last after scanning up and down your body; the clothes you’re wearing that aren’t his, your nails digging into your hands, and finally the bright flush of your face as you struggle not to explode.

“What do you mean?” Is what he says, looking at you calculatingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Drei,” You whisper, invisible wires constricting around your throat as you force yourself to continue speaking. “Maria told me. She saw you. And you lied to me.”

Andrei doesn’t speak. He just stares, fingers clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide if he should approach you or not. After what seems like hours of silent battle, he replies, starting out by saying your name like a warning. “She… Maria had no right to tell you that.”

“Because I’m not actually your girlfriend, right?” Your response is immediate, and it hurts him if the flinch on his face is anything to go by. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a title, responsibility. You never promised me any of that so sleeping with other girls is perfectly okay.”

Everything you’re saying is true but it’s all wrong the way you’re looking at each other. Tears are now openly streaming down your cheeks and Andrei hasn’t moved since the moment you opened your mouth.

“Nothing to say?” It’s defeated, your entire demeanor as your shoulders sag and you fight the urge to collapse. “Yeah. I—I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei whispers, and he doesn’t fight you which makes it all the more devastating. Everything you’re saying is true and it’s still all so wrong but he isn’t fighting you and wow, you’re really about to lose him, aren’t you?

“I think the worst part of this for me is that I actually let myself fall in love with you.” It’s your last-ditch effort of getting something out of him, anything that proves this isn’t completely one-sided on your end.

Andrei looks gutted at that. But he steels his resolve, his eyes go cold and he clenches his jaw as you try, one last time, to reach him.

“Do you love me?”

He’s staring at the wall behind you. No words fall from the lips you’ve kissed a thousand times until they finally do, and this is when you come to the realization that you’re ruined. You won’t ever look at another man the same because Andrei will forever haunt you in everything that you are and what you do.

“No. I don’t.”

You don’t put up much of a fight after that. You wave your white flag and slip past him to grab the small bag you’d packed earlier in preparation.

Andrei doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen once. His face is tight, eyes dark and anguished as you drop his spare key on the counter. You look at him one last time, will him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

He never does—so you leave and you don’t look back.

It hurts worse because there really wasn’t a fight. There was no screaming, breaking glass, hurling insults at each other; it was a quiet acceptance of the end of a relationship that had no chance of lasting.

That’s what gets you. Not just because it’s over, but because he doesn’t love you like you love him.

You can’t believe you let yourself fall for it.

When you finally make it back to your apartment it feels like walking into an alternate reality, especially after an agonizing drive back full of nothing but silence and your thoughts.

You’ve practically lived with Andrei the last few months so much that you’ve forgotten you had a life before him. Maria comes to your mind immediately at that thought, and you can’t think of anything else you need more right now than your best friend.

Her phone only rings twice before she picks up. She says your name warily, likely because she hasn’t heard a word from you in two days.

“Hey,” You whimper, and you hate that you can tell how broken you sound. “Um, you were right. About Andrei. I… Talked to him about it. We’re done.”

There’s silence on the other end for several moments. Then:

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing the fattest bottle of wine known to man, okay?”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears.

“Don’t respond, you can’t say no. I’ll see you in a few!”

And, well, you do nothing but let her hang up as you stare at your blank lock screen for a minute. Something possesses you to try and freshen up even though it’s just Maria, so you make your way to your bathroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, your tear-stained eyes the same color red as the lipstick you wore the first time you met him. The same red of your heart, too, as you feel the shattering of it now more than ever.

It all goes back to him. Everything about you, your identity as ‘his girl’ reducing you to someone who doesn’t exist without him.

Fuck you, Andrei, you want to yell. Fuck you and fuck everything you put me through.

As you furiously rub your eyes, you realize you don’t know who you are anymore. You let yourself be molded into an unfamiliar version of yourself, into someone just for Andrei to want to keep around.

The tears start again, and you’re left sniffling in the suffocating silence of your bathroom. The only person who knew you, the you now, is gone.

And suddenly, you find yourself alone.

Well… Not totally alone. “Fuck him!” Maria shouts after she breaks into your apartment (she has your spare key) after you’d collapsed onto your couch and refused to open the door. “Seriously, fuck him. You’re way too good for him.”

“Weren’t you the one who convinced me to sleep with him in the first place?” Is your weak rebuttal, muffled and almost imperceptible as your head is burrowed in a pillow.

Your friend tsks, likely waving her arms around in that expressive way she does. “Yes, well. I never claimed to see the future. But now we know him for the piece of shit he is!”

Maria is your closest friend, yes, but you also know her to be someone who tells you what you want to hear. Right now, you’re feeling vengeful and angry, so she’s feeding into those emotions to make you feel better.

You know, in two months time or however long it takes you to process this, when you start missing him and tiptoe around the idea of calling him, she’ll support you then, too.

Which probably isn’t what you need, but, whatever. You’re just grateful you have someone on your side.

“I need…” You start, not quite sure how to phrase what you’re wanting. “I need to forget.”

“A one nightstand type of forget or get so drunk you pass out type of forget?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of sleeping with someone so soon. As much as you hate it, you don’t think you’ll ever stop craving Andrei’s body.

No man ever could make you feel that good…

“Get drunk,” You say, quirking a small smile at the whoop she lets out. “I can’t fuck someone right now. At least not yet.”

“Yeah,” The blonde agrees, sighing almost wistfully. “I’d feel the same if I knew what his dick felt like.”

“Maria!” You shriek, throwing a spare pillow as hard as you can her way. It misses, but does the job of lightening the mood and keeps you giggling the rest of the night.

She does her job in making you forget, though. Makes you put on one of your shortest dresses and gets you drink after drink until you’re hunched over a toilet in the back of some bar gagging your stomach out.

You wake up the next day with the worst hangover ever, but Maria is fairing the same and somehow you consider it worth it. Maybe you can live your life again without him.

You’ve done it before, right?

And really, it’s ridiculous when you let yourself think about how you’d only been seeing the man for five months and he completely managed to send your world careening in that timespan. So, you don’t let yourself think about it. Instead, you live.

For yourself, for your friends, for your heart that won’t ever be full but feels a little bit better every time you wake up each day without Andrei next to you.

You graduate university with your bachelor’s and get a job that’s even better than your last, and you make a really good group of friends at said-job without Maria’s help (though she’ll always be your best). The summer passes by with melancholy laughter and gentle healing, and while your first love always remains in the back of your mind, you think about him less.

So much less that you lose track of time, not even realizing that October of twenty twenty-three is here and the NHL season is starting back up. You haven’t spoken to any of the WAG’s since you broke it off with Andrei, assuming you would no longer be welcome in the ‘clique’ and preferring to separate yourself from a group associated with someone who brought you so much pain, so there haven’t been any reminders about the new season from them.

The memories of him are fleeting. They’ll come to you at random times, and now that you’ve lived in the past yet again, you can forget about the end where Andrei is a distant thought but every time his name is brought up it squeezes your heart so much you can’t breathe.

You’re doing better. Truly, you are. You’d stopped crying over him long ago, and you might have gone to class with swollen eyes and showed up to work despondent, but you’re working through it in your own way. Healing isn’t linear but you’re making progress slowly but surely.

One day, you wake up with a sudden determination to officially ‘get back out there’, per Maria’s words. There’s nothing spectacular about this day; it’s only mid-November, the weather in that awkward stage of autumn morphing into winter.

Maybe it’s because the night before you’d succumbed to the urge to search up the Hurricanes’ schedule, curious to when they’d be home and not.

It’s only a coincidence that they have a home game when you call your friends from work, asking if they’d like to go out after everyone gets off. It’s also a coincidence when you meet someone at said-bar you attend, and it’s absolutely insane how if you squint he kind of looks like Andrei.

Oh, but he’s so, so sweet… His name is Jack and he buys you and your friends drinks, keeps a respectful distance yet never strays far when you’re wrapped into another conversation. He asks for your number at the end of the night and you give it to him without hesitation, taking note of the way he creates your contact in his phone himself.

“You like cats?” He asks as he’s still typing away, and your breath catches in your throat because it’s a question that makes you think of the first night you met him. When you don’t respond, he gestures towards your keychain attached to the strap of your handbag.

“You have little kittens on your keychain. I think that’s what I’ll add to your name, yeah?” Jack laughs a little shyly, and it’s cute but you keep replaying kisa in your mind over and over in a Russian accent you never could quite imitate.

“Yeah, I do like cats,” You say, flushing at the sudden amusement in his eyes. “I like them a lot.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time texting you the next day, and the normalcy of it freaks you out a little. Where’s the anxiety? The stomach-dropping nerves that come with talking to someone new? The constant wondering if they like you or not?

It’s so safe and secure that it hurts, because it was never like that before.

Everyone in your life is so supportive, though, but that only makes it worse because they can see how good this man is for you, but why can’t you? You feel like pulling your hair out when he texts you good morning and goodnight and sick to your stomach when he shows up during your lunch break with flowers.

However, there’s no one is more enthusiastic about Jack's new presence in your life than Maria.

“He’s a dream guy, honestly,” She swoons, kicking her feet back on her ottoman. “You’re so lucky. I would kill for a guy I met at a bar to be so smitten with me he shows up to my job with flowers.”

You hum in agreement, unable to come up with something to say. “He… Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

The blonde eyes you from where you’re curled up on her couch, deliberately avoiding her stare as you mindlessly watch whatever is on the TV. “You guess? He’s perfect!”

“On paper,” You retort, huffing slightly in frustration at yourself because why can’t you see what everyone else sees? “I don’t really know him.”

“Yet. You don’t really know him yet.” She helpfully points out. “Why don’t you want to give him a chance?”

“I… I do. I am giving him a chance. Maybe I’m just not feeling it.”

“He’s not Andrei, babe.”

You fight the powerful urge to scoff. I know, you want to scream. I know. That’s the problem.

Jack is too perfect for you. You want the ups and downs, the electrifying chemistry, the undeniable connection you’ve felt with no one else before. You crave the feeling of those past five months, of being with someone who lit you up to your very core.

It’s been almost eight months and you still can’t get him out of your head.

You give Jack a rightful chance, though, like everyone in your life is begging you to. You can’t bring yourself to end it because there really is nothing wrong, it’s a perfect getting-to-know-you stage which checks off all the boxes. It’s just that you don’t want normal because normal is boring.

You want chaos. And Andrei is chaos personified.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria is still very good friends with a lot of the WAG’s and talks about you when they ask. They miss you, it turns out, but your friend never tells you this in fear of sending you into a depressive spiral that tends to happen when they’re brought up. They’re ecstatic to hear that your life seems to be going so well after the breakup, especially after seeing Andrei’s reaction to it all.

This is something Maria doesn’t tell you, either. She’s such a good friend, protecting your heart like that. Andrei did not come out of his house after you ended it the same person; he was a little darker, a little angrier, frustrated in a way that suggested nothing could be done to fix it.

It doesn’t help that he couldn’t take it out by playing hockey, because he wasn’t cleared to play until the end of October, a month into the regular season.

He never admits his sour mood is partly to blame you for. Not that it’s your fault—he’s the one who fucked up, not you.

Never you.

Maria knows all of this and still gives him the cold shoulder for his treatment of you. None of the girls were very happy after finding out while his teammates just gave him awkward pats on the back. It doesn’t stop him from finding out about you, though, and what you’re up to.

The WAG’s talk. They’re gossip machines, and while normally he hates them for it because he always has to watch what he says around them, this time he’s thankful because they tell their husbands and boyfriends everything.

He’s at Martin and his girlfriend, Nykki’s, apartment watching their cavapoo, Gigi, when he finds out you’re seeing someone new. They’re heatedly talking about something when they walk in and don’t see him on the floor cuddling Gigi, so he doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. It certainly took her a while to move on, didn’t it?”

He hears a smack, assumes Nykki has hit him on the arm like she typically does when he pisses her off. “She loved him, of course it took time!”

“Ow!” He hisses, though it’s clearly in jest. “Well, yeah, but like… It’s been months. And it’s not like she’s in contact with any of us anymore to remind her of him.” Andrei notes the sourness in his teammate’s voice, feels his heart drop because he thinks he knows who they’re talking about, now.

“Still,” Nykki replies. “I was so sad after my first heartbreak. They take a while to heal from, especially when it’s not a clean ending. It’s no secret how Andrei treated her.” She’s frowning when she continues. “I wish I could give her a hug, but I get it. I wouldn’t want to see any of us, either.”

Martin sighs. “I get it, too. I sure do miss the wine she’d bring though. She had the best fucking taste, ever.”

“Of course you only miss her for her alcohol.”

Andrei decides to clear his throat at this moment. When he does so, Martin and Nykki whip their heads towards him on the floor, surprise and guilt decorating their faces when they see him holding Gigi rather dejectedly.

He starts by saying your name, even surprises himself when it comes out biting and, dare he say it… Jealous? “She’s seeing someone?”

Martin and Nykki share a glance. Gigi chooses this as the time to leap up from his lap and run towards her parents where Martin happily picks her up. “I’m going to go take her out. Thanks for watching, ‘Drei!” He quickly flees the apartment, and Nykki says something under her breath as she glares after him.

They both know Andrei isn’t letting this go.

“Do you remember Maria, her friend? Works in the Hurricanes’ marketing department?” She eventually says, joining him on the floor.

“The blonde one? Yes,” He replies, and even though there are many blondes working for the team he knows exactly who she’s talking about. She’s your best friend, after all, and he knows everything about you.

Like how he knows you will never get over him. Conceited? Yes, but he had (has) you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, she talks to a lot of us still, despite everything that happened. And she tells us things.” Nykki pauses, almost like she’s scared to go on.

“Things like?” Andrei inquires. “How she is doing? Who she is doing?”

She glares at him then, eyes narrowing into slits. “Not that you really have a right to know, but yes.”

His fingers dig into his palms and his jaw cramps with how much he’s trying to keep from exploding.

“So, she’s seeing some guy now?” He scoffs like the very idea is incredulous. As if whatever pathetic excuse of a man you’re talking to could ever compare to him.

“She has a right to move on, Andrei. You should too. You ruined her.”

That fact remains true, but he still has no desire to ever let you go as he deliberately ignores her advice, well-meaning as it is.

How ruined could you really be if you’re already with somebody else?

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to run into you because you avoid him like the plague. You know everywhere he and his teammates frequent so you stopped showing up long ago, and he’s pretty sure you keep a several hundred-foot radius between you and PNC Arena at all times. He doesn’t blame you, but it pisses him off to know he can’t easily find you.

Christmas passes, you spend it with Jack and Andrei spends it with his Russian teammates. The New Year arrives just as quickly, and as he locks lips with some random girl at the party he’s at he thinks of you. Wonders who you’re with, if you’re kissing that guy Nykki told him about.

You actually flew back home to spend it with your parents, giving Jack some weak excuse about how you weren’t able to see them over the holidays.

North Carolina winter is in full force as February of twenty twenty-four rolls around, and your life remains inexplicably boring while Andrei’s picks up. The Hurricanes are finally having a redemption arc after their awful first-half of the season, and thus are heading out to celebrate far more often than normal.

They’re more daring in where they choose to go, too, wanting to branch out of their norms, because why not?

This is really unfortunate for you. Horrifying, actually, because you’re out with your friends, Jack, and his friends too when the team comes strolling in. Eyes instantly shoot their way, aweing at the miniature celebrities in their own right for finally bringing a good professional sports team to NC.

The moment Andrei steps foot in the establishment you know. Your skin catches fire, your ears ring, and your heart thunders inside your chest because only man can set off your senses so powerfully.

You look away from Jack - who thankfully doesn’t notice, he’s sucked into a conversation with one of his friends - and find Andrei approaching the bar with Martin and Seth. He hasn’t noticed you yet and you try to keep that from happening as you sink down into your seat, flashing your friends an exaggerated smile when they eye you curiously.

You’re unable to hide for long, though, when a song bursts from the speakers and sends everyone into an excited frenzy, your group included as they crowd the dance.

Luckily you’re able to escape that particular rally and wave Jack off when he asks you if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” You shout over the bass rattling your eardrums. “Just letting my drink settle a bit.”

He doesn’t question you, merely nods and smiles before disappearing somewhere with his friends. Now, you’re alone, and you can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because now you have a perfect view of Andrei and his teammates leaning against the bar, looking far too good as they do so.

You can’t keep your eyes off him. You never could, especially can’t now as you soak up every little change your eyes can see. He has a scruff now, a sexy five o’clock shadow that you know firsthand how it feels between your thighs. His hair is a little longer, too—you wonder if it’s still as soft as you remember.

Jack suddenly appears from a break in the crowd and oh, yeah, fuck you can’t be thinking about your ex like this, can you? No, you aren’t officially with Jack, but it’s still wrong. He likes you so much, you know this, and you… Don’t hate him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bemoan to yourself, torn between the angel on your left and the devil on your right that don’t give you the chance to decide because you feel eyes baring into your skull, begging you to notice them. Your entire being freezes, stuck in between some weird limbo as you lock eyes with Andrei for the first time in months.

There’s no one else but you and him as neither one of you refuses to break first, and you only lose eye contact when a group of people walks between you. When they’re gone and you’re able to freely look again, you realize he’s gone from his spot at the bar. All his teammates are still there, and they’ve now spotted you too.

Would it be wrong to call an uber and just tell Jack you felt sick?

Your name is suddenly being whispered into your ear, and you would have flinched if the sound of his voice didn’t have you relaxing back into your seat. You refuse to look up at first, because if you look at him so close to you again you’ll fold.

“Andrei,” You greet, quietly. “How are you?” You still aren’t looking at him, choosing to swirl around the drink in your hand instead.

“I’m good,” He replies, so close you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You lean into it almost subconsciously until he’s sliding into the booth next to you, pressing the two of you together. “How are you, my kisa?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You retort, finally meeting his eyes to cast him a withering glare.

“No?” Andrei reaches a hand up to brush some stray hairs from your face. So delicate his touch, he trails his hand down your cheek, your neck, and down your waist until landing on your thigh. You don’t stop him, either.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn that you’re mine.”

“I’m not,” You squirm under his touch, unable to push him away. “I haven’t been in months. Wasn’t ever ‘yours’ to begin with. You made sure of that.”

Andrei doesn’t appreciate the call out. The way his face twists is mean and you know whatever he’s going to say will hurt. “Right,” He scoffs, is snide with the way he tones it. “But you’re his?”

He gestures towards Jack, who thankfully is enraptured in a tense game of pool on the other side of the room. You don’t question how he already knows that’s who you’re with.

“I’m not anyone’s, Andrei.”

“Yes you are. You might have thought that because we haven’t seen each other we are just over?” He leans into you, doesn’t let you break eye contact as he gets so close your noses touch. “No. I bet me being so close to you right now has you soaked, and you want to know how I know that?”

Your throat is tight as you swallow. You can’t look away as you move to shake your head, but strange, because it comes out as a nod instead.

“You’re not ‘over me’, malyshka. You’ll never be over me. You love me.”

His grin is feral, his words biting as they cut through you at such a vulnerable level it has you flinching back from his touch immediately.

“Oh, fuck you, Andrei,” You hiss, an angry sheen of tears starting to gloss over your eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t love you anymore—especially not now.”

You move to slip around him but his arm shoots out and stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen as he stands to tower over you.

“Careful,” He murmurs. “Your boy over there might think something’s wrong. Maybe I should introduce myself, make sure he knows I would never dare hurt you.”

“You don’t have to touch me to hurt me. You did that plenty without having to lift a finger.” You retort. “Now, get out of my way. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“But what if I want to talk to you?” You really hate the height difference between the two of you right now because it takes no effort at all for him to slide a muscular arm around your waist and keep you glued to his side. “Maybe I have missed you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” You mutter, but he ignores you as he begins to lead you away from the booth you were in before. “My friends will wonder where I am if I’m not at the booth when they get back.”

“Not worried about your boy?” He mocks, noting the way you don’t mention Jack at all. “They won’t have enough time to notice.”

You narrow your eyes at his insinuating words as he stops at the bar, waving down the bartender who comes immediately. “His name is Jack.” You mutter, thinking he can’t hear you. He continues talking, ignoring you, and you’re unable to hear him over the noise so you don’t bother trying to understand what he’s asking for.

Soon enough there’s a drink sliding across the bar counter and Andrei pushes it in front of you. You eye the glass, making note of the fact that the liquid is red. “Vodka cranberry,” He confirms what you’re already thinking.

You flash back to the night you first met and suddenly you want nothing to do with the drink in front of you. “No thanks, I don’t want it.” You say, trying to step away.

You don’t get far, though, because he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you rather harshly back to him. “Drink it,” He demands, watches your eyes and the way they dart from his face and back to the glass nervously. He sighs, then, like he’s realized something and lets go of your wrist only to land back on your hip. “It’s… Nothing is wrong with it. I didn’t touch it.”

He thinks you’re worried about being drugged? You almost laugh but manage to hold it back, because of course he doesn’t remember that this is the first drink he ever got you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you concede, finally picking up the drink and taking a tiny sip. He waits for your reaction like he’s the one who made it. “It’s good,” You finally say, licking the sweetness from your lips.

Andrei watches you, your eyes, your lips, everything about as time seems to stop and it’s just you and him, like it’s supposed to be.

You haven’t changed all that much, and you can tell he likes that. Your hair is a little shorter, you’re perhaps a little thinner now that you’re not on a college student diet, but you’re still you.

Andrei hasn’t changed either. You’re the same yet so different, and it’s incredibly difficult resisting the temptation to fall back into old habits.

“I’ve missed you,” He admits quietly, and you think it’s sincere this time. You wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t standing so close together.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You might be sweating out of nerves, or maybe it’s just the club. Your hands itch to touch him, and with more alcohol in you thanks to the cranberry you don’t stop Andrei as he succumbs to his urges first and uses one, large hand to cup your cheek.

You shudder as he caresses the skin, his thumb landing on your bottom lip and stroking it lightly. “Andrei,” You breathe, pupils blown wide. “You can’t—we can’t…”

He tilts his head, reminiscent of a dog. “Why not? You are not single?” He has you. He knows you know he does. You aren’t nearly as committed to Jack as much as you’d like yourself to be.

“I can’t do that to him,” You try weakly, already feeling your will bending to the persuasiveness of his touch.

His head lowers, hand remaining on your cheek as he brushes your lips together. You crave it, you realize, and move to fully push your mouths together but he’s pulling back before you get the chance.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you?” You ask, the double-meaning clear as you stare at each other, neither willing to break.

Andrei’s face is unreadable. You can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing as his hands land on your hips and he turns you around in the direction of the restrooms. “Go,” He taps your ass, nudging you forward. “I’ll be there.”

You give in this time. You’re aware of the astronomically bad decision you’re making as you cut the line, faking a sick stomach and whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in your head as the nice ladies let you through.

When you close the door you immediately make your way to the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and with mussed hair and smudged lipstick you should be feeling ashamed.

All you feel is anticipation, though. For Andrei’s hands on your body, for his mouth to kiss all the spots he’s missed.

Several minutes go by and the knocks on the bathroom door become more frequent. You think he’s bailed on you - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time - but then you hear his voice outside.

“Da, yes, she’s in there,” A pause. “She’s my girlfriend, she needs me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, turning to face the door as he knocks and can hear his voice more clearly.

Yes, you do need him.

“Kisa,” He says, slightly muffled but you feel the effect he has on you is all the same. “I’m here. Let me in?” He’s almost begging, and you quickly unlock the door as he pushes through.

His smile is mischievous as he closes the door behind him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He purposefully raises his voice, shows faux concern and plays it up in case anyone is listening outside.

“You’re so dramatic,” You say, pulling him down to you by the collar of his shirt. Now that you’re alone you don’t bother pretending you don’t want him as much as you do. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Andrei relents immediately, closing the distance between the two of you. Both his hands come up to the sides of your head to keep you in place, tilting you in whatever way he likes. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and your bodies move together like they were never apart.

He’s demanding as he begins pushing you back, crowding you against the tiny bathroom wall. His words from outside come back to you suddenly, and you break the kiss to catch a breath as his lips begin a trail across your cheeks. “Girlfriend?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I had to get them to let me through somehow.” It’s not what you want to hear but you lose the urge to fight him on it as he reaches your neck and begins sucking little hickeys onto the sensitive skin. Your head falls back with a sigh, uncaring of your hair catching whatever germs might lie on the wall.

You let Andrei do what he wants to your neck for a few moments, then when the urge to taste his lips comes again you grab the back of his hair and pull him up to you. He goes willingly, and you moan into his mouth as he continues to push back against you so hard you can feel his dick through his jeans.

He pulls back much too soon for your taste, and you try to follow but suddenly one of the hands holding your head comes down to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath as he pushes you back. You go to speak, but his other hand is leaving your face to unbutton his jeans one-handed.

You watch, eyes heavy-lidded. “‘Drei?” The weight on your neck is comfortable, so you don’t bother moving as he shoves the rest of his jeans along with his boxers down his thick thighs.

“You want to talk to other guys?” He starts with a bite. “Then you can remember the taste of my cock in your mouth while you do it.”

Your blood pressure skyrockets as the hand on your throat leaves to pull your hair back out of your face, grasps it like a rope, and pushes you down to your knees.

You’re at eye-level with his cock as it bobs in front of you, angry and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He stares down at you expectantly, has to hold back a groan at your wide-eyed gaze looking so innocent.

As your lips wrap around his tip he’s reminded of the fact that no, you are not innocent. He made you that way. Fucked you like no man ever could. Ruined you for everyone but him. His feelings for you are complicated, but he does understand one thing…

Andrei doesn’t want you, not really. But he hates to think about you with somebody else.

Your tongue is masterful in its work as it swirls around his head, and once you get comfortable you begin going down. His head falls back and this time he doesn’t hold back his noises as your warm, wet mouth envelopes him.

“Missed this mouth,” He grunts as you suck. “Like it much better when you can’t speak.”

It’s insulting and degrading, yet it doesn’t fail to turn you on as you squirm and rub your thighs together in hopes it’ll give you the friction you need.

His hand in your hair soon starts pulling, sliding your mouth forward and back in increasing motions as he gets closer. He’s unabashedly groaning now, and you can see his abs clench when you suck a certain way.

Suddenly, you have the urge to have him fall apart before you. Maybe it’s revenge, wanting to see him lose control for you like you’ve done for him so many times; you tilt your head, using your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his cock and that has him jerking into you.

“Fuck,” He hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” The praise goes directly to your clit, and you whimper as it throbs with no relief.

Despite being apart for almost a year, you still know what every twitch of his body means. You know he’s close because the hand in your hair is gripping you tighter, you can feel the steadily increasing tempo of his heartbeat through his pulsing cock, and his thighs are ever so slightly trembling underneath your hands.

You want him to come in your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more; your efforts increase and you dig your nails into his skin to hear him hiss and as his thrusts pick up he starts hitting the back of your throat.

Internally thanking your lacking gag reflex, you don’t flinch as he picks up speed, now blatantly using your mouth for his own pleasure with little regard for your comfort. “Shit, baby,” He blurts, desperate. “I’m gonna cum.” You hum in response, the vibrations of the sound finally throwing him over the edge.

Andrei throws his head back for a final time, one long groan emulating from his unfairly sculpted chest as his cum hits the back of your throat. You’ve always loved the taste of him and this time is no different as you suck him deeper, not wanting to waste a drop.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and in that timeframe your ears slowly stop ringing and you come back to reality, finding that your knees ache from being pressed into the floor and there are loud voices coming from outside the bathroom door.

As you move to stand, he too seems to remember where you’re at and uses both arms to pull you the rest of the way until you’re back to standing. You swipe your hair out of your face as his thumb comes to your lip, wiping away a stray drop of his release.

Despite the post-orgasmic clarity, he looks at you with softness and something else swimming in his dark eyes. “You’re still good at that,” He states. “Been sucking anyone else off?” His words are quiet but every bit threatening as you note the possessiveness in his tone.

“No,” You gasp as his thumb pushes its way into your mouth. “Just you. Only you,”

“That’s right,” He says. “Just me. Only me.” Then he’s spinning you around, fingers remaining pressed into your mouth while the other trails up your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. “Hear them outside?” He asks.

The ‘them’ he’s referring to, you realize, are the voices outside the bathroom. They’re much louder now, a few knocks mixed in, and you wonder with slight panic how a manager hasn’t come to unlock the door yet.

“They sound very angry, don’t they?” That same hand on the back of your neck strokes your skin, slowly working its way down to your waistband. “So we better make it quick. Hands on the wall, kisa,”

You know the moment he pulls down your pants he’ll find you to be unabashedly soaking. Despite claiming to be in a hurry, he takes his time working open the button of your jeans, grazing the skin above your panties before ever so slowly sliding them down your legs.

“Andrei,” You hiss, impatient. “Hurry up!” As the hand in your mouth retreats, you realize you’re both needy and nervous, an overwhelming combination.

He only laughs. “Someone is needy,” He mocks, holding your hips in place when you try wiggling against him. “Patience.” Leaning into your ear he murmurs this, staying this way as he fully slides your jeans past your knees.

Andrei sneaks his hand in between your thighs, something resembling a growl rumbling from his chest when his fingers find your dripping folds, feeling how you throb for him. “Missed this pussy even more,” He breathes, lubricating his fingers with your slick before slowly circling your clit. Your arms shake from where they hold you up and it’s a battle to keep yourself from collapsing.

“You are just made for me, aren’t you?”

You’re so wet you practically suck him in as he guides his dick to your entrance, and he wastes no preamble as he pushes in. If he thought your mouth was heaven after so much time apart, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him in so deep doesn’t even compare. His hands are digging into your hips as he ruts into you fully with one thrust, panting as your warmth contracts around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” He marvels like he can’t believe it, like it’s a dream you feel even better than when he replays the memories of you on repeat. “You been waiting for me?” He’s not expecting a response as his rhythm picks up, finding a familiar pace for the both of you that has him swearing under his breath and you struggling not to shout your pleasure to the rooftops.

“God,” You cry out when the head of his cock directly hits your g-spot, your hips jerking up so hard you would have fallen if it weren’t for Andrei holding you up. “Fuck, Andrei, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Andrei laughs, a sound that would have been more menacing if he also wasn’t gasping for air. “Already?” He mocks. “I barely touched you, baby,”

You don’t have to touch me, it’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to be blurted out. You don’t have to touch me for me to be on my knees for you. The words are ready, but instead all that comes out is a moan and maybe that’s for the best because he probably wouldn’t respond as well as he does in your dreams.

He’s unaware of your internal dilemma as he leans over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back. “Gotta be fast,” He reminds you, as if you’d forgotten. “You ready?”

“No, I—I can’t,” Because you don’t want this to be over. You don’t want to cum because he’ll follow you right after and then when clarity hits he’ll leave you again and you’ll be back to square one.

“Yes, you can” He croons. “I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, I’m right here.” You want to sob as one of his hands leaves your hip and finds the junction of your bodies, gentle fingers prodding your pussy spread-wide around him until he finds your clit and rubs.

Your body is trembling and you can’t tell if you’re trying to move towards him or away, but it doesn’t matter anyways because he has you trapped between the wall and his body and the unrelenting pace of his hips slamming into you.

You have a sudden urge to look him in the eyes before you come undone by his cock and his fingers, so you crane your head to the side and watch him watch you. His hair is damp from sweat at the corners of his hairline, his lips slightly open as he pants and you think you spot him lick his lips when he catches you staring. You go to say something but he swoops down, catching your mouth with his own and promptly shuts you up.

Andrei doesn’t relent in his motions despite the uncomfortable position, not letting you break from his lips by removing his hand at your hip and gripping your face to keep you right here. He owns you, at this point, mind, body, and soul as your lungs beg for breath while your clit throbs beneath his fingers and oh, oh, there it is and you’re gone—

You feel the rough pads of his fingers bullying your clit but you don’t really focus on it until now, how the calloused ridges carelessly sweep over you with no semblance of relief and only when you body abruptly freezes does he part from you, but only slightly, leaving a hair’s width of space between your lips. “Beautiful,” He says, under his breath so quietly you don’t hear him as your bones catch fire and your brain short-circuits.

Heat sears you from the inside-out and you do nothing but endure as Andrei rocks you through it. There’s tears of ecstasy streaming down your face, you’re sure of it now, and you think he’s wiping them from your cheeks but you can’t open your eyes enough to check.

It takes a few minutes, but once your heart stops racing you can hear your favorite voice swearing behind you and only then do you comprehend him still moving inside you, but before you can whine at the sensitivity he’s stilling with a long, drawn-out groan.

You don’t dare speak first, nor are you the first to move. The air around you is stagnant with tension as you rest your head on your arms, breathing deeply to catch your breath. What does this mean? You’re spiraling already and it’s only been minutes since your desperate fuck in this bathroom.

Eventually, Andrei moves first. He slides his softened dick from you with a hiss and you feel his cum trickling out without him there to keep it plugged in. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of having to walk around with wet inner thighs now, you slowly stand up as his hands fall from your body. You slide your panties and jeans back up the rest of your legs, ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity of being covered once again.

Neither of you speaks a word. You want to cry suddenly, and this time not from pleasure. “What did we just do?” You manage to choke out, your voice so hoarse you have to clear it. He’s clearly planning on just leaving without a word but you’re not going to let him.

You stare at him expectantly. He’s turned around so all you have in your view is his slide profile, clearly struggling with what to say as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Nothing,” He finally says, and he might as well just fucking stab you in the back. “We did nothing. You’re going to go back out there and pretend nothing happened because it didn’t.”

Oh, he makes you so angry. You can’t believe you’d forgotten that. “You’re serious?” You know he is but you don’t want to believe it.

Andrei meets your glassy eyes and you wish you could read him like he so easily can read you. He looks as conflicted as the day you walked out of his house for the last time, like he has so many words to say but refuses to let them fall from his lips. Just like then, you know this rendezvous means more to him than just a meaningless hookup.

If only he’d admit it…

He exhales a shaky breath as another loud knock disturbs you. “We need to go.” He dodges your question just like he dodges every issue in his life, especially in regards to you. “Come on, kisa.”

“You can’t just call me that, after—after this,” You hiss as he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the door. You panic on the inside as he unlocks it because once you leave this dirty sanctuary you know your problems will only get worse.

Strange, how Andrei manages to make everything worse despite making you feel so good.

As if your emotions don’t matter to him (they really don’t), he flashes you a grin as he drags you behind him, past the angry horde of people who, now that you think about it, definitely know you were fucking. “I know you like it.” Spoken so simply, so plain, you hate that he’s right.

You’ll always like it. Always love him. For as long as you’re hung up over him it will always come back to bite you in the ass and he knows this too.

It’s why, without shame, his arm is curled possessively around your waist as he leads you through the crowd of people. Your friends, Jack, don’t even cross your mind as he does so.

“Go find your friends,” He soon leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then find Jack. Tell him you felt sick and had to use the bathroom.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You snap, purposefully antagonizing him.

Andrei merely raises a brow at you. “You can always stay with me, with my cum dripping down your legs, and explain to everyone how you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away.”

You want to hit him. You almost do, but he continues before you actually go through with it.

“I wonder what Jack would say?” Of course he was listening to you earlier. He ignored you then, of course, but he listened.

And yeah, okay, you get it. Not a good idea to let everyone you know see you with him. He doesn’t want his friends to see him with you, either.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You ask, intending to sound sarcastic but it comes off as more insecure than you wanted it to.

You know he is, but you can’t help but ask for confirmation. Maybe it would help you move on to hear how little he actually cares for you.

“I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried,” He replies. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “You’ll never get rid of me though.”

He’s right, again. You hate so much that he is because you both know you’ll be crawling back the moment he calls.

You want to cry again as his arm leaves your waist, the absence of his heat leaving you shivering.

Andrei looks at you for a long time, just appraising. He tilts his head like he doesn’t know what to think, but then he spots something behind you and starts backing up.

“I will see you again someday, kisa.” He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Someone behind you taps your shoulder while speaking into your ear, a voice you recognize as one of the girls you came with. You should probably focus, banish Andrei from your mind, but you don’t.

You strain your neck, watching for him through the crowd. He’s back at the bar with his friends, his teammates you once knew.

He’s laughing at something one of them said. Like he wasn’t just with you, fucking you against the bathroom walls.

“Are you okay?” Your friend behind you asks, the one thing from her you do catch.

“Yeah,” You say, swallowing despite the dryness in your throat. Andrei is talking to more people now, girls that have approached him, you notice. “I’m fine.”

He looks gorgeous under the lights. You catch his brilliant smile, the glimmer of his eyes, and those lips you can never get enough of. You soon lose sight of him amidst the throng of people, but his fleeting allure forever lingers...

Like a steadfast reminder, a haunting echo of what can never be.

A/N: Well, that was fun. I hurt my own feelings writing this but it was worth it. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please remember to reblog & comment!!

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nylwnder · 2 years

Text

lustful nights

a/n: hello!!! here’s the first fic out of my birthday series!! i hope y’all enjoy this soft yet smutty fic and i’ll see y’all tomorrow with another drop hehe

pairing: frederik andersen x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, light mentions of oral (f receiving), essentially memories from last night and nights passed

word count: 1.03k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @stars-canucks , @spine-buster , @melissasturges90 , @themotogirl , @thenhlhastakenovermylife , @deviltsunoda , @harlequinbeautyxoxo , @je-ne-regrette-rien

series masterpost

you relished in the large feel of warmth beside you. you hugged it, before your eyes opened and focused on the soft face of your boyfriend. you admired him, the way his face would scrunch, his lips lightly twitching, his red hair shining from the creeping sun.

you got up softly, making sure to not bother his sleep. you stretched as you made your way to the bathroom. looking at the mirror you fixed your bed hair before you noticed the darkening marks on your collarbone. taking off the large shirt you were currently wearing, you smirked as you saw another mark below your breasts. your mind immediately replayed the build up to yet another lustful night shared between the two of you.

as you got into the shower, you stood there letting the warm water drip down your figure. closing your eyes, you were met with freddie’s chocolate eyes. you smiled, seeing how your fingers traced the sides of his growing beard. his eyes fell to your lips, in which you bit down on as his hands made their way to your ass and you were placed down on the bed.

your fingers made their way to your neck. you felt the way frederik’s breath hovered over it, his lips targeting the spot he's perhaps eyed for hours. his teeth grazing your skin, your other hand could feel the way you’d let your hands fall from his shoulders down to his forearm. you parted your hair so water could fall down your back. the movement reminded you about all the times freddie would part your hair so he could fit his head into the crook of your neck. whispering how gorgeous you look in your ears.

your fingers fall down to your chest, picturing the way your back arches into frederik. his tongue tracing the curves of your breasts. a light moan escaped your mouth when you could feel freddie’s lips attached to your sensitive nipples. your fingers tracing the path freddie always took down to the place that ached for him the most. his hands holding your hips down. you could picture the way you’d squirm, he's barely touching you but instead watching how your body can picture his soon to come actions. knowing just how good he feels and how much you want it.

“say it” you requested, once. “say what, love?” he asked gently, “my name.” you ran your fingers through his hair as freddie smiled at you. “y/n” he murmurs against your chest.

“again.”

“y/n.” his lips against your stomach.

“y/n.” then your thighs.

“y/n.” then your heat. not before pulling back and bringing out a whine from you.

your thighs were next, fred would always tease you by giving the softest kisses yet. holding them in his hands as he asks you what you want him to do to you. “worship me” you pleaded once, humming at your response “my pleasure” he says. his mouth diving in to eat you up. you could picture how your first moan always overpowered you, opening your eyes you blush at the thought.

you closed them again, seeing how fred kisses your heaving chest. your doe eyes looking up at him, your mouth slightly agape. he loved your post-orgasmic state, you looked so fragile, so vulnerable. “are you real?” you’d ask, he only wanted to hold you close, in which you wanted as well with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

your head fell back at the thought of his cock stretching you out. you rubbed your cheek as freddie would, “you’re alright love” he’d say. your little whines in his ear as his hands steady you into his build. thrust after thrust after thrust. your nails digging into his back, a groan leaving his mouth.

your hands ran down your sides, squeezing where frederik’s large hands would. when your hips would roll into his, and your teeth nibbled on his lip, his eyes watching you so carefully. a grip around your “useless hands” could be felt in your wrists as he held them above you. you could also surely remember the pain in your thighs when freddie would fold your legs on his broad shoulders. your hands picturing the soft feel of a handful of freddie’s hair. your eyes habitually rolling back.

frederik always took an opportunity to show you his love. whether it would be with simple actions, or toe-curling, unholy fucking movements. every time you didn’t picture your life with another man. you didn’t want anyone else’s lips marking you other than freddie’s. he gave you everything and more. it’s perfect.

arms snaked around you. your mind thinking you were merely picturing it as freddie nibbled on your shoulder, your fingers tracing the veins on his strapping arms. you let your head fall back, but freddie’s voice helped you gain back your senses.

letting your eyes flutter open, you saw freddie smiling down on you. “what are you doing, love?” he asks, kissing your wet hair. “hmm, daydreaming i guess.”

“yeah?” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “mhm, about you.” you say, turning around to face him, “about your hands, and your lips, and your…” you say looking down at his very large-

“cock?” he denotes, you look up and giggle. “already got you all flustered before i even woke up, hmm?”

“can you blame me? you rot my brain everyday with all the filthy things you’ve done to me. it’s a miracle i’m not jumping you every minute.” he laughs at your statement. “darling, you don’t know how many times i’ve picturing your glistening figure sprawled out just for me.”

you look up at him again and kiss his chin. “really?” you ask, picturing he might have a bit more control on things like this compared to you. “you don’t think i’d dream of that dripping wet pussy of yours? it eats me alive knowing i can’t always have it right in front of me, waiting patiently to be licked up”

you bite your lips at his words. “fuck” you say before he smirks and lifts you up to pin you to the wall. “we’re in the same boat, doll. now let’s make those dreams of yours come true. i think i know how they go,” frederik says.

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laurenairay · 3 months

Text

comes back to me, burning red - F. Andersen

Summary: Kendra Lee and Freddie Andersen lost touch after he was traded from Anaheim – will a surprise encounter bring back their friendship? And maybe more?

I’m jumping in as a pinch hitter for @misshoneyimhome for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I haven’t written about Freddie in a little while so it was fun getting back to him – and thanks for answering all my questions! Such a lovely twist of fate after receiving my own fic from her today.

Flashback sections are in italics.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: discussion of Freddie’s injuries, light angst, friends to lovers, cheesy flirting

Title from: Red by Taylor Swift

“Good morning Kendra Lee!”

Kendra grimaced, shutting the door to her yoga studio behind her, her long blonde hair swinging as she turned.

“Full name, first thing in the morning? What did I do?”

Her colleague and friend, Mimi, just snickered, shaking her head.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Mimi said, smiling.

“Still ominous,” Kendra mused, swiping her staff card to log her as present in the building, “What’s going on?”

“Okay so you know how you moving over to Raleigh with me a month ago was to give you opportunities to do more yoga rehabilitation work?”

“Yes…?”

It was true, as vague as her friend was being. Having worked across yoga studios California for nearly 11 years, Kendra had jumped at the chance of diving more into rehabilitation work within yoga. Being made co-owner with Mimi and her sister Celeste was just the cherry on top.

“I was staying late last night to finish up the stock check and I got a call – specifically for you to do yoga rehab for an athlete needing conditioning to make his way back to playing. I know it’s right up your street, kind of exactly what you want to do more of, so I said yes.”

“You said yes already?” Kendra asked, surprised.

“I know, I know, but this is a huge opportunity. I said yes, with the caveat that I would double check timings with you this morning and let them know your availability for today,” Mimi explained.

“For today?” Kendra gasped.

“Yes, I know, but the guy organising it all for the athlete was insistent – the athlete chose you, off a list of yoga instructors based on feedback from other clients you had, and that’s huge,” Mimi said, wincing in apology.

Kendra took the time to think over her friend’s words, throwing her long blonde waves up in a twisted bun, her typical work hairstyle.

“You’re right. That is huge. Surprising, but huge. I guess, uh, just see what I’ve got this afternoon? I know I’ve got a couple of classes this morning already,” Kendra eventually said, “including…damn it, one that start in 15 minutes.”

Pregnancy Yoga, affectionately known as Moms who Move. Not women to mess around.

“Alright, you go get set up and I’ll call them back. Thanks, Kendra. And sorry for it being so last minute,” Mimi smiled.

“Hey, it happens. Let’s stay positive with it!” Kendra grinned.

As sudden as the work was, it really was where her heart lay, so this could only be a good thing right? Everything she’d been working towards?

“That’s the spirit I love! Get it girl!”

Kendra just laughed her way into Studio Two, her usual room, ready to make sure her class was set up in time.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Kendra was pleasantly tired. All three classes had run smoothly so far today and there had been no major hiccups (or incidents) with any of her students. Even the Grooving Grandmas class (the adorable name her group of 12 senior ladies gave themselves) had behaved today, which only left her in a great mood.

So great, she lost track of time, until Mimi poked her head into the room.

“Hey, Kendra, your 2pm is here.”

“Oh damn, the athlete?”

“Yeah that’s the one. I’m just finishing up his intake forms if you want to join us,” Mimi said with a smile.

Kendra smiled back, nodding as she followed her friend out to the front desk. If she was being honest with herself, she would’ve liked a bit more preparation time, or even a name to start with. Hell, even the sport the athlete played in would’ve been useful, so she could start thinking of a program for them. Hopefully the athlete would understand the last minute nature of the set up. Hopefully.

But standing there in the lobby was the last person she expected to see. Just as tall and gorgeous and imposing as she’d last seen him in Anaheim, before he left over 7 years ago. He was her athlete?

“Freddie?”

“It’s been a long time, Kendra,” he murmured, smiling.

“You two know each other?” Mimi said, confused.

“How are your teaching hours coming along? You can’t have many left now before the next level, right?”

Kendra smiled up at her boss brightly. After her initial 200 hours training, she knew that teaching yoga was going to be her life’s work, even though she was only 21. Having worked insanely hard over the past two years, she was nearly ready to lead classes all by herself rather than as an assistant, and wasn’t that a heady thought? “No, not many left at all. As of yesterday I actually have 990 hours logged.”

“So you’re nearly ERYT 200?” her boss, James, grinned.

The third level of yoga instructor, after two years and 1000 hours of teaching.

“Just 10 hours left!” Kendra said brightly.

“That’s kind of perfect, if I’m being honest. We’ve been contacted by the Anaheim Ducks to run a conditioning class for a portion of the team. There are 20 players who’ve signed up, and the idea is that those who find it useful will sign up for more classes.”

“20 ice hockey players. My God. Will they take it seriously?”

She’d seen plenty of jocks in her 21 years and she knew exactly how much they goofed around when they didn’t care about things.

“Oh yeah, this is mandatory for these players and I’ll be evaluating them to send it back to their trainers. It’s serious – and it’s a big opportunity for the studio too.”

“Yeah definitely. And it’ll be good to see a different type of client for a change,” Kendra nodded.

“We love our yoga moms, don’t front,” James mused.

Kendra just grinned. She did love her beginner’s yoga mom class, he was right.

“It’ll be a big opportunity for you too, to work with them. If enough sign up, I’d like you to take on at least one for solo instruction the moment you have those 1000 hours done, to give you that experience. But if any of them give you any trouble, you let me know, okay? I won’t stand for it, regardless of who they are.”

“Thanks boss.”

“Any time.”

By the time 11am rolled around, Kendra was nervous. Not a bad nervous though, more like butterflies. She was so closed to her next stage of yoga teaching that she could almost taste it. She just hoped that this giant group of giant men would be a positive experience. They arrived in a herd, filling up the room quickly, and Kendra waited at the front of the room off to the side while her boss waited for them all to be ready.

“Alright, thanks for joining us today. I’m James Fields, owner and lead yoga instructor here, and this is Kendra Lee, who will be running this class alongside me,” he started.

She just grinned at the curious looks sent her way. Let them underestimate her, that was fine.

“As you all know, this class is mandatory and I will be evaluating you for your conditioning staff, so pay attention and we’ll all have a great time.”

Kendra watched a few disgruntled expressions popping up and fought not to laugh. Hockey players. She should’ve known they wouldn’t be any different. As her boss continued to talk, Kendra’s eyes drifted across the room, eventually landing on the man in front of her. Well, man was pushing it – this guy couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than her. A broad-shouldered redhead, pretty face, serious expression taking in her boss’s words. This one was paying attention. This one wanted to learn. Good. Even from here she could tell he would tower over her, although at 5ft2 that wasn’t really a difficult barrier. Maybe 6ft4? Maybe? Either way, this guy was going to be a good student, she could already tell.

As if he could sense his eyes on her, the man glanced over, catching her gaze. She froze, a little embarrassed to be caught staring, but he just smiled. Oh what a lovely smile that was. It was all she could do to smile back.

“If you’re all ready then, Kendra will lead you through Sun Salutation to warm up.”

She broke out of her thoughts, waving cheerfully at them all and earning a laugh. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she grinned.

“Yeah Freddie used to come to classes at my first studio, back in Anaheim about 10ish years ago. It’s been a while,” Kendra nodded, forcing a smile on her face.

Mimi raised an eyebrow but smiled politely at Freddie. “If you head on into Studio Two, Kendra will be right with you. I just need her to sign a form.”

He nodded, following the instructions with a smile sent Kendra’s way, leaving her alone with her colleague.

“Okay what the hell was that?” Mimi asked, wiggling her fingers in the direction Freddie went.

Kendra sighed, hands on hips.

“That was an old friend who I haven’t seen or spoken to in over 7 years. Him coming here out of the blue just threw me off, that’s all.”

“Is he going to be a problem? Because I have no issue with kicking him out if he doesn’t deserve a moment in your company,” Mimi said firmly.

It was times like this that Kendra really loved her friends.

“No, no it’ll be okay. There was no drama, we just drifted out of contact. Sure it sucked, but it was a long time ago? It’ll be fine. Besides, like you said, this is a big opportunity for me to do more with yoga rehab, right?”

Mimi pursed her lips but nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. But let me know the second that you change your mind, if you need to.”

Kendra just gave her a quick hug, nudging her friend’s hip with her yoga mat, before heading resolutely towards Studio Two.

“So you enjoyed the last group class then?”

“I did. Anything to keep my flexibility up as good as it can get, right?”

Kendra just smiled, nodding. “Not that you seemed to have a problem with your flexibility.”

“Well I certainly haven’t had any complaints.”

He froze the moment the words left his lips, looking mortified. It was all she could do to burst into laughter at the horror on his face.

“I am so sorry. That was so unprofessional,” he groaned.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard since I’ve started here,” she said, still giggling, “You have nothing to worry about Mr Andersen.”

“Please, call me Freddie?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as his cheeks flamed red.

“Sure thing. Now let’s talk solo session scheduling – what works best for you?”

Kendra took a shaky breath as the memories of her first solo yoga session with Freddie washed over her, before steeling herself, pushing open the studio door. Freddie was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor on the mat he’d brought with him, and immediately smiled up at her, loosening a bit of tension in her chest. She could do this. She could totally do this.

“Hey, Freddie,” she said, unrolling her own mat.

“Hey Kendra. It’s good to see you,” he replied as she sat down opposite him.

“Good to see you too. I won’t say it isn’t a surprise because that would be a lie, but it is good to see you after all these years.”

Freddie winced a little, making her grimace inside. Was that too much?

“About that…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, so Kendra quickly shook her head. Their past wasn’t what this was all about, and it would do neither of them any good to hash it up now.

“You’re here now,” she said firmly, “So, yoga rehab. Do you know much about what it entails or if there’s anything your team specifically wants?”

“Uh, I only know the basics really. Obviously I’ve done it a lot before for conditioning, which is what my trainer said this mostly will be as my injury was a blood clotting issue rather than muscles or joints?”

Blood clots. Damn. And for someone only in their 30s?

“That must’ve been really scary,” she murmured.

His eyes widened a little in surprise, but he nodded, smiling sadly. “I genuinely thought my career was over. I’ve been out for stretches of time before, but never for anything like this. I felt…helpless,” he admitted.

She could only guess he was being so vulnerable because of their history but she still appreciated his honesty. It can’t have been easy to admit such a thing.

“I can imagine you would, yeah. But the team are figuring it out, right? They wouldn’t be signing you up for yoga rehab if they didn’t have a plan in place?” Kendra said, trying to be positive.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. They’ve tried a few things and they seem to be happy with the results anyway – they’re looking at about a month if all goes well,” Freddie nodded.

“That’s fantastic. I’m glad I’ll be able to help you get back to where you need to be. I’ll do a bunch of research after today, to make sure I’m not pushing you too hard, to make sure I’m doing the best I can for you,” Kendra said, smiling.

One month. One month with a rehabilitation she’d never come across before. This was the exact kind of challenge she wanted – and it would be with Freddie?

“I know you will, Kendra. I trust you completely. I just…”

He trailed off, chewing his bottom lip, his hesitation making her chest ache.

“What is it?” she prompted, trying to be gentle.

“I don’t want this to be it. I’m not ready for my career to be over. I still want, no, need to prove myself,” he said softly.

“Your talent and reputation precede you, Freddie. Everything that you’ve achieved with the Leafs and now with the Canes? How beloved you are by teammates and fans? You prove yourself, every day.”

“You’ve followed my career?” he asked, clearly surprised.

To be fair, she didn’t think she would’ve been able to keep following him after he left Anaheim, but it was Freddie.

“How could I not? We were friends,” she shrugged, trying to keep her voice light.

A wave of sadness washed over Freddie’s expression, making her heart clench in her chest, but before he could speak, Kendra cleared her throat.

“You’ve got this, Freddie Andersen. We’re going to get you back to where you need to be, and you’re going to kick metaphorical ass. Maybe even literal ass if you need to,” she said firmly.

Freddie managed a small smile, nodding.

“Let’s do this then.”

“Hey, Kendra. Thanks for today. I really enjoyed the session.”

She looked up at Freddie as she took her hair out of the twisted bun she put it in for working, letting her hair cascade down her back in blonde waves.

“You don’t have to thank me every time, you know,” she mused.

After that fateful first group class, Freddie has eagerly signed on for more conditioning classes at her studio, and her boss had happily signed him on as her first solo yoga client the moment she reached her 1000 hours milestone. It had been intimidating, if she was being honest, but she was thriving under her own steam, leading all on her own. It didn’t hurt that Freddie was a willing student, keen to increase his flexibility and core strength. And it didn’t hurt that he was absolutely gorgeous either – but that was just for her own thoughts.

“I want to thank you though. The team, management in particular, are really noticing the work I’ve put in as full-time backup, and that’s all down to you,” Freddie said with a shrug and a smile.

“Well in that case, gold star for me,” she grinned.

Freddie barked out a surprised laugh, making her giggle as she rolled up her mat.

“Did you, uh…do you have any more classes now?” he asked, awkward enough for her to pay attention.

“No, you were my last of the day. Why?”

“There’s a new smoothie bar that’s opened up down the road and I was going to go after this – if you want, come with me? I’d love to learn more about how you got into yoga instruction so young,” he said hopefully.

Kendra eyed him for a moment, trying to read any implications or anything untoward in his words. The last thing she wanted was to give off the wrong impression, especially in her first adult job, but Freddie just looked so genuine that she couldn’t help but to smile. A friend couldn’t hurt, right?

“I could go for a smoothie,” she said after a moment or two, nodding.

“Great! Um, I’ll shower, change, and meet you in the lobby?”

“Sounds like a plan,” she mused, “See you soon.”

Within no time at all, Kendra had changed into a cute little cropped lilac sweater and black jeans, leaving her hair down her back to dry in waves. She hadn’t packed any makeup with her, annoyingly, but Freddie saw her all the time without makeup so she guessed it didn’t really matter. Even if she would’ve preferred a dashing of mascara and a swipe of lipgloss. Maybe she’d have to leave a spare of each in her work bag, just in case any future hangouts after work happened.

If today’s smoothie run wasn’t awkward, of course. Damn she hoped it wouldn’t be awkward.

“Ready to go?”

“Let’s do this!” Kendra said cheerfully.

Freddie just smiled down at her, easily towering over her 5ft2 frame with his 6ft4 one – yes she’d looked up his height to be certain, she was curious – opening up the door for her to walk through first.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased.

“I aim to please,” he drawled.

Kendra snorted, immediately covering her face in embarrassment, but Freddie grinned like a cat who got the cream.

“Cute snort,” he smirked.

“Ass,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue to let him know she wasn’t actually mad.

Freddie just laughed, a clear beautiful sound that sent butterflies in her stomach going overdrive. No, this was not the time. Be a professional. Don’t be a giggly idiot. Damn it.

The walk to the smoothie bar couldn’t have taken more than 5 minutes, the two of them staying in a comfortable silence – something that Kendra found difficult with people she’d known for years, so for her to feel such at ease with someone she barely knew? It was strange. Nice, but strange.

“Okay, what’ll it be?” he asked, looking up at the board, “My treat.”

“Are you sure?” she frowned.

Sure, this was her first job and she’d only been in it a couple of months, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pay her way.

“Absolutely sure. I insist,” Freddie said firmly.

The intensity in his eyes, warm but solid, made her inhale sharply and nod. If he insisted…

“I’ll have almond milk, pineapple, kale, and mango, with a dash of honey. Thanks, Freddie,” she said, smiling up at him.

He just smiled back down at her, sending those butterflies into overdrive again, stepping forward to repeat her order as well as giving his own. When their smoothies arrived, Freddie walked over to a table in the corner so she followed, sitting down with a happy sigh.

“Oh man that’s good. Thanks for inviting me out,” Kendra said, after taking a sip of her smoothie.

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to actually meet someone near my age that as interested in yoga as I am,” Freddie said simply.

“Yeah? Not too many friends or girlfriends wanting to join you?” she asked, somehow managing to stop herself cringing to hard at the wording of her question.

Freddie just smirked slightly but didn’t call her out, thankfully. “No friends who want to do yoga with me, no. Most the team only do yoga when they absolutely have to. And no girlfriend either.”

“That’s a shame,” she said lightly, ignoring the zing through her body, “Yoga is fun and a great stress-reliever.”

“Is that why you got into it then?”

Kendra relaxed back into her seat, taking another sip of her drink, before starting to talk. Over the next hour, the two of them exchanged life stories, getting to know each other properly. Freddie talked about his career so far in the Danish league, how different and difficult it was to move over to Anaheim in August, how he’s just trying to make his mark now he’s been with down with the AHL team most the season and only up for a week. In turn, Kendra talked about how she’d always lived in California, having moved from her hometown in Santa Monica to Anaheim after meeting her now-boss at a training course, how she’d seen her mom doing yoga with her friends and fallen in love with the flow and peacefulness of it as well as the strength it gave. Talking to Freddie felt like they’d been friends for all her life, something she’d never experienced before, and she could only hope this wasn’t the last time they got to do this. Freddie was special, that was clear as day, and she felt lucky to see this relaxed side of him that she doubted many were privy to.

Eventually though, once their smoothies were finished, they had to leave before they overstayed their welcome, and Freddie walked her back to her car.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking across the parking lot on my own, you know,” she mused, jerking her chin in the direction of his car, all the way on the other side.

“And if some weirdo stalks you to your car when I can prevent that, I’d rather avoid you being alone,” he shrugged.

“Aww are you my knight in shining armour, Mr Andersen?” she teased.

Interestingly, his cheeks dusted with a blush.

“I’ll sweep you off your feet any time you need, Miss Lee,” he smirked.

Kendra just burst out laughing, shaking her head at his banter flirting. Ridiculous guy. This was going to be a fun friendship, she could already tell.

“Give me your number? We can sort out another smoothie run,” Freddie said, smiling.

She ignored those traitorous butterflies and nodded, unlocking her phone and handing it over. It could only be a good thing to have more friends in Anaheim, right?

“You think you can handle seeing me outside of the yoga studio?” she mused.

“Oh I know I can.”

Kendra and Freddie settled on three yoga sessions a week for his rehabilitation, 12 in total, to give him the conditioning build up he needed while still taking care to manage his recovery. She’d spent all night after that first meeting researching and planning the best course of movements and flows for him, making it challenging but helpful, eventually dragging herself back to bed at 4am, satisfied that what she’d planned would help him.

With any client, she would want to make sure she was satisfied, but with Freddie? She needed it to. Even after everything, she didn’t want to let him down.

Their first two sessions went well, the first mostly easing Freddie back into the swing of things, assessing where his strengths and weaknesses were, and the second session left Freddie groaning but smiling, happy he was able to push himself. Their third session, which Kendra was preparing for, would be another mild push, nothing extreme but still to see where she would need to adjust any plans.

It was all a process, but one she was enjoying immensely. Not just because of her student.

“Knock knock.”

Kendra jolted out of her thoughts, hand on her heart as Freddie walked into the studio with a grin.

“You are the worst,” she groaned.

“So you don’t want the smoothie I picked up on the way?” he mused.

He brought her a smoothie?

Her lips parted in surprise, but she stuck her hand out anyway, Freddie just laughing as he passed it over. The moment she took a sip, a wave of nostalgia ran over her. All she could think about were the smoothie runs and coffees hangouts and even the occasional lunch they used to go to together. Two and a half years of memories all flooding through her system, and it was all she could do to keep her face calm and neutral as the memories of conversations and vulnerability and laughter swirled through her thoughts. This wasn’t fair. This really wasn’t fair. She wanted to be mad at him for daring to dive back into their past like him leaving meant nothing, but how could she? How could she be mad when those memories still brought her joy?

“Almond milk, pineapple, kale, and mango, with a dash of honey. My favourite. Maybe you’re not the worst. You really remembered this?”

“Of course I did. I loved our smoothie dates,” Freddie nodded, smiling.

Dates?

“Dates?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Figure of speech? I don’t speak English?” he offered.

“Yeah nice try, I’m pretty sure your English is better than most people I know,” Kendra mused.

Freddie blushed but laughed.

“How could I forget anything about the girl who got me doing the best Bridge pose of my life, hm?”

She tried valiantly not to think about how good Freddie looked bent over in a backwards arch. Valiantly.

“Alright, but don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you, Freddie,” she said brightly, “We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned, “Give it to me rough.”

Kendra took a moment, trying to hold in her laughter, before she gave in and cackled.

“Oh man that was so bad, even for you,” she grinned.

“Not my finest, I’ll give you that,” Freddie shrugged, a light blush on his cheeks, “Still made you laugh though.”

Well he wasn’t wrong there.

Kendra sipped on her drink while Freddie laid out his mat, leaving the cup in a safe spot as she moved to stand in front of him.

“As always, let’s start with Sun Salutation,” she grinned.

The next hour flew by. As she promised him, Kendra did push him hard – some of the poses he wasn’t quite ready for, she could see that, at least even for the length of time they were trialling today. His natural flexibility hadn’t left him, that much was obvious, but there was still work to do. At least she could take pride in being part of rehabilitation that would never push him further than he was ready for. His safety, physical and mental, was the most important thing.

But he could do this. She knew that he could do this, and that excited her.

“Alright, that’s us done for today. Thanks, Freddie,” Kendra said softly.

Freddie opened his eyes, practically floating from savasana, face flushed from exertion.

“Thank you, Kendra. I feel awesome. Tired but awesome,” he grinned.

“Not aching too much anywhere?” she asked, standing up gracefully.

Freddie groaned as he stood up, rolling his shoulders as he checked in with himself. Kendra smiled wryly at the action – at least she could trust an athlete to know his own body.

“No, not too much,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she frowned, hands on hips.

“I promise. I know the difference between aching from a good workout to aching from injury and pain. This is good,” Freddie insisted.

Well alrighty then.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Kendra said happily, rolling her neck from side to side to loosen tension, “Take a shower, Andersen, I can smell you from here.”

Freddie barked out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“Care to join me?”

“In your dreams.”

Freddie just smirked, sending a shiver down her spine. There. That was it, the spark she’d been missing for so many years.

“See you on Wednesday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Freddie nodded.

From: Freddie I have a return date March 7th

From: Kendra That’s amazing! I told you that you could do it! These last eight sessions have really paid off! Do you feel ready?

From: Freddie As always, I should’ve trusted that you were right lol I think so? My body does for certain

From: Kendra And your mind? If you don’t feel mentally ready, Freddie, please don’t let them push you

From: Freddie Thanks, I appreciate that I think it’s more nerves than not mentally ready? Like, I don’t want to let the team down. And I don’t want critics to call me washed up

From: Kendra You could never let the team down They can see your passion, see how hard you’re working And screw the critics. They don’t know you or your body You are the furthest thing from washed up, so don’t talk about yourself like that

From: Freddie I’ve missed your fire. Yes ma’am

From: Kendra Damn right you have. That’s more like it

From: Freddie Can I still finish off my course of session with you? And maybe carry on for a few more afterwards? Just to make sure I still have that confidence?

From: Kendra As many as you want I’m here for whatever you need

From: Freddie Whatever I need? I like the sound of that

“So today’s your last official yoga rehab session with Freddie. How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, it’s all gone really well. It’s been nice reconnecting with him, as well as seeing him grow back into his conditioning and confidence. You were right, Mimi, this was a great idea,” Kendra grinned.

Mimi and Celeste both smiled at her, but the smiles quickly turned hesitant. What? What was wrong?

“Has he said something? Have the Canes said something?” she asked, starting to worry.

Had she done something wrong and he hadn’t had the guts to tell her?

“No, no, god no. Freddie’s had nothing but high praise for you since he got here and I have no doubt he’ll be saying the same to his team,” Celeste said quickly.

“He talks about me?” Kendra asked, not knowing whether to ignore the butterflies in her stomach or not.

“He does. And he always has a smile on his face when he leaves here, same as you. We just…”

“Just what?” she prompted.

“We just want you to be careful,” Celeste said, finishing her sister’s sentence.

What the hell?

Mimi winced at Kendra's expression before clearing her throat.

“When I met you, it was obvious that part of you was missing,” Mimi said softly, Celeste nodding.

What?

“What do you mean?” Kendra frowned.

“This fun flirty side of you? These beaming smiles? It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but seeing you around Freddie makes so much sense,” Mimi explained.

Okay that was crazy.

“We really are just friends,” Kendra said, shaking her head.

Mimi and Celeste send her matching disbelieving looks.

“No, really,” Kendra said, shrugging, “We always had this flirty banter but it was never anything more than that.”

“Never anything more?” Celeste said, raising an eyebrow, “Not even once?”

“No!” Kendra laughed, “He would come to my yoga classes, we’d get coffee or smoothies occasionally, sometimes lunch, but never anything more.”

“I really don’t think you see what we see. What no doubt everyone sees when they watch the two of you,” Mimi said.

“You can’t fake that kind of chemistry, Kendra. He clearly has feelings for you,” Celeste added.

What?

He had feelings for her?

And everyone saw it?

Mimi and Celeste watched her obvious turmoil with soft pitying smiles.

“Think about it. Just think about it. That’s all we’re saying,” Mimi said, her voice warm and reassuring, “And be careful?”

“You’re our girl, okay? We just want you to be happy,” Celeste said, smiling.

“Uh yeah, sure. I’ll think about it,” Kendra murmured.

It was all she could do to walk in a straight line for their staff kitchen, desperately needing a cold bottle of water to sip on while she sorted through her thoughts.

She’d always found Freddie attractive. That was something she could admit to without hesitation. But it was something she’d buried deep, knowing she could never act on it. Bringing that acknowledgement back up to the surface was terrifying, because it wasn’t just a physical attraction – it was everything about him. If she let herself think about how attracted she was to him, let herself think about his laugh, and his kindness, and his terrible taste in coffee, and his soft smile when he talked about his family, and literally everything else about him…she felt like she would explode.

How was she supposed to behave normally around him in their last scheduled yoga session, when all of these dangerous feelings were bubbling at the surface?

No, she had to find a way. She couldn’t ruin everything, not when she’d just got him back into her life. She just couldn’t.

Somehow, she managed to keep a lid on her emotions for her entire day until Freddie’s session at the end of her evening, running through the most challenging routines that pushed him to his limit, but left him with a smile on his face. He was ready. He was really ready for his return to play in two days time.

So why did it feel like everything was ending?

Freddie had stayed mostly quiet, focusing on his movements, but there were times in between flows that she caught him staring at her as if he was thinking. Thinking hard. It was almost off-putting, if it didn’t make her feel giddy. Were her friends right? Were her feelings really reciprocated?

Whatever was going through his mind, she didn’t know, but even she could feel a trembling intensity between the two of them that she couldn’t put a finger on. It felt like…anticipation.

When their class was over, Freddie insisted on waiting for her to grab all of her things, Mimi and Celeste just smirking as he waved goodbye to them, escorting her out to her car. This time he apparently hadn’t parked that far away from her, so he was insistent on walking her properly, although it could definitely be classed as more of an extremely slow stroll rather than a walk.

Like he was drawing this out as much as she was.

“You must be freezing,” Freddie murmured, “Here take my jacket.”

Before Kendra could form a word of protest at his sudden words, Freddie was slipping his jacket off and placing it over her shoulders. The warmth immediately hit her body, thrumming through her veins, and she knew without a doubt that her burning cheeks gave her thoughts away.

“There. Better?”

It was all Kendra could do to nod, staying silent as Freddie made a grunt of approval. Why was this affecting her so much? It was a just a jacket. It was just a jacket, right? It didn’t stop her sinking into the warmth though, picking up the scent of his cologne, ignoring the way her heart started beating that little bit faster.

She had to say something. She had to say something.

“Freddie…I need to ask you a question,” she said softly.

“Go for it,” he mused.

“Did you know it was me when you agreed to do a yoga rehab course?”

“What?”

Kendra exhaled a little shakily, but shook her head. She needed to know.

“When your team suggested yoga classes as part of your rehab treatment plan, how did you pick a teacher? Did you know I would be running this for you?”

“Ah.”

A single word. How ominous.

But Kendra just stayed silent, unwilling to say anything else before he did. She needed to know. It would change everything.

“The team gave me a list of options, with short descriptions about the teacher and any feedback from other clients. And…the moment I saw your name on the list, I didn’t have to think any further or look at anyone else,” he murmured.

“What?”

Freddie let out a shaky breath, halting his walk, so Kendra stopped next to him. What did he mean by that?

“I took it as a sign from the universe that I finally had a chance to make up for letting our friendship fizzle out. You were one of the best parts about Anaheim for me, and I was so wrapped up in my head in Toronto that I was stupid enough to let our friendship go. To let you go. I wanted to see you again. I knew that you would be amazing from the yoga side of things, but to get the chance to say that I’m sorry? I couldn’t pass that up.”

As he spoke, his words clear and his expression more serious than she’d ever seen, her heart started racing like it never had before. He really meant all of that, didn’t he? He really chose her?

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she eventually said, a little more breathless than she would care to admit.

“Yes, I do,” Freddie replied, huffing out a laugh, “You deserved better than I treated you.”

He looked relieved, like her being mad at him was even a possibility (not with them, never with him), but she just shook her head. Yeah, it had hurt at the time, when she finally resigned to losing contact with him – but that was over 7 years ago. With time, that hurt had faded into an ache, which in turn faded to occasional wistfulness. She could never hold a grudge against him for a trade, and certainly not for following his dream. That just wasn’t who Kendra was.

She started walking again, Freddie wasting no time in joining her, even though their steps were practically glacial in speed.

“Maybe I deserved a little better communication but it was so long ago, Freddie. I’m not holding onto past grudges. And honestly, the fact that you chose me because you wanted to reconnect? That’s all I needed.”

“Really?” he asked, voice hopeful.

“Really really,” she grinned, “Although I’m sure you can think of something to make it up to me.”

A grin spread across Freddie’s face too, making her feel a little giddy.

“Anything you wanted, Kendra Lee.”

“That is a dangerous offer, Frederik Andersen,” she shot back.

He just shrugged, grin not leaving his face. “You know I’m good for it.”

This, these flirty exchanges, served to do nothing other than light her blood on fire. Why was it always so easy to slip back into this with him like nothing had changed? That was a good thing, right?

“Come out with me on St Patrick’s Day night,” she blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed, but she just laughed.

“I’m going to a karaoke bar with Mimi and Celeste – join us,” she explained.

“That’s what you want? Out of all the things you could’ve asked for…you want me to join you for karaoke,” he said incredulously.

Kendra inhaled sharply at the implication in his words but nodded anyway, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

“I do. It’ll be fun, to see you outside of work, and to do something with you that we’ve never done before. We already have a little booth booked and it’ll be better than cramming into a regular bar for St Patrick’s Day,” she said firmly.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief, before eventually nodding.

“Alright, I’ll be there. Text me the address,” he mused.

Kendra just grinned, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach as they finally reached her car.

“Thanks for lending me your jacket, Freddie.”

“Any time.”

By the time the evening of the 17th March rolled around, Kendra was buzzing. She'd not seen Freddie since his debut back on the ice, him having given the three of them tickets to say thank you. Watching him win? It was everything, and she couldn't have been prouder of him. But with his schedule and hers, he hadn't scheduled any more classes like he'd said he'd wanted to, so Kendra had been limited to text messages, hoping that her daydreams weren't just silly fantasies.

Kendra, Mimi, and Celeste had been in O'Malley's for an hour, and Freddie still hadn’t arrived. The longer that time went on, the more disappointed she felt, not wanting to believe that after everything they’d regrown between them that he would just ghost her. No, that wasn’t Freddie. It couldn’t be Freddie.

“Breathe. Have a drink. He promised he’d be here, right?” Celeste said with a sweet smile.

“He did. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have changed his mind,” Kendra sighed.

“Hey, no sad faces. It’s St Patrick’s Day and we’re having a good time!” Mimi said cheerfully.

Kendra just groaned, taking a big gulp of her beer, her friends just cheering. They were right. She couldn’t dwell on this. If Freddie was going to come or whether he wasn’t, she was still out with her friends to have a good time. That was what she needed to focus on.

“Up next, Kendra singing Red!”

“Ooh girl that’s you, go!” Mimi squealed.

Kendra took a deep breath to steel herself, sliding out of their booth with a confident smile. If anyone could make her feel better, it would be Taylor Swift, she knew that much. As the intro music starting playing, she focused on letting it flow through her, tapping her foot in time with the beat.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street, Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly, Loving him is like trying to change your mind, Once you're already flying through the free fall, Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all.”

As if summoned by magic, the door to the pub opened, and Freddie walked in. Within seconds he saw her standing on the karaoke stage and stopped in his tracks, offering her a small stunned smile. He came. He didn’t ghost her. Freddie actually came as she asked him. That had to mean something, right?

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes, Tell myself it's time now gotta let go, But moving on from him is impossible, When I still see it all in my head, In burning red, Burning, it was red.”

She found herself pouring her emotions into the words, pouring everything she felt about Freddie into the song, not able to take her eyes off him. By now, Mimi and Celeste had noticed how she was performing just for Freddie – she could see their grins from across the room – and a few other patrons were starting to notice too. But she couldn’t stop herself. Her body felt almost out of control, singing her heart out to the only man who’d ever truly held it.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known, Missing him was dark gray, all alone, Forgetting him was like trying to know, Somebody you never met, 'Cause loving him was red, Yeah, yeah, red, Burning red.”

His eyes were almost wild, locked onto her like she was the only person in the room. It was a heady feeling, giving her the confidence she needed to finish the song with a smile.

“And that's why he's spinning 'round in my head, Comes back to me, burning red, Yeah, yeah.”

She curtseyed dramatically to cheers and applause as the song ended, a wide grin on her face, and she moved to step off the stage, Freddie was already there with a hand extended to help her down. She took it silently, inhaling sharply as Freddie didn’t let go – instead her guided her across the room to the bar, the crowd parting with whatever intensity was on his face, so much so that they were served immediately.

“Two baby guinnesses,” Freddie asked politely.

The barman just laughed, nodding as he poured the shots, Freddie not letting go of her hand even as he paid for their drinks. He passed her one of the shots with a hopeful smile, the sweetness in his eyes intoxicating, so she clinked the glass gently with his, the cool liquid sliding down her throat smoothly.

“I wasn’t sure if you would make it,” Kendra said, offering him a small smile.

“I was thinking. Thinking about a lot of things. And I have something I need to say,” Freddie murmured, voice barely audible above the rumble of the room’s conversation.

“Oh?” she said, breath caught in her throat.

“I need to be honest with you, Kendra. I don’t think I can do any more classes with you.”

Oh. Everything in her chest felt like it was crumbling, Kendra barely able to get a breath in.

Wait, what?

“It would be incredible unprofessional of me,” Freddie added.

“Unprofessional? Freddie, if I’ve done something-”

The last thing Kendra was expecting was for Freddie to cut off her words with a kiss.

And not just any kiss. A toe-curling, melt into his arms, curl her fingers into his shirt kind of kiss. As his hands cupped her face and his lips moved with hers, it was all she could do to let out a soft little moan, interrupted only at the chorus of cheers and whistles around them. Freddie broke the kiss with a soft laugh, Kendra just feeling dazed, but his shy smile just made her giddy all over again.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. I just didn’t think I could,” he admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

They were right. Mimi and Kendra were right.

“What changed?” she managed to ask.

“We changed,” he said. “We’ve both grown so much in ourselves since I left Anaheim and I am proud of both of us for taking what we need to make ourselves happy and successful. But I don’t want to lie to myself any more, thinking that I don’t need you too.”

“You need me?” she said, surprised.

“I do, in every way. I was an idiot for so many years, Kendra. I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said seriously.

“Jesus, Freddie, knock a girl for six why don’t you,” she said, huffing out a laugh.

He froze at her words, clearly fearing the worst, but Kendra just grinned. How could she be anything but excited?

“I’m yours, Freddie Andersen. I always have been,” she said happily.

The smile that spread across his face was worth a thousand lifetimes. This was what she had been waiting for. Exactly this.

“Now, buy me another drink and sing a song with me, and I’ll consider kissing you again,” Kendra grinned.

He laughed in disbelief but grinned so widely in response that it made her giddy. “One blue moon pale ale, coming right up.”

Her favourite girls night drink? How did he remember everything she’d ever said? They were really doing this. They were finally doing this.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” she laughed.

“Probably. You love it though.”

That she did.

#my writing #frederik andersen fic #luck of the puck exchange #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen x oc #frederik andersen fanfic #carolina hurricanes fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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senditcolton · 2 months

Text

I Hope I Never Lose You

song inspo: random instrumentals (although this is the music for the dance scene) word count: 4.5k warnings: none, just pure romance

a/n: what started as a response to a request - a request not even directed at me specifically - has turned into an entire storyline and universe that i have completely fallen in love with. so, tiff (@smileysvech), thank you for planting the concept of Prince Andrei into my head. and a very happy birthday. 👑💙

In all the months of your investiture, the castle had never felt this alive. Usually, a ball brought in a large amount of excitement – the promise of music, food, and dancing, all which made for a palpable atmosphere. But this evening was different.

Although, if one took into consideration the fact that Carolyna’s eldest prince had returned from his year-long voyage at sea, the enthusiasm that seemed to bleed from the palace walls was completely understandable.

You had spent most of your day dodging other servants running down the hallways, arms filled with bundles cloth napkins and boxes of candles. Part of you was thankful that you were not requested to paint during the ball itself, the new portrait of Prince Evgeny deemed enough. You told yourself that you more than content to stay in your bedchambers all night sketching or reading.

However, there was a slight longing to be in attendance. To be able to see the ballroom aglow with golden candlelight, the swirl of color from the ballgowns, and feel the joy radiating from the guests at the return of their Prince.

You also wanted to see Andrei’s face when he was reunited with his brother. If you had been charged with painting anything that night, that was the moment that you would’ve captured.

Wiping your paint-stained hands off on the cloth hanging from the easel, you glance at the clock. The doors had just opened for the ball – you could hear the chatter of guests and the distant sound of trumpets wafting down the halls, sneaking into your enclosed studio. You sigh, taking in your current work in progress, debating whether you should stay here for the night or come back later.

Eventually, you decide leaving was the best option: go back to your bedchamber for a nap and some food before returning. Maybe later, when the ball is in full swing and hectic, Andrei could sneak away and visit you. It is a hope that you know is far-fetched, at least for tonight. Andrei loved and missed his brother more than anything. He wouldn’t leave in the middle of the celebration thrown specifically for Evgeny.

Still, one could dream.

As you sneak down the halls, avoiding the arrival of the guests, your mind toys with the fantasy of Andrei slipping through your studio door. He would look so handsome in his regalia, the medals hanging from his chest.

You wish that you could see him tonight.

That is the dream you hold onto as you push through the doors to the servants’ quarters – a dream that is quickly interrupted by a shriek of your name falling from the lips of one of your closest friends. You barely have a chance to turn around before Svetlana is barging into you, her calloused fingers digging into your upper arms.

“You are never going to believe this,” the younger girl yells, pulling you through the common area towards your bedchamber, despite your attempts to reign her in.

“Lana, slow down. What is going on?”

“You’ll see,” she replies, continuing to drag you down the hallway. A few curious glances are tossed in your direction as well as jealous looks cast at you from some of the other girls. You are uncertain where their anger is coming and why it is directed at you from until Svetlana stops in front of your room.

“Look!” she declares, swinging your door open and your jaw drops when you see the embroidered fabric laying on your bed.

You walk in, your eyes dancing over the ballgown splayed over the sheets. It is beautiful; the stark white contrasting beautifully with the velvet overlay, shimmering in your favorite color. The metallic floral embroidery dances across the fabric, trailing up from the trim of the skirt and the long sleeves to transform into a full garden on the bodice.

“I mean, I was helping the master seamstress embroider those flowers but I honestly thought this was for the Queen or one of the other ladies of the court but it was made for you?! That’s insane! The Prince’s personal guard dropped it off earlier today and I had to, like, stand watch outside your door to stop the other girls for obvious reasons and - ”

“Wait,” you say, interrupting Lana’s ranting. “The Prince’s personal guard?”

“Yeah! What’s his name?” Lana says, her eyebrows furrowing. “Pasha? Petrov?”

“Pyotr,” you whisper, your hands running over the gown’s material.

“Pyotr! That’s it.” Lana says, walking over to stand behind you. “Why did you get a dress?”

“I guess my attendance is wanted at the ball.”

“But you’re clearly not painting. Or at least you shouldn’t be in a gown this fine.”

“I don’t know,” you say, the words not a total lie. The information that Pytor delivered this stunning gown had you guessing that it was Andrei extended the invitation. But that was still merely a hunch. “Perhaps they want to have me there when Prince Evgeny’s portrait is presented.”

“Well, maybe I should’ve gotten into painting instead of sewing,” Lana teases as she playfully jostles your shoulder. Your eyes finally tear away from the gown, meeting with her sparkling hazel ones.

“Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course! We have to be fast; the ball has already started!”

Lana flies into a flurry, locking the door and turning to you. Her voice is a comforting metronome and you follow her instructions as she helps you into the dress. You are thankful she was there; not just because she was a seamstress and knew how to properly lace you into the gown but because her excited buzzing made the storm of anxiety in your mind quiet.

This had to be a dream, one that you were surely going to wake from at any moment. Your job as a painter was to be out of sight. The only knowledge of your existence to anyone outside of the royal family and the other servants were the painted canvases hanging on the castle walls. But now, here you were, wearing a gown that you couldn’t hope to possess even in your wildest fantasies.

Once you were fully dressed, Lana moves to your hair, retying it into a more elegant updo than the pulled back hairstyle it was placed in earlier. She doesn’t stop there, adding a tiny pat of butter to your face, smoothing your eyebrows and moisturizing your skin. She even manages to paint a bit of color onto your cheeks and lips with a piece of beetroot.

“You’re lucky that it was beets instead of radishes tonight,” she teases with a wink.

“Thank you, Lana. I could’ve never done this without you.”

“Well, maybe you could tell the royal family that the seamstresses should get an invite too. Considering their finery wouldn’t exist without us,” she quips as she smears the honey onto your lips, the gloss reflecting the light from the small candle on your bedside table.

“I’ll make sure to pass on the message,” you reply, your tone light but the words sincere. Lana didn’t know that you had the ear of the Crown Prince, one of the few men who could make that happen.

“You better,” she grins, stepping away. Her eyes rove over your face and body, admiring her handiwork before turning to look at you fully. “Perfect. You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you do. You’ll be the belle of the ball. All the other maidens will burn with jealousy. Trust me.”

“I kind of have to considering we have no mirrors.”

“Would I ever steer you wrong?” Lana laughs, extending her hand to help lift you off the bed. “Now, come on! We’ve got to get you to the ballroom quick, before the entire party is over.”

You are ushered you out of your personal quarters and through the common room, Svetlana trailing behind you, holding up the hem your skirt to not sully the fine material. Her vocal haste pushes you to quickly jog down the halls towards the ballroom, your combined giggles bouncing off the vaulted ceilings. You finally stop at the closed double doors, the chatter of guests and the faint strains of music just on the other side. A deep breath rushes through you as you stare at the oak, your heartrate increasing.

“I still don’t understand. I’m just a painter,” you whisper but the words echo off the quiet hallways onto Lana’s ears. She finishes laying out your skirt before moving to stand next to you, gently taking a hold of your hand and squeezing.

“And yet, here you are in a beautiful gown about to enter a ball at the express invitation of the palace,” she says, her own voice dreamy. “Enjoy it.”

There is no hesitance as you turn to Lana, throwing your arms around her and pulling her into a hug. A whispered thank you is the last words you exchange before she is disappearing back down the hallways and out of sight. You take one last deep breath, steeling yourself before you knock gently on the door.

With an ease and elegance that has you momentarily faltering, the door swings open. You slowly walk over the threshold, your eyes dancing over the crowd. A few curious eyes are directed your way, drawn by the movement, but you simply breathe, walking down the first flight of steps to the landing of the grand staircase. Standing there is Dmitry, the royal caller and you catch his eye. He smiles at you before clearing his throat, his resounding voice pulling the remaining guest’s attention as he announces your presence.

You look towards the King and Queen, sitting on the raised dais and extend them a deep curtsy before rising, meeting Queen Elena smile with your own before turning your attention to the crowd. Your eyes scan over the sea of faces until they meet the dark brown irises that you were searching for.

Andrei is standing there, in his royal blue regalia, looking as handsome as you had imagined him. And he is looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

The heat rises in your cheeks under his heavy stare, your head ducking down as you descend the remaining stairs. You weave through the crowd, feeling the eyes on you and hearing the hushed whispers of other guests. But you find that the attention slips off you, like water off a duck’s wing. Your mind is only on Andrei. It seems as if his mind is on you as well because in what feels like mere moments, he is there standing in front of you.

“Your Radiance,” you say, curtsying to him.

“My lady,” he replies, returning your curtsy with a bow. There is a brief moment of silence between the two of you, where you just look at each other. “I see you got my invitation,” he whispers softly for only you to hear.

“It wasn’t your most subtle work,” you tease, a small smile playing on your lips. It is a smile that Andrei returns before clearing his throat, his posture straightening as he speaks.

“Come. There is someone I want you to meet.”

He extends his arm to you, an invitation that you gladly take before he is guiding you across the marble floor. You try to remain confident even though the stares have increased due to your presence on the prince’s arm. Andrei seems unaffected, pushing through the crowd with an ease that was proffered to him as the Crown Prince. He doesn’t halt your journey until he has stopped in front of another gentleman wearing the greys and greens of the Carolyna naval uniform.

“This is Prince Evgeny Svechnikov. My brother,” Andrei says, before offering your name and title to Evgeny.

“An honor to meet you, Your Radiance,” you say, extending Evgeny another deep curtsy. He takes your hand, placing a small kiss on your knuckles before meeting your eye with a small grin.

“It’s just Your Honor now,” Evgeny explains, his teasing grin jumping back to Andrei. “I’m not a prince, simply a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. Drei knows this but likes to pretend I didn’t abdicate.”

“You’re still a Prince of Carolyna, whether or not you have the official title,” Andrei quips back, jostling his brother on the shoulder.

“Regardless, it is still a pleasure to meet you,” you say, your voice still formal. “I hope your time at sea wasn’t too difficult.”

“A lot of fresh air and plenty of time to think. Easier being in the Navy when your country is at peace,” he replies. “So, you are the royal portrait artist that Andrei has filled pages of letters with.”

“I suppose so,” you stutter, looking back at Andrei with a raised eyebrow. The flush on his cheeks surprises you at first but soon his embarrassment relaxes you, the urge to tease him goading you on. “Pages, you say?”

“Oh yes. Every time the ship made port, there was a letter waiting for me filled with praise about the new painter that was teaching my brother to get in touch with his creative side. I must admire your tenacity, seeing as the Drei I know gets frustrated when he doesn’t perfect a skill in the first attempt.”

Evgeny’s lighthearted quips makes you relax, the smile on your lips growing wider.

“He’s been doing better. Has only broken three brushes in frustration this past week.”

The laughter that falls from Evgeny’s lips is similar to Andrei’s yet unique in its own right, filling the air as he claps his brother on the back of the shoulder. Your own giggle follows as you see Andrei’s blush deepen, his head shaking.

“Why must you turn everything into a joke at my expense, Geno?” he asks, the loving tone betraying the anger the words could portray.

“Because it’s so easy to get you riled, little brother,” Evgeny replies, playfully wresting Andrei under his arm, mussing his slicked back hair. Andrei manages to wriggle his way free, his hands smoothing his uniform and pushing back his hair before politely nodding to the few guests who took an interest in the brief commotion. It is only when their eyes turn away does Andrei jab his elbow into his brother’s side as a small payback.

There is an indescribable feeling in your chest as you watch Andrei interact with his brother. It was abundantly clear how much he loved Evgeny. His smile seemed brighter, his laughter came easier, and it felt as if he was more settled into his own body.

The conversation between the three of your flows, various topics flitting in and out like the moths in the garden. A glass of champagne had been placed in your hand and was refilled more times than you cared to admit. It felt like hours of talking before Andrei was summoned away to perform his other princely duties, mingling and brushing elbows with other dignitaries. His departure leaves you and Geno alone on the side of the ballroom. Your body turns to face the crowd, eyes taking in the couples dancing, the beautiful music lifting over the noise of the crowd. You take a sip of your champagne, a pleasant buzz running through your body.

“So,” Evgeny speaks, breaking the silence. “How long have you and Drei been in love?”

The unexpected question has you choking on the sparkling liquid, your glass quickly pulled away from your lips as you compose yourself. Once you’ve gotten a hold of your bearings, you look towards Evgeny who is smirking down at you, his own champagne flute pressed to his lips, an eyebrow quirked as if waiting for an answer.

Your eyes quickly dart around the ballroom, making sure that there was no prying attention on the conversation you shared with the eldest prince. In a room full of eyes and ears, keeping the secret of your and Andrei’s relationship was paramount. Once you were satisfied, you shoot a quick glance back to Evgeny before keeping your attention forward to not arouse suspicions.

“Did Andrei tell you?” you ask, the prior mention of you being the starring subject in Andrei’s numerous letters filling your mind.

“No, he never said a word,” Evgeny replies. “But I know my brother. The way he looks at you… it’s more than just simple admiration for the painter who is giving him lessons.”

You could blame the alcohol for the warmth that radiates from your chest down to your toes. But if you did, it would be a lie. It is Evgeny’s words, his quiet assurance that Andrei is telling the truth when he says that he loves you. That confirmation coming from someone who knows Andrei best and could figure out your shared secret within only a few minutes of meeting you sets off a blaze in your heart. You breathe deeply, reigning in your emotions as you look out across the ballroom. Your eyes easily find Andrei, his blue uniform stark against a sea of red, white, and black gowns and suits. He is conversing with what appears to be other generals, his stature strong and regal.

“May I ask you a question, Prince Evgeny,” you inquire, turning your attention back to his brother.

“Please, you can call me Geno,” he replies, that easy smile on his face. “And yes, of course.”

“Why did you abdicate? You’re the eldest son of the King so the Crown was yours by right. Why give it up?”

“To be honest, I was never very good at it. Bureaucracy,” Evgeny laughs. “Plus, it never appealed to me: sitting in rooms filled with papers, giving commands to people I never met, having every self-interested bastard whispering their ideas in my ear and having to sift through the shit to find what best served the country. I much prefer the Navy where I know and trust the men by my side, where I can feel the work I’m doing, knowing for certain that my actions are helping the country I love.”

You let his words sink in, your eyes trailing back to Andrei. The way Evgeny describes the role of King weighs on you, the pressure of such a demanding job feeding your concern for the man you loved.

“I wouldn’t worry about Drei though,” Evgeny continues as if he can sense your apprehension. “He’s everything I’m not: driven but not demanding, loyal but not blindly so, commanding while still remaining respectful. That’s a rare combination of qualities to have. Plus, he’s devoted to the people of Carolyna. I know that he will always have their best interests at heart.”

Your heart swells again at the description Evgeny gives to his brother, the pride in his voice clear. Your eyes stayed locked onto Andrei, watching as he concludes his conversation before turning his own gaze around the room. It seems instantaneous, the way they lock onto yours and your heart pounds as he starts to make his way back to you.

“Andrei loves the people,” Evgeny’s voice sounds again. There is a brief pause, your eyes still locked onto Andrei’s. You slightly jump when you feel Evgeny’s warm breath next to your ear, his words hushed and he whispers to you. “He loves you. And if there is one thing I know for certain about my brother, it is that he fights for those he loves.”

Your head turns quickly, looking back towards Evgeny, that now familiar grin on his face. He takes your hand, bowing as he places a polite kiss on your knuckles. An instant later, he is gone, vanishing into the crowd around you. You turn your head back, only to come face to face with Andrei. He shoots you that crooked grin before glancing around, no doubt looking for his brother.

“What was Geno whispering to you about?” he asks. “Talking about me again?”

“Only good things, I promise,” you reply, keeping your voice light and teasing as to not betray the emotions brought on by Evgeny’s hushed declaration.

“Lucky I trust you,” Andrei says, his smile never leaving his lips.

You simply return the smile, your head ducking down in shyness under the weight of his gaze. Around you, you can hear the music slowing, reaching its soft crescendo before the guests applaud. Your eyes glance up again, connecting to Andrei’s gaze once more. He has an indecipherable look on his face, as if he was having an internal debate with himself.

The feeling of his hand on yours startles you, but you allow him to gently remove the glass from your grip, placing it on the tray of one of the passing servers before returning his attention to you. Andrei extends his hand, his palm upwards.

“Dance with me.”

The words are a gentle demand, tinged with hope. You want to keep staring in his eyes but the weight of others looks tugs at your focus, your own eyes darting around the room filled with high-ranking individuals and many an eligible maiden.

“I don’t think we should,” you whisper, your gaze turning back to him.

You wish you didn’t notice the hurt flicker across Andrei’s face at your response. His hand curls in on itself before disappearing behind his back, a sigh lifting his shoulders. Andrei gives you a polite bow – a silent agreement – and you can tell that he is about to turn away.

“But perhaps,” you speak again, stopping him in his tracks and pulling his gaze back to you. “Perhaps I was lost. Confused. Maybe had a few too many drinks.”

Andrei’s laugh rumbles through his chest at your words, a laugh that you share before looking up at him, your eyes wide and earnest.

“And perhaps you were a gentleman and saved me before I made a fool of myself. Made sure I was alright.”

The smile that Andrei gives you is intoxicating, his eyes shining with the same desire that was surely reflected in yours. His hand extends again and this time, your reaches out towards him. There is still a brief hesitancy, made clear by the pause and slight curl of your fingers. But is a miniscule moment, one that passes when you find that last sliver of courage and slip your hand into his. Andrei’s fingers close around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as a silent comfort before he leads you out onto the dance floor.

The candlelight reflects off the embroidery on your gown as Andrei pulls you to the center of the marble floor, spinning you to face him, the velvet hem brushing against the stone. He reaches out, placing his free hand on the small of your back and you follow his lead, your own hand landing delicately on his bicep, feeling the strength of the muscle underneath the fabric. A gasp escapes you as he pulls you closer to him, your bodies almost touching. You can’t stop the way your eyes bounce around the ballroom, the stares of the other guests now impossible to ignore.

“Everyone is looking at us,” you whisper, feeling the heat race up the back of your neck, your heart fluttering in your chest like a newly captured bird.

“Just keep your eyes on me,” Andrei murmurs.

You are helpless to follow his directions, your gaze jumping up to lock with his. The instant they connect, your heartbeat stills. Andrei is staring at you with pure devotion and admiration. It was as if you were the finest painting in any gallery, like you were the most beautiful sculpture in the world.

In his eyes, you were no longer the artist. You were beauty animated. You were art itself.

“Just me,” he says again.

You swallow back the tidal wave of emotions that threaten to spill over, blinking before giving Andrei a subtle nod of your head and offering him a timid smile.

Andrei’s chest lifts in a deep breath, an action you copy before relaxing into his hold. You can hear the music begin and it is another moment before Andrei starts to move. It is slow, measured, and you just keep your gaze aligned with Andrei’s as he leads you around the dance floor, falling into the ebb and flow of the melody bouncing off the candelabras above you.

The two of you continue to dance, your dress flowing around you as Andrei keeps you secure in his hold. The curious and somewhat judgmental stares that you were previously acutely aware of fade away the longer you are in Andrei’s grasp. Soon, it feels as if the two of you are alone in the ballroom.

“I love you,” Andrei whispers. The declaration cuts through you, piercing you deep. “I know that we aren’t supposed to be together; by law or rule or general propriety. But I don’t care. I will not give up on you. On us.” He sighs, his eyes softening with melancholy. “That is, not unless you tell me to.”

“Never,” you say, your grip tightening on him as you step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. He smiles, your own fierce promise fueling his words.

“You are the love of my life,” he vows. “And I know that if I ever had to live without you – if our connection was severed by distance or by time, my heart would shatter, never to be mended again.”

Andrei’s words have captured you, enveloping you in his pure love and devotion. You are acutely aware of the warmth of his hand in yours, the feeling of his hand slowly rising from the small of your back. His fingertips gently brush against the bare skin between your shoulder blades, pushing a gasp from you at the sparks that his touch brings.

“At least, not until you returned to me,” Andrei murmurs, those dark brown irises staring into your very soul, reading you plain and leaving you bare. “That is what our love is: eternal.”

“Timeless,” you reply, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, one which Andrei returns.

“Yes. Timeless.”

His fingers dance over your exposed skin once more before his hands fall away from you. The departure of his touch throws you back to the present moment, the cacophony of applause from the guests hitting your eardrums. Andrei bows to you, your hand still in his. You follow suit, bending in a deep curtsy before lifting yourself slowly, looking back to him.

You find that his gaze is already glued to your frame and you watch with breathless anticipation as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your hand. Directly over the spot where the makeshift ring he gifted to you all those months ago sat.

A subtle indication of the promise that he made to you, one that he intended to keep. The promise of a love that was enduring, constant, unending.

A love that would last forever.

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