#I'll probably put up a challenge files later.

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 53]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

"Are you done with your breakfast?" You asked Haneul. She nodded, going to put her dishes in the sink and washing her hands. You ushered her into the bedroom.

"Sorry, you'll have to stick with me for a bit, baby. Until I get your school sorted out." You told Haneul as you dressed her.

"It's okay, unnie. I can read while you work!" She giggled. You wished you were like Haneul, open and happy to accept the new challenges ahead of you in an entirely new country. But you were scared to do this all on your own. Your support system was gone, this was your new home now.

"Thank you." You kissed her forehead and stood up once she was dressed. Haneul waited patiently for you to get ready. You also packed some snacks for her to have if she'd like.

"Alright. Let's go." You held her hand and left the apartment. You called for a cab to take you to the office building.

"Wow, it's huge." Haneul said in awe, pressed to the window, as the cab pulled up to the building.

"Thanks. Keep the change." You handed the cab driver the money and ushered Haneul out. Habitually, you bowed to the doorman that opened the door for you.

"Hi, can I help you?" One of the guards asked in English, probably cautious of you in a mask.

"Umm, I'm looking for-"

"Producer Indigo!" Someone shouted in Korean. You and Haneul turned around to see a lady rushing over to you. She was dressed in office wear, with files and papers in her hands. You bowed gratefully to the guard and headed over to the woman.

"I'm Kim Yoojin. Nice to meet you, it's an honour." She bowed, reaching out to shake your hand. You chuckled and bowed to her too as you shook her hand.

"This is Haneul." You introduced. Haneul shyly clung to your leg as Yoojin waved to her.

"Come, I'll take you to your studio." Yoojin waved for you to follow her. Haneul held your hand and walked alongside with you.

"We know you're still in the process of getting Haneul situated into a school here. But in the mean time, if you'd like, we do have a kids play area that is supervised for parents that bring their kids."

"That's good to know. Maybe I'll check it out later. Thanks." You nodded your head.

"Here we are. Producers are on the second highest floor, after our CEO's floor." She told you, holding the door open for you.

"We've set up the furnishings of the studio as per your request. The equipment you have sent over from Korea have not been touched, they're still in the packing boxes." She explained. You nodded, looking around the rest of the floor. There was a small coffee and snacks pantry bar right at the front.

"Here we are. Producer Indigo." She opened the door. The door had your name on it. The studio was big, a lot bigger than you had expected it to be.

"So the pantry out front is free for all. This floor is restricted access so you shouldn't have to worry about security." She assured.

"It's a lot bigger than I thought." You noted.

"Our branch in Korea told us to make sure to arrange a big studio space for you during your time here." She smiled. You couldn't help the small snort that escaped you.

"Should have known." You put your bag down. Before you and Yoojin spoke business, you sat Haneul down on the big chair for her to colour of read, she was fine and could entertain herself for a bit.

"Here is your company tag, it will be your access card to different areas around the building." She handed it to you.

"This was a map of the building and your company issued tablet." She laid the items out.

"And this is your company welcome bag, there's a hoodie, zip up jacket, shirts, shorts, all that." She chuckled as you looked through the bag. This was a lot of stuff but you guess it was all for the branding. Even Yoojin seemed a little embarrassed by it.

"If you want any more, just let me know and I'll procure them for you. I'll be your main point of contact since I handled relations between the American and Korean offices." She informed.

"Alright. Thanks, Yoojin." You nodded, putting everything aside for now. It was a lot to handle at one go.

"You've settled into your apartment, okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Thankfully, I've had the past week to settle in. The area is good, safe and there's an asian mart nearby so I don't have to go far to find what I need." You explained.

"That's good to hear. I know it's not easy uprooting and coming here with Haneul alone. But I hope your time here with us is productive and fruitful." She smiled softly, genuinely meaning that.

"I hope so too."

"I'll leave you to unpack and settle in. This is my card with my number. Let me know if you need anything, regarding business or not." She giggled. You knew what she meant, she wanted to be friends outside of work. Maybe you could but now, you were patching up the wall around your heart.

"Thanks for your help, Yoojin. I don't know how I would have managed all this on my own. And putting together the list of schools for Haneul." You bowed.

"Oh, no need to thanks." She blushed.

"Welcome to HYBE, Producer Indigo." She wished with a soft smile before leaving the studio.

In Korea before you left...

Ever since you got that message from Pdogg, asking you if you'd like to sign to Big Hit, you've been transparent and honest with Eden about it. Surprisingly, Eden was more encouraging about it.

"If you really want exposure and experience, Big Hit and HYBE is the right way to go. They're internationally known with great connections. It's a great opportunity, Indigo. I would say, don't be so quick to turn it down, consider it." He told you.

"A good thing about Big Hit is that their foundation is a little like our own. BTS started as they're self-producing idols, I'm sure you know that." He added.

"I know. 3 of their rappers do a lot of producing and lyric writing." You nodded your head.

"So I think it's good. You'll be working with the great producing team there AND the idols themselves, rather than working in a more... song-factory type environment." He chuckled.

"But-"

"You'll always be friends with Ateez and everyone in Edenary. They would want you to do this for yourself." He already knew what you were going to say.

"Thanks for the advice, Eden. I will think about it." You smiled. He nodded and patted your shoulder.

Eden's encouragement gave your courage to actually consider the offer. And after discussing it with Eden, you decided to tell CEO Kim. You didn't tell him because you wanted a raise or extra company benefits. But knowing that he did want you to stay, you wanted to let him know there were other offers.

"I won't break my contract, CEO Kim, I promise that. I'm not sure what my decision is yet but I know for sure I'll work until the end of my contract." You promised.

"That's a relief then, Indigo. Big Hit is a really good company to work in, especially for a budding producer like yourself. A lot of people would have ran to them immediately." He said.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Eden, the Edenary members and the Ateez boys." You shook your head.

"But I do appreciate you telling me." He added.

"Of course, sir. I felt that it was only right to be transparent and honest about it. But as I have told Eden when I first informed him of the offer, could you please keep this to yourself?" You requested.

"Not tell Ateez, you mean?" He chuckled. You nodded your head shyly.

"I just don't want to distract them or make them worry about it. They have a comeback and a lot of other things to think about. I wouldn't want to add to that with this." You explained yourself. CEO Kim nodded and shook hands with you.

"Alright. There's no rush. We'll see what your decision is at the end of the contract." He smiled.

So the two knew since the start about your offer. They never treated you any differently and you kind of pushed it to the back of your mind, especially after getting together with Mingi.

For a while, you did consider staying on, growing alongside Ateez. Not just because you were close friends but also you synergised well musically.

"Unnie?" Haneul stood in front of you, tilting her head in confusion when you saw you spaced out.

"Oh, sorry, baby. Did you need something?" You asked. She shook her head but came up to sit on the couch, her book in her lap.

"I'm going to start unpacking and setting up some stuff. Snacks and water are in your backpack so help yourself, alright?" You smiled softly and reached out to stroke her head. She nodded her head with an excited smile. Since she was distracted with her book, you got to unpacking your equipment.

"Unnie, can I help?" Haneul put her book to the side and got off the couch. She carefully made her way to you, avoiding the items on the floor. She peered at you curiously.

"Can you hand me the blue wire over there? Be careful." You cautioned. She nodded and went to pick up the loop of wires.

"This?" She held it up.

"Exactly. Thanks, baby." You connected your monitor to the rest of the system. With Haneul acting as your little assistant, you managed to set up everything.

"That's me!" Haneul exclaimed happily when she saw you take a photo of her out of the box and put it on the shelf.

"There's big princess." She took the photo out of you and Mingi that you used to have on your desk. When you didn't take the photo from her, Haneul 'helped' you by putting it on your desk since she couldn't reach the top shelf.

"Haneul..." You didn't know what to tell Haneul. No matter what happened, you wanted her to have a good impression of Mingi and still 'like' him.

"Do you not want big princess' photo?" She faltered a little, clutching onto the photo as if she was worried she had done something wrong.

"It's fine, baby. Thank you, you're a great helper." You smiled softly, reaching out to pat her head.

You had found a group photo at home, left on the counter. It was you and the boys at M Countdown, during your first win. You've never seen the photo before but found it when you were unpacking.

'I got the photo developed and printed for you to preserve the memory of your first M Countdown win! Congratulations, baby! To many more wins together!

9 makes 1 team

- Mings ♡'

Mingi's handwriting was on the back. Then it dawned on you that was how he found out. He probably went to your studio to find you and found it empty, which led him to your home, catching you in the midst of packing your home to leave. It was still a fresh, hurtful memory that made you choke when you thought about it.

Some of the boys were still trying to reach you through messaging apps. They stopped trying to call, probably knowing that you were overseas either from the dial tone or from Mingi.

The only one you've been in contact with was Jongho. And that's only because you didn't want to break his relationship with Haneul.

"Can I eat my snacks, unnie?" Haneul asked.

"Of course but not too much, we'll go get some lunch soon." You nodded, breaking out of your thoughts. You continued setting up your studio, arranging the smaller items like your notebooks.

"Also, if you feel tired, you can sleep." You told her, knowing she was still adjusting to the time difference.

"I'm not sleepy." She pouted.

"Alright." You chuckled. You knew very well that she would be tired later. Opening the small boxes of drinks that was ordered for you, you stocked the mini fridge. There was a small tray you put on top to put some of your favourite snacks too.

"This calls for a small break. Want to go explore the building, baby?" You asked her, going to get a wet tissue to wipe the snack crumbs from her hands. She beamed and nodded excitedly.

"Let's go wash our hands properly first. And pee." You ushered her to the bathroom. When you were done, you navigated to the cafeteria.

"Wow! There's so much food!" Haneul looked up at you.

"Yeah... So many options..." You scratched your head, feeling a little overwhelmed and unsure of where to start. Haneul wanted to see all the options before making a decision.

"If you want something, we'll stop and order that." You informed. Haneul peered over the counter at all the food.

"Cream pasta!" She pointed happily.

Since you had your mask on, you got all the food in to go boxes, intending to eat in your studio. Haneul didn't seem to mind, even offering to help you carry two of the food boxes. You couldn't really decide so you got a selection of a few items that you knew Haneul would be more than happy to try.

"Could you press the lift button for me, please?" You requested. Haneul balanced two boxes in one hand, helping you press the button for the producer floor.

"There we go." You laid out all the food on the coffee table, pulling your chair over so Haneul could take the couch.

"So, baby, we've been here for a little over a week. What do you think?" You asked.

"I like it! Even if the clocks here are backwards." She scratched her head as she took a mouthful of pasta. You laughed, she was referring to the time difference.

"Well, I'm glad you like it here. It'll take a while for us to get used to living together and being in a new home." You said.

"I like living you with you, unnie." She giggled.

This was what you've been working towards since Haneul came into your care as a baby. For the time where she would be able to live with you and you could support her. And now, you didn't have to fear the threats or look over your shoulder, worried about her safety.

"I like living with you too, Haneul. I'm glad we can finally live together like a family." You smiled softly, reaching out with a napkin to wipe the sauce off her cheek.

"But we're not a full family." She stated.

"What do you mean?" You blinked in confusion.

"Because the oppas aren't here. They're our family too but they're in Korea so we're not a full family." She shrugged, poking a chicken nuggest with her fork to eat. You froze at her statement.

"R-Right..." You stuttered and forced a smile. She didn't notice how you faltered, more interested in the food selection.

Despite setting up her calls with Jongho, you never spoke to him. It was best to keep it this way. If you spoke to him, you were afraid that you might be tempted to ask how the others were, to know how Mingi was holding up. But you knew you didn't have the right to ask since you were the reason he wasn't in a good condition.

So you "avoided" catching up with Jongho, only exchanging hi's and bye's before you handed the device to Haneul for her to speak to him.

You figured he didn't tell the others he was still in contact with Haneul. Maybe it was best to keep it that way.

Like you told Seonghwa, you would give it a while before contacting them to start up a conversation and let them know that you were okay. You needed to be away for a while.

"You know, baby, I saw some yoghurt outside at the snack bar. Shall we go get some as snacks later on?" You brought up.

"Yes! Yes!" She cheered.

"Joong oppa and I always share yoghurt. He should have a yoghurt fridge at work too so he can have all the yoghurt he wants." She thought out loud, ending with a happy giggle.

"Maybe..." You nodded slowly, picking at your food.

After the lunch food was finished, Haneul was a great helper with cleaning the table and bringing the empty food boxes out. She got some colouring out to do. While she was distracted with that, you sat down and began to do some work.

'How's America? - Eden'

'Eden! It's great to hearing from you. I've spent the last week or so unpacking and settling into the apartment. Today's my first day of work so it's also just been unpacking equipment. - Indigo'

'I'm glad you're settling in well. I met some of the Big Hit producers for dinner the other day and EL CAPITXN is excited to have song camp with you. - Eden'

'I'm really not that good... I'm gonna be a nervous wreck when it comes to my first song camp. - Indigo'

'We all know you'll do fine. - Eden'

'And now that you're in America, there is a whole different culture there with the way they work. It'll be a good chance for you to learn some things from them. - Eden'

'Agree. Thanks for keeping in touch, Eden. Even thought I told Seonghwa I wouldn't be contacting them for a while. - Indigo'

'That's understandable. You might drop everything and run back to Korea. - Eden'

'That's exactly what I told him. - Indigo'

You didn't chat with Eden for too long. You were both busy and you already had some work to do. The work you were given was from the Big Hit in Korea. You were just working and staying in America to learn from the producers here and gain some experience in working with as many people as possible.

"Hey, baby. Do you want some-" You stopped mid sentence when you turned around to see Haneul asleep. Her head bobbed as she slept, her colour pencils around her while the book stayed in her lap.

"Told you, you would be tired." You chuckled, standing up to go to where she was. You carefully cleared the pencils and colouring book.

Once you were able to lay her down, you put her rabbit and giraffe in her arms, grabbing the blanket to cover her.

"Sleep well, baby. I love you more than you know." You kissed her head, making sure she was tucked in properly. Before going back to work, you dimmed the lights.

"Okay, where were we?" You sighed and put your headphones over your ears.

~

Series Masterlist

[codename-mom]

Mom is angry

Summary: JJ wanted to follow the team on a case but Hotch didn't want her to come because she was pregnant.

Characters: BAU team

Contents: this text is part of a self-challenge on the theme "It's cute but...". So, it's supposed to be funny and/or cute with a slice of bitterswitness. Hope you'll enjoy it!

TW: this one is just supposed to be funny. :D

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

“But I know the area like the back of my hand!" whimpered JJ, stamping her heel on the tarmac.

Alone at the foot of the stairs leading to the BAU’s private jet, the liaison officer could hardly contain her anger. Facing her, blocking her access to the first step, the manager remained impassive.

“No, JJ. No field for you and you know very well why.”

The suspect that the team was about to track down was lurking where Agent Jareau's grandparents had once lived, and where they had taken her to the most unlikely corners of the county so that she wouldn't get bored with them. Problem: the sociopath who had attracted their attention was, without a doubt, preying on pregnant women... and only them! And JJ was clearly no longer in a position to hide her pregnancy.

“But...” she dared all the same, not yet knowing what argument to put forward for leaving with the rest of the gang.

“Forget it, JJ, cut in Morgan, camped at the top of the access ramp. When Mom says no, it’s no.”

“Mom?”

Hotch's icy tone encouraged Derek to flee into the belly of the plane. A feeble attempt to escape his fate, as his supervisor climbed the stairs in barely two strides before glaring at his subordinates, who had lost nothing of the exchange that had just taken place. A stony silence had fallen over the cockpit, as everyone waited for the other to make the first move. But the closely-set eyebrows of the giant in the suit were a very bad omen for the team, especially as the man who could have come to their rescue – the mentor of the man who was glaring at them – was not with them. Indeed, David Rossi was already there and waiting for them, probably sipping a coffee with his usual peaceful air.

“Okay, abdicated the one whose tongue had forked. When you're not here, you and Rossi are called Mom and Dad.”

Against all expectations, Aaron's shoulders immediately dropped, and the angle of his eyebrows changed.

“… But… why “Mom” for me? Is… is that because of the beard?”

“Oh, no, Prentiss interjected, leaving the hiding place of her seat. That's because you're clearly too sweet to be Dad and... and too creepy, too.”

A voice came from outside.

“If I say that, for me, you’re totally Dad, can I come with you?”

“No.”

“Definitely Mom,” JJ grumbled as she kicked a gravel stone.

A few minutes later, the jet took off without the mother-to-be – who had no choice but to return to Quantico – and Hotch had taken his place in one of the empty seats, the open case file in his lap. Around him, the agents concentrated on making as little noise as possible, fearing to release the fire which had miraculously extinguished itself. It had to be said that their superior was exuding such a fierce aura that it wasn't hard to guess that, behind that stoic expression, a fire was burning that was eager to devour everything in its path. However, with the journey to their destination taking several hours, Emily – who had no intention of spending them holding her breath – took the bull by the horns.

“You know, we're not questioning your masculinity at all, it's just...”

“Let's focus on the case, Hotch interrupted, without looking up from the photos spread out in front of him. And if you bring it up again, I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a month.”

Spencer, wedged between the porthole and Morgan, shriveled further in his seat. For their part, the ex-policeman and the ambassador's daughter exchanged eloquent glances, with the same smile curling at the edge of their lips.

“And don’t say: Mom is angry.”

A few days later, the investigation was concluded, and the suspect was apprehended before he could claim another victim. The whole team, including Rossi, had returned to Virginia and reinvested the sixth floor. JJ climbed the steps to the chief’s office and froze as she knocked on the door. Caressing her rounded belly, she inhaled deeply and finally dared to signal her presence. The titan, concentrating on his task, replied reflexively, without looking up from his screen:

“Come in.”

The little blonde took a step into the beast's lair, which was wearing its mask for a bad day, and murmured:

“Hotch.”

“Yes?” He reacted, finally turning his gaze on her.

As he saw her hesitate, he went from annoyance to concern in a split second.

“Something is wrong?”

“No, it’s… she smiled, searching for her words. It's just that, with the team, we realized that we hadn't given you anything for your birthday and... we bought you a little something. We… we are waiting for you in the meeting room.”

Her message transmitted at light speed, she promptly slipped out of the office. In it, the tenant of the premises observed the spot where his employee had stood the second before, looking disconcerted. His birthday? Born at the beginning of November, it had now been almost five months since the date had passed, and while he hadn't organized anything for the occasion for personal reasons, he found this late catch-up singular. Not to mention shady. Confident in his men, he saved his work and rose from his chair. He made his way to the meeting room, where everyone, including Garcia, was waiting for him. A shiny gift-wrapped box sat on the table. Frozen at the entrance to the place, a strange sensation shot through his ribcage as he realized they'd actually gone to the trouble of buying him something.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Open it,” Morgan encouraged him.

All the faces around him were smiling and impatient. A shiver ran down Hotch's spine as he wondered what they had offered him. In the spotlight, he peeled back the tape holding the gift-wrapping paper and pulled the edges apart. He then opened the cardboard box and discovered fabric folded on itself. Holding the garment at arm's length, he saw three printed words that sent a wave of anger through his veins.

“Seriously?”

“We thought you'd like it," said Reid with a shy smile.

“Because I seemed to enjoy it the first time?”

Everyone lowered their noses immediately, except Dave, who knew better than his colleagues how to decipher the discreet attitudes of the man he had recruited.

“You like that gift, don’t you?”

“No”, Aaron denied, avoiding his stare.

“You smiled”, stressed Derek, creasing his eyes.

“No,” his superior insisted, holding back a grin as best he could.

“Yes, totally,” supported Emily, fist on her hips.

She silently challenged him to counter-argue this general observation. The BAU director took the option of diverting the conversation.

“There is no way I wear that here.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s for you, declared JJ. For your days off.”

Hotch rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling when his gaze fell back on the T-shirt still in his hands and the message written on it. Of course, he'd never have asked for such a gift on his own, nor had he expected anyone to give him one, but he had to admit that in retrospect – a lot of retrospect – it was amusing.

___

I imagined that scene at the very second I heard Morgan called Hotch and Rossi: "Mom and Dad". XD

[roman-cates]

Bryce sits down in the fancy dining room. Bryce eats the fancy food. Bryce holds his own in the conversation, and Bryce doesn't seem distracted, or worried, or like he's beating himself up for bringing Roman today.

Bryce deserves a fucking Oscar.

The conversation covers a range of topics, and Bryce participates, although he keeps his mouth shut when Peter asks about punishments for pets. Mal brags for a bit, then. Apparently she's never had to draw blood, which Peter finds disappointing. Bryce just finds it hard to believe.

Somehow, Harvey segues to the difficulties of finding decent security for Rose's businesses, and Bryce jumps in, helping steer the conversation away from captives and 'pets'.

Dinner seems to take forever, but it's actually not long before Mr. Rose invites everyone back to the study for after dinner drinks. Mal puts a hand on Bryce, keeping him at the table as everyone else files out.

"Well? Can your pet go out?" It's almost a challenge.

Bryce rolls his eyes. "I'll take a look at him and decide."

Mal laughs a little. "Let me know if he can't."

Bryce doesn't let her see any change in his attitude. "I will."

She gives him directions to the kitchen, and Bryce finds it easily. There's a small table in the corner that Roman has pulled his chair up to. James is seated next to him. Bryce clears his throat.

He wants James gone.

He can't say that. He glares at him instead.

James flinches.

"Leave," Bryce growls at him, and while he seems reluctant to, he does go. Roman doesn't look as bad as Bryce was afraid he would.

Bryce sits down in the seat he vacated, taking Roman's right hand in his own. He leans in. There's probably no listening devices here, but…

"Are you up for going out?"

In the kitchen, the food is better than what Roman expected. It's not great by any means, but he realizes he was expecting something akin to what Avery made him eat while he was in the basement. This is not that. It's just normal food. Simple and bland, but still a conventional meal.

The pair of them eat in awkward silence for a while. Or... it feels awkward to Roman. When he glances at James— who seems, to Roman's relief, still uninjured— the other man doesn't seem to carry any of the awkward energy Roman feels.

Once james finishes his food, he speaks up, startling Roman a little. "Master wants us to go on an errand after dinner. I hope your master will let you go," James says and Roman is surprised to catch a little smile on the man's lips.

"... Do... you really want me to go with you?" I thought you hated me...

"Yeah. I think it would be... fun?"

Fun? Does James really want to spend more time with him? Or was he just told by Mal to act like he wants Roman to go? Roman considers this silently for a moment before responding. "I think he'll let me go. I'm not sure, but... probably."

Even if James is just pretending, Roman would like to spend more time with him.

A few minutes later, Bryce comes into the kitchen, making Roman jump a little at his sudden appearance. He looks over at James again only to see the man flinch away from Bryce. "Leave," Bryce growls.

With visible reluctance, James gets up and leaves the kitchen. Bryce sits down and takes Roman's hand. "Are you up for going out?" he asks quietly as he leans in.

Roman gives a small nod. "I... yeah, I think so. He... seems to really want me to go with him, too."

[pb-dot]

Hi Peebs!

Happy World Building Wednesday!

What weirdly specific knowledge can you add to your stories based on your personal experience e.g through work, hobbies etc?

Happy WBW to you too!

I had to take some time to think about this one because I very seldom sit down to think about world-building specifically, it tends to emerge as I write. This isn't to say there's no inspiration from my personal life, it's just harder to track. I could talk about the political conviction behind how I've chosen to build my world, but that might turn out a touch long so I'll save that for a later date. After pondering it a bit, though, I have come up with two bits that I can find direct reference to in my own life.

The first one is the state of the world, at least the parts our protagonists are privy to. Put plainly, they are living in a city suffering from burnout. A series of expensive wars crippled the city state's government to the point where one could easily argue it has none. Life goes on, as it does, but it does so like in a daze. People still go to work because the people who charge them rent are still around, and their bosses as well, and they generally don't steal from or assault people, at least if the people in question can afford private security. It's an untenable situation, bad for everyone but the very richest, but everyone who works for a living is too tired to do anything about it.

Now this is pretty disheartening stuff, and that's not without reason, as I'm pretty sure this is me processing my thoughts about my own burnout and depression. The alienation that comes from working too much and being too tired for self-realization in my spare time probably isn't unique to me, so I hope I can, at least, reach a bit of an audience with this.

The second one is a considerably lighter note. Throughout the book, secondary protagonist 13 reads and refers to a series of paperback novels about a dashing gentleman detective who also fights crime as a masked vigilante in the city before the collapse. Although this is also a bit of a Matt Murdock/Batman sendup, the prime source of inspiration is actually the Dresden Files series of books about private eye/actually magical wizard Harry Dresden.

The dual roles and how I imagine the covers to look are direct references, but it's more about what roles these books serve in the narrative that comes from my own life. I consider the Dresden books pulpy to the degree that borders on the ridiculous, but I have found much joy in reading them during challenging times of my life. There is a very earnest "get knocked down ten times, get up 11"-charm to the whole affair that has helped me if only a little. It's this kind of finding solace where you can that lets 13 keep to his ideals even in the face of danger and even helps him come up with his new name after he gets tired of being a number to boot.

So those are my examples. I feel like they may be closer to things about the characters than the world, but that may be inevitable just based on how I write.

[ptrckjcne]

👻👓💡💌

ask box -> fanfic writer asks

👓 -> what helps you focus when you write? i have a few things that helps me focus! i usually write best in the mornings, after my morning swim/run, because that's when my head is at its clearest. however when i sit down and write, i can like, write fine on my own, but if i'm really inspired and want to write something, i'll crack my knuckles and put on the soundtrack to star wars (i don't know what happens, or why it happens, but that soundtrack's got something on me writing wise)

💡 -> how many wips do you currently have? right now, i've got seven wips; four multi-chapters and three one shots.

💌 -> is there a favourite trope you like to write? i mean, sharing a bed/one bed only. those two could hit me with a truck, and i'd say thanks. and then there's fake dating, absolutely love that. and there's probably more, but these kinda, stick out.

👻 -> what's your wildest headcanon? yikes, wildest? huh. i don't know if they can classify as wild, but i've got a couple i can share, so uhm, enjoy?

-> steve and danny help each other out, as friends or boyfriends, i don't know, that's up to them to figure out i guess. but, it's not uncommon for them to stumble into a bathroom stall, or yknow, whatever "private" space they find and just help each other relieve some tension like the good bros they are. thing is, it kinda gets outta hand, and they get stopped for public indecency not once, not twice, but three times. and it's not like you wanna get a rookie from the hpd looking into the car where you've got your best bro's dick in your hand, but shit and steve threatens to turn this kid in if he mentions their names, flashes him their badges, and adds that if there's anything in the report that can identify them, his career's over.

and it's not because steve's an douchebag, but he's got this big, tough-guy navy seal image to protect, and he's not about to give rachel fodder if she decides to drag danny to court over the kids (because imagine the field day they'd have if it turned up in a police report that "lieutenant commander steven j. mcgarrett and detective sergeant daniel d. williams have been fined for public indecency")

sometime after the third time they've been pulled over, duke corners steve when he's at the precinct, and he asks if steve knows about these very anonymous reports, and steve's like ??? me no i don't know anything, and duke just sighs, like a disappointed dad, and goes "there are no names, or any kind of way i can identify the people, but when i've asked the three reporting officers they say the people flashed sparkly badges, and that was what they could tell me – so can you and detective williams please keep it in your pants while in your cars?" (is this a headcanon or could this very well be a "they started off as good bros getting each other off now they're fucking and oh shit they're dating aren't they" kind of fic)

-> this one actually goes a little bit along to the possible grace-plot of your au to the au, but it's been brewing now for a while. anywho, danny and rachel really wanted kids, but sometimes two people just really struggle conceiving. moving further, there's actually two options to this headcanon:

danny and rachel have a talk, and decide they want to get checked out, and they find out the reason for their struggles, and sit down and have a talk; it's perfectly fine for rachel to get pregnant and carry a child, though it might not be possible for her to get pregnant with danny. so, they start looking at sperm donors.

enter steven, who was in town with his navy bros, who went "ooh i bet you're too much of a wimp to donate your sperm" and who is steve to back down from a challenge? so he donates his sperm, completely oblivious to the fact that his sperm is what creates danny's kid. danny doesn't actually know anything personal about steve from the file, other than the basic description, but sometime later, like way later, in hawaii later, they do a dna test just for fun and it turns out a perfect match between steve and grace and they're like oh

or rachel goes off one night after having argued with danny, possibly about his work? idk. anyway, she goes off to this bar, a shitty bar really, gets blackout drunk, gets one off quick and dirty in the bathroom of bar with another blackout drunk bar-guest (this stupidly hunk navy seal guy), gets pregnant and panicks, and just tells danny it's his. when the kid pops out and has brown eyes and brown hair, they just shrug it off with it being rachel's genetics taking the override on this one.

[panzerkatzee]

NaNoWriMo Journal Day VIII

Good morning folks!

I just slid past creative burn out, struggling like hell to write yesterday… still managed enough words… yet, I was feeling aweful.. Sooo I did what I learned in therapy.. and had some social interaction, via the phone, while going on a very nice long walk and doing some grocery shopping.

I should probably also clean my room, but I'll get to that aaafter writing for the day~

First up.. my plan for the day… is write. Nothing fancy.. If I get stuck, I will do some fancy sorting stuff on Obsidian, in hopse to make editing easier on me later, by putting all chapters into single files and splitting them up in scenes already. Obsidian has the neat function to fold up all the text beneath a headline, so that will break it down into even more manageable pieces. Last time, the sheer volume of what I had written and what had to be edited, overwhelmed me completely.. soo lets hope this new method works.

Ahh also a nice side effect of going on the walk, is that I woke up suuuper early today and I hope, I can turn this into my new wake up time, despite liking the night, it gives me more time to enjoy the light, which is quite the challenge for me in fall anyway…

Sooo.. Song of the Day: Serj Tankian - Borders are

Why is it on my Playlist? "Fear is the cause of separation"

Serj Tankian, ex-singer (or again singer) of the Armenian/American Metalband System of a Down, uses his voice as a solo-artist, to make political statements, questioning war, the enviromental crisis, capitalism and… nationalism.

The last, comes to bear in the song I talk about today, which beside one other, is on this playlist. It's about the artificial seperation of the world. And its complimented, by a very simple yet poetic video, showing a map of the world, every country painted a different shade, seperated by black lines, signfying borders between countries. Over the course of the song, the black lines fly up towards the viewer and disappear. I love this, because the different hues remain. Which I choose to interpret as an abolishing of the actual borders, while keeping our cultural heritage. Embracing unification without sacrificing what makes a culture or nation unique.

This… is not possible, as long as people are afraid. I came to this conclusion in parts thanks to Tankians song.. and in parts through learning about different cultures, their history. Immersing myself into it, helped me to concieve how a culture or a nation has become the way it is today. And this freed me of a lot of fear and made me realise… we are all humans. Which.. sounds like a no-brainer at first… but its something, I struggled with a lot and didn't really recognise until the fear was gone.

For example: When I moved to a bigger city with a high count of people who belong to the diaspora of muslim countries, my dad told me: "Be careful, daughter, don't smart mouth them, the men will have no qualms punching you in the face or stab you and leave you for dead." Only after actually talking to people from the cultures, getting to know them, I realised it to be utter bullshit. And I also realised, my Dad didn't say this, because he wants to be a racist… or is a bad person. No he was afraid.. Because all you hear in media is how a "Muslim immigrant stabbed his sister because she was in a relationship to a German man" or "Stabbing in XYZ might me a terrorist attack" "Immigrants take your doctors appointments" Sooo much the readily accessible information for the average German in form of news and media, usually only talks about the shitty stuff… because DUH… only the negative stuff actually sells.

Soo yeah.. It still might seem like fiction at this point… but that's why I write. I hope the people, who will read my books in the future, might agree with me on that, try to learn from it and maybe attempt to challenge their own fears about other cultures. Which is what this song is about… and also it wildly anti capitalist… but thats something for another day.

In the end, go check out Serj Tankian, he's amazing and deserves more ppl, listening to and understanding his music!

As this venture into music/politics/philosophy, was quite the long write - I excluded like at least a thousand words and saved them for later-, I will skip the daily challenge today and get into writing.

Okay… I started to procastinate at 10:20.. it's 11:00 now… lets eat something and stop procastination~

Sooo a little over two hours later, I am done for the day.. energy waning already… well it has a few reasons, one being my mother wanting to meet up in an hour or so, which means, I have a minor deadline, that tells me, I have to stop soon.

Also.. I am not really feeling it right now… therefore, I am going to do some selfcare and then get started on the whole ordering of chapters thing :D And after meeting my mum... its room cleaning time... like the saying goes... tidy home tidy mind.. or what ever :D

Never cared for these pithy wisdoms.. but I came to realise, cleaning up, whilst a hated task, is actually beneficial for my well-being, despite all within me recoiling at the prospect of having to clean anything..

I end the writing day for now at 1545 words… which is still above the word goal, which by now has dropped to under 1000 per day. Whoop!

[mrchocostix]

Bye.

[chucktaylorupset]

I'm late but do u have any other unhinged (or hinged, I'm desperate) essay writing methods you've heard of? Please and thank you

Based on the word desperate I am going to act while assuming the worst.  So if there is indeed a deadline stalking you like a predator animal through the bush while you are an innocent three legged and zero word count gazelle, you will be as quickly and well armed as you can to meet the challenge. 

This is the quick version, the meandering funny version can come later, either I'll reblog this or put it in a new post.

Here is what you do.  Get a speech to text app or failing that a voice memo.  You can default to whatever is preinstalled in your phone, especially if you have very little time. 

Start a new file.  Say words in order into the microphone about what you plan to write about.  Summarize your general intro and thesis, explain your body paragraphs, bullshit like you have a conclusion.  If you do not have body paragraphs and this is a research essay, summarize each of your sources in turn.  Then try to say how at least two relate to each other, but ideally you do this for as many sub groupings as possible.  When you are done, make sure to save.

If you have a voice memo, you will need to play back and transcribe this.  When you're done, you should have a bunch of raw words. 

Ideally you do as many steps as you have time for, but if it's real bad and you are out of time, you can turn this in right now.  You should probably follow this up as soon as possible with an email to the teacher/professor.  This can be scary, so I will give you a form.

Dear [PROF NAME. REMEMBER TO CHANGE THIS TO THE ACTUAL NAME]. 

I hope this message finds you well.  Regrettably, I do not have a final draft for [ASSIGNMENT REMEMBER TO CHANGE THIS PART TOO].  I'm sorry this is last minute and I know your late policy is [YOU KNOW THE DRILL] but I was wondering if there was anyway to get an extension.  I know that this is not my best effort, and if at all possible I want to do better.

Thank you for your time,

[YOUR NAME].

If looking up the late policy stresses you out, delete that section of the sentence.  Make sure the email has sent.

You then should get yourself a glass of your preferred beverage and maybe a snack and then go to sleep or nap, depending on your deadline time.  School is stressful.  Writing deadlines are stressful.  You are expending a lot of energy working very hard and being very brave and this should be rewarded.

These next steps can be taken immediately, if you have enough time, or after an answer on the potential extension, if you did not.

It is editing time.  Take those bunch of raw word vomit and pretty it up a bit. If speech to text then you need to fix all the words that the program transcribed wrong.  Sometimes there's the rare app that will leave you with both the audio and the transcript and you can reference the former to fix the latter.  Make sure to check for homophones, machines are still learning the difference between "write" and "right."  In the machines defense, writing is very difficult.

Put in evidence and quotations that are much harder to verbalize on the fly.  Maybe in your summarization you have already marked where this evidence should go.  Reword sentences to make them appropriate to written format instead of voice. Feel free to expand your ideas.

You now have a bunch of words that you can turn in.  Congratulations!  Do that, check to make sure you have a receipt of your submittal as I have fucked myself that way many a time.  Revisit the step of hydrate/refuel/hibernate.  Rejoice.

Remind yourself that you have done some very hard important work.  Hopefully this method has made that easier.  If it has not, I hope it at least has not made it worse, especially if you are already stumped.  From reading your ask, I'm not certain that's the situation at all but I'm playing it safe.

Do not feel bad if this method did not work.  I myself benefit from it by being a very particular person.

Mileage varies.  This method gave me a 1,200 rough draft after speaking into a microphone for eight minutes and forty-one seconds.  Which made me very, very angry, particularly at my mother, but that is a story for another day.

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

a/n: this is my submission for @antoineroussel 's summer fic exchange 2k21! thank you for organizing this all demi. i recieved @timstuetzle and i am so excited to finally share this! im sorry it's so late but i had a lot of fun writing for Tim and i hope i did him justice! i made this a gender neutral reader again, so please enjoy my take on some friends to enemies to lovers :)

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

warnings: some angst, set in no covid-universe, a few swears, an odd timeline

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! the banner is made by me, with photos found from pinterest and the transparent made by @art-and-the-hockeys (thank you!!!)

The start of the season was your favourite. The chill of the rink, the sound of skate edges on the ice, the smell of skate sharpening- it was all so familiar. As an analyst, the start was the best. There were new lineups, new plays, and a chance to try new things. Considering this was your first year as a real analyst, not just checking over others' work, you were excited. You got to actually help to build a Stanley Cup winning team.

What you didn’t love was how everyone seemed to lose their heads and decide to run around the arena. You’d been looking for the coach of the Ottawa Senators for the past twenty minutes. You’d think the man would be in his office the first day back, but no. He decides to take a stroll to who-knows-where and leaves you to follow invisible breadcrumbs.

Eventually, you found yourself on one of the lower levels. You continued down the hallway, entering an open space with concrete floors. The bustle of the new season was in full swing as you swerved between various people working like gears in a machine. You tried to do your best to stay out of other people’s way but you still ended up walking into a hard surface.

“Oof!” Shit. Hard surfaces don’t usually talk. You looked up at what you ran into and saw two men staring at you. Both were wearing Senators hoodies but one was a taller blond and the other a slightly shorter brunet. The brunet has a backwards snapback on but that wasn't what made you stop in your tracks. It was his eyes. They were soft and welcoming, something like a home cooked meal, but they had a glint of adventure in them.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I am so sorry.” You apologized to the blond you ran into.

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

“Number 7.” You turned toward the brunet. “And...number 18, right?” When they both gave you a weird look, you shrugged. “I’m an analyst here so, uh, you’re just numbers to me.”

“Okay, ouch but you are the reason we’re going to be winning more games this season, so I'll give it to you. I’m Brady, and this is Jimmy.” The blond gestured to himself first, before gesturing beside him.

“It’s Tim, actually.”

You introduced yourself to the two players, before looking around the hallways. “Um, would either of you happen to know where the coach is? I can’t find him,” You held up the file folders in your hands. “I’ve got new numbers for him.”

“Oh yeah he’s probably close to the ice, we’ll show you.” Brady started down a hallway, both you and Tim falling in stride behind him. “So Numbers-”

“-Y/n-” You glared at Brady for the nickname, rolling your eyes as he continued on. From your peripheral vision, you saw the corners of Tim's mouth turn up.

“-If you don’t mind me saying….either you look really good for your age, or you aren’t old enough to be working here,” He continued, giving a glance your way.

You looked down at your shoes and gave a sigh. “I get that a lot, and I am young-er than my colleagues but I assure you, I am qualified to work for this organization.”

“Wasn’t doubting that, just seeing how much I get to tease ya. Jimmy’s the rookie,” He elbowed him and Tim tried to swerve around it, only to bump into a stack of pylons. Brady and you shared a grin at his expense. “So he gets all the teasing. Same for the numbers people. You’re the rookie.” He shrugged

“Well, I’m not actually a rookie anymore. This is my second year here,” You mentioned, looking towards the two guys. Brady looked impressed whereas Tim’s eyes went large and his jaw slack a little.

“How?” He asked, and you laughed. The three of you turned a corner, and you walked slightly faster to talk.

“I graduated high school pretty early. And then took my statistics undergrad at the University of Ottawa. I minored in sports studies and I met your GM at a conference for the department. When he found out I was in Ottawa alone, he kinda took me under his wing, checked in every now and again. When I graduated two years ago, he offered me an analyst position and I was lucky enough to land it. I love working here, even if I’m way younger than everyone else. Last year, I stayed in my office a lot, double checking people’s work but this year, they gave me more responsibility. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You are going to be great.” Tim said, meeting your eyes, his gaze showing that his comment was genuine. You ducked away from his gaze but muttered a ‘thanks’. The three of you rounded another corner, Brady ducking out to talk to a reporter, but Tim said he’d help you find the coach.

You settled into a comfortable silence as you walked beside each other through the chilled hallways. He abruptly took a left turn, cutting you off and causing you to bump into him. You immediately apologized, this being the second time today you’d run into a hockey player.

“‘S my fault, I’m still getting used to the new arena,” He said, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He nodded his head down the hallway, as a silent ‘after you’ and you started walking. As you got further down, you realized Tim walked you out to the bench. The light became brighter, the air a little crisper, and the floor turned from a concrete grey to a bright red. Your eyes wandered up, admiring the view from down here. You’d be truthful earlier, you’d only ever visited your office. But from down here, you could see everything- the thousands of seats, the banners hanging from the ceiling, the crystal white ice. You stood close to the wall, as if to try to intimidate a fly on a wall, seeing everything as if you weren’t there. You could feel Tim could up from behind you, letting you take it all in for the first time.

“That’s Coach,” He leaned closer to you as he pointed across the ice towards someone in a tracksuit. You nodded and although Tim dropped his hand, he stayed close to you. The coach eventually noticed the two of you and started to skate over to the bench. Tim cleared his throat and you looked at him.

“I got to- I have to go now, but, um, I’ll see you around?” You nodded to his question, a soft smile on your lips. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he knew he had to leave but he kept getting pulled towards you. “Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck with yours too.” At that he turned away from you, and you turned to the coach, pulling out your file folder to talk with him.

***

A week or two later and the start of the season was upon the Canadian Tire Centre. The home opener was in a few days and your week had been hectic, trying to get notes from practices and implement what you saw into your analysis. After a morning full of spreadsheets, you decided to take your lunch break in your sanctuary. Last year, the arena felt too big to stick around in on your lunch break. So you had headed outside, where you discovered a small hiking trail about a ten minute drive from work. It quickly became a place where you went whenever you needed to clear your head. And after the morning you had, it was the perfect place to go, so you hopped in your car and started towards it.

At the top of the hill, you put the car in park, grabbed your lunch bag and started towards your spot. It was past the picnic tables that had a nice view of the suburbs, but it wasn't secluded. Your spot was off the beaten path, but there was a small ledge with a perfect view of the arena, highway, and surrounding green spaces. You turn the corner, ducking under a tree branch, ready to exhale the heck of the morning you had.

But there was already someone sitting in your spot. Their head was down, but you recognized the logo and number 18 on their hoodie. Cautiously, you approached him.

“18...Is it okay if I sit here?” You asked, and his head shot up. He shot you a small smile and quick nod. You sat down, placing your bag in front of you, taking out a granola bar.

“You can call me Tim, you know. That is my name,” You gave him a shy smile and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his comment.

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place, Tim,” You mentioned quietly. It felt weird, to be honest, to be sharing your spot with someone, but it didn’t feel like he was intruding.

“My city in Germany has a lot of parks. There’s a forest near my house where I’d go when I needed a break. This is the closest I could find near the rink. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t go telling the whole team about our place,” you winked at him and took a bite of your snack.

“I can keep a secret, don’t worry.” He laughed lightly and sent you a smile.

“I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“You’re the analyst, you graduated super early right? Y/n, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You smiled at him. “So, how are you liking Ottawa?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen very much of it. The ice is very good. My house is nice.” He shrugged and you gaped at him.

“That’s all you’ve seen? So you haven’t been to Parliament Hill or ByWard market or…?” you trailed off when you saw him biting his bottom lip and slowly shaking his head. “Well, you are missing out, you should go see the city sometime.”

“Do you think you could show me around? You seem to know all the best places,” He offered. You met his eyes and nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket, passing it over to you. You raised your eyebrows at the gesture but he just pushed his phone closer to you. Silently, you imputed your number, placing a small graph emoji beside your contact name. You handed it back to him and a small smirk graced his face when he saw the emoji, before he pursed his lips at the device. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s all good. Thank you. It’s- I have to go back now, but I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded as he handed back your phone. He walked towards the parking lot, but turned around to wave at you before he disappeared around the bend.

Later that day as you sat in the stands, a clipboard and pen in your hands, you got a text from an unknown number.

Hi

It's 18 :)

You chuckled at his use of his number and texted him back.

i thought you said i could call you tim? :(

also it’s practice?? how are you on your phone?

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

Guess I'll see you in the stands then :)

Oh and I'm free this weekend for that showing of the city, team bonding’s on friday

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

now get out on the ice or you’re going to be late :)

***

You had checked your schedule, and agreed to meet that Saturday. You said you’d pick him up since you knew more of the city. You didn't want to be late so you arrived five minutes early in front of Tim's place. He walked out in his signature backwards snapback, some curls poking out the front, and a monochromatic beige outfit. Waving animatedly at you, he jogged to the car, his ever present smile on his face.

The twenty minutes ride into the city was quiet yet comfortable. A few words were exchanged about how each other’s day was so far but nothing groundbreaking. The low hum of the engine filled the silence as you drove into the city.

After parking in a Superstore (‘Free parking in downtown Ottawa is hard to come by, Tim. We’re parking in the grocery store parking lot’) and walking a few blocks, you come to the far end of the market. Lined with local businesses and brick streets, it felt homey. Tim smiled as it reminded him of back home.

“So, what are we going to see first? Your school?” He asked as the two of you walked along the streets. You laughed and shook your head.

“Pfft no. It isn’t all that interesting. I figured we’d see some of my favourite places, if that’s okay?” He assured you it was and the two of you continued through the streets, Tim with his head down as you passed people. He wasn't famous just yet, but in Canada you find hockey fans at every corner. Soon, you arrived in a small plaza with coloured picnic tables and muskoka chairs.

“Ta-da!” You gestured to the large block letters that spelled ‘Ottawa’ in the middle of the space. “It’s not much, but you’ve got to be a tourist in your own city at least once right?” He laughed along with you and you got out your phone, ready to take a picture of him so he could send it to his parents. You thought he would want a picture of him but he was quick to insist you had to be in the picture as well.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked one of the girls who were taking turns with the Ottawa sign.

“Oh sure!” You stood beside him, between the two ‘T’s in Ottawa, his arm slung over your shoulders. You smiled and looked up at Tim to see him smiling as well- and not one of those classic boy coy half smiles, a genuine one. She took a few landscape and a few portrait ones before handing your phone back. “You two are such a cute couple!”

Before you could correct the girl, Tim answered for you. “We’re just friends actually.” She apologized profusely before rejoining her group. You shuffled your feet as an awkward silence overcame you for the first time since you’d met. Your body shivered and you promptly changed the subject.

“Hey, you hungry?” He shrugged and nodded. You nodded and led him away from the sign, through a few back alleys lined with a few merchants, home artists and such. You entered a building, bustling with people. It was long and narrow, with brick flooring and merchants on either side of the middle. There were lots of people, ranging from people doing their weekly grocery shopping to tourists looking for souvenirs. You weaved between strollers and friend groups, Tim grabbing your hand to avoid getting lost. He kept his head low, hoping it would disguise him enough. This day was about you and him, not you, him and the hockey world. Eventually, the two of you exited the indoor market and came to a small opening. Instead of staying in the opening, you turned left, tugging Tim across the street to two small shacks, one red and one blue. The red one had a classic fairytale vibe to it, with beige wainscotting, red painted window frames, and topped with a white and light brown canopy over the window. Underneath the canopy, there was a string of small Canadian flags.

“Do you trust me?” He arched one of his eyebrows but nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Confused, Tim stood there as you walked up the window, spending no time looking at the menu as you ordered. He looked above the shack to see in fancy lettering the word BeaverTails. When you came back, you were holding two paper containers and had a smile on your face. He looked at the sign and then back to the bags in your hands.

“A beaver’s… tail?” You laughed at him and handed him his BeaverTail.

“It’s not actually a beaver’s tail. It’s just a fried pastry that looks like one. They come in lots of flavours but I got you the best one, cinnamon sugar.” You could tell he was hesitant but bit into his and you took a bite of your own.

Almost instantly, he groaned. “Do you take every guy here? Wow. Oh my god,” He got cinnamon smeared over his chin and you laughed as he tried to wipe it off while holding his pastry.

“Hilarious Tim, but I’ll have you know you’re like my only friend here. So… no I don’t take anyone here.” He scoffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You’re joking. How do you not have other friends? You’re great,”

“I started university as a 16 year math major. It’s not a surprise people didn’t want to talk to me. But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

“Don’t you have people from home come and visit?”

You scoffed. “I don’t really get along with my mum. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I always sorta resented her for not seeing how it affected me. And then, when I got accepted to school out here, she sold the house and started travelling. Last I talked to her, she was in Tahiti.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What about your dad? Or brothers or sisters?” You swallowed your piece of BeaverTail before answering him.

“I have an older sister, Dani. But she’s eight years older than me, so we're not the closest. She checks in every week or so because she knows my mum doesn't. She’s never come out to visit though, she runs her own business back in Seattle.”

“It must be nice to have someone though. Especially when you were growing up. What about your dad?”

“I don’t- I don’t talk about my dad.” You picked at the pastry before changing the topic. “C’mon, you have to see this place.” You gestured to a side street and the two of you made your way towards your favourite destination. You exited beside a taller building and you pressed the button to allow the two of you to cross the street. As you were waiting for the light to turn, you turned to Tim.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any siblings then?”

“No, but the guys at the rink were like my brothers so it wasn’t bad.” The light turned red, and the ‘walk’ light turned on. You made your way across, staying close to each other as people walked both ways.

“Hockey tends to do that,”

“Is that why you picked to work in hockey?”

You glared at him as you made it across the street. “That’s personal.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends share personal stuff.”

“That’s… it’s just different.” You shook your head and lowered the volume of your voice. “Besides, we’re here.” The two of you had stopped in front of some shallow steps that led to a tall archway, with black statues underneath and on top of the arch. It had some engravings on it, both small and large letters. From where they were standing, Tim could make out some numbers, but not well enough to understand the significance. Behind the monument and slightly to the right was the green tipped roof and gothic architecture of the Parliament building.

“What is this place?” He tilted his head as he looked at the arch in the middle of the square. To him, it wasn’t anything special, perhaps another statue of one of the colonizers of the country.

“It’s Canada’s war memorial.” You whispered, and he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his body and lowering his head. “When I was going to school, I’d come here at least once a week.”

His head stayed where it was but he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Why?”

“I know it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite place...because I know so many people died for the country, but for me, it’s a place of silence. Of reflection. It reminds me to be grateful for everything I have. Some days school would be really bad, so this place was perfect to sit and remember that life isn’t bad at all. Not when I was in a safe country, not when I had an education, not when I had a warm house to go back to.”

He nodded. “That seems...perfect. Some days are too loud, there’s too many people saying stuff. I get that.” His voice was quiet as well, as he lifted his head to focus on the stonework and engravings. The two of you stood in silence in front of the memorial for a few minutes more before you tugged on his arm.

“See that building?” You leaned in close to him, your finger extending to point at a building in the distance, a little taller than the ones around it. “That’s the university’s mathematics and physics department. I had most of my classes in that building.” He nodded, leaning in closer to you, your heads almost touching. You lowered your hand and nodded with your head towards the way you came.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet. You’ve got to see the Parliament building.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed left towards it. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him right. “I’m the tour guide, remember? Trust me, there’s a better view.” You dropped his hand as he started to walk in time with you but you had to shove it in your pocket to replace the heat his hands gave you.

A quick ten minutes walk later and you stood atop a hill overlooking the river. It was a large park with benches and an eccentric art installation in the corner. You walked close to the peak of the hill and stopped, breathing in the fresh air.

“There is Canada’s capital building. It’s nicer to see it from here than from the front where there’s a bunch of tourists. Besides, from here, you get to see more of the architecture.” The building was across the river, its massiveness more pronounced from your viewpoint. There was a dome nearest the river that was covered in flying buttresses, each support beam having intricate details that stood out. The clock tower and green tinted roof completed the gothic look.

“This view is better. Quieter. It reminds me more of home,” You bump your shoulder against his lightly.

“Glad you like it.” The two of you stood in silence until Tim shivered, at which case you decided you should start heading back. If the hockey player was cold, it was cold enough for you too.

The walk and drive back was uneventful, aside from the two of you passing jokes back and forth. When it came to drop him off, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t make an effort to leave the vehicle.

“How much for our snack? I’ll pay you back,”

You waved him off. “It was my treat, don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips, then shook it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, your phone dinged. You glared at him as you opened the text to see an e-transfer. Before you could protest, he cut you off.

“You never said I couldn’t pay for your gas," He laughed, and despite your annoyance at the loophole, you found yourself laughing along with him. He had that effect on you; he seemed to be able to ease any tension you held. “I had a good time today. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at the rink?” He nodded before getting out of your car, waving like he did that morning as you drove off to your place. When you arrived home, you saw a new text from him.

Can you send those pictures you took today?

You tried to suppress a smile, sending them over to which he responded with a ‘Thank youuuu’. You set your phone on your nightstand and turned off the light. Despite your efforts, you fell asleep with a smile on your face from a perfect day with a great person.

***

“Hey, Numbers!” You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Brady sticking his head out of the dressing room. He had taken a liking to calling you that, especially as you had started hanging around the house more. It was nice, movie nights and sometimes you’d take a pre-game nap with Tim, you had even stayed for lunch at Tim’s request. At this point, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Brady to shout the nickname from anywhere. Practice had ended and you had given your notes to the coach about what to focus on for the Toronto game. “You didn’t happen to see Jimmy, did you?” When you shook your head, his face scrunched into a small frown.

“Where’d he go? Didn’t media like just end?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t even bother to change from media, he just stalked out. He didn’t say anything to any of the guys, so I thought you might’ve seen him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout for him,” You told Brady before he returned to finish dressing and you returned to your office. But even after you’d settled back into your work, there was a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place. Sending a quick text off to Tim, asking where he was, you dove back into work. But it only took five minutes before you were checking your phone, seeing if he’d read the text or responded. When neither happened, you gave him a call. It sent you straight to voicemail and you hung up before you could leave a message. The feeling in your stomach grew and you packed up your bag, knowing no more work would get done tonight. It wasn’t like Tim to sulk or get in his head; he was a generally happy guy. Something must have set him off for him to be acting this way -- even with you. And if it was something this big, there was only one spot he would’ve gone.

“Brady said you stalked out of media. Figured I’d find you here.” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his shoulders dropping a little. He shrugged, which you took as your cue to take a seat beside him at your lookout space. The sun was setting, the golden hour light reflecting on his stress lines, and the sky was littered with wispy clouds.

Your hands were in the pockets of your hoodie, your legs tucked together. Despite being here for close to six years, the Canadian chill always surprised you. You sat with your shoulder pressed to his, a silent symbol of you being there for him. With his head down, he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear, so you leaned your head down to hear him better. At your movement, he huffed and lifted his head.

“I’m supposed… They wanted me to come and make a difference and to help win games. But I’m not helping! I’m supposed to be putting up points and helping win games, but we’re still losing! Like, why do I suck?”

Your chest got tight at his words. “Tim…”

“You can’t deny it, the numbers say we’re losing.”

“Losing doesn’t mean you aren’t producing. This is your first year in the NHL, you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t just your job to win the game.”

“But they wouldn’t have gotten me right out of the World Juniors if they didn’t need me to start making an impact right away! They were counting on me. And I’m not living up to it….”

“You are nineteen years old. Nineteen. The five other rookies ahead of you in points are all at least two years older than you. Let that sink in. You have so many years ahead of you. And secondly, no one here is expecting you to turn this team around. McDavid’s first year he didn’t turn the team around. And sure, yeah, the next year, the Oilers had more success but guess what? They missed the playoffs the next three years. Hockey is a team sport, one person, not even McDavid, can completely turn a team around. No one is expecting you to turn this team around in one season. This isn’t on you.”

“But the numbers…”

“Are you going to trust the analyst on the numbers or the assholes on Twitter?” He glared at you but let you continue on. “If you really want to talk numbers, we aren’t last in the league anymore. We’ve beat the top team in the division a couple times now. You’re putting up points, you’re helping us win. Cut yourself some slack. You’re nineteen and living in a new country. This team isn’t expecting you to be Ottawa’s saviour, okay?”

“There’s pressure to be better though! Everywhere I go, I just see how I should be doing more, how if I don’t produce more, I’m going to be a draft bust. I’m the young guy, I’m supposed to be the new blood and be able to make a difference. I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” His words lingered in the sunset glow, a contrast to the darkness he was feeling. You fell silent at his outburst, the air feeling too quiet, even with his heavy breathing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You ignored his apology, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you. “I graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I didn’t have enough job experience but my grades were one of the only reasons I was able to get hired so young. My first year, all I did was double check other people’s stats and predictions, and it was okay. No one expected much out of me because I was young and they didn’t really give me any responsibilities. But this year… they’re looking to me more. Teams with more than two analysts are more likely to produce teams that make the playoffs. I’m number three; I should be helping make a better team. But I’m not. I’m not getting the numbers we need or the stats we need. I know more updated methods and technologies but...it’s just not working. I’m not finding solutions to problems that this team has had for years. And the board and my colleagues see that. I know I shouldn’t worry about them firing me, but I still do. I mean, I’m not producing, why would they keep me around? This wasn’t what they wanted when they gave me the job.”

“They won’t fire you, you’re doing your best. And you’re young, you graduated early. They have to give you a chance to prove yourself in the workplace before they fire you.”

“You wanna take your own advice?” He flushed at your words, but you smiled. “Thanks, though.” He nodded and looked out over the suburbs surrounding the arena.

“The pressure in this league sucks.” He said and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It does. But we’ll get through it right?”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.” He placed his hand on your thigh and the two of you looked out at the sunset, his touch lingering on your body until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Silently, he helped you to your feet, and walked you to your car, making sure you got in okay, before he got into his car. On the drive home, your chest felt lighter from the conversation.

***

The final buzzer rang, signalling a 4-2 win for the Senators. You smiled at the scoreboard and gathered your papers. The game was nothing spectacular, but for you, it was a career defining game. Some of the lines you'd suggested were risky, but you had the numbers to back it up, and it worked. It worked. The conversation with Tim earlier last week helped with your confidence to take risks in terms of your analytic advice.

You went back to your office after the game, wanting to type up a report of how you impacted tonight's outcome. If it worked this time, who's to say it couldn't work again? But in a higher stakes game? You felt like you were finally contributing to the team, and damn, it felt good.

Your office was barely even that. It was small, but you had a desk, a window, and your name on the door. It was enough for your first major gig. You'd made it a little homey-er with a small succulent and some motivational quotes. You opened up your laptop and began to type up a document report. The words flowed from your fingers and you used the numbers you counted from the box to back up your findings. Time seemed to stand still as you typed, the document becoming longer and longer.

A knock broke your train of thought and you looked up to see Tim poking his head through your office door. He had a shy smile on your face and you shook the writing haze out of your eyes.

"Hey! Come on in," He nodded, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall. "You played a good game." His cheeks flushed and he lifted his hat, running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks, thank you. Anyway, did you eat yet?"

"I mean, I had an iced coffee before the game and a granola bar during the second period. So yeah?" Immediately he started shaking his head and he pushed himself away from the wall. You open your hands as if to say 'what’?" and he outstretched his hand to you.

"Coffee and a granola bar isn't a meal. Let's go get some real food, I'm hungry." He made a grabby hand with his outstretched hand and you sighed.

"I have to finish my report, I can't." He sighed, pushed your laptop shut, and grabbed your hand.

"That can wait. Besides, the boys went out and I need a ride home." He flashed you a shy smile and you rolled your eyes, before picking up your bag and leaving your office with him. You tried not to notice how Tim was still holding onto your hand, but as he tugged you along to a quiet area of the concourse, it was difficult to do. He stopped at a small table with two bar stools. He let go of your hand, cold enveloping you, and you hung your bag on the back of the chair. As you hopped onto the chair, he stayed standing, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you want to eat?" When you shook your head again, he pulled out his puppy dog eyes. "Tim, seriously, I'm fine."

"I'm getting some fries and you will eat some of them. Deal?" Your face pulled into a frown and he repeated himself. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mom, deal."

He gave himself a self assured smile. "Great. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he came back with a container of fries and two small containers. He set them down in front of you before he got seated. A closer look at the container showed one was ketchup and the other was…

"Is this mayo?" He picked up a fry, dipped it in the white substance, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth full, he nodded. "You eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"You don't?"

"No!" You shook your head. He took another fry, dipped it again, and ate it.

"You have to try it, it's good!"

“No, no thank you. You can keep your weird German eating habits to yourself." You laughed, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it.

"Nope, you've got to try one. Please?" You scrunched up your nose, and he held out a white coated french fry. You gave in, taking it from his hands and shoving it in your mouth. You chewed it slowly, contemplating the taste.

"It's...not horrible." He raised his eyebrows at you. "Fine, it's alright." He gave you another look, a small smile forming on his face despite his efforts to hide it. "Okay, okay, I like it. Happy?" He let out a loud laugh.

"Yes! I knew you'd like it!" You laughed a little with him, before dipping another fry in the mayo and popped it in your mouth. The two of you ate in silence, the sounds of the zamboni in the background.

"Why didn't you go out with the guys? You had a good game,"

He shrugged. "I wanted something quieter. Besides, I was hungry and the guys wanted to go out to a bar. Bar food isn't exactly a meal."

"Neither is french fries,"

"Well, maybe, you're just better company than the guys."

"Damn right, I am." You smiled, tapped his fry with yours in a makeshift sort of 'cheers' way. When the two of you had finished your snack, you picked up the container and threw it in the compost bin near the table. You grabbed your bag off the chair, holding up your car keys. He got up off the table, joining you in a slow walk towards the parking lot.

You wished the custodians a good night as the two of you left the arena, the street lights in the parking lot illuminating the way to your car. Silently, you unlocked the car and you both got in. You gave him your phone, telling him to pick any playlist he wanted while you started the car. He picked one of your favourite playlists, a mix of relaxing beats and soft music, which was perfect for late night drives.

"You should have some lo-fi on here, it's a lot like this. I think you'd like it," he said, after you had merged onto the highway.

"Yeah?" He only nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to come back to the car. The rest of the drive was easy, the road being mostly empty and the music filling the car. He gave you quiet directions to the house, more points and here's than actual directions but you were able to find it.

"Thank you for the ride," He said, once you’d put the car in park.

"Thanks for sharing your food with me,” He shook his head and smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll always share with you.” You caught his gaze, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. You could feel your cheeks flush and you waved him out of your car.

“I gotta get home too, you know.” You joked and he got out, popping his head back into the doorway for a second.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” You murmured an ‘of course’ and he nodded, closing the car door and making his way to his front door. You waited until he entered the house before you drove away, turning on a lo-fi playlist from Spotify.

***

“Your turn to pick the movie, but no subtitles please, I’m too lazy to read today.” You handed Tim the remote for his TV while you pulled the blanket closer to your chin. The October chill had settled in his apartment and you hadn’t dressed for his room to feel like the arena.

“Jimmy!” Someone called from the kitchen and a loud clang dissolved any annoyance Tim had from his roommate interrupting his time with you. He rushed to the kitchen and you followed behind shyly. There were platters across the kitchen island, each with a different coloured dish. It looked like there was a salad, a couple casserole dishes, and some plates of desserts. A taller brunette was standing in the kitchen, frantically gesturing between Tim and a pot on the stove. There was a lid on the ground, a splatter of pinkish red liquid surrounding it. You entered the kitchen, picked up the lid before placing it in the sink. The other guy was still explaining to Tim what exactly he wanted to do, even though his head was tilted like a confused puppy. You brushing him aside llightly, grabbing the spoon Tim was holding to stir the pinkish red liquid on the stove. You sent him a small smile back over your shoulder and all you could see in his eyes was relief.

“Thank you!” The oven beeped and you noticed an embroidered #9 on the roommate's Senator sweats. You moved to the side to allow him to get another baking dish from the oven. He placed it on the stovetop and took off his oven mitts. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t think he’d be that helpless in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised anyone in this house can actually cook,” You laughed. The liquid that smelled of oranges and cranberries started to boil, so you reduced the heat and continued to stir it. You look at the baking dish that he brought out of the oven. “Are those brussel sprouts?”

“Yeah! My mom’s recipe; they’re delicious! Do you like them?”

“They’re one of my favourites! My recipe uses bacon though.”

“Oh nice! You’ll have to share it with me, I’d love to try it. And, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Josh,”

“I know.” He shot you a look and you backtracked. “I-Sorry, it’s just-I actually work with you? I’m in the analytics department, so I know your jersey number and I saw it on your sweats and put two and two together. I’m not being a creep, I’m sorry.” The sound of laughter behind you made you blush.

“Not being a creep my ass. They did the same thing when me and Jimmy ran into them for the first time!” Brady commented, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a button up shirt. You shook your head before nodding towards his attire.

“Going somewhere nice?” He looked down at his outfit and shook his head.

“It’s Thanksgiving? It’s why they gave us the day off?” That...that would explain the amount of food in the kitchen. No matter how many years you lived here, you’d always forgotten that Canadian Thanksgiving was a whole month earlier. You placed the stir spoon on a plate next to the pot and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Oh! Um, right, well, uh in that case, I should be, I should get going. You guys must have plans. Nice to meet you Josh.” You made your way out of the kitchen to the foyer where your coat and shoes were without so much as a goodbye to the guys. You could hear Tim coming after you, his steps lighter and more graceful than Brady or Josh’s. But, he didn’t make a move to do anything except stare at you as you got ready to leave. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to put on your shoes that he spoke.

“You should just stay. We’ve got lots of food.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Brady’s bringing his girlfriend and a couple other of the guys are coming over. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

“I don’t know if you have this holiday in Germany, but Thanksgiving is a family thing, Tim.” You sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t I have brought something? Am I even dressed okay?” You looked down at your outfit - a simple pair of jeans and one of your comfiest graphic tees. He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about that. You look great, just enjoy the night with me. Stay? Please? C’mon schatz, you’re like my family to me.” The two of you maintained eye contact until you broke it and took off your coat. You could see Tim’s smile widen and when it came to walking back into the kitchen, he extended his arm. You took it and the two of you made your way back towards what would end up being a wonderful evening full of laughs and smiles shared between friends.

***

You had come over for a trashy reality TV binge after a particularly hard day at work. None of the numbers were adding up the way you needed them to and your laptop was having a hissy-fit all day. Soon enough, you called it a day and texted Tim, telling him you’d be over in twenty minutes. He greeted you at the door with your favourite chocolate treat, a box of Timbits, and “there’s popcorn in the microwave right now, it’s almost done”. You could’ve melted right on the spot. Instead, you made your way over to the couch where you collapsed and pulled the blanket he had already set out for you up to your chin. You breathed in the smells of pine and sock tape and felt your body relax. HGTV played in the background while you waited for him to bring the popcorn out when his phone dinged.

“Tim, your phone!” You yelled to him from across the living room.

“Who is it?” You sighed and moved from your comfortable spot on the couch to check his messages. You turned on the phone to see a message from Josh, saying he’s five minutes away. You went to lock the phone, seeing the unimportance of the message but something caught your eye. You swiped to clear the notification and his background came into focus. It was the two of you standing in front of the Ottawa sign at ByWard market, his arm around your shoulders and a grin on both your faces.

“Who was it?” He entered the room as he repeated his question.

“Just Josh,” you whispered, turning around to face him holding up his phone. “Am I your lock screen?” He blushes, opening his mouth stammering for words. “I am! I knew I was important to you.” You poked him a couple times for an extra tease when his face settled into a small pout and he retaliated by tickling you. You shrieked and hopped up from the couch, laughing as he chased you around the house.

“Stop doing that!” He laughed as you escaped his clutches once more. Your laugh echoed through the house as he tried again to try to tickle you, but you grabbed Josh and used him as a human shield.

“No fair schatz,” He relented his tickling and sat on the couch. You took a seat beside him, but kept your distance in case he decided to start his torture again.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” You look over to him and he’s already scratching the back of his neck.

“What what means?”

“That thing you keep calling me. Like shats?”

Josh laughed and spoke up. “It means swe-”

“Friend! It means friend!” Tim interrupted loudly, his cheeks rosy. “It means friend.” You raised your eyebrows at his outburst and his explanation.

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

He scratched at his jaw and slowly nodded. “In my city, it’s common for friends to just call each other ‘friend’. It’s normal,” You managed out a ‘okay’ between breathy laughs, wondering why he was being so strange about it. It was just a nickname. But the blush in his cheeks didn’t diminish until well after Josh left the room, muttering under his breath about ‘idiots’, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe it meant more than Tim was letting on.

***

“Are you going to be at the gala on Saturday?” Tim asked you as the two of you ate (lunch for you, pre-practice snack for him) on the concourse. It was your first concourse snack since the All-Star break and you had missed him. WhatsApp messages and Instagram messages just weren’t the same as being in his presence. You finished your bite, and shook your head.

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Like...as a date?” You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Maybe this was the clue you were waiting for.

“As friends?” Your eyes darted down onto the counter and Tim took that as a sign you didn’t want to go with him. “There’ll be puppies there.”

“Well,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “If there’s going to be puppies, I need no more convincing.” You forced a smile onto your face and he returned the sentiment, before finishing up the food. You wished him good luck before the game, and left to go the the box.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night and you found yourself in front of the Fairmont Château. You gazed up at the stone walls and admired how the orange glow from the lights gave it such a warm feeling, compared to the shivers that were going up and down your back. You had found time to go and get a fancy outfit for the night, its gold fabric being a perfect fit on your body. Tim had told you he’d meet you inside, so walked upt the steps alone, avoiding the other guests in fancy attire. They looked like they belonged here. You couldn't relate. The front entrance of the hotel was exactly as you expected -- it had marble floors, crown moldings, and a domed ceiling. You followed the chatter to one of the conference rooms, someone offering to check your coat. With just your clutch, you entered the ballroom with the sound of your shoes following you.

You looked around to try to find Tim among the executives, easily spotting him when you heard Brady’s booming laugh in the corner. You made your way over to the group, including Brady, Josh, Drake, Tim and some respective dates. Josh waved at you and Tim turned around to see you walking towards him.

Tim stood there, memorized by the way the Senators gold fabric hugged your figure and the way your eyes had lit up when you saw one of the puppies. You came over to him, brushing his arm before joining the group. Hellos were thrown your way and it wasn’t long before everyone went back to their conversations and you were able to speak with Tim.

“You look handsome." You handed him your clutch, which he held unashamedly, as you adjusted his gold bowtie, letting your hands linger on the front of his chest. You gulped before snapping out of your trance and took your clutch back from him.

“Um, uh, thanks. You look...good too,” His voice was breathy and his cheeks had flushed a little. You smiled at him, before noticing another golden retriever stumbling around next to its trainer and darting off to pet it. Tim watched you go and he stood back, blown away by the way his heart was beating faster and how he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You finally figured it out, huh?” He turned around at Drake’s voice. He had recognized the look on Tim’s face, it was the same one he had when he looked at his partner. Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“Figured what out?”

Drake scoffed and took a gulp of his drink. “God, you already know and you’re denying it. You’re in love with them.” Tim shook his head, waving off the thought. You were his best friend, nothing more. “C’mon man, you can keep lying to yourself but it’s obvious to everyone else.” He was then swept away by a reporter, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

He wasn’t in love with you. He was sure of it. You were his best friend, his safe spot. It’s not like when he sees you his heart beats faster or he notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh or when the sun hits your skin just right, you look like an angel. It’s not like the more he looks at your lips the more he wants to know if they taste like your sweet honey lip chap. It’s not like your smile could cure his darkest days or that he could see himself introducing you to his family as his partner.

Except it was like that.

Tim saw all of that with you. He saw more galas, more late night drives, lazy Sunday mornings. He wanted to see you after his games, not in your office, but in the tunnel where you’d be wearing his jersey and a special jean jacket. He wanted to take you home to meet his family, his hometown friends. He wanted to show you all the places that were special to him, just as you showed his places special to you. He wanted to meet Dani and see if she thought he was good enough to be your partner. As he stared at you petting the small golden pup, he realized Drake was right. He was in love with you.

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

You didn’t give him too much time to think about that as you came up behind him, telling him everything about the golden retriever you just met. He smiled at you, and motioned with his head to find your seats as dinner was going to be served soon. You sat next to him, your leg brushing against his under the table. Even from that, he got shocks-- tiny lightning bolts trailing up his body. It was like every sense was heightened after he came to the realization that he loved you. How am I supposed to even act around them? He thought.

The meal passed without issue and while Tim went about schmoozing all the executives and donors, you stick with the other halves. You had already met Emma, Brady’s partner, and she introduced you to Dakota, Briar, and Marissa (she had also told you who they came with but that information had not stuck with you).

“Sooo… Emma, how’s the wedding planning going?” Briar asked. She had gotten engaged over the holiday break. She laughed and waved off the question.

“Oh, not at all! We’re just enjoying being engaged, it’s like the honeymoon phase all over again,”

“Just like you and Tim,” Dakota nudged you and wiggled her eyebrows. You coughed on your drink at her statement.

“What?” You managed to sputter. Emma looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. “What do you mean, like me and Tim?”

“Oh come on, it’s so obvious the two of you are in your honeymoon phase! Don’t be ashamed of it, you’re such a cute couple!”

“Ooh yes!! How his bowtie matched your outfit is like goals, I wish my boyfriend did that with me,” Marissa mentioned. Your voice felt caught in your throat and you were instantly aware of the breeze in the room and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends,” Your voice was small.

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly, babe. Oh, look, here comes your man.” Dakota winked at you before turning into her own date. You turn around quickly to see him walking over to you, laughing with Brady and Josh. Normally, the sight of him would calm you down. He was such a genuine person and you appreciated how you never had to shrink yourself to fit in with him. But with the girls’ comments, you suddenly couldn’t be around him. When his hand met the small of your back, you flinched before relaxing into his touch. It was just Tim, your Tim. It’s not a big deal unless you make it a big deal.

“Timmy, I was just telling Y/n what a cute couple you two are!”

“Well, what do they say? Oh right, they complete me,” He sent you a wink and pulled you closer to his side. You went stiff in his hold, and he noticed, instantly letting you out of his grip. You muttered out an excuse about work and said quick goodbyes to the group before you were out of the gala as fast as your shoes could allow. Your cheeks were hot with...embarrassment? No, that wasn’t quite it. But they were hot, and the room felt small with Dakota’s teasing so just needed to escape. You needed to have fresh air in your lungs, needed to feel the cool Ottawa air on your arms. Needed to be somewhere other than beside him and his light teasing that left your stomach in knots.

But you hadn't even reached the front door and grabbed your coat from the coat check when Tim caught up to you. He watched you try to put on your coat, as he rocked back and forth on his heels like that first day you met.

“Do you… do you actually have work in the morning or were you just saying that?” You looked up and met his eyes, the orbs holding a certain vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“I got called at the last minute. I forgot to tell you, Jody’s kid got sick so I’m covering the game on Sunday but I haven’t prepared my notes or anything and you know me, I’ve got to be prepared or I won’t make a coherent analysis and then I’m really in trouble-” Tim cut your rambling off with a murmur of your name and you slowed your frantic movements to look at him.

“We’re okay, right?”

You smiled at him before you walked out the glass door. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

***

Last night was confusing to say the least. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks from...embarrassment? No, it wasn’t that. It was more like you couldn’t stand around to see what he meant by his comment. You couldn’t stand around why everyone else say you as a couple when you knew you weren’t. But you were okay with not being a couple weren’t you?

It’s like not you liked him that way. Yeah, a simple smile from him could turn your day around and your concourse snacks were the highlight of your week. But that’s because he was your best friend. It’s not like you wanted to spend every morning waking up to him or spend your afternoons running your fingers through his hair. It’s not like you wanted to take him back to Seattle to meet Dani or how you wanted to wear his jersey to call him yours. It’s not like you daydreamed about him gently holding your hand as you walked through ByWard market or how soft his lips would be as he leaned in to kiss you or what his abs felt like without a shirt separating your fingers from his skin.

Except it was like that.

And then came the comment at the gala. Did that mean he liked you too? But he said you were just going as friends. Did he mean it platonically? What if you read things wrong? Fuck, why were feelings so complicated?

Dani, you needed to call Dani. She’d know what to make of all this. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Thanks for calling Books By The Ocean, may you please hold?”

“Dani, it’s me.” Hold music filled your ear and you rolled your eyes. A few minutes later, there was almost certainly a hole in your rug from your pacing and she finally picked up.

“Why’d you resort to calling the store? I would’ve answered my phone eventually,”

“Yeah, eventually. I just really need to talk to you now,”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

“Is it Tim? Please tell me it’s Tim.” When you didn’t answer, she rejoined before reeling it in and telling you to continue.

“Anyways...we’re pretty good friends, I've known him since like the start of the season, and I don’t know, like I think he likes me? And I mean, I like him, he’s really great but, like, I just-”

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I want to take the next step with him. I want to be more than friends with him. I want all those things but… I just seem frozen. Like when I think about telling him, my body feels like it won’t move. It feels like I’m underwater. But I want to do more with him. I want that. Why won’t my brain get that and let me… I don’t know, let me act on my feelings?”

“You’re protecting yourself. You’ve never got hurt before,” You scoffed at her statement.

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

“Okay, sure, when you scraped your knee or when Nancy Peters called you dumb in second grade but you haven’t got hurt before. You haven’t opened yourself up to someone and let someone into your heart and let them see you for who you are.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but that’s because they might not like what they see,”

She sighed. “You can’t go through life with your walls up, kiddo. It’s hard, but you have to trust yourself. You have to let yourself feel. You have to let people in. When we were little and moved around a lot, maybe it was a survival tactic. But you’ve been in Ottawa for close to five years now and have unpacked all your boxes? Have you had any friends over? You’ve put down roots there but you’re still holding onto a survival tactic when you need to be living, not just surviving.

“I let people in--”

“No. You don’t. Has Tim ever been in your apartment? Has he seen that even though you resent Mom, you still have family photos of the four of us in your living room? Does he know about Dad? You might have told him stuff but you’re still living behind walls.” She sighed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard on you, but I want to see you thrive kiddo. I want you to experience life, and yeah, hurt is a part of life. You aren’t doing life right if you come out unscathed. And sure, maybe he’s a great friend. But in some instances, that romantic partner can fill a more emotionally secure place. People usually place more trust in their partner than just a friend. You’ve got to open up to him more than you already have if you want more from him.”

“How do I do that?”

“You’ve got to figure that out on your own kiddo, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Honestly; no hiding behind your friendship.” You nodded to her advice, before realizing she couldn’t see you, and thanked her for her help. She hung up with the promise to chat again on Wednesday like you normally did. You threw your phone beside the sink and leaned your head against the cool counter.

Be honest with him

Okay, you could do that. Easy enough right? You just had to make a plan to tell him. You could do that.

***

You were walking through the halls close to the bench to deliver your latest stats to the coach. It was your job after the other analysts determined you “had the youngest feet” and could go scouring around to find the coach. You didn’t mind. Besides… if you just happened to bump into Tim while you were down here, well then that was a completely unplanned coincidence. Since the gala and your chat with Dani afterwards, you were feeling good about where you stood with Tim. And you’d made your plan. After the game, you’d meet up for after-game snacks like most home games and you had told yourself you’d talk to him then.

You had given the latest report to the coach on the bench, walking past the locker room towards the box when you heard Tim's voice.

“...I don’t know man, I just need a break from Y/n.” You stopped in your tracks. It wasn’t that you meant to be nosy, but at the mention of your name… you wanted to see what else he had to say. You hadn’t meant to smother him but you guess he saw it differently. Your shoulders dropped and you bit your lip.

“I only have a problem around them!” You could feel the breakfast in your stomach start to turn, the feeling of bile starting to rise up. A ringing started to fill your ears, the white static noise only being pieced by his once comforting voice.

“It’s just… We work together, you know? It’s awkward,” Where was this attitude when you were hanging out at the start of the season? Last week? If this is how he felt, why didn’t… what did he mean by his comment to Dakota?

His voice shook you out of your trance. “Like at the end of the day, I’m me… they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re...them.” At that, you rushed away from earshot. If that was how he really felt, then screw him. If he was the hockey star and you were just the analyst, then that’s what role you’d play. Nothing more, nothing less. And he wasn’t brave enough to say that to your face, you’d say it first.

This is why you didn’t open yourself up. If you were going to get hurt either way, it might as well be the least damaging option.

Over the next few games and practices, you kept your distance from the players. You avoided the bench, sending Jody to give reports to the coach. You kept your office door closed, the blinds closed, and you made sure to time your exits of the arena to avoid Tim. If avoiding him meant you avoided the inevitable conversation where he would tell you your flaws and point out every way you misread things, then you would do that.

After you heard that, you stopped going out of your way to pass by the boys in the arena. You went into your office, closed the door, and didn’t leave until you went home. When you had to sit in the stands for practices, you sat higher than you used to and ignored the waves and stared you got from the team. He sent the occasional text but you replied with an im busy too many times that he stopped trying. It was odd to you how he kept reaching out when he was the one who said he needed a break but you ignored that voice in your head.

It was a Friday when he finally confronted you. You had been so close to leaving the arena, just one more hallway, and you would’ve been out the door and into the parking lot. He had called your name and you tried to turn the corner without him but he caught up easily, grabbing your wrist to get you to stay.

“What’s up? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” He let go of your wrist as you turned to face him.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re a bigshot NHL player and I’m a lowly analyst.” He squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think we should be friends anymore,”

He slowly nodded, thinking your words over in his head. “Okay. Um...I think… yeah, that could be good. I don’t think we should be just friends either.” He shot you a shy smile with a spark of hope in his eyes but you frowned.

“Good. It’s settled then.” You turned on your heel and walked away from him, only wiping your teary eye once you had rounded the corner, refusing to let him see you cry. You missed the way he frowned as you retreated.

The weekend was spent in bed, repeat episodes of Loki playing in the background. Loki never hurt you the way Tim had, the way his words dug into your insecurities of being alone creating a wound like no other. You had turned your phone off earlier as it kept buzzing with messages from him. You didn’t want to hear his excuses of why and you didn’t want to explain that you’d overheard his conversation. But the season wasn’t over yet so you gave yourself two days to grieve. When Monday morning came, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Tim caught you in the main entrance way at the rink. It was close to 8am and you knew he didn’t have practice until 11, so it was obvious he was waiting for you. You walk right past him until he softly calls your name and you stop walking, but don’t turn around. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know why.” You whipped around and scoffed at him. “And you know what else? If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said something. You didn’t have to keep hanging out with me.”

“What?”

“I think we should just keep this professional, 18. I’m nothing more than a background analyst to your hockey superstar, so let’s just stick to our jobs, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We work together, we shouldn’t be friends, you said it yourself. It’ll be better this way. Now, please, just leave me alone.” You brushed by him, bumping your shoulder with his, and you missed the way his jaw fell open at how quickly your relationship seemed to change.

He seemed to leave you alone after that. He didn’t check in and he didn’t send funny memes he found. He didn’t text you to tell you he landed safely on road trips and you didn’t congratulate him on a game well played. You could tell Brady and Josh thought it was weird but didn’t say anything, just gave you pitying looks when you passed by or caught their eye in the halls.

The Senators failed to clinch a playoff spot, thanks to an overtime loss to Winnipeg. The end of the season for you was nice. It meant a shift in your work to more prospects, and thankfully, a more flexible work schedule. You didn’t have to go into the arena and most of the players went back to their hometowns to visit. It was supposed to be a reprieve for you, knowing Tim wasn’t even in the country. It was supposed to be relaxing, going to all the places that had helped you in the past to regroup your thoughts.

But instead, it felt suffocating, strolling through the market. You’d been here thousands of times to clear your head, but this time the deeper you walked, the more the thoughts in your head swirled into a hurricane.

You’d never know what home felt like. You’d had friends tell you it’s having like extended family over around the holidays or it’s the peacefulness they felt at their lake house. You thought you had found it in Ottawa, its quaintness and history bringing you a sense of calm you hadn’t had before. But only with Tim did you feel that inner peace that home felt like. Only with Tim did you feel like you could take on the world. Only with Tim did you feel whole.

And that was scary.

Feeling like one person could complete you, like they had a piece of your heart you didn’t know you gave them, was scary. You were used to being on your own. You’d done it throughout your levels of schooling and throughout the beginnings of your career. And all it took for that strength to come crashing down was a bashfully confident German hockey player.

He couldn’t even tell you why. It would’ve hurt more to hear the exact reasons why you weren’t good enough for him, but it would have quelled your mind from picking on every single insecurity your mind could come up with.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the Ottawa sign. You glanced around to see couples waiting for their turn at the sign. Some of the guys had their arms around the shoulders’ of their girlfriends. Some of the girls had their hands clasped in their girlfriends’. Some people had their arms around the waist of their partner. But they all had a smile on their face, a fondness that was reserved for the love of their life.

Your eye caught the sight of a backwards Senators cap and your head whipped around. The person was tall and was wearing a grey hoodie. The man turned to the side and you caught a glance of the brown tufts of hair that stuck out of the cap. He threw his head back and the corners of your mouth turned up. Tim’s laugh was always infectious, even if you were upset with him.

But it wasn’t him.

He hadn’t reached out since the day in the hallway. As much as you knew you didn’t want to hear him say things more hurtful than what you overheard, you couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong. The what-ifs tumbled around in your head, the possibilities of why suddenly your friendship was too much for him.

As you stood there in the market, the memories racing through your mind mixed with images of happy couples all around you, you knew you had to get out. You don’t really remember the rush of leaving, all you know is that the city that felt big for so many years now felt too small. You can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him, his smile, his laugh. How his eyes glimmer from the light of a movie. You drove yourself to the airport, knowing there wasn’t going to be a cab this early in the morning.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the familiar blue painted bookstore with your duffle bag in your hands. It was raining and overcast in Seattle, which wasn’t unusual, but even the fat teardrops felt melancholic. The sign in the window said closed, but you knew Dani would be in the back, organizing new stock. You knocked on the window, the sound rattling through the worn building. A few seconds later, her head of light pink hair came to the door, opening it. Before she could question your presence, you spoke.

“He didn’t want me,” you cried. “He didn’t even see all of me and he didn’t want me.” You dropped your bag as she pulled you into a hug. One hand cradled the back of your head as she pulled you out of the rain and into the store. You inhaled her scent, a mix of sea salt and the old bookstore, and squeezed her tightly. When she released you from the hug, she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing down your jaw. She gave you a soft smile, before walking to the back of the store, where her apartment was. Your shoes squeaked against the old hardwood floors as you followed her towards the kitchen, where you could smell a pot of tea brewing.

She was silent as she poured you a cup, kissed your head, before whispering everything was going to work out. She slipped out of the room, giving you your space.

You didn’t even have to ask. Dani let you stay with her for the summer, as long as you helped out around the store when you weren’t doing your own work. She didn’t push you for details about Tim, she just let you be. You tried your best to be cheery around the customers but that facade only lasted so long. When you were alone, you didn’t try to hide the emptiness you felt there.

***

Too soon did the days start to get shorter, the nights colder, the pitter-patter of raindrops became more constant which meant fall was coming. The season was starting up again, and you had to head back to Ottawa. This summer at home was a nice break but you knew that running away wasn’t going to solve all your problems. You were packing when a text from Josh came in.

So when are you getting in?

i land at 9pm on the 20th. Why?

Can’t I wonder when my friend gets into the city?

we’re friends?

Of course we are Numbers! I don’t share family recipes with just anyone :)

good to know thanks :)

You continued packing, thinking about what he said. You knew the two of you were friends, but he was Tim’s teammate. His roommate. To hear him say, regardless of where you and Tim stand, that you two were still good was a relief. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time away from the city, you missed work. You missed sitting in the arena, a brisk chill over your shoulder, the sounds of scraping ice and whistles. You missed the quaintness of Ottawa and, as much as he’d never let you forget it, you missed Josh’s cooking. Nights with Dani didn’t compare to nights with Brady (and sometimes Emma) and Josh.

Dani parked in the loading zone of the airport. She got out of the car to help with your bag, even though you had only brought one.

“Hey, listen, um. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Tim but… I think you need to talk to him.”

“Dani...”

“No, listen. I think you need some closure. You ran away from a city you haven’t left in five years, a city you so obviously love, because it hurt to think about him. Maybe closure means you talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t. But you’ve spent this whole summer looking lost, like you’re waiting for something to magically appear and make everything better. You look like you’ve lost a piece of yourself and you don’t know how to get it back. And that’s not you, kiddo. It’s never been you; you’ve always been so straightforward and sure of yourself. I want you to feel like yourself again, that’s all.”

“What if…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What if the piece of me that I lost isn’t something I can get back?”

“Then you fill it. It might not be perfect and maybe you need lots of tape, and maybe you accept that there will be small cracks in it, but those holes make your souls yours. It’s a part of life, and you can’t avoid it no matter how hard you try.” You pulled her in for a hug, some of the tears in your eyes dropping onto her shoulder.

“Thank you Dani. For everything.” She pulled back to wipe the tears from your face, a smile on her face.

“You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Take care of yourself, okay?” You nodded, knowing if you spoke again, more tears would bubble over. You walked towards the departures gate, walking towards the reality you ran from.

Several hours later, you were happy to be back in Ottawa. You had missed it, as much as it pained you when you were here. Tim Hortons, bilingual signs, friendly smiles, and oh god you could have real poutine again. Yeah, it was nice to be back.

Dani’s words mulled over in your head throughout the flight, and continued to as you made your way through the airport. She was right, maybe you needed closure. Accept what happened and move on. You’d lost friends when you graduated early, you’d lost friends when you moved away. You’d lost friends before and this was no different.

Except you knew deep down it was different. It was Tim; it was always going to be different with him.

You shook your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the thought. If Tim didn’t want to be around you, then you weren’t going to waste your time waiting for him to show up. You’d suck it up everything you had to look at a stat, but other than that you’d focus on work, focus on proving yourself in the company. You started to walk towards where you’d parked your car (without wondering how much the parking was), ignoring the happy reunions of students and families. You had been perfectly fine being in Ottawa on your own until you realized how much better it could be when you had someone.

A hand grasped your wrist and instantly, you turned around and ripped your arm from the stranger. You looked up, first to see a bouquet of flowers made up of peach roses, white tulips, and hydrangeas. Behind the colours of the flowers, you see a familiar face, eyes full of sorrow and hope. Even when you were ignoring him, he was still so easy to read.

“Number 18.” You struggled to keep your voice even, but you lifted your head to appear as if he had no effect on him.

“Hi Y/n,” He met your eyes, which you quickly darted away. “These are for you.” He tried to hand the bouquet to you, but you shook your head.

“How did you know when I got in?” The coldness in your voice surprised Tim, but he didn’t show it, swallowing slowly before answering you.

“Josh told me." You folded your arms, your hands gripping your bag in case you needed to get away from this conversation.

“Josh mentioned it or you asked Josh?” When he didn’t answer, you knew it was the latter and scoffed at his sneaky actions. You quickly turned away from him and moved faster towards the exit. You heard him sigh from behind you and before you could make a sly comment about it beneath your breath, he was ahead of you, blocking your way. You tried to side-step him, but hockey reflexes prevailed. You glared his way and tried again, silently begging him to move.

“C’mon, you have to talk to me sometime, we work together,” He commented.

“That’s exactly it. We work together. You’re the high and mighty NHL superstar and I’m the nerdy analyst. We have our places. They don’t mix, so really I don’t have to work with you at all. So, please, if you could just move, I have nothing else to say to you.” You tried once more to step around him, but he lightly grabbed your forearm to stop you.

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

“You had months to say it, so I’ll say it again, please let me by.” Suddenly, he was on his knees in the airport, the flowers still outstretched in his hands.

“Y/n,”

“What are you doing?” You hiss to him, your face darting around to see people starting to stare at Tim’s grand gesture.

“I need you to talk to me, and you won’t, so I’ll beg until you agree to hear me out,” You could feel more people staring, the shutter of camera phones, the eyes of everyone in the Ottawa airport (or what felt like it) easily making up your mind. There was a reason you were an analyst, away from the spotlight, doing your work behind the scenes.

“Get up,” you started to pull on his arm, but he just stayed anchored to the ground.

“You’ll talk to me?”

“18, I will do anything as long as you stop making a scene,” At this point, your cheeks felt as if you’d stood under the beating sun for an hour. He got up from his knees, the flowers still outstretched in his hands, and you let go of his arm. You grabbed the flowers from his arms, dropping them in a garbage bin as you stalked out of the airport. Tim caught up to you and walked by your side.

You said nothing as you reached your car, unlocking the doors. You didn’t even wait for him to have his seatbelt on before you were backing out of the stall and driving away. Thoughts were running wild in your head; you were angry and embarrassed at the stunt he pulled at the airport, appalled at the audacity he had to show up after what he said, and last of all you were reluctantly happy to be back in his presence again. So you went to the one place you knew you could think.

You put the car in park overlooking the suburbs. You turned it off and rested your arms on the steering wheel. You couldn’t make the effort to get out and walk to the lookout spot, the car creating a safe bubble for your thoughts.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” His soft voice broke the tense silence in the car and you scoffed.

“We’re not friends anymore. You’re the Senators star player and I’m just the nerdy analyst. There’s no reason for me to need to talk to you.”

“See, you keep saying that but I-I don’t get it! What does that even mean?” You furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him, his own face scrunched up and his eyes hard.

“What do you mean you don’t get it? You said that! The last game against Montréal? I was walking past the locker room and… I overheard you talking with the guys.” You looked down to your lap, findling with your hands. You briefly saw Tim’s hand start to move towards you, but you shook your head and it stayed in his lap. “You said you needed a break from me. You said that ‘at the end of the day they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re.. them’. You said you had a problem with me. What was I supposed to take from that except that you didn’t want me to be in your life?”

He stammered for words but you cut him off. “No, I don’t think you understand how much it hurt. Hurt to have the one person who I thought understood me to talk behind my back about how I wasn’t enough for them. It hurt to know that the one person who I always wanted to talk to, didn’t want to talk to me. Hurt to think that you’ve only ever seen me as just some nerdy analyst who has no place in your life. I had been fine before, without you in my life, but then you came in and knocked down every barrier I ever had. And then left as if you didn’t just break my life into pieces!

“I left Ottawa because it hurt too much to go to all my favourite places, because I went there with you. I let you into my safe spaces, and when you left, you shattered that security. You tainted all the good I had there. I thought that Ottawa was home before I met you,” you scoffed. “Not even close. You feel like home to me. And for you to say that I was a problem in your life?” You shook your head at him and looked down at your hands. “I tried to get over it, believe me I did. But every single place I went I was reminded of you… and how everything we had didn’t feel like a big deal to you.”

“I never meant for that to happen.” His voice was quiet and strained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions within him.

“You know the hardest part? I didn’t just have to get over losing my best friend. I had to get over someone I fell in love with! I lost the single most important relationship with one tiny little passing conversation. And you acted like nothing happened! Like we were still friends, like you still cared for me-”

“Ich liebe dich du trottel!” His outburst caught you off guard and you gulped. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car as you whispered.

“You know I don’t speak German…”

“You don’t need to know German to know what I said,” His eyes were hard, a look you had only seen during games.

“Oh.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Wait what?”

“I didn’t say those things you think I did! You didn’t listen to the whole thing! Brady was teasing me about me saying I don’t have a problem talking to people I like and I don’t normally but you’re the exception! I needed a break from you because everytime I see you, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get sweaty and I don’t know how to act! And the guys said that sounds like I’m in love with you-- and I am! I am! But when I finally started to do something about it, you ran away from me! I didn’t know what to do. Besides, if I fell in love with you...it could mess with our jobs. Because if for any reason, something happens, they’d fire you before they’d ever trade me. And you’ve worked too hard to have an opportunity like this be taken away from you because of me. So... I didn’t know what to do. And then you just kept ignoring me and saying those things about how you’re just a nerdy analyst…. It felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore and I didn’t know where it came from or what to do either so I tried to give you space. But then you shut me out. And you said we shouldn’t be friends. So I thought that meant.... you wanted to be more than friends? And the boys were saying that you being mean to me was just you having a hard time having feelings for me but then you… uh, yelled at me so I left you alone. But that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.” He placed one of his hands on top of your tentatively, giving you the option to shoo his hand away. When you didn’t, he rubbed the skin on top of your hand. “It never meant I stopped caring about you.”

He sighed. “I guess I see now that I should not have given you space. I should’ve been better for you because that’s what you deserve.”

“I could’ve been better too, this isn’t all your fault. I said some mean things.”

“I promise you, that when we’re together I’m not a NHL player. I’m just me… just Tim from Germany who likes hockey. You have always seen me for who I am, and that’s...that’s something I love about you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Love… was a big word. Love was for confident people. Love was for those who didn’t understand the weight of that four letter word. Love wasn’t a word you threw around. Love was scary. It asked you to place your bandaged heart in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t drop it, shattering the pieces into smithereens. Love meant letting down those walls that time and time again had proved that needed to stay up. To protect you. To avoid the heartache of broken trust.

And here he was, throwing that word around as if the implications didn’t matter. As if he didn’t leave. As if he didn’t call you a problem. As if he didn’t know the months you spent trying to forget him and the fragments he left behind.

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

“I… I can’t do this.” You go to open the car door only for it to lock. You gasp, and you whip your head around, your eyes sharp. “This is my car, you can’t do that!” His eyes went wide and you tried again, only for it to be locked again. You gritted your teeth and he spoke before you could reprimand him again.

“Don’t shut me out again! You say you can’t do this, okay, but tell me why. We’re supposed to-to talk to each other! We would’ve had no mess if you had just talked to me after you heard what I said! So.. talk to me,” You met his soft eyes, your resolve breaking with just one look. “Please, schatz.”

You slowly pulled your hand off the handle, letting it fall into your lap. You picked at your fingernails while trying to compose your thoughts, Tim’s concerned eyes never leaving you. He murmured your name and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know if I can jump back into where we were. I know that… it’s different than I thought but I can’t-” you cut yourself off before you said something you regret and a cold chill ran through you. “It still hurts. I can’t just unhear those things you said. Especially when they came from you. So, I’m going to need time to process everything.”

He placed one of his hands over your fidgeting fingers and you lifted your head to meet his soft eyes. “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you know, yeah?” Before you could nod your head, he had opened his door and got out of your vehicle. You quickly got out to question him.

“What are you doing?” He turns around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

“How are you planning to get home? Uber?” He shrugged before nodding, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Uh, no. No. Get in.” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “It’s almost 11pm, we’re in a dark forestry area, and you are the least threatening person I know. I’m not going to let you get stabbed by some murder psycho; you still mean something to me, you know.”

At that he came over to the car, and the two of you got settled back into your seats. After you buckled up and started the engine, Tim broke his silence.

“Did you mean that? That I still mean something to you?”

You swallowed slowly and took a while to answer his question, your hand resting on the gear shift. You put the car in reverse, and looked over at him. “You’re always going to mean something to me. Just what exactly you are changes.” You backed out of the parking lot and started the drive to his place. He was quiet for a few minutes, pondering your answer, but when he spoke his voice had the quiet confidence he always carried around with him.

“Can I ask what I am right now?” Streetlights illuminated his face and out of the corner of your eye you see him slightly turned towards you, his face unsure.

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

The rest of the drive back to his house was quiet, aside from the lo-fi beats you had playing in the background. Despite the tension, the drive felt comfortable. When you parked in front of his house, he cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you for the ride. I’ll see you around I guess,” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his hand on the handle.

“Goodnight Tim.” Despite your smile, Tim really hoped your goodnight didn’t also mean goodbye. He got out of your car, walked up the steps to his door, unlocked it and gave you a small wave before he went inside.

Tim was true to his word. He gave you space. He didn’t go back to the lookout spot or the war memorial, knowing those were your sanctuaries before they were his. He didn’t ask for updates, he didn’t stop by your office, he didn’t ask Josh how you were doing.

And you appreciated it. The time and space left you alone with your thoughts and you often visited the lookout spot or the war memorial, trying to find some peace, but those spots were now shared with Tim. So, for the first time in a long time, you spent time in your apartment.

When you moved in, you hadn’t done anything to the place. Spaces were temporary in your experience. It was more hassle than it was worth to try to make the space your own if, in a year everything was a clean slate. But Dani was right. It had been close to six years now since you moved in. Six years. You had a stable job, you had friends here, it was time to accept that maybe this was more than temporary.

You started by unpacking the last few boxes that were stacked in the hallway. You replaced the command hooks hanging your picture frames with nails. You got new paint to liven up the living room from the basic beige it was before. You put the work into making your apartment really yours. You had to stop living behind walls and this was a first step.

The next step was to really open up.

***

You were waiting outside the dressing room for Tim to get out. You came down as soon as practice finished so you knew you wouldn’t miss him. You leaned against the cool concrete, trying to control your bouncing leg. He was one of the last out of the dressing room and you shyly smiled at the other players who left. When he came out, you popped off from the wall and stood in front of him.

“Do you still want to know why I picked hockey?” You could tell your question caught him off guard but he nodded nonetheless. “You had asked and I brushed it off...because it hurt to think about. Because it was my dad...He loved hockey. Everywhere we went, there was a team he could cheer for, but he always wished that his hometown team would win, no matter how bad they were. He took me to a game once. I had asked why he liked it so much, it was cold and loud and people were drunk and I’m pretty sure our team was losing. We were down in the crowd and he said to me, ‘Hockey is this great sport. It connects people. It creates families right before your eyes. Enemies can become teammates. This...this sport can be a family for you, anywhere you go. I hope one day you can find something that does the same thing for you.’ Two weeks later, he had a heart attack. So, I held onto the one thing that he found belonging in. I liked my math, it made sense, and I’m good at it. But when it came to doing something with my life, I just- I wanted something to make my dad proud of me, you know? I wanted to feel connected to him.”

Tim was silent but he pulled you into a hug, your head going into the crook of his neck. His arms went around your waist and he held you for a minute. “Your dad would be proud of you. I know he would. Why’d you tell me now though?”

“Well, friends share personal stuff, right?” You pulled away from the hug just enough to catch his eyes. You looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled.

“Yeah, they do.” He broke the hug, but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “C’mon, friends also eat brussel sprouts for each other.” You laughed at his distaste for them and the two of you walked out the parking lot together, his arm still slung around your shoulders.

***

You looked up at the ceiling, your bedsheets twisted beside you. It had been about two weeks since you told Tim about your dad, and since then, the two of you had been exchanging texts daily. It felt familiar, even though both of you knew it was different. Not a bad different, just… different. You’d been over to his place a couple times and he came over for your place for a ‘welcome back’ dinner.

You were nervous to show him your apartment, but you knew you had grown into the space. It was no longer generic beige walls and command strips. The living room had an accent wall and you put nails in the wall to hang your family photos in the hallway. Tim took his time looking around your space, spending extra time in the hallway. He stopped in front of the picture of your family, all four of you, and smiled.

“My parents are coming into town when we play the Caps in December, if you want to meet them?” He had said when you sat down to eat. You sputtered your drink a little and set down the glass.

“Only if...you meet Dani when we go to Seattle in January?” His face broke into a grin and he nodded.

“I’d love that.” The rest of the dinner had no issues, just two friends catching up and getting familiar with each other again.

But he wanted you to meet his parents. He wanted you to meet the people who raised him, his family. And you didn’t have any hesitations. You wanted to meet the people who made Tim who he is.

This past week solidified that you knew what you wanted. You wanted to meet Tim’s family, you wanted to show him around Seattle, you wanted to be with him. If he still wanted to be with you.

If.

He had been pretty clear where he stood on his feelings, but the voice in the back of your mind taunted you with that one tiny two letter word. He might have seen how you reacted, how unstable you were, and how you weren’t ready to jump into things as a sign you didn’t want this. He could’ve taken your steps to being friends again as being just friends again. He could’ve-

You weren’t going to wait around to let what-if’s and might of’s and could’ve’s waft around in your head. You needed to talk to him, needed to see him. So in your pajama pants and a hoodie, you braved the Canadian night and drive to his house. You parked the car, rather haphazardly, but it could wait. You skipped a step walking up to his door and quickly phoned him.

You paced back and forth on the small porch as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hallo?” His accent was thicker in his native language, the harsh constants sounding so soft from his lips.

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

A sigh escapes you. “Tim. I know. I know now.”

“Well if you looked at a clock before you left your place, you would’ve known earlier. That would’ve-”

“Tim.” You gulped and your voice trembled slightly. “I’m ready. I know what I want.” The tone of your voice dropped its lightheartedness and that alone was enough to shake the sleep from his mind. But your words? More than enough to get him out of bed and racing (as quietly as he could in the dark) towards you.

He opened the front door in his sleep joggers to see you pacing and shaking your arms. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to admire you. The way your hair fell, your Senator pajama pants that Brady gave you as a gag gift, the way you bit your lip between your teeth.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your trance, your head whipping around to see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet, the nerves getting the best of you. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the grey hoodie you knew for a fact was his favourite. “Oh, right, I have to go first. Um...Are- are you still sure about your feelings for me?” He nodded. “And-and they’re for sure, good feelings?”

“… They’re such good feelings.” You nodded and gave your body another shake through, as if to dissipate the nerves racing throughout your veins.

“I know it’s taken me a while to kinda sort everything out but… I like you too. That’s why hearing those things hurt so much. That’s why I had to take some time. I've been alone for most of my life and it was scary to let someone in so easily, unknowingly. You just waltzed in and made yourself at home in my heart and it felt like you belonged so I… I didn’t even realize you could hurt me. And when I heard those things, it hurt more. It just solidified that I should’ve stayed alone. You can’t get hurt if there’s no one to hurt you right? But every talk, every late night drive, everything we had...it was worth all the hurt. So I’m ready. I want to do this with you, even if it hurts. I don’t know if I can do life without you.” He pushed himself off of the doorframe and came to stand in front of you, his hand cupping your cheeks, soothing the skin under your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and I don’t plan on doing it ever again, Y/n, you have to know that.” You nodded against his hands and you could feel some of his tension fade from his body. “Does this mean… we could be more than friends?”

“I want to be much more than friends with you, Tim.” You bit your lip to try to stop your smile from growing so wide, but it broke through when you saw how wide his smile was and how his eyes crinkled with joy.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” He asked softly, already leaning in. He left space between the two of you so you could decide but you easily leaned into him, your lips meeting. It was gentle but it was loving. You moved in sync, Tim’s hand moving to the back of your head to push you closer to him. Eventually, you pulled away for air.

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

“You know, I don't think you've told me what that really means,” You said with a cheeky smile.

“Would you like me to say it in English, sweetheart?” He brushed his nose with yours.

“Hmm, German is fine,” You tilted your head upwards, almost brushing your lips with his. With your teasing, he let out a groan, bringing you in for another kiss. This time he broke for air, his eyes still slightly closed.

“You know, you cured my homesickness. I never felt like I missed home because I found home in you,” He whispered. Your heart melted and you brought your lips together with a passion he hadn’t seen from you before. Your hands tangled in his hair and he chased your lips as if it was a breakaway. When you broke for air, the two of you were breathless.

“As much as I want to keep doing that, it’s also very early and I am tired. Can we go back to bed please?” His arms were still around your waist, but he leaned back enough that you could see his face, puppy dog eyes and all. You nodded to his request with a soft smile, and went to remove yourself from his arms and go back to your car, but he tightened his grip.

“I got you now, so I’m not letting you go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and slowly the two of you made your way into the warm house. He led you through the dark hallways to his bedroom, giggling and sneaking kisses where you could.

You fell asleep so easily, the quickest you have the entire time you had lived in Ottawa. And it wasn’t only Tim’s warmth, or the way his sheets smell like hockey tape and his peppermint shampoo. You had finally opened yourself up. You had found that belonging your dad always wanted you to. And you found that in Tim; whether he knew it or not, he was home.

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[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N:  I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

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Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube. 

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy. 

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock. 

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

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[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-Something There

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: i am so beyond sorry that it has taken this long to get another chapter out. this doesn’t follow my post schedule that i had previously given, but hopefully this can be a good place holder till later this week. 

The Purest Things Masterlist

May 2008

Bookend: "It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent." -Madeleine Albright

"There's no way I'm doing that," you rebuttal, "Hotch? Tell them it's a ridiculous idea." He stays silent, but his mouth twitches slightly.

Oh, you son of a-

"Richards is a classic narcissist. The challenge of facing a tough, fearless, and intelligent woman will give him his high. Narcissists are drawn to goal-oriented women, women who are resilient, adaptable, yet decisive. Show him that you are a good listener, but don't praise him."

"Think of him like a wild animal," Spencer adds, "You don't feed zoo animals because they are unpredictable. Remember, narcissists have an extraordinary sense of self, and when you praise his ego, you enable his unstable and feeble mind. He doesn't hear praise; he hears how much better he is than you. If you don't feed the beast, he won't have the stamina to combat your confidence later."

"Once you disarm him, I'll come in and challenge his confidence," Hotch concludes. 

Could you have said that less attractively? That would have been more helpful.

Aaron cheekily smirks as if reading your mind but quickly looks away. You wish you didn't blush so fast-that you had some sense to keep your emotions to yourself. In a second, your cheeks are rosy, and you are convinced that everyone in the room can perceive your feelings as if you wrote them on little notes and passed them around.

You grunt and roll your eyes, "I hate all of you."

Derek snaps his fingers at you, "Lose the jacket."

"All men are pigs," you spit while removing your blazer, leaving you in a fitted tank top and your tight-legged jeans that hug your curves in all of the right places.

Derek wolf whistles at you, and you hurl your jacket at him.  Aaron lets his eyes slide up and down your body, his gaze lasting longer than it should. He swears that as you stride into the interrogation room, your hips swing a bit farther side to side than usual. It is the very action that radiates courage, a mind coupled perfectly with itself and the world around it, concentrated and solemn.

Typically, Hotch would divert the task of adulating a narcissist to Prentiss, but he knows if anyone can take command of someone's attention, it's you. How does he know? Because you captivate him far more often than he cares to admit, defying his very being with every interaction. You are a secret weapon that he wants to keep concealed until you can allow your talents to shine genuinely. Aaron knows that now is your moment. ++++ "What is it that I am being accused of? Fraud? Embezzling?" The sharp-dressed businessman questions; his gaze is straying further below your eyes than you care for.

Pig.

You throw a file down on the medal table, and it slides across, stopping right in front of the man, successfully redirecting his stare somewhere other than your chest.

"Try murder."

His eyes widen, "You're joking. Come on, where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready for you to yell candid camera now! I am Milton Richards, for god's sake!"

"I don't know!" You shrug your shoulders. "Why don't you explain this to me, Mr. Richards. I'm just as confused as you are. What reason could a successful, charming, handsome, wealthy business mogul like yourself possibly have to kill someone?"

"Oh please," Richards scoffs, "This isn't an interrogation. You've already pegged me as guilty."

"I don't agree, but you have the right to feel how you feel."

He purses his lips, leaning as far away from you as physically possible while handcuffed to the table.

"Milton, why did you try to escape a moving vehicle when my team apprehended you?"

"Just felt like it, I guess," he shrugs mockingly.

"So, something just randomly compelled you to flee the custody of a federal agent?"

Richards leers at you. You stand up and walk around the table, leaning down next to him, "I get it. I do. You're a suave, wealthy, and ruthless business tyrant. You have to cover your tracks-do what it takes to survive."

He raises his eyebrow, turning to face you, your faces mere inches from each other. I got you now.

"Trust me. I know probably better than anyone what it takes to maintain a position you fought your entire life for. I'm a woman; I had to claw my way into the F.B.I. Do you think it's easy being surrounded by a team filled with uncontrolled testosterone? Womanhood requires balls; I see you keep your balls in your pants, cool, cool. Mine are on my chest, up top. As you've so duly noticed."

His eyes flicker to the aforementioned area, and you restrain yourself from gagging.

"And you know what, Richards? I use them every day of my life. Because in my line of business, sometimes I have to take the backdoor to get things done. Why do I get the sense that you were the same way before you became Mr. Wolf of Wall Street? How else does a kid who grew up in the projects become a multi-millionaire mogul by 27?"

"We both know what the other is capable of. C'mon, let's show each other a bit of respect here. No games, let's be upfront with each other," you appeal. ++++ Aaron watches as you work the room like it is your stage. You play the part perfectly.  He admires your ability to absorb things and then responded rather than immediately react to douse firey circumstances rather than add to the flames.

Derek finds himself next to Aaron, smugly observing Aaron's visible fascination with you.

"She's fantastic, Hotch," Derek beams with pride. Hotch holds his breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to barricade himself from the feelings of foolish jealousy he feels creeping up.

I know she is. I think I recognize it a little too well.

Aaron knows that Derek will be scrutinizing his reaction to the commendation and refrains from responding.

Of course, Derek reads this lack of a reaction as a response itself. And he finds it strangely amusing. ++++ "Here's what I think happened," you twirl your finger around the manilla file, "I think you were having some money troubles and your top investors caught onto your little games. When you sat down, you volunteered the crimes fraud and embezzlement as reasons you assumed we brought you into custody. You listed them like they are apparent reasons for us to charge you. Those are two areas you are clearly willing to take the fall for and have cause to oblige by."

Opening the file, a photograph is revealed within of a murder victim. Richards shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stifling a cough.

"Do you know this man?"

"N-no," he claims as his eyes flutter from the photo to his hands.

Surprised by his blatant tell, you glance back at the two-way mirror.

Turning back to the suspect with a newfound spark in your eyes, you press harder, "Strike one. Try again."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in the image is Walter Barone, the C.E.O. of Jameson Whitely Associates...your accounting firm. Your company was going bankrupt, Milton. There was nowhere left for you to turn. So, do you want to try that again? This time, answer my questions directly and honestly."

"Walt had a reserve saved for me worth $5 million. Last week when I approached him about dipping into the fund to keep the company afloat, he withheld it. I wouldn't kill him for it, though."

"Well, see, that's the problem here, Milton. When he was found, that little reserve of yours was nowhere to be found. Naturally, you can assume where my mind goes when I try and put two and two together, right?"

"I told you," he says, clearly provoked by your accusation, "I wouldn't...didn't kill him."

"Wasn't it you, in your book, right? Who said, 'It's surprising what a man will do when properly motivated?' I don't know about you, but losing everything you'd ever worked for and having your one saving grace held from you seems like pretty good motivation."

Silence. "Oh, come on, Milton, now is not the time to act so arrogant!"

He slams his fists on the table; you abstain from being startled in an attempt to show him no fear.

Wild animals can smell fear. 

"Arrogant, huh? Why don't you step up and prove me wrong? Prove you're better than me. You despise me for being successful; I despise you for your assumption that you could waltz in here like a tramp and seduce me into giving myself up. What? Too harsh? I'm not sure you and I are even the same species."

Hotch bursts into the room, and you quickly signal for him to stand down. I've got this.

He gives you a prideful wink. I know you do.

Somehow Aaron being in the room gives you that last little push to conclude this grand performance of yours. Slowly, you begin clapping dramatically for his little one-person comedy act. He certainly knows how to play the fool.

"Is that a dare? Challenge accepted. Your entire life, you have suffered from a disease... a fragile ego. You have built these walls of detachment so that you can conveniently solicit status to hide your true, weak self. You lash out because you feel it compensates for your insecurities."  

"The truth is, despite being at the top of the corporate chain, every day you lead the life of a loser. You are willing to destroy people psychically, emotionally, and mentally. And you view that as a cause for celebration. You are the embodiment of a loser and abject failure."

Hotch touches the small of your back; you shiver at the sudden warmth that fills your body in reaction to it. He hands you a piece of paper, one that seals Richards' conviction.

"Milton Richards, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Barone, Hank Simmons, Frankie Lisbon, and Jillian Ryder."

Hotch motions for you to do the honors.

"By all means, lead the way."

Holding yourself proud and tall, you waltz over to Milton and hoist him out of his chair. Inclining your lips to his ear, you tell him contemptuously, "You lose."   ++++ "Way to go, superstar! You had us all on the edge of our seats," Derek says, wrapping his muscular arms around you. You breathe in his cologne and savor the sensation of being in his arms.

Since the day you met Morgan, you've felt a draw to him. Not in a romantic way, though you proudly admit he is hands-down one of the most gorgeous men to set foot on earth. He gives you the feeling of safety, warmth, and brotherly love. His hugs rejuvenate you after a long day of work, and you see to it that neither of you leaves the office without receiving your signature embraces.

Aaron observes you and Derek's shared embrace from the shelter of his office. Before he can comprehend his movements, his legs carry him to the terrace overlooking the bullpen.

What do you think you're doing, Hotch? Pull yourself together. They’re friends. Just like you and her are.

Dismissing his inner voice of reason, he calls out to you, "Y/L/N. See me in my office."

You grimace at his tone of voice but abide by his request.

Derek chuckles, "Green is not that man's color."

"What?" You turn to him, confused.

"Goodnight, superstar."

"Night, handsome," you blow him a kiss, trying to brush his comment out of your mind.  ++++ "You summoned?"

Aaron's whiskey-colored eyes meet yours. The tempo of your heart quickens like a metronome.

"You did a phenomenal job in there."

"I've learned from the best." You. I've learned from you.

He clears his throat, "Those things you said...a-about the men on this team. Is that how you truly feel?"

Shocked by his willingness to believe such a misleading statement, you gasp and close the distance between the two of you.

You must have some nerve to believe that I would ever view you as anything other than the most upstanding man I've ever met.

"Aaron, what I said in there is further than the truth than I would have liked to have strayed. In fact, it was with you that I finally felt equal as a human being-like someone recognized me for my intellect and self-worth. A woman can't acquire that regardless of how 'equal' this world claims to be."

Aaron finds himself lost in your eyes, absorbing every meaning behind your words.

"It was a freeing feeling having someone I respect so highly show me similar respect."

No. Don't stop talking. Please. Hotch blushes at his inner monologue, incapable of comprehending precisely what kind of influence you hold on him.  

"Anyway," you laugh, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, "Sorry for my little tangent."

"No," Hotch interjects firmly, "Never apologize for expressing your feelings. I assured you last year that I'll always be available as a sounding board for you. That offer still stands."

Your gaze softens as you study him, his intentions, his mannerisms. He notices your pupils dilate, and it commences a chain reaction within his veins. To him, it's not the fact that you radiate beauty on the outside. Sure, you are physically fit and put in the effort to maintain your appearance. Naturally, that would be why someone like Derek Morgan would have you on his radar.

But, Aaron has gradually grown accustomed to the kindness that you seem to reserve just for him. He sees the differences between how you act around the team versus when you step inside his office or are alone in the car with him, even the way your confidence elevates when he walks into the interrogation room.

These differences aren't unique to just you, though. Aaron notices the same changes in himself when he is around you. Never did he expect to go home from work and lie in bed thinking about the way your eyes strayed on his for a moment too long, or how as he completed paperwork at his desk, he'd replay in his mind a cheesy joke you told the team. He knows how you like your coffee from observing you in the break room one too many times.

One cream, two sugars.

Your laughter warms his body from the inside out. When you talk about your favorite comic book with Prentiss and Morgan, the twinkle in your eye never fails to bring a smile to his face. He knows that you hate getting out of the car when it rains because your perfectly straightened hair that you spent god knows how long on will undoubtedly curl.

His changes were less evident on the outside. But, he knew that deep down, there is something there that wasn't there before.

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[multi-lefaiye]

hello hey hi and happy storyteller saturday!! you mentioned a little while ago that Alekto is into art, and I was hoping you could talk a little more about that? :O what kinds of styles do they like to draw in, their favourite subject matter, why/how they got into art in the first place... just generally, what are the Alekto Art Vibes? c:

YES hello!!! Hi yes!!!! Happy Storyteller Saturday to u as well!!!! <3 I'm answering this a little late but that's okay!

And oooh yes!!!! Alekto and art!!!! I got really excited when I first saw this ask tbh, I love thinking Alekto,,,, haven't done that in a bit but dw it's fine-

I'll put my rambles under the cut in case this gets long but yeah!!! Alekto Art Vibes time!!

Okay so I think Alekto always had a bit of an interest in art since their initial creation, BUT they didn't get a chance to indulge in their interest until their first flock was destroyed/disbanded and they were appointed the leader of a new, smaller one. I think a lot about like... I don't remember where I read it, but the idea that angels are jealous of humans and their ability to create. And that's kinda part of why I think Alekto is so interested in art--guardians like them aren't a complete 1:1 parallel to angels, but they're close! And Alekto just loves that mortals have this innate drive to create! And they want to do that too!

This is something that comes up in the still unfinished Narkissos essay/analysis--Narkissos very much doesn't understand it and kinda thinks Alekto is a bit silly for it, but yeah Alekto loves to create things!!! At the beginning, they don't have much of a preference in terms of medium or style; as long as they're creating, they're having a good time.

Before their Fall, I think Alekto's favorite subject matter for art was actually other guardians and even wildlings!!! Celestial beings in general!!! Most celestial beings only rarely take physical forms, so I think Alekto would find it a fun challenge to try and interpret their friends' true forms in art. And, honestly, I see it as a way of them expressing their affection, too

And now I'm getting an idea for a sweet scene where Alekto is trying to paint Hekate's true form. Hm. Gonna file that away for later.

After Alekto Falls, they get a lot more into art partly as a way to cope with the trauma. For a guardian, unless they do so willingly, Falling is SUPER traumatic, as it essentially involves their wings being forcibly removed. Not a good time! So Alekto's dealing with a lot of unresolved trauma as a result, and that shows in their art shortly after the Fall. I think at that point they were really into painting, and their works were very abstract.

Much later after their Fall, Alekto would get more into other forms of art, such as sculpture, and branch out a bit more. Their favorite subject matter is probably still those around them and the people (or beings) they care about, but now they draw other things too!!!

I know I've mentioned it before but I do still love the idea of Hekate and Alekto sitting and like. Alekto drawing some plants while Hekate infodumps about them. That sounds like a fun time.

Actually, idk if I've talked about this, and I think it's something I might change, but I had an idea of Alekto taking a job as an art teacher at some point after their Fall?? I think they'd just love helping others learn to channel their creative energy and Make Things and it'd be a nice way for them to work through their trauma AND do something that makes them happy.

[morceid]

I Hate The Color Orange

SPENCER REID X FEM!READER

Summary: Spencer goes into work sick, and Y/N takes him home to rest.

Category: FLUFF. THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF IMAGINABLE.

Warnings: vomiting, general gross sickness, delirium, some swearing

Word Count: 2094

A/N: this is my first sickfic! i loved writing it so much! this is also my entry into @veraiconcos​ ‘s writer challenge. her fics are wonderful and you should check her out!

The first thing Spencer noticed when he woke up was how slow his brain was moving. It wasn’t like he couldn’t notice, especially considering how fast his mind usually worked. The second thing he noticed was the chills all over his skin even though he had multiple blankets covering his lanky body. 

Despite this, he pulled the covers up and got out of bed. He began to get dizzy as his brain caught up with his body. He pushed through as much as he could. He wouldn’t skip work even if he had a concussion.

As you walked into your place of work you noticed Spencer by the coffee machine. You had been pining after the young agent for quite a while now, and no one knew. Not even the beloved tech goddess Penelope Garcia, who was also your best friend. As you looked the genius upland down you noticed the discoloration in his face. He looked like he was on the verge of becoming a zombie.

You remembered an article you read about gum helping take your mind off of throwing up because your mouth was too preoccupied with another task at hand.. Your mind was wandering to what Spencer’s mouth could do…

“Hey, do you want some gum?” The words you spoke came from your vocal cords and your mind detached them from yourself. The orange package was flipped open and your hand was reaching towards Spencer.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” he was surprised by your gesture.

“Really? Are you? I read an article about how gum takes the idea of throwing up off of your mind because your mouth is already preoccupied.”

“How did you-”

“The orange might balance out the green tint on your face.” You explained.

“Oh, yeah I probably should take some.” He took a stick from the small box in your hands.

“Take it easy today, okay?” You hoped the concern in your voice wasn’t too obvious.

About an hour or two later you were working at your desk and felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N?” Spencer was behind you when you turned around, “Do you happen to have more gum?”

“Sorry, Spence, you took the last stick.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” It was not fine.

Spencer walked over to the coffee machine. His hands trembled and his eyes looked more panicked than normal as he picked up the pot of coffee. He tried pouring it and spilled it onto the counter. He put the coffee pot down and rubbed his hands over his eyes. If you were close enough, his breathing would be deep and you would see his eyes closed. He slammed his hand on the counter and ran towards the bathroom, earning a head turn from everyone in the bullpen.

“You should go check on him,” Prentiss was looking at Morgan.

“Uh uh, I do not wanna deal with a sick Reid. It’s not like he would accept care from me.” He retorted.

Before the other agents around you knew it, you were out of your seat and halfway to the gender neutral bathroom Spencer ran to.

“Spencer?” Instead of an answer you were greeted with a retching sound, “I’m coming in.”

You found Spencer hugging the porcelain toilet, which was now filled with an orange tinted vomit.

“Spencer, did you swallow the gum?”

He nodded.

“Do you need to go home?”

He moaned and nodded in response before throwing up again.

“Not yet, I guess. Are you gonna need anything to eat considering its all coming out? I can get something from Garcia’s office.”

He shook his head.

“I’ll go pack up your stuff and let Hotch know I’m taking you home.”

Normally he would begin protesting at this, but his body was shaking against the toilet and he could feel bile coming up his throat.

You walked out and told Anderson to make sure no one went into the bathroom before heading to Spencer’s desk. You picked up all the files that were laid out and evenly separated them between Emily and Morgan.

“Hey!” They exclaimed in unison.

“Sorry, guys. Spencer is sick as shit. I’m taking him home.”

“That damn pretty boy. Tell him I hope he feels better,” Morgan said, somberly taking a case file.

You hopped up the stairs two at a time going towards Hotch’s office and popped your head in.

“Hey! Spencer isn’t feeling too hot, so I’m taking him home. See you tomorrow.”

He was on the phone but he waved goodbye and mouthed to take care of him.

Next stop was Garcia’s office.

“Hey, Pen,” you said, walking in.

“Oh my god, you scared me! Anyways, what's going on?” She turned around from what looked like a horror gameplay livestream.

“Spence is sick. Like really fucked up. Do you have any ginger ale in your stash?”

She turned back to her desk and dug into her secret drawer compartment.

“Spencer should really stop working himself over. I mean, I get that all he wants is validation and praise, but c’mon, boy wonder! Your brain isn’t all that you are, you still have a human body! Gosh, he’s so pretty, but honestly- What’s that look in your eyes?” She cut off herself as she stood up from her chair.

“What? What’s what look in my eyes?”

“Oh my god, you LIKE him! Oh my god, oh my god. Give him all of the kisses in the world for me and remember to use protection-”

“Penelope Garcia!”

You tried to retaliate but she was already pushing you out of your office and telling you to “get your mans!”

You walked back to the bathroom with Spencer’s bag on one arm and yours on the other. You thanked Anderson for guarding the door and opened the door.

“Spencer I got your things, and Garcia had some ginger ale in her office if that- Spencer?”

He was passed out on the ground, clutching his stomach.

“I knew something was wrong when i stopped hearing him throw up!”

“No, Anderson, it’s not your fault. He’s probably fine, just sick. Could you help me carry him to my car? I think he took the metro today.” It would be pretty hard to carry the gangly man when you were already carrying two bags.

The journey to your car was a hassle, but that was fine. After you turned on the air conditioning Spencer woke up fairly quickly. He was confused as to why he was in your car, and you told him you were taking him home. He was too sick to be awake and too tired to care, so he fell back asleep shortly after that.

When you pulled up to his apartment he was still asleep so you gently shook him awake.

“We’re home, Spence. You need to wake up.”

“Our home?” He mumbled.

“No, silly. Your apartment.” You said, chalking it up to his sick delirium. Spencer doesn’t like you like that. Right?

He stumbled out of your car and into your arms. You held him up with your hand against his back as you walked up the stairs of his building. He leaned against a wall as you dug into his bag for the keys to his apartment.

He fell onto the couch immediately and buried his face in the pillows.

“It’s too hot! Everything is uncomfortable!” he grumbled as he started loosening his tie. He took off his button-up dress shirt to reveal a regular t-shirt he wore as an undershirt. Before he took off his pants you stopped him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Keep those on!” you said as you sat on the arm of his couch. “Drink this.” You gave him the ginger ale Penelope gave you, remembering the conversation before you left the office building.

He reluctantly turned over onto his back and took the can you left on the table.

“Thanks for the straw,” His lips puckered around the plastic tube. It made you think.

“No problem.” You pat his calf, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. “Is it too hot for me to lay next to you?”

“Nope,” He continued drinking the bubbly soda, pressing against the back of the sofa.

You laid in front of him but towards his face.

“Is it your tummy that’s bothering you?” You asked.

“It’s everything. I’ve had a headache all day and I keep getting flashes of hot and cold. I think that’s the first full sentence I’ve been able to get out all day,” He laughed

You reached your hand down to his stomach and pressed down.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

You continued to rub his stomach through his shirt. Every once in a while he let out a satisfied whimper. He asked you to put your hands under his shirt and you complied. You tried to keep the blush off of your cheeks when he asked you, but some things you just can’t help.

Spencer was asleep by the time you had realized how long you two had been sitting there. You left work at around noon and now it was four. You started to pull away from him and got up from the couch. He pulled in closer to where you were previously laying as you called Penelope.

“Hey Y/N! Since it’s been a pretty long day at work and there’s no case me and the girls are going out tonight. Wanna join?” Garcia spoke as soon as she answered your call.

“Uh, I’m not sure I'll be able to,” you whispered.

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU AT HIS APARTMENT STILL?!” Penelope yelled through the phone.

“Shh! He’s asleep on the couch.” Spencer mumbled something. 

“I think you just woke him up. Gotta go.” You hung up. “Did you say something?” You moved over to the couch and rested your head in front of where his laid.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” His eyes were still closed as he spoke.

You didn’t respond for a while and he opened his eyes, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, of course, Spencer. I just canceled with the girls.” You said. There’s no way Spencer felt the way that you had for so long.

“No, no! Its not like that! I- I- Y/N!” he groaned in frustration.

“Then what is it, Spencer?” you moved his hair away from his eyes, thinking it might help him get the words out.

Instead of words Spencer leaned forward and took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly. It took you by surprise at first but after a couple seconds you leaned into it. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted like a sweet nothing. He reluctantly pulled away from you and his eyes looked watery like he was gonna cry.

“Hey. hey, hey, Spencer. It’s okay.” you ran your hands through his soft curls, “I like you too.”

“I like you so much. I just wanna cuddle with you forever.” A single tear streamed down his face.

“Oh my god, don’t cry!” you laughed out, “I’ll cuddle with you if you really want.” You climbed back onto the couch and pressed kisses onto his forehead.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms, feeling content with the world. You were no longer hiding from your feelings and instead facing each other. Everything was finally okay. You were the only two people in the world at that exact moment, and you would be until you woke up in the morning.

Spencer woke up first. His hands were on your waist and he remembered the dizzy words he spoke to you the near-evening. His mind swam as he tried to remember your response, but he was so sick he just couldn’t. But Spencer didn’t forget, did he?

There wasn’t much Spencer could do without waking you, so he tried his best to do so gently.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s morning.” He whispered.

You woke up and jolted your eyes open. You thought of the night before and instantly calmed down. You looked into Spencer’s deep, honey-colored eyes and kissed his still soft lips. He leaned into you and kissed back.

“So I guess last night went well.” He said as he pulled back, the kiss remembering him of the memories you created in his arms.

“Very. Are you still feeling sick? I can run to the store before we get to work if you need gum.”

“No, I’m okay,” he kissed your nose, “I hate the color orange, and that's all the drugstore has in stock.”

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Back to School

Literature Professor! Robert De Niro x Reader

Based on a weird dream I had! But I've developed it into a whole thing 😘

Word count: 2k

TW: none, it's all fluff--part 2, not so much

As you walk through the literature building on campus looking for your classroom, you check your schedule one last time to make sure you end up at the right classroom.

As you're looking at the schedule you can't help but feel like you're taking a chance with this course, because the professor is listed as TBD: To Be Determined. At the time of scheduling your classes, it's normal for the professor slot to say TBD, but normally, as summer was coming to an end, you knew who all of your professors would be.

At the end of the day, the class was only an elective, and you could drop it and work out the problems later if it was that bad.

Before you know it, your feet have carried you to your classroom and you pop your head in the door to peak at what's going on inside. There are a few students, most of them sitting in the front desks, probably hoping to do well in the class by sitting up front.

You walk in and take a seat by the professors desk--taking another chance,-- but you like to try to get to know your professors, especially in a small class like this. A few more people come in and find their seats, but there's still several minutes before class starts.

Just as you were pulling books out of your bag for class, Robert De Niro walks in and asks, "Is this is the Film Lit class?" All of your books hit the floor.

One of your classmates spoke up, "Yeah, this is your class. Nice to meet ya, Professor De Niro!"

"Nice to meet you, too," he says, shaking the kid's hand.

You tap the girl in front of you on the shoulder and ask, "That's the professor?!" She laughs a little and says, "Yeah, you didn't get the message? They're letting him teach a class on the books he's studied for roles."

You felt like you were in a dream. Everyone was so casual with this, but then again, they had all gotten some kind of notification about it.

Trying to pull it together, you reach down and scramble to pick all of your books up and set them on your desk. Suddenly, you hear your professor's voice coming from beside you, "Do you need any help with that?"

You look over to see him standing at his desk, giving you a concerned look.

His desk; the one you chose to sit near.

You now have a panicky feeling of regret about the seat you chose.

"Um, no, I can get it," you shoot back to him quickly before grabbing the last books from the floor.

You could feel his eyes on you though, and you tried to pretend you didn't and focus on writing something in your notebook, but it wasn't long before you gave in and looked at him. He was sat back in his chair, just watching you for the small moment it took to get your books. He gave you a charming smile.

"Do you need something, professor?" It came out of your mouth without thinking.

"Hmm, just your name," he replied smugly. Was he flirting with you?

"(Y/N)."

"Well, (Y/N), it's nice to meet you," he stands and reaches across his desk to shake your hand, "you can call me Robert."

Before you could get your thoughts straight, he had walked up to the front of the classroom and begun class.

He started class with the simple exercise of each person telling the class their name, which book was their favorite from the summer reading, and to read their favorite passage. This took up a majority of class, because he would ask each person questions and discuss the passage with them.

He wrapped class up early by telling everyone that the first week's homework was to finish the summer reading if they hadn't, and handing out the syllabus, which was small and very simple. You take note that his office hours work pretty well with your schedule.

The class was only about 15 people, but nearly everyone wanted to talk to the professor after class; he's Robert De Niro after all. You stayed in your desk to pull out your schedule and make sure about when your next class was; you have a big break before that class.

By the time you've shoved your books in your book bag, your professor has somehow gotten out of talking to ask the other students and he makes his way over to his desk. He looks at you with a big smile and says, "Aw, were you waiting to see me?"

The last few students leave. It's just you and him.

"Oh, uh, no, I was just looking at some papers. I'm sorry." You stand up and put your back pack on.

"Oh, well, that's sad because I was hoping to see you," he starts. When he sees you're not going to respond, he continues, "It seems like you're kind of shy, and you didn't want to interact as much as the other students. Class will be highly discussion based, so I want to make sure that you'll be okay with that structure. I'd really rather not grade papers, ya know?" he ends with a small chuckle.

"I'll be okay with class discussions. Truthfully, I was just a little caught off guard because I didn't know you were the professor."

"Oh no! You didn't get the memo that went out?! That won't do. Would you mind coming to my office to make sure I have all of your contact info correct?"

"Um, sure. I have time." Truthfully, you're still kind of reeling just from his presence, and now he wants you to go to his office.

"Come on!" he says, while coming around his desk, "Oh, and give me your back pack, it looks heavy."

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. It's a long walk to my office, and I would be no gentleman if I let you carry that heavy bag all the way there."

He certainly didn't act like a professor. Especially not towards you, but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you there.

You hand over your back pack, and he puts it on, then gestures for you to leave the classroom before him. On the walk to his office, you insist on carrying his notebook, since he has your back pack. He was glad to see you open up to him a bit, and since he no longer has his notebook, this meant he was able to place his hand on your back... to make sure you walk the right way, no other reason, right? Why would he have another reason to do that?

You make light conversation all the way to his office, discussing your major and why he decided to teach a class here at the college. The walk to his office was over in no time, but maybe that was due to the good conversation. You enter the small office and see that there isn't much inside, but then again, he's only teaching for one semester. He has an L-shaped desk, a table, a couple of filing cabinets, a mini fridge, and a small couch for office guests.

He nods to the couch for you to sit, and he places your back pack by your feet. You place his notebook on his desk next to you. He opens a drawer on the filing cabinet; it's very empty except for a few manila folders. "(Y/N)! There you are!" he exclaims while whipping your file out, "There's not much in these files yet, but they'll be filled with your papers and grades by the end of the term." He gives you a warm smile before opening the file on his desk.

You go over your contact information with him; turns out he had it all wrong somehow, so he corrects the file and returns it to his cabinet.

"Well, I've run out of excuses to keep you in my company, but you're welcome to stay and hangout here if you'd like," he says as he takes one of your hands in his.

"Well, I have another class in about an hour, and I really should eat lunch, so unfortunately, I think I've got to go."

He jumps up and opens his mini fridge, "I brought PB and J's! And I have other little snacks if you want some, like fruit cups or... whatever..." He trails off and smiles awkwardly, realizing he may have gotten a little too excited.

You giggle at him, "Seems like you really want me to stick around... I'll stay as long as you don't mind sharing." You're doing your best to keep your cool, and it helps that Robert isn't keeping his very well, but you are a little nervous, nonetheless.

Without hesitation, he hands you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Do you want a fruit cup or pudding? Or both? I also have chips." His need to impress you elicits another giggle from you, and you ask for chips.

After getting his own sandwich and pulling out the chips, you enjoy lunch together. Him at his desk and you on the little couch.

This becomes your regular Tuesday/Thursday thing. After Robert's class, you go to his office for lunch; sometimes you bring food to share with him, too. Sometimes people stop in, students and other professors, because they all want to meet Robert De Niro. He's very good about meeting people and then getting them to leave without being rude.

Sometimes on Thursday's you pop back by his office after your other Tuesday/Thursday class, and technically his office hours have ended, but he has no problem with you being there. Typically you just see each other for a few minutes while he's packing up to leave campus, but one Thursday, you both sat on the little couch and talked for a while.

"Do you think I'm doing okay with this class? I mean I don't want it to be too easy, but I don't want to make it hard. It's an elective for most of you." He really did care about what he was teaching you from those biographies of boxers and mobsters.

"I think your discussions challenge us more than you think. I've never seen a class of students show up so prepared for every single lecture. Then again, I think we all know we'll never get a chance to take a class like this again."

"Yeah I know I don't have the normal professor experience, because I don't have any degrees and you guys all know who I am."

"You also get to pick favorites and don't get in trouble for it, because of who you are," you say giving him a side eye.

"Hey! Just because you're my favorite doesn't mean you get good grades..." He leans in a bit closer to you.

"Hmmm, so I am your favorite?"

"Of course, you are. You eat lunch with me in my office."

"Any other perks of being Mr. De Niro's favorite student?"

"Mmm, Mr. De Niro, huh? I thought I told you to call me Robert, young lady," he places a hand on your cheek with his thumb on your chin.

You give him a cheeky smile. "I'll call you Robert after you answer my question."

"Hmmm... Any other perks to being my favorite student? Besides hanging out with me and eating lunch with me..." His other arm snakes around your shoulders. "What about this?"

Before you can say anything, he pulls you close to him and lightly presses his lips to yours. You both stay like that for a long second before moving your lips together, kissing lightly over and over again.

[neeswords]

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Requested?: no

Word count: 2032

Authors notes: I hope you enjoy it. If you would like a personalised one please do ask :) have fun reading! I am writing imagines for anyone in the one Chicago series!

Trigger warning(s): mention of death

Summary: Y/N is a lawyer and has received an arson case. She does to arson investigation for help and meets Severide. They explore the crime scene and spend time together and later become close.

You worked at the district attorneys office. You had just been given a case against a Javi Torres for arson and murder.

"Jessica this case is next to nothing. I don't have enough to put him away for arson let alone murder." You sighed.

"Y/N Y/L/N when have you ever not accepted a challenge. You are my best prosecutor hence the hard case. You'll do me proud you always do." Jessica, your boss smiled.

You laughed.  "Can I speak with arson investigation maybe one of them can testify or give me something to look this man up. Good chances are a jury will believe the word of a fire expert."

Jessica just simply nodded.

You arrived at arson headquarters and gave the receptionist the case number. She referred you to someone called Wendy Seager. You went into the office to be met with a small short haired lady and a tall man. This man was wearing a jacket which said squad so you guessed he was a firefighter.

"Hi miss Y/L/N. Wendy Seager and this is Lieutenant Kelly Severide, fire house 51, I'm guessing you got the pleasure of locking Mr Torres up. How can we help you?" Seager said kindly.

You chuckled. "Nice to meet you. And I was wondering if I could use your expertise here. I believe that you are the ones who declared this case arson? I will 100% stand for your case but from all the information I have been given,  I don't have anything that places Mr Torres at the scene. What make you think it was him?" You sternly said.

This 'Kelly Severide' then stepped in.

"I responded to the call. The fire was out of control before we even got to the house. My squad, squad 3 were first on scene and we saw this black car parked across the street we had just predicted he was the one who called in the fire. One of my men approached him to ask if he knew what caused it and the bastard just drove off. This man being Torres. We prayed no one would be in that house because to any fire fighter it was obvious this wasn't going to be a rescue, it would be a recovery. Engine 51 put out the fire and we then went in. And do you know what we found? 4 bodies. 2 of them were children. This man sat in his car knowing that these kids and their parents were being burnt alive. Tell me that's not enough to lock him up."

You sighed. "Look I'm sorry that you had to go though that, it sounds really tough. And my heart goes out to that poor family. However from what your telling me this man was just sat in his car. It's not a crime to not go into a burning building. I'm sorry Lieutenant but my hands are tied here." You said apologetically. 

And with that Severide was about to leave. Before he opened the door he turned around and said

"I know he did it. I just know." And slammed the door on his way out, clearly annoyed.

Something in you believed him. You wanted to fight this case for him but you just didn't have the proof to do so. You went back to the office and went over the entire case file. You could prove that this case was arson, the cans of gasoline prove it but you just couldn't prove it was Mr Torres.

"Y/N what are you still doing here it's late?" Jessica suddenly came into your office.

"There's something off about this case. Do you think I could visit the scene?" You asked timidly.

"It late Y/L/N—"

"I'll be an hour at the most" You interrupted her.

"Fine go. But don't go alone." Jessica sighed

You probably should have gone to arson investigation and asked for someone to go with you but instead you ended up at Fire house 51.

You walked in and was greeted by a tall blonde man in a white shirt. " Hi I'm Captain Casey how can I help you?"

You didn't really know what to say, you'd just turned up at a fire house unexpectedly. "Hi I'm Y/N Y/L/N" you shook his hand  "I work for the district attorneys office. Erm is Lieutenant Severide around?"

Casey replied "right this way" He led you into Severides office. "Thank you Captain" you smiled. He responded with an "anytime" and then left. As soon as Severide saw you he immediately stood up. "Have you got something?" He asked straight up.

"No, I haven't but I was wondering if you wanted to come to the scene with me. Maybe there's something that's been missed or maybe someone saw something? I mean it's a long shot but it's worth a try right?" You said. Without an answer he grabbed his radio and said "ill go inform my chief".

His Chief agreed and you and Severide made your way to the burnt house. You took your car. The car ride was relatively silent. You decided to speak up. "You know I believe you right." You didn't look up from the road. Severide didn't say anything. You awkwardly sat there.

After a while, you arrived at the house, well if you can even call it that anymore. You went to the door which was covered in a board. "Erm maybe we should call CPD for assis—" Severide interrupted you by kicking it down. "Never mind" you mumbled. You swallowed hard it was so dark it was a somewhat scary setting. You had no idea what you were looking for you just needed something that placed Torres at this scene. Severide wondered off ,so you decided to look around the front of the house. Most of it was ash. There was this family photo. The kids were so little you could see why severide was so touched.

"Hey erm law lady I think I might have something" Severide shouted from upstairs. You giggled and rolled your eyes and the name he called you.

He was pointing out the window. " you see that?" You nodded. "A street camera. How did CPD not pick up on that?"

He shrugged and called on his radio. " Lieutenant severide to squad 3. Request for squad to my location."

"Law lady?" You asked with a little laugh.

He turned around and smiled. "Yeah sorry about that I've been so stressed with this case that I didn't really pick up on your name." You just laughed

Within about 5 minutes squad turned up. "Cruz get me a ladder." Severide instructed his men. "Coming right up boss" was this mans response. Severide got the camera down within a couple of minutes. "Let's head back to the station and see what we can pull of this." He said whilst holding the camera up.

Once you were back at the station you and Severide sat at the squad table trying to find the footage you were praying for.

An hour had passed and the camera went black. Severide put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Hey we'll find something" you said whilst placing a hand on his. He gave you a comforting smile back.

It has got the the time frame of 10 minutes before the fire and the camera had come back on. You looked at severide to find that he was already looking at you. "This has to be it right?" He asked. You just looked at the screen. This black figure was entering the house through a side gate. We couldn't quite get a face out of it though. Severide was getting frustrated. "Turn you son of a bitch let's see your face" The man on the video had gotten into the house. When he suddenly came running back out. Due to the angle of the camera we couldn't see where abouts he went. He still made sure to cover his face. He went running back in with the gasoline cans. He took them into the house and then ran out. Except this time we got a glimpse of his face. Severide managed to pause it on his face. "That's him. Try telling me that's not him." He said. You sighed again "it's too blurry to be certain but I have a tech person at my firm ,let me see what he can do."

"Thank you" Severide smiled at you.

"Anytime" you said whilst grabbing your stuff. Just as you were leaving you turned around to him and said "Y/N Y/L/N" Severide looked at you confused. You laughed. "My name. My name is Y/N."

He smiled again "right"

Time skip to after the case.

You won the case. Olly the tech guy managed to get a clearer image. He even ran the face though facial recognition and guess who came up? Javi Torres. You hadn't seen severide since the night you got the camera. So you decided to go and tell him the good news in person.

You arrived at fire house 51 and saw Severide sat at his squad table. You walked up to him and just smiled hoping he would get why. "You won?!" He enthusiastically said. "No we won!" You answered. He smiled and stood up. "I never had a doubt" he softly spoke. You didn't know what to say so you sheepishly smiled. Out of nowhere he hugged you and softly whispered in your ear "thank you" you hugged back and responded "of course" you pulled back softly and Severide then pulled your hand "hey come on. Come meet the rest of us". You shook your head. " I can't I have to be back at the office, I'm on a tight schedule. Being a lawyer is never ending." You said. He nodded. "Well at least let me take you for a drink then?" You smiled. "I'd like that." You gave him your number and you went your separate ways

Later that night Severide text you asking to meet at this bar called mollys. It was apparently owned by one of the firefighters he worked with.

Once you arrived you saw severide sat with the captain whom you had previously met. You walked over. As soon as severide saw you he stood up and greeted you with a hug. You obviously hugged back. "Hey nice to see you again. I'll give you two some space" Casey said. Severide mouthed a 'thank you' to him and then devoted his attention back onto you.

"You look beautiful" he said which made you blush. You looked down. " thank you" you mumbled.

"Can I get you a drink?" He politely asked

"Erm sure a beers fine." You shyly responded.

Throughout the night severide introduced you to most of  firehouse 51. They were all so welcoming and kind. Your personal favourite was Herrman you really liked his attitude. It was getting late and you had work in the morning so you decided it was probably your time to go.

You turned to Severide. " I've had an amazing time tonight but I have work early tomorrow so imma head home." You said softly. 

"Right erm yeah. Let me walk you out." He smiled

You'd just left the door of mollys when severide pulls you into him. His face was so close to yours. You could feel his hot breath against your face. It took everything in you to not just grab his face and kiss him. "I enjoyed spending time with you" he whispered. You couldn't form any words. You were so weakened. You couldn't stand it much longer so you went to pull back when he grabbed your face. His lips met yours. It was kind of rough yet passionate. It was clear that we were both craving each other. After a couple of minutes we both pulled back. "Wow" was all you could say. He laughed.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked. Your smirked and whispered "Or, we could go back to my place, it's not too far from here." And that's where you went.

[elliot-orion]

I'll send more later, but to start, how about "I fucked up"? That's appropriate for these three lol

oh ho HO i love this. BUT i’m challenging myself to not have it be Sparky who fucked up. He gets all the attention for being the chaotic bastard child but let's be real here, Hall and Scout are equally chaotic bastards. they just have a filter and are better at turning it off. 

On the list of things I was expecting today, getting a call from Hall saying he’s been arrested, and by the human police for that matter, wasn’t on it. 

“You know, I feel like our roles are normally flipped here.” I’m trying not to laugh, really, i am, but it’s not working out particularly well. Scout gives me a very confused look when i gesture him over, but when I sign to him that Hall’s in prison, he also starts laughing. Glad to know we are on the same page here. 

“Yes, yes, I know. Can you come get me?”

“I mean obviously we will. What did you even do? You’re our brain cell, you’re not supposed to be the one getting arrested you know.” 

“I fucked up, okay? Can we just leave it at that for now? The power dampening field in here is giving me a rash.” Oh right, PDFs actually affect other Elementals. Forgot about that. I mean, the collar ones affect me, but the weaker, bigger ones don’t. Namely, because I just turn them off. They aren’t strong enough to fully shut off my powers like the collars, and considering they run off electricity... well, you can do that math. But any would be painful for any of the other Elementals if they were, you know, pretending to not be an Elemental and not busting out like Hall definitely could but wasn’t for whatever reason. Probably should go get him quickly then. Ugh, this is totally going to fuck up my cake, i just put it in... 

“Yea, yea, we’re on our way. Give us a few minutes.” I hang up, and Scout and I get ready to go. The human police station is about a fifteen-minute walk, which is much longer than I’d like it to be, but I can’t drive, and Scout can’t either, so walking it is. Luckily once we’re there it’s pretty easy for me to get him out, considering I have a lot of experience with the whole process and, you know, wiping their records. I do love fucking with police records. All this digitizing files shit that everyone’s been doing is truly a double-edged sword. Maybe i could make people pay me to make them actually good firewalls. Yea, that’d be fun. 

Scout tugs on my sleeve once they bring out Hall, who is... completely covered in plastic cheese. 

“Don’t you fucking ask.” He glares at both me and Scout. We immediately burst into laughter. I just... he’s covered in neon cheese okay! What the fuck else do you expect us to do? Even the cops are trying not to laugh! It’s so fucking funny...

He is never living this down. Never. 

-

Hehehe. Hall has a habit of getting into bar fights when he’s pissed and needs to cool off. or just fights in general, and with the excess of nachos at most sports bars i’m just imagining someone grabbing the cheese and chucking it at him and it’s very funny. I almost had this happen in the book when he gets into a fight but like, it didn’t work out. So thanks for this neon orange opportunity ;)