#and i miss her i know shes in canada i know shes still in school but thats really all inknow

[bqstqnbruin]

Friendsgiving

Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are

Warnings: none

WC: 5845

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Why and how are you in Vancouver?” 

“Don’t hate me.”

“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.” 

“And you’re doing it without me?”

“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”

“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”

You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.

You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving. 

You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning. 

Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other. 

All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.

You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.

But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates. 

It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.

It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life. 

You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you. 

You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason. 

You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person. 

He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately. 

“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.” 

Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“We’re on our way to the game.”

“We?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”

Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”

“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”

“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”

You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.” 

“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”

“Would that make you late for the game?”

He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.” 

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.” 

The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to. 

He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.

“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.  

“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.

“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks. 

“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car. 

You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.

He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice. 

“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.

“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”

“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.” 

“I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.” 

“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was. 

“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.” 

Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know. 

You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them? 

No thank you.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”

“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.

“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”

You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”

“Are you in the WAG room?”

“The what?”

“The WAG room.”

“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”

“The wives and girlfriends.”

You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”

“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.” 

You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”

“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call. 

You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.

“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice. 

“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level. 

You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.” 

“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”

You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that. 

You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”

Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”

“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”

“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.

“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”

The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week. 

But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.

You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles. 

You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.

They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink. 

You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.

“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway 

“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”

“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’

“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.

“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.” 

You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.

“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly. 

“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We went to college together.” 

Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them. 

You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.

You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway. 

“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him. 

“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car. 

“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.” 

Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.” 

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”

“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.” 

“Well, their wives didn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”

He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”

“We have a day and a half.” 

You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”

“So, we fake date?”

“We fake date.” 

_____________________________

“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it. 

“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now. 

“What’s the other option?”

He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.” 

“How good are you at making breakfast?”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.” 

“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.” 

“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.

Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before? 

You call Lena while you were getting ready. 

“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.

“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.” 

“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”

“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”

“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”

“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”

She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.

“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you. 

“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.

You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit. 

“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’

“What?”

“Don’t couples do that?’

You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”

“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.

“So, where are we going?”

Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door. 

_____________________________

The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place. 

“How are you with hiking?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“How long the trail is.”

Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front. 

“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.” 

“That seems like a long time.”

“That’s how long my games are.”

“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car. 

The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together. 

You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”

Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his. 

“I have no idea, actually.” 

“So you’re off to a great start.”

“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”

“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”

“It has to be homemade?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”

“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”

He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.

You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?” 

Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”

“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out. 

“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view. 

_____________________________

“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”

“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”

Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.

“This is nice,” he tells you. 

You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”

“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.” 

“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you. 

“Always.”

You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”

Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.

_____________________________

“This is all fake.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t feel fake.” 

“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”

“Lena,” you whine. 

“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.” 

You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?

“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”

“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.” 

“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”

You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”

“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”

“And that’s fiction, not real life.”

“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?” 

“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?” 

“So, what do you do about it?”

“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.” 

_____________________________

“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”

He smiles at you. “Me neither.” 

You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people. 

Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.

“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer. 

“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.

You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today. 

“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine. 

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged. 

“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.” 

You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there. 

“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Brock responds.

“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first. 

“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.

“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.

You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?

“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.

“Only about two months, I think.” 

“You think?”

“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.” 

You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you. 

He was faking it. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head. 

“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.

“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you. 

“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.” 

Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”

“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.

“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others. 

“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.” 

_____________________________

The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time. 

You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport. 

He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park. 

“Can I admit something?” he asks. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I want you to leave.” 

You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“But,” he starts.

“I have to.” 

Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk. 

“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag. 

You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.

Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him. 

“No.” 

[aropride]

my childhood best friend is active on instagram again she doesnt post but sometimes she likes my stories and i see her in the comments of posts and its actually ruining my life because i want to talk to her again i want to be friends but its been so long i have no idea how to explain. where i went. i guess

[quintinh43]

Fucking Canada | Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is out with an injury, Y/n is on break from school. Obviously, the only logical thing is for them to head down to Vancouver to visit Quinn.

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Meantions of Anxiety, Drinking (drink responsibly kids), Some light suggestive content. Use of the name Mariana. Let me know if I missed anything!

Wc: 4.9k

This one's for @toasttt11, stay awesome 🫶🏼

---

Luke had been been out with an injury for a week. And it was driving him insane. He had begged and begged the trainers to at least allow him on the ice with the team. He'd batted his long eyelashes and given them puppy dog eyes and the famous Hughes pout, yet somehow they resisted and firmly told him he was not to touch a pair of skates until after his two-week check up.

And that was only if his check-up came back all ok. So in his boredom, he flew down to Michigan to spend time with you, and then decided that as soon as your break started he was flying both of you down to Vancouver for the week, because fuck he missed his big brother.

He rolled his wrist around in its brace, and you smack him in the chest. "Stop doing that. You're gonna aggravate your wrist and make it worse."

"Baby, I swear its fine," he whined, "The trainers don't know what they're talking about."

You snort, and grab his arm, pinning it beneath your torso, being careful to ensure that the strained part of his wrist was not under you.

"Baby, please," he whined, tugging his arm gently. "Let me up,"

"Only if you promise to stop rolling your wrist." You glare.

"I promise" Luke mumbles shifting towards you to run his lips along your jaw. Your stomach flutters, pink dusts across your cheeks, and you let him go immediately. He leans on his elbows and kisses down your neck.

"Luke" you whisper breathlessly.

"Hmm" he hums, nipping at the sensitive skin along the column of your troat.

You bite your lip, debating telling him off. But kissing Luke is much much better than studying physiology, and you haven't had a break in a while. You slam your textbook shut, and all but kick it off the bed.

"You're such a menace," you huff, he wraps his uninjured arm around you, and drags himself fully on top of you, kissing gently down your neck.

"You know you love me," he grins.

"You're lucky I do, Hughes. Now get back to kissing me,"

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, lips dancing along your collarbones.

There's a knock on your door and before you can tell whoever it is to fuck off, your roommate and best university friend; Mariana barges in.

"Enough sexy time, kids!" she says, ignoring the murderous glares both you and Luke throw her way, "If you still want a ride to the airport, we are leaving in ten." She walks out, leaving the door open. You sigh, nudging Luke with your shoulder, to get off of you. He pecks one last kiss to your cheek and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet so the two of you can get all your things together.

You slide your laptop into your bag, grab all your chargers, and make sure you have an extra set of headphones. Because God knows the worst thing that could possibly happen is being stuck on an airplane with no muisc. After double and triple checking that you have everything, Mariana ushers you out the door hurriedly.

The ride to the airport is nothing special. You and Mariana sit in the front while Luke is banished to the back. You stretch an arm back to hold his hand, and he leans his head on your seat to be closer to you.

"Have fun in Vancouver Babe," Mariana says giving you a tight parting hug, and kiss on the cheek.

"Better take care of my girl Hughes, or I'm coming for that other wrist" She threatens, giving Luke a hug. Luke laughs, patting Mariana's back.

"You know it, Mari," he grins, winking at you.

"Text me when you land, ok?" She says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I will. Thanks for the ride, Mar." You hive her one last squeeze goodbye and take Luke's hand as you head through the airport.

Everything goes smoothly, thank God, and soon you and Luke are boarded the plane. It's a fight over who takes the window seat. You think Luke should have it cause he has longer legs, and Luke thinks you should have it because you deserve the best seat.

After convincing Luke that as long as you're sitting beside him, you do have the best seat, he reluctantly takes the window seat. And makes sure to tell you that if you want to switch at any time, just tell him.

You nod, knowing that you absolutely won't be doing that, but what Luke doesn't know won't hurt him.  You're set to arrive just before Quinn's game tonight, which means that the two of you won't get to see him until later. After going through your mental checklist, making sure everything is organized, you stick your headphones in and rest your head on Luke's shoulder and promptly pass out.

Luke is shaking you awake gently when it's time to get off the plane. "Wake up, Baby, it's time to get going," he says softly.

You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, "Alright lets go,"

You grab all of yours and Lukes belongings from the overhead compartment, much to his dismay. "Baby, let me help,"

"Luke Warren, I swear if you touch any of this luggage with that wrist, I'll chop it off," you say sternly. You hand him his backpack, and he slings it over his shoulder with a pout.

You grab his injured hand gently, lacing your fingers together as best as you can with his brace on, and head off the plane. As you step into the Uber, both your phones buzz with a text from Quinn.

Q: I left a key for you guys with the front desk, Luke just has to show some ID.

Q: You guys are coming to the game right?

Luke: Yep, excited to see you Q

You: Were just heading to your place now, to get settled and then we're on our way. See you soon!

Q: Excited to see you guys too.

You arrive at his apartment, and Luke shows his ID to the front desk, and they hand over the key. Quinn's apartment is nice, but it's so clean. It looks like a place out of a modern decor magazine, except for the photos of his family scattered here and there.

There's a two jerseys folded neatly on the bed with a sticky note that says 'Don't be a little bitch' on top. "Nope" Luke says as he immediately lays eyes on it, "I'm not wearing that, nither are you."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't argue. It makes sense that he wouldn't wear it. Players have a thing about not wearing another franchises merchandise. He unzips his suitcase and pulls out two black hoodies with white stitching that says Hughes 43 on the back. Except if you look carefully, the devils logo is stitched on the sleeve.

You shake your head with a smile and take the hoodie from him. "Let me just change into something better, and we'll head out."

Luke nods, digging around for a pair of jeans for himself.  The two of you make quick work of changing, and then you're on your way to the game. Quinn, smartly left the tickets under your name, lest someone spill the beans that Luke Hughes is in Vancouver to watch his brother play.

Your seats are right by the glass. When Quinn notices you, he skates over, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Bitches" he mouths with a smile, as he takes in the lack of Canuck blue in your outfits.

You grin and flash him a heart with your fingers while Luke flips him off, making sure he can see the devils logo on the sleeve. Quinn shakes his head at Luke and skates off to finish warm-ups.

Thankfully, no one really takes note of the interaction. Luke has a cap pulled low, so unless someone is really looking for Luke Hughes, then he shouldn't be recognized. The atmosphere is electric. Canadian hockey really hits differently.

The game is nerve-wracking, and for most of it, you and Luke are on the edges of your seats, grabbing at eachother hands, and slapping eachothers knees in excitement whenever something particular exciting happens. And when Quinn picks up a goal, the two of you are jumping and screaming.

The game ends with a canuck win, and as you two make your way down to the locker room to greet Quinn, you're chattering excitedly about all the good plays that were made. Especially Quinn's. He picked up a goal and three assists, making him the top point scorer of the game.

As he walks out of the locker room, he can't keep the smile off his face as he lands eyes on you and Luke. As much as he doesn't mind being on his own, seeing his family is always the best. You've been around the Hughes boys since you were growing up. From Toronto to Michigan. Your family's were really close and still are to this day.

He pulls you into a hug first, "Good to see you Y/n" he says, patting you on the back.

He goes to hug Luke, and in true brotherly fashion, he can't help but make a jab at him as does so. "I swear to God, you get taller every time I see you." Rather than standing on his tip toes to throw his arms around Lukes neck, he hooks his ankle around the back of Luke's knee and Luke's knees buckle.

Quinn catches him in a hug before he can hit the floor. You and Quinn are laughing, while Luke grumbles. He snatches Quinns hat off his head, making his hair stick up in every which way and holds it as high as he can. Quinn rolls his eyes, not taking the bait, and starts to walk.

Luke huffs and throws his hat back at him. "How did y'all get here?"

"Uber," you say, throwing an arm around Luke's waist as you walk. He drapes his arm around your shoulder, fingers brushing patters against your shoulder.

"The team is going out to celebrate. Do you guys wanna join, or do you want a ride home first?"

"Well, come with," Luke smiles, "Good game, dude, you made some nasty moves."

Pink dusts Quinn's cheeks, and he changes the conversation. "How's the wrist?"

Luke rolls his eyes, and before he can roll his wrist, you glare at him. "It's completely fucking fine."

"It's not" you say

"The trainers don't know what they are talking about." He mutters.

"They do" You add poking luke in the side.

Quinn scoffs, "Yes, im sure the people whose literal job it is to treat your injures don't know what they are talking about."

Luke pouts, "I can't believe my girl and my brother are ganging up on me like this,"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so stubborn." You and Quinn say simultaneously, looking at each other with a grin.

Luke grumbles unintelligiblly and Quinn throws his bags in this trunk. Luke takes the front seat, and this time, he's the one reaching his arm back to hold your hand. You smile, lacing your fingers together. Quinn rolls the eyes at the two of you with a smile.

The drive to the bar is filled with the light chatter of the three of you catching up about life. Unsurprisingly, Quinn has nothing interesting happening in his love life. The man eats, breathes, sleeps, and lives hockey. Luke teases him about becoming an old spinster while he glances at you lovingly. No doubt envisioning the magnificence that your lives will be together.

The bar is absolutely packed. Not surprisingly. It's a Friday night and the Canucks won. Some of the team is already there, in a roped off Vip area. They wave Quin over urgently. He grabs your hand and you grab Luke's so as not to get separated in the crowd of drunk people.

Quinn greets his teammates with hugs and back slaps and inside jokes. Some of them grin at you and Luke, wiggling their eyebrows at you and dragging Luke into hugs.

"So why are Mr. And Mrs. Huggy Jr. Here?" Brock asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Luke smiles at that, tracing his finger over the back of your left ring finger. "Luke is out injured, and I'm on a break from school," you shrug, playing with Luke's hand in yours.

"I'm going to get a refill," Luke hums, kissing the tip of your ear as he detangles himself from you, "want anything?"

"I'm good for now, baby," you say, kissing him on the cheek. When you turn back to the guys, they are all leaning close to you, batting their eyelashes like a group of High-school girls waiting to hear the latest drama about your crush.

Petey is the first to speak, "So when is he proposing?"

Millsy slaps him in the back of the head, "How is she supposed to know when he's proposing dumbass?"

"That man is so fucking whipped for you," Brock smirks, and you can't help the blush that colours your cheeks.

"You guys will have some cute babiess," Garland grins, just the slightest bit tipsy.

"Alright, alright, leave her alone. That's my sister-in-law you're bullying" Quinn says, coming to your rescue. He throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You ok?" He asks quietly, the guys already forgetting the previous topic of conversation.

"Yeah, thanks Quinn," you smile, squeezing his hand back.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat, so I'm gonna go home. Do y'all wanna stay, or are you ready to head home?"

"We'll stay I think, me and Lukey are having fun, and I have yet to drag him to the dance floor. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Yeah, I haven't been drinking," Quinn says, smiling softly at your concern for him. "Sorry to leave y'all hanging."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn, we'll see you tomorrow. You played a good game, go get lots of rest," you smile, wrapping him in a quick hug.

He hugs you back and turns to address the guys. "I'm heading out if anyone wants a ride," Before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, Petey is practically throwing himself at Quinn. He stumbles into the two of you, and you both reach out to make sure he doesn't eat the floor. "I drank too much," he mumbles.

You laugh, patting his back, as Quinn stabilizes him. "I'm making you do bag skates next practice," Quinn says with entirely too much joy, as he practically half carries Petey out of the bar.

With Quinn gone, you dip out of the Vip section to find Luke, you spot him sitting at the bar, cheeks flushed, empty shot glasses littered suspiciously close to him. He's holding another glass that looks like soda, and there's a girl leaning much to close to him. He's leaning back slowly, looking very unimpressed.

Until he spots you. His megawatt lady killer smile appears as he all but pushes the other girl out of the way, and practically sprints to you, as well as someone can sprint in a crowded bar. Your hands rest on his arms, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Luke, are you ok?" You ask concerned, eyes flitting across his face, "have you been drinking?"

"Y/n!" He is way too giddy to be sober, "I know we said, we weren't drinking, but then I was sad about my wrist and someone said that the alcohol would make me feel better, so drank a little teeny tiny shot, and then another one cause somone got me another one, and then this group of girls asked me if I wanted to do shots with them, and I was gonna say no, but then they already ordered the shots and then-"

You cut off his drunk rambling, your voice laced with concern. "Luke baby, do you remember how many shots you took?" You ask, the calmness of your voice not giving way to the absolutely disastrous thoughts swimming in your head.

"Four, I think!" He grins, trying to count the glasses that were littered on the bar top in front of where he was sitting. There were five. Your eyes widen almost comically. He was barely gone for half an hour. He took five shots of straight alcohol in less than half an hour. Fuck.

Now it wasn't as if Luke hadn't drank before, undoubtedly he had. But definitely not that amount of alcohol in that span of time. Plus, it wasnt really recommended for professional athletes to drink anyways, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed since the beginning of the season probably didn't even equate the amount that he'd drank tonight alone. Double Fuck.

And on top of all of that, Quinn had already left. "My wrist feels so much better!" Luke says happily, "I can take off my brace!" As he reaches for straps on his brace, you grab his hand.

"Absolutely not Luke." You lace your fingers with his to keep him from taking off his brace while you try to figure out what to do. Before you know what's happening, there's another full shot glass in front of you, and Luke is knocking it back. Triple Fuck.

"It burns," he pouts, shaking his head like he just ate something sour.

"Luke, how did you even get alcohol? we're underage!" The disbelief is evident in your voice.

The bartender hears your statement and decides that he'd better clear up that misconception before he gets into some kond of trouble. "No ma'am," he says, leaning over the counter. "I checked his ID, says he's twenty, that's legal"

Suddenly, you are very pissed that the bartender is telling you how old your own boyfriend is. Just as you're about to snap at him for clearly not being able to to his job correctly, if he thinks twenty is legal, you remember that you're no longer in the States.

You're in Canada. Fucking Canada. Racking your brain, you try to recall the legal age in British Columbia. You feel so stupid. It's nineteen. Ninteen year olds are legally allowed to drink in B.C. Luke is twenty. Fuck fuck fucking fuckitty fuck.

Before you sprial into a full-on panic, you take a deep breath. Luke is drunk out of his mind, and he needs to get home now, and you panicking will not help the situation. You slap your card down on the bar top and tell the bartender to close Luke's tab.

You don't trust Luke to be left to his own devices, so you sling his arm around your shoulder and half drag him to where you left your phone and purse with Brock. You gently guide Luke to sit on one of the chairs. He does so shakily and wraps one arm around your chest, pulling you flush against his body.

His knees are squeezing your hips, his fingers are tracing over your collarbones, and his face is tucked against your neck.

"Woah! is Huggy Jr. drunk?" Brock asks, grinning madly as he hands you your phone and purse.

"In the span of time that he disappeared, he took six fucking shots" you grumble, as you order an Uber to get home.

Brock almsot chokes on his drink. He stares wide eyes, "oh so he's fucking blackout," he takes his phone and snaps a photo of you and Luke. The glare that you send him is so murderous that if looks could kill he'd be six feet under.

"Sorry," he shrugs with a shit eating grin that says he's not sorry at all, "I need some proof of this for when he wakes up hating his life tomorrow."

"Alright, well, at least send it to me." You grumble, Brock laughs, and your phone buzzes with a notification from him immediately after. "And hey, please don't tell Quinn anything right now. He's probably home and in bed by now, and I don't wanna stress him out unnecessarily."

Brock nods, "Don't worry, kid, my lips are sealed." He sighs like an older brother, "if I was sober, i'd be driving you home."

"Oh Brock, don't worry about it. You guys had great games, and you deserve to celebrate. We'll be fine, I promise," you smile. Your heart melts a little, you've only met the canucks a few times but from the instant that you did they treated you like family.

"Alright, alright, just let me know when you're home safe, I'll feel much better."

"You got it, Brocky," you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Brock grins like a school boy who just got a kiss from his crush. Thankfully, drunk Luke doesn't decide to make an appearance. Otherwise, he might have absolutely decked Brock in the face.

Not that he would've succeeded, based on how drunk he is. You're almost sure he's fallen asleep. Until his lips start moving against your neck. Quadruple fuck. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud as he nips at your throat with so much care you'd think he was fully sober.

His fingers start to make patterns along your collarbones, dipping lower toward the curve of your breasts. You don't want him to stop.

"Luke," you whisper desperately, laying your head atop his gently.

His hum of response reverberates against your skin, and pleasure melts down your spine, stomach fluttering.

"Luke," you try again, voice strained as his teeth screen against the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, "not here baby, we're in public."

" 's go home" he murmers into your skin, "wanna fuck my pretty girl."

Your cheeks go red faster than you thought possible. What a time to find out Luke is a horny drunk.

"Luke," his name is a prayer on your lips. The fingers of his injured hand burn as they press into your waist.

" 'm starvin for you baby," he mumbles, the tips of his fingers brushing under the waistband of your jeans.

Heat coils in your stomach, and you bite your lip to keep a whimper from spilling from your lips. As if some Devine power is on your side, you get a notification that your Uber has arrived.

"Our ride is here." Your voice is practically a squeak.

"Want you to ride me." Luke says, and you can feel his lips turn up into a smirk against your skin. You have to cover your mouth with your hand. Luke chuckles darkly. "Pretty girl has to cover her mouth so everyone doesn't know what a dirty girl she is." he hums nosing at your neck. If you're here any longer, you might actually combust. You make sure you have everything because you can quite literally never return to this bar every again.

You help pull Luke out of his chair and drape one of his arms over your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Gonna eat you up when we're alone," he mutters, his grin all teeth. He's so fucking beautiful it makes your troat go dry.

You're blushing like a school girl as you help him out of the bar. He's leaning most of his weight on you while he whispers dirty things in your ear. You're surprised that you even manage to get him out of the bar on your own, mainly because his comments are making you weak in the knees. And partially because he's a 6'2, 185-pound man.

You successfully get him into the backseat and give the driver Quinns address. Thank God he lives close. A ten minute drive at most. But unfortunately for you, it feels like hours.  Because Luke had been very perceptive as to how his advances were making you react and continues them with no mercy.

"So pretty f' me" he mumbles, hand trailing up your thigh, lips fluttering over your neck, "gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?"

"Not here, Luke," You whisper, grabbing his hand. You kiss the back of his knuckles and looks at you with such desire in his eyes it takes every ounce of self control not strip and let him fuck you in the back seat of this random car. Your eyes flick to the driver and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and say a prayer for forgiveness as your lips trail up his hand.

You close your lips over two of his fingers, and he groans, his head falling against your shoulder. "Gotta be quiet, baby," you murmer, squeezing his knee with one hand before closing your lips back over his fingers.

"m' quiet, m' quiet," he murmers against your neck. Then he's grinding his hips against yours, and there's a whimper caught in your throat. The car comes to a stop in front of Quinns building, and you are hopping out of the car like it's on fire and dragging Luke out behind you.

He stumbles into your back, an arm wrapping around your waist, his lips reattach to your neck, and you can't help the moan that slips out. As soon as the elevator door shuts, Luke pins you to the wall with a knee between your legs, and you drag him down for a desperate kiss.

He tastes like alcohol and cinnamon and home. And you never want to let him go. Then he's hissing with fire, a yearning, pleading fire as he grinds his hips against yours. All you want to do is let him have his way, but he's so so drunk. And no matter how many years the two of you have been dating, and how many times you've slept together, you made your decision way back at the bar that you wouldn't go further than kissing and grinding.

The elevator opens on Quinns floor, and the two of you stumble out. You pat your pockets for the keys to his apartment, and fuck- they aren't there. They must have gotten left in his car on the way to the bar.

You knock on the door nervously. One hand wrapped around Luke's waist, and the other braced against his chest. His uninjured hand is tracing up and down your side and in a way that makes it hard not to squirm as he places tender kisses along your jaw.

Quinn opens the door, looking oh so tired, a toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. Clearly, he didn't expect you back so soon. His eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, and he resists the urge to gag, lest his toothbrush fall out of his mouth.

"Whad da fack!" He exclaims, spitting into the kitchen sink and closing the apartment door behind you. "Is he drunk?"

"Yes, just let me get him into bed, and I'll explain," you say urgently.

"Only going to bed if you're coming with me," he murmers, squeezing your hip, "need m' pretty girl."

"Do you have advil?" You ask Quinn, ignoring Luke's statement, Quinn wisely chooses not to comment as he grabs advil and a glass of water.

You deposit luke on the bed, huffing from his weight. He pulls you down with a smirk. "Wait, baby, let me get your clothes," you say quickly.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows and lets you undress him. You strip him of his jeans and t-shirt leaving him in his boxers. "Be good and drink this for me," you say, sliding the advil into his mouth.

"I'm good for you, baby," he mutters after he swallows.

"So good for me," you assured as he slipped under the blanket. As soon as his head hits the pillow, his eyes are fluttering. " 'm tir'd."

You stroke his hair back from his forehead softly. "I know, baby, I know,"

"Still want you," he pouted.

"I know, baby, and you'll have me tomorrow. It's sleep time now, ok?"

"Mm'kay," he mumbles, barely audible. You stroke his hair and mutter sweet nothings to him as he falls asleep. You change into a pair of sweats and one of Luke's devils' hoodies before shutting the bedroom door with a quiet click.

Quinn is sitting on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea. You flop onto the couch, leaning your back against the armrest and tucking your feet under his legs. He hands you a mug of tea, and you take it gratefully, holding it close to your face and letting the steam warm you.

"So what the fuck happened?" Quinn questions.

"After you left, Luke still wasn't back and I went to find him, I don't know what really happened on his end, but he said he was sad about his wrist, and someone convinced him alchool would make it better." You sigh, taking a sip of your tea.

"Anyways, by the time I got him, he had had six shots in the span of a half hour."

Quinns eyes practically bulge out of his head. He looks like he's running calculations in his head, and his jaw drops. "I know," you grimace, "I'm sorry, I should've watched him better, I knew he wasn't happy about his wrist, and I let him -"

"How did he even get drinks?" Quinn asks, "He's not 21."

"Hush, Y/n, it's not your fault. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing." Quinn says softly, drawing you into his arms.

"Quinn, you don't feel bad either, ok?" You say softly knowing Quinn is beating himself up on the inside. He sighs, purses his lips and doesn't say anything for a long minute.

"It's Canada," you mutter like that explains everything. And to Quinn, it does explain it all.

"Fucking Canada" he mutters shaking his head.

---

Hi guys!! I was very excited while writing this, so I hope y'all like it. Comment comment comment! I love comments, I wanna hear all your thoughts! They always make my day a bit brighter.

On that note, I'm going on a bit of a writing break for a week-ish cause schools getting a bit busy with midterms and final papers and whatnot. I'll still be active, tho (unless i feel like it's distracting, then I might fall off the face of the earth for a bit).

Anyways, with that, I hope y'all have a lovely, lovely evening. Love Soph ♡

[ninii-winchester]

Timeless Love

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 3.7k

Warnings : angst, s12 ep 6 (spoilers), canon violence, mentions of demons, slight mention of john winchester, mentions of amara (slight spoiler), taylor swift reference (?), fluff. Not proofread.

Part 2 to Fleeting Love.

A/n: I don’t remember what exactly happened in that episode i just winged it.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Leaving was the hardest thing Dean had to do other than breaking Y/n's heart. He cried himself to sleep every night after seeing her looking like a shell of herself at school. He missed her smile and he missed being the reason of her smile. How could he let himself fall for someone, when he knew he could never have that kind of life. Loving her was the best and the worst decision of his life. Best because he got to know what love actually feels like and worst because he knows he'd never find anything like that ever again. He wouldn't allow himself to love anyone else in this lifetime. She was his first and last love.

Dean had left town, and Y/n was still picking up the pieces of a shattered heart. Days turned into weeks, but the ache never dulled. Every time she walked by the places they'd shared—her favorite diner, the lakeside road where they'd stargazed—the memories rushed in like a flood. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't outrun the ghost of him.

As much as she wanted to hate him, part of her would always him. He was her first love, her first kiss and her first time. Deep down she knew it had everything to do with his father but his betrayal was still fresh in her mind. She knew her Dean wouldn't do that her but she wished he'd stood against his father. She wished he would've fought for their love. If only she knew the reason he couldn't do it.

Fifteen years had come and gone, and Y/n had built a life—one filled with new memories, a different kind of happiness. But despite the time and distance, her heart remained anchored to a love she never truly let go of. It wasn't that she was stuck in the past; she had moved on in every way that mattered. Yet, in the quiet moments, when the world fell still, it was Dean's face she saw, his voice she heard, as if time had never touched the feelings she carried for him.

Y/n let out a sigh as she waited for her flight to be announced. She was going to Canada for a wake of the man who saved her life. She vividly remembered six years ago, she was coming back from work and a huge dog like creature attacked her. She wouldn't have believed had she not seen it with her own eyes. It was a werewolf.

She dug into the supernatural, surprised by the sheer amount of lore tied to what was already known. Myths, legends, and creatures she once thought were just stories had entire histories woven into the fabric of the world she knew.

Asa Fox was the one that killed the thing and rescued her. Now he was no more. She owed it him to atleast pay her final respects to him.

Hours later she landed in Canada and made her way towards Asa's mother's house. It was late at night when she arrived. She stepped inside and noticed a small crowd gathered in the living room, while others lingered in the kitchen and a few more were out in the backyard. They were all lost in conversation, sharing memories and stories of the brave hunter they had come together to mourn. The air was heavy with both grief and respect as they honored the life he'd lived.

She'd found Asa's mother and paid her condolences to her, recounting how her son had saved her life and how she looked up to him. The older woman nodded and Y/n took it as her cue to leave her alone. She walked the hallway and bumped into someone, she quickly apologised and looked up to them and all the air seemed to leave her lungs.

"You.." she choked on her words and the other person looked at her in mild confusion and threw her an anticipatory glance. "Mary Winchester." Y/n finally spoke. The older woman tried to rack her brain if she knew the woman infront of her but her mind remained blank.

Y/n had seen photos of Dean's mother in his room also in his wallet and she adored how much he loved his mother. Her mind went haywire thinking back to when he told her his mother died in a house fire. Did he lie? Why would he though? Thousands of thoughts ran into her mind as she thought back to her relationship with the Winchester. Even after fifteen years he's still vivid in her head. Did everything he tell her was a lie? Was Dean even his real name.

Y/n could feel herself hyperventilate and she immediately wanted to put space between the supposedly dead woman and herself. She went to the kitchen to grab herself some water. There were only two people in the kitchen, a woman with a pixie cut and a man taller than anyone she had ever seen. She grabbed a water bottle chugging it down and calming her heartbeat. She took a deep breath before speaking,

"Uhm sorry to intrude but, is a Mary Winchester out there?" She questioned the couple gesturing towards the hallway she came from. The man looked at her with a unreadable look in his eyes.

"Yeah." The woman responded.

Y/n sighed, — atleast I'm not going crazy. She thought to herself. But if that's Dean's mom, what on earth is she doing here?

"You're Y/n." The man said. It wasn't a question. He knew her. She craned her neck to look up at his face and she furrowed her brows.

"I'm sorry have we met before?" She questioned taking a step forward. A sad smile appeared on his face. The woman beside him looked at him expectantly waiting for his reply.

"You seriously don't remember me?" He chuckled and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but I'd remember if I had met someone as big as you." She replied leaning on the counter behind her.

"I wasn't this big when we met Y/n/n." Sam spoke and the nickname made her eyes flash with recognition but it was quickly overtaken by the hurt that came with those memories.

"Sammy." It just slipped out. She didn't mean to call him by that name, but when he called her y/n/n, it came out subconsciously. Her heart started beating loudly at the thought of his brother being here. She had never thought she'd ever meet Dean Winchester ever again and she was not ready.

Sam knew whatever happened between her and his brother hurt her more than anything and he wouldn't blame her if she up and left without a word, but he'd missed her. And he missed the man his brother was when he was with Y/n. After her, he was just a shell of a man, running on his father's commands like a soldier. Someone who seemed to let go off every emotion and just waiting for his father's next order.

Sam introduced Y/n to the woman beside him as sherrif Jody Mills and she was good friend.

"How're you Y/n?" Sam asked and she looked at him remembering the small kid she used help with homework.

"Been good. How about you?" Sam scoffed at her question. If only she knew how he's been. And how his brother's been. Coming back from the dead, hell, purgatory. She'd probably throw a chair at him for making up all this bullshit.

"Good yeah." Sam nodded. Y/n could hear footsteps approaching and prayed it wasn't who she thought it was. God knew she didn't want to see him. Maybe she hadn't been a good person, and this was her punishment, because Dean Winchester walked into the kitchen, her breath caught in her lungs.

"Sammy where the he-" Dean words got caught in his mouth as his gaze landed on her.

Y/n looked at the man she had loved and hoped that after all these years, she'd have fallen out of love with him. But one look and her heart started thudding against her ribcage. He had aged, but somehow, he was even more handsome. He was muscular now, his arms toned beneath his layers, and she could see it all. She could feel her eyes water and she didn't want to create a scene at someone's wake, she pushed past Sam and left the space with a word.

Dean stood frozen, he couldn't believe he'd run into her here of all places. The sight of her brought back a flood of memories and feelings he thought he had buried long ago. Despite the years and the changes, she was just as beautiful as he remembered. But then he wondered why was she here? Is she a relative? Does she know about the supernatural? Or worse is she a hunter?

He didn't know the answer to his questions but he knew one thing, that them meeting again after fifteen years was fate. And he'd be damned if he let go off her ever again. He'd do anything in his power to win her back because God knows he's been miserable since the minute he broke up with her. Without wasting another second Dean went behind her. He could see her going to the backyard and taking in deep breaths.

"Y/n." He said approaching her.

"Go away Dean.”

“Just hear me out once.” He pleaded.

“I don't want to hear any more of your lies." Her voice cracked as she spoke and Dean knew she was on the verge of crying.

"Lies? What lies?" He asked holding her arm and turning her to look at him. She shrugged her arm out of his grip and pulled away harshly.

"Maybe you have a bad memory Dean, fifteen years isn't that long of a time to forget about it." She snapped glaring at him. "Need I remind you of your lies? My mom died when I was four! She's inside I've seen her with my own eyes." She yelled. "I love you Y/n! And the very next day after breaking up with me I see you making out with some cheerleader. You don't do that to someone you love." She cried pushing at his chest. "You're a goddamn liar so leave me the fuck alone like you did that night at the park."

Each and every word pierced through him like a needle. It was worse than spending forty years in Hell. He knew he'd hurt her and deserved everything she threw his way, but hearing her think that he didn't love her—it just broke his heart. He never lied about his love for her.

"Y/n, baby please let me explain. I swear I'll tell you everything." He said holding her hand and she pushed him again.

"Don't touch me. And I don't need your explanations." She wiped her tears. "I'm not here for you I'm here for Asa." Dean felt a pang of jealousy at the late hunter's name and he wondered if they'd had something before he died. Is that why she's here. He completely forgot it's been fifteen years and there might be a possibility that she'd moved on. 

"How do you even know him?" He couldn't but ask. His jealousy getting the better of him.

"That is none of your concern." She retorted sharply.

"Sweetheart please hear me out." Dean begged and she moved to go back inside but the doors were locked.

"What the hell?" She tried turning the doorknob but it didn't budge. The two of them were locked out. Dean tried pushing the door but to no avail.

"Hello Dean." Dean turned to see Billie standing there and she was smirking almost evilly.

"Billie what are you doing here?" He asked the reaper. And she told him she's here to do what she does. She's here to take everyone who's inside. Dean asked her what's happening inside and she tells him a demon's got them locked inside and something about vengeance. He had to save Sam, his mom and Jody. Dean tells her to open the door for him and let him go inside, she makes him a deal to never interfere in the natural order of things and he agrees as long as she lets him inside.

"Dean what the hell is going on?" Y/n was now scared. Although she was well aware of supernatural theoretically but she was in no way prepared to fight. And demons? She didn't know those were real too.

"I'll explain later." Dean replied as calmly as possible. "Billie, I need you to keep her safe, please." Dean requested and the reaper raised her brow.

"Dean, I can either keep her safe or let you inside. I'm getting one thing out of this deal, and you're getting only one too." His jaw clenched at her words and he was internally cursing her for being a bitch.

"Fine. Get us in." He begrudgingly told the reaper and she created an opening in the door. Dean turned to Y/n and cupped her face in his large hands. "We're going in, but you gotta trust me, sweetheart. Stay by my side and I'll protect you." Y/n thought he was completely out his wits asking her to go inside a place where there's a demon.

"Time's of essence Dean." Billie commented and he glared at her. He held Y/n's hand and before she knew the two of them were inside. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Sam, Jody and his mom alive, and even the others. Sam filled him in how the demon had cut off the water supply and locked all the doors. Y/n was terrified of being locked in a house with a demon but Dean held her close to him. His hand gripping hers tightly.

They all gathered in the living room to make a devils trap to trap whoever the demon was possesing and to keep themselves safe, being inside it.

"Dean who was that outside?" Y/n questioned her voice a quiet whisper.

"That was Billie she's a reaper." Dean replied moving her into the devils trap. She looked at him wide eyed.

"A reaper? The one that takes souls?" She questioned and he nodded. "You're acquainted with a reaper? What the fuck?" Before either of them could say any further Jody accused Mary of being possessed since her was last one to come into the room.

Sam and Dean tensed at her accusation of their mom being possessed but then Mary stepped into the devil's trap and moved out proving she's not it. Then Jody started cackling evilly, saying that was clever of Mary. With a flick of her hand she wooshed the trap, then she started attacking everyone one by one taunting them. She threw the twins across the wall and then slammed Mary in the door. She moved her hand towards Y/n but Dean pushed her behind him and the demon made him fly in the wall. Y/n was left unguarded and demon closed in on her. Sam neared them but possessed Jody threw him in the cabinet.

Y/n screamed as the demon neared her she inched backwards, her body trembling with fear. Dean watched as Jody wrapped her hand around Y/n's neck, he got up on his feet and pushed Jody away from her, not too harshly to not hurt his friend's body. He wrapped his body over her, shielding her body with his' and Sam started chanting the incantation to exorcise the demon out of Jody. The twins joined them and then Mary finished it off sending the demon back to hell.

The lights flickered back on and everyone was relieved at last. Y/n clutched Dean's shirt in her hands and hid her face in his chest. "You're fine..it's gone." He rubbed her back soothingly. "Hey sweetheart, look at me." Dean made her pull away slightly and placed his fingers underneath her chin making her look at him. "You okay?" She shook her head, no.

An hour later, Y/n was wrapped up in Dean's jacket, his mind drifting off to the first time he'd lend her his jacket and how it was their new beginning. He wondered if it was a sign of their another new beginning together. She sat on the hood of the Impala and the boys stood in front of her.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?" She looked at Sam and Dean, while Mary and Jody watched their interaction for afar. "I mean I know werewolves and Vampires but demons? Reapers?" Dean grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"How'd you know about Werewolves and Vampires?" Dean asked softly and she told him how she was attacked by a werewolf and Asa saved her. And she researched a bit about the supernatural and Dean nodded in understanding. He shot Sam a glance and younger understood and left them alone.

"Sweetheart, I'll explain everything and I'll tell you why I left. You see I'm a hunter, my parents were too. I've grown up in this life. My mom did die when I was four. A demon killed her. My dad wanted us to find that demon and kill him. When I met you, I forgot all about it. I wanted to be a normal boy, I did love you with everything I had." She looked up at his eyes and they were sincere, different from when he broke her heart. It wasn't like he was holding back, or hiding something. "My dad, he didn't want you to get involved or me to lose focus. He told me that I should break your heart so you can move on with you life." Dean explained.

"I did move on with my life Dean." He shut his eyes not wanting to see the look on her face when she tells him she found someone else. "But I couldn't love anyone else. You made me question my worth, because, fuck it I was in love. And fuck you Dean for I couldn't have us."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you question your worth, hell I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, I just wanted to keep you safe, away from this life. You aren't even back in my life for less two hours and look at this mess. I don't even want to think of what harm I would've caused you if you'd been with me all those years." He looked apologetic. "As for my mom, God's sister brought her back."

"Who THE FUCK?" She looked dumbfounded.

"It's long story." Dean chuckled. "All I'm saying is I've loved you this whole time and I only broke up with you because I didn't want you be in danger and because my dad said it was for the best." He rubbed the back of his head, half ashamed.

"Where's your dad?" She asked after few minutes of silence.

"He died, a few years ago." Dean replied gloomily.

"I'm sorry." Even if the man was the reason for her heartbreak she didn't feel good about him being dead. After all he was Dean's father. Dean nodded. "What now?"

"We could try again, that is if you want to. I'm tired of not being with you. I feel meeting you again after all these years, it's fate." Dean said softly. "And I still love you so fucking much." He rested his forehead against her.

"I still love you too, Dean." She whispered. The tension between them hangs in the air, heavy and charged. Without another word, Dean cups Y/N's face, his thumb gently brushing their cheek. There's a moment of hesitation, a breath, and then he leans in, capturing their lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is deep, intense, filled with all the unspoken emotions they've both been holding back. Dean pulls Y/N closer, as if trying to convey everything he couldn't say in words. For that moment, it's just the two of them, lost in the heat of the kiss. When they finally pull back, both breathless, Dean's forehead rests against Y/N's, his eyes still closed.

"Being away from you was worse than going to hell."

"As if you'd know what hell’s like." She replied rolling her eyes. Dean pulled away, his eyes filled with mischief.

"Oh I do, I went to hell, i was there for forty years."

"You're lying." She gave him a look and he shook his head.

"I'm not. I went to hell and then Castiel the angel pulled me out. Who by the way is now my best friend."

"SAMMY? HE'S LYING ISN'T HE??" She yelled to the younger Winchester and Dean barked out a laugh at her reaction. Sam didn't know what she was on about so he laughed too.

"You've got a lot of catching up to do, sweetheart." Dean said while helping her down off the hood. He threw an arm over her shoulder and dragged her towards his mom. "Mom this is Y/n. My highschool sweetheart." He said pecking her temple.

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Winchester.” Y/n said extending her hand for her to shake but Mary pulled her into a hug.

“Call me Mary. And welcome to the family.” She smiled. Dean grinned, watching the exchange with a sense of pride. Mary’s embrace made Y/n feel instantly at ease. Mary pulled back slightly, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name.”

“You have?” She questioned looking at Dean who looked away shyly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t around the first time.” Mary joked and Y/n let out an awkward laugh.

Dean stood by, his arm still around Y/n, feeling a deep sense of contentment as his worlds finally came together. He knew they still had a lot to talk about but he also knew that they were meant to be. It’s destiny. Now that he’s got her, he’s never letting her go matter what life throws at him. He’s finally home.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkness @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Pt 8

Read the other 7 parts HERE

Warnings: cursing, suggestions to sex, mentions of throwing up, that should be it!

WC: 4.8k

A/N: hello 👋

“Really? You still have interest?” Jessie looks baffled, her eyes wide with raised eyebrows.

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you saw me staring earlier.”

“Yeah I did.” She smiles, thinking back to how she had intentionally wiped her forehead while facing in your direction. She was more than pleased with herself when she put back down her shirt to see you had been watching.

“Look, you said terrible things, and if anything even remotely close to that happens again, I will never speak to you again. But Jessie I really like you. I want to give you a second chance even though maybe I shouldn’t but I’d like to believe what you and Janine both said is true. This isn’t your typical behavior, you’re just under a lot of pressure.”

“I promise I’m not usually like this.”

“I know, that’s why I like you. But that’s also why this is so frustrating and why the other night hurt me so much. I know you’re not usually like this, I know how kind and caring and sweet you are. And if it wasn’t for all this, the fact that we work together, in this dynamic, I would’ve asked you out on a proper date weeks ago.” It’s true, if you haven’t worked with her, if you’d met her at school, at a cafe, just walking down the street, you would’ve already taken her out. You would’ve asked her on dates, but you couldn’t, not when you worked together.

“Then fuck all this,” she gestures to the room and the Canada logo on her own training top. “Just ask anyway.”

“I don’t want to get you or myself in trouble.” You look at the logo on her shirt, it wasn’t that easy to just say fuck it to the team, the team Jessie had represented since she was 15.

“We can talk to whoever we need to.” She spits out.

“Oh be for real Jessie we haven’t even gone on a date, we don’t need to be in Helen’s office signing paperwork already.” You give her a smile, it was nice she was willing to talk to Helen but a little too early.

A smile breaks on Jessie’s face. “Okay, maybe that was a little premature.” The smile from her face fades as she speaks again. “So, maybe we go with the original plan? Wait until these games are over, see where we’re at?”

You nod in agreement. “But for now, coworkers.”

“Coworkers.” Jessie repeats looking at you before a mischievous smile comes across her face.

“What?” You ask, somewhat afraid of what her answer might be.

“This is I think the third time we’ve agreed to be coworkers.” She scoffs.

“No, this time I’m serious.” You do your best to give her a stern look.

“You said that last time.” She laughs

“Shut up.” You can’t help but laugh with her, you two were terrible at being coworkers.

“At least it’s only a few more days and one more game.” She says softly after she’s done giggling.

“Only one more game.”

You quickly found yourself getting ready for that final game. The reality that you were helping prep players for an Olympic gold medal match had you a little extra nervous. Canada was taking on Spain. Reigning World Cup Champions Spain.

The first 90’ minutes of the game felt like they went by in a blink. When the whistle blew the score remained 0-0. Both teams had good shots, both keepers making impressive saves.

The extra time came and went as well and suddenly you felt like you were back a few days ago.

Penalties. Again.

You watch the first few players step up. Julia makes her penalty 1-0, a Spain player makes her’s as well, 1-1. Feeling overwhelmed, you stare at the ground for the next few players. You watch your feet, you don’t even need to watch. You can hear the silence followed by the kick and you get the answer on save or miss through the reactions of the staff standing next to you. Chloe misses, 1-1, Spain makes theirs 1-2, Jordyn makes it 2-2, a player from Spain misses 2-2, Ashley makes her kick, and the Spanish player misses wide, 3-2.

You feel a quick pinch at your side where your Mom’s hand was resting around your waist. You look up to her and she subtly nods toward the field. You turn and watch as Jessie picks up the ball. You can practically feel the air get sucked out of your lungs. She was taking Canada’s fifth and final kick. If she makes it, it’s over. If she misses, Spain has the chance to tie.

You watch her meticulously place the ball, adjusting it a few times. Once she’s satisfied with the ball, she takes three steps back, and looks down, closing her eyes for a moment. You held your breath, beginning to subconsciously time how long she was waiting. You started to panic, feeling like you could puke, it felt like she was waiting too long again, or maybe it just felt like time had frozen. Jessie opened her eyes, and began her approach. She kicked it and you watched as the ball slammed against the back of the net.

You’re practically yanked onto the field by those around you, you’re not even sure where you were running besides the mass of red and white in front of you. You end up in the mob of bodies, receiving random hugs from whoever was around you. You kept your eyes scanning hoping to find Jessie, her height not helping her stand out. You also know she’s likely in the middle of the mass of her teammates, scoring the winning penalty.

As the initial celebration dies down, the players begin to spread out. Some find their families in the crowd, others moving to sit and soak in the moment. You keep your eyes scanning, hoping to find the girl with the armband.

While you’re busy spinning in circles looking for her, someone grabs your hand from behind.

“Come here.” The captain had found you before you could find her. Jessie grabs your hand, pulling you out and away from the crowd. The two of you move over to the side of the pitch, not far off from her teammates but enough to be in your own space. She turns you toward her, dropping your hand.

“I thought about you.” She says, tears in her eyes, her hands holding your face between them, her thumbs gently rubbing your cheeks. “I thought about you when I took that kick. You were my calm person.”

“I almost threw up.” You admit to her.

“What?” Jessie says, a mix of concern and a smile across her face. Her hands are still on your cheeks.

“I was so nervous watching you kick.”

“Oh.” She laughs. “You’re the reason I wasn’t nervous.” You’re grateful Jessie was able to quickly move past the fact that you had almost thrown up from nerves, embarrassed that you even said it to her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it Jessie.” You say, finally getting out the words you prepared and meant to say when you first saw her.

“I wouldn’t have been here without you, you deserve this too.” Her eyes are still locked with yours. You both stand listening to the rest of the team celebrate behind you. You both break eye contact hearing some screaming getting louder.

“Wooooooooo” you watch as Janine goes running by, a flag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other hand with Jordyn and Julia following shortly behind her yelling to give them back the bottle. You watch as Jessie rolls her eyes at her teammate’s behavior. You both turn back toward each other. This time Jessie’s eyes move down to your lips, then to your eyes and back to your lips. She moves her head slightly toward you.

“Jessie.” You warn her, you don’t want her to stop but you want to remind her that you’re both standing in a packed stadium with hundreds of cameras taking photos.

“Who cares.” She whispers before she starts to lean in again. You start to close your own eyes, not leaning in, wanting this to be her choice to kiss you in front of her team, her coaches, her family that was likely here.

“Congratulations Jessie.” You hear a voice you know all too well to the side of you. One of your Mom’s hands coming down on your shoulder while the other comes down on Jessie’s shoulder. You feel a slight push back on you, breaking up how close you and Jessie were.

Jessie’s hands fall from your face as she turns to look at your Mom.

“Oh, um, thank you, hey congratulations to you too, none of us would be here without all your hard work.”

“Thank you Jessie, assuming you were just thanking my daughter as well?” Your Mom gives you a quick glance, you know she’s teasing both of you, Jessie doesn’t get the message, trying to explain herself.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, she’s been great, um obviously, with my injury of course, my calf, she helped me a lot. I was thanking her for all that.” The way Jessie starts to stutter, tripping over her words as she tries to subtly deny the fact that she was about to kiss you, it was cute. You’re sure if she wasn’t already red in the face from playing, her cheeks would be from embarrassment.

“Hey if I don’t see you again before you players go out tonight, be safe, look out for each other.”

“We will.” Jessie assures your Mom before she walks away leaving you two again.

“She really has impeccable timing doesn’t she.” Jessie looks at you.

“She does.” You say before muttering “cockblock” under your breath only it comes out a little bit louder than you expected.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You both stand for a second, your chance to kiss clearly over as you’ve both been brought back to reality of standing in the stadium, Jessie’s teammates still running around. You watch as she scans the crowd before her head stops moving and she waves.

“There’s my family.” She points in the direction she waved in and you see a small group of people waving back at her.

“Go.” You shove her in their direction and she looks at you giving you one last smile before taking off running in their direction. You watch her, looking at the back of her jersey as she runs away to be pulled into a group hug. You turn back to go find the rest of the staff, giving your congratulations to whoever you passed in a Canada shirt as they did the same back to you.

The stadium is soon only filled with a sea of red, the Spain supporters leaving. The podiums are brought out at you watch as they begin to set up for the medal ceremony.

The team is quickly ushered back into the changing rooms put on their designated podium outfits. They quickly come back out, lining up to step up and receive their medals.

You stand off to the side, watching as France steps onto the bronze medal platform, followed by Spain. And then you watch as the Canadian team steps up. You can’t help but feel tears in your eyes, watching the girls that you’ve been working with for countless days helping at training, at matches, helping them stretch on the bus or in a hotel room, all those moments, all they had worked for and they did it. You watched as they got their medals Jessie receiving hers from Janine and putting one around Sabrina’s neck.

You watched as Jessie picked up the medal around her neck, examining it with her hands, flipping it around. You watch as Janine leans over, saying something into Jessie’s ear, Jessie immediately picking up her head and looking in your direction. She gives you a smile when her eyes meet yours. Janine must’ve noticed you staring and told her. You give her a thumbs up before they begin playing all the national anthems.

Once the ceremony is finished you stand around a bit longer, watching all the players soak in the moment together. You find yourself catching Jessie’s eye every once in a while until she finally makes her way over to you.

“You’re coming out with us, right?” She slings an arm around your shoulder.

“Tonight?”

“Obviously, we’re going to go celebrate, we’ve got a bar rented out.” You had heard discussions of the post game celebrations, but never really read into them too much, you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself thinking they’d win, it felt like you’d jinx them.

“I don’t want to intrude, if it’s a player thing.”

“It’s not, everyone’s invited, coaches, staff, families, everyone.” Jessie turns so her lips are against your ear. “Plus, I want you to be there.” She says quietly. You feel your skin prickle at her low voice and the feeling of her breath on your body.

You stumble over your own words as you agree to meet them at the bar later, your brain short circuiting from the feeling of her lips against your ear. “Oh, then yeah I’ll be there.”

You quickly found yourself a couple drinks in, courtesy of the Canadian foundation, in a rather large, but dark bar. Loud music and conversation filling the air. You had only arrived about an hour ago, thankfully it was within walking distance from the hotel. You had gone back and changed into a nicer pair of gray jeans and a simple Canada sweatshirt. Since you opted to change you did not arrive at the same time as Jessie, you had been unable to find her since arriving. You felt like you were back searching for her on the field after the match. Most of the players had remained in their sweatsuits, some changing into other t-shirts, sweatpants. You had found just about every other player, who all led you astray in which direction they last saw their captain.

You make your way back to the bar to get another drink, deciding you’ll just go sit with Olivia and the rest of the staff at the table they had occupied.

“Hey, where have you been?” You feel hands grab tightly onto your hips and you turn to see the brown eyes you’ve been looking for.

“Hi, I changed.” You gesture down to the fact that you were no longer wearing athletic clothing like you did while at work. “but I’ve been here an hour or so, I’ve been running around looking for you.”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes graze over your body. “You look good.” You can smell the alcohol radiating off of Jessie you’re not sure if it’s alcohol she’s consumed or if it’s just a mix of the champagne that was sprayed across her skin in celebration along with the smell of the bar. Her hands are still firm on your hips. “Come here.” She gently tugs you away from the bar.

“Hang on, let me grab this.” You reach for the beer the bartender had placed in front of you and then let yourself be pulled away.

She moves to grab your free hand instead and keeps pulling you, through the mass of red and white, back to the back corner of the bar and into a small hallway.

“Where are we going?” You ask when she finally stops walking.

“Here, where it’s just you and me.” Her hands find their way back to your hips and she pushes you back so you’re against the cool brick wall. “So we can do this.”

Her hand comes up to your cheek as it did after the game, but this time it doesn’t stop at your cheek she keeps moving it to the back of your neck, gently pulling you toward her and she moves in. This kiss was different than the rest, the rest had been timid, soft, gentle. This kiss was firm, her lips starting to move against yours immediately, its only a few seconds before you feel her tongue against your lips. You part your lips and let your own tongue graze against hers. You get the answer to your earlier question as you can taste the tequila and what you think is vodka on her tongue. The taste has you pulling back.

“Hey.” Jessie protests, a frown across her face.

“Are you drunk?” You put your hand without the beer against her chest, holding her back from leaning in to kiss you again.

“What?” She cooks her head at you.

“Are you just making out with me because you’re drunk? I can taste the liquor.”

“No you idiot, I mean yes I’ve been drinking, but I’m not drunk, plus I’ve wanted to makeout with you for weeks.”

“Okay but we’re in public. You team could see.” It’s not that you don’t believe her when she says she’s not drunk, it’s just you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy with her choices to suddenly makeout with you in a bar, knowing she had definitely consumed something.

“I don’t care.”

“Jessie, no.” You step away from her..

“What? Oh come on? Because I’ve had three drinks? How many have you had?” She posed a fair question, she had had just as many drinks of you but you had been at the bar for far less time, if anyone was the problem here it would’ve been you.

“I just think you’re not fully considering the consequences of making out with me in a public bar. When you’re sober, we can do this.”

She leans down close to you and you think she’s going to kiss you again, but she brings her mouth toward your ear. “Okay, then I’m done drinking because I want to makeout with you. I promise I’m not drunk, not even tipsy, but if you want to wait that’s fine.”

“Okay.” You reply and Jessie turns walking back into the room. You follow her and watch as she makes her way to the bar, when she turns back she has two bottles of water in her hands.

“You should drink if you want to drink, it’s your night to celebrate.” You say when she comes over to your side, shaking one of the bottles of water at you. You don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t celebrate.

“No, I’m not a big drinker anyway, I had already decided to be done, I just got peer pressured into some shots with some of the youngsters when I first got here.” She takes a large sip of water.

“Jessie.” Your conversation is interrupted by hearing someone call from behind you and a girl runs up to her followed by two other men and a woman.

“Hi! Oh I’ve miss you.” Jessie takes the girl into a tight hug before releasing her and moving onto the next person hugging the next person.

“We’re so proud of you honey!”

“Thanks Mom.” Jessie mutters into the women’s hug. That's when you’re able to make the connection, this was Jessie’s family standing in front of you.

“This is my family, my mom, dad, sister and brother.” She points to each person. She introduced her family to you. She starts explaining how you’ve helped her with her injuries, and how you help everyone with stretching and staying healthy. She’s singing your praises to her family, making you blush standing next to her.

You stick around for a couple minutes as Jessie continues to talk about you. Not wanting to force her family to listen to stories about you, you tell Jessie you’ll be over at a table and leave her to enjoy the moment with her family.

You slide into a booth next to Janine and a few other people you didn’t know, assumed friends and family of the team. It doesn't take long for Janine to bring up the topic of Jessie.

“Just so you know,” Janine claps her hand hard against your back, giving you a slight shake. She leans in close to you. “I’m spending tonight, and probably the rest of the nights we’re here in his hotel room.” She points at the man next to you who now you recognize from photos to be her fiancé. “So there won’t be someone else in Jessie’s room.” You pull back to just look at her, you couldn’t believe what she was implying.

Janine must’ve thought you didn’t understand what she was suggesting when you didn’t respond. “Ya know, if you and a certain someone want to-”

“I know what you meant!” You spit out quickly. Taking a sip of the water you had. Upon your snappy response Janine quickly changed the subject, eying up the medal around her neck again, showing it to her fiancé.

It wasn’t long before you felt the booth sag next to you and Jessie alone with her sister found themselves next to you in the booth.

“Elysse!” Janine exclaims reaching over you and Jessie to attempt to hug the girl. Both of them leaning in pushes you and Jessie practically into each others laps.

“Sorry.” You apologize to Jessie, it wasn’t your fault but you felt like you were squishing her.

“All good.” She gives you a sweet smile before returning to her own personal space as Janine removes herself from across you two.

“Hey.” she slaps Jessie’s leg getting her attention. “I just finished telling this one that-” You almost go to cover Janine’s mouth with your hand. You know she’s been drinking and you also knew what was about to come out of her mouth. But you don’t stop her, instead you tilt your head down clenching your eyes hoping it’ll stop Janine’s words, only it doesn’t. “I’ll be in Ethan’s hotel room the rest of the trip, if you want to use it.”

“Oh.” You can feel Jessie’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you slowly open your eyes and send a pointed look in Janine’s direction.

“What?” She says, reading the uncomfortable looks you and Jessie were both giving her. “Oh what, do you two really think you’re doing such a good job of keeping it secret? You were practically making bedroom eyes at each other during the medal ceremony today.”

“Janine!” Jessie shouts at her friend before just shaking her head. You finally have the courage to take a glance at Jessie, her eyes are wide, she looks uncomfortable, you can also see her sister behind her looking between you and Jessie, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Alright, it might be time to get you out of here.” Janine’s fiancé says, grabbing Janine’s hand as he stood up. He gives a quick wave at the table, half as an apology, half as a goodbye. You all wave back to him and Janine and they walk into the mass of people.

You sat for a little bit longer, some teammates coming to join your table for a few minutes to chat before they’d run off to talk with someone else. It was only an hour later that Jessie’s Dad found his way to the table. “Jess, we’re going to get out of here, it’s late and we’re not young anymore, we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course.” Jessie responds, she smacks your leg a few times then pointing to the side of you. You get the hint and stand up to let her out of the table. You watch as she stands up giving her Dad a tight hug.

“Coming now or later?” Her Dad looks at Jessie’s sister.

“Now, just give me a second to use the restroom.” She nods and her Dad walks away after they agree to meet outside.

“I don’t have to pee, I just wanted him to walk away. You two enjoy your night without Janine.” She says with a wink and a look between the two of you. You look over to Jessie who’s sporting a blushed red face. Her sister stands up to hug her and whispers something into Jessie’s ear, making her turn even more red. She gives you a quick wave and heads in the direction of the door.

“I think I’m going to call it a night too, feeling tired.” You say, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day hit you all at once. A yawn coming out of your mouth.

“I was actually thinking the same thing.” Jessie flashes you a smile. “Would you want to walk together?” You’re not sure if Jessie actually was ready to go or just decided she was going to leave since you were.

“That would be nice.” You take the empty water bottle from her hand and toss it onto the bin with yours. “Do you need to say bye to anyone?” Jessie just shakes her head.

“Do you?” You shake your head back. Your Mom had gone out with some of the older training staff, not wanting to be in a rowdy bar, Olivia was still around but you’d text her later letting her know you were back in your room. You’re not sure even if you said goodbye to anyone if they’d remember it in the morning or not.

The night was quiet when you stepped outside of the bar, Jessie shortly behind you. You start walking in the direction of the hotel and she quickly jogs to catch up. The two of you walk side by side down the roadway.

“Does it feel different the second time?” You break the silence asking.

“Does what feel different?” Her pace slows down as she turns her head to look at you.

“Winning gold.”

You hear her breathe in and then watch as she tilts her head slightly, deep in thought.

“It’s different, but I’m not sure if it's the winning that’s different. Last time it was an empty stadium, we didn’t get to do the celebrations with family and friends, there weren’t people watching, it felt so isolated, but it was in a weird way more peaceful. We got to just sit on the field, really soak it in.” She took another breath. “We didn’t get to do that, even if we could’ve there would’ve been fans, it would’ve been rowdy. Not to say one is better than the other, but yeah it’s different. I also wasn’t captain last time, so this time was more stressful, I felt like a lot of it was on me. Even though I know it wasn’t, it just felt that way.”

You hum acknowledging her answer as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. It’s thankfully pretty empty, Jessie's teammates still out celebrating and only a few other country’s athletes sitting around. You both get into the elevator, you press the button and you can feel a tension building as you ride up in silence. When you get out you walk Jessie to her door first, wanting to be polite and make sure she gets in alright.

“I’m sorry if Janine made it weird earlier. I'm not sure why she said that. I mean I get it but, I don’t want you to think I told her that was going to happen or anything. I don’t expect it to.” Jessie turns before she puts her keycard to the door.

“It’s all good. Little uncomfortable, especially with your sister there but it’s alright.” You shrug. It was uncomfortable but you didn��t mind too much, you had already forgotten about the conversation until Jessie brought it up again.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have to explain myself to her later, she thought it was funny, she teased me for how red I got.”

“Yeah.” You both stand awkwardly outside of Jessie’s hotel room, you shift your weight between your feet, swaying slightly.

“Um, do you want to-”

“Have a goodnight-”

You both speak at the same time.

“Go ahead.” She gestures to you.

“I was just going to say goodnight.” You didn’t want to invite yourself into her hotel room despite Janine’s offer.

“Oh, yeah okay.” You can tell she seems a little disappointed.

“What were you saying?”

“I was going to invite you in?” Jessie looks up at you, her eyes with a glimmer of hope in them. She blinks quickly a few times before adding “Only if you want to, you don’t have to, I’m not expecting anything, you don’t even have to stay very long if you don’t want to, I just thought,”

“Jessie.” You cut her off, able to tell she was starting to overthink by the way her hands were fidgeting. “I’d like to come in.” You say before you lean down, now it’s her back pressed against the wall as your lips find hers. You pull away before any of her teammates or god forbid your mother decides to take a trip down the hallway and sees you two. Jessie turns to unlock the door and you follow her inside. You pull your phone out quickly texting Olivia.

You: Probably not coming back to the room at all tonight, or if I do it’ll be late, don’t worry about me I’m safe.

It takes a minute but she responds.

Olivia: Thanks for the heads up, I expect all the details of your escapades tomorrow

Olivia: seriously though, be safe, don’t do anything stupid.

You look up from your phone over at Jessie, thinking to yourself at least if you “do” anything, it wasn’t considered doing anything stupid, Jessie was smart.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

[itsnotgray]

until forever falls apart | nico hischier

same drill as the cole one, i asked @fantillisdaylight for a player, and this is what became of it. decided this one hurt too good not to share with the masses.

~

nico and his little childhood girlfriend that start dating at 15, thinking it’s them against the world.

the girlfriend who moves away to canada at 16, promises of forever exchanged amidst the careful kisses they press to each other’s lips.

nico joining her in canada, and for a year, it’s perfect. they’re reunited, and filled with we laugh belief that they may actually make it. they made it when she was in canada, snd he in switzerland, so what can truly part them, if not an ocean?

the nico gets drafted, and still, reality hasn’t hit. “we made it with over 3000 miles between us, 800 is nothing.”

he goes to the show the very next season, headed to new jersey bright eyed and full of hope- hope for a long-lasting relationship, as well as a long-lasting career.

very quickly, nico is swept up in the nhl chaos. the media is more chaotic than ever, swarming through latest number one draft pick, eager to see how he’d perform against the very best.

and somewhere along the way, those 800 miles begin to feel like 3000 again. and suddenly there’s an ocean between them again. and suddenly, it’s like nico isn’t even living in the same stratosphere.

“you haven’t called in weeks nico! i’m lucky to even get a goodnight text. what’s happened to us?”

and nico absorbs the question, searching for answer within himself. “what did happen to us?” he asks himself.

and truthfully, he knew. it was a mixture of things, truly, but there was a primary cause: himself. he brought these problems upon them, and he knew it.

“i’m- “ “nico don’t apologize. i know you. i know how you’re mind works. it’s- it’s not your fault. i just think- i swore we were going to make it. but i think- i think we might’ve been wrong.”

and his heart breaks, but he knows it’s the truth. “‘m sorry,” he croaks out, the breaking of his heart audible, even with some 800 odd miles between them.

“me too,” she sobs back, covering her mouth to try and keep her wails in the confines of her mind, at least until they ended the call.

~

they didn’t end the call. they stayed on the phone all night, exchanging sobs and apologies, two shattered hearts trying to soothe one another.

at the all star break, nico flys back to halifax, needing one last moment together, not accepting anything less than ending their relationship in an embrace.

he knocked on her door, (the door of the apartment she had moved into at the start of school- nico missed that. he missed a lot. it made his heart hurt thinking about just how much he missed), fully expecting to have to sleep outside her door (but he’d do that, he thought. he’d do it for her. it’s the least she deserved), but to his surprise, she opened the door.

upon her door opening, he was greeted with a sight that made his heart ache in so many unexplainable ways.

she was there, perfect as ever. hair was a little ruffled, but she was perfect. it was like nothing had changed, but it reality, everything had.

“nico,” she sighed out, tears rushing to her eyes at the sight of the boy who had occupied her heart for so long now (but not forever, a voice taunted her inside- that was over now.)

in a blink of an eye, he crossed the threshold of her apartment (that smelt like her favorite candle, he noted inside his head. oh how’d he miss that smell), wrapping her in his arms. at the feeling of his familiar arms encasing her, she broke, sobs wracking her body once again.

“i guess forever wasn’t ours,” he croaked out, a sob cutting him off from continuing his sentence.

“i guess-“ she started, a sob interrupting her sentence. “i guess not,” she finished, tears soaking the fabric of nico’s hoodie (not one of his old ones, she noted. she knew those fabrics. this- this was new. she didn’t like that. it was just a symbol of the distance between them, literally and figuratively).

a while later, after the couple had calmed down, they sat huddled together on the couch, arms still embracing one another.

“it was good, right?” she hesitantly questioned, afraid of the answer he’d respond with.

“the best,” the boy replied.

and with that, it was like the string that tied them together snapped. the feeling was gut wrenching, that much was true. but over time, their hearts would heal. they’d move on, and one day, could hopefully look back on their time together and smile.

but for now, they’d simply remember each other by the ache deep in their chests, the longing that weighed down their bones, and the broken promises of forever in their hearts.

[sweetbottletops]

When Agu said one phase was ending and a new one was beginning I didn't realize the next phase would be putting Aya in the Pain Cave.

Ch 102

It looks like Koga is spending at least part of her juice box lunch periods with the cool kids now.

The bully (he hasn't earned a name) still seems to be mentally in that desk-kabedon Koga delivered earlier. I don't think he actually knows much about music, but he is still firmly stuck in her orbit with the other cool kids. She's got that kind of pull.

Meanwhile the subculture kids are in the hallway. It's easy to forget they aren't the cool kids and typically stuck to each other even before Koga. Narita gets to be included because Exhibit A.

It's always awkward when a friend crosses over genres and samples other groups at school. Even so...Aya is a touch too in the dumps for Chizuru to believe this is just related to Koga spending her lunch period with the norms. "Because of that?"

Chizuru is the drunken master of love gurus. Never misses even when she doesn't know where she's aiming.

Aka: Back in simpler times when Koga was having an existential crisis and being needy and Aya could fill her needs. Now Koga appears to be doing just fine in her identity and even found other people to talk to about music.

A twist of the knife. How the turn tables.

On a superficial level it doesn't seem like a big deal, but they are teenagers so everything is a big deal. Add in the fact Aya is closeted and hasn't been able to openly share her real feelings even to her best friend all this time and it's complicated.

She couldn't even do abstract girl talk at the overnight trip because "Onii-san" was right there among the girls. And her earlier gushing with Chizuru always was hidden behind "Onii-san".

Aya can only talk a bit more openly to Narita and Kanna and even then she's relying on them to fill in the blanks to accept why she's at this extreme level of desperate about Koga.

From Chizuru's POV Aya had never been interested in boy talk until "Onii-san" came into the scene, and "he" has drifted in and out of the scene unnamed like a "boyfriend" from Canada.

But she never pushed the issue. It was girl bonding stuff and something Chizuru had with Aya that was theirs if that makes sense. And then when Koga appeared Aya stopped gushing outside of when Chizuru would bring "him" up. Which was sus...

Chizuru is about to be jump scared with the title of this manga.

v v v

Chizuru is firing in every direction now. Her? Him? You?!!

The readers who had to have it spelled out to them vs the readers who knew. It was yuri all along.

She's hugging HERSELF. Help her!

The extra sad thing is going all the way back to the Radiohead performance it was Koga who reset them as friends.

Aya had an odd reaction to that at the time. Her crush wants to be friends. "There's no other option, right?" She didn't retract her crush after the reveal. It was Koga who downgraded them to friends and she went along with it. And it was fine at the time because it was the same Koga, however they were going to call it, and she got to at least be Koga's favorite and only.

Which isn't the healthiest considering how isolated Koga was, but when that's as close as you think you'll get with someone you like it's not so bad. She's stuck being hyper aware of how close she has the right to be and worries she might overstep and make Koga uncomfortable. What she wants is how close Joe and Kanna are. And that’s something she doesn't think she'll get. So there's the conflict.

Now Koga is the one feeling comfortable as herself in public and Aya is the only one left hiding who she is. From her perspective she thinks Koga doesn't know who she really is or how it will go over if she found out.

Team Chizuru + Nartia have a lot of work ahead of them. But now that they know at least Aya is not totally alone with her feelings anymore.

[liquidorcard]

HEY Y'ALL IT'S MIKAILER WITH AN "ER" WHY IS THAT SO HARD TO GRASP!?

---

Did I get your attention, Mikaila? I hope so, let's see.

Mikaila, I don't like you. You've done shit that's soured my opinion of you. I'm acknowledging that now to get that out of the way. I'm not here to be two-faced about this or blow smoke up your ass.

But as one idiot who stayed in a toxic relationship to another-- I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better. I know. Being in a relationship like that brings out some ugly shit. You resent and fear people will never forgive you. You don't know if you will forgive yourself. I'm not making fun of you because I think I'm better than you.

And it feels kinda good, being treated badly? In a weird way? When you're used to it? When you feel you kind of deserve it? It did for me too. My abuser did some fucked up shit to me. I don't know how to describe to you the strange feelings I'm left with now. Sometimes I think I finally hate her, sometimes, as pathetic as it makes me feel, I still miss her. It's a rot in you that never really goes away, but you learn to live with it. I understand that agony. I understand that anger of how fucking unfair it is.

You know my opinion of Lily. You're not going to trust me that I'm not saying all this just to get you two to break up to hurt her. Fair. Very fair, not going to pretend like it's not. But if Lily loves you, nothing I'm about to say should be an issue. She should want what's best for you, right?

Here's the rub Mikaila, it's been a few years now. I know you want out of your situation at home, but it doesn't seem like Lily's going to be able to help you with that at this point. I'm sure Lily's given you plenty of reasons as to why, and it's time to listen to her.

If you're heart's set on coming to Canada, your best bet is getting a job here. Or even, going to school. Art degrees (Here in Canada) aren't as expensive, provided you go to the right school. Even taking out a student loan for just one year to figure your shit out. I know you're in quite a bit of debt right now and don't want to get into more, but. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Here's the college I went to. Yes, your work is sufficient to potentially get admitted. Believe it or not, art school's get that illustration is a learned skill. Artists start from all different levels:

Look through the admissions requirements to see if you have the academic records to be admitted. If not, you could also consider upgrading through online classes aswell.

Again though, your best bet is to try to find employment. The cost of living isn't great here right now, but it isn't great anywhere. I doubt you'll be able to find cheaper rent in America.

Once you're here or wherever you end up, away from the chaos of your home, you might find it a lot easier to get your head around, establishing some better independence and becoming a citizen by yourself. It's a shitty process, but not as bad as the one you guys have in the States. We stan an immigrant here.

You need to look out for you, Mikaila. It's not selfish. It's not a matter of whether you "really deserve it or not." Nobody's going to save you. You're emotionally spent because of your parents, You're emotionally spent because of Lily. And it feels kind of nice how much Lily needs you. But you can't help her until you help yourself - and again, if we're all wrong and Lily really loves you, she shouldn't have a problem with you finding your way.

My own mother once told me I was "born sad." I've never not hated myself. I ate up any little bit of love and validation no matter how many bitter, razor pills that came with it too. That's just how it is for some of us.

But you know what Mikaila? Fuck em. Fuck all of them. Fuck everything. Fuck me, Mikaila. You've got one life. One body. One you. Whatever you think of her, someone's gotta fight for that poor bitch. Why not you fight for you?

Everyone's a stinky meat bag stripped down, Mikaila. Everyone's made a fool in the wake of the shit people like you and I have been through. Not everyone's going to be able to forgive everything, but everyone's not wholly past forgiveness.

I'm no better than you Mikaila. Nobody is. Some of us just get to know the worst sides of ourselves better than others.

I don't like some of the things you've done, girl. But I see you. I get it. Tell us all to eat shit. Fix your life. Don't rely on Lily to make you feel whole or to save you. To make you feel worthy. No person can do that. She could be the reincarnation of Mary Mother of God herself, and you couldn't expect that from her. Be your own advocate. If your relationship isn't toxic, it can survive you becoming a more whole you.

This asshole is rooting for you. Give me an excuse to undoomer "Mikailer." My girl needs a win.

[flemingsgirl]

Enough pt. 3

Masterlist

For the opening ceremony you dress in the uniform you got before you left for Paris, personally you thought you were going back to school, but you kinda liked it, causal yet significant and holds bites of your nationality. With America being second last to be presented you had a long night however your time was spent valuable as you messaged back and forth with Jessie.

As the cameras were pointed on the American boat, you packed your phone into your bag, giving your attention to the crowd around you and the people in front of the television. Smiling, you wave to the viewer as you pass them, having an arm around your best friend and jumping up in your spot. Your phone was long forgotten, so when you hit the mattress as you were ready for the night, you had a glance at the device, flooded with several notifications from your family as well as from Jessie.

Tonight, I’m an American myself. GO USA! (and Canada ofc)

Oh, wow, they mixed up the names of north and south Korea…

Damn I see red, how could they. Relieved I’m not there it’s like much and roaring. Nvm go CANADA! #1

OMG!! Look who I spotted!!

Wow she’s kinda pretty, who’s that? Can you get me her number?

Don’t mind the Canadian athlete in the background with his outstanding tracksuit XD

Seems like you’re busy... :/ have fun and be careful. Let me now when you’re back so I know you’re safe! Good night beauty.

Here to say I’m back safe, already in my bed and ready to sleep. Nighty night.

Just moments later your phone rings and you’re quick to accept and stumble into the bathroom, not wanting to wake Avery. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” her voice raspy.

“Why’d you called?”

You could hear some rattling in the background, indicating that Jessie’s fidgeting with something. “Just checking in.”

“It’s late. I thought you were already asleep.”

“I know, but I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I can sleep better or so I could even sleep at all.”

“Oh Jess. What’s wrong?”

The Canadian gulps. “I have troubles sleeping these past days. With all that happened. I can’t have a proper meal cause I don’t have that much appetite and I miss you like crazy and… and…” she rambles on.

“And what? Trust me, I’m on your side.”

“It’s way too soon.”

“About what? Jess, bebe talk to me.”

She stays silent a few seconds before she clears her throat. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Jessie tucks on her earlobe. “Like a lot.”

“Yeah, me too.” You lick your lips, rubbing your forehead. “Look, Jessie. I don’t mean it in any bad way or so. With those new standings maybe, we should wait until all the stressful and anxious days are over to take the next step.” You let Jessie assimilate the information. “Those games aren’t how you imagined them and it’s a hard pill to swallow. But I’m with you. You are enough just like you are, Jessie, don’t forget. You’re perfect in any way. If it gets too much call me, I’ll always be here. Okay?

“Yes,” she mumbles into the phone.

“I’ve got an offer.” You don’t hear any answer. “Jess?” a soft sob is audible. “Hey, hey, Jessie, it’s alright. I got you. Do you listen to me?” the line stays silent. “Jessie?” worry grows in the pit of your stomach. “Hey, hey, Fleming, you’re not ignoring me, you understand?” you chew on your bottom lip. “I suppose you lay in your bed… it’s okay if you fall asleep, yeah. I’ll take that credit. Close your eyes for me, would you?” you give her a second to adjust her position. Soft sobs still lingering in the air as she shuffles under her blanket. “I’ll lead you through the opening try to put your phone behind you at best next to your ear.” A moment passes. “Okay. So, before we were let onto the boat, we had a really dope kinda party in our village. Oh, your little shy self would’ve wanted to burry yourself in the ground. It was even too much for me,” you let out a laugh and one side of Jessie’s mouth turns up, her sobs dying. “It was so loud and there were so many people I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was there for like half an hour and it was scheduled for two hours,” your voice a soft whisper. “Fast forward to our boat tour it was so humid. I send you a pic from before, right? Five minutes later I put them into a ponytail cause they were clutched on my skin. I think we were like three hours on this boat and I’m glad we could message this time otherwise I would’ve died of boredom. I small talked with Simone Biles, LeBron James just to name some. yeah, it was great but a special someone has been missed.” Jessie doesn’t respond, the only sound audible are steady breaths. You wander back into your room and cover yourself with the blanket. “If it’s not clear. I’d like you to be here by my side. To see you and to hold you. I can’t wait to see you again Jessie. Good night until tomorrow.”

Three days later your first game in the tournament was scheduled. Your opponent was the Chinese team, a favoured aspirant for a medal. The start was rough the Chinese women pressured and lead the play. Roundabout an hour into the game your team was down two sets, only one set for the Chinese squad to win. In a matter of time the tables have turned, and the teams were tied, leading to a last set which decides the winner. At the score of 8:10 for the Chinese your coach had to switch you out. Five points before your opponent at the net crossed the foul line so that you landed on her feet and your knee twisted, a pain shot through your leg, but you kept playing. You communicated with your coach, and he took a time out for your team to discuss the matter and how you’ll switch on the field. Your heart scattered as you limp to the sideline where your roommate and best friend stepped up next to the referee and took your place. She gave you a quick hug and reassured you, drying a tear that left your eye. On your way to the bench, you exchange high-fives with the team officials. Taking a seat the physio makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you. By the time you shield your face with your hands and every now and then you dry some tears with the hem of your shirt. In the end your team is defeated which is another heartbreak for you and another wave of tears escape you. Teammates huddle around you and embrace your shaking body. Shortly after you find yourself in the changing room getting ready to shower and put on your comfy clothes for the night.

“What did they say about your knee?”

“It shouldn’t be something serious, but they want to give me a break the next game and maybe the one after.”

“That’s promising.”

“Kinda. Hopefully it works out. If not, they want me to get examined.”

“Reasonable.” You just nod too exhausted and gloomy, only wanting to be in your bed and talk with a special Canadian.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you? You played so well.” You burry your face into the cushion, hiding the blush that grows. “Hey, hey, no hiding here, show me your pretty face.” Her chuckles fill the air, and your heart skips a beat. The past days Jessie’s quite outgoing, charming and offensive.

“Thank you I tried my best, but it didn’t work for us. I’m okay, I think.”

“It’s the thought that counts. Next time will be better. Oh Y/N.” Jessie’s eyes dart over your face. “Tell me.”

“Yeah hopefully.” you stop, a shaky breath escapes your lips, “I... it’s…”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my knee.” You let out a sob. “It just happened and it.”

“But you played on. Were you already in pain?

“Not much, it was kinda unstable and stiff. I don’t know what you’ve seen.”

“At some point you were on the ground and then you stood up and played on. After a few points your trainer took the timeout.”

“For tactics. He sorted the team with the substitution he was going to make. The other player crossed the line and I landed on her foot and mine gave in twisting, and I fell, that was embarrassing.”

“Nothing about it is embarrassing. It’s not your fault and things like that can happen to anyone… I mean the falling, not the injury. How many times am I thrown to the floor or challenged?”

“But it’s part of your game.”

“Are you trying to make my argument unreasonable?” she lowers her eyebrows. “I dare you.”

“What if I do? Try me,” you giggle afterwards as she gives you an evil eye.

“You wouldn’t want that,” she winks at you while she licks her lips, a smug placing itself on them afterward. The heat creeps into her cheeks but Jessie ignores it, holding the stare at you.

You are the first to break the eye contact covering your face with your hands. A grunt finds its way out of your mouth, and you claps your pillow over your head. “Hey, hey, hey shooow youuurself,” the Canadian drags out and you can hear how she pokes her screen.

“Stop it,” you groan and roll your eyes when your face comes to display again as you set the pillow down.

She beams at you, eyes closed, and her nose scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“You being cheesy. A whole new side of you.”

“Oh, stop complaining. I know you like it.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’re still talking to me.”

“I really like this new confident, keep it Fleming.”

[nhl-stories]

midnight love – Anthony Beauvillier

Summary: Hannah was ready to accept her fate as second choice, but a newcomer just entered the picture

Author’s Note: Oh my god I've been working through this for so long and then bam that trade happens. And changed how I was going to end this so I'm a bit distraught.

Word Count: 3.9k

Album Series Masterlist

I can't be your midnight love When your silver is my gold

She wishes she had enough of a backbone to disappoint people, if only in self-preservation. But no, instead Hannah is spending another night as a stand in.

It’s not like these people aren’t her friends, but there’s a hierarchy; they’re Brock’s friends and teammates first, then Cora’s friends and fellow significant others, then at the bottom of the list is Hannah.

At least it’s just a team dinner, not some event where she has to explain over and over again that no, she is not Brock’s girlfriend, just a friend. Usually throw in a joke about taking advantage of an open bar or nice dinner.

His real girlfriend is prettier and more talented, just busy with her emergency medicine residency. Hannah is just a placeholder so he doesn’t have to go somewhere alone.

Don’t worry, Brock isn’t slumming it with the plain-looking girl who works in a fish market.

He’s with Cora: head cheerleader and prom queen in high school, first in her class in college and med school, Miss British Columbia who probably would have been Miss Canada if she wasn’t too busy studying to be a fucking doctor.

Hannah’s only a little bitter.

To be fair, she did it to herself. She spent her whole life as Cora’s less-than-impressive sidekick, she should have seen it coming.

Hannah should have thought twice before introducing Cora to Brock, should have known Cora would charm him and ask him out before Hannah could even tell her how she felt about him. And then it was a year and a half of worming her way into Brock’s heart down the drain.

Brock and Cora are good match. They look like a Barbie and Ken set and then they’re personable and kind on top of it.

Still, Brock can’t seem to take Hannah off a pedestal. It’s a little lower than Cora’s, but a pedestal nonetheless. Maybe if she jumps off, it will put her out of her misery.

“You’re Brock’s girlfriend? The doctor?”

Hannah’s head snaps up from stabbing the cherry in her drink, to see a new face. Anthony Beauvillier, her brain supplies.

“Oh no, just a friend filling in,” she bites back her initial reaction of a barking laugh, “You’re Anthony, welcome to Vancouver.”

“Thanks, so just a friend, what’s your name?”

“Oh, right, Hannah.”

“Hannah since you’re here and not a significant other, I can assume you know all the dirt.”

Hannah blushes under his gaze. His eyes are so blue she can’t seem to keep direct eye contact. So, they keep drifting to his hair, she hadn’t realized he had such soft looking locks since she mostly had seen him on TV with a helmet.

“I guess, what do you want to know?”

She tries to be coy; she definitely knows more than most. She’s so present but so unassuming she guesses she must be easy to open up to.

“Is it really a big deal that Petey brought around a girl?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of exciting off-ice news this season. But I’ve known him for almost 4 years and I’ve barely seen him flirt with a girl, so to bring a girlfriend is kind of big deal. Although between you and me I think he’s been hung up on her for a while.”

Anthony nods.

“The only thing before this was Quinn broke up with his girlfriend from back home and then just started showing up with a new girlfriend like a month later. But Samantha has been accepted into the fold so it’s not really gossip anymore.”

“You really do know the low down.”

“I can’t give you much on-ice info, but off-ice dynamics, I’m your woman.”

He gives her a crooked smile and starts to say something, when a hand grabs her elbow a bit too tight.

“Dinner is starting, I got us seats,” Brock tugs her towards the table that’s filling up.

“Nice talking to you Anthony,” she gently pulls her arm out of Brocks grip.

“Yeah, let’s do it again sometime.”

∫∫∫

“You smell like fish,” Cora says as Hannah sits down next her in the stands.

She pulls up her collar and gives it a sniff, she doesn’t smell anything, “I changed before I came here.”

“I think it’s just embedded itself into your skin at this point.”

“You smelled like a barn when we met and I still became your friend, even though everyone said you smelled like horse butt.”

“Well, the tables have turned and now you’re the stinky friend.”

“Fuck off,” Hannah laughs and flips her friend off.

Cora reaches in her purse for a tiny spray bottle of perfume, “I got you covered my fishy friend,” she gives her a spritz.

“Did I miss anything interesting?”

“I just got here, like 10 minutes before you. Had a last-minute surgery.”

“So, we were both working with guts before we came.”

“Yeah, and hopefully after this, number six will be rearranging my guts.”

Hannah laughs, but it’s hollow. They’ve been together long enough it shouldn’t still sting, but somehow it does.

Thankfully, there’s a big hit on the ice to shift their focus.

“The new guy is pretty cute,” Cora says when play settles.

“Anthony?”

“Yeah, you met him at that dinner thing, right?”

The tone in Cora’s voice makes it clear that she knows something Hannah doesn’t. That she’s toying with her food.

“Mm-hmm, he seems nice.”

“Brock said he was flirting with you. He was all worked up about it too, like ‘this new guy comes in and just charms the first girl he sees, what if Hannah was my girlfriend?’”

Hannah forces herself to focus on the puck traveling down the ice. She can’t look at Cora, let her see something she might jump on

The puck is blown dead, icing, and Hannah tries to keep her face blank when she turns, “He was just trying to meet the group and be friendly.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him. Why would he be trying to flirt with you?”

Hannah bites her tongue, she knows Cora means why would he be flirting with someone at a team dinner, when most women there would be taken. It doesn’t mean it’s any less hurtful. Like Cora isn’t digging her finger into the soft flesh of her biggest insecurities. 

“Brock’s just protective of what’s his,” Cora adds like that’s not another sharp jab.

A wave of nausea rolls over Hannah.

The boys win by one in a mostly winless season, which is good reason to go out and celebrate. Hannah is wrangled into one of Cora’s dresses, and doused in her perfume, and dragged to a club.

One out of three of those things is Hannah’s choice.

“You smell nice,” Brock leans over to whisper in her ear, reaching across her body to steal a gulp from her drink.

Her body involuntarily flushes, like it always does when Brock casually invades her space. So completely unaware of the effect he has on her.

“I smell like your girlfriend,” she hates the way her voice wavers.

“Where is she anyway?” He stares out into the crowd, arm casually thrown over Hannah’s shoulder.

“Dancing with some of the girlfriends,” she waves in the direction the group went.

“Not like you to not join in,” he gives her a smile that used to be reserved for her only.

“It’s been a long day,” she shrugs, “which reminds me, Cora said certain things that mean if I want a good night’s sleep, bring her back to your place.”

“So, I’m scoring off the ice too?”

Hannah gags, “second star on and off the ice.”

Brock laughs and gives her gentle shove.

“I’m gonna get a drink, need a refill?”

Hannah gives him a thumbs up.

She watches him walk towards the bar and Cora appear out of thin air to wrap herself around him. Hannah knows she’ll be waiting on that drink forever.

“Looked like you could use a refill,” a solid wall of warmth slides up next to her, a drink placed in front of her.

She should have been expecting it to be Anthony, but she’s surprised. A warm feeling rolling over her thinking about how Brock thought he was flirting.

“Thanks, Brock’s useless,” she holds up the glass in cheers and takes a sip.

Over the rim of the glass, she catches two blondes sucking face, having their foreplay in front of everyone.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She blurts without thinking of the implication, maybe not caring.

Anthony gapes at her forwardness before Hannah’s brain catches up, “Like to a quieter bar?”

“Sure.”

Hannah takes him to a dive bar, where they drink crappy beer in tall boys and play darts. She’s too dressed up for the location but it doesn’t matter, they only have eyes for each other.

“You worked on a crabbing boat?” Anthony asks incredulously.

The alcohol is already having her run hot, but the focus from Anthony- or Tito or Beau as he said people call him- feels like a direct sunray. She’s the listener not the talker. Yet, there’s something disarming about Anthony, makes her walls fall away, makes her want to talk as much as she listens.

“Yeah, it was a quick way to make a lot of money in a few months, and it was exciting. There aren’t a lot of crabs the past few years so I haven’t had a chance to go back. And I’m not very smart so I have limited options.”

“You’re talking to a hockey player, I’m also not very smart and have limited options.”

“That’s probably explains why Brock and I became such good friends, although he did go to some college,” she grins and throws her last dart.

Anthony doesn’t make a move to start his turn, “so you and Brock were never–“ he cuts himself off with a throw.

“More than friends?” Hannah supplies.

“Yeah,” Anthony visibly tinges pink even in the darkened bar.

Hannah can’t quite vocalize her answer, worried the timbre of her voice will give away all the thoughts and feelings she’s been hiding. She shakes her head instead.

“If Brock was being weird, I think he was just vetting you. As a teammate and if you were worth my affections or something. Not that you were actually flirting with me.”

“I was,” Anthony looks her straight on, no doubt on his face or in his voice.

Something snaps inside Hannah, bursting red-hot in her veins. She’s not going to sit back and wait this time; she’s going to lean into what she’s feeling and grab it tight.

She drags Anthony towards to the back of the bar, pushing him into the bathroom and pushing him against the door once inside. She feels a little depraved, but she drives through the feeling and kisses Anthony.

He’s quick to kiss back, tongue slipping past her lips, gentling her erratic movements. He grabs her hips gently, but firm. He’s a wave of cold water crashing into her molten lava body. Nature in symbiosis.

“I don’t normally do this,” she says between kisses.

He moves his hands up to her waist, he doesn’t stop kissing her, just moves down her jaw closer to her ear, “and this is what you want?”

He sinks in his teeth into the hinge of her jaw, she gasps.

“I want–“ her voice is shaky.

She doesn’t know how to say it or ask for it. She just wants the light of his attention, on her, his whole-hearted focus directed at only her, like no one else exists.

“Cause I want more than a bathroom hookup, but I’ll take what I can get,” she can feel his smile against her skin.

There’s a bang on the door then someone yells, “You don’t have to go, but you can’t stay here!”

It’s like being dunked in the ice-cold Pacific.

She gives him one more peck, “Another time?”

∫∫∫

They find themselves in another bathroom, this time in Demko’s house while the team has a party. Hannah on the counter and Anthony in a vice grip between her knees.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait until after the party.”

Hannah can’t hold back her smile. Hasn’t been for almost two weeks now. They hadn’t seen each other again, but had been texting. If Cora asks, she says it’s Brock being stupid. If Brock asks, she says it’s Cora being dramatic.

“I like it,” digging her fingers into his hair, it’s as soft as it looks.

 “But we can’t take too long,” she adds, though she doesn’t kiss like someone with an exit plan.

“I’ll take my time tonight,” he whispers against her lips.

Voices drift closer to the door when they finally decide to peel apart. Hannah fixes where she mussed his hair as best she can, before peeking to see if the coast is clear.

She makes her way through the kitchen to casually grab a drink and slides up next to Cora and her conversation with the other better halves.

She’s trying to ease herself into the conversation but her mind is elsewhere. In the future and whatever tonight is going to be and in the present glancing over to see Anthony trying to do the same.

Cora elbows her before leaning in, “Classic hot mess Hannah.”

“What?”

“Your very dumb, signature move,” Cora grins, “you forgot to wipe your lipstick off his mouth before you reintegrated back into society.”

Hannah tries to casually glance back at Anthony, he looks towards her at the same time and grins. His lips a shade too pink to be natural. Hannah mimes wiping her lips with the back of her hand, hoping he’ll get the message.

“You dirty girl, I’d recognize that nude berry on any boy’s lips, which honestly let me find you a new color, you’ve been using that for like a decade now.”

Hannah tries to smile through her worry, but Cora knows her well enough to see through it.

“I’m very proud of you for getting him while the getting’s hot, but if you’re worried about me telling Brocky babe or something, don’t worry, secret’s safe with me,” she zips her lips and throws the key over her shoulder.

The giddy nerves in her stomach start fighting the anxious nerves in her stomach.

A heavy arm drapes over Hannah’s shoulder, “There you are, Cora said she saw you but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

That’s the thing, Hannah trusts Cora to keep a secret, she doesn’t quite trust herself.

“Almost feels like you’ve been hiding from me,” Brock laughs at the thought.

Cora joins in and gives Hannah a desperate look to join in as well, Hannah can feel her own laugh is too erratic, but Brock doesn’t seem phased.

“Babe, she’s allowed to have her own life, she’s not just our personal third wheel,” Cora pulls him into her own side.

“Technically Cora, you’re the third wheel to our friendship,” he grins and gives her a peck.

Hannah feels nauseous.

“Oh honey, you’re the third wheel to Hannah and I’s friendship, it’s been around the longest.”

They’re not even acting like Hannah is involved in this conversation, she takes the opportunity to duck out. She grabs another a drink and goes out to the unused balcony. It’s still too cold to hang out there at night, the air is the kind of wet-cold that you can feel in every breath.

“How long have you been in love with Brock?”

Hannah jumps at his voice, barely managing to keep a hold on her bottle of beer.

“I’m not really in love with him anymore,” there’s no use in lying if she’s that transparent.

“Is that why this all secretive?”

Anthony’s eyes are so big, endless blue that Hannah isn’t sure how to read. She wants to learn.

She has reasons lined up: she doesn’t want to effect team chemistry, doesn’t want to ruin her friendships if this goes south, doesn’t want to fall in love with another hockey player.

But all those reasons are logical and rational. And this is emotional in a way she’s not sure she can find room for in her body.

“It’s nice to have something that’s just mine,” she furrows her brow, feels like it’s not quite what she means.

“I’m not the smartest or the prettiest or the most anything, I’m just Hannah. But you act like that’s enough. I’m not just a consolation prize or silver you’re settling for because you can’t have gold.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything for a long time, Hannah feels like maybe they froze outside.

Then he takes a step forward, cupping her face with hands so warm they burn her cheeks. He kisses her slowly; Hannah doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed her like this. Like she’s something precious, worth savoring.

He pulls away and smirks, “I’ve kind of been wishing for silver my whole life.”

“Jesus Christ, is that a Stanley Cup joke?” her smile grows so big it swallows her face.

“Like I’ve said I’m not that smart or that clever either.”

Hannah just has to kiss that stupid smile off his face, not caring who can see them through the windows.

∫∫∫

Brock is pissed.

He acts like everyone doesn’t know what it’s about. Like they don’t notice the glares he sends Beau when he walks into the locker room or how his knuckles go white around a beer bottle when he sees Hannah dance with Anthony at club.

They all let him sulk for a week, without saying anything.

Teammates start to chirp him when it lasts longer.

It comes to a head when Brock goes to a team event alone and brings his mood home to Cora.

“You’re not even his ex or something,” Cora is pretending to be the slowest customer of all time at the fish counter while she complains.

Hannah sort of wishes it was a rush so she could usher her friend away, she’s so over dealing with Brock. The jealousy that she would have killed for a few months ago is starting to become overkill and Hannah kind find it in her to be bothered.

It’s funny that the first time she’s all Brock can think about, is also the first time she doesn’t give a shit about it.

“He’s never had to share you with someone else and now I’m like invisible or something.”

That make Hannah pause.

In all the years she’s known Cora she’s the never been self-conscious, never had a reason to be.

She has to bite back the spiteful smile, it’s nice to be reminded that Cora is a mere mortal too.

“I’ll talk to him, can’t have you feeling lesser than me.”

Cora scoffs, “Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that.”

Hannah rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious bitch, I don’t know why it took so long for it to get through your head, but I’m glad someone finally makes you feel on top of the world.”

The next night Hannah and Anthony are at Brock’s door.

He opens the door and almost shuts it in their face, but Hannah catches the door with her foot and shoves Anthony through the door.

“It’s an ambush babe,” Cora squeezes Brock shoulders, trying to make him unclench an iota.

“I come bearing the traditional British Columbian peace offering, a fillet of fish,” she nobly holds out the wrapped package in her arms.

Brock almost cracks smile.

“Brocky babe, why don’t you help her prep the fish and I will fix Beau here a drink.”

Hannah drags him into the kitchen before he can argue or pout.

She doesn’t really need prep; she knows her way around the kitchen already and the recipe like the back of her hand.

She pulls out a knife and points it at Brock.

“I’ll let you be upset for the time it takes me to cook this fish, and then you’re going to snap out of it.”

She gets to work, “You love Cora, you love that she loves hiking and boating and your dogs. You love that she’s as passionate about her job as you are. You love that she moved the fucking earth to make your dad passing as easy as possible for you.”

Brock’s face is set in stone.

“So why the fuck are you so bent out of shape about me dating someone, to the point where your perfect girlfriend is jealous of me?”

“Of all the people in the world you had to go for one of my teammates? What if something happens and I can’t even think of passing to him or it makes things weird with my teammates.” Brock snaps.

“Cause you’re doing a great job of that right now, Petey says he’s worried you’ll throw a punch soon.”

“Were you just using me until you could land the right hockey player?”

“Not everything I do is about you Brock. Sorry I let you think that for so long.”

She throws some of the fish in the hot pan, it sizzles like her nerves.

“I’m sorry it happened this way, it’s the last thing I would purposely try to do. But can’t you tell how happy he makes me?”

She feels her tears start to fall, hot and heavy. They’ve been locked and loaded for years.

“You didn’t want me when we met all those years ago, and that hurt. And then you fell for my best friend like instantly, and that hurt worse.  You don’t want me that way, so you don’t get to be mad that someone else does.”

Brock looks like he might cry, too.

“I love being your best friend. I love your dumb jokes and you’re stupid fucking laugh. But I can find that somewhere else if you can’t accept this.”

Brock squeezes her tight, she can feel his tears on the crown of her head.

“I want what’s best for you,” he pulls away, “sorry I have a dumb way of showing it, is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Pay my rent when you ask Cora to move in?”

Brock lets out one of his stupid fucking laughs, “maybe by next season you’ll also have a new place to live.”

Hannah shoves him away and plates the last of the fish, “the instant acceptance is appreciated, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

She goes to the dining room where the others are waiting with bated breath, pretending like they weren’t eavesdroping on the whole conversation.

“Hope you guys are ready for some tear-brined salmon for this very emotional and awkward double date.”

Anthony takes her hand when she sits down, she can’t help but kiss him. She likes the view off her pedestal.

[guacala]

premiere, bella ramsey

masterlist pairing: bella ramsey x co-star!reader summary: you and bella go to the last of us season 2 premiere word count: 993 warnings: LOTS of fluff and flirting a/n: I KNOW, ITS LATE, but school is taking all my energy… anyway, i merged these two ideas (1 2), i hope you don’t mind! if you do, just lmk and i’ll be happy to rewrite it <3

you are on the red carpet at the season 2 premiere of your new show, The Last of Us. well, technically it isn't new, it's just new for you. you had spent the last year in Alberta, Canada with the most amazing people, making this video game come to life, and it had undoubtedly been the best year of your life. 

anyway, right now you are in front of all the paparazzi who are calling your name and asking you questions when a certain one catches your eye and your jaw drops to the floor. there, on the literal floor, taking pictures of you, looking as stunning as ever, is the love of your life, and the star of the show, the beautiful Bella Ramsey.

you immediately make your way toward them as they get up and opens their arms for you. the only thing stopping you from quite literally jumping into their arms is that you know that both of your stylists will start yelling at you if you get even the slightest wrinkle on either of your outfits. you can see the cameras flashing and capturing the moment out of the corner of your eyes as you bury your face into their neck. 

“what were you doing there?” you ask, slightly pushing Bella away so you could get a good look at them, “i should be the one taking photos of you!” you see a small blush make its way onto their face as you compliment them. 

“i already got my picture taken,” they say, “and you just looked too good, i couldn’t resist.” now you're the one blushing and you have to fight the urge to bury yourself in their neck again. even though your relationship was public knowledge, you were still private people and wanted to keep the PDA to a minimum, even though you were definitely being tested right now. that being said, you barely have time to react, almost tripping over your own feet as Bella grabs your hand and leads you back to the carpet to take some pictures together.

you feel Bella put a hand on the small of your back as you melt further into them. even though these events are a relatively common part of your careers, it’s still extremely overwhelming to have everyone crowding around you and yelling for a minute of your attention. that’s a good thing about doing this with someone you know and trust. you always know when it’s starting to get to be too much for the other person, even if you can’t see it in yourself, so when you feel Bella start to unconsciously tense up, you turn to whisper in her ear. 

“why do you look so fucking stunning today? anyone you’re trying to impress?” you ask with a big shit-eating grin on your face.

“yes, am i?” they ask, turning to look at you, mimicking the smile on your face.

“you're being a big flirt today, aren’t you?”

“only for you,” they say, without missing a beat, causing you to slightly throw your head back with a laugh.

you hear the paps stop calling your names out as the other actors start arriving, so you and Bella take that as your cue to move on. 

immediately, you hear journalists start yelling both of your names, and you let Bella grab your hand and lead you to one that they were familiar and comfortable with.

“hello, hello!” she says once you reach her, “you both look absolutely gorgeous!”

“oh my gosh, you're so sweet, you look incredible as well!” you compliment her in response.

“how are you?” Bella asks her, “i always love talking with you, but i don’t think i’ve seen you since season one press ended.”

“ugh, you guys are giving me such an ego boost right now,” she says with a laugh, “but i’m doing good, how are you guys feeling right now? i bet there's a lot of emotions coming back this season.”

“yeah, definitely, i was so used to just filming with Pedro, so the new cast members definitely brought a new, shit, what's the word for it?” Bella explains, then turns to you for input.

“vibe?” you ask.

“yeah, they brought a new sort of vibe on set, and it was a really big change.”

“but a good change, right?” you ask, mostly teasing them.

“yes, of course, the best sort of change,” they say, rolling their eyes, and making you smile.

“get out, y’all are too cute for your own good!” the journalist laughs before turning her attention to you, “and how was the experience for you? it couldn’t have been easy jumping in after the first season.”

“yeah, it was really weird at first, but everyone was so open and kind, so they really made the whole transition so comfortable,” you say fondly, “i love everyone so much and i honestly don’t know what i would do without them.” as you say that, you see Bella’s face soften as they wrap their arm around you in a side hug.

“well, i hope that you guys have fun, and i’m sure that you will both be amazing,” the journalist says, closing up the interview.

“thank you so much,” Bella says.

“yeah, it was so nice to meet you,” you say with a smile.

“of course! it was a pleasure talking to you both,” she says, and you and Bella say goodbye to her and walk away.

once you find a small area away from prying eyes, Bella finally presses her lips to yours.

“you loveeee me,” you say teasingly once you both pull away from each other.

Bella hums in response and leans in to kiss you again. “yeah, and you love me back, so i think that it’s a pretty good deal, don’t you?”

and you do, so you pull them in closer, nodding your head, and kiss them again, both of you smiling into the kiss, perfectly content.

[girlylukehughes]

lake house takeover

ethan edwards x zegras!reader

ynzegras just posted!

liked by jackhughes and 726,814 others

ynzegras: summer on film! (shout out to jack and quinn for letting me steal your house for the last two weeks of august! i love you guys!)

load comments...

jackhughes: you're welcome! at least it was spotless when we got back unlike when i let someone else, *cough trevorzegras cough*, have it for two days.

^ynzegras: yeah he still can't work the dishwasher in his apartment jamie calls me just so we can laugh at him

^^trevorzegras: i hate you both.

trevorzegras: literally who's birthday was it

^ynzegras: no one's we just wanted cake

_quinnhughes: why didn't you have this camera for the first half of summer?

^ynzegras: i did i just wanted to keep my film for the girls trip!

^^lhughes06: lame 👎🏻

edwards.73: we need the film cam when you take media pics

^markestapa: i agree

^^dylanduke25: me too

^^^lucafantilli: me three

^^^^ynzegras: it'll be there

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ynzegras just posted!

liked by edwards.73 and 993,241 others

ynzegras: full summer dump!

tagged: trevorzegras, markestapa, mackie.samo, edwards.73, colecaufield, jackhughes, _alexturcotte, lhughes06, g.brindley4, _quinnhughes

load comments...

trevorzegras: WHO IS THAT

trevorzegras: YN WHO THE FUCK IS THAT

^ynsegras: shhhhhhh

^^trevorzegras: WHAT

lhughes06: oh you're bold for this one

^ynzegras: it's an arm🤷🏻‍♀️ he can't work a dishwasher i doubt he can go all fbi with an arm

mackie.samo: i still swear on everything a fish bit me that night.

edwards.73: markestapa mackie.samo we look so good here

^markestapa: we so do

^^mackie.samo: we really do

^^^ynzegras: i agree

^^^^trevorzegras: WHAT IS THIS

colecaufield: miss you baby z!

^ynzegras: miss you too!

_alexturcotte: literally how did you get that picture

^ynzegras: im the one you sent it to while you were wasted😭

_quinnhughes: i miss that coconut

^jackhughes: they were so good

lhughes06: out of all the pics you took that has to be the worst one of me and gavin.

^g.brindley4: i honestly don't remember taking that.

^^ynhughes: it's the only one that not blurry 😐

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edwards.73 just posted!

liked by ynzegras and 372,291 others

edwards.73: 🐄👦🏻

load comments...

ynzegras: well you know what they say!

liked by edwards.73

lhughes06: and what if i send this to her brother

^ynzegras: luke hughes if you so dare i will get my happy ass on a flight to nj and use the spare key jack gave me to beat your ass

^^lhughes06: you're broke how are you gonna get a flight

^^^ynzegras: trevor's still logged into american airlines on my phone it'll charge him

^^^^lhughes06:....currently replacing the locks

trevorzegras: hmmmmm

^ynzegras: go away

dylanduke25: a cowboy is a man, typically one on horseback, who herds and tends cattle, especially in the western US and as represented in westerns and novels.

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ynzegras just posted!

liked by markestapa and 937,217 others

ynzegras: save a horse!

tagged: edwards.73

load comments...

trevorzegras: luke you were supposed to make sure this DIDNT happen.

^ynzegras: funny story... me and ethan met BEFORE umich. we traded snaps when we were seniors in high school

^^trevorzegras: WHAT

^^^lhughes06: WHAT

^^^^markestapa: WHAT

^^^^^ynzegras: trevorzegras remember when you LEFT ME at that mall in canada? when i said i got an uber i lied, i met ethan and he drove me back to the airbnb

edwards.73: you're so pretty

^ynzegras: mwah mwah mwah

colecaufield: baby z pulls?

^ynzegras: i do!

user61: puck bunny

^ynzegras: fangirls when my first and only boyfriend plays hockey

^^user83: oh she cleared😭

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navigation



[mmmichyyy]

weekly tag wednesday ⭐

tagged by @heymacy @energievie @crossmydna @sgtmickeyslaughter @lingy910y 🖤

name: michelle

pronouns: she/her

what year did you graduate high school? 2010

tell me where you live without telling me where you live: the most expensive city in canada

tell me what you do for work: paperwork, reports, customer service

caffeine source of choice: english breakfast tea and matcha (coffee gives me a headache)

do you have a skincare routine? i've switched over to korean/japanese skincare and i'm still trying to figure out what products work for my face

how often do you do laundry? whenever i run out of clean clothes and sheets

favorite flower: tulips, daffodils, baby's breath

your go-to karaoke song: i can't reach a tune for the life of me but recently i've been blasting close to you - gracie abrams in the car

what kind of phone do you have? google pixel 6a

do you wear contacts/glasses? i wear glasses when i drive, watch movies in a theatre, or when i'm ordering at a counter and can't read the menu lol

what color is your hair right now? black but looks really dark brown under the sun

you’ve just been handed $10,000 cash, what are you spending it on? putting it towards savings & rent (see above re: living in the most expensive city) and treating my parents out to a nice meal

how many pets do you have? zero

have you ever been on a train? yes in multiple cities

and finally, tell me something about yourself people might be surprised to know: i smoked daily for around ten years from when i was sixteen and quit four years ago during the pandemic. every time i have a drink i think about smoking a cig but otherwise i don't really miss it

tagging @gallawitchxx @thisdivorce @gardenerian @heymrspatel @spoonfulstar @sam-loves-seb @blue-disco-lights @whatthebodygraspsnot @catgrassplantdad @callivich @sickness-health-all-that-shit @stocious @loftec @darlingian @jrooc @crestfallercanyon @suzy-queued @mybrainismelted @creepkinginc @palepinkgoat @burninface @deedala @deathclassic @vintagelacerosette 🌸

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 16

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Ventress is the following week’s featured speaker at the weekly seminar, and Satine gets to the lecture hall early so she can have her pick of seats. She joins Vos in the front row, placing her sweater over the seat beside her to reserve it for Ben, who is still at office hours.

“Hey, Satine,” says Vos with a grin. “How’s the book coming along?”

Satine waves at Ventress, who is loading her slides onto the presentation screen. Ventress nods in acknowledgement.

“Outline is complete, and it’s been approved by the publisher,” says Satine. “Which is a massive relief. And I’ve got solid first drafts of the first few chapters. I’m pretty much where I need to be in terms of the grant deliverables.”

“Kudos,” says Vos. “I mean, good for you, but I’d fucking hate to write a book. Sounds miserable.”

Satine laughs. “Sometimes I feel that way, too.” She nudges his shoulder. “Hey, I heard your master’s student scheduled her thesis defense. Does she want folks to attend the public portion to support her? Or would that make her nervous?”

“Aayla would eat up the attention,” says Vos. “So plan to be there.”

“Email me the details?”

“You got it, boss.”

Satine smiles. “Is she planning on sticking around to do her doctorate here?”

“I hope so,” says Vos. “But she applied to a bunch of programs, and she’s gotten some great offers of funding. She’s still weighing everything.”

“I bet you’re proud of her,” says Satine. “And you should be proud of yourself, too. Her success speaks to your skill as an advisor.” 

She thinks she sees him blush. “Nah,” he says. “I had nothing to do with her accomplishments. She could have done it all without me.”

Ben joins them at that moment, brushing a kiss to Satine’s temple. Satine moves her sweater so he can sit beside her. “I’ve been looking forward to hearing about Ventress’ recent work,” he says. “That’s what she’s presenting today, right, Quinlan? Her fieldwork from last summer?”

Vos nods. He opens his mouth to respond, but Dooku Serenno has already risen to his feet, stepping to the center of the lecture hall.

As usual, he begins his introduction.

Satine leans forward. She’s also eager to learn more about Ventress’ work. Though she’d done a deep dive into Ben’s research, she hasn’t had time to investigate her friend’s background as much, and she realizes this is something she must rectify.

Ventress, it turns out, had received one of the prestigious Fulbright awards to complete a portion of her dissertation research in Canada as part of her graduate studies. She’d spent her Fulbright year living amongst First Nations groups in the Arctic, and she’d received another impressive grant to fund a year with an Alaska Native tribe.

Even Serenno’s drawl can’t make Ventress’ life unimpressive.

Eventually, he returns to his seat, ceding the floor to Ventress, and the audience quietly applauds. Ventress doesn’t thank Serenno for the introduction, and Satine smiles to herself at this.

Satine quickly realizes that Ventress is the most effective public speaker in the department, and it doesn’t even take a complete sentence.

“A recent survey of Native youth found that sixty percent of respondents knew an Indigenous person who had gone missing or been murdered,” begins Ventress. “Such violence against Native people in the lands that are currently called the United States - the land that Indigenous people know as Turtle Island - is commonplace, so much so that we’ve labeled this epidemic as the Missing and Murdered Indigenous People crisis.”

She looks out over the audience, pausing.

“If this is a novel statistic to you, you are part of the problem,” says Ventress, flipping to her next slide. “Stanton described first eight, later expanded to ten, total stages of the process of genocide. The final stage - the final phase of genocide - is denial. This includes when past or ongoing genocides are forgotten, or never taught in the first place.”

Satine feels seen.

How many times has she had to explain to American colleagues what happened in Bosnia? How many times has she had to watch their confused or disbelieving faces as she cuts herself open, before she’s had a chance to heal, to explain what had happened in her country? How many times must she hear I had no idea from colleagues who should be smart enough to know basic international history?

Ventress meets her gaze. She nods at Ventress, who gives an almost imperceptible nod back.

“In the United States,” Ventress continues, “there are five hundred and seventy-four federally-recognized tribes. Others are state-recognized, and others still don’t have recognition at all. That means that the United States has committed genocide at least 574 times. In many cases, that genocide continues.”

She moves to the next slide, moving across the raised platform, from one side of the lectern to the other.

“In Canada, a several-hundred page report published five years ago acknowledged that the federal government had committed genocide and was continuing to commit genocide against its Indigenous peoples. The report included recommendations for reconciliation, but most of those recommendations were ignored.”

As Ventress pauses for a moment, it’s so quiet in the lecture hall that Satine can hear a colleague behind her taking notes.

“Genocide, of course, is not the focus of my research. But I bring this up to provide context. Beyond the structural violence that Indigenous peoples on Turtle Island face, there is significant physical and direct violence that we must survive every day. And for many of us, it is about merely surviving. This is often not a life in which Indigenous people can thrive.” She transitions to the next slide. “My work focuses on predicting locations of violence against Indigenous peoples so that each tribal community or village can protect itself, its people, and its sovereignty. I map so-called ‘man camps’ - transient camps of mostly male contract workers, building infrastructure like pipelines in rural locations. These man camps are associated with increased violence against Indigenous people, and Indigenous women in particular.”

Over the course of the next hour, Ventress details her methods and showcases the maps she’s created. Satine isn’t an expert in GIS - geographic information systems - by any means, but Ventress’ work is clearly, beyond any shadow of a doubt, exceptional. The content is triggering and hard for Satine to listen to, but Satine doesn’t for a moment think to leave.

Satine knows she’s a guest on these lands. This is the least she can do to honor the original caretakers.

It seems like she blinks and the lecture is over, with another round of applause. Satine remains seated as her companions rise to leave, and Ben glances her way, his expression telling her he knows the lecture must have been a difficult one for her to hear.

“Go on,” says Satine. “I’ll meet you in your office.”

He nods, and he and Vos follow the others up the stairs and out the door of the lecture hall. Satine stands and steps up to the lectern.

“Your talk was excellent,” Satine begins, and Ventress looks at her as she logs out of the computer. “It made me very grateful you decided to befriend me instead of declare me your enemy the day I arrived. The latter probably would have been easier to do, especially since our fields overlap slightly.”

Ventress grins at this. “I don’t start fights,” she says. “I only end them.”

Satine laughs deeply.

Ventress tucks her thumb drive into her pocket. “Listen, Satine,” she begins. “There’s an Indigenous artist market being held at the National Museum of the American Indian over Spring Break. Want to check it out?”

“I’d like that,” says Satine, nodding, and she follows Asajj up the stairs.

---

The next week moves too quickly for Satine’s liking. She blinks and Spring Break has arrived, and Ben has boarded a plane out of the District.

She’s proud of him for facing his grief. But she’s also not particularly looking forward to the time apart. They’ve been alternating spending the night at each other’s places, taking a load of things from her place to his every time they head to Old Town so that the eventual move is less overwhelming. She’s taken over a section of his closet and half of his dresser. She has a phone charger on her side of his bed.

So, naturally, her bed feels empty without him beside her.

Satine rolls over in the dark. Before Ben had left for the Metro to take him to the airport, he’d kissed her deeply and pressed a small metal object into her palm.

Taken aback, Satine had examined the key.

“The place will be half yours in two months,” Ben had reminded her. “So my spare key really isn’t all that much of a spare now, is it?”

“You just want someone to water your plants while you’re gone,” she’d quipped, and she held onto the way he laughed like it was a lifeline.

Now, Satine throws back the covers and stands, making her way over to her desk, where she grabs the sweater she’d stolen from him the night he’d first held her, the first time she’d cried in front of him in years. She slips it over her head and pads back to bed.

The smell of him is faint, but it’s still there. Pulling the duvet back over her, she succumbs to sleep.

---

On Monday afternoon, Satine takes two buses toward Capitol Hill. She’s finally put away her peacoat for the season, switching to a navy trench coat. The District seems to support this decision - peak cherry blossoms line the sides of the bus route, welcoming spring at last. Satine pulls the stop request cord, thanks the driver, and jumps off the bus outside of the museum on the National Mall.

The uniqueness of the National Museum of the American Indian's profile is immediately apparent, and the buff- and golden-colored limestone reminds Satine of natural rock, which she’s sure is intentional. Her eyes follow the lines of the building as they curve into themselves, reminiscent of waves or perhaps wind. Her first thought is that the building looks peaceful.

She breathes out.

The next moment, she spots Asajj, who is sitting on one of the stone benches outside, partially hidden by the beginnings of wetland plants commencing their spring growth. Satine realizes that the gardens, too, must have been planted with deliberate care, each species chosen for specific reason.

Asajj, of course, notices her before she approaches. She stands as Satine nears her.

“Should have figured you’d prefer to wait outside,” says Satine. “You can take the arctic out of the girl but…”

Asajj chuckles. “High fifties is practically tropic for me, even if it’s still brisk for others.” They begin to walk toward the entrance. “But for you, as well, as I understand it?”

Satine holds the first door open for Asajj, and Asajj holds the next one for her. “True,” acknowledges Satine. “Norway would have kicked me out if I complained about the cold,” she says with a laugh.

They open their bags for security and proceed through the metal detectors, and Satine steps to the side to take in the interior of the museum. To the left is the information desk, and everything in front of them is wide open space, a multi-purpose area that Satine guesses is often used for performances or lectures. Today, it’s filled with artist booths. Though the market doesn’t start for another half hour, the area is already bustling as the artists finish setting up. 

Beyond the market is a massive set of stairs leading to different levels of the museum, each floor with various exhibits.

Asajj glances at Satine. “Want to get food first?”

“You read my mind,” says Satine, and they wander to the museum’s cafe. Mitsitam Cafe, Satine knows, is famous for using ingredients indigenous to the Americas. Satine orders a manoomin - wild rice - dish and sits with Asajj as they wait for their food.

Asajj suddenly looks at her. “Do you ever find yourself wanting to go back?” she asks. Her voice is soft but sure. “To Bosnia, that is. Not to Norway.”

Satine shrugs. “Yes, and no. Sometimes I think I do. But I think ultimately what I want is to go back to an idea that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it never existed.”

Asajj nods. “Before…”

“Yes,” says Satine. “Before the fighting. An idealized version of what I left.”

Asajj breathes out. “I never knew that version of my village,” she says. “But I heard about it. The Elders…some of them had parents or grandparents who had known it. Who had seen it. I wish I had.” She breathes in. “So I understand. It’s why I don’t go back, I think. I mourn what I never got to see.”

Their food is set before them, and they thank the server.

Satine takes her first bite of wild rice. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe the work you’re doing will allow future generations to see it.”

Asajj looks off into the distance. “Perhaps,” she says. “If so, it would be worth it.”

---

The next morning, Satine goes to her usual spot in the library. Campus is empty, with most of the undergraduates and graduate students - and the faculty, for that matter - off on Spring Break. It’s a nice change of pace, though she admits to missing the chaos of a busy semester. It’s easier to get lost in.

Satine sets her jacket on the back of her chair and drops her bag at the work station, heading to the stacks in search of a text. When she gets to the call number, she frowns.

The book isn’t there, even though the online database had indicated it hadn’t currently been checked out.

“Looking for this?”

Satine feels her heart stop for a beat. She turns to face Derren Malek, who is holding up the book she’d been searching for in his tattoo-clad hand.

Satine doesn’t move.

The corner of Malek’s mouth turns up. “It’s been difficult trying to find you on your own since we last talked,” he says. “Your friends seem to have set up a system. Thought I’d take advantage of there being literally no one else in the library today.”

Satine swallows. “How closely have you been watching me?”

He’d known exactly where to find her. Had he followed her to this spot before? Had the presence of students been the only thing not stopping him from approaching her then? 

She curses herself, realizing her phone is back at the desk.

“Close enough,” says Malek. “Curious, isn’t it? You’ve had the undivided attention of two men this semester. Kenobi, of course, and myself. A madness shared by two, indeed.”

Satine clenches her jaw. Her thoughts drift to her and Ben’s conversation, back when he’s proposed their thought experiment.

“This is madness, though, you know,” she says.

“Folie à deux,” says Ben. “A madness shared by two.”

With a growing horror, she remembers the way the floorboards had creaked behind them.

“You were there,” says Satine. “That day.”

“The Secretary said you were smart,” says Malek. “I’ve come to have my doubts, however, considering how absolutely idiotic you’ve been when it comes to Kenobi.”

He steps toward her.

“Not that he’s been any smarter about you,” says Malek. “The Secretary has all the evidence he needs.”

Satine steps back.

“You’ve been recording us.”

“You made it easy.” He laughs. “The Secretary knew of your first weakness: your research. You’d do anything to protect it, and, thus, to protect your reputation to ensure your work can continue. But now we have an insurance policy. Because, as it turns out, the formidable Satine Kryze has not only one weakness but two. And the second happens to be Ben Kenobi.”

“Leave him out of this.”

“But you’ve brought him in! And that’s on you.”

Satine reaches out to steady herself against the stack of books beside her. “What do you want?” she hisses.

“To remind you,” says Malek. “You’re toeing the line. Accepting the invitation to speak in Paris in September puts you in a position to cross it. Depending on the contents of that speech.”

Satine glares at him. “The Secretary wants to see the speech before I give it.”

Malek laughs again. “Stupid girl. He wants to write the speech you will give.”

Satine shakes her head before thinking about it. “When hell freezes over.”

Malek reaches out to grab her elbow, gripping her tightly. Satine has to force herself to not gasp at the pain.

“Your career is not the only one at stake now,” Malek says. “You’re conspiring with Kenobi, a conspiracy that involves an arranged marriage while you’re applying for citizenship. I can’t imagine that’s something that USCIS will take kindly to hearing. Beyond the knock to Kenobi's academic reputation, that could doom him to an avalanche of legal troubles.”

He pulls her closer so that her body is flush against his, forcing the book into her hand.

“Toe the line, Ms. Kryze,” he hisses. “Your first step will be to ensure that Kenobi discerns nothing of this conversation. The second will be giving that speech in September exactly as the Secretary has prepared it.”

Ben’s name from his lips lights the fire that sparks the match, and Satine remembers her first few self-defense trainings. She considers what Ben, Asajj, and Quinlan have taught her.

Use what you have available.

Well, right now, what she has available is twofold: the element of surprise, and the book she’s holding with a death grip.

So Satine pushes the book upward with all her might, feeling it collide with Malek’s face and hearing the telltale sound of delicate bones crunching. She jumps back and races toward the staircase, grabbing her bag and stuffing her jacket and the book - now bloodied - inside while never breaking stride. Once she’s out of the library, she runs to the nearest bus stop and joins the line boarding the bus that has just arrived, checking over her shoulder to make sure Malek hasn’t followed her. She holds her bag to her chest as she finds a seat, trying to figure out where she's headed.

Mercifully, the route takes her toward her home, and Satine jumps off the bus only a few blocks away. Still checking behind her, she speed-walks to her condo.

She holds her composure until she's inside, shutting the door behind her and bolting the lock. 

Then Satine doubles over, wincing, finally letting herself vocalize her discomfort. But instead of picking herself up, she sinks to the floor, breathing heavily, dropping her bag to the ground.

Then she dials 911.

The dispatcher assures her a uniformed Georgetown University police officer is on their way and will arrive at her home within minutes. But as soon as Satine hangs up, doubt begins to seep in, and she hesitates.

Should she have made that call? Would it have been better not to report it?

She hesitates. The force with which Malek had gripped her elbow would no doubt leave bruises. It was technically assault, and she’d been justified in her response, knowing that it was possible he could become more aggressive. She knows his history.

But she also knows how these types of cases usually end, why women don’t bother reporting abusers. She knows the statistics, the numbers of women who make reports to police but who aren’t taken seriously. More than that, reporting Malek is likely to lead to retaliation from him - or, even worse - the Secretary. 

Had she just crossed that line that Malek had warned her about? Had she just ordered her own deportation with that phone call? And why hadn’t she waited for a clearer head before making the call?

In shock, she waits for the squad car to arrive.

Five minutes pass, and then five more. After half an hour without hearing sirens, Satine crawls from her place on the floor to the couch, forced to reckon with the reality that help isn't on its way.

She’d heard stories of the American law enforcement system. She can hazard a guess as to why the police haven’t arrived.

So she calls Asajj.

Fifteen minutes later, Satine opens her door to Asajj and Quinlan on her porch.

“Tell me everything,” says Asajj, stepping past her.

Satine rolls up her sleeve and reveals the purple bruises near her elbow as Quinlan shuts the door behind them and locks it. Asajj reaches out to take her forearm, studying it. 

Then she puts an arm around Satine’s shoulders and guides her to sit back down on the couch. “Call Kenobi,” she says to Quinlan, who reaches for his phone and steps into the kitchen.

“Malek followed me to the library,” says Satine. “It was the same threat he gave before. A reminder.”

Asajj looks at her with discerning eyes. “You didn’t call the cops because you’re worried that will make him escalate this threat further.”

Satine bites her lip. “I did call the cops. They never showed up, and it’s been almost an hour.”

Asajj lets out a sharp breath. “Judging by your tone, you don’t think it’s just because they triaged you to the bottom of the list.”

“No,” Satine agrees.

Asajj sighs. “There’s blood on your blouse,” she points out.

Satine looks down and notices she’s right.

“I’m assuming you managed to land one on Malek?”

Satine nods.

“Good,” says Asajj. “Did you break his nose?”

“Probably,” admits Satine.

“Even better. Look, if you’re right about the reason the cops didn’t come, you don’t need to worry about Malek reporting you for punching him. He won’t want to draw attention to it - because he won’t be able to explain his injuries without explaining what provoked you. But just in case…we need to take pictures of the bruising. And since I don’t see blood all over your knuckles, I’m assuming you struck him with something else? A library book? I’ll get Vos to see if he can find it after he finishes talking with Kenobi. Anything that leads credence to your story, if the cops eventually do decide to do their job and investigate.”

“No need for Quinlan to go anywhere,” says Satine. “I have the book. In my bag.”

The first traces of a smile cross Asajj’s face. “You didn’t check it out? You rebel.”

Satine lets out a half-laugh, half-sob, and Asajj grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch to toss around Satine’s shoulders.

“You’re too cold,” Asajj says. “You're coming down from an adrenaline high.” She moves to the thermostat to increase the temperature, then sits down next to Satine.

Quinlan emerges from the kitchen at that moment. “Kenobi’s headed back,” he says, and Asajj fills him in on what Satine has told her.

He cracks his knuckles. “We’re going to need to establish a schedule,” he says to Asajj, who nods.

“A schedule?” asks Satine.

"Like keeping watch,” Asajj says. “We’ll take turns. You shouldn’t go anywhere alone - on campus in particular - for a while. And Kenobi’s about to become your shadow, so you should prepare yourself.”

Quinlan takes a few steps into the living room. Into the silence, he says, “There’s a flight out of Madison in two hours. Lands in DC this afternoon. We’ll stay with you until he gets here.” He holds out his hand to Satine, and she realizes he’s holding a couple CBD gummies. “Kenobi told me which cabinet you kept them in; he figured you could use them.”

Satine takes the gummies gratefully. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

“He’ll text once he’s checked in at the airport,” Quinlan says. “I’m going to get some lunch for us. Any requests?”

“Something warm,” says Asajj, and Satine realizes she’s shivering.

Quinlan nods and slips out the front door. Asajj stands to lock it behind him, and then she moves toward Satine. “I’m going to grab you a different shirt,” she says. “Is that alright?”

Satine nods, not even really registering the question.

She’s vaguely aware of Asajj leaving the living room, less so of her coming back in with Satine’s sleep shirt. Satine lets her friend lead her toward the washroom, and Asajj steps out as Satine changes into the other top. Satine drops the blood-stained blouse to the floor like it’s on fire.

She follows Asajj back to the couch wordlessly, and they both sit together. Asajj turns on the television to something mindless.

By the time Quinlan returns with steaming bowls of pho, the CBD has clearly started taking effect. Satine manages to get down most of the pho, and she sets the empty takeout styrofoam on the coffee table.

And then she sinks back into the couch cushions and into blissful oblivion.

[cuttergauthier]

New Jersey One

Jack Hughes x Female Reader

This is chapter One of Four

Warning: Ex, fluff, cursing, Non supportive parents? Let me know if i missed any.

This has been in my draft for a while, I finally finished it.

word count: 1.7k

let me know what you guys think🤍

She was tired of the life she was living back home, the boy she loved broke her heart when he left to follow his dreams. She had gone to university in her hometown instead of going to the one of her dreams. Her parents didn’t want her to leave, but she couldn’t stay there anymore.

She decided to apply for a transfer to Columbia University, her dream university in New York. Thing is she hope she could stay away from her ex who moved away to New Jersey. New York and New Jersey are both big cities, right? There’s no way they would run it to each other, or so she thought.

Will her parents be mad at her for moving to New York, or will they be happy for finally living her dream.

Y/n wanted to start her own Clothing company, ever since she was 11 years old, she’s been designing clothes, planning outfits, she loves it and what better way to start her own company than New York. Now she’s 19 years old, still living in Michigan with her parents and a student at the university of Michigan, alongside some old friends.

She was ready to start living the life she wanted, not what her parents wanted. Even if that meant being closer to her ex-boyfriend, her first love. Her and Jack were childhood best friends, their moms were also best friends, so when they had kids, it was obvious they were also going to be friends. Her older brother James was the same age as Jack’s older brother Quinn, they had both played hockey together since before they could walk. Now Quinn, James, and Jack were all following their dreams of playing in the NHL. If her older brother could follow his dreams, why couldn’t she?

...

Today was the day I was finally going to tell my parents I wanted to move to New York. I have always wanted to go to Columbia University in New York, but when I had told my parents this when I was in high school, they told me it would be better if I stayed in Michigan and go to University of Michigan.

They didn’t want me to leave, even if they always encouraged me to follow my dreams. My older brother James was drafted in the NHL he moved to Ottawa Canada, since I was the baby of the family my parents didn’t want me to move away since they had already lost their first born.

Ever since I was 11 years old, I have always been drawing clothes, my dream was to start my own clothing company, my parents have always encouraged me to do so, they just didn’t want me to move away.

Columbia University has always been the place I wanted to be, I wasn’t happy being at Michigan anymore, I was miserable, sure most of my friends had decided to stay in Michigan after high school but that was their decisions not mine.

When I was 16 years old, I fell in love with my best friend Jack and he felt the same way, thing is when he’s an amazing hockey player just like his brother, so when he was 18 he was drafted in the NHL to New Jersey. When he moved to New Jersey so he could play for his team we broke up, I was going to be staying in Michigan while he was leaving, it was a mutual decision, but it still hurt when he first left.

When I got the letter saying I got accepted at Columbia university I was excited because my dream were finally going to be coming true, I was just afraid I might run in to Jack when I was in New York since we haven’t talk in over a year, but New York city and New Jersey are big enough I probably wouldn’t be running into him, but I was still scared.

I am 19 years old, it was time to finally do what I want to do, and to stop listening to what others want me to do. My acceptance letter came in the mail last week and I still couldn’t get the courage to tell my parents, thing is I had to let the university know before tomorrow morning, so my decision had to be made tonight. Christmas is a few days away, my parents are in a happy mood, what better time to let know I wanted to leave to go to Columbia.

I made my way downstairs to the living room where both my parents were sitting watching a Christmas movie with a fire on. I walked slowly and stop in front of them.

“Mom, dad can we talk” I asked playing with my neckless, It was a habit I always did when I got nervous.

“of course, honey is everything okay?” my mom asked worriedly

“No, everything is fine, I have some news I would like to talk to you about.”

“sure honey, you know you can tell us anything” my dad said this time giving me a small smile.

“I know since James moved to Canada, you guys didn’t want me to move away, but I don’t love the university of Michigan, my dreams have always been to go to Columbia” I told them

They both looked at each other, then back to me.

“If that’s really what you want, and if you really aren’t happy here at university, we can talk about you maybe going to Columbia next year” my mom said remaining calm

“That’s the thing… I applied for a transfer, and I got accepted, I need to give them my answer by tomorrow”

“what? Why didn’t you tell us this before?” my dad asked

“I was afraid of what you guys would say, this is my dream and I really want to go” I said, I really wanted them to understand that this was my dream university, it where I always wanted to be.

“We really wish you would have told us this before honey…” she said looking at my dad for some help then back at me.

“Please, mom I’m begging you, please say yes, this is what I want” I begged

My dad looked at my mom before looking back at me.

“We really wish you would stay here honey, but we understand, if this is your dream you should follow it. We have always encourage you and your brother to follow your dreams, were sorry we stopped you from doing that” my dad said resurging me.

“Thanks dad, mom?” I asked looking at her

“Does this mean you’ll be leaving after Christmas so you can be there for next semester?”

“Yes, I’ll be leaving December 28th if I say yes”

“Well if this is what you really want to do, then say yes” she said standing up and hugging me.

My eyes started watering; my dad joined our hug making us chuckle.

“We are so proud of you honey, your dad and I will come visit you, and you’ll be close to Jack again” my mom said happily

“Mom I haven’t talked to Jack in almost a year, I was away this summer, and I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him” I said nervously.

My parents along with his have always thought that Jack and I would be together forever. My brother and his thought the same, and honestly so did I, I’m just afraid of getting hurt. He’s a famous hockey player now, there’s girls everywhere wanting to date him, and what’s to say he didn’t move on, he could have any girl he wanted, why would he want me.

“I have a feeling you guys will run into each other” she said smiling.

Christmas had passed and it was now December 28th, the morning I was leaving for New York. My parents had told the Hughes family about me leaving so they were supposed to come over so they could say goodbye, the Hughes family are my second family.

I am going to miss them, especially Luke, he will be going to university of Michigan next year, the second he found out I was transferring to Columbia he texted me saying he was mad we weren’t going to be going to the same university next year, but that he was happy I was following my dreams. He was also happy that I was going to be closer to Jack same with his parent’s.

I was finally all packed up and ready to go, it’s only 10 a.m. and my plane is leaving at 2 p.m. so the Hughes will be here in a few minutes to say goodbye before I must leave to go to the airport.

“hello, were here to see our favorite girl before she leaves” I heard from the living.

I looked up and saw Ellen smiling at me, making me rush over and give her a hug.

“oh honey, I am so proud of you. Now I’ll be going to New York more often.” She said making me laugh

“Thank you, it means the world, I can’t wait to see you when you visit.” I said relishing the hug and going to Jim.

“Congrats honey, always follow your dreams” he said smiling

“Thank you, Jim,”

“I’m not going to miss you” Luke said, which made Ellen slap the back of his head.

“Awe Luke I’m going to miss you too” I said chuckling and giving him a big hug

“Please, go annoy Jack for me” he said

“I’ll think about it, deal?”

“deal, just know I’m going to ask every time we facetime” he said smirking

“I wouldn’t except anything else” I said laughing making him smile.

“I hope you have the best time in New York, and you better tell me all about it”

“You know it”

“Honey you ready to go? We need to get to the airport” my dad asked me

“Yeah, I am” I said happily

My parents dropped me off at the airport and said their goodbye and promised they would visit soon enough.

Just like that I was looking at down while we were landing in New York.

I couldn’t be happier as an uber driver was driving me to my apartment close to campus.