#sorry to the people who played the game i feel like i am intruding

[elenagoeslightly]

Through fingertips

the vamp babyboy had me writing after 5 years i can't believe this. the reader is gender neutral and i had the idea after volunteering as a guide for visually impaired people for years (which i loved was one of the best experiences i had with volunteering) which is not the same situation, obviously, but it made me think. I also didn't play the game so i am very sorry. ps this is not betad we die like men

"Looking at something?" Astarion asks, making you jump. You were just walking toward him, your head desperately trying to come up with an excuse to talk to him.

"How did you know I was here?" You were standing just behind him, there was no way he could have seen you, busy as he was finding himself inside a shattered mirror.

Astarion smiles as he turns around to face you, his fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

Oh.

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of lack of a reflection, mind you." The tone of his voice doesn't have the usual hilarity you've grown used to. There's a certain sadness to it that you find hard to accept.

"Do you miss it?" you ask, your hands wringing. "Seeing your own face?"

He scoffs, as if you asked the most obvious question in the world.

"Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

This is the first time Astarion has spoken about his past, at least to you. You can't help but wonder how he must feel, inhabiting a body he can't even see.

"What color were they before?" you try to be as gentle as you can, praying that he won't end the conversation.

It feels like walking on eggshells, and yet you can't stop.

"I...I don't know. I can't remember." his eyebrows knit together, as if he's trying his best to go back in time. "My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost." he adds, throwing the mirror on the ground in anger.

You breathe sharply through your nose and walk torward him; you only stop when you're so close to him that you can see the shadows that his eyelashes cast on his cheekbones.

"What?" he asks, looking at you like you're about to jump him, and not in a way he would be delighted by.

"I see you." you say, and his eyes turn large for a moment, surprised by such simple words.

He cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"And what do you see, exactly?"

When you were young, you had a friend.

A friend who could not see.

When the two of you were out on your little adventures, you would help her understand the shape of things by placing your hands above hers and guiding them, describing everything that the two of you would find interesting like the beetles of the ground, the skin of a serpent.

You would describe to her the shape, the texture, the color and all the details under those young fingertips.

There's a moment of hesitation before you take his hands in yours and the startled look in his face, his red eyes, makes you wonder if you should do this, if you really should get close to him.

He's a vampire, after all. A spawn, if you want to be technical about it.

But you can't lie to yourself, or hide the way in which seeing him suffer tugs at your heartstrings.

It's curse of being human.

And you want to help him, at least with this, want to alleviate centuries of suffering.

So you put your hands on top of his and guide them up to his face; the simple intimacy of the moment makes it hard for you to breathe, the silence overwhelming.

You start with the laugh lines around his mouth, one of the things you adore about his face.

"You have creases when you laugh," you say, and knowing Astarion you should have predicted his reaction.

"Excuse me?" the offended tone of his voice makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "I am an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother. You can do better."

Of course, your majesty you think to yourself.

"What else?" he asks, his breath tickles the palm of your hands.

You move his fingers torward his jawline, "The way your hair curls around your ears."

Astarion closes his eyes, as if he's imagining himself, piecing together everything you tell him.

Your marvel at the moment of vulnerability he gives you before one red eye opens and he states "This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell me I'm beautiful and we'll call it a day."

The exasperated sound of his voice and nonchalant movement of his hands makes you want to throttle him, but you know what he is doing; he's hiding in plain sight, as he always does.

But this time, you won't let him.

"Is that all you want?" you ask him. "Shallow praise?"

You can feel the way his jaw clenches under your fingertips.

"Hardly," he answers. "There's also gold, sex, revenge-quite the list, really. And failing any of those, I will settle for shallow praise."

You do not believe him, you know there must be more that he wants, but you won't push the issue, not right now at least. You want to give him the time to tell you all at his own pace.

So, you move his hands.

"You have a mole under your eye," you tell him, placing his index finger over it.

"A mole?" he asks, looking at you like you just revealed some concealed truth about the world.

"Yes."

You then take his middle finger, make it run over his nose.

"Your nose has a tiny bump in the middle of it."

Astarion hums, his eyes closed again. Your hands shake and you wonder if he notices, if he cares.

You move both his hands up, slightly gracing the lines on his forehead before going down.

"Your eyebrows form an arch of silver just above your strong, piercing eyes." you guide his fingertips, gently grazing upon his closed eyelids.

He leans in the touch and your heart soars.

"Your lips are full, but pale creating that dangerous smile of yours." You praise him, and you know that if it weren't for the close proximity you two are in, he would twirl around like a peacock, basking in the flattery.

You cradle his face, and he opens his eyes; you know this moment is about to end, and yet you feel the need to cling to it with all the strength you have.

"Thank you for showing me what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see." his voice is deep and serious and you can feel it echo in your ribcage.

You close your eyes and take a step back, your hands slowly moving away from his face.

Your face is on fire and you damn yourself over the way he makes you feel: like you're some sort of infatuated child, and not an adult who can fend for themselves.

The rawness of the way he makes you feel is unsettling.

"You're welcome." you finally answer, unable to look at him, your hand scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment.

You turn around, determined to make your way back to your tent, but his voice stops you.

"You didn't say it." he whispers as he looks at his fingernails with the same determination as a warrior gazing at the battlefield.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, confused.

"That I am beautiful. You didn't say it and you cannot leave me with this doubt, my dear."

You sigh.

Of course.

After all, this is what the wanted; to be flattered, to hear the words he wanted to hear. The fact that they came from you probably wasn't enough to make a difference.

"You are beautiful, Astarion." you say, your voice just above a whisper. All this ordeal tired you, and the only thing you want right now is to go to bed and hope the tingling in your hands stops.

"Observant." he says, the smile of his face unsettling. "Mirrors aren't much use but to be described through someone else's eyes? Well, I could do worse."

You look at him, one last time, as your hands open and close around nothing; his mask is up again, that big, mischievous smirk and dancing eyes hide him completely, like a cloak made of night.

"Goodnight, Astarion." you say, not brave enough to look at him one last time.

You walk quickly torward your tent, too quick to hear him say

"Goodnight, little love."

[mactavishsgfandwife]

saw that ur reqs r open, and i love all ur work sooo here i am lol

what would the tf141 boys be like w a reader who’s into horror? (i was thinking reader is like rlly sweet but loves playing horror video games or smth, but u can interpret it however u want!)

i can js imagine johnny freaking out when he sees reader playing like,,silent hill or smth. or resident evil 7 (can u tell im a horror game nerd lol)

but yeah! js a silly little idea i had, feel free not to write it if u don’t want to! have a good day, ily!

TF141 Watching a Horror Movie With You 🎃

hi omg this is such a cute concept!! thank you so much for the support, you have no idea how much i appreciate it! i have so many ideas for them with someone who loves horror movies so that’s what this post is about (i hope that’s ok :( ) but i’ll try to write about horror games another time because that’s such a cute concept! i just have lots of ideas for this one rn so i thought i’d do it first female reader, fluff, not proofread <3

Simon "Ghost" Riley thinks it’s cute that you love horror movies. He spends half his life in a real-life horror, he’s seen things that you could never imagine. Teasingly calls you a ‘psycho’ for just sitting there happily, cuddled up to him as you watch something absolutely terrifying go down on the screen.

Simon is a pain in the ass to watch certain horror movies with, because if guns or fighting are involved then he will make sure to point out to you exactly what the directors got wrong.

"He’s holding it wrong… if I even… Price’d never let me hear t’end of it," he mumbles, not talking to anyone in particular.

When you cuddle on the sofa, if you’re laying face down on his chest, he loves to keep one hand on your ass. Sometimes, if something does make him jump, he’ll squeeze it out of instinct.

People don’t usually expect it but you’re very good with scary stuff, you rarely ever get spooked out. But sometimes you do, especially if you’re tired and it’s late.

Once, after you’d watched a film, you went to get ready for bed and Simon went ‘to eat something’. Even when you were all changed and ready for bed, he still hadn’t returned, and so - twiddling your fingers together for reassurance - you peeked out into the darkened hallway.

Only for a 6'4" soldier in a skull mask, wielding a cup of tea, to jump out at you from behind.

You screamed, stumbling back in a state of panicked confusion, about to cry out for Simon when you came to your senses and realised that the masked intruder was Simon.

He stood there, laughing his ass off, until he realised that you were obviously very on edge and a little bit teary eyed.

"C’mere…" he sighed, placing down his tea to take you into his arms, "i’m sorry, baby girl, please don’t cry…" Your heart was racing and you were debating whether or not to slap him, but you knew he didn’t mean to upset you. And you were happy so long as he made up for it.

Soap Mactavish claims that he’s not scared of anything. Nooo, no way, he’s not scared. He’s so not scared that he’s looking away and squeezing your hand.

Poor guy is so easily jumpscared, it makes you giggle.

"You sure this i’nt going t’be too scary for you, bonnie?" he coos, placing an arm around your shoulder as he half-watches the film that has plunged into a strange silence. He’s definitely trying (and failing) to be subtle as he flexed his muscular arms a little bit, in an attempt to show off.

"Oh yeah, don’t worry," you nod sweetly, smiling up at him.

"I’m just saying, angel, if you need to bury your head into my chest, or if you can’t look, then that’s okay, you just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m a soldier, I could easily take on any- Shit! Fucking hell!" he jumps, squealing and then clearing his throat in a poor attempt to disguise it.

"You sure this isn’t going to be too scary for you, bonnie baby..?" you tease, kissing his cheek.

"Lay off it," he pouts, blushing a little bit as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

Alsoooo Johnny is a fiend for feeling you up when you’re watching a film together. He sees it as a perfect opportunity to get to know his pretty lass a little bit better.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick’s favourite part of movie night is the food. He loves takeaway (he’s definitely a Nando’s lover) but his absolute favourite food is your home cooking. When he was asked his favourite food when he was younger, he was always the one kid who would say "whatever my mum makes!" and now he’s an adult it’s just the same, but "whatever my girlfriend makes!" Whenever he realises you’re going to watch a film, whether you invited him or not, he will call out to you from the other room to "HOLD ON!" as he grabs snacks and drinks for the two of you.

Gaz isn’t too easily creeped out, but it happens. He’ll never admit that it’s because he was scared, but you’ve definitely noticed him ‘accidentally’ leaving the hallway light on. If it wasn’t an ‘accident’, then he obviously did it so that you wouldn’t feel scared in the night. He probably realises that you can see right through him, but you always say you believe him, just to make him feel better.

Kyle’s favourite horror movie series is Paranormal Activity, because it’s a so-bad-it’s-good kind of thing. He loves sitting in bed, eating popcorn, with you in his lap, laughing til you cry at all his jokes about how horrendously made the films are. Once, he was taking the piss out of how bad the film you were watching was and then immediately got jumpscared. He even let out a weird noise in shock - he didn’t hear the end of it for weeks.

Even if he’s not cuddling you as close as possible, Gaz loves to rouch you, usually by holding you with one arm as you rest your head on his shoulder. He is a serial thigh-squeezer.

John Price is a total dad, and that extends to when you can convince him to watch one of your favourite films with you. He wants to watch the movie, it’s not his fault if he falls asleep 15 minutes in every single time.

He lets you lay on his broad chest, that’s warm and rises and fall under your head, while he rests his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He’s prone to snoring, too - in past, you’ve had to rewind the film because you missed part of it while you were trying to get him to wake up and shut up. The only sureproof way to wake him up is to try and move off of him - he’ll open one eye and grumble at you, as he pulls you right back into him.

"You’re not even watching the film, you’re asleep…" you whine, looking up at him.

"’M watching, love. Shhh," he mumbles, eyes still closed as he softly pats your hair.

"Are not," you pout.

"Shhh. ‘M trying to watch this," he hushes you, eyes closed and totally ready to go back to sleep. You’re almost annoyed at him but he makes that very hard, breathing softly through that moustache as he presses you against him, like you’re a teddy or a weighted blanket.

In terms of the films himself, Price isn’t easily scared (partly helped by the fact that he spends half of the time asleep). The first time that you two watched something scary together, he was almost expecting you to be terrified, but he was pleasantly surprised when you weren’t. He thinks it’s funny how you can sit in his lap perfectly happy and watch something that would have any ‘sensible’ (as he puts it) girl screaming.

He either gets very irritated by the main characters making terrible decisions and getting themselves into trouble, or finds it hilarious. He also loves to rub your feet while you watch the movie, literal princess treatment.

i kind of want to watch a horror movie nowwww

all pictures are from the game or from pinterest as far as i’m aware

i hope this was ok for you!!! i know it’s not exactly what you wanted but maybe we can just consider it part 1 of the horror obsessed reader saga >:)

masterlist

[fandoms--fluff]

Not alone

Female vampire reader x Hope Mikaelson

Summary: Hope starts to have a mental breakdown and asks for reader.

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, pretty much it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything in Hope's view is turning swirly, making it hard for her to concentrate. It's been overwhelming, the malivore monsters appearing left and right and followed by nights with nightmares of how it's her fault that her mom, dad, and uncle are dead. Then everyone always turns to her when there's a problem, thinking she immediately knows what to do.

Memories are taking over again from her past. She broke her family apart and she's the reason three of her family members are dead.

Her head isn't allowing her to take a break, awake or not. And it's taking a huge toll on her both physically and mentally. She needs to rest, but every time she tries, it goes south.

She wants, she wants- she doesn't know what she wants, til one person comes to her mind; you. The only person who always stands up for her and tells people off for how they treat her. Especially Dr. Saltzman.

Hearing a voice calling her name, she zones back in. Her nails start digging into her palms, not wanting to breakdown in front of everyone who's in the room.

"Hope? Hope are you okay?" Josie asks, worried about her friend.

She shakes her head, "y-y/n, I want y/n" she mumbles.

"Okay, I'll go get her" Josie softly says, and stands up from the couch where she was sitting next to her.

Walking through the school's hallways, she sees you sitting with Pedro and some of his friends through the window, outside.

Josie walks out the doors and over to you. "Hey y/n, you need to come with me. It's hope" She says, causing you to pause the game you were playing with the kids.

"Of course! Sorry kiddos, we can continue tomorrow" You exclaim and stand up, getting nods from the kids and follow Josie over to where Hope is sitting.

As soon as you see Hope, you immediately vamp over to her.

Josie leaves you both, not wanting to intrude on anything personal that may happen.

"Hope, what happened?" You ask softly, worry etched on your face as you crouch down in front of her so you're at eye level.

She looks at you with tears in her eyes and her hands start shaking as she also shakes her head, not wanting to talk about it here.

"Okay baby, let's go to the room" you softly say while guiding her to stand up. You guys quickly walk back to your shared dorm room with your arm around her waist.

Walking into the room, you lead her over to the bed (which is both of your guys' beds pushed together) and sit side by side against the headboard.

"Am I a bad person?" She whimpers, looking up into your eyes.

"What? No baby, of course your not. Why would you even think that?" You bring your hands up to hold her face in your hands.

"I-I killed my m-m..." She starts before a sob wracks her body.

You pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her quivering form. You bring one hand up and place it on the back of her head, trailing your fingers through her wavy hair.

"Hope, I need you to listen to me very clearly. It's not your fault what happened and you didn't kill your mom, your dad, or your uncle. It's not your fault, it never has been and it never will be," you tell her and place a kiss on the crown of her head.

She nods into your shoulder, listening to every word you said. You feel a couple of her tears drop onto your skin and her arms squeezing around your torso, never wanting you to leave.

"It's not my fault" she whispers against your skin.

"That's right, it's not your fault" you reassure her.

Hope starts to even out her breathing as her tears subside. Someone's actually here with her, someone who doesn't blame her or hate her or scared she'll turn out like her father. Someone who loves her for just her, and no other reason than that.

Though that doesn't mean thoughts don't intrude into her mind, making her think it's all her imagination and if she looks the other way you'll dissappear.

"Y/n/n?" She murmers. "Yeah?" You softly speak, hearing the waver in her voice.

"You're always gonna be here, right?" She leans up on her elbows to look at your face.

"Of course I am, baby. Don't think for one second that I won't. I promise that you'll never be alone, I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what" you hold her face in your hands, rubbing away the dried tear tracks displayed on her cheeks with your thumbs.

"Always and forever?" She says so quietly that the only reason you heard it was because of your vamp hearing.

"Always and forever" you whisper back and place a gentle kiss to her lips.

She snuggles back in her spot, her head nuzzling into your chest, smelling traces of your lavender perfume. The scent starts soothing her into a peaceful state. At the same time your running your hands through her hair, knowing she loves the rhythm of your fingers on her head.

"Just so you know, next time Alaric brings anything up to try and win a petty argument, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he won't be able to sit for a month" you tell her in a soothing voice, making her giggle at how calm you are about what you just said.

"I don't doubt it" she says. "And you're going to get in trouble one day for calling him by his first name" she smiles, knowing your antics.

"If he wants me to call him 'Dr. Saltzman' then he has to earn my respect first, and he's not even close to it" you inform her, shaking your head at the thought of your guys' asshole of a headmaster.

"So I'm guessing never" she grins. "Correct. He's a jackass anyways" you kiss her head.

"Y/n!" She laughs.

"Hey! I'm just stating facts!" You laugh with her.

"You wanna know a secret?" You ask her and she nods her head.

You lean down to her ear and whisper, "I love you!"

She shudders from your lips grazing against her ear lightly. "I love you too" she smiles, never wanting to leave this moment

She nuzzles her head deeper into your chest, "we should stay like this forever" she whispers.

"Good idea" you say, wrapping your arms tightly around your beautiful and amazing girlfriend.

Safe to say, you guys aren't going to leave for a long time.

[psi-psina]

It's been like over a month and I need to just express my feelings about this scene because even THINKING about it is too much sometimes so I need to just write my feelings down 😞

I love this scene so much, I could honestly hardly breathe, i was genuinely unprepared for how hard it hit me. At this point in the game I felt a deep attachment to both Clive and Jill, and the bond between them. Playing as Clive, I found myself going around thinking of Jill constantly. Whenever I was running around helping people and doing errands and solving problems for them, I was often just longing to get it all done so that I could return to Jill and hopefully have her by my side again. This feeling also made me EXTREMELY attached to Clive (as well, of course, being quite in love with him). This game is husband & wife + pet dog adventure simulator for real.

So when this scene rolled around, I was so unprepared. I genuinely wasn't expecting something like this to be shown between them. This is the first time, finally, after dozens of hours, that we see Clive and Jill COMPLETELY alone together. Their nakedness and the starkness and OPENNESS of the environs serve to emphasize this so beautifully. I feel like this scene would not have had the same effect if it had been placed indoors, or in a place they could have been even theoretically intruded upon. The fact they are so COMPLETELY isolated and vulnerable by being so naked in this open setting makes the scene feel EXTREMELY private and intimate.

And the intimacy portrayed between them genuinely made me feel like i was watching something so private between two people that i shouldn't be witnessing at all. I've seen a lot of people say this scene made them cry but that wasn't the case for me at all. It made me a little breathless and I genuinely had to cover most of my face while watching it because it was so intimate and vulnerable. I felt like I was intruding.

You see Jill entrust her Eikon- her power & her pain, an enormous burden that is nonetheless a huge part of who she is and a difficult thing surrender - to Clive. Clive takes this part of her into himself and they then exchange deep, intimate vows of devotion, responsibility and love to each other while completely exposed and naked in each others arms. I'm sorry but the love, the deep bond of trust, respect and devotion they express to each other, in this scene especially, is almost unbearable. I am actually beside myself lol.

I'm not even going to start going into the broader symbolism and specifics in this scene and many others throughout the game because it pertains directly to the ending and I can't handle the emotional damage. that's for a long time in the future. like potentially years, or never lmao. bc there is one thing that i just physically can't accept and never will be able to sooooooo.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM HITMAN 2 *  assorted dialogue from the video game, adjust as necessary

at the location. no hostile presence.

tell me about the targets.

you know what we want.

i had such big plans for you.

you had a chance to walk away. why didn't you?

it comes back in flashes. fear. anger. but... like it happened to someone else.

i'm... i'm sorry for your loss.

you made this our fight. now let's even the playing field.

i'm breaking more rules than i care to count.

i remember everything.

that's the catch. the report is redacted. no names, no location.

so what am i missing?

i'll explain when i'm back.

it's a dangerous thing... having a conscience.

i spent a long time feeling guilty about that.

everyone hates power until you offer them some.

only one way to find out, i'm afraid.

i'm sorry you had to endure all that free champagne and cello music.

looks deserted.

is that a sense of humor, [name]? whatever next? crying at the movies?

oh, hell no. how did this end up here?!

think about what that means.

i swear to god, when i find out, you're dead!

we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

we need to know who we're up against.

this is our best lead in twenty years.

i say it's time we break a few rules.

no one's untouchable.

no more. i'm done.

so it's a dead end. i can't track them.

the breadcrumbs were almost too easy to follow. it could be a trap.

why are you doing this?

okay, i'm ready. let's get this thing fixed.

probably just some pitiful cry for help or some shit like that.

a great moment. i cherish the memory to this day.

plenty of spies went dark.

i have just the tool for the job.

i know what it's like to have everything taken from you.

i suggest you get rid of them, [name].

good aim.

what are we looking at?

like i said... it's a long shot.

how does he know about us?

we got what we came for. move out.

maybe next time, then?

it's the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.

this is exactly what the enemy wants.

you've seen the pictures, yes?

you should be able to jimmy open the garage door with the proper tool.

i'll call you after the presentation.

the house is just up the beach.

getting caught on tape is the last thing we need.

our intel indicates that she and her team are laying low.

for now, it's information we seek.

infiltrate the house and get us a lead on the shadow client.

up for some b&e?

oh my god! it's really you! it's such an honor to meet you!

on my way.

oh, could you fix me a cup of tea?

we got all we're going to get.

i thought this night would never end. what a snob fest.

according to the local home security provider, the house is equipped with multiple cameras placed around the perimeter.

why don't you search the pool area?

they could be out. could be lying low.

i see them. poor bastards.

i'm not a fool, [name].

she was never shy about collateral damage.

this feels more like identity theft.

what can i say? you really took one for the team.

nothing we can do for these people now.

don't worry. i've got this under control.

imagine what he would do to me if i messed up.

let me just grab a quick selfie with you.

improving on stuff that looks like crap probably isn't too hard.

there might be a concealed space behind the wall.

hurry. i'm detecting movement up the road.

they're back. multiple hostiles.

it won't make a difference. they're too powerful.

good. i will tell you exactly what to do.

take a deep breath and try again.

well done. now get off the property.

they're on high alert, combing the beach for intruders. proceed with caution.

someone will need to stop them. might as well be us.

no, i don't give a rat's ass about it.

i'll head up when i feel like it.

your so called "friend" is working for them now.

he's coming for us. and unlike you, he won't hesitate.

just get me inside.

we can't focus here, all right?

well done, [name]. this should be good.

i'm not as strong as you.

they have to pay for what they did.

it needs to stop. you... need to stop.

[dulcewrites]

Give A Little Help

This is the first installment of work in fmo k&q universe. Mainly Cassandra and Aemond as they navigate being king and queen. What that means for their relationship (trying for a spare), and their kids. If there is anything in specific y’all want me to write let me know. I do want to tweak I see the dance going in this universe, but I’ll have to think about certain outcomes. I also do want certain people still alive… idk who yet tho. If y’all have suggestions let me know.

Also I was inspired by this song while writing this.

When she was younger, Cassandra’s parents would make her play a game. At least, young her rationalized it as a game. She would come to their room, and they would inspect her dress. She always thought it was them making sure they got their coins worth. That the expensive myrish gowns were exactly how Cassandra wanted them.

But then the dress inspections concluded with the stick. The stick they would make her wear under her dress for posture. The first couple of times she cried at the way the wood dug into her back, but then it became a dull ache. A welcome jolt of pain.

Even when the stick was taken away, the rigidness of her spine stayed.

It was no longer a game the moment her parents shipped her off the court. It sure stopped being one the moment she wrote home about how happy she was about how kind Princess Helaena had been to her.

Lamb, I hope you are interacting with the princes as well. That is of the upmost importance.

It was never game. At least not one she ever wanted to play.

Her parents are gone, but the stiffness instilled lives on. Everyone else is gone, and the game plays on. It live out all around her.

“There is another dispute in the Stepstones.”

There are sighs across table in the council chamber. Cassandra’s eyes stay placed on the small ball in front of her. Fingers rolling it around softly.

“I suppose that we send men of our own to set up fortifiers in the stead,” Hugo pipes up.

Cassandra can’t help the mirth filled scoff that leaves her lips. She tries to play nice with her husband’s hand but it is to no veil. There is something she just does not like about him, and she is sure the feelings are mutual.

“Is something wrong, my queen?”

Yes, you.

She turns her attention to Aemond instead.

“Is involving ourselves in this truly what is needed in this situation? Putting lives at risk, and spending our coffers for what? Let them tear each other apart. The Triarchy always manages to fight then find each other again.”

“This affects trade in the Narrow Sea, and it also involves principality in Dorne,” Hugo rebuts to Aemond as well.

“Then we find other routes trade from till this is finished. Unless you have any idea where we would get the resources to involve ourselves. And Dorne? Really? Is this the way to usher them into the realm since everyone is so deseperate to do so; being on the opposite sides of a war… again,” she frowns at Hugo. “Because that has worked so well for Targaryens in the past.”

“Cassandra…”

She looks at Aemond, in slight disbelief.

“Let’s call it,” he sighs. “I will think about our options.”

“Your grace, I - ,” Hugo tries to start.

“I said, I will think about the options. Alone.”

Everyone gets up from the table except for Cassandra.

“Remind me why I have to be at these meetings again?”

“Cass, come on.”

“No seriously, remind why must I come if every time I open my mouth, I will get undermined.”

“You’re here because I want you in my coucil and I value your opinion, but y- ,”

“But what Aemond, but what?”

“You always start with him.”

“Ah, there it is. I’m so sorry that I am intruding on your marriage to Hugo.”

Aemond groans, sitting back in his chair. “The time I checked, you were all for the Northern inclusion. Creating bonds and whatnot.”

“Yeah, that before I found out he was a cunt,” Aemond opens his mouth, and Cassandra holds her finger up to stop him. “And before he so crassly, not so subtly tried to marry my young son off to someone up North.”

“Our son, and that was a joke.”

“Well, I did not laugh.”

“You don’t laugh at much anyway.”

Pushing herself away table, Cassandra gets up in a huff. He’s really not as funny as he thinks he is.

“Oh, don’t be like that.”

Cassandra doesn’t answer him, swatting his hand away when he tries to reach for her. Brushing her dress off, she makes her way towards the door.

“My queen.”

She stops just short and turns with a glare.

“What.”

“It is the fourth day of the week,” and for a moment she swears spots some warmth in his tone.

All Cassandra can do is nod. That is her job now; broodmare in a pretty dress.

That is of the upmost importance.

"And I switched over to sheep, and I think she likes it."

Cassandra tries to fight back a grimace watching Gaelithox chew violently on the raw meat. She is a lovely dragon, in all actuality. Smooth dark blue scales with the scattering of gold and silver streaks and dots on her wings; much like the night sky. Fitting of her name. But her beauty did little to appease Cassandra while in the dragon pit.

The only saving grace of Alaric's dragon at the moment was her size. Though grows by the day, her size is nothing compared to other dragons in the family.

"No need to worry, Gael likes you," he beams at her.

The only thing standing in between her being just like the sheep is her son, and she is quite sure of that.

"Maester Godwin told me you left your lessons early today."

Alaric's mouth scrunches up in a way that is entirely like his father. Haughty and annoyed.

"It is boring, and Maester Godwin smells funny."

"Gaelithox smells funny," Cassandra leads him out of the dragon pit once one of the dragon keepers takes over. Alaric looks horribly offended by the statement. "And you like her quite fine.”

"She does not....and if she did, she is allowed to. She is a dragon."

"My love, I just think it would do you some good to listen to Maester Godwin. He came all the way from Oldtown to teach you."

She must keep her tone even as possible. No point in pushing the situation. Pushing only leads to resentment, which is the last thing she wants. But Alaric always had loved his books and learning, it was surprising how adverse he was to the maesters lately.

"It is important that you are well versed in the history of Seven Kingdoms. From top to bottom. It will help you for the future."

"I do not understand why Daella can't just do it," he mutters it so quietly Cassandra almost misses it.

"Daella does have lessons. Hers are just different than yours."

"No, why can't she do the whole thing. She is older than me anyway."

Oh.

She makes them stop walking and pulls him into a corner. She doesn't even have to squat like she used to the speaker to her son. Much like his dragon, he grows by the day, and frankly it hurts her heart a bit. Grabbing his shoulder to make him to facing her, she sighs.

"You are your father's heir. Daella understands that. That is the way of things."

"I am not like him," he frowns.

"Like who?"

"Like father," that will be a relief in the long run.

Cassandra knows how much Alaric reveres Aemond. It is always on the tip of her tongue, the truth of it all. But she knows what it is like realizing your parents are not perfect; it feels like losing a God. Becoming unholy in a sense. There’s no use in ruining a perfectly good bond between father and son, not when these have changed.

"You are not your father, nor will you ever have to be. When the time comes, which is far away, you will forge your own path. The way all kings must."

She pulls him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. He still smells as lovely as he did as a baby. Fresh like lavender. "And on the bright side is, as king, if you want to make l Maester Goodwin smell to your liking you can."

Alaric squeezes her waist. "If he makes it till then."

With a bark of laugher, she pulls away.

"Alright, let's go see if Daella has annoyed Septa Melara into submission today."

The night before her wedding, Cassandra’s mother made instructions for one’s wedding night miserably clear.

“He will get on top of you and rut and rut in you,” Vera had drawn detailed pictures. Various positions as well. “Best think of something more pleasant. Like pretty dresses. Maybe bunnies or something.”

And when asked how many times she would have to endure such things, Vera gave a simple answer.

“As many times as your husband wants.”

Cassandra had shaken like a bird the moment Aemond started to fiddle with his belt. But both knew that they it had to be done.

It was their duty.

Things became better in department slowly but surely. Her mother’s insights only made Cass wonder what goes on between her parents, as crude as that sounds.

Then, of course everything went to shit, and it became easier to close in on herself. The few desires she did have extinguished quickly knowing Aemond wanted to receive that… comfort elsewhere. It was hard not to assume it was something wrong with her.

Her body almost becoming an empty vessel of some sorts. Now it must become a vessel for another royal baby.

A blessing. A privilege for you, she is sure her mother would say.

So, the fourth night of every week becomes a routine of some sorts. Right down the disgusting herbal remedy one of the septas offered to her. For fertility apparently. It does not help that she has Hugo sniffing around. Asking if things were going ‘well’ on assuring Aemond’s line.

Not hers. Not theirs. His.

Her voice is not apprieciated in the council room, but her womb is vital.

There is small relief in the fact Aemond, despite how he is like someone Cass has never met before and makes her emotions flare in a way she hates, is still a man. It takes little to rile him up these days. A flash of skin, the silk and lace of the Myrish night gown, the touch of his thigh. Complicated Aemond is simple and to the point on these nights. At times, if she forgets about the catalyst long enough, it is welcomed change.

But when Aemond arrives, he sits on the bed with a sigh. He does not take off his clothes, does not climb on top of her; he just sits with a shy look on his face.

“Do you want me on my stomach instead.”

She begins to turn but Aemond stops her.

“I hoped we could just talk for a moment.”

Cassandra blinks blankly.

“About what, Aemond?”

He shrugs. “About anything.”

Most of their conversation dissolve into tense silence or one of them just leaving the room. Cassandra gets up from the bed and over to the desk in the room.

“Do you want something to drink,” she sighs. “We will need it.”

She whispers the last part to herself. She doesn’t wait for Aemond’s answer, just pours him a goblet of wine. There is nothing she wants to speak Aemond about.

“I think one of my knights has fathered a child.”

Fuck. He knows what gossip does to her. She keeps her mouth closed as she sips on her wine slowly.

“With a married lady in court.”

When it feels like she may burst from not speaking, she shakes her head. “You’re lying,” she accuses lowly.

“Have you never noticed how much little Thomas Broom looks like Ser Peter?”

Cassandra thinks for a second before gasping. “The eyes!”

Aemond nods.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she takes a sip. “Lady Broom has been much nicer lately. And glowing. I thought it was first time mother bliss, but no it’s getting fucked. Lord Broom is twice her age as well as mean and surly. I remember when her parents married her off to that old bat.”

“He is also a proud old man. Gods forbid, he finally puts down the mulled wine and sees the obvious.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate that sort of thing.”

As soon as it leaves her mouth, Cassandra’s whole body tenses as she grimaces. Aemond’s disposition deflates instantly. That was another way their conversations ended; a cruel slip of the tongue from one to another.

She wants to apologize for derailing what seemed to be a promising moment, but she is also so sick of feeling like she must tip toe around the thing that got them here in the first place. Tittering a thin line between desperately trying to move forward and not wanting him to forget this was his fault in the first place.

Awkwardly, Cassandra clears her throat to change the subject. “One the stable boys left flowers for Daella.”

“What?”

Cassandra laughs at his disgusted face.

“Hmm, the one that takes care of her horse. Gave them to her the last time she saw Moon.”

“And why was I not made aware of this earlier?”

“Because you would have the boys shipped off somewhere.”

“Boys!?”

“Your daughter is beautiful inside and out, she was bound to turn heads,” Cassandra would like take the credit for it, noting the resemblance. But she is sure Daella will grow up to be far prettier and more effervescent than she could dream of. “But you know Daella, she pays little mind to it.”

Daella is almost infuriating independent in the way she moves in the world. It is nothing like Cassandra seen from a girl that age. She has not figured out if that is an unfortunate outcome of everything that has happened, or if it is the innate thing that most Targaryens seem to be born with.

The rest of the time divulges into a hodgepodge of court gossip to politicking.

“That’s a dragon rider’s flaw, you think you are invisible. Then before you know it, you have an arrow through your dragon. There are better ways to negotiate besides fear.”

It is not until one of the oil lamps begins to flicker out, that Cassandra realizes how late it is. She is tucked into her bed, Aemond’s eyepatch is somewhere in the room, and his hair is out the braid it had been in all day. He gingerly starts to get off the bed.

“I can’t drink like I used to,” he groans.

She watches him start to go to door. Something dances on her tongue and burn her throat.

“Aemond,” he turns with a tired look in his eye. “You can sleep here… if you want. It has been a long day.”

She had never allowed him to stay her room unless it was after their business had been taken care of, even then he normally opted to just leave afterwards. Avoiding strife that may come.

He doesn’t give a verbal agreement. Instead, he kicks off the shoes he just put on, and begind to take certain things off to get more acclimated.

“Stay on your side of the bed and do not put your cold feet near me,” she reprimands him as she blows out the candles near her. She watches as he digs the gem in his eye socket out. For the life of her, she still cannot figure why he continues to do it. She has a theory he enjoys the grandiose, dramatic macabre nature of it as he does the slight uncomfortableness.

The room is almost pitch black except for the fireplace beginning to dwindle and the moonlight peaking through the curtains.

“You will have to fuck me in the morning since did not tonight.” Cassandra wants the bed to swallow her whole realizing how that sounds. Not as assertively distant as she’d like. “Because the sooner I become with child, the quicker we can stop this, of course.”

“Right, of course,” her embarrassment only grows hearing the mirth in his tone. “Goodnight, Cass.”

She turns onto her side, biting her lip.

It really doesn’t matter where I stand with him. I’m going to be fucked in the head regardless.

“Goodnight Aemond.”

[thestarsarehaunted]

Please do tell us more about this haunted house character you played 👀 Was chickadee actually a stationary house?

I am always happy to talk about Dee!

17 Chickadee Lane is one of the oldest houses in its city. Many years ago, a witch (the ancestor of one of the other characters) made a deal with a devil in Dee's attic. The fiendish energies that clung to the structure have doomed all future residents to misery and death, often at each other's hand, as time spent in the house brought out the worst they were capable of. Over time, the house developed a dim sort of sentience. Its perception of humans was shaped by watching happy, loving families take up residence and inevitably descend into violence and tragedy. It gained a reputation for being cursed.

A resentment built up in the house's budding consciousness. These humans were intruders, parasites. From its perspective, they brought their own misery with them then laid the blame on its doorstep as if it had owed them happiness. Fueled by the deaths that occurred there, the house became strong enough to lash out with poltergeist activity. Lives were taken. It was abandoned and left to stew in bitterness alone.

Its historic status as one of the few remaining original homes kept it standing, but the only people brave enough to enter were the occasional thrill-seeker looking for a ghostly encounter. Most made it out alive; some were never seen again. Then Daniel came along. The house lashed out, as it always did. And Daniel said "I'm sorry." He said "Please." He treated the house not as a mindless evil but like a person with agency. It chose to let him go.

A short time later it learned a new skill; by siphoning energy from humans in its vicinity it could create a human projection to venture beyond its own walls. It remains tethered within its foundation, but a portion of its awareness can travel out into the city. It reunited with Daniel and his friends. They know its identity - it is familiar with secrets and lies as tools of humans but hasn't actually made the leap to "Oh, I could do that too" - but they treat it as as much of a person as any of them. It is respected and welcomed.

Dee's emotional intelligence is... underdeveloped. It can't express or even understand its own feelings beyond "I like this, I dislike that" - but it feels strongly nonetheless. It has seen great love and tenderness in its former residents and desires those things for itself, even as it believes that they always end terribly. It lashes out aggressively at anyone it sees as dismissive or disrespectful (don't intrude on its personal space - a house takes trespassing very seriously) but it clings to anyone who shows it the least bit of kindness.

Dee's human form has no standard appearance - it looks like an amalgamation of the last several people it pulled energy from to sustain itself, with an uncanny valley quality. It looks something like those "we combined 100 faces to find their average looks!" images. When using its poltergeist abilities - or when it turns its focus back toward the part of it still in its walls - it goes visually fuzzy around the edges, like tv static.

During the game it stole a dog toy to gag a vampire. It kept the toy - the first thing it has ever actually owned that wasn't placed in it by a human - and never put it down for the rest of the campaign. It finds the squeak oddly comforting.

[flythebanner]

Not even gonna bother type facing this one.

I need to learn to trust my gut a lot more, I didn't feel welcome, mostly because I wasn't. I was seen as an intruder. An invader of personal space of somewhere I'm meant to call "home." In reality, I was someone to help pay for something you couldn't afford, and I just ended up being someone who just "sucked the air" out of a room or whatever it was but, I got too comfortable and so here I stayed. Should have gone with my gut feeling and made sure this was only temporary, which is how it turned out to be anyway.

I'm glad the new lease came through when it did because I had been thinking about the excessive amounts of ups and downs over the last few months that were never acknowledged and more just brushed to the side. It got me thinking about moving out more than once, I ended up actually sending out requests for inspections on places. I should have followed up on some of them, I would have more than likely had my own place by now.

To bring up your suicide attempt and say that I have no excuse is beyond me. I had your WHOLE family relying on me to steer the shitshow circus that whole night was and the subsequent days, with constant check-ins and so on. The follow-on effects were a lot bigger than you thought. It's one of the main reasons why I almost lost my job and why I chose to quit when I did so I could receive my leave payout. Not only that, it bought up some extremely complex and hard to grasp emotions I hadn't felt in a very long time.

I know I have so much I want to say, but I'm being too polite, and I really don't know why. I need to start saying what's on my mind instead of just copping it. I just wish I could find better ways of saying things when I feel like I'm being cornered and not just stare at the floor trying to construct sentences that won't offend or cause any backlash. Turns out I shit the bed on that one because I felt too cornered, and for that, I'm sorry.

Ambushed with a conversation when I'm clearly busy, yet you've had at least 6-7 hours to say something. Why do you wait until I'm playing games or otherwise preoccupied to say something, and then get pissed off at me. What the fuck dude. I brush a lot of it off because I know what is going to be said. I know exactly why you're going to say it. But, I'll take the blame for the things I haven't done, that's fine. But coming at me so emotionally charged is just fucked, and I am not here for it.

I don't think people understand how very little mess I do make. Sure, that isn't the main issue here, I genuinely forget to do things a lot of the time. There's no excuse for that. I'm very much aware.

Fuck this place. I'm done. Get me out of here so I can be by myself and comfortable.

[whyispotatoheadalreadytaken]

So, living with Mattie has been fine.

It made me nervous and anxious the closer we got to her moving in because I worried we would hate each other by the end. It’s always a vulnerable process of inviting someone into your space. The first couple of weeks were mostly fine, but some moments have made me tilt my head a little. The first moment was when I found that Jimbob had taken one of his sqeakers out of one of his toys. I got it out of his mouth and put it on the table. Later on, I squeaked it, and he came running for his toy. I laughed a little because it was funny!! He was so confused because I didn’t have a toy; I was just playing with him while waiting for Zoë to change so we could go on a walk. Then Mattie looked me right in the eye and said, “I can’t believe you’re gaslighting him into believing you have his toy, hahahahahahahahaha” and I had a very strong reaction to that. And then it was awkward, so I went on a walk. I strongly reacted to that because I have been textbook gaslit my entire childhood. I wasn’t “gaslighting” my dog. I was just playing with him for a minute. It wasn’t a serious thing! But then I started going back and forth in my brain like, “But am I gaslighting him??? Am I a terrible person??? Alright, no playing tricks on my dog because I guess that’s not funny.” But it really bothered me. As a person who has been gaslit and works in this mental health therapy realm, I don’t use the word in everyday life. It is a serious aspect of abusive relationships. So, it really rubbed me the wrong way. No one is perfect, and we all have toxic traits, but I wasn’t actively trying to be shitty to my dog. But who knows, maybe it’s not a good thing. She’s also a social work major, and the fact that she’s so okay with throwing those words around is not great. I hope she figures that out when she starts a real job.

We had all of the gabies (gay babies) for a game night a little while ago and they all kind of talk like that which is concerning to me. It’s a generational thing. We’re swinging too far in the other direction now.

Anyway, so she just recently got a job-finally-so we will see how that goes. It was touch and go there for a minute with her and her spending habits. I tried to be as understanding as possible because I know I was really bad with money when I got out from under my parents roof. It’s hard to not get everything you want when you get that freedom. But she said she would help out will bills and stuff and that has not happened yet. But she’s been able to go to trader joe’s and buy her fancy cheese. Again, just another head tilt thing. And I’m not gonna be that person who is like give me your money because, again, I know what that’s like. It doesn’t feel good. I’m also not going to let her starve, so I’ve been actively feeding her. I’m happy to if she wants to chip in on a portion of groceries each week. It’s easier for us all to have the same thing anyway. With that, she’s gained a weird sleeping schedule cuz she’ll sleep until 1 or 2 and then is up past midnight. Jimbob is still not used to having another person in the house so if he hears ANYTHING he barks like there is an intruder. AND SHE KNOWS THIS AND DOES IT ANYWAY. She be like yeah sorry he keeps barking at me when I go to take a shower (AT ONE IN THE MORNING). Girl, you don’t have any responsibilities, shower in the morning when you aren’t going to wake anyone up!!!! That is common sense to me. So, I’m hoping with this job, that problem will fix itself before we need to have a conversation about it.

            She is young and right out of college and has been homeschooled most of her life and so she doesn’t have a lot of life/people experience. I also think she may be on the spectrum at the lowest level. With Autism, the mental health community is shifting from higher and lower functioning to different levels as to not shame or stigmatize lower-level functioning individuals, which I think is a good thing. The lower-level functioning individuals aren’t disabled, they lack the ability to learn social skills in order to be contributing members of society and hold a job. They are perfectly fine, just out of the realm of what society deems normal. They also aren’t completely incapable of learning these skills, but it takes years and years to teach and for them to understand and follow through with social rules and norms. Anyway, all of that to say, is that I think she would be on the lowest level, which would be the highest functioning autistic individual. Basic social boundaries and ques aren’t something she seems to pick up on. For instance, I went to try to clean my bathroom Sunday night and went out into the kitchen for a lightbulb and she was there and trapped me in conversation about something I don’t remember right now as I was actively getting the lightbulb out of the box while saying things like, “Yeah, I need this lightbulb because I feel like I can’t see anything and I need to be able to see to clean.” And she would respond by saying, “Yeah, that would drive me crazy.” And proceed on with her thing she absolutely needed to tell me. I had also told her I was cool to watch The Hunger Games if I could finish cleaning my bathroom before 9. It was 8:30 at that point and she was still just like not even cognizant of that. I didn’t finish cleaning until about 10 and then Zoë was like yeah we can still watch – as I pierce her with my murder eyes because she knew I had set a boundary and still was like whatever!!! This is fine!!!! I didn’t sleep until after midnight. I don’t know if you remember this about me but I turn into a monster without sleep. I become irate, angry, and have zero fuse. Getting sleep is really important to me probably because I’ve struggled with sleep what feels like my entire life. And Zoë has consistently trampled on my ability to sleep for nearly 10 years now. Love that for me. Another reason I am so afraid to have children because no sleep is very much so a part of that and I don’t know if I can do it. I’m already not doing it.

Then there was the La La Land night. So, I had made the tweet to rib you a little and mattie saw the tweet. She agreed with me and was like yeah, I wasn’t really about that movie. It was fine. But later on, I don’t remember how this came up but I had mentioned RENT to Mattie who told me she had never seen it. She went to say something about it and stopped and said, “Yeah, I’m not gonna say what I was going to say.”

And I about started throwing hands. I was so upset. I wanted to push back and be like, “Okay, what is it? What is wrong with it? Tell me what is so problematic about this musical that you won’t watch it?” But I was tipsy and knew if I did that then it would go too far. So, I shut up, checked out of the conversation and listened to RENT instead. Then I was messaging you and made a mess of that and I was so upset. I walked briskly into the house, jumped in bed, and started watching La La Land on my phone because Mattie had agreed with me that it was a bad movie. I wasn’t even trying to say it was a bad movie I had just remembered that it made me feel bad. Anyway. I started the movie, which confused Zoë but I wasn’t willing to explain when our walls are so thin. Turns out La La Land is a good movie, but I don’t like it because it’s painful. It’s too real. I had always wanted a movie that had an unhappy ending and then La La Land came around and I couldn’t handle it. I swore I’d never watch it again, but here I was watching it again just to prove a point. Turns out it’s more painful now than ever before! Love that!

            This younger generation has no idea what it was like growing up just 10 years ago as a queer person. They think they know, and they don’t. I didn’t have explicitly gay things like Heartstopper, stranger things, derry girls, Love Simon, atypical, grace and frankie, or even orange is the new black. The last of us wasn’t even gay until I was an adult. All I had was RENT, Tegan and Sara, and Ellen. Everything else was maybe hinted at in things like Fried Green Tomatoes or Frozen. I didn’t have what they have now. I didn’t have Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, Muna, Girl in Red, or any other big-name queer artists. I had I Kissed A Girl, which caused an upheaval in my life then. There were very few openly queer kids in school when I was growing up and zero when I went to college. The only reason Asbury even has a group is because of me and Kevin because I told Kevin that the initial one that Zoë, Jacob, and I had started was harmful because of who was leading it. So, Kevin (my therapist and head of mental health services) started an LGBTQ group that all of those kids get to have to support them now. I’ve never ever fought to receive credit for that. So, excuse me for taking it very personally when you insult things like RENT and Tegan and Sara, insulting the things that quite literally kept me tethered to this earth in a very real way. You don’t get to shit on the people who came before you who made society what it is today. Jonathan Larson didn’t create the masterpiece that is RENT as a form of activism for his LGBTQ friends who were dying all around him, only for him to die at 25, along with his activism for this generation to trample on the path that they paved. If you’re going to trample and invalidate the path they walked, you might as well be spitting on the path I’ve walked. I had no family, I still have no family. Those things were my family. And if I had grown up with all of the things you have today, I’d probably be with the person I was meant to be with. So, yeah, It’s personal. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t get to disrespect it. You don’t have that privilege. So, yeah. It’s been great. I’m not gonna pull the chick-fil-a card on her unless I really have to, but so help me god, I will pull it if it means that you stop riding this high horse as if you’re being a better queer person than me. WHICH IS SO STUPID WHAT DID I EVEN JUST WRITE UGHHH. But yeah, I feel old and like my entire life is completely invalid, so that's nice. I love that feeling.

[messers-moony]

One in the Same | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lover and desperately wants fix her faults.

“Mr.Malfoy, can you stay after class, please?” 

“‘Course, Professor Black.”

An average day in second year. Professor Black - Y/n - taught History of Magic after Professor Binns decided his time was up. Too long of teaching sleeping students who could care less about his lessons. However, once Y/n took over the position, kid's grades improved and people were no longer sleeping. She made things fun and inventive.

After class time was up, everyone filed out of the classroom aside from the blond Slytherin boy. Draco has always been on the good side of Professor Black. She was always extremely kind to him despite his rather sour attitude at times. But Draco was always hesitant to initiate a conversation to really speak his feelings to her. But this was the first time she had him stay after class. 

Y/n pulled out the chair in front of her desk as he sat down. His white-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. His young face, not yet defined. Y/n with her h/c hair and curious glinted e/c eyes. 

“Draco, I want to start this by saying I don’t know what your home life is like.” Y/n began, “I went to Hogwarts with your parents, though, and he wasn’t always kind. Your mother was cordial with me, though.”

“If you don’t find me intruding, what’s your home life like?” 

“I- Um- It’s good.” Stammered Draco, “Father and Mother are always kind.”

Y/n’s eyes glinted with curiosity, “Lucius tolerated me.”

“Tolerated you?”

“I married one of his best friends.” Y/n chuckled, “He didn’t have a choice.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sirius?”

“Oh heavens no!” Y/n exclaimed, “Regulus. Sirius Black's brother.” 

“My- My dead cousin?” He queried. 

She nodded, “Yes. I married Regulus right after graduation. His parents weren’t thrilled, but he loved me so, here we are.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were his parents like?”

“Horrible. The worst.” Y/n spat, “Sirius got the worst of it, but Regulus did occasionally too.”

“Walburga and Orion were awful. Using the crucio curse is not a great punishment for kids.” Draco’s eyes widened, “Both of them had scars from the curse. Sirius ran away at sixteen, and Regulus was used as their puppet. So used that at the age of eighteen, he felt like he had to prove himself. Which inevitably got him killed.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“Well, would you like my honest answer or my Professor answer?”

“Honest, please.”

“Between you and I, I still haven’t gotten over it.” Y/n shrugged, “I see something that reminds me of him, and I’m back at the start all over again. It takes time, and it’s taken plenty of time, but here I am, doing what I love. Teaching kids.”

“Anyways.” Y/n smiled, “You’re dismissed. I’m sorry I took up your time. However, if you ever feel the need to speak with me, let me know. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Draco picked up his bag, rustling as he stood up. The blond boy was still digesting all the information he gained. He couldn’t believe that his cousins got the crucio curse for a punishment. He thought his parents were bad. Theirs was way worse. Draco was about to walk out of the classroom but turned last minute to look at his Professor. 

“Professor?” 

“Yes, Draco?”

“There’s-“ He swallowed, “There’s a Quidditch match this Saturday. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. If you have the time, I’d like you to come.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Y/n smiled. 

He walked out of the room without a second stop. He felt better about himself now. He had someone who genuinely seemed to care about him. Draco didn’t trust her just yet, but he wouldn’t be opposed to speaking with her as he had just now in the future. Professor Black had always been open and honest with her students. Perhaps that’s why kids liked her so much. 

Saturday arrived quicker than Y/n would’ve hoped for one reason. She, herself, didn’t own any Slytherin-colored merchandise anymore. But there was a box in her quarters that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year. Regulus’s old clothes meaning all his scarfs, ties, button-ups, pants, hats, etc. Y/n couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Frankly, she didn’t want to get rid of them either. 

Carefully she pulled the cardboard box from the top of her closet. Taking a pair of scissors and breaking the tape seal she had put on it multiple years ago. Inside laid many pieces of the evergreen and silver cloth. Y/n’s hands gravitated to the green and silver scarf. Bringing it to her nose, she was shocked. It still smelt like him. Godric, this was going to be more challenging than she initially thought. 

Nonetheless, she put it around her neck along with her button-up and tight-fit pants. Y/n put on the green gloves, much too big for her but had fit Regulus perfectly, the tie, and the scarf. It brought her a sense of nostalgia. It made Y/n feel like she was a fifth-year going out with Regulus on a date to Hogsmeade. But she wasn’t fifteen or in fifth year. Y/n was a Professor and a full-grown adult. And Regulus was dead. 

The game was going well for Slytherin at the beginning. But like most Quidditch games, things can change rather quickly. Ravenclaw was studious. That was for sure. They played skillfully. Y/n sat in the Professor stands with the rest of her colleagues. She sat between McGonagall and Flitwick. But white-blond hair caught her attention in front of her. Lucius Malfoy was here spectating his son. 

McGonagall nudged her, “Where’d you get the Slytherin gear?”

“Regulus.”

“How have you been, dear?” McGonagall questioned softly, “It’s been a whirlwind, but nothing I can do will bring him back, so ‘m still here for him. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/n replied. 

Minerva placed a hand on the girl's knee, “If you need anything, let me know.”

“‘Course, Professor.”

The game ended tragically. Slytherin had just tied the game when Cho Chang had caught sight of the snitch. Sadly, she was able to grasp it before Draco. Leaving Slytherin with two-hundred and thirty points while Ravenclaw ended with three-hundred and eighty points. Lucius seemed furious with this conclusion and stormed off the stands. Y/n knew something was up, so she followed him. 

She came up in a deserted hallway in Hogwarts. Draco stood - now changed into the usual Hogwarts robes - and his father stood before him. From the view she had, Draco’s back was to her, and his father was towering over the boy. 

Lucius had a cold and icy voice, “You are insufferable!”

“You had one job, Draco! One! Catch the damn snitch.” He scolded, “Perhaps you were too daft to figure that out?”

“‘M sorry, father. I didn’t mean to. Honest.” Draco was pleading and begging for mercy; it made Y/n’s heartache at the familiar words. 

“Mum, Dad, I seriously didn’t mean to!” Regulus had cried after breaking a vase, “Excuses, excuses, they won��t get you anywhere in life, boy!” Orion shouted. 

Tears collected in his silver eyes, “‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!”

Walburga pointed her wand at him, “Crucio.”

Lucius scoffed, “Malfoy’s don’t cry, wipe those tears.”

“Should‘ve sent you to Durmstrang. You come to Hogwarts and forget everything I’ve ever taught you.”

“Father, I really didn’t mean to! She just got there faster than me.” Draco begged. 

Y/n saw it before Draco did. Lucius raised his palm slowly, and Draco flinched. Y/n saw the pale hand rise into the air, and without a second thought, she ran in front of the young boy, taking the blow that was meant for Lucius’ son. Draco heard the sound but never felt the impact. Carefully he opened his eyes to see Professor Black standing in front of him, a hand on her cheek. 

“How dare you get in the way!” Lucius yelled, “How dare I? How dare you for trying to leave a hand on your son!” Y/n retorted her bright cheek red from impact. 

Draco was appalled, “Draco is your son! Not a toy or a puppet, and I will not stand for this!”

“You don’t have to, half breed.” Lucius seethed, “As you said, he’s my son. Not yours.”

“I could give less fucks!” Y/n exclaimed, “Draco is my student. I will not be having you lay your hands on my students.”

Lucius scoffed, “Where’s your child, mm?”

“Right, you don’t have one.” Lucius answered, “Because your blood-traitor of a husband decided to get himself killed!”

“Regulus was not a blood-traitor for trying to right his wrongs!”

“Regulus and Sirius were no different from each other.”

“Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, so it’s still a soft spot for you?”

“So help me, I’ll-“

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco stated while holding his wand, causing his father to fall to the ground, paralyzed. 

Y/n stared at the body in shock, “Draco.”

She didn’t even have time to reprimand him before he burst into tears. Y/n turned quickly and embraced him into a much-needed hug while the boy sobbed on her shoulder. Y/n’s hands went through Draco’s white-blond hair gently while he let every emotion out. She pulled away and wiped the tears on his cheeks. 

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Y/n informed, and Draco nodded, “Th- Thank you, Professor.”

Y/n smiled and sent him off to the Slytherin common room, leaving her to deal with Lucius. The Professor dragged him to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. Later that night, in her quarters, while brushing her teeth, she noticed the considerable bruise covering her left cheek: Blue and purple hues mixed to create a dark blue-violet looking color, almost grey. 

Sixth year was now here. Y/n’s fourth year of teaching at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t have asked for a better job. On September 1st, she went through the floo-network to arrive in her teacher's quarters. Looking at the time, it seemed that students were just about reaching onto the grounds when a knock sounded at her door. 

“Come in!”

A blond boy, much taller, defined face, and grey eyes had just walked into her teacher's quarters, “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Draco.” Y/n greeted smiling brightly, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

Draco didn’t know where to begin as water collected on his lower lash line, and gently he pulled up his left sleeve. Godric, it felt like deva Vu all over again. 

“Y- Y/n.” Regulus called through his tears, “What’s wrong, baby?” Y/n asked, sitting beside him on the four-poster bed. 

Regulus couldn’t help the tears that helplessly fell down his cheeks. His eyes were silver and blurred. Cheeks flushed and hair knotted. This past summer had been a shit show for him with Sirius running away and just everything that had gone on. Regulus had never felt this hopeless before. 

“I- I need your help.”

“Of course, anything, baby.”

He swallowed, “Just know that I’ll love you forever. Okay?”

“‘Course.”

Gently, he released a breath of air and pulled up his left sleeve. The combined snake and skull only meaning one thing. Regulus was now a death eater to the Dark Lord. Tears sprung in Y/n’s eyes but not because of disappointment but because of worry. She didn’t know what she would do if Regulus were to be gone. 

“They forced me!” Regulus pleaded, “Please, please don’t leave me.” 

Regulus was weeping, and Y/n took him into her arms, “Shh, shh, I’m not disappointed. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this.” Regulus whimpered, “Please help me.”

“I’m gonna help you ‘m love. Don’t worry.” 

“What happened this summer?” Y/n asked as Draco pulled back down his sleeve.

“Auntie Bella.”

Draco was trying so hard to swallow his tears as his Professor was now face to face with him, “Draco.”

How was her voice so sweet and calm, almost like she had done this before, “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s being human. Let it go, darling.”

Just like that, the dam broke, and Draco was a sobbing mess again. How was it that Professor Black had always managed to feel more like home than his actual parents? What had his mum done for him while Bellatrix was giving him the mark? She had just stood there watching pain contort on his face. Y/n felt more like a mother to him, more like family to him. 

“Shh. Shh. You’re safe here, Draco.”

“They- They want me-“ He was choking on his words, and Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, “Take deep breaths and then explain. Okay?”

He began to inhale and exhale air at a slow pace, “They want me to-“ Draco swallowed, “They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Okay.” Y/n stated, letting out a breath of air, “You and I will get through this.” 

“You- You promise?” 

“I promise.”

Perhaps it was instinct now for Draco to stay after in her classroom. After every lesson, Draco would visit her in her classroom just to be in her company or to talk. What was it about Y/n that drew these people close to her? Ones with broken souls who believed that couldn’t be helped. Was it her kindness? Perhaps it was her caring nature—too many variables to pinpoint. 

The moment Y/n heard crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she knew something was wrong. Approaching cautiously, she saw Harry Potter doing the same behind Draco, who stood facing the basin, dried tears on his cheeks. Everything happened too fast for Y/n to understand. But when Harry spoke an incantation that left Draco bleeding out on the floor, everything changed. 

She was jumping into action hastily, falling to her knees beside the blond-haired boy while Harry was almost in tears at his mistake. Y/n took her wand out and began muttering spells to heal the boy's chest. Harry was now in a heap on the floor, tears filling his glorious emerald eyes while the Professor took care of his harm. It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped, and Y/n turned to face Harry. 

“Harry.” 

“‘M sorry. I- I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.” Y/n replied, and Harry looked like a mess, “I need you to go to the Gryffindor tower and not speak of this to anyone, okay?”

He nodded and stood up sluggishly. Harry left the bathroom, leaving Y/n with an unconscious Draco. Sighing heavily, she picked up the boy and lugged him to the hospital wing, where he was taken care of. The following day an owl was pecking at Y/n’s window, leading her to wake up and take the note from the owl’s foot. 

“Draco won’t stop calling for you.”

Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth, hair, and a change of clothes before making her way to the Hospital Wing. It was quite a ways away from. Her section of the school, but if Draco needed her, she needed to be there even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Her shoes made a light tap along with the wood as she walked and hesitantly opened the big door to the infirmary. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey said with her hand over her heart, “Draco has been asking for you, my dear.”

She gave a tiny smile as Pomfrey pointed to where Draco was lying. Carefully she stripped back some of the white curtain and pulled a chair beside his bed. Y/n took his hand in his. It was cold and pale. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine holding Regulus’ hand in the same exact way after a horrible Bludger accident. 

An hour later, Draco finally woke up, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Professor, you- you came.”

She smiled, “You called for me, of course, I’d come.”

Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, his grey eyes locked on her warm e/c ones, “Sorry, I just, didn’t expect you to come.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“I feel okay. Little sore but nothing I haven’t been through.” 

Y/n smiled sadly, “I knew a boy just like you, you know?”

“You did?” Draco asked, and she nodded, “I did.”

“Could you tell me about him?”

“Well, he was strong, smart, and closed off. His home life wasn’t too great either and was forced into being what his parents were too.” Draco looked eager for more, “Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. He no longer cared about his parent's approval. He just wanted to be him, but by then, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

She nodded, “He was already in too late, so he did the only thing he thought of. Betraying his parents, his family. He was so caught up in what he was doing he didn’t realize what he was doing, and now, because of that, he’s no longer with us.”

“But you aren’t too late, Draco.” Y/n stressed, tightening her grip on his hand, “Let me save you. Let me help you.”

Tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes, “Please.”

Y/n took him in her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “You aren’t alone. I’m here for you.”

It took months, but everything was over. It felt like time had stopped. Y/n could remember the terror standing outside of Hogwarts as the death eaters stood on the other side. Narcissa was calling for him - the boy who had no choice - and Draco was panicking as Lucius began calling his name. 

Draco swallowed and shook his head. 

It was the feeling of relief that brought Y/n solace. Draco took the step that Regulus took, and she would make sure he didn’t pay for it. The relief felt like a breath of fresh air now that the war was over. Y/n had stepped into the Great Hall panicking, hoping, praying that he was okay. At that moment she saw it. 

He was crouched in the corner. People were glaring at him all around. Draco saw. He saw the Weasleys crying over Fred. He saw Harry look empty, staring at Remus Lupin and Nymphadora. The way Lavender Brown’s parents sobbed over her dead body. He saw the way Dennis Creevey was yelling and screaming in pain at seeing his deceased older brother. Draco could remember how close they were. 

Nonetheless, he stood up and ran into her arms: his solace, home, and safe place. Draco couldn’t remember what it felt like to be held this tight. He dug his nose into her neck and just remembered to breathe. She pulled away to see a small smile playing on his lips. Y/n cupped his cheeks gently. 

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Y/n smiled, “I can't explain how proud I am of you. You did it.”

Draco smiled and leaned into her hands, “Thanks, mum.”

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

The Art of Not Falling in Love- Roope Hintz

AN: This is a piece that is very self indulgent BUT it has a plot despite being like 80% smut. I am thinking of making more parts if people like this 

Word count: 5k 

TW: like its smut.. so like what do you expect. (Wrap it before you tap it) spanking light dom!Roope female reader 

You could never quite understand how you got into this situation. You’d sworn to never fall in love ever. The pain of watching the gruesome divorce of your parents, the way your friends seemed to find “the one” left and right, only to be heartbroken, was simply too much. So you decided to simply don’t fall in love ever. 

And you’d kept that promise to yourself, ever since 15. Sure a few crushes came up now and then, but you never acted on them, and you made sure no one knew about the feeling. The only person in your life that knew about this promise to yourself was your best friend Jamie.

The first person you’d met in Dallas when you’d first moved there. You had been a freshman in college and he had been, ironically so, the first person to hit on you in Dallas, and you hadn’t even officially gotten there yet.  It happened on the plane ride. He was seated beside you and you couldn’t for the life of you remember the pick up line he used. You just know it was bad, cause you remember laughing at it and the way he tried to manage his long limbs into the airplane seat. It had gone uphill from there on, and you were glad he didn’t get offended by you laughing at him. 

Now, however, you were sitting in the stands of the American Airlines Center, watching him and his team scramble across the ice in a turnover, passing the puck up the ice. Roope Hintz picks it up and flicks it into the goal, just over the left shoulder of the Blackhawks goalie, making the Stars take the lead with three minutes left in the third period. The stands erupt in wild cheers and the team celebrates on ice. You jump with the rest of the crowd, and clap enthusiastically. Knowing that it’s gonna be an insufferable team to meet afterwards. After all, athletes tend to be after winning a game like this. 

The buzzer goes off and the Dallas Stars have officially ended their losing streak. The crowd is going wild, jumping up and down, making the stands shake just a little. Thats when you decide to sneak out of the stands and find your way to the outside of the locker room, where Jamie had promised he would meet you. 

You have been around a few times, and sure enough you find your way. Jamie had made sure to let the security staff know that you would be around after the game. There is a soccer ball laying around so you pick it up and start bouncing it on your jeans clad thigh, then dropping it down onto your foot and up again, alway in control. You lose yourself to the ball, concentrating on keeping it in the air, so much so that you don’t notice the door slamming open until the boom of it makes you drop the ball. 

“Jesus fuck.” 

You whisper as you look up to find the source of the noise. What you find shouldn’t surprise you, but seeing a shirtless Roope Hintz standing there with a frown on his face, makes heat rush up your neck regardless. 

“Who are you?” 

He looks suspiciously at you, taking in the skinny jeans and the absence of a jersey. As well as the forgotten soccer ball. 

“Sorry, just here for Oleksiak.” 

You try to shrug it off, looking for the ball again. His eyes squint suspiciously at you, but his head tilts backwards as he calls for Jamie. He comes bounding out of the locker room, shirtless, but fresh out of the shower. He’s in the middle of zipping up his game day slacks, and the smile already on his lips gets wider.  

“You could have waited with the others you know?” 

Jamie says cheekily to you. The heat to your face returns, but not in full force. You look at his tall stature and the smaller man beside him. And for some reason, the blonde star of the night is the one to make you look away. You shoot daggers at Jamie instead. 

“You know, you could have told me where they were, so I didn’t have to stand here like some other crazed fan.” 

Roope slowly turns around and walks away, closing the door with one last curious look directed at you. 

“Oh come on, we all know you’re crazy for me.” 

Finally you can feel yourself relax a little, with a sigh you take a step closer to him. 

“Yeah, crazy for you to leave me alone.” 

He wraps you up in his arms and lifts you up in the air, laughing as you gasp at the surprise of being lifted up. 

“Congrats by the way, you played well today.” 

You say to him, as he lets you back down on the ground again.  

“Thank you Sparks.” 

“Now go get dressed completely, I suppose you want to celebrate tonight?” 

His signature, tooth lacking smile is on full display as he slings an arm around your shoulders. Jamie looks at you with a mischievous look. 

“We really want to celebrate this, and besides, we really need to get you laid.” 

You wrench your way out of his grip and scowl at him, pushing him in the direction of the door to the locker room. 

“Get dressed you idiot.” 

You say with a flat voice, trying to remain serious, and failing when you see Jamie wink at you last minute. You immediately go back to juggling the soccer ball, as the door slams shut. 

A couple of girls are walking towards you, and you suspect they’re here looking for their boyfriends or husbands. That’s until you see the flustered cheeks and whispers of “I can’t believe we made it all the way here.” and the agreements that follow. 

Their eyes land on you and your soccer ball, and their expressions instantly sour. You try to shrug it off, but when the whispering starts again, you look up from the ball. You start getting suspicious when one of the three girls flicks her long, perfectly curled, brunette hair over her shoulder and opens her immaculately painted lips to say something. 

“You shouldn’t be here you know.” 

The confidence in her voice almost has you fooled for someone who belongs there. Almost. You’ve never seen her close to any of them ever, even if you had managed to stay out of the public eye yourself. Something about this trio didn’t feel right. You stop juggling the ball and drop it to your foot, catching it without bounce and then placing your foot on top of it.  

“Why not?” 

You ask out of curiosity of what the answer would be.

“Well, it’s reserved for the wags, you know, so you don’t belong here.” 

You tilt your head and raise a brow, questioningly. 

“Isn’t that what the owner's box is for? you know with reserved seats, food and really comfortable sitting options?” 

A blush seems to rise through her make- up and you restrain yourself a little, you really don’t want to make her an enemy. Just in case. 

“Yeah.. I just need to see my man before we head home.”

She stutters out, looking at her two friends who nod encouragingly at her. 

“Okay, just remind me who it is again?” 

You play dumb, knowing that the media is about to get out of the room in a minute. 

“Jamie ofcourse.” 

And her voice is so confident as she says it, you let a smile show before chuckling. They really thought they could fool anyone with that. Just in that moment, the door opens and cameras and notepads or tape recorders start filing out of the door. 

You walk over to the door, holding it open for the stream of reporters and crew. Then you duck a head in and yell for Jamie. 

“Oleksiak, your girlfriend is here…” 

It isn’t intentional all the way, but it comes out in a sing- song voice.  

The entirety of the team turns to face you. Briefly you meet the eyes of Roope, who’s still shirtless. Just as Jamie passes you by with a confused look, you tap his now clothed arm to make him bend down just a little.

“Ehh, so someone somehow got past security, apparently you’re her boyfriend.” 

You say to him, loud enough for the closest teammates to hear. 

“Jesus Christ, not again.” 

Jamie mutters. Stephen Johns is closest and has his phone in seconds calling someone. You let a glance out the door and see the girls huddled together, suddenly looking unsure. Jamie takes a look over your shoulder and sighs. 

“Guess I should distract them until security gets here, just stay here.”

You roll your eyes, but stay put. Then suddenly you realise where you are, feeling like an intruder. 

“Sorry guys, didn’t mean to intrude, just thought you should know about the girls outside.” 

You say, trying to not look too closely at anyone. You can feel the heat rising up your neck. 

“‘S alright, not everyday we get to know a girl from Jamie's side.”

Tyler Seguin says from his seat by his gear. 

“Oh I know, he has a hard time finding decent ones.” 

You say it absentmindedly, but the entire team seems to crack up at that. You feel a little bad, but you also know it as true and it's already said, so you can’t take it back. 

“Seems like he did alright with you.” 

Roope says as he pulls his button up over his arms and starts pushing the buttons through the holes.

“Ahh, a common mistake. Not a girlfriend and not sleeping with him either.” 

His brows raise and a cheeky smile forms on his face. But he doesn’t say anything else. You feel off, of sorts. He doesn’t irk you like the girls did. And it was kind of scaring you. It’s the feeling you get when you start being intrigued, and you don ‘t need that now.

-------

You’re sitting at the bar, alone, not that you mind it, because the girl who finally got Jamie had been ogling him all night and talking too loud, and it was a relief when you saw them walk out the door. He had asked multiple times if it was okay for him to leave, so much so that you almost drove the uber back to her place yourself. 

Staring down at the drink in your hand, you realised you were too sober and too far behind on studying (not really) to be sitting here, in a place you didn’t want to be. So you got up, turned around and immediately crashed into a hard chest. Looking up, you find a wild head of blonde curls and a heavenly cologne. Roope Hintz.

“Can I help you you mr. Star?” 

You said ask as he leans closer, if that was even possible, without touching you. He at least has the decency to chuckle and look a little bashful as you address him that way. 

“You sure you’re not even a little infatuated with Oleksiak?” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the bar and cross your ankles. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” 

You give him a flirty smile, just for the hell of it. Roope steps forward so his feet are planted on either side of yours, not touching this time either, and leans an arm beside you, making him come impossibly close to you. 

“What if I am?” 

He asks, and his eyes are roaming all over your face, ignited with a desire you haven’t seen in far too long. It makes a heat pool in your stomach, and a little in your cheeks. Just purely out of the close proximity. 

“Then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed.” 

You try to sound casual, but Roope leans a little closer.

“And why is that?” 

You can tell he is curious, and your judgement is compromised from the closeness of him. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“I’m a one time offer, an-” 

Roope doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, before he has your hand in his. Just as you touch it feels like a wave of something indescribable washes over you. You’d never felt anything like it. 

“I can do that. Come along now, we haven’t got all night.” 

Roope drags you away from the bar and you scramble to keep up the first few steps. When you catch up, he laces his fingers through yours, and heads out the door. It’s cold out, and since you haven’t really been outside today, all you have is the sweater you came to the rink in. You hadn’t been dressed for a club at all, but he didn’t seem to mind. You wrap your arms around yourself, to try to preserve some of the heat from the inside. Roope has a keen eye and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“One time offer, remember?” 

“Oh yeah, that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice, or no?” 

And as he pulls you closer to him, you can feel in your bones (and your lower back) that he isn’t nearly as nice as he’s pretending to be. And you catch yourself thinking that you can’t wait to see what this turns into. 

“Just, doubting what you define as nice, that’s all.” 

At that Roope, let out a little chuckle, before leaning down a little and placing small kisses on your exposed neck. He works his way up to your ear. 

“I can be very nice, it all depends on you though.” 

With a final kiss to your cheek, he steps away from your heated face, and looks at the uber that’s now in front of you, double checking that it’s the right one. How in the hell had you missed the car pulling up to the curb? Roope opened the door to the back seat and let you enter first. Then he entered shortly after you, told the lady driving the car his address and turned to face you. 

“Didn’t think you were that shy, sweetheat.” 

He gestured to the entire middle seat between the two of you. You just shake your head, with a coy smile on your lips. 

“Just been a while.” 

You say quietly, not wanting the driver to hear. Regardless, she looks at you, very discreetly, through the rearview mirror. You give her a reassuring smile trying to convey that you feel safe and that you’re okay. She gives you a wink in return. 

“I’ll make it worth your time.” 

Roope leads you into an elevator and punches one of the higher numbers, all the while his eyes are roaming you, mentally undressing you. Most definitely wondering what he would find underneath the sweater and jeans. You are absolutely feeling a little shy with the way he looks at you. However, at the same time you’re looking at him, wondering what he is going to do, if he will be soft or hard in demeanor, if he’s gonna be rough or boring, but somehow something in his eyes tells you, it’s gonna be anything but boring. 

The elevator stops, and he steps closer, taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and leading the way out of the elevator. Just two doors down he pulls some keys out of his back pocket and steadily unlocks the door, no fumbling. You take it as a good sign even if you already knew that he wasn’t even close to being drunk. The lock clicks in place and the door slides open, revealing a dark hallway. Roope steps in first and flicks on the light. It’s neat, considering what you had been expecting. The door shuts behind you, and you hear the lock clicking. 

Toeing off your shoes you turn and find Roope already staring at you. His eyes are considerably darker. He drops the jacket he had been wearing to the floor and beckons you with a finger to follow him, all silent and a little domineering, half a smile on his lips. You see the light flicker on in the hallway as you follow him down to the left and then the first door on the right hand side it’s the only open door, but it’s not fully lit inside. Carefully you step inside, when nothing happens, you take one more step in and the room is suddenly full of tension. 

The light here is turned on low, and Roope is standing in front of you taking slow steps towards you. Determined to stand your ground you remain unmoving, but your eyes roam him, and he seems to notice. With a smirk he takes a hand behind his neck and promptly yanks the shirt off of his upper body. You feel your jaw dropping just a little as you scan him over. 

“Look at me in the eyes babe.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you remain in your spot steadily holding his gaze. He takes a step closer, and then another, until he’s standing mere inches from you. A devious smile is playing on his lips, when one of his hands lands on your waist. His thumb rubs circles on your hip, just underneath the emerald sweater of yours. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

He asks, taking his other hand up and caressing your cheek. You nod your head yes. 

“I’m gonna need you to use your words for me.” 

The hand that’s on your cheek is suddenly forcing your face upwards to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sure about this.” 

You whisper, again meeting his eyes. Just as the sentence leaves your mouth, he immediately goes to kiss you, but you pull back just slightly, just to tease, and maybe test him a little. He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, and his smile widens.

“Oh you wanna play like that, huh?” 

Roope’s hands slip from your body, before meeting again behind your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. You stare down into his darkened eyes, and lean into him. He lets you kiss him for a couple of seconds, before he deepens it. You let him, not really feeling like fighting him. His lips move from yours and down your neck, as he walks towards the bed, you can feel him leaving a few hickies before dropping you onto the bed. 

“Off with the sweater, kaunis.” 

You look up at him, while crossing your arms and gripping the bottom of the sweater, letting him take in all of you as the green top comes off. Underneath is a simple black bra and you can see his pupils dilate at the sight of you. 

“That one I’m gonna take off myself.” 

He leans over you, until you’ve laid down flat on the bed. He’s hovering over you, resting on his forearms, yet his hips have already settled between your legs. You can feel him there hard and heavy. His breath playing across your collarbones, makes you feel the anticipation building in your entire body. 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before he starts leaving open mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts, he shifts his weight so he is leaning more on one arm and slides the other underneath your back, and makes quick work of unfastening your bra. The tension leaves the straps and you let them fall off. Then with his teeth he bites the middle of the bra, lifting it off your body and chucking it away with his free hand. 

“Upea.” 

You don’t question his words, honestly feeling a little more turned on as he speaks to you in a language you don’t understand. With a wink he kisses each of your tits a few times, before moving further down. 

“Still good?” 

He asks, and you feel your heart ache a little at it, and immediately shove the feeling aside.

“Yes, so good.”

You say, all out of breath as his fingers pop open the button, and slowly pull down the zipper of your jeans. In a swift motion he has his fingers in what you assume is the belt loops and has pulled down your jeans along with the black underwear you had been wearing. Instinctively you try to close your legs, but two calloused hands on either of your knees stops that motion. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Roope says as he leans into your right thigh and starts leaving kisses again. Closer and closer to your core, and when he finally is there, he switches to the other tigh, repeating the process. Your hands, which have been clenching the sheets, finally go to his long hair, tugging a little. Roope lets out a little groan and you swear you can feel it in your entire body.

“Aww, look how wet you are, all for me?” 

He asks in a husky voice. 

“All for you, all for you.” 

Roope seems to revel in the admittance rolling off your tongue, before he lets himself have a taste. At least that’s what you think is happening. You feel his hot breath fan over your core, and he is painfully close, you lift your hips just slightly to meet his mouth, just as he pulls away. 

“My bed, my rules. Now, you’re gonna have to ask really nicely to cum, before I let you. Got it?” 

You’re so lost in desperation for his mouth that you can only nod. You both hear and feel the sigh escaping him, before he lands a little smack on the inside of your thigh. It causes you to let out a strangled moan and clench around nothing. 

“Didn’t I tell you? Words.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll ask to cum.” 

And then he’s all over you. The pent up feeling you have in your body only seems to grow as he spends his time licking and lapping at your folds. With his arms around your thighs and eyes firmly set on yours, your body's working overtime trying to feel everything. You feel your grip on his hair tighten as his mouth finds you clit and a finger easily slides inside you. 

“Fuuuck, feels so good.” 

You draw out the vocals as he hums against you. Your breathing went uneven a long time ago, but now you’re struggling to control anything that comes out of your mouth. Especially as the second finger enters you and he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers, finally finding that one particular spot. It nearly sends you over the edge.

“Ah ah, ask first.” 

Your brain feels like mush as he continues his assault on your pussy. 

“Please may I cum?” 

Roope hums against you, before leaning away a little. 

“No, I want you to beg.” 

He goes back in, feeling the way your body is wound so tightly you don’t know where to turn, not being able to think clearly. 

“Please, I’ll be so good, just please please let me cum.” 

Again Roope hums. 

“Okay, only if you’re a good girl though.” 

He says looking up at you, with that smirk of his, before he dives back in.  You can feel the tension in your body tightening, and when his tongue does a particularly intense stroke over your clit you can’t hold it anymore. Your legs clamp around his head and you let out a drawn out moan of pleasure as he lets you ride out the high on his face. 

When you can’t take it anymore, you gently guide his face away from your core. Roope has this cocky grin on his face and you can’t help but like it being directed at you. You pull him up towards you and kiss him deeply, not really caring if you can taste yourself on his lips. Finally he lets your hands wander over the planes of his upper body, feeling the muscles tense and flex as your fingers trace every ridge of his body. He seems to really like kissing you, but he does notice that your hands go lower and lift his hips up a little to make room so you can pop the button of his jeans. As soon as the zipper is down, your hand traces the waistband of his boxers. 

“You gonna play with me like this all night, rakas?” 

He asks with a playful tone of voice. 

“Maybe.” 

You tease, pulling on the waistband of the boxers, before releasing it, making it snap against his skin. He leans away from you completely, getting up so he’s on his knees, but otherwise full height. Your legs are caught between his, so you can only sit up as far. Not that you mind though, with the way he towers over you, giving you perfect access to the bulge that’s now in your direct line of vision. Without really meaning to your jaw goes slack. His pointer finger is under your chin, making you look up at him.  

“Eyes up here, yeah?” 

You nod innocently at him, making him groan at the sight of you. 

“Good girl. Now let’s see if we can put that mouth of yours to good use.” 

You blush at his words and the smirk on his lips. Regardless, you start peeling the boxers and jeans down his legs. Slowly. Since this is going to be a one time thing, you think, you’re gonna savour this moment. His skin is hot beneath your fingers, but not as hot as your cheeks the moment his cock springs free of it’s confinement. You’re definitely not complaining about any aspect of it. 

Without a second thought you put your lips around the angry red tip, letting your tongue explore every inch of his dick. Roope seems to like what you’re doing, judging by the groaning and panting above you. One of his hands is in your hair, doing a makeshift ponytail as you continue to suck him off. Suddenly, he all but pulls you off his cock, which now seems even more red than it was before. With strings of saliva hanging from your mouth, connected to his dick. Roope lets out a groan that makes your inside tingle before he slides back off the bed.

“I’m going to ruin you so good, rakas.” 

He kicks off his jeans and boxers before he is over you again. You look him in the eyes nodding, before spreading your legs, letting him settle between them. He cages you in with his arms, and for some reason, even with his dark gaze upon you, you feel safe. And when he grabs your arms, pinning them beside your head you let out a content sigh. Not only because you’re completely letting go, but because you can feel his cock brushing against your stomach. The anticipation is almost killing you. 

Roope, kisses up and down your neck, whispering dirty somethings in your ear, because they aren’t nothing. They are all his fantasies, of what he has come up with that he wants to do with you. As well as to you. Most of all though, you think he just enjoys watching you squirm in need of him. When he lets go of your right hand, it traces your throat.

“Now, put my cock inside yourself.” 

It’s a demand, and you follow through, out of desperation to feel him inside. You wrap your hand around his dick, carefully tugging at him, running your thumb over the tip, teasing. With a little smile on your lips. Roope is quick to kiss it away, delving into you, with a passion you’ve never felt before. “Inside, now. Or this teasing of yours is gonna have some serious consequences.” 

He mumbles against your lips, so you do as told, guiding him to your entrance. You both let out content sighs as he finally sinks into you. He is going slow at first. Letting you adjust to having him inside you. 

“Look so good for me like this.” 

You can only nod as he starts moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts. He finds a pace and as soon as you start clenching around him, when he hits that part of you. His pace picks up. The hand that’s still holding onto yours, they are now intertwined in each other. His other hand is caressing your hip. You’re pretty much just a blubbering mess of his name and curses as he hits all the right parts. 

With a final kiss to your lips, he leans up a bit, so his thighs are resting on his calves creating a steep angle, so you almost slip off him. Almost. He pulls you closer by the hips, making you yelp out, before your legs are planted on either side of him, giving yourself a little more leverage as he hits deep inside of you. The moan that escapes you is genuine, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. At that you feel a sharp sting on your thigh again. 

“Eyes on me.” 

In the fog of pleasure all you manage to get out is a weak. “Yes, sir.” 

Opening your eyes, you see Roope straining a little as well. His cheeks are tinted and his breathing is really uneven. But his eyes are blown with pleasure, and as you guide his hand to your lower stomach where you can vaguely feel him moving in and out of you. It looks like a new fire has been ignited inside him. 

His hand slips from yours as he lets it go to rub at your clit again. The pleasure almost becomes too much, and your eyes roll a little at the feeling. 

“May I please cum, sir?” 

You manage to moan out, barely remembering his demand from before. 

“Hold it for like three seconds, I’m gonna count you down.” 

So you look him in the eyes and let him blow out your back for a few more thrusts, and then he starts counting down. 

“3”

His rhythm changes as he slows down and goes harder, deeper. 

“2” 

He moans as you clench around him. 

“1, cum for me.” 

And you do. It starts in your stomach, and like a warm tide it washes over your entire body. Roope fucks you through it, before he finally pulls out and with a loud groan he is jerking himself off, letting go in hot spurts all over your torso. He finishes and stares down at his personal masterpiece. With your rapidly raising stomach and chest covered in his cum, you can tell by the smirk on his lips. He’s satisfied.

“I’ll be right back.” 

Roope says with a wink, and you just nod. Because even though you just had the best sex to date, you were trying to gather your thoughts. On how to get home. You don’t see where he goes, but you hear water running from a sink. When he’s back from the bathroom, you assume, he has a wet  washcloth in hand and is wearing a fresh pair of boxers. Gently he wipes his cum from your chest and stomach, and a little in between your legs. 

And you’re almost completely ruined by how gentle he is. But you have a promise to keep, and you’re not planning on betraying yourself. He leaves again to toss the cloth into the hamper. When he comes back, you have gathered your underwear and bra, and are standing on the floor on slightly shaky legs. 

“You’re leaving?” 

And that was really the first sign. 

“Yeah, one time offer. Remember?” 

You answer, looking for your jeans. Roope sweeps them off of the floor and hands them to you. 

“Yeah, right.” 

You get dressed in silence, and when your last sock is on. You straighten up. 

“I’ll just find the way out myself.” 

It’s meant to be casual, but Roope immediately refuses. 

“No no, I’ll walk you out.” 

And he does, following close behind you. You’ve just gotten your shoes on, when your phone pings. It’s a notification from uber that your ride is here. You’ve put your hand on the door knob and opened the door, when Roope, who was leaning against the wall, pulls you back and kisses you deeply. 

“Next time you need an orgasm, give me a call.”

He says with a wink. 

In the car back to your apartment, you can feel it. You’re not gonna get rid of Roope after what just went down in his bedroom. The worst part of it is that you’re not sure you want it to be a one time thing. Fuck. 

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

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

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

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

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

“It’s Tim, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hi

It's 18 :)

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

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

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

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

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

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

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hockey tends to do that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you send those pictures you took today?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the numbers…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Mom, deal."

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

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

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

"You don't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Neither is french fries,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

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

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What what means?”

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

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

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

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

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

***

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

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Figured what out?”

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re okay, right?”

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

***

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

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

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

“Can you get to the point please?”

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

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

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

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

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

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

“I let people in--”

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

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

“How do I do that?”

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

Be honest with him

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

And that was scary.

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

So when are you getting in?

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

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

we’re friends?

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

good to know thanks :)

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

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

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

“Dani...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

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

“Y/n,”

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

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

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

“You’ll talk to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I don’t speak German…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next step was to really open up.

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If.

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

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

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

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

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[reminiscingtonight]

Instant Connections

Sara Lance x Ava Sharpe x Reader (Avalance x Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

@confusinggemini612 asked: Hey, I was wondering if you could do an Ava Sharpe x Sara Lance x Reader fic & if you're not comfortable writing a polyamorous relationship just a Sara Lance x Reader. Reader is recruited from Team Arrow & there's an instant connection. Please & thanks.

Warnings: Talks of Arrow canon-complicit deaths

A/N: Okay so this ask has been sitting in the back of my drafts for so long. But after what happened last night, you bet your ass I got started on this right away (also it’s been a fat minute since I watched Arrow so, excuse any mistakes that don’t go with the correct storyline). 

Taglist: @olsensnpm, @invictusbabey, @idek-5, @vancityfire13

When you heard the hum of the elevator, you simply ignored it. With only Oliver and Felicity left on the team, there weren’t really many people coming in and out of the bunker. So you went on with your task, collecting information on potential targets to keep an eye out for.

But an unfamiliar voice ringing through the bunker caught your attention.

“Who the hell are you?”

Your hand automatically drops to the knife on your waistband, flicking it out before spinning around.

The only thing stopping you from flinging it at the intruder was the knowledge that she would probably kick your ass and walk away without losing a sweat. You’ve never met the woman standing in front of you before but you’ve spent enough days over at Laurel’s apartment to know who she was.

“You’re Sara Lance.”

The blonde gives you a curt nod, still looking a little suspicious of your presence. Her hesitance was understandable, seeing as you didn’t join the team until after her departure. “Uh, yeah, I am. Who are you?”

“Right, sorry. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). A friend of… Oliver’s. And the team, I guess.”

Her eyes narrow at you and you fight the urge to take a step back as she walks towards you. The way she was eyeing you made you feel like prey caught in the sights of a fierce predator. “Uh huh. And where is he?”

Waving your hand in the air, you shrug. “Out and about, probably.”

“Felicity?”

“Knowing her? Somewhere out there trailing Oliver.”

“Diggle.”

Internally sighing, you knew exactly where this was going. “Spending time with his family.”

“Wilbur?”

You give her a look, eyebrows raised in amusement. “We both know there’s no ‘Wilbur’ on this team. Are you done giving me the third degree? Or do I need to call someone to prove that I’m actually a part of the team?”

Clicking her tongue, the former assassin gives you the once over before plopping down in the seat you were formerly sitting in. She kicks her feet onto the table and you have to remind yourself not to stare. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her. You’ve heard countless stories about the infamous Sara Lance. Most of it was from her own sister, but what you were told held no light to seeing her up close and personal. 

She literally oozed sex and confidence from every single one of her pores. And the smirk she sent your way let you know that she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

“Alright (Y/N), I’ll trust you for now. Tell me, what’s a person like you doing in a place like this?”

There’s a slight flirtatious undertone to her words and the inner fangirl in you wants to squeal in excitement. The more mature part of you simply rolls your eyes and paints an equally as flirty smirk on your face. Two could play this game.

“Ask me what you want to ask, Lance. After all, pretty people like us don’t have all day to waste. And who knows, if you ask fast enough, we could always go get a drink after.”

Sara seems momentarily taken aback by your playful banter, but she quickly snorts in amusement. “Okay casanova. Calm yourself.”

You laugh along with her, taking a seat on top of the table. You neatly fold your hands in your lap, signaling to her that you would behave. At least for now.

“A drink would sound nice, but I’m actually looking for the others. I tried calling but nobody was answering. And I was at Laurel’s but she wasn’t there.”

Sara doesn’t miss the way the smile falls off your face at the mention of her sister’s name.

“What?”

And it was then that you realized that Sara had no idea about what happened to Laurel. Your heart sinks and you feel the urge to throw up. It looked like you were the one that was going to have to break the news to her. 

“There’s this guy, uh, Damien Darhk.” His name tasted bitter in your mouth.

Sensing your hesitance, Sara throws a joke out there to try to lighten your mood. “What did he do? Steal your lunch?”

A chuckle escapes you but it doesn’t hit the air right. Sara’s hand lands on top of your’s, trying to soothe your nerves. Despite how right it felt, it doesn’t do anything to help calm you. “He broke out of prison and we tried to stop him. And Laurel… she...”

You could tell the second she figured out what you were trying to say. Her eyes widen, horror and pain mixing together in her blue eyes. “No.”

“Sara--”

“No, she can’t be gone.”

She pushes back her chair, eyes darting wildly around, and you stand up just as she makes her move to leave.

You tentatively drop a hand on her arm. “Sara--”

“I have to go.” Your hand is shaken off.

“Sara, wait--” You try to stop her but she pushes past you with ease. 

You’re left watching as the elevator door closes behind her, leaving you alone in the bunker once again.

So much for first impressions.

---

The next time you see Sara is years later. 

After Diaz’s rampage of the city.

After he successfully tore apart your newly formed family again.

The team is furious, watching as the federal agents click handcuffs on a pliant Oliver. 

“The bureau is going to stay in Star City until Diaz is brought in. But only if Oliver agreed to turn himself in.”

“You son of a bitch.” Shaking your head, you look at Oliver with disbelief written clear across your face. “Why would you do this?”

Whatever he was about to say is cut off as a familiar voice cuts through the air. “What the hell is going on here?”

You could’ve sworn you saw Sara’s face light up when she first spotted you, but as she takes her spot next to you, glaring at the federal agents, everyone’s attention is back on Oliver.

And then it was on the doctor who appeared behind Diggle.

Everything after that seemed like a blur to you. All you can remember is the feeling of crushing sadness when you heard that Quentin didn’t make it. The anger you felt when Oliver was led away. The pain you felt for the woman you barely knew as she was taken to go see her father.

While the team left to deal with the fallout of Oliver’s actions, you stayed behind, waiting for Sara to come back out. 

Laurel’s the first one to come out of the room, nearly stumbling to a halt when she saw you. As much as you wanted to blame the day’s events on her, you couldn’t. You give her a strained smile. 

“You okay?”

Her eyes dart away from yours, drifting to the ground. Picking at her own fingers, she nods. “Look, I’m sorry about--”

“Don’t apologize.” She seems shocked at the lack of anger in your voice. “It’s not your fault, Laurel. Quentin knew exactly what he was doing when he took that bullet.”

You knew it was more than just the fact that she shared the same face as his daughter that caused Quentin to do so. If he believed in her, then you would too.

“He took it for me.”

“Then repay it to him by proving to us that he did the right thing.”

She gives you a hesitant nod, and is about to say something when your eyes dart off to the side. Laurel understands immediately. She moves just as Sara exits the room. 

The blonde looks at the two of you, her blue eyes twinged red from tears. You can tell that she’s wary about the woman who’s wearing her sister’s face, but all thoughts of your best friend’s doppelganger goes flying out of your head when Sara suddenly tucks herself into your chest, arms wrapped tight around your torso as she shakes with silent tears.

Soothingly running your hands down her back, you whisper quiet reassurances into her hair.

Every time another shake would wrack her body you’d tighten your arms as your heart broke more and more for the woman in your arms. How could someone like her face so much loss in her life? At this point, every time the two of you met, Sara’s lost a family member. This wasn’t fair.

When her tears finally die down, Sara pulls away, rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.” Her words come out raspy and broken.

“Sara--”

“Why is my dad dead? And why has Ollie been arrested?”

Her icy blue eyes are fixed upon you and you want to ask yourself the same questions. Why was it that her father was killed by dangerous criminals roaming the streets? Why was it that Oliver, one of the only people helping keep this city safe, was being punished for doing so?

You let out a sigh, not being able to meet her eyes. “They’re cracking down on vigilantes in the city.”

“But you guys keep the city safe.”

Not safe enough. Your thoughts drift back to the man lying still on the table, never to see his daughter again. You think of her sister, another person you weren’t able to save. 

Shaking her head, she lets out a shaky breath. “I should’ve been here.”

“Sara.”

“Stop.” She holds her hands out to stall your words. “My dad is dead. And I wasn’t here to help.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

She huffs out in frustration. “(Y/N)--”

“I was here both times. And trust me when I say that if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.” You look away, not missing the way her blue eyes track your movements. You rub at your eyes, trying to will your own tears away. Taking a deep breath, you scoff at yourself. “I spent nights lying awake, because I couldn’t save Laurel all those years ago. And now I’ve failed again. Your father and sister were some of the best people I knew, but I couldn’t save them.”

Sara tries to interrupt you again, but the look you send her way stops her in her tracks.

“You're the captain of a time ship. You’re literally battling things beyond us over there. You spend every day saving the timeline while my only job is to protect the people of Star City. And I can’t even do that. So if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”

She grabs your hands, pulling you towards her and you freeze, breath caught in your throat. You could feel her breath fanning across your face and you have to shut your eyes to stop yourself from doing something you knew would be a bad idea.

You feel one of her hands rubbing at your cheekbone and you open your eyes to drown in ocean blue ones. 

“Don’t blame yourself.” The words are whispered out, almost as if she was convincing herself with her own words too. 

“Then don’t do it to yourself either.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart down to your lips. Or the way she seems to lean in towards you. 

Your breath hitches but you can’t seem to stop yourself either.

And right before you meet, she pulls back.

“I have to go.”

You feel like kicking yourself. “Sara--”

She shakes her head, looking at you with an indecipherable look in her eyes. “I have to get back to the ship.”

Sighing, you knew there was no convincing her to stay. “At least let me take you.” You couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. Again. 

It looks like she’s going to decline your offer. And a part of you desperately wants her to. But the other part that wants Sara to choose you wins when she gives you a small nod.

The walk to your car was silent. She kept fiddling with the rings on her fingers while you did your best not to think about the kiss you almost shared.

To say you couldn’t stop thinking about Sara would be an understatement. You didn’t know what it was, but ever since she left, she’s been the only person on your mind. So to almost share a kiss and then have her stop it with no explanation was more than disheartening.

When you get into the car, Sara sheepishly tells you that she never memorized the address of where she parked the dropship but she could give you the directions one road at a time. You bite back your light huff when you remember that Laurel used to do the same thing too. There must be something about the Lances that just made them not want to memorize addresses.

So you made due, one turn after the other, not bothered by the complete trust you’ve given the blonde captain. But eventually the silences dragged out, longer and longer until this time it seemed to have dragged out a little too long for your liking.

Risking a look over at the passenger seat, you want to laugh at the sight you see. With her head propped against her arm, Sara was dead asleep, the events of today seemingly enough to drain her of all her energy.

Seeing as you didn’t know where to go, you pulled over into an empty parking lot. 

You were just about to debate if you should wake her up or let her sleep some more when the soft sound of an unfamiliar ringtone played through the car. You quickly reached for the phone sitting in the cup holder before it could wake Sara up. It was only then that you saw how many missed calls the former assassin had.

Quietly sliding out of the car, you answer her phone. “Hello?”

“Babe? Thank god you answered. Is everything okay?” 

Your heart shattered at the pet name. Now her previous action of pulling back made sense. Of course someone as wonderful as Sara would already have a girlfriend. Even though you tried hard not to, there was always a little part of you that held out hope that the former assassin would come back to Star City and that you would get a chance to ask her out. It seemed like you were wrong.

“Uh, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a friend of Sara’s.”

You could almost feel the fear from the woman on the other side of the line. “Is Sara okay?”

“Physically? Yes. But emotionally?” Sighing, you glance back into the car. From where you’re standing, you can still see the dried tears on Sara’s cheeks.  “Look, I… I don’t know where you are, and I don’t know if you can, but is there a chance you could come to Star City? Quentin he, um…” the words stick in your throat and you find yourself fighting back your own tears. You didn’t think you could say the words. Closing your eyes, you change your sentence. “I think Sara could really use you right now.”

The sound of something zapping behind you has you spinning around. Phone still held to your ear, your mouth drops open when you see a woman dressed in a navy blue suit step through what looked like a portal. 

Hot damn. Not only did Sara get herself a girlfriend, but she somehow got herself a woman equally as beautiful as herself. With the tall woman walking over to you, you fight the urge to scoff at yourself. Yeah, you never stood a chance.

“Thank you for calling me.”

You shrug. “You did all the hard work. All I had to do was accept your call.”

“I’m Ava.”

Nodding, you take her outstretched hand. “(Y/N).” Your name slips out before you could stop yourself. You fight the urge to cringe. Of course she knew your name. You literally still had Sara’s phone in your hand.

There’s a sparkle in blue eyes as she also catches your blunder. 

There was something about her that captured your attention and you desperately told yourself to keep it in your pants. Crushing on a taken woman is one thing. Crushing on both her and her partner was just asking for trouble.

Noticing the still-worried look in her eyes, you point your thumb over your shoulder. “She’s sleeping. Kind of just passed out in my car.”

Ava looks past you and laughs when she spots Sara dozing off in your passenger seat. “Sounds about right. I gather you guys had a long day?”

You swallow the unease gathering in your throat at her words. There was no way she could possibly know what almost happened at the hospital, but you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying that she somehow knew. You give her an awkward chuckle. “Well, I guess you could say something like that.”

Noticing you shuffle from foot to foot, Ava gestures to the picnic tables not far from your car. “Do you want to sit and chat for a while? I think Sara could use all the sleep she can get.”

Despite every alarm going off in your head, you nod. The two of you walk to the table in silence, the crunching of the gravel under your feet the only noise in the air.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Was this a test? You really felt like you were being chastised a little bit. Or maybe warned away. You slowly shake your head.

“I’m Sara’s girlfriend.”

Well that much I gathered. This was one of the most uncomfortable things you’ve ever been put through and you find yourself wishing that you were with Dinah and the rest of them, dealing with the whole Oliver thing. 

“Look, I know that Sara cares about you.”

Your mouth wants to curl upwards into a smile at those words, but you tilt your head in confusion at the other woman. “We barely know each other.”

And that was the truth. The only other time you’ve ever talked to her was when you had broken the news about Laurel to her. 

Ava shrugs, seemingly unbothered over the fact that her girlfriend regularly talks about another person all the time. “Well she’s talked about you. A lot.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of Sara thinking about you, but then the sinking feeling in your stomach returns. You were talking to her girlfriend. There was no way you were walking out of here alive.

Almost as if she could sense your inner turmoil, Ava bumps your shoulder. “I’m not telling you to stay away from her. Quite the opposite, really.”

You blink, not sure if you were hearing her correctly.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you. Like I said, Sara talks about you a lot. And I can say that I see the appeal.”

What was happening? Your mouth drops open, gaping a couple times before you could get words to come out. “I’m sorry, just so we’re on the same page, what exactly are you saying?”

For the first time today, she looks a little shy. “Well Sara’s talked a couple times about maybe adding another person to the mix.”

“Another person… as in me?”

Nope. This was not happening. There was no way that the girlfriend of the woman you’ve been lusting over for a couple years now was saying what you thought she was saying.

But Ava nods. Nods as if the two of you weren’t casually talking about getting together despite the fact that you’ve just met her and have really only ever interacted with her girlfriend twice.

“I live in Star City.” You would slap yourself if you could. You had no idea why those words came out of your mouth. Out of everything you could’ve said in response to what Ava had said, you used the distance excuse.

“You could come with us.” Her response was almost instantaneous.

“Like… be time travelers with the two of you?”

She shrugs, giving you a sheepish smile. “I mean, I’m stuck at the Time Bureau. So you could always keep me company in DC if you don’t want to run around time with Sara.”

You let out a soft laugh before shaking your head. As much as you wanted to, there were too many things going on here. “I can’t. There’s too much left to do here. With Oliver headed to prison--”

“It doesn’t have to be right now.”

The way her blue eyes seemed to plead with you almost had you saying yes on the spot. But this was crazy. It was a totally crazy idea, right? 

You let your eyes drift back to your car, where Sara was still peacefully sleeping away. And you let yourself think about how the first time Laurel talked about her sister you felt an instant bond with a woman that you’ve never met. 

Ava’s hand falls on top of yours, almost as if she was testing the waters, and to both of your surprises, you don’t pull away. It felt nice. Almost as if it was always meant to be.

“I want to say yes, but I don’t think I can right now.” Not with Diaz still on the loose. Not with the sudden loss of both Quentin and Oliver. Your team needed you and you wouldn’t abandon them.

Ava nods, reaching into her pocket before handing you something that looks a bit like a watch.  “I’m not supposed to be handing these out, but this is a time courier.”

You nod, not really sure where this is heading. 

She smiles at your confused look and continues with her explanation. “This is a modified version of what our agents at the Time Bureau have. Original ones can take you anywhere and anytime you want. But this one only allows you to travel from place to place.”

“I don’t get to be a time traveler?” You’re not sure whether you should feel insulted or a little relieved at the fact.

Ava laughs. “You’re cute, but I can’t risk having you trying to change the timeline.”

Totally understandable. You’re not sure what you would do if you had the ability to travel through time. You might try to save Laurel. Maybe Quentin too.

“When you are done here, feel free to drop by.”

“And if it takes a couple years?”

She shrugs. “We’ll wait.”

Looking down at the band in your hand, you shake your head, not believing what’s happened to you today. The father of your former best friend died. Your “team leader” just got arrested. And now it seemed like you had two women promising to wait for you for as long as it took.

Your phone goes off and you look to see Felicity calling you. Sighing, you give Ava an apologetic look before picking it up.

But it looked like you had to deal with the mess here first.

[mrvelfan]

Sunburn

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: basically fluff, some kissing

authors note: this is my first fic ever, so please be nice and enjoy:) (gif is not mine!!! all credits to the owner)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY STORIES ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM. Reposts are appreciated.

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It was such a great day at the beach. Hot mid summer day, spent in a bathing suit, finally relaxed from all the Avengers pressure. You had gotten ready kinda early in the morning, not wanting to waste any minute of your day off. You bumped into Natasha returning to her room after her workout and after chatting for a bit, letting her know of your plans, she decided to join you. It was an opportunity to spend time together, so you both decided to invite whoever else wanted to come along. It resulted in Steve, Sam and Bucky joining you, which actually led to a day full of fun.

You were now on your way back to the compound with Steve and Nat in the front of the car and you, squeezed between Bucky and Sam in the back seat. Everyone was tired after a whole day of swimming, sunbathing and playing games so there was a comfortable silence and you were about to fall asleep. Suddenly you felt Bucky moving and grunting on your left side.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to move?” you said moving to your right thinking that Bucky didn’t fit. After all he was a pretty big guy.

“No no, I’m fine, I’m okay” he said with a half smile, shifting in his seat. You looked at his posture remembering that from the moment you got into the car, he sat very still, without his back touching the back seat. You could tell there was something off, but he looked rather uncomfortable and you didn’t want to ask him infront of the others.

Bucky was shy and quiet around the others, even though he was living at the compound for quite some time now. His room was next to yours, so when he had nightmares his first days here, you were always there to ground and comfort him. Since then you became really close, and you were one of the very few people he let touch him. It was honestly a surprise to everyone the first time they ever saw you sitting really close and he didn’t move away. You didn’t mind that he was always near you or touching you, because you realized that it made him feel safe. You liked the physical contact and the time you spent together, and little by little, your crush to Bucky developed.

You just nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. His flesh arm was pressed on your side, his hand on his thigh, so you felt his muscles tensing with every slight movement. It hurt you to see that he was in some kind of discomfort or even pain from the grunts that left his lips every now and then, but you let it go, deciding to ask him once you were alone.

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After about 30 minutes you arrived and once the car stopped everyone sighed because you would finally go to sleep. You gathered your stuff and started walking to your rooms talking about your day.

"I had a great time. We should do this more often." Nat said to all of you, stopping outside her room.

"Me too, it was a great idea Y/N. Didn't know you actually had these." Sam teased you before entering his room too, laughing and leaving you speechless.

"Did he really-?" You turned your head in shock finding Steve and Bucky trying to hold in their laughs.

"Yeap he did... and i can already see the wheels in your head turning, coming up with a way to get him back tomorrow at training." Steve added and started walking again.

"Don't you worry about that." You said with an evil smile hearing them chuckle again.

Yours and Bucky's room was right next to each other so after saying 'goodnight' to Steve you were walking in silence.

"Are you really okay? You looked strange on the ride back home." You finally asked him, stopping on your tracks outside of your rooms. He didn't answer and he looked like he was deciding whether he should tell you the truth or not. But your concerned face made him feel bad for lying on the first place.

"I um... I got a... I got sunburnt on my back..." he said looking at you to see your reaction. The frown on your brows became even more visible as you walked closer to him. His eyes never left yours as you reached out with slow movements and lifted his shirt a little, revealing his skin. It was red and looked sore, making you realize that this was why he wouldn't sit back in the car.

"Oh my god Bucky! This looks really bad." You looked into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to think of a way to help ease the pain.

“Don’t worry doll, it will be healed by tomorrow.” he shrugged and turned his body to open the door of his room.

"Listen, I have a gel that will cool down your skin and reduce the redness." You said and opened the door of your room, leaving some space for him to enter. 

“You really don’t have too” he said looking back at you. 

“Yes, but i want too. At least let me help you feel more relaxed, even for a few hours.” He hesitated for a moment, but the awful feeling of his shirt touching him was irritating and he couldn't wait to get it off.

He walked in your room and stood at the end of your bed, leaving his bag on the floor near a wall. You quickly shut the door, throwing your stuff on the bed and going into the bathroom attached to your room. Once you found the aloe gel, you walked back out seeing Bucky still standing looking around.

"You can sit on the bed if you want." You offered and waited for his next move. He sat on your bed softly, very close to the edge like he didn't want to intrude into your personal space, even tho you had let him in the first place.

"Can you please take your shirt off?" You asked with a soft voice,not wanting to startle him, knowing how self conscious he was about his metal arm and scars.

He slowly nodded, without looking at you, winching when he moved his arms to remove it, because of the pain. Once it was off, he put his hands on his lap playing with his shirt, too afraid to look up to you and see your reaction to his scarred shoulder. 

He was nervous. You could tell by his body language. You moved closer, sitting behind him so you faced his back. It was very red, especially on his shoulders and shoulder blades. You opened the cap of the tube and squirted some gel on your palm and fingers, before closing it and tossing it next to you.

“I’m going to touch you now okay?” you figured that it would be better for him if you told him exactly what you were going to do.

“Okay” he wispered, on the verge of tears, afraid that when you touched him you would feel disgusted by him.

You lifted your hands after barely hearing his response, and warned him that it would be cold. He nodded and you slowly pressed your palms on his back. You heard him hiss and shiver, but you didn’t move. He would feel much better after this.You spread the aloe all over his back massaging his skin, focusing on his shoulders were it was more sore. 

How could this have happened? He didn’t even take his shirt off nor he is burnt on his face.

You asked yourself after rembering that he wasn’t shirtless at the beach. You were totally fine with it, just like everyone else. Not one of you would pressure him into doing something he didn’t feel comfortable doing.

“Hey Bucky...do you mind me asking how you got burned, since your face is fine and... you didn’t take your shirt off?” you asked him and grabbed the gel bottle again to add more to your hands. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and hold back his tears so you wouldn’t suspect anything.

“No um...I actually took it off to get into the sea, but you were all sleeping... so that’s probably why you...didn’t see me” he said and shifted akwardly on your bed. The truth was that he actually waited until everyone was asleep, so he could take off his shirt for literally ten minutes, to get into the water.

“And i put sunscreen on my face so...yeah” he added and waited for your response.

“Why didn’t you wake me to help you?” You said concerned and slightly suspicious because you had an idea of why he didn’t.

“Like i said, you were sleeping and i didn’t want to bother you” he sat up after you told him you were done and looked back at you.

“Listen, i dont want to pressure you, but you know you can tell me everything right?” you crossed you legs looking at him and waited for his responce.He knew that you knew. After all you knew him really well to notice when hes lying.

He closed his eyes sighing and sat next to you on the bed. “The truth is...that...” he trailed off and you put your hand on his ,that was resting on his thigh, and squeezed it, as a sign to continue.

“...I just didn’t want anyone, and especially you to see me shirtless... to see my scars and remember that i am a monster.” He said and wiped a few tears that escaped his eyes.

You weren’t entirely shocked to hear that. Only because deep down you knew that this was his biggest insecurity and he wouldn’t open up to anyone about it easily, even if he refused it. 

“Oh Bucky...” you hugged him tightly, your hands caressing the back of his head. He wrapped his armaround your waist, hugging you back even more tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck and you felt some tears wetting your shirt. After a few moments you pulled back, wiping his tears stained cheeks, with you thumbs.

“I could never see you as a monster Buck. You are far from that. What you did all those years was not you...you are the kindest, most giving man I know who always puts himself first to protect others. I’m not disgusted by your scars Bucky and i will never be. They don’t make you a monster and they don’t define you. They prove that you are a survivor. And i know that you will see that one day too. But until then, i will always be by your side to remind you.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, looking straight into your eyes, until he finally did what you both wanted for a long time. He leaned in and left a soft kiss to your lips, staying there for a little until he realized what he was doing and quicly moved back and sat up.

“I’m so sorry about that! I’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable... i should probably leave.” he said quickly and started gathering his things.

You stood up and made your way over him, took his face into your hands and smashed your lips to his. He dropped he things he was carrying and put his arms around your waist bringing you closer so that your chests were pressed together. Your lips moved in sync and your hands make their way up to the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there. He licked your bottom lip asking for pesmission and when you opened your lips he slipped his tongue into your mouth. After a while you both pulled back and stared into eachother’s eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time.” you said biting your lip smiling, looking back at him.

“Did you now?” he chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Thank you. For everything you said about me. I really appreciate it. I really appreciate you.” he smiled and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Of course Buck. I’ll always be here for you.” you smiled back and looked at his lips again. “So...you wanna do that again?” you giggled.

“Absolutely” he smiled and leaned in again capturing your lips into his. His hands moved down to your ass giving it a squeeze, before hissing and pulling back because his back had just collided with the wall. He looked at you with furrowed brows, pretending to be angry because you had pushed him all the way back.

“Oops...”

[wisteria-imagines]

Wisteria Imagines - Kyoujuro × Innkeeper's daughter Reader (F) 

This was requested by @anonymous1710-blog who wanted to see some Tsundere Reader x Smitten Kyoujuro, I hope you enjoy!

 +++ Fire Pot-Sama +++

You weren’t the most respectful person in the universe, that wasn’t a secret to anyone. Your mother often chastised you for being a mouthy little thing, which - when being the daughter of an innkeeper - wasn’t the best trait to have. You tried keeping a lid on things when there were guests around, but some people brought out the worst in you. 

Case and point, the new residents your mother just checked in. They were demon slayers, which you honestly didn’t think was a real job, though your mother was quick to disagree. One of them in particular was kind of annoying. He was a tall man with the eyes of an owl and bright coloured hair, he immediately caught your attention the moment he entered the room. 

He seemed like an airhead, overly loud and positive. You doubt he could slay anything, he seemed too friendly for something like that. Your mother seemed to worship the ground he walked on, apparently he was a special demon slayer, but you didn’t buy it. You tried remaining civil, but your mother’s insistence on his greatness was starting to piss you off a little. 

One time though, when you were cleaning the empty rooms you stumbled upon one where the demon slayer was training in. He was shirtless, sweat making his body glisten, and boy, what a body that was. He was well built, muscles thick and toned, as though sculpted as opposed to earned. He was clearly skilled, and the way the light through the window hit his frame, he was truly breathtaking. Your mouth hung slightly, until his eyes fell upon you. 

You suddenly realise you were totally checking him out.

“Ah, (Y/n)-san! Can I help you with anything?” he practically bellowed. You also realise you didn’t know his name. He had that weird official title your mother called him, it started with a ‘h’ or something didn’t it? You curtly bowed your head.

“Uh… Sorry to intrude… H-Hibachi-sama!” 

For the first few seconds he was quiet. Nervous, you looked up and his cheeks were puffed with air. Finally he let out a great, deep laugh that echoed through the room. That was when you realised your blunder. A hibachi was used to store and heat food, it was not the official title of this demon slayer. 

“N-Not hibachi, hishi… Uh, hashi… Umm!”

“Kyoujuro.” He interrupted you.

“Huh?”

“My name is Rengoku Kyoujuro. I am the flame Hashira.” Hashira, was the word you were looking for. “But you can call me Hibachi-sama.” He teased. 

Your face was red with embarrassment. You hated this guy, and stupidly good looking body. 

You believed this was the last you’d hear of this man, however, for the next few days of his stay, he followed you like a lost puppy - or more accurately, an overly friendly puppy. 

“(Y/n)-san! How are you? Do you need a hand? What are you doing today? The weather is quite nice for a stroll, don’t you think?” 

He was becoming a nuisance. You didn’t know exactly what he wanted. He was being just a little “too” nice and helpful, he surely had ulterior motives. You played at his game, deciding to see where it would go.

“What do you want, Hibachi-sama? You’re kinda getting in the way of my work you know. There are other guests that need to be taken care of you know.” You'd taunt at him, though there was never any heat behind your words.

But regardless of your little jabs Kyoujuro doesn't falter the slightest bit. In fact he persists, and you slowly grow accustomed to his presence. 

One time you'll be in the kitchen unable to reach something high in a cabinet, and he'll saunter in asking if you needed a hand. 

"I don't know how well those eyes of yours work but that's too high for even you to reach." you say rolling your eyes.

He makes a thoughtful expression before getting behind you and hoisting you up by the hips as though you weighed nothing.

"There you go! Problem solved!" 

You spent a good ten seconds being startled, before reaching whatever it was you needed to grab. He placed you down gently, and you huffed, ignoring the blush on your cheeks.

"What is your game?!"

"Huh?"

"This goody, goody routine you're spinning. I don't buy it for one second, so what is it you want from me?"

You turn to face him only to realise he was still very close to you, you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Again you were met with another thoughtful expression before he smiles, leaning in slightly.

"I want to spend time with you, though kissing you would be better." He said shamelessly. 

Your brain short circuited. 

You would blush and stammer before turning your head away with a huff.

"Stupid, Hibachi-sama! You think just cause you're cute you'll get a kiss off me? Dream on." 

"So you think I'm cute then?" He beamed.

You scoffed as you moved away from not daring to look back, because you knew if you looked at him for any long you wouldn't be able to stop.

"You're not ugly, Hibachi-sama." You said finally.

He blushed, beaming at you. It felt like sunshine was bathing your back.

"I like you too (Y/n)!"

Send in your reader x pillar requests and you just might get chosen!

[dhwty-writes]

On the Benefits of Trancing

This is a bit late, but was in fact written for Day 2 of sgtober, Can't Sleep. It's very fluffy, have fun reading! 

Summary: There are several reasons why Essek prefers trancing over sleeping. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And no matter if they are foul or fair, they torture him all the same. And lastly, well—.Essek reminisces about the strange habit of sleeping and his even stranger habit of sharing his bed with Caleb whenever he can't sleep.

Warnings: None, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

Sleep is a curious thing, Essek muses, that he doesn't understand and hasn't particularly cared for up until this point. It is a childish thing, and wild and vulnerable and oh-so terribly time consuming. Truth be told, for most of his life he has pitied the other races who are forced to bow to the whims of nature in that way.

Like so many things, that changed when he met the Mighty Nein. Well, not when he met them necessarily—back then he may or may not have been quietly plotting their demise for returning his carefully stolen beacons—but certainly when he started travelling with them.

As many aspects of elven cultures are, trancing is a solitary activity, a silent contemplation of one's most private thoughts to better cope with them. Shock and surprise don't even begin to cover his feelings when Caleb first cast his dome and Essek found out that sleeping, as many things for the Mighty Nein, is a rather communal event.

He had eight whole hours to come to terms with those implications—did they not realise what it meant, the trust one had to place in another to sleep in front of them? Did they not care? Or did they, by some miracle, in fact trust him that much?

When he came out of his trance the next morning, he realised some of the members of the Nein had moved during the night, curling closer to and around each other. Cuddling, they called it, and Essek's pity melted away, turning into something more bitter, more poisonous. Envy.

There is something about sitting upright, floating a few inches off the ground while surrounded by people holding each other that can make you feel so incredibly lonely, and that has to say something. Nearly a century of solitude spent between too-large, too-empty towers, too-secretive and too-pious schools, and a too-scheming and too-paranoid court have never left him feeling as isolated and bereft as that morning with the Nein did.

Of course, back then he didn't have the words to describe the feelings swirling in his chest. Nor did he have the words to ask for them to include him in their affections, lest he be presumptuous. That, to quote Caleb Widogast, takes time. Surprisingly little of it, if he is perfectly honest.

A few months down the line, he stopped floating while trancing and when he resurfaced the next morning, he found himself leaning against Fjord, who had taken the last watch. When he jerked away in embarrassment, Fjord blinked awake, too, a disgruntled look on his face, growling that he should stop moving around so much.

Despite his shame, Essek complied and held completely still until the rest of the Nein woke up. After that, he began to dabble into the casual intimacy his friends share. He even tried to sleep, occasionally.

In the beginning, he felt very self-conscious about it. He would wake up with messy hair, or drool on his pillow, or, worst of all, tucked close to Caleb. Another effect of the Mighty Nein, though, is that they very quickly rid you of your sense of shame. So, he no longer cares if he looks a mess, if his clothes are rumpled, or if he's getting spit on Veth's backpack. Just the last thing he can't help but feel embarrassed about.

There are several reasons why he still prefers trancing, though. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. He much prefers being able to watch over them for at least half of that time.

Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And if sleep is childish, wild, and vulnerable, dreams are tenfold so. He often contemplates his crimes during his trances, as well as the discarded timelines, the lost possibilities that could have led to even more death, destruction, and despair. He frequently considers members of the Assembly lording their victory over him, disposing of him, torturing his friends. However, in his trance, he can choose to abandon these timelines. Dreams offer no such luxury. Once in their cruel grasp, you have no choice but to see them through.

Nightmares are one thing, but dreams are another. Even the pleasant ones often come unbidden, worming themselves through his subconscious to pluck out— What exactly Essek should call them, he isn't sure. He wouldn't dare name them wishes or hopes, for that would imply a certain level of possibility for them to come true. These visions are desires, more like, though that term implies a certain passion that does not fit the circumstance.

These unsought fantasies often include the Mighty Nein, years or decades from now. How they would still seek him out, include him in their midst. He dreams of feasts and festivals, of hugs and humour, of truthfulness and trust. And then there are other, even more forbidden dreams featuring him and Caleb. He dreams of soft kisses and gentle caresses, lazy nights spent in the tower reading books, of research and adventures and normalcy, of waking up as close to each other every day as they do from time to time on accident. He would love his future to look like this, but he knows there is a very little chance for that.

So, no matter if the dreams are foul or fair, they torture him all the same.

And lastly, well—

There is a knock on his door and Essek's heart lurches. "Come in," he calls as calmly as he can manage, forcing himself to slowly close the book he hasn't been reading instead of slamming it shut and scrambling to his feet.

The door opens silently, as all doors within the tower do, and Caleb slips inside. He's wearing simple sleeping clothes and Essek silently curses himself for already closing the book, so he can't even pretend to read that instead. "I, ah— I'm sorry for intruding... again," Caleb says, self-consciously tugging at his sleeves. "I hope I didn't wake you?"

"Not at all," he answers, barely keeping himself from saying: 'I was waiting up.' Instead, he opts for: "I was still reading."

"Anything interesting?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you have stored uninteresting books in your mind, Caleb Widogast?"

"Plenty," he deadpans and Essek chuckles.

"It's called The Creation of Silver." He turns the plain cover over to Caleb, to jog his memory. Based on what he could gather by skimming the first pages, it promises to be a rather run of the mill romance novel following the story of a Dwendalian noble trying to escape their arranged marriage. "So far, I find it quite entertaining."

"Ah, yes." Caleb quickly glances away, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Have you reached the part where Stefan leaves for the city yet?"

"I have not."

"Then I will not spoil you." Another tug on his sleeve. "The plot really picks up at that point."

Essek tilts his head to the side, studying Caleb. According to the clock in his room, it is past midnight, which is quite late for the human to still be awake. Yet, he is just hovering in his doorway, caught between stepping inside and leaving again. "I presume you did not come here to discuss my evening reading matter."

"Ah..." He tugs at his sleeves again. "No, I did not." As always, Caleb is as incapable of voicing his needs as Essek is.

Thankfully, Essek is not nearly as apprehensive when it comes to his friends' well-being as he is when his own is concerned. "Should you have trouble sleeping, you know you are more than welcome to stay. Seeing as we are to make progress tomorrow, I am very invested in you having a restful night."

Not being able to sleep is another thing about that practice that Essek cannot understand. Trancing is a matter of will, discipline, and tranquillity and he's always assumed sleep to be the same. He supposes it is, to some degree.

But travelling with the Mighty Nein, and Caleb specifically, has taught him that you cannot force sleep. There are circumstances under which they will toss and turn for hours, unable to find rest. Not even Beau's meditation, which he considered relatively close to his trance, seemed capable to calm a disturbed mind enough for sleep.

He has, however, also discovered that for certain members of the Mighty Nein, certain methods will accomplish the necessary peace of mind. Caduceus' tea appears to be able to work miracles, time and time again. Beauregard likes to tire herself out by running drills, while Jester usually draws in her sketchbook. Yasha tends to make flower crowns or, lacking flowers, braid other people's hair. Essek has been subjected to that numerous times so far and despite his aversion to Dynasty braids, he doesn't hate it. Fjord usually ties sailor's knots, and Veth sorts through her various collections.

Caleb, though? Caleb, for some reason, only needs another person to fall asleep next to. And for some reason, despite the numerous options he has, he chooses Essek more often than not. Not that he's complaining, of course. In fact, he may enjoy it a little too much.

Caleb laughs quietly as he often does at their antics. They have long since learned the rules to this strange game they are playing. "Well, if you put it like this..." he says as he rids himself of his slippers—Hausschuhe, he has explained to Essek, a very important part of Zemnian culture—and puts them next to Essek's. "I would hate to disappoint you, Herr Thelyss."

'You couldn't,' he thinks as he pulls back the covers. Instead, he says: "Indeed." As always, he freezes in place when Caleb joins him on the bed, scooting closer until they are nearly touching. Being this close to each other is not getting any less mortifying, no matter how long it has been since Caleb first came knocking on his door.

He still remembers that night in vivid detail. As so often, Essek has been reading and just got up to get a cup of tea. When he stepped out of his rooms, he nearly collided with a wizard who had convinced himself that his suffering wasn’t important enough to trouble him with. “Do you want to come in?” he said to his own surprise. To his even bigger surprise, Caleb accepted.

They sat on Essek’s couch and talked about everything and nothing at once. Hours later, with his throat gone dry, Essek asked: “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” The moments the words left his mouth he knew he’d said something wrong.

Caleb shot to his feet as if burned and Essek followed suit. “I am so sorry, friend. I will not continue to disturb you any—”

“Where are you going?” he interrupted him, perhaps a little irritated. “Give me some credit, Caleb Widogast; I am capable of far subtler ways to rid myself of an unwelcome visitor. Which you are not.”

He laughed self-consciously and said: “Regardless, I should go and rest. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss.”

“You could stay,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I mean—I noticed your sleep to be more restful when you are around others. I am aware that I am not your first choice, but since the others are not here—You’re welcome to stay, if it at all helps.”

Caleb hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly.”

“In Ordnung,” he answered finally. Essek is still glad he had thought to float for that conversation. That way, at least, his knees didn’t give out.

A short discussion about who should take the bed followed before they stubbornly agreed to share it. Essek came to regret that immediately after when he was confronted with the practical implications of ‘sharing a bed’.

“Make yourself at home,” he said. Caleb took some time to rearrange the pillows and blankets—just like he does now—while Essek hovered nearby. Literally.

It took several reminders from Caleb for Essek to not instinctively recast his floating cantrip, but eventually they managed to lie down next to each other with a minimal amount of awkwardness. They have moved past that initial apprehensiveness by now, Essek thinks while he pretends to read. Shortly after, Caleb flops down, close enough that Essek can feel his breath ghosting over his cheeks.

“Good night, Caleb Widogast,” Essek says, stubbornly staring at the pages and nowhere else. "Do you want me to dim the lights?" He doesn't need them anyways; he just likes to appreciate the room Caleb made for him in all of its colours.

"No, I think I would like to read a bit. I am quite fond of that book."

"You are?" Essek looks down to him in surprise. ‘If Caleb tilts his head,’ the thought hits him, ‘he could rest it on my shoulder.’ He just thought it to be one of the countless books Caleb has read in his life, nothing special. "Why?"

He blushes again. "Ah— I think you'll see. The title is more literal than one would assume."

He considers the book once more, trying to discern what Caleb means with his words. ‘Luxon help me,’ he sends a silent prayer. It wouldn’t be the first time for him to pick up a romance novel that turns out to be quite a bit more explicit than anticipated. To think that such a mistake may have happened to him with Caleb so close—He thinks he might just combust from embarrassment.

"Do you mind flipping the page?" Caleb asks with a yawn, startling Essek out of his thoughts.

"Oh, of course," he says belatedly and turns the page. He hasn't read the last one yet, but nor has he read the one before, so it hardly matters. The novel has a rather shallow plot, so he has no trouble picking it up three pages later, and he's done so by design.

“Thank you.” He yawns again, louder this time and burrows down further into his pillows. “Gute Nacht, mein Schatz,” he mumbles and freezes as if he only now realises what he said. He seems to wait for an answer, but when Essek fails to provide a wrong one, he just smiles up at him and says: “Schlaf wohl und g’sund, bis morgen früh’s Kaffeele kommt.”

“I don’t understand you,” Essek tells him just as quietly, “but you can translate tomorrow.” After a moment of hesitation, he adds in Undercommon: “Sweet dreams, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He quickly glances back at his book before he can do anything stupid. Such as regret his words. Or kiss him goodnight.

Still, with Caleb reading along he does his best to at least somewhat read the novel. It’s a very flowery language, occasionally dropping Zemnian words Essek doesn’t know. Judging by Caleb’s grumbling at least some of them appear to be wrong. The protagonist, Stefan, seems like quite the bore. He does have a strong motivation, he supposes, to escape from the dreary life that awaits him in his arranged marriage. Besides that, and his general cold-hearted demeanour, he can’t discern any defining characteristics.

He finally reaches the part Caleb asked him about—Stefan leaving for the big city—when another character is introduced, presumably his love interest. He appears to be about as compelling as the protagonist, until— Essek snorts quietly. “Caleb Widogast,” he chides softly, “is this a love story about wizards?”

At first, he doesn’t answer and Essek briefly considers the option of Caleb wilfully ignoring him. Then, there’s a barely audible snore. When he glances down in surprise, the human is leaning against his shoulder, soundly asleep. He noisily chews on a strand of his hair, a bit of drool dripping onto Essek’s shoulder.

For a moment he can’t help but stare, a dopey smile on his face. He quickly arrives at the conclusion that something as disgusting as that has absolutely no business being as endearing as it is. But for some reason he doesn’t mind at all.

Moving carefully and slowly, in order not to disturb Caleb’s sleep, he puts down The Creation of Silver. It is getting rather late and he probably should begin his trance, if he wants to wake before Caleb's inevitable departure.

He leans back, wiggling a bit to find a comfortable position. He thinks he's doing a good job of not rousing Caleb until the human grunts quietly. Essek freezes, fearing he may have woken him, but instead of opening his eyes, Caleb just shifts closer to him, throwing an arm and a leg across his lap to hold him tight.

Essek looks down at his... friend with a fond expression. After a moment of consideration, he reaches down to brush the strand of hair behind his ear.  

Sometimes, he feels like he can barely contain all the love he feels for this man within himself. One day, perhaps, he might even find the courage to tell him so.

Zemnian Translations:

Hausschuhe - slippers. In fact a Very Important German thing. Can't wear your normal shoes indoors, so you need special house shoes. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss. - Sleep well, Mister Thelyss. Gute Nacht, mein Schatz. -  Good night, my darling. (lit. treasure) Schlaf wohl und g'sund, bis morgen früh's Kaffeele kommt. - Sleep well and sound until tomorrow morning the little coffee arrives. (My Caleb is Suebian now and I don't take criticism. I was writing this when I suddenly remembered this sentence my parents used to say to me and I thought if my sleep deprived brain remembers things like that, it would only be appropriate if Caleb's did too.)