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satorhime · 2 years ago

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. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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An Epic antitrust loss for Google

A jury just found Google guilty on all counts of antitrust violations stemming from its dispute with Epic, maker of Fortnite, which brought a variety of claims related to how Google runs its app marketplace. This is huge:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/11/technology/epic-games-google-antitrust-ruling.html

The mobile app store world is a duopoly run by Google and Apple. Both use a variety of tactics to prevent their customers from installing third party app stores, which funnels all app makers into their own app stores. Those app stores cream an eye-popping 30% off every purchase made in an app.

This is a shocking amount to charge for payment processing. The payments sector is incredibly monopolized and notorious for its price-gouging – and its standard (wildly inflated) rate is 2-5%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Now, in theory, Epic doesn't have to sell in Google Play, the official Android app store. Unlike Apple's iOS, Android permit both sideloading (installing an app directly without using an app store) and configuring your device to use a different app store. In practice, Google uses a variety of anticompetitive tricks to prevent these app stores from springing up and to dissuade Android users from sideloading. Proving that Google's actions – like paying Activision $360m as part of "Project Hug" (no, really!) – were intended to prevent new app storesfrom springing up was a big lift for Epic. But they managed it, in large part thanks to Google's own internal communications, wherein executives admitted that this was exactly why Project Hug existed. This is part of a pattern with Big Tech antitrust: many of the charges are theoretically very hard to make stick, but because the companies put their evil plans in writing (think of the fraudulent crypto exchange FTX, whose top execs all conferred in a groupchat called "Wirefraud"), Big Tech keeps losing in court:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Now, I do like to dunk on Big Tech for this kind of thing, because it's objectively funny and because the companies make so many unforced errors. But in an important sense, this kind of written record is impossible to avoid. Any large institution can only make and enact policy through administrative systems, and those systems leave behind a paper-trail: memos, meeting minutes, etc. Yes, we all know that quote from The Wire: "Is you taking notes on a fucking criminal conspiracy?" But inevitably, any ambitious conspiracy can only exist if someone is taking notes.

What's more, any large conspiracy involving lots of parties will inevitably produce leaks. Think of this as the corollary to the idea that the moon landing can't be a hoax, because there's no way 400,000 co-conspirators could keep the secret. Big Tech's conspiracies required hundreds or even thousands of collaborators to keep their mouths shut, and eventually someone blabs:

https://www.science.org/content/article/fake-moon-landing-you-d-need-400000-conspirators

This is part of a wave of antitrust cases being brought against the tech giants. As Matt Stoller writes, the guilty-on-all-counts jury verdict will leak into current and future actions. Remember, Google spent much of this year in court fighting the DoJ, who argued that the company bribed Apple not to make a competing search engine, paying tens of billions every year to keep a competitor from emerging. Now that a jury has convinced Google of doing that to prevent alternative app stores from emerging, claims that it used these pay-for-delay tactics in other sectros get a lot more credible:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/boom-google-loses-antitrust-case

On that note: what about Apple? Epic brought a very similar case against Apple and lost. Both Apple and Epic are appealing that case to the Supreme Court, and now that Google has been convicted in a similar case, it might prompt the Supremes to weigh in and resolve the seeming inconsistencies in the interpretation of federal law.

This is a key moment in the long project to wrest antitrust away from the pro-monopoly side, who spent decades "training" judges to produce verdicts that run counter to the plain language of America's antitrust law:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

There's 40 years' worth of bad precedent to overturn. The good news is that we've got the law on our side. Literally, the wording of the laws and the records of the Congressional debate leading to their passage, all militate towards the (incredibly obvious) conclusion that the purpose of anti-monopoly law is to fight monopoly, not defend it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

It's amazing to realize that we got into this monopoly quagmire because judges just literally refused to enforce the law. That's what makes one part of the jury verdict against Google so exciting: the jury found that Google's insistence that Play Store sellers use its payment processor was an act of illegal tying. Today, "tying" is an obscure legal theory, but few doctrines would be more useful in disenshittifying the internet. A company is guilty of illegal tying when it forces you to use unrelated products or services as a condition of using the product you actually want. The abandonment of tying led to a host of horribles, from printer companies forcing you to buy ink at $10,000/gallon to Livenation forcing venues to sell tickets through its Ticketmaster subsidiary.

The next phase of this comes when the judge decides on the penalty. Epic doesn't want cash damages – it wants the judge to order Google to fulfill its promise of "an open, competitive Android ecosystem for all users and industry participants." They've asked the judge to order Google to facilitate third-party app stores, and to separate app stores from payment processors. As Stoller puts it, they want to "crush Google’s control over Android":

https://www.epicgames.com/site/en-US/news/epic-v-google-trial-verdict-a-win-for-all-developers

Google has sworn to appeal, surprising no one. The Times's expert says that they will have a tough time winning, given how clear the verdict was. Whatever this means for Google and Android, it means a lot for a future free from monopolies.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/12/im-feeling-lucky/#hugger-mugger

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anyab · 1 year ago

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Via NasAlSudan

Learn about the Sudanese revolution, the significance of December 19, and a legacy of resistance and resilience.

Join our call to action today and everyday during Sudan Action Week.

December 19 2023

Transcript:

Breaking it down

What is the Sudanese Revolution?

The Sudanese Revolution refers to the popular uprising in Sudan that began on December 19, 2018 and eventually deposed 30-year dictator of Sudan, Omar al-Bashir, on April 11 of 2019.

How did the Revolution begin?

Protests first began in Atbara, a city with historical significance to the labor movement in Sudan, in response to the rising costs of basic supplies such as bread and fuel.

Protestors set fire to the national party headquarters, and the news of their revolt quickly spread, inspiring protestors first in other cities, and then in the capital of Khartoum itself.

Online, the caption #TasgutBas, translating to #JustFall, grew in popularity and helped connect the diaspora to those in Sudan.

Was it really just bread?

No. The rising cost of bread in developing nations is an indicator of how badly the economy is strained, to the point where it impacts members of every social class.

At this point in time in Sudan, subsidies on essential goods had been rolled back, funding for social and state services such as healthcare and education was nearly nonexistent, and it is estimated that nearly 90% of economic activity took place in the informal sector, all while the military budget continually increased.

Transcript:

Who led the charge? Creating a revolution

Group: Sudanese Professional's association (SPA)

Who they are:

Group of labor and trade organizations formed in secret in 2012 and publicly declared in 2016

Backbone of grassroots organizing in Sudan

Role played:

Led action on the street, organized national protests, like the initial march on Khartoum for increased wages before the transition to calls for regime change, and worker strikes.

Group: Local Resistance Committees (LRCS)

Who they are:

Initially formed as groups of students and youth organized together on the more local, neighbourhood basis during the Bashir era

Membership is extremely diverse across socio-economic, ethnic, tribal, religious, and political lines

Role played:

Considered the lifeblood of the revolution, with youth organizing local protests and ensuring safety against governmental repression by standing on the front lines + providing security, food, water, and medication to people

Group: Forces for freedom and change (FFC)

Who they are:

Coalition comprising the SPA, LRCS, the Sudan Revolutionary Front (group of anti-governmental Darfur militias), political parties, and civil society groups

Role played:

Essentially became the political mouthpiece of the revolution and signed onto the transitional government with the military on behalf of Sudanese civilians

It is also crucial to note that from a demographic perspective, it is youth and women that largely led and comprised the Sudanese Revolution.

Trabscript:

How did the revolution succeed?

01. Learning from the Past

Following the Arab Spring wave, Sudan also attempted a revolution in September of 2013

Civilians faced violent crackdowns within the first three days of protest. 200 killed, 800+ arrested

Activists were deterred from mobilization + felt a lot of guilt at the massive loss of life and spent the next 5 years grounding themselves in the study of nonviolent theory and action

02. Building a Movement

Coalition Building and People Power

Diversification of the reach of the movement to make sure all sectors of Sudani society were represented

Decentralization of Activism

Past revolutions in 1964 and 1985 were concentrated in the labor movement and educational elites in Khartoum

This time, experienced nonviolent activists trained those in the capital and ensured ethnic, religious, and tribal diversity

Newly trained activists then taught others locally across the Sudanese states

Transcript:

Why december 19?

On December 19, 1955, the Sudanese parliament unanimously adopted a declaration of independence from the Anglo-Egyptian colonial power.

The declaration went into effect on January 1, 1956, which is why Independence Day is officially January 1, but December 19 is when the Sudanese people were truly liberated from colonial rule.

The flag shown is Sudan's independence flag. The blue is for the Nile, the yellow for the Sahara, and the green for the farmlands.

The current Sudanese flag was adopted in 1970, with the colors used being the Pan-Arab ones.

During the 2019 revolution, protestors often carried the independence flag instead as a form of resistance to the narrative of an exclusive Pan-Arab Sudanese identity.

December 19 is ultimately a tribute to Sudanese strength and resilience. It honors our independence and revolutionary martyrs - not just those of the 2019 revolution, but the democratic revolutions of 1964 and 1985 as well.

Transcript:

Why is the revolution ongoing?

The goal was never just the fall of a dictator. The goal was, and is, to build a better Sudan, one free from military rule. One with equal opportunities for everyone, with economic prosperity and safety and security - the key principles of freedom, peace, and justice that the revolution called for.

Today, though, before we rebuild Sudan, before we free it from foreign interests and military rule and sectarianism, we need to save it. Each day that passes by with war waging on is one where more civilians are killed. More people are displaced. More women are raped. More children go hungry. To live in the conflict zones in Sudan right now - whether that be Khartoum, Darfur, Kordofan, or now, Al Gezira, is to be trapped in a never-ending nightmare, a fight for survival. And to live elsewhere in Sudan is to wonder whether you're next.

Sudan Action Week calls on you to educate yourself and others about Sudan, and then to help the Sudanese people save it, because we can no longer do it alone.

Transcript:

What can you do? Uniting for Al Gezira and North Darfur

As we witness the unfolding events in Al Gezira and North Darfur, the communities of Abu Haraz, Hantoub, Medani, El Fasher, and many others are reaching out for assistance. Sudanese resilience persists to this day, with individuals on platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok seeking and providing guidance on transportation services, medical care, food, shelter, protection, safe zones, operational markets, and more. This isn't new for the Sudanese community. A legacy of unity emerged, notably during the 2019 revolutions, where nas al Sudan [the people of Sudan], both within the nation and in the diaspora, rallied together to support each other online. Beyond merely sharing stories on social media, this was about strengthening collective action, enhancing mobilizations, and building a resilient community rooted in solidarity. The essence of the Sudanese community lies in people supporting people, notably during the uprising in 2018 and following the events of April 15th, 2023

Swipe to see how you can help.

Transcript:

What can you do?

This week, on a day nearly mirroring Sudanese Independence and the popular 2018 uprising, Sudanese resilience endures as war follows nas al Sudan to Al Gezira and again in North Darfur. Our call to action this week is not just to share; it's a collective effort to uplift one another.

Share Resources:

If you have access to resources that can help such as transportation services, medical assistance, food, shelter, etc., please comment below.

Community Requests:

If you are in Al Gezira or North Darfur and require specific support, please comment on your needs

Connect Individuals:

For those unable to share resources directly, help amplify requests by sharing this information within your personal networks. Your connection may lead to support from individuals who can assist.

Spread the Word:

Share this call to action on your social media platforms to broaden the reach and encourage more people to contribute.

Transcript:

Hanabniho

حنبنيهوا

[We will rebuild]

#keepEyesOnSudan

#SudanActionWeek

#sudan #sudan action week #keep eyes on sudan

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writingonleaves · 6 months ago

Text

i've been yours since you stepped through the door tonight - andrei svechnikov

pairing: andrei svechnikov x original female character

warnings: swearing, drinking alcohol, lotta fluff, inaccuracies regarding anything athletic trainer related (timeline of training, terminology, etc), proofread maybe once, mentions of injuries, author has never been to raleigh, mostly based off the first hald of the 2023-2024 season but i couldn't be bothered to keep track how often svech had been in and out lmfao

title: "almost touch me" by maisy kay, also inspired by "lowkey" by NIKI

word count: 16k

author's note: this idea's been swirling around my head for awhile now, but @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2024 inspired me to really revive it. @callsign-denmark, this is for you, my friend. i hope you enjoy it!

~*~*~

“Chrissy!”

Christina turns around from where she’s restocking ice packs in the training room. She nods at the smiley Russian. “Svech.”

He walks to her and swings an arm around her shoulder in a friendly side-hug. “Good summer?”

“It was alright,” her summer back home in the Delaware suburbs wasn’t anything to write home to. And Andrei Svechnikov is technically a coworker who doesn’t need to know everything. “Good to be back though.”

“I know what you mean,” he says. Andrei leans back against one of the treatment tables. “You graduated, right? College?”

She blinks. When did she ever mention that to him last season? “I did. Back in May. The week after playoffs ended.”

“Congratulations.”

She smiles genuinely, turning to face him completely. “Thank you. Did you need something?”

“Nope,” he says with a smile that somehow still stuns Christina even after a season of seeing it so much. “I just wanted to say hi and welcome back.”

“Well, welcome back to you too.” As he’s turning away to go to fitness testing, she calls out. “Hey! Come back after you’re done. Should check on the knee before you go home.”

He halts, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. “Is that part of my regimen to get back to playing?”

“Has Doug told you?”

“Told me what?”

Clearly not then. Trust her boss, who’s lovely but also like a purposefully annoying father, to leave it to her to break the news. “They put me in charge of you this season.”

“Me?”

“Well, your recovery. And not completely. Obviously, Doug will still have final say. But if anything’s going on, I’m your person. Especially as you’re getting back into it.”

“Oh?” Andrei smirks and Christina refuses to be affected by it.

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Of course not. I trust you.”

“Then I better see you before you leave today.”

“Deal.” He shoots her one last smile. “Bye Chrissy.”

“See you later, Svech.” Andrei brushes shoulders with Brady and they exchange excited greetings. She waits until Andrei leaves the room and smiles. “What can I do for you, Brady?”

“Got any tape?”

“Plenty.” She heads to the cabinet. “Take a seat.”

Christina Hawthorne feels very fortunate to even be back in this training room. After a co-op with the Hurricanes last season with their athletic training team, she graduated from UNC Chapel Hill in the spring. They liked her enough to offer her a position on the team for this season while she prepares for her certification test in January. They’re putting an immense amount of trust in her, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

She loves the guys, so it’s nice to see that they seem to like her enough to keep her around.

When she has a few free minutes with no players trailing into the training room, she wanders over to the gym. She may have had dreams to be a professional ballerina when she was very young, but actually working with professional athletes everyday is definitely a humbling experience.

She’s sure to stay out of the way as the players are getting tested, leaning against the wall and sorta zoning out. She takes note of Andrei’s visible frustration at himself for not getting some of the results he wants. She knows that he won’t be ready for the first few games, and he knows too. But she’s sure he’s not happy about it.

As promised, Andrei does come back to the training room after his fitness tests. She wrinkles her nose as Sebastian ruffles her dyed blonde hair in thanks for helping him stretch out before he leaves. She brushes her fingers through her hair to try and tame it. “Oh good, you’re back.”

“I promised, no?” He takes a seat on the table and puts his leg up.

“How did today go?”

He huffs. “Fine.”

She presses her thumb against a particular part of his knee and he hisses. She immediately stops and does the same to the other side. No reaction there. She quickly turns to scribble something down in her notes. “I know this is annoying. But you’ll be back on the ice soon.”

“Not frustrated at you,” Andrei says, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Just myself.”

“Don’t be,” Christina says, gesturing for him to lie down. “Have you been doing the stretches you’re supposed to be doing?”

“How do you know what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“Because I look over your notes and your trainers and the medical staff are in constant contact.”

He chuckles. “Right. Yes, I have been.”

“You lying to me?”

“Never.”

She bends his knee against his chest. “Then believe me. You’ll be back on the ice soon.”

“Okay,” he replies simply. “I believe you.”

She twists slightly. “Any pain?”

“No.”

Christina grins, then twists it the other way. “How about now?”

“No.”

“Music to my ears,” she gestures for him to sit up. “You’re good to go.”

“You sure?”

“Unless there’s something else you want me to look at.”

He shakes his head. “No. I think I’m good.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets up and flashes her a smile. “See you, Chrissy. Thanks. As always.”

She waves him off. “Just doing my job. Have a good night.”

…..

College was hard, but having a full-time job while trying to study for a certification is a whole new game. Trying to fit in study time while doing a job that already has weird hours is also another thing. Christina’s lucky that the athletic training and medical team understands and lets her study when the players are on the ice or she’s not needed. She even has her own little table in the trainers’ office this year, where she’s often found pooling over textbooks and scribbling notes.

Training camp and pre-season is a chaotic time for a lot of reasons. There’s more players to keep track of and people are dusting off their rust. No one ever wants to get hurt of course, but especially not during pre-season. Which means everyone is also taking extra precautions. With new faces comes new routines and an adjustment period.

Christina has a few moments of quiet, the last pre-season game occurring later that evening against Nashville. Players aren’t coming into the arena for at least another hour, and she pours over a chapter in her textbook. She has a pink highlighter in her mouth and a blue one in her hand when someone knocks on the wall.

She looks up to see Andrei, who looks amused. “Sorry. Are you busy?”

She spits out the highlighter gracefully and caps them both. “Not at all. What’s up?”

“Are you sure?” He nods over to her books. “You look busy.”

“What’s up, Svech?” She repeats.

He takes the hint. “Can you stretch out my hamstring?”

“Is it-”

“No. It’s not bad enough to need Doug. Just a little tight. And you said I should go to you whenever I need something.”

She stands up as they both head into the training room. “I did say that, yes. Which one?” He points at his right hamstring and she starts.

“What were you doing earlier? With the books?”

“I’m taking a certification exam in January.”

“For what?”

“To become an official athletic trainer.”

“You’re not one already?”

“I am not,” she says. “Don’t worry. That’s why Doug and the rest of the team do all the nitty-gritty stuff.”

“I’m surprised,” Andrei says. “I thought you were, like, official. You seem to know everything.”

She chuckles, feeling a knot and focusing on that area. “That’s kind of you. I definitely don’t though.” She sees his breath hitch and grimaces. “Sorry. Just a few more seconds.”

“It’s your job,” he says in a strained voice. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Well, I still feel bad when my job elicits pain in others,” she says. After two minutes, she nods. “Need more?”

He moves his leg around and shakes his head. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

“Of course.” She looks at the clock hanging up on the wall and furrows her eyebrows. “You’re in early.”

Andrei shrugs. “I like to come in early.”

“I know,” the right side of her lip quirks up as tilts her head to the side. “This is really early though, even for you.”

“Well, you’re in too,” he says. “So why can’t I be?”

She chuckles. “I’m not saying you can’t, Svech. I’m just saying I didn’t expect to be seeing any hockey player for at least another hour.”

“Was feeling too restless at home,” Andrei says.

She suddenly gets an idea. “Are you busy right now? Am I keeping you from anything?”

Ha shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Wanna help me study?”

“I don’t know if I can be much help.” Nonetheless, he follows her back into the offices.

She pulls out a chair for him to sit in and opens her textbook back up. “I study best when I can talk to someone and describe a concept or topic and they tell me it makes sense. I would be a shitty athletic trainer if I can’t tell the athlete what I’m doing.”

“So all I have to do is sit here and listen?”

“And ask questions if I’m not making any sense,” she bites her lip. “Again, if you have other places to be, I get it. This isn’t the most interesting stuff but-”

“No, no.” He assures before smiling widely. She has an urge to poke her finger in his dimple. “I’d love to help.”

Christina smiles in satisfaction as she flips through her pages. Andrei sits back and makes himself comfortable.

Yeah, she’s glad to be back.

…..

Every year, the players, coaches and staff head out to a bar in downtown Raleigh before the start of the first regular season game. It’s to stir up excitement and camaraderie before the season starts. Christina couldn’t make it last year because she had class, but as she’s looking at herself in the mirror —a fitted white t-shirt under a green leather jacket she rarely gets to wear that her sister bought her for Christmas and light washed flare jeans — she tells herself to call the damn Uber before she backs out.

It’s not that she doesn’t like her coworkers. She really likes them, actually. But seeing them outside of work in a social situation where she could make a fool of herself is a bit anxiety-inducing.

Once she thanks her Uber driver, she steps out into the swanky rooftop bar that has her tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator. Once she steps up, it’s easy to find the Canes crew, various familiar faces crowded around a specific area of the spacious rooftop. Taylor, the head of social content, who Christina’s become good friends with, sees her first and waves her over, and soon Christina is enveloped in exciting chatter. Taylor, the saint they are, pushes a White Russian, Christina’s favorite drink, in her hands.

Christina can’t feel too bad. The organization is heading the bill tonight and she’s gonna milk that for all it’s worth.

A bit later, when she’s on her third drink of the night and feeling comfortably tipsy observing the people around her, she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns around in her stool and immediately beams.

“Andrei!”

Andrei laughs and returns Christina’s enthusiastic hug before he leans his hip against the bar counter. “Hey Chrissy. You having fun?”

“Plenty.” She giggles. “Especially now that you’re here.”

Maybe it’s her tipsy self or the bar lighting, but she swears his cheeks become redder. Pair that with his button up shirt that has the top buttons undone and a pair of dark jeans and Christina needs to chill. “I’ve been trying to get to you all night,” he says. “You’re a popular woman. I saw Coach laughing at your jokes.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, leaning her chin on her palm. “I’m a funny gal, what can I say?”

“A confident one too,” he says, nodding to her empty glass. “What are you drinking?”

“You do know that the tab is on the Canes tonight, right? You don’t need to butter me up with drinks.”

Andrei rolls his eyes playfully and Christina bursts out into giggles. “I’m not trying to..butter you up? What does that even mean?”

“Like, uh, flatter me or whatever to get something. Like you’re doing something only hoping that you’ll get something out of it.”

“I’m definitely not trying to do that. I’m just trying to be nice. So what are you drinking?”

She offers a toothy grin. “A White Russian, please.” She pokes his shoulder. “Kinda like you, I guess.” Andrei snorts before waving down the bartender to order her drink. She squints at the drink in his hand. “Just a beer?”

“Don’t feel like getting too drunk tonight.”

“How responsible of you.”

He smiles, and Christina is suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss him. But she shakes her head and refocuses back on whatever he’s saying. He leans in closer to hear her response and she has to swallow roughly so her voice doesn’t crack.

Talking with Andrei is always so seamless. The conversation may shift between three different topics in two minutes but it feels natural. Christina never has an urge to overthink when she’s talking with Andrei. He’s funny and sweet and makes her feel like she’s actually being listened to.

In a world where she’s surrounded by men on a daily basis, it’s stupidly rare to feel as heard as she does whenever she speaks to the star winger of the Carolina Hurricanes.

After she finishes her drink, she realizes she should probably start thinking about going home. They all technically have work tomorrow, even if it’s a later start, and people are starting to filter out, having come by to say goodbye to the both of them in the last 10 minutes.

She starts to stand up and immediately sways on her feet. “Woah,” Andrei says, immediately putting a hand on her waist to steady her. “Slowly.”

“I’m fine,” Christina says, slapping his hand but ultimately grabbing onto his wrist as she steadies herself. “I should probably get going.”

Andrei’s eyebrows furrow. “You didn’t drive here, right?”

Christina snorts, “Of course not. I took an Uber.”

“Where do you live?”

“The Six Forks area.”

He pinches their empty glasses and puts them on the bar counter, nodding in thanks to the bartender. “You’re on my way home. I drive you.”

“Where do you live?”

“North Hills.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not that drunk to know that that’s definitely not on your way. You’d be overshooting.”

“I don’t care. It’s late, and I’d feel more comfortable if I just drove you home rather than you taking an Uber.”

“Andrei.” She deadpans. “I’m a grown woman. I can get home myself.”

“I know. But just let me drive you. Please.”

She huffs. “Fine. Thank you.”

He grins, “Anytime. Let’s say goodbye to everyone and then we head out.” Christina stumbles again and his hand is immediately back on her waist. “Slowly,” he repeats.

“I’m fine,” she repeats.

After they both say goodbye to everyone who’s still at the bar (Taylor eyes her with a smirk, gaze shifting between Christina’s eyes and Andrei’s hand that’s hovering over her back. Christina just rolls her eyes and discreetly flips them off), Andrei leads her to the parking lot.

Christina’s nose crinkles at the sight of the lamborghini as Andrei unlocks it. “I forgot you drive this.”

Andrei lets out a loud laugh before opening the passenger door. “Don’t worry. I drive extra safe with you in the car.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, climbing in. She’s heard about his questionable driving. She hopes she doesn’t regret this.

The engine roars to life and Christina rolls her eyes at the sound. Andrei just shoots her a smile before backing out of the spot. He unlocks his phone and hands it to her. “Put in your address.”

She hums, typing it in before putting his phone in the center console. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, before turning her head so that she’s facing him, leaning on the headrest. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re telling me you don’t like me as your personal Uber?” Andrei asks. She watches as he turns the wheel with one hand and rests his other hand on the center console shift. “You feel okay? I can open a window if you need.”

“I’m okay, Svech. Just don’t accelerate like a mad man.”

He laughs and she can’t help but giggle along. “I won’t. Promise,” he says. “You like to talk when you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk,” she mutters.

Andrei’s hum blends in with the engine. “Sure.”

“Not drunk,” she repeats. “Especially not in front of you all. That would be unprofessional.”

“Why you afraid of being unprofessional? The staff loves you. The team loves you.”

“I’ve worked hard to get here,” she says, forcing her eyes back open so she doesn’t fall asleep. “But the fact that I got this job in the first place is a blessing. I’m not gonna do anything to fuck it up.”

He nods. She closes her eyes. He gently jostles her awake when they’re parked in front of her apartment. He insists on walking her up to the door, and she leaves him with another ‘thank you,’ a tight hug and a sleepy smile.

He doesn’t move his feet until after a minute of staring at her front door.

…..

Opening night is always so thrilling. Of any sport. Christina has to tell herself to stop grinning so widely when the team is getting announced, making sweater paws with a Hurricanes crewneck she found on Etsy. She rocks back and forth in the tunnel, trying to stay out of everyone’s way on the side while simultaneously trying to see the ice and crowd.

Once the game is about to begin and the arena lights come back on, Christina shakes her head at herself to focus. It’s go-time. Like last year, she’s not with Doug on the bench — the day she gets on the bench will be the day her heart rate explodes — but she’s closeby in the tunnel or in the training room, making sure everything’s all good and she’s not needed.

“Hey.”

She turns to see Andrei, in his gray plaid game day suit coming from the bench where he was during player introductions. She smiles, “Hi. Happy season opener.”

“Happy season opener.” He grins. “The red earrings are back.”

Christina automatically reaches to touch the red rose earrings she has on tonight. She puts on a red pair of earrings every game day, whether its a flower, a cool design or ruby studs.

It’s something she just does for fun. For herself. She’s surprised that Andrei has noticed.

“You heading up to the press box?”

“Yeah.”

They’re interrupted by Bob, the head equipment manager, greeting them with a grin “Miss you out there, Svech.”

“Soon,” Andrei promises.

Bob turns to her with a playful raise of his eyebrow. “That true, Chrissy?”

Christina grins. “That depends on him,” she jokes. “No, he should be good to go soon. Let me know if you need any help tonight..”

Bob waves her away. “Of course. Can always count on you. See you both later,” He then heads back to the bench.

She takes one last look at the bench to see if anyone needs anything. No one does. She turns back to Andrei. “Thanks again for driving me home last week.”

“Of course. Did you wake up okay?”

“I don’t get hungover.”

“Lucky you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you heading on the road trip after this?”

“I’m not, actually. I should be on all the other ones though.”

“Why not this one?”

She chuckles. “Funnily enough, because of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my job. I also think it’s because it’s early in the season so I’m not really needed yet. Hopefully.” She grimaces, “I just jinxed it, didn’t I?”

Andrei laughs, while nodding a greeting at one of the assistant coaches passing by. “Maybe. I feel bad you can’t go on the road, though.”

“There'll be plenty of other chances. You can make it up to me by helping me study again,” she jokes.

“I will do it,” he says seriously.

“I was kidding.”

“I will do it,” he repeats and clears his throat. “I should head up.”

She nods. “Enjoy watching from above.”

“Thanks. I mean it. I will help you study while you put me through painful stretches.”

“The stretches shouldn’t be that painful otherwise you’re not ready to go,” she admonishes. She internally wants to cringe at her tone switch, but she can’t help it.

Luckily, he just grins, a twinkle in his eye. “I know, I know. I’m teasing.”

She rolls her eyes. “Leave. I have work to do.”

He laughs, “See you later, Chrissy.”

…..

Last year, when she still had school, she couldn’t go on road trips either — until it came to the playoffs. So she knows what it’s like to come to the rink when no one’s really around.

Christina’s planning just to come in for a few hours in the morning to gather her own notes and to organize a few things. Also, she might study for a bit, wanting a different environment than her apartment. Andrei also texted her — she got the number of every single player at the start of the season — saying that he’s planning to come in to work on some things with Steven, one of the other assistant athletic trainers who’s also staying behind this road trip.

She taps her ID to get in, sipping her iced latte as she strolls down the hallway. She smiles and nods in greeting to a few staff members who she passes. Heading into the office, she sets her stuff down and immediately pulls out some of her notes, along with going through notes that the team has been sending on their road trip.

She hears Andrei before she sees him, the sound of him and Steven talking echoing through the hallway. They come to the office and she gives them both a wave.

“Good morning.”

Andrei and Steven both grin. “Morning,” they respond in unison.

“Did you get Doug’s notes last night?” Steven asks.

“Yeah. I’m in the middle of putting them in.”

“Amazing. Thank you.” Steven pats Andrei on the shoulder. “You’re all set this morning, Svech. Just remember what I said.”

Andrei nods as Steven leaves the room. “Thanks, Steve.” Steve puts his hand up in acknowledgement. Andrei pulls over a chair and sits down. She saves her work. He looks at the pair of old pointe shoes on her desk that she had just remembered to bring in. “What are those?”

“Old pointe shoes.”

“Well, yeah. I know what they are. Are they yours?”

She goes to play with one of the fraying ribbons. “They are. These are the last pair I wore before I left for college. I brought them in as something to put on my desk.”

“I didn’t know you danced.”

“Well, you don’t know that much about me.”

A pause, before the most beautiful smile spreads across Andrei’s face. “What makes this pair so special?”

Christina smiles bittersweetly. “I was pretty good. Like, went to international competitions good. Could’ve maybe done it for a living good. And I loved it so much. But I fucked up my ankle pretty badly when I was 15 and was never the same after that. I still danced and I made a full recovery, but, you know. At my dance studio, every graduating senior got to perform a solo at the yearly showcase and I did mine on pointe. It was a big moment for me.”

“And you did it in those shoes.”

She nods. “Yup.”

“Was professional dancer the first dream?”

“Yes and no. I think as I got older I realized I had other dreams and wanted to do other things. That didn’t fully sink into me until the injury. But it would’ve been cool, you know, be on a stage for a living.”

“Do you still dance?”

“When I can. UNC didn’t have a ballet company, so I tried to take classes out here in Raleigh. I’m a bit too busy these days, but I’d like to get back in a class at some point.”

Andrei hums, reaching to pick up a shoe. He hesitates, looking at her for permission and she nods at him to go ahead. “I just know you’re a beautiful dancer.”

She tries not to blush. But from the knowing glint in his eye, she knows she fails. He places the pointe shoe carefully back on her desk and she looks at the well-worn satin briefly, wondering what that life could’ve been like for her.

But then her attention is brought back to Andrei as he asks a question relating to his recovery, and Christina knows she’s right where she wants to be.

…..

The next day, when she’s not scheduled to go into work, she still somehow sees Andrei.

Christina has just finished grabbing lunch with a college friend and decides to wander into a nearby cafe, its flowery and vine covered entrance enticing her. With a book in her tote bag and taste buds that always welcome coffee, she orders a latte and perches herself at a table by the window.

She’s staring out the window lost in her own world when she hears his name being called out by the barista. She whips her head towards the counter. There’s not a lot of people you run into in Raleigh named Andrei. Before she knows it, she makes eye contact with him. She hates that he literally lights up before briskly walking over to her.

A backwards cap and a gray henley has never looked so good before. It’s almost infuriating.

He stops abruptly in front of her table, right hand bracing the chair across from her and left hand holding his coffee. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Not at all.” She grins as he sits down. “Even on my off days, I can’t escape.”

Andre laughs, putting his coffee down on the table. “I come here all the time but I never see you here before.”

“I was in the area meeting up for lunch with a friend and the flowers outside convinced me,” she says. “Now that I know this is your spot, I’ll avoid it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that.” He nods to her open book. “Reading?”

“Trying. Been trying to read a bit more because I never had time in college.”

“Did you like college?”

Christina smiles. “I did. Part of it was interrupted by the pandemic, but even then, I had a great time.”

“Are you from Raleigh?”

“No, I’m not. I grew up in Delaware, and my family’s all still there.”

“Where’s that?”

She chuckles. “A small state around Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. The closest NHL teams would be the Caps and Flyers, probably. But my family are more football fans. Dad loves the Eagles.”

“So no hockey?”

“Not really. I honestly didn’t really get into hockey until working with the Canes.”

“So now what? You’re a Canes fan?”

“Because I work for them, sure. And you guys aren’t so bad off the ice either.”

Andrei laughs and it’s such a delightful sound. She puts her chin on her palm and listens as he continues talking.

She was hoping not to have to talk to a single person for the rest of the day. She ends up at that cafe with Andrei for over an hour.

…..

Christina grimaces at her TV as she watches the game end, the Hurricanes now on a three game losing streak. It’s still early in the season, but no one likes losing. She glances at her phone as it buzzes, knowing it’s a text from Andrei. They’ve been texting sporadically all night about the game that he’s also watching in his own home. He hasn’t outright said it to her, but she imagines it’s frustrating for him because he can’t be out on the ice with his teammates.

Christina looks at his response with a quiet laugh, shoots back a text and tosses her phone a few feet away from her with a deep breath.

The thing is, when she lets herself really think about it, her and Andrei’s professional relationship from the start has always been different compared to her relationship with the other players. From the first time she introduced herself and saw his smile, she knew this was gonna be tough.

The athlete part of him doesn’t faze her — she’s danced with and been taught by world renowned ballerinas and she worked in the training room of various teams at UNC. It was his ingenuity and kindness that reeled her in. The accented voice paired with his ability to make things look so easy when she knows it’s anything but, always with a smile on his face.

Christina would be lying to herself if she says she hasn’t ever considered her and Andrei as…more. She’d be an idiot not to. Obviously, she knows Andrei is incredibly handsome. She’s known that from the very first time she saw him in the training room last season. And it doesn’t help that he’s also so nice with no pretense. Nice just to be nice.

But it would never happen. Could never happen. He has the entire city of Raleigh falling at his feet and she works with him.

One night when she was a bit too wine tipsy in her dorm last year, she pulled out the contract she had signed and found the tiny section that addressed romantic relationships among “any members of the Carolina Hurricanes organization” and found some super vague shit basically saying that it was okay in most instances. Which it is. One of their assistant coaches is married to the head of the PR department.

But she has an inkling that players are a whole different subclause.

So while they developed a good rapport last season, Christina purposefully kept her distance a bit, sparing little details about her own life and always turning it back to him. To be fair, she was careful around everyone last season, not wanting to get in the way and just wide-eyed overall. But now she’s (hopefully) gonna be around for a bit and will try to let her personality shine a bit more. Push herself to be more casual and comfortable with the staff and team.

Like texting Andrei about things that aren’t related to his recovery.

It started with Andrei texting something funny about one of the pregame photos of Brady that had been tweeted. His comment made Christina snort out her tea as she quickly replied back. It’s not like they’re texting often, but it always puts a smile on her face whenever his name pops up on her phone.

She knows she needs to be careful. But before anything else, she’s just glad to have another new friend. Someone at work she’s comfortable enough to joke around with.

That’s enough for her.

…..

Andrei’s long-waited season debut has the fans, his teammates and the whole staff excited. But no one’s more excited than Andrei himself, who’s bouncing around all day from the moment he walks in for his daily check-in.

As she watches him skate around for warmups, she grins at his infectious happiness. He picks up a water bottle and squirts water on her when he comes back to the bench for a moment and she wants to flip him off so badly. She totally would if there weren’t cameras around and if also wasn’t, you know, unprofessional. He’s lucky she’s wearing a black sweater today. Jordan reaches to pull on the ribbon in her hair and that’s when she makes her way off the bench, causing Doug and the other staff to laugh.

Once the game starts, she does grimace a bit as she’s watching footage of the game from the training room when she sees Andrei go in for a heavy hit. She hears the cheers from the fans and she gets it, but he’s literally just coming off a season ending injury. Yes, he’s a professional athlete, but she’s (almost) a certified athletic trainer.

They win 3-0 and everyone’s pumped. She’s busy documenting notes as the athletes start leaving the arena. Andrei, as instructed, comes in and she makes sure everything’s okay with his knee.

“Hey,” she calls out before he leaves. He turns back around with an expectant smile. She beams. “Good game. Glad to have you back.”

“Thank you,” he says with a grin. “Good to be back.”

…..

When you work in such a team centered environment, there’s always someone around. Always someone to talk to and joke around with. She loves it. The collaboration of the work she does is probably her favorite part.

But she also loves time by herself. So she vows to herself that on every road trip, after some studying, she’ll take the time to explore wherever she is by herself. Whether it’s simply grabbing a coffee or walking around whatever city they’re in or just sitting outside, she’ll carve out some time for herself, while exploring cities that she’s never been to.

The first mini road trip she goes on is to Philadelphia and New York. In Philadelphia, she heads to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Her younger sister Layla is a graphic design major at Carnegie Mellon so she’s filtered some of her love and knowledge to Christina. With her airpods in, she wanders through the exhibits on her own.

That’s another thing about post-grad. Learning how to do things alone.

New York has a lot more options. She only has one full day she isn’t working and another half day. During the full day when she’s actually in the city, she meets up with a friend from high school for a nice walk around Brooklyn before dinner. On the half day, after morning skate in Long Island, she wants to just people watch outside for a few hours on a weirdly warm day for November.

The elevator doors open and Andrei comes walking out, looking down at his phone. When he looks up, a grin spreads across his face and he locks his phone. “Hi Chrissy.”

She nods. “Svech.” The elevator doors close. That’s fine. She’ll catch the next one. “Where’d you just come back from?”

“Just grabbed some lunch with the guys after practice. Where you off to?”

“Honestly, probably also gonna grab a coffee and then sit outside by the water and just daydream. I brought a book, but we’ll see if I’m in the mood.”

Andrei laughs. “Sounds like a great day.”

It is her alone time, but she asks anyways. “Would you like to join?”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh. I don’t want to intrude or-”

“You wouldn’t be. I’m asking you.”

“Oh. Well, um, yeah, then. Sure. Give me a minute to use the bathroom?”

“Take your time.” He shoots her a thankful smile as he briskly walks to his room while she waits by the elevators, shifting on her feet. A few minutes later, he comes back out, this time with a backwards hat on. He shoves his hands in his off-white sweatshirt and she presses the elevator button, purposefully not looking at him.

There’s something about a backwards hat. It’s actually really annoying how attractive it is.

“How’s your first road trip been?”

Christina smiles as they step into the elevator. “Good. Went to an art museum in Philly. Saw a college friend in Brooklyn and just walked around the city. The rest of the time I’ve been with you guys.”

“You like art?”

“A bit. My sister’s studying graphic design, so her love for it has bleeded into my life.”

“That’s sweet. Are you two close?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if we’re as close as you and your brother though.” She teases, and she swears she sees his cheeks tinge pink as they walk out of the elevator and out of the hotel. “She’s much cooler than I am, just started her second year at Carnegie Mellon. I was actually just texting her because she’s trying to figure out flights to Raleigh for Thanksgiving.”

“She’s coming down?”

“Yup,” they start wandering to the nearby park. “Usually, we’d go back home to Delaware. But since we have games the day before and after and they’re at home, they’re all coming down to me. First Thanksgiving in Raleigh. They’ll probably come to a game or two.”

“That’s really nice.”

“How about you? Is your mom or dad coming to visit anytime soon?”

“Not sure yet, with Geno now back in Russia. My mom was mainly here to keep me company when I was injured. I’m sure you’ll get to meet her soon though.”

They see a cafe ahead of them and she suggests they pop in to grab something. He opens the door for her and also pays for her, which is really annoying and she takes note of his coffee order so that she can get him back once they’re home. Once they receive their coffees, they’re back outside and in the park, sitting and people watching while petting the dogs that occasionally come up to them.

“Do you miss dancing? Like, at the level you were before getting injured?”

A sad smile automatically appears on her face. “All the time. But it’s changed. It used to be more painful and frustrating to think about. Now it’s more of looking back at the good memories.”

“My grandma used to dance as well. She took my brother and I to a ballet in Moscow once. I honestly don’t remember much of it. I was too young.”

Christina chuckles. “Yeah, it’s not for everyone.” She lets out a deep breath. “God, I haven’t seen a ballet in ages.”

“Can I ask how bad your injury was?”

“A recurring stress fracture that required surgery,” she says. “I don’t know if they could ever actually diagnose it officially because it was so fucked up. Or maybe I just block it out of my brain because it was such a painful time.”

“Even after a full recovery, there was no chance to go on as intensely as before?”

“There might’ve been. But I made the choice that I didn’t want my ankles wearing down on me by 25 and like I said, I had other dreams.”

“That must’ve been a hard decision to make.”

Christina swallows. It’s been awhile since she’s talked about this with anyone. “It was. I was heartbroken, honestly. It just felt like my life was over, you know? Obviously, it wasn’t. But I didn’t know that at 15. But if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have thought about going the athletic training route, and in a way, what I’m doing now connects to my dance background, so I’m happy where I am now.”

His eyes light up with hope. “Do you have a video of you dancing?”

She laughs. “I actually do.” She gets her phone out and searches for a particular video. “This was around a year ago. A little across the floor combo we were doing in a class.” She hands him her phone and looks over his shoulder to watch with him. It’s a short video, only about 20 seconds long, but it combines a bit of everything — waltz, pirouettes, leaps and footwork.

He replays it again. She has no idea what to make of that. “I was right.”

“Hm?”

“You’re a beautiful dancer.”

“Oh. That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he says. “You have beautiful…lines? Is that the right word?”

“Yeah, actually.” He gives her a triumphant smile and she can’t help but laugh. “Thank you. That's really sweet. I appreciate it.”

He watches the video again. She stares at the side of his face, trying to see what he’s seeing. She can’t quite place it. The only thing she can place is her faster than normal heart rate.

…..

A loss against the Panthers at their barn, a win against Tampa on their ice the next day and then a loss against Philly at home. Andrei still hasn’t recorded his own goal, and Christina knows it’s eating him alive.

It’s funny, because he’s trying not to let it show, especially in front of media. But Christina knows better, especially when he starts pushing himself on the ice even more.

She’s not usually on the bench during morning skates. More often than not, she’s in the training room or her office, studying or doing miscellaneous tasks until players file in during or after practice for various needs. But once in awhile, she likes to walk out to the ice. Today, she’s taking her studying out there to see if the crispness of the air and the sounds of hockey keep her focused.

She’s reading over a passage in her textbook when she sees a shadow fall over the page. She looks up to see Andrei drinking some water.

“If you spray water on this book, you’re paying for another one,” she warns.

“Of course,” he says with an easy smile.

“I hope you’ve been stretching out your knee,” she says. “With how hard you’re going at during practice.”

“How do you know how hard I’m going in practice?”

“It’s part of my job,” she responds dryly, backing away and glaring at Seth as he reaches out to mess up her hair.

“Coming out here to study now?” Andrei asks.

She shrugs. “Trying something new.”

“Is it working?”

“It was,” she says pointedly.

Brady skates to a stop in front of them and laughs. “That’s her telling us to stop annoying her.”

“You could never annoy me, Skjeisy.” Christina grins.

Andrei pouts. “What does Skjeisy have that I don’t?”

“The most beautiful smile,” she grins charmingly. Andrei playfully narrows his eyes and Brady shoots her a wink. No one’s flirting. Christina’s met Gracia a few times and those two childhood friends are very in love with each other. But it’s worth it to see Andrei squeeze water out of his water bottle in Brady’s face.

“When’s your exam again?” Brady asks.

“January 7.”

“That’s soon.”

She sighs, staring down at her book. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’re gonna be great,” Andrei assures her.

“Sure, if you all actually practice and leave me to study.” As if on cue, a whistle is blown and Christina waves her hand at them. “Shoo. If Rod blames me for distracting you, I’ll be out of a job.”

She takes some notes for a few more minutes before giving up and closing her books. She puts her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on the palms of her hands as she watches them focus on winning board battles and protecting the puck. Practice is more intense than usual today as Christina loses herself in the focused energy in the air, eyes tracking the puck and the players and how they’re positioning themselves around the puck. She almost laughs at herself at how hockey she sounds. Her football loving uncle would be proud and a bit confused.

Practice is over, and Christina decides to stay on the bench until everyone clears the tunnel, knowing that if any players need treatment, Doug has it. He would text her a random emoji if he needed her anyways. Last game, he took a liking to the red-headed fairy.

She squints at Andrei, who’s the only player on the ice now, as he takes shot after shot from the blue line. She just observes him and the determined look on his face, the smoothness in his shot.

As if he can feel eyes on him, he turns around and laughs, before gathering the pucks and skating over to her. “Stalking me?”

“Observing,” she corrects. “How do you feel? Physically?”

“Good.”

“Good,” she says. “You look good.”

“Oh?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She trails behind him as they head to the trainers room. “Don’t forget. Doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“I swear you’re my personal calendar.”

“That’s actually my second job” she says flatly, a smile peeking out after he grins at her. “Go get your protein shake or whatever disgusting thing you like to drink.”

“Sassy today.”

“I want to go home,” she deadpans. “I’ve been up since 5 a.m.”

To his credit, he looks concerned. “Why so early?”

“Studying.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “Well, make sure you sleep. Sleep is important.”

She has to chuckle. “Thanks Svechy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flicks his hand. “Go home.”

“I don’t think you have the authority to tell me that. You’re not my boss.”

“But I am,” they both turn to see Doug peeking out of a doorway. “Get out of here, Chris.”

She narrows her eyes playfully. “You schemers.”

“Go sleep,” Andrei says, pulling at her ponytail lightly. She whacks his hand away.

The last thing she sees as she walks into her office is his smirk.

….

The day before Thanksgiving, she’s preoccupied with her parents and sister flying in for the first half of the day. She picks them up from the airport and takes them all to one of her favorite lunch spots before she has to head to work and they go sightseeing on their own. She offered to get them tickets for the game against Edmonton, but they waved her off. They’ll enjoy their time at a game on Sunday.

Thanksgiving morning is peaceful, with the Macy’s Parade on the TV as everyone is just relaxing. In the afternoon, as Christina and her mom are taking charge of dinner, someone’s knocking on her apartment door. Immediately, Christina is confused. She’s almost positive her dad and Aimee grabbed her keys before heading out for a quick walk. She calls out a “coming” as the person knocks again.

“Andrei?”

He shifts from side to side, flashing a quick but genuine smile. He looks extra cozy in a brown sweatshirt and a backwards hat. “Hi Chrissy. Happy Thanksgiving. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Not at all. Happy Thanksgiving. What are you-what’s up?”

He holds out a cake container. “Uh, I’m heading to Staalsy’s for Thanksgiving at their place, and I made ptichye moloko, which is a cake my mom makes for me back home in Russia. I made two. I was wondering if you wanted the other?”

Her mouth drops open. “Oh, Andrei. That’s…you didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he replies. “And honestly, I hope it’s good. It’s my first time making it and I had to call my mom for help. I made too much batter so, two cakes.”

She laughs, propping her hip against the doorframe, easy smile on her face. “I bet it’s delicious. Thank you. You’re so-you really didn’t have to do this.”

Andrei shakes his head. “I wanted to-“

“Honey?” Marianne’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?” She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before appearing.

Christina internally sighs. “Andrei, this is my mom Marianne. Mom, this is Andrei. He’s one of the guys on the team.”

Andrei balances the cake on one hand while reaching out to shake Marianne’s hand with the other, easygoing smile on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hawthorne. I apologize for showing up without warning.”

“Oh, no apology necessary!” Marianne smiles, and Christina can tell immediately that her mother is charmed. She wants to roll her eyes. “Are you staying for dinner? You’re more than welcome.”

Andrei shakes his head. “No, though thank you for the offer. I’m on the way to our captain’s house. I just wanted to stop by and drop this off.”

Marianne takes the cake from his hands with a delighted smile. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“He made it himself,” Christina chimes in, smirking in his direction. “Hopefully it doesn’t poison us.”

Andrei laughs. “Hopefully.”

The door opens again, and her dad and sister are back from their walk around the block. Christina swallows. Guess he’s meeting the whole family today.

“Andrei, this is my dad Mark and my sister Aimee. Father and Aimee, this is-“

“Andrei Svechnikov,” her dad finishes for her. He and Andrei shake hands and a weird feeling appears in her stomach. “I watch the Canes games from time to time.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” He then turns to Aimee and shakes her hand with a small smile. “You too, Aimee. Your sister talks about you all the time.”

Aimee shoots her sister a look. Christina telepathically tells her to shut up. “Does she really?”

“She does. All good things.”

“It’s good to see you back on the ice again,” Mark says. “How’s the knee?”

“Knee is good,” Andrei says, before casting a smile in her direction. “All thanks to Chrissy here.”

“He’s lying,” she deadpans. “I just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Aimee asks with a hopeful look.

Christina shakes her head. “I wouldn’t subject him to that. He’s going to Captain Staalsy’s.”

“Lame,” Aimee says. Christina elbows her.

“Chrissy mentioned you all were coming to a game?” Andrei asks.

“Yup. We’ll be going Sunday.”

“Have you ever been to a Canes game?” Mark shakes his head. Andrei grins. Christina wants to poke his dimple. “Well, hopefully we put on a good show.”

She snorts. “Alright, Andrei. Better leave before Dad starts grilling you on the powerplay.” Expectedly, Andrei’s eyes light up. He turns to her as she rolls her eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner?” Marianne asks.

Andrei grins. “I’m sure. Thank you though.” He looks back at Christina. “See you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

He turns back to her family with a warm smile. “It was nice to meet you all.”

Christina nods to the door, “I’ll walk you out.” She catches Aimee’s smirk and rolls her eyes. She puts a shoe in the door so that it won’t shut on her as she faces Andrei. “Thank you for the cake. Seriously.”

“Careful,” he teases, and if butterflies flutter in her stomach from his tone that’s no one else’s business. “It could be awful.”

“It won’t be.” She grins and gives him a quick hug before she can overthink it. She pulls away before she wants to. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

She watches him disappear from the hallway before she lets out a deep breath.

…..

The crowd at the PNC arena goes nuts with Andrei scores with less than two minutes left in the third against Columbus. Christina herself bounces around on her toes in excitement, her parents and sister somewhere up in the box seats. What a way to get your first of the season. She feels weirdly proud of him.

She only catches him as she’s heading out a bit earlier than normal to drive back with her family. And by catch him, she only means by eye contact as Andrei’s swept up in media. She stops for a moment and just leans against the doorway of the locker room, watching him answer questions

Christina’s about to push herself off the doorway when Andrei’s eyes meet hers. He’s still talking, but his smile widens, and she just shoots him a thumbs up and a grin of her own before walking to the parking garage.

…..

Christina groans as she skims the email from the management of her apartment complex. Fixing the water pipes will shut down water for 24 hours. It’s not the end of the world, but how inconvenient.

She leans back in her chair, mentally going through her mind to see where she could crash for a whole day last minute. The one friend she would go to immediately is away on vacation right now.

She’s twiddling her fingers as she walks to the locker room, needing to check in with Andrei. But weirdly, he’s nowhere to be found. She’s about to walk out of the room just as Andrei walks in.

“Oh, perfect,” Christina says. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you?”

She tries not to roll her eyes as he follows her back to her office. “Get your ass on the table.”

He laughs, following her instructions as she works on his shoulder. She must sigh without realizing because his eyebrows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she waves him off. “The pipes are getting fixed in my apartment building for a day so I gotta figure out where I’m crashing for the night. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “That must be annoying.”

She shrugs. “It is what it is, but the friend I usually would stay with is away right now, so that kinda has me scrambling. I probably will have to get a hotel room for the night or something.”

“How about you stay with me?”

Christina has her back towards him to take some notes, before she spins back around and raises an eyebrow. “Andrei, no. I can’t-”

“I have a guest room. Multiple guest rooms, actually,” he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s no problem. Serious. It would be like I’m not even there.” She opens her mouth to protest but closes it again, weighing her options. Like he senses her hesitation, he barrels on. “You don’t have to drop money on a hotel. And only for a night, right? Just stay with me.”

She bites her lip in thought. It would save her a lot of trouble. And he’s right, it’s just for a night. “Are you sure?” She says.

“100 percent,” he promises.

“Okay,” she says gratefully. “Thank you. I owe you big.”

“No worries,” he says. “I text you my address. Come over whenever you’re ready. I text you the garage code too in case I’m not home.”

She’s a bit surprised that he just blindly trusts her so much, but he trusts her to handle his body and recovery, which is arguably the most important thing for a professional athlete, so staying in his home is next to nothing.

But it’s a big deal to her. She’s reminded of that when she drives home to grab some things. She’s reminded that her phone buzzes with a text from him, the garage code like he promised, along with what her sushi preferences are — anything, it’s her favorite food. She’s reminded of that as she drives over, immediately feeling overwhelmed at how nice this neighborhood is.

She forgets often that these players are earning more than she ever will. Andrei is a multimillionaire. The cost of his living room alone is probably worth more than a year of Christina’s current monthly rent.

It doesn’t phase her necessarily. It’s just an observation.

As she pulls into his driveway, she sees Andrei coming out of his garage. He perks up with a wave, waiting for her to park her car. He approaches her as she comes out of her car with her backpack.

“Just in time. I grabbed dinner.”

She glances at the bag in his hands and she tries not to gulp at the familiar (expensive) restaurant logo “I could’ve grabbed it on the way here.”

He waves her off as they walk through the garage, him swinging her backpack over his shoulder. “You’re a guest in my home. Why would I make you do that?”

Christina’s not used to this. The chivalry. The acts of service. It all feels a bit too much, especially as he gives her a brief house tour and shows her the guest room. It’s all so minimalistic and clean and expensive and she was not prepared to be staying the night in Andrei’s house today. Or ever.

She jumps in the shower really quickly to wash off the day. It takes her a moment to figure out how to control the temperature. She’s afraid to mess anything up. When she walks back out into the main room, Andrei’s just finished setting up the table. When she spots the familiar label of her favorite wine, she blinks.

He notices her silence and chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked Taylor what your favorite wine is.”

“You could’ve asked me,” she says softly.

He shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you, I guess.”

She hoists herself up on the stool of the island, trying to control the butterflies in her stomach. “Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Being with Andrei in his home is expectedly intimate. She feels very comfortable at work to poke fun at the players and staff. But it’s different sitting for meals in the kitchen at the office compared to sitting across a kitchen island eating sushi that Christina only has when her parents foot the bill. Something as simple as Andrei’s sushi plopping into his soy sauce and her bark of laughter feels almost too much, especially when he chuckles with her at his misery. Because it’s just the two of them in his home and it’s almost too much.

But even if it’s too much, she doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, it’s probably weird how comfortable she does feel, as her and Andrei chat about everything from the team to his brother to her college days. When his dimple pops out and his brown eyes brighten with curiosity, she has to remind herself that she works with him. They’re co-workers at best. Friends possibly.

She gets up to clear their dishes away, but Andrei’s quicker and pushes her shoulder down so she’s sitting again. She gives him a look. “Andrei. Come on. You bought dinner and you’re letting me stay for the night. I can wash dishes.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t need to do anything but sit there all pretty.”

She just blinks and sips her wine because what the fuck.

They debate putting on a movie or show, but end up just hanging out on the couch and continuing to talk because he’s just so easy to talk to. Christina stops herself after her third glass of wine when she remembers she has work tomorrow, and she thinks he’s so sweet for grabbing her a glass of cold water without her even asking.

When they’re winding down for the night, he hovers by the door of the guest room, making sure she doesn’t need anything. When she assures him that she’s all good, he leaves her with a “goodnight” and the cutest smile and Christina knows that she’s fucked.

The next morning, she wakes up to the smell of coffee. When she walks out, yawning and rubbing her eyes, she sees two plates of waffles.

“Good morning,” she says with an air of surprise. “This looks great.”

He chuckles. “Eat it first before you say anything.”

She hums, making sweater paws with her UNC sweatshirt and smiling when he slides over a mug of coffee.

“You sleep well?”

“I did, thank you. You have a very comfy mattress.”

His dimple pops out and Christina can feel herself falling. “You’re welcome anytime.”

That statement doesn’t help either.

After they finish their breakfasts, she yet again isn’t allowed to help with dishes, so she wraps her hands around her coffee and watches him. “Thank you, though, Andrei. Seriously. For letting me stay over. You saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder, catching sight of her packed backpack in the living room. “Are you heading out so soon?”

“Yeah. I have to get into work earlier than you do, remember?” She teases, as she finishes her coffee, hands him the mug and goes to grab her backpack. “I also wanna stop by my place to drop this stuff off and pick some stuff up before heading to the rink.”

He turns off the faucet, wipes his hands and walks over to her. “I was gonna say I’ll miss you, but I see you in probably an hour.”

She laughs, not quite processing what he just insinuated. “Probably.”

“Can I ask you something before you leave?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Her jaw drops open a bit. Oh. “Oh.”

He backtracks. “You can say no. I won’t be hurt. Or, well. I just want to ask to see if you give me that chance. I really like you, Chrissy.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…Andrei. We work together.”

“I know, I know.”

She lets out a sigh, tipping her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. “Andrei-”

“One date,” he practically begs. “Let me take you on one date to prove that this is real to me.”

She swallows, her resolve starting to crumble down from his pleading eyes. “I could lose my job.”

“You won’t. And I wouldn’t let that happen.”

She can’t help but snort. “Carolina loves you, but not that much.”

He pouts before taking her hands. “Christina,” he says sincerely. “Just one chance. And then if it doesn’t go well, we stay coworkers and friends and this never happened.”

“And if it does go well?” She bites her lip.

The dimple appears on his cheek again. She wants to kiss it. “Then we figure out where to go from there.”

“There’s just, it’s not- you’re wonderful and kind and sweet, but I’m putting a lot on the line here.” She feels vulnerable, her voice shaking at the edges. “I’ve worked too hard to have this fall apart on me.”

“I know. I understand.” And huh, Christina thinks. He actually probably does understand more than most, because if Andrei is anything, he's a hard worker. He gently places a hand on her waist and she can’t fucking think. “I wouldn’t ask you just to ask you or risk anything.”

“You like me that much, huh?” Christina jokes weakly.

Andrei squeezes her waist lightly “I do.”

Oh. Okay.

A few more seconds pass with Andrei staring at her hopefully and Christina blinking rapidly. He’s so gentle with her it makes her wanna scream into a pillow.

“One date,” she relents. His eyes sparkle and her smile grows with his. “You have one shot, Svech. Use it wisely.”

“Oh believe me, I will.” He says confidently. “When are you free?”

“My work schedule is the exact same as yours.”

He lets go of her hands to dig into his pocket for his phone, checking the Canes schedule that’s synched up to his calendar. “When we’re in New York. Two weeks from now.”

“New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah. I know we’re already all going out at night but during the day. Just you and me.”

Immediately, her mind goes into planning mode. “Sure, yeah. That works. I have some friends who live in the city I could ask for recommendations for-”

“No,” she tilts her head in confusion at his firm tone. “You don’t worry about anything. I take care of all of it.”

“Andrei.”

“I take care of it, Chrissy.” he repeats, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “All you need to do is show up.”

She opens her mouth and closes it, before, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Will you at least tell me what to wear?”

“Anything. You always look beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes at the fact that he’s already loading on the charm and they’re not even on the date yet. “Nice try. I’m not wearing my work attire to our date.”

“Seems like you already know what you’re wearing, then.”

She huffs before softening. “Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

Andrei clicks his tongue. “Of course. I see you later?”

Christina chuckles. “Yup.”

They walk to his front door, and he hesitates for a second before leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She’s absolutely floored. “Get home safe.”

She gives him one last smile as goodbye. It isn’t until she’s in her car when she leans her forehead on her steering wheel and smiles into it does it fully sink in.

She has a date in two weeks.

…..

No one likes a loss, and even if Christina is kinda immune to it by now, it’s not fun. But the holidays are near and her heart feels light as she packs up her things. Her flight takes off early in the morning, so she’s hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before then. A knock on the doorframe has her looking up to see Andrei dressed back in his game day suit with a light smile on his face.

“Hey,” she greets. “Everything alright? You need treatment?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m okay.” He says, shuffling in and looking a bit sheepish.

Christina hesitates. She’s not sure how Andrei is after a loss, if he likes to talk about it or forget about it. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.” She looks down at his outstretched hand holding a box she didn’t see at first. “What’s that?”

He clears his throat. “It’s, uh, your Christmas present. You fly back home in the morning, yes?”

“Yeah,” she shakes her head. “Andrei, I-I don’t need…I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay.” The annoying thing is that she knows he means that. She tentatively takes the box out of his hand and opens it. Inside is a pair of silver dewdrop earrings.

“Andrei.”

“Uh, I asked Taylor and they told me you wore silver and gave their approval. But if you don’t like them, I can return them and exchange them for-”

“Andrei,” he halts as she looks at him. “They’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to.”

She chuckles shakily, closing the box. “We haven’t even been on our date yet.”

“So?” he shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. But it is a big deal. “You’re important to me. I get everyone important to me Christmas presents.”

Christina wants to melt at the soft look in Andrei’s eyes. She’s a bit at a loss for words, so she just gives him a tight hug. She lets herself fall into him as his arms wrap around her securely, resting her chin on his shoulder and letting her eyes fall shut at how safe she feels.

She reluctantly pulls away and puts some space between them. They are still at work after all. “Thank you. Seriously. You’re so sweet.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he says with a light in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

He shakes his head. “No need.” She gives him a look as he chuckles. “I promise. A date with you is enough presents to last me a lifetime.” Jesus Christ. Where does he pull this shit out of? He just grins. “You heading out? I walk you to your car.”

She swallows and nods, packing up the last of her things, carefully placing the box on top. She makes sure she’s not looking at him when she says her next statement. “You’re way too nice to me.” Silence for a bit besides her rustling her things. Once she’s ready to go, she looks back at him, who’s staring at her thoughtfully. It throws her off guard. “What?”

“I’m not too nice to you,” Andrei says, eyebrows furrowed adorably and sincerely. “I’m just..how I am.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Christina quickly assures him as she flicks off the lights. “I just, uh, am not used to it? None of my exes have ever even treated me this nicely.”

“That’s a shame,” he says. “You deserve someone being kind to you. No such thing as too nice.”

She just swallows as they head down the hallway and to the parking lot. Because what can she say to that? Andrei has always been sweet and polite since the day they met, but she didn’t expect him to be so sincerely earnest.

She slides into the passenger seat of her car and he leans down, resting his hand against the hood. “You’ll be good to go home?”

“Yeah.”

“Merry Christmas, Christina,” he says with a grin.

“Merry Christmas, Andrei.”

…..

Andrei gets a hat trick against Montreal and looks right at her as his teammates converge upon him. She has no idea how he even finds her so quickly considering she’s not standing where she usually would be, but he finds her anyway.

She grins at him and he gives an imperceptible nod paired with his signature charming smile.

Three more days.

…..

Half an hour before Andrei’s supposed to be at her hotel room door, Christina is already ready.

She hadn’t managed to squeeze many details out of him, because he insisted that he would take care of it. It’s not like she doubts him, perse. But she’d at least like to know how to dress so she doesn’t feel out of place. She told him that, and he caved, saying “not a sweatshirt, but a nice sweater or dress will be fine, but not overly fancy,” which, actually, doesn’t say much. But she could work with that.

And she did. When packing for this mini-road trip, she put thought into what she would wear today. She’s settled for a black-neck long sleeve with her favorite dark green pants, paired with black ankle-high boots and her favorite brown peacoat.

As she sits on her bed and waits, she starts becoming more fidgety. She’s nervous, yes, but not because she doesn’t know him. She has a feeling that he’s going to be the perfect gentleman and the date will go well.

She’s nervous that it’ll go too well and she’ll get ahead of herself.

Before she knows it, she hears a knock on her door. With a deep breath, she grabs her bag and walks over to open the door.

She swings it open and swallows. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Andrei says softly. She takes a moment to look at his outfit — a navy blue button up with a gray jacket draped over his arm. With black dress pants and sneakers, she’s thankful that it seems like their outfits match on the formal scale. He clears his throat. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You look great too.”

“Shall we?”

Christina reaches into her purse to make sure she has her room key, phone and wallet before nodding. “Where are we headed?” She asks as they walk down the hall.

“We’ll have to head on the train a few stops to Lincoln Center.” Lincoln Center? She furrows her eyebrows. He clears his throat as they step into the elevator, him leaning against the wall. “Today’s the last day they show The Nutcracker. With your dancing history, I figure, I don’t know, maybe it would be fun?”

Suddenly, a frog appears in her throat. It’s probably the most thoughtful first date she could go on. She looks into his earnest eyes, as if he thinks she’ll hate it or not wanna go.

“It’s perfect,” she manages to get out. He’s perfect. “I-I haven’t seen a ballet in ages.”

“I know,” he responds. “You told me, remember?”

Oh. She did. And he remembered. She bites her lip to keep herself from blurting out that this might be the best date she’s ever been on and they just stepped out of the elevator.

She can tell he’s a bit nervous, quieter than usual. They’re not quite holding hands, but their fingers keep brushing and she feels the ghost of his hand on her lower back as they head down to the subway and onto the train.

“When’s the last time you were in New York City?” He asks.

The train lurches and Christina takes a second to find her footing. “It’s been at least two years. I used to come up here for, funny enough, dance intensives and camps when I was in middle and high school.”

“Are you planning on getting back to classes now that it’s been a few months?”

Again, she’s impressed with the things Andrei actually remembers. She shrugs. “I definitely think I’m still too busy during the season. But maybe in the off-season.”

More people pile onto the train, causing the two to move closer towards each other. She can smell his cologne. She looks up in shock at the feeling of a feather-like kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Saying yes. This will be the best date of your life, I promise.”

She just leans her head onto his elbow as the train runs on its tracks.

As they walk into Lincoln Center, all Christina can do is gape as they find their seats, Andrei leading the way — in the first row of the second wing. It’s a perfect view of the stage with all the formations, lighting and sound. Andrei plays with her hand the whole time and it feels so good to see a dance performance again. During intermission, she gushes over the choreography and costumes as Andrei just smiles, listening intently to her observations. When she suddenly stops and apologizes for rambling, he tells her to keep going. (“I love how much you love dance.”)

Afterwards, they head to a nearby dessert place and share a bowl of shaved ice and ice cream. She’s having such a good time talking with him that it isn’t until the sky becomes dark does she realize they both have to head back to the hotel before anyone questions them and they can get ready for the team and staff New Year’s Eve party tonight.

She swipes her keycard, closing the door as he steps into her room. “Thank you for this. I had a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, biting her lip with a small smile. “I did.”

“A good time enough that you want to do it again?”

“I think so.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are practically sparkling and Christina’s elated that it’s because of her. “I didn't blow my shot?”

She chuckles, “You did.” She doesn't want to tell him that if she’s being honest with herself, he had her from the very start.

“Great,” he grins. “Great. I’m glad you had a really good time. I was really nervous.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh,” she says, walking closer to him and instinctively wrapping her hands loosely around his neck. “You didn’t have to be.”

“You-you always make me a bit nervous, even if I don’t show it,” he admits.

Christina’s stomach tingles. “Can we go on another date when we’re back in Raleigh? Maybe after I take my exam?”

“Yes,” he rushes out. “Of course. Yes.”

She catches his eyes flickering to her lips for a split second and decides to just bite the bullet. She presses a delicate kiss on his lips, and backs away to see a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m gonna go get ready for tonight.”

He chases her lips, causing her to giggle. “Bye,” he mumbles against her lips. “I see you in a bit.”

As soon as her door shuts, she lets out a little squeal into her hands. Happy New Year’s Eve to her, indeed.

…..

Christina’s certification exam happens to fall on a rare week where the Canes have no games, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t want to miss out on any. There are some practices, but she’s excused from those to study.

The day after her exam, she feels a large weight lift off her shoulders. She won’t get the results for a few weeks, but she feels confident that she did well and she can pat herself on the back for a bit.

She comes into practice in high spirits, having gotten a coffee and pastry from her favorite cafe on the way as a treat. She takes congratulatory messages from all the staff and some players with a smile. When Andrei skates up at the start of practice to her on the bench, he just smiles at her, shooting her a quick wink before skating off. She hopes she’s not blushing.

He’s left her alone in the meanwhile while she’s been studying, but she’s hoping to catch him before he leaves the rink today to see when they can go out again.

Unfortunately, the team is in the video room as Christina heads to her office to pack up for the day. She guesses she’ll have to talk to Andrei tomorrow. She could just text or call him, but that doesn’t feel good enough.

When arriving at her car, she stops short and squints. There’s a bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper tucked inbetween the door handle, red roses and sunflowers to be exact.

“Oh good, you haven’t left yet,” she whips around to see Andrei jogging towards her.

She turns back around to her car, staring at the flowers as he stops beside her. “What’s this?”

“A little gift. To congratulate you on finishing your exam.”

She swallows, suddenly emotional. “They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful flowers for a-”

She whacks him lightly. “Don’t finish that sentence, you sap.”

He laughs. It’s becoming one of her favorite sounds. “But I mean it.”

“I know,” she finally turns to look at her and grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you around this week to grab dinner or something?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “You know my schedule more than anyone.” She rolls her eyes as he chuckles. “Of course I am. We’ll find time.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“What should I tell the guys for now?” A sudden flurry of anxiety flashes through her veins. Andrei must see her face change, because he continues quickly. “I don’t have to say anything. We can keep it quiet.”

“Would you mind if we did? Just because it’s so…”

“I don’t mind,” his dimple pops out. “Promise. Let’s just go on another date first. Sound good?”

She bites her lip with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he repeats. His hands itch to reach towards her before he remembers that they’re just outside of the rink and that anybody could walk out at any minute. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow. Thank you for the flowers, seriously.”

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he says, backing away. “You’re so smart and you worked really hard.”

She looks down at her shoes, warmth spreading through her body. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

(When Christina goes home and arranges the flowers in a vase, she sends Andrei a picture. He responds immediately with the heart-eyed emoji, and she feels the excitement of something new starting.)

…..

Christina’s a smart girl. When she gets a text from Doug a few weeks (and more than a handful of dates with Andrei) later to come to one of the conference rooms, she has a feeling it’s about her and Andrei. Though who would’ve said something?

Her stomach drops on the walk over, her palms sweating as she fiddles with her staff badge. When she walks in, she sees Doug, Mary, head of the HR department, Coach Brind’Amour and Andrei himself all around a rectangular table.

Mary offers a warm smile. “Hi Christina.”

Christina tries to smile back while shutting the door behind her. “Hi Mary and everyone.”

“Please take a seat,” Mary says. The only empty one is next to Andrei. Christina gingerly sits down. “I guess we’ll just cut to the chase. It’s come to our attention that you and Andrei here are in a romantic relationship.”

She blinks. Well, yeah. But-“From who?”

“From me.” Andrei says. She whips her head to look at him and he grimaces. “I’m sorry. I know we planned to go together next week, but I slipped up in front of Coach this morning and…yeah.”

“Of course you did,” Christina mutters. She hears Doug trying to cover a snort. “Um, yes, uh, we are. Seeing each other. Together. Whatever you wanna call it. We were going to come to your office next week. We weren’t gonna hide it or anything, I promise.”

“I understand,” Mary says. “First of all, your job is not in jeopardy. You’re not going to get fired because of this. Especially because it’s obvious you two weren’t trying to hide anything. ” Christina knows that, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a little bit relieved. “Workplace relationships occur all the time. However, as I’m sure you both understand, your particular situation is a bit different. I have to ask when you two started this relationship.”

Christina lets Andrei take the lead, partially curious about what he’ll say. He doesn’t hesitate. “New Year’s Eve.”

She smiles internally. It’s nice to know he considers their first official date as serious as she does.

“You do understand that in the workplace, there are boundaries.”

Andrei and Christina both nod. Christina continues, twisting her fingers. “Of course. I’ll obviously continue with my responsibilities as I have been since I joined the organization and continue to do the best I can do with every player and staff member. Our relationship won’t affect that at all, I promise.”

“And I also understand the boundaries,” Andrei adds. “This will also not affect my performance on the ice and off. I continue being professional with all staff.”

“You both understand that no matter what happens that your professional relationship comes first?”

“Yes.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you both understand that when you come into work, you’re at work and focused on work?” They both nod. Mary looks around the room. “I mean, that’s really all I got. It seems like you two understand. I’ll draw out the paperwork and get it back to you two in a few days. Doug?”

Doug clears his throat. “First of all, I called this and Steve owes me $50.” Andrei lets out a surprised laugh but Christina isn’t even fazed. “Only thing I got is that I should probably take you off as the main person of contact for Svech for his general recovery regime we started in the beginning.”

She kinda saw that coming. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Andrei about to protest but she kicks him underneath the table. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“No worries. I’ll just take over. There’s not much to that anymore anyways, right?” She nods. He grins. “Great. As long as you keep doing the good work you’re doing, no issues here. Coach? Anything to add?”

Christina swallows looking at Coach Brind’Amour, but she breathes easier when he smiles a bit. “Nothing really from me. Svechy, you know what I expect from you. That doesn’t change. And Christina, you’ve done your job wonderfully thus far and as long as that doesn’t change, which I’m sure it won’t, no issues here. Do your teammates know, Svech?”

Andrei smirks. “Some of them have probably picked up on it. Nothing for sure though.”

Coach grins wryly. “You can be the one to tell them then, should you want to.”

“You’re gonna get chirped like hell,” Christina snickers, making everyone in the room laugh.

Andrei looks over at her with a small pout. “And you won’t?”

“A little. But you’re the one playing with them. I’m just an lowly assistant trainer.”

Doug cackles. “Chrissy, I think you underestimate how much the boys like you. Get ready for comments everyday.”

“But not too mean,” Andrei says.

Christina snorts. “Down, boy.” She turns back to Mary, Coach and Doug with a smile, feeling more comfortable now. “Is there anything else?”

Mary shrugs. “Besides the paperwork I’ll get you two to sign later, nope. You two are free to go. Thanks for coming in."

They all file out of the conference room while Christina and Andrei linger. Once everyone is out of earshot, she playfully shoves him. “Really?” She deadpans.

“I’m sorry!”

She chuckles. “It’s fine. At least it’s out of the way. Would appreciate a warning next time though.”

He nods solemnly. “I know. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She swallows, before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek and going their separate ways.

(Andrei lingers to watch her turn the corner of the hallway, a big smile on his face. Rod watches him)

…..

three years later

The times that Christina is on the bench has gotten higher and higher the longer she’s been here. Hell, she’s one of few women to this day that has been on an NHL bench as a trainer, which is ridiculous since it’s 2027 and she’s just doing her job. Doug’s son is getting married this weekend so Christina knew she’d be taking over head duties for this game against the Rangers long before.

It’s thrilling every time though, being on the bench. Everything’s so much louder and things seem to move so much faster, even though she’s been doing this for three years. Since puck drop, she’s been in the zone and thankfully so far, not needed.

Until Andrei gets checked. Hard. Which rarely happens since he’s the one usually doing the checking.

Fights break out on the ice, whistles are blown and Christina doesn’t need the ref’s signal — or anyone’s — to know that she needs to scurry out there fast. She’s praying that it looks worse than it is.

She bends down next to Andrei, who’s crouched over in pain and places a gentle hand on his back. “Hey, baby. It’s me. Can you tell me what hurts?” He’s breathing heavily and doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “You have to tell me what hurts so I can help you.” He mumbles something in Russian and while Christina is 90% sure of what he’s saying, she can’t take any risks right now. “English, baby, please.”

“Chest.”

Okay. Lungs. Maybe ribs. He’s talking and breathing fine, even if heavily. “Okay,” she nods, going through her mental checklist rapidly. “Can you skate off by yourself?” He nods and she just rubs his back, giving him a few seconds. He eventually gets up on his own, which is a good sign, and she tries not to eat shit as they both get off the ice and go straight down the tunnel.

Once he’s sat down on a training table, she puts her hands on his cheeks. “Drei. I need to hear the words from you.”

Even in his injured state, Andrei knows. “I’m okay, solnyshka. Just hurting a bit.”

“Okay. Let’s get your gear off and see what’s going on, yeah?” She helps him get off his gear until he’s completely shirtless. “Lie back for me.” She does her routine, pressing in specific spots and seeing how he reacts. She winces every time he hisses, even though it’s helping her determine what’s wrong. She goes through her questions, quickly determining if he’s done for the day or may be able to head back out. It's the end of the second period anyways, so they have more time to assess.

“You got your shit rocked.” She says bluntly. She smiles lightly when she gets the reaction she wants, which is a snort out of him.

“Yeah, which is fucking annoying.”

She swallows. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Think it was more of just an impact hit.”

“Good, good.”

“What are you thinking, Doc?” Andrei jokes. “Am I good to go for the third period?”

“That really depends on you,” she says. “Like you said, it seems like it was more just an impact hit. Beside soreness and tenderness, nothing’s out of place or broken or sprained. But it’s all about how you feel.”

“Then why do you sound unsure?”

“Because I’m trying to talk to you like your trainer, not your fiance.”

Andrei softens and she has to look away. “Talk to me like you’re my fiance, solnyshka.”

“It was just a scary few seconds there, when you didn’t get up. That’s all.”

She swallows as he puts down the ice pack and puts his hands on her cheeks to make her look at him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She waves his apology away. “It’s okay. Getting hit is part of the gig. I know that by now.”

He rubs his thumbs on her cheek. “Still. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just hard sometimes. Seeing you go down. Keep icing,” she instructs, backing away. Christina’s not afraid of being caught with PDA nowadays. Everyone in the organization knows they’re together after three years. But she still prefers keeping up a level of professionalism at work.

“I think I’m gonna go back out, but I do limited minutes.”

She furrows her eyebrows. That doesn’t sound like him. “Limited minutes?” He just shrugs. “Andrei.” She deadpans.

“It depends on me, right? How I feel?” He says, throwing her words back at her as he starts putting his gear back on.

“Yes. But you’re Andrei Svechnikov. You don’t know what the word limited means because you have no sense of self preservation.”

“Limited minutes,” he says firmly. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“The ring on my finger kinda indicates that I’ll always worry about you,” she responds dryly.

He laughs, standing up. “Only for tonight, to be safe.” They hear the boys about to head out for the period and start walking out of the room. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Just doing my job.”

He pulls her in to place a quick kiss on her lips. “And you do it well.”

“Good luck out there. Love you.”

“Love you more.” He runs back onto the ice with his teammates as she follows slower behind.

“He all good?” Coach Brind’Amour asks when she’s back on the bench.

“Yeah. Up to him if he wants to take every shift, but he’s cleared to go.”

Coach nods, “It never gets easier, does it?”

“Hm?”

“The look you had on your face when Svechy went down. It’s the same look I have when my son goes down. Still. And he’s been playing his whole life.”

She shrugs, trying to be casual. “It’s part of the job I signed up for.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

They both watch as the teams skate to center ice to take the faceoff. No, she thinks. It most definitely does not.

It’s close to midnight when she and Andrei are walking out of the arena together. She yawns as she leans into him and he puts an arm around her shoulder. Luckily they have the day off tomorrow. Maybe she’ll force Andrei to try a new recipe for dinner together that she found online.

It’s not until she’s in bed, listening the shower run as Andrei quickly rinses, does she see her notifications. Fifteen texts from six people.

She clicks Layla’s first. It’s a link to a short Twitter video. She clicks on it.

It’s a short clip of the broadcast right after Andrei’s injury, a replay she winces at, cameras showing her running out and all the chaos before they head into the tunnel. But it’s what the commentators are saying that Layla — and all her other friends who sent her messages — are freaking out about.

“Svechnikov seems to be alright, able to get up on his own and slowly skate to the bench, which is always a good sign.”

“Christina, the Hurricanes’ assistant athletic trainer is out there with him, with Doug, the head trainer out for a few games for family obligations. Fun fact, she’s one of the few female athletic trainers in the NHL. Fantastic at her job and an incredible person as well.”

“Another fun fact to those who may not know, Christina and Svechnikov are engaged, getting married sometime next year. And that’s a beautiful Canes love story if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I can imagine it isn’t easy to have to see your fiance go down like that, even if it is a part of her job. They’re both heading down the tunnel now, so we’ll see if he comes back out for the third period. Hopefully he’s okay.”

She locks her phone. It’s been known to the general public that Andrei is engaged. He had posted on Instagram when he proposed. But it had been a silhouette shot and he hadn’t tagged her out of respect for their privacy. Christina’s Instagram is private too, so very few people they don’t personally know had put it together.

Until now, that is.

“You saw it too?” Andrei says, coming out of the bathroom.

“Yeah. A bunch of people sent it to me.”

“And?”

“They didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. What do you think?”

He slides under the covers and kisses her forehead tenderly, “I love being known as your fiance. I’d ask you everyday to marry me if I could.”

“Sap.” She feels him laugh as she leans her head on his chest, drawing circles on his bare skin. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m always gonna be okay. I have you.”

She kisses his lips before yawning, and he reaches over to shut off the lamp.

(When Christina goes into work the next morning, Taylor’s waiting for her in her office. With no greeting, they set their laptop down and press play on a video. It’s a compilation of her and Andrei’s little pre-game ritual they had started a few months after they started dating.

It’s Andrei, usually in his game day suit, and her in the hallway of whatever arena they’re in. He grabs both her hands and kisses her three times. Twice on the lips. Once on her forehead. She always adjusts his collar even if it doesn’t need to be adjusted, and then they’re both off to their separate ways.

Christina had no idea Taylor had been filming this. For years, apparently, if the description in the bottom right of the video indicates anything. 2024, 2025, 2026 and this year, 2027.

“I was gonna originally ask you if I could post it the day of your wedding,” Taylor says as the video ends. “But I also would never post it anywhere without you or Svech’s permission. I’m perfectly prepared to just keep this in the archives and never let it see the light of day.”

“You’ve been filming that all these years?”

Taylor smiles softly. “I have. The clip from last night is everywhere, with the broadcast talking about you two while you’re helping him on the ice. Twitter’s going crazy. And I was thinking, and no pressure at all, but I was thinking that we could post this today. Everyone always loves behind the scenes content, like Marty screaming Svech’s name. I have a feeling everyone’s gonna love this little ritual too.”

The video has been replaying automatically and Christina can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. If you think it’s a good move, I trust you. You’re the social expert.”

“Well, perfect,” they grin. “I’ll catch Svech when he comes in to ask for his permission too.”

Christina snorts. “He’s not gonna say no, I can promise that.”

He doesn’t. Taylor posts the video three hours later. The internet goes nuts. Andrei surprises her with dinner when she gets home after him, two plates of delicious-looking pasta on the table with a candle lit and a vase of fresh flowers. But the most beautiful sight is his dimpled smile.

She kisses him. Hard. It feels like the first time again.)

~*~*~

tag list: @ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs (lmk if you wanna be added!!)

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dangermousie · 2 months ago

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Top Dozen cdramas - 2024

This can obviously change but nothing truly exciting looks to air for the rest of the year so that's unlikely. My Top Dozen for the year are likely be set in stone.

It's a very idiosyncratic list which has two mini dramas, three moderns (!!! for me that's insane) and a lot of vibes dramas.

12 Hard to Find - all vibes all the times. A tragic romance that feels like a Gothic fairytale, this is what minidramas could be.

11 Love In the Desert - out of all the dramas on this list, this is the one that screams most "a good time." It's a romance and visual feast and webnovel madness and sexy good time and it made me cry.

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10 Fortune Writer - a mini that is so smart and meta and fun about narratives and fate and villainy and fighting the story itself. So clever.

9 Derailment - a puzzle and a love story, telling most anything about it would be a spoiler but this story about a rich girl from 2025 who seemingly wakes up in a parallel universe in 2023 in body of a poor doppelganger, and the young man who was in love with the original has everything including addressing what it must feel to people to have a transmigrator possess a loved one.

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8 Tender Light - the ending was just - it's the reason it's not n1. But the rest of this drama about an abused wife and an idealistic young man refusing to bow to societal pressure was just exquisite. It addresses morality and loneliness and complicity and sacrifice. Just incredible. Poetry in motion.

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7 Will Love In Spring - a modern romance cdrama? In my list? Is the world ending? But seriously, this is such a gorgeous, realistic yet intense exploration of love and loss and trauma. It made me utterly reevaluate Li Xian to boot.

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6 Snowfall - this is such a fever dream of a mood piece of a vampire romance, with seriously BDSM and gay vibes, as well as utterly incredible canon age gap ride or die OTP with Ouyang Nana bothering to act for the first time in her life and Vengo Gao embodying a gentleman vampire to perfection. Li Muge remains one of my favorite directors for a reason.

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5 Heroes - the story of three very different men all consigned to the dustheap of history by changing times (the best swordsman in the era of guns, a former imperial guard of a regime about to be overthrown, a constable obedient to obsolete code who studied for imperial exams which got abolished) as the Qing dynasty is about to fall, this has fights, humor, three (!) separate love stories, philosophy and utter and complete heartbreak. The performances, the ideas, the filming and the writing all combine to make a bleak masterpiece with a 99% death rate (I am not kidding, only tertiaries make it out.) If I were in charge, it would get all the awards.

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4 The Legend of Shen Li - the one truly mainstream idol costume hit on the list. It's an adult, passionate xianxia that reunites Zhao Liying and Lin Gengxin as deities and battle powerhouses in a love story that is so full of yearning and passion and intensity I feel like peeking through my fingers. This is everything xianxia romance tries to be and almost never is. This just might be my favorite xianxia of all time, tbh.

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3 Eternal Brotherhood - a dark horse whose existence I didn't even know about before it aired. Visually stunning despite its tiny budget, this narrative about three sworn brothers in a kingdom and world in crisis, is pitch perfect in its humor, its intensity, its tragedy and its themes (also THREE!!!! amazing love stories despite not being a romance-centric show.) The battles, the friendships, the traumas, the darkness at the heart of it all!

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2 Fangs of Fortune - the sole drama that can rival JoL2 for me (only caveat is it's still airing), this is visually the most jaw dropping drama I've ever seen, but it's also high fantasy the way it should be - making me feel so immersed that stopping feels like coming up from a deep dive or waking up from a hypervivid dream. It has impeccable performances (many from actors who I don't normally even like), and its plot and relationships and themes - fate and sacrifice and choice and found family bonds and trauma and so many other things - make it feel as if it was made just for me.

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1 Joy of Life 2 - THE drama of 2024 for me. It's somehow better than the incredible first installment. It's funny, it's heartbreaking, it has insane performances, a narrative that hits all my personally favorite themes (a person trying to remain human in an inhuman world, righteousness not being weak), a large cast of fascinating characters who feel like they live in front of me (there are no throwaway roles in this), my favorite ship of the year (though it's not even a ship-centric show) and above all, Zhang Ruoyun's live wire of a performance as Fan Xian, arguably my favorite cdrama character of all time. It should not work yet it does. Brilliantly.

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#cdrama #joy of life 2 #fangs of fortune #eternal brotherhood #the legend of shen li #heroes (2024)#snowfall #hard to find #fortune writer #love in the desert #derailment #tender light #will love in spring

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breelandwalker · 2 years ago

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Strawberry Moon - June 3, 2023

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. The Strawberry Moon, sadly, does not turn pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

With a full moon in the sky and the summer solstice hot on its' heels, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

With the moon in Sagittarius again this year, it's a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Strawberries are also excellent ingredient in spells for love, beauty, fertility, and emotional healing. Create a charm for self-love or perhaps to attract a summer romance. Enchant your favorite makeup or skin care products with a glamour of confidence. Just as expectant mothers once carried strawberry leaves as a folk remedy for pregnancy pains, you can carry a clutch of them in your pocket to help heal a broken heart or assuage the pain of grief. A packet of strawberry leaves is also a potent good-luck charm. Snack on strawberries to bring fertile abundance into your life, whether you're looking for creativity or opportunity or perhaps hoping to grow your family this year.

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized. (If you're planning to use it for any consumables, please make sure you're using fresh, potable drinking water rather than rain or runoff.)

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Strawberry Moon: Full Moon in June 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Strawberry Moon 2023: The Spectacular Spiritual Meaning of June's Full Moon, The Peculiar Brunette

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

Image Source - Pesto and Margaritas

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witch community #lunar magic #moon magic #witchcraft #strawberry moon #lunar calendar #witchblr #pagan #secular witchcraft #green witchcraft

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simply-ivanka · 6 months ago

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A Minnesotan Sizes Up Tim Walz

During his tenure, student achievement has slipped, crime has surged, and state residents have fled.

By Scott W. Johnson - Wall Street Journal

St. Paul, Minn.

Tim Walz has such a bad record as Minnesota’s governor that I was astonished when he landed on Vice President Kamala Harris’s vice-presidential shortlist. As Minnesota’s Center of the American Experiment has documented, under Mr. Walz Minnesota has become a high-crime state. Student achievement has tumbled as spending on schools has skyrocketed. Per capita gross domestic product has fallen below the national average. Minnesotans have joined residents of New York, California and Illinois in fleeing their home state.

Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro—also on Ms. Harris’s shortlist—made sense to me. Pennsylvania is a key state. Mr. Shapiro seems to be a man of substance and would give liberal Jews a reason to vote for Ms. Harris without a guilty conscience. As a Jewish supporter of Israel, I worried that Mr. Shapiro would give the animus throbbing in the heart of the Democratic Party cover. Indeed, that animus drove a nasty intraparty campaign against him.

But Tim Walz? I’m a conservative Republican. I don’t completely understand Democrats’ ways. As an observer of Minnesota politics, however, I understand how Mr. Walz became governor. Having served six terms in Congress from a rural district, he challenged the endorsed DFL (Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party) candidate—a liberal metro-area state senator, Erin Murphy—in the 2018 DFL primary. Ms. Murphy was also challenged by another metro-area liberal, Lori Swanson, then state attorney general. With Ms. Murphy and Ms. Swanson dividing the liberal urban vote, Mr. Walz and his far-left running mate, former state Rep. Peggy Flanagan, won the primary with 41%.

On taking office in 2019, Gov. Walz was restrained by a one-seat Republican majority in the state Senate—until Covid hit in the spring of 2020. He declared a state of emergency on March 25, 2020, and ruled by decree for 15 months. He proclaimed the emergency on the basis of an allegedly sophisticated Minnesota Model projection of the virus’s course in the state. In fact, the projection reflected a weekend’s work by graduate students at the University of Minnesota School of Public Health. Relying on their research, Mr. Walz presented a scenario in which an estimated 74,000 Minnesotans would perish from the virus. The following week the Star Tribune reported that with the lockdown Mr. Walz ordered, 50,000 would die. Maybe it would have been preferable to address the virus through democratic means.

Having destroyed jobs and impeded life routines, including family get-togethers and church attendance, Mr. Walz finally let his one-man rule lapse on July 1, 2021. When the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center stopped counting in March 2023, the deaths of 14,870 Minnesotans were attributed to the virus. (In 2020 I successfully sued the administration for excluding me from Health Department press briefings on Covid.)

During the state of emergency, protests broke out in Minneapolis on Memorial Day 2020 following the death of George Floyd. That Thursday, rioters burned Minneapolis’s Third Precinct police station to the ground. Mr. Walz didn’t deploy the National Guard until the weekend. Riots, arson and looting throughout the Twin Cities caused about $500 million in damage.

Minnesota leads the nation in Covid fraud. Under the auspices of the Feeding Our Future nonprofit, its founder, Aimee Bock, allegedly recruited mostly young Somali men to seek reimbursement for millions of meals supposedly served to poor students and families. According to indictments handed up by a grand jury to U.S. Attorney Andrew Luger, Ms. Bock and others allegedly defrauded the state and federal government of $250 million. Ms. Bock has pleaded not guilty to the fraud charges.

Among the 70 defendants charged to date, 18 have pleaded guilty. In April the first of the cases to go to trial had seven defendants; five were convicted. The remaining cases have yet to be tried. In all, the Minnesota Department of Education oversaw the payout of $250 million to reimburse fictitious meals. The nature and scale of the fraud are staggering. Mr. Walz tried to blame state district court judge John Guthmann, who in April 2021 handled a case regarding the department’s processing of applications for reimbursements. According to Mr. Walz, Judge Guthmann ordered the state to continue payouts to the alleged perpetrators of the fraud even after the state Education Department discovered it.

In September 2022, Judge Guthmann authorized a news release titled “Correcting media reports and statements by Gov. Tim Walz concerning orders issued by the court.” The release concluded: “As the public court record and Judge Guthmann’s orders make plain, Judge Guthmann never issued an order requiring the MN Department of Education to resume food reimbursement payments to FOF. The Department of Education voluntarily resumed payments and informed the court that FOF resolved the ‘serious deficiencies’ that prompted it to suspend payments temporarily. All of the MN Department of Education food reimbursement payments to FOF were made voluntarily, without any court order.”

In November 2022 Mr. Walz was elected to a second term, and the DFL won majorities in both chambers of the Legislature. In the preceding two years the state had accumulated an $18 billion budget surplus. With the DFL in full control, Mr. Walz and the Legislature have spent the $18 billion surplus on infrastructure, education and other programs that will burden the state for years. They have also raised taxes.

Mr. Walz and his DFL colleagues have backed measures establishing Minnesota as a mecca for abortion and a “trans refuge.” The legislation prohibits enforcing out-of-state subpoenas, arrest warrants and extradition requests for people from other states who seek treatment that is legal in Minnesota. It also bars complying with court orders issued in other states to remove children from their parents’ custody for authorizing hormone treatment or surgery to alter sex characteristics.

Like so many Democrats who have kept up with the demands of the progressive agenda, Mr. Walz has “grown” in office. In his second term, he has been the most left-wing Minnesota governor since the socialist Floyd B. Olson (1931-36). I doubt that Mr. Walz could be elected to Congress in his old district, which is now represented by a Republican. The idea that he can appeal to voters who don’t already support Ms. Harris seems far-fetched.

Mr. Johnson is a retired Minneapolis attorney and contributor to the site Power Line.

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dinotoro · 1 year ago

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i just knew

pairing : myung jaehyun x reader

genre : romance

subgenre : fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers

word count : 1.1k

summary : jaehyun and you have friends since the time big bang happened. you always felt that you two could be more than that. however, jaehyun's perspective on the situation was a bit different.

warnings : none

disclaimer : all character depictions are fictional and in no way represent or depict the actions of the real people.

permanent taglist : mochamvgz , nyxvrse , luvistqrzzz , hyhees , sngvhs

footnotes : this fic is dedicated to my lovely baby sis cinny aka mochamvgz. this was inspired by that one scene in s8 of b99. this was not proofread. i hope you like it <3

release date : October 26th, 2023

The earliest memory that you had featuring Jaehyun and you were when you two were five years old.

It was a pleasant spring day, and your families had decided to host a picnic in the nearby park. Little Jaehyun was told to share his candies with you. Even though he was reluctant, he pushed a lollipop towards you. You smiled widely and accepted it, thanking him softly.

At that moment, Jaehyun felt happy that he shared it with you.

You, on the other hand, were not so compassionate. Since childhood, you hated sharing your things. So when you noticed Jaehyun staring at your last piece of french fry, you felt protective over it. His lips formed a slight pout as if imagining himself eating that. With pleading and puppy eyes, he looked at you.

You just turned your head away and quickly ate the last piece.

You had turned around to see Jaehyun’s reaction and saw that his eyes had turned glassy with tears. Even though something tugged in your heart, you just walked away and sat somewhere far away.

Cut to middle school, when both of you were a bit closer to each other than before. You used to sit beside him and would love to annoy him. He used to say that the purpose of your birth was to be a menace (you could not disagree with that). He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the little shenanigans.

The banter continued till high school. You would present him with a muffin, only to take a bite out of it before him and giggle. He would pout, but would secretly enjoy it. He would let you eat the rest of the muffin while tugging your stray hair strands behind your ear.

You would feel your heart racing, and wishing something you had been wanting for a long, long time - that Jaehyun would become more than just a friend.

When college started, both of you almost stopped meeting. Your heart would hurt, but the situation was out of your hands. Jaehyun was pursuing his dreams of becoming an idol, and you were ecstatic to see him excelling in the field he had always wanted to go in. However, a small part of you yearned to be back to those days when it was just two ordinary friends and not a successful idol and his boring best friend. The insecurities would build up, slowly crumbling your confidence to ask him out.

It was your twenty-fifth birthday and Jaehyun wanted to surprise you. He was in charge of driving, but won’t tell you where he was taking you. You were feeling curious and impatient, but he would only smirk. Seeing you fidgeting restlessly and behaving like a little baby, he kissed your cheek and kept driving. That was an effective method, for your insides were churning and you were feeling warm.

He parked his car a little far away from the location and told you to close your eyes. He kissed your cheek gently again and led you to the place.

When you opened your eyes, it looked vaguely familiar. Jaehyun could see the gears clicking in your head, and replied, “This is the place our parents brought us to for a picnic. It was our first meeting.” Your eyes widened, and you wondered what he had in store.

He handed you a lollipop, and suddenly all the memories started to flood back. You thanked him softly and started eating it. Jaehyun asked, “When were you going to confess to me?”

You froze. He smiled gently and said, “When we were in high school, I remember that you had written a small note where you had confessed. You thought you had discarded it, but you had kept it on my desk. At first, I was confused, wondering if it was an accident or whether that was your way of confessing. But when I saw you not saying anything or even anticipating any reaction or reply, I understood that you did not mean for that note to reach my eyes. However, the cat was out of the bag.”

You turned towards him, your teeth holding onto the lollipop like it’s your emotional support. Embarrassment coursed through your veins, and your palms started to sweat. You took the broken lollipop out and said, “I am sorry. I was…scared. I did not want to ruin our friendship.” The sunset looked beautiful, the breeze gently blowing Jaehyun’s hair askew. The last rays of the sun illuminated his face, giving him a golden sheen. He looked perfect, and you felt something heavy pit in your stomach.

He kept looking at you, a small smile adorning his face. He was waiting for you to continue, and expression encouraging you to do the same. You said, “I mean look at you. You are so perfect. You are a great son, a great friend, a great idol, a great leader… I could never compare. How could I even ask you for something, when I knew I was not worth it? Look at your status and look at mine. Wouldn’t it be a harsh joke? Wouldn’t my rash decisions and feelings ruin everything?” As you were telling him about your feelings, you could feel tears rushing into the corners of your eyes. Jaehyun noticed this and hugged you gently, to which you rested your head on his chest and cried. It felt good to finally confess, but at what cost? Did you lose everything now? Did you lose him?

Jaehyun kissed the top of your head and hugged you tightly. It felt like he had returned home, in the arms of his loved one. He said, “Y/N, you should not jump to conclusions like that. You know I love muffins, but I always let you eat those. I love french fries, but you love them more. I would gladly sacrifice all my french fries for you because I love you more, and seeing you happy after eating them is better than eating them myself. I know that for you, it might have a slow realisation, but for me, it has been you. It has always been you. It will forever be you. I love you.”

You looked up at him, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. He was slightly teary too, but those tears were of joy. He kissed your forehead and smiled widely. He knelt on one knee and asked, “M’lady, will you be my girlfriend?” You nodded, and he got up and hugged you again.

You might have taken some time to see the blooming love between you two, but for Jaehyun - he knew. He always knew.

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x-press-it · 2 months ago

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Devilish Desires - 5/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers.

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited.

Finally, we're here! I had this chapter partialy written since ages (I think it was the first one I wrote) and it's now out for you to read \o/ It's time for some revelations :D (Sorry in advance for the bucket of lore coming your way XD ) I'm so excited, I really hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I liked writing it :D It's time to feed the hunger again :D

Need some music? I've got you I wrote the second scene with this particular song in repeat

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 5/8

Word Count: 8.7K / 60K+ for now

The hum of the Danger Room felt more intense from the command center, each vibration resonating in Logan's bones as he leaned against the console, eyes locked on the floor below. It had been two days since the sparring session, and in the day that followed, the team had decided E would face this trial. Logan had offered them a few words of advice about the Danger Room's unpredictability—the way it tested not only skills but instinct and resilience. Now, as night had fallen, the room thrummed with anticipation.

On the other side of the glass, E stood in the center of the vast metallic space, their posture deceptively relaxed. But Logan’s keen eyes could see the tension in their muscles, coiled like a spring, ready to be unleashed. Their hair was down, swept back into a half ponytail to keep it out of their eyes, but still falling like a thick curtain down their back, where the glint of metal—perhaps just a trick of the light—flickered beneath. The simple sport attire they wore clung to their frame, unadorned except for the three bracelets catching the cold light on their left wrist, while their bare feet flexed against the smooth floor. Their gloved fingers twitched, as if itching for movement, a restless energy building in the charged silence, waiting for the simulation to come up around them.

“They look confident,” Jean remarked, eyes narrowed with mild curiosity, but there was an edge to her voice. Logan didn’t respond, jaw tightening. There was no point sharing how skilled E was; they were about to witness it with their own eyes.

“They better be more than just confident,” Scott muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he cast a skeptical glance at Charles. The professor remained composed, hands folded on his lap, as if waiting for something only he could anticipate. With a few practiced keystrokes, Hank finally configured the simulation.

Below them, the virtual reality sprang to life, the soft whisper of machinery and the flicker of artificial lights surrounding E's silhouette. The walls shifted, blocks emerging from all around the room as pixels spread over their surfaces, multiplying and transforming into the textured sprawl of an urban maze—alleys and crumbling rooftops taking shape around them. The objective was simple: evade, outmaneuver, survive. A test of adaptability.

E moved, graceful and quick, weaving through the fake streets, their movements precise and calculating. Logan's eyes followed every twist, every sudden dart, watching as their focus turned sharp. He knew that they were dancing on the edge of instinct and training, the latter being a completely new experience.

“Fast,” Kitty admitted, a touch of surprise lacing her words.

Scott's arms tightened across his chest, eyes fixed on E as they moved fluidly through the simulation. “Speed doesn’t always win fights,” he countered, his gaze unwavering as he frowned at the holographic city. The hint of critique in his tone made the others nod in agreement, their silence suffocating.

But Logan couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, a brief flash of irritation twisting his features. He masked it quickly by clearing his throat, but the sharp sound had already drawn their attention. Eyes shifted to him, brows lifting in question, but he remained silent, jaw set tightly as he turned his gaze back to the floor below.

“I don’t see why you insisted on this, Charles,” Hank said, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room. His analytical eyes narrowed slightly as E’s pace faltered. What was happening? Logan's hands twitched at his sides—something was wrong. Tension rippled through the command center as each person silently judged every move they witnessed. E was keeping up, for now, but not without effort.

“Yeah, what’s so special? Just another pretty face with tricks,” Bobby added with a short, dismissive laugh. Logan’s jaw clenched tighter, muscles shifting under his skin.

Charles steepled his fingers, leaning forward in his wheelchair with an unreadable expression. “Patience, my friends. There’s potential there. Untapped, but it’s there,” he said calmly, though the confidence in his voice was met with a few skeptical glances.

Logan’s teeth ground together as he watched them scrutinize, his muscles coiled with something raw, protective. This wasn’t just a trial for E; it felt like a trial for him, too, as if every dismissive comment was a thinly veiled accusation that he was thinking with something other than his brain.

Suddenly, a part of the simulated cityscape fractured with a metallic groan and came crashing down toward E. They twisted sharply, eyes wide, narrowly rolling out of the way as debris shattered where they had just stood. Dust plumed around them, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to slow. Logan's hands clenched around air, claws itching, muscles flexing as if ready to leap down there himself.

The murmurs intensified, no longer masked by civility. Each comment jabbed at Logan, who could see the slight stutter in E’s movement below—a shadow of hesitation—as the room adjusted, shifting to create new streets ahead while the terrain behind dissolved seamlessly into nothing.

“That was close. They’re fast, sure, but is it enough?” The criticism in Scott’s voice was borderline caustic, hitting Logan like a sudden blow to the stomach.

“Enough!” he said, voice cutting through the low chatter. Heads turned, surprised. He rarely broke his silence, rarely defended anyone outside his trusted circle. “You all stepped into that room as first-timers once, too.” The statement wasn’t loud, but it was like a shot ringing out, silencing any further mutters.

Silence hung for a breath. They exchanged glances, eyes sharp with wariness, doubt simmering just beneath. The shift was palpable, the tension stretching taut as realization sunk in: they thought he was under their influence, as if E’s enigmatic pull was some kind of intoxicating drug.

Below, E stumbled, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through their poise. The sight struck Logan, a sudden twist in his gut. “That’s it,” he muttered, blood boiling, as he pushed off from the console, ignoring the startled looks as he strode toward the door.

“Logan, where are you—” Jean started, but he was already gone, the metallic door sliding shut behind him.

Their back pressed against the rough façade of an artificial, crumbling building, muscles taut as they scanned the street past the corner they were hiding behind, E’s heart raced. The air hummed with the ambient sound of clanking metal and distant combat. The Danger Room was more relentless than they had expected, its projections more immersive and intricate than they could have imagined. Every inch of their being screamed for focus, but exhaustion—and most of all, hunger—gnawed at their resolve. The weight of the command center's watchful eyes, laced with thinly veiled animosity, chipped away at their energy reserves, a constant, draining reminder of how unwelcome they truly were. They had known this would be difficult, but not this punishing.

As they prepared to move forward, a flicker of movement caught their attention—a shimmering distortion in the air, just a few feet from them, cracking the illusion for a heartbeat. What now? Frustration and irritation surged within them as the projection rippled, revealing a familiar form stepping through the pixels. E’s eyes widened in surprise. Logan. His expression was stormy, unreadable as always, with a raw determination etched on his face. The glint of his left claws, half-drawn, made their breath catch for a split second before they realized he wasn’t there to attack. He moved swiftly to hide beside them, his back pressed against the artificial building. The air between them buzzed with the charge of their connection. Concern.

“What the hell are you doing here?” E whispered, their voice harsher than intended. The slight breathlessness in their tone betrayed them, and Logan’s keen senses didn’t miss it, catching the faint tremor at the edge of their stance.

His brows furrowed, deepening the lines carved by years of battle and unyielding reliability. “You look like hell,” he said bluntly, eyes searching theirs for the truth they stubbornly tried to hide. Up close, E could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his instincts coiled tight. The primal protectiveness that had driven him past Jean’s concerned call was written in every line of his posture.

Above them, in the observation deck, the palpable, hostile energy grew, stoked by Logan’s intervention. E gritted their teeth, feeling its force like a storm pressing down on them, threatening to break through their resolve. They held their breath, adapting to the oppressive weight with each rapid heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” E countered sharply once they regained control of their voice, though the claim rang hollow. They turned away, ready to press on, but Logan’s voice caught them like a tether.

“You’re not,” he growled, inching closer, casting a shadow that darkened the line of their vision. The cold, glaring artificial sun above was a poor mimic of real warmth, but Logan’s presence radiated heat, grounding them amidst the surreal chaos.

A silence stretched between them and E hesitated, a moment’s pause in which the weight of their exhaustion threatened to spill over. The edge of their allure had dulled, they knew it—no subtle shimmer beneath their skin, no echo of energy. Where vitality had thrummed, there was now a draining emptiness, a void that was craving his touch, his admiration.

Logan’s gaze sharpened as he took in the rapid rise and fall of their chest, the glazed weariness in their guarded eyes, the dullness to their horns, the fine sheen of sweat glistening on their neck, and the way their fingers twitched inside their gloves as if struggling to suppress a tremor. He couldn’t ignore how different they seemed from the fierce, fluid form they’d shown two days ago. His instincts screamed at him to act, to pull them out of this self-inflicted trial.

“E,” he said, his tone softer now, the rough edge replaced with something raw, familiar. His right hand lifted, hesitating before landing on their shoulder, a steady weight that offered comfort.

They met his eyes, the defiance in their stare wavering briefly. For a breath, the noise of the Danger Room dulled, replaced by the heat between them. The test, the hunger, the harsh judgments—everything faded as Logan’s gaze anchored them. They nodded once, forcing a small smirk that Logan didn’t buy for a second.

“I’m good enough,” they murmured, the sharp edge of confidence slipping.

Logan didn’t flinch. His gaze didn’t waver, and the concern etched into his rugged features went far deeper than simple vigilance. It was something fiercer, more personal. “Don’t push it. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I do, actually,” E said, glancing at the command center before meeting his eyes again.

The animosity above seemed to swell, the silent disapproval pricking at them like thorns, likely fed by Logan’s gesture. They rolled their shoulders, shrugging off his hand in an effort to appease the unspoken hostility growing from the observation deck. They couldn’t keep up with this for much longer. They had to end this soon, or the consequences—ones they wouldn’t dare imagine—would catch up to them.

With a deep breath, they set their jaw, the mask of sharp confidence snapping back into place. Pushing off from the wall, they squared their shoulders.

“Let’s finish this,” they said, their voice steady despite the strain.

Logan didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes as he fell into step beside them spoke volumes. This was no ordinary training exercise. The stakes had shifted, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to them.

With a shared glance, they pushed forward, moving through the chaos. The mechanical whisper of the Danger Room came back to life around them, roaring in E’s ears as they navigated the labyrinthine maze of twisted metal and simulated war-torn streets. Every turn, every shadow, tested their resolve. Every step was weighted by exhaustion, their body teetering on the edge of collapse, finding strength only in Logan’s unwavering presence at their side. The extraction point glimmered in the distance, a brief beacon of hope.

But that hope was short-lived.

A metallic groan rumbled through the air as a shadow stretched across the ground. E’s eyes snapped upward, and their breath caught in their chest. Towering above them, metal plating glinting under the harsh artificial light, stood a sentinel—its towering form ominous and all too real. The red glow of its eyes sent a shiver down their spine as it powered up, joints whirring with deadly intent.

“What the actual fuck?” they whispered, eyes wide as a brilliant laser beam split the air, barely missing them. They dove to the side, rolling onto the cracked pavement and pushing themselves up against a wall for protection, breathless.

Logan’s gaze darkened as he pressed his back next to them, his eyes narrowing to sharp slits as he processed the sight. “Really, guys?” he muttered, low and venomous, clearly directed at Scott and Hank, who undoubtedly had a hand in programming this nightmare. Fury coiled tight in his muscles, but he didn’t let it show. There was no time for anger—only action.

“What’s that thing?” E’s voice, despite its edge, wavered.

“Listen,” Logan said, gripping their arm and forcing their wide eyes to lock with his. “That’s a sentinel. A robot designed to kill every mutant it sees. We need to take it down.” His voice was as unyielding as steel, but beneath it lay something softer—belief. He trusted them.

E’s pulse hammered against their temples, but Logan’s resolve wrapped around them like a shield, momentarily blunting the razor-sharp hostility pricking at them from the command center. They nodded, swallowing hard as they reached behind their back, fingers parting the curtain of their black hair as they curled around the cool texture of two big metal rings. With a swift motion, they pulled the circular weapons free, their sharp edges catching the artificial light. Chakrams.

Logan’s brow arched, the barest hint of amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you—”

He didn’t get to finish. The sentinel’s red eyes flared, and another beam cut through the air. E’s eyes widened as they registered the attack a heartbeat before it struck. With a surge of adrenaline, they shoved Logan hard, propelling him out of harm’s way as they dove in the opposite direction. The ground shook beneath them as the beam exploded against the wall, scorching the surface where they'd stood mere seconds ago, debris scattering like shrapnel.

They hit the ground with a grunt, pain sparking up their shoulder, but there was no time to dwell on it. Pushing themselves up, E glanced over at Logan, who was already rising, eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and admiration.

“No time to chat, pretty boy,” E muttered, gripping their chakrams between their indexes and thumbs as they locked eyes with him. Logan gave a sharp nod, the sound of his claws unsheathing a cold metallic promise.

Together, they moved with the seamless coordination of two souls bound by an unspoken connection—like a red thread pulling them through the chaos, guiding their every move. E darted forward, using their agility to keep the sentinel’s attention, chakrams slicing through the air with deadly precision. Each throw found a weak point—joints, sensors, anywhere that could be chipped away to disrupt its functioning—before returning to their fingers, drawn back by the essence they had infused into the circular weapons long ago. The sentinel’s massive hand swung in retaliation, narrowly missing them as they twisted out of its reach.

Logan took the opening, charging up the sentinel’s back with the ferocity of a man who knew how to make every second count. His claws gleamed as he latched onto the metal plating, scaling the behemoth with a speed that defied logic. Sparks flew as he plunged his claws into the nape of its neck, tearing through wires and circuits with a snarl.

The sentinel stuttered, its movements jerking as it faltered. With a final, violent lurch, it began to collapse, metal shrieking as it toppled forward like a giant felled by time itself. Logan leapt down, landing in a crouch just as the robot crashed to the ground with a sound that echoed through the chamber.

E turned, breath heaving, as the dust settled around them. Relief surged in their chest, but the victory was fleeting. A sudden noise—an ominous creak—rippled through the air. E’s eyes snapped up just in time to see a chunk of debris, dislodged from a nearby structure, plummeting toward them.

Before they could react, Logan was there, moving faster than seemed possible. He grabbed them by the waist, yanking them to the side as the debris smashed into the ground where they had just stood. The impact threw up a pixeled cloud of dust, metal dressed in a stone-like sheen skittering across the cracked surface.

Logan’s arm stayed wrapped around them, the weight of his protective embrace more solid than the chaos surrounding them. For a moment, everything was silent except the pounding of their hearts. E looked up at him, eyes wide and stunned, and caught the raw, unguarded look on his face—one that spoke of fear and relief mingled with something deeper.

“You good?” he rasped, voice low and tight.

E nodded slowly, catching their breath as he released them from his hold. The warmth lingered on their skin and their throat became dry, forcing them to clear it. “Yeah,” they whispered, the reality of their near miss finally sinking in. The sentinel was down, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. Though, with Logan’s eyes locked on theirs, the weight of the hostile energy above felt a little less suffocating.

Around them, the holographic shield shimmered and fizzled out, leaving an eerie silence in its wake as the walls of the Danger Room shifted and retracted, returning the space to its usual stark, featureless expanse. The air was thick with tension, the adrenaline still pumping in their veins.

E couldn’t help but smirk, the exhaustion still gnawing at them but not enough to mask the small victory. “I think we make a pretty good team,” they said, their voice betraying the tremor of weariness that ran deep.

Logan shot them a sideways glance, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the concern still written on his face. “Yeah, just don’t get used to me saving your ass,” he muttered, though his words lacked the usual bite. Beneath the gruff tone, there was something softer—almost affectionate.

E raised an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in their tired gaze. “Oh, don’t worry,” they teased back, reaching behind and slipping their chakrams into the small crochets sewn into the back of their tunic, where they rested securely, hidden beneath their long, disheveled hair. They opened their mouth to say more, wiping sweat from their neck, but before the words could form, the door to the Danger Room slid open with a hiss.

Logan’s instincts flared to life, sharper than ever. He moved in front of E without hesitation, his broad form a solid wall between them and the approaching team. His eyes darkened with barely suppressed rage, chest heaving as he fought to control it.

“What the hell, guys?” Logan’s voice cut through the silence, rough and seething. “This was supposed to be training. You used a fucking sentinel? On someone who’s never used the Danger Room before?” His glare was as raw as his voice, daring anyone to challenge him.

Scott’s jaw tightened, meeting Logan’s gaze with a stoic defiance. “We needed to see what they could do in a non-controlled environment,” he countered, his cool tone only fueling Logan’s fury further. The tension between them thickened, crackling with unspoken animosity.

Logan took a step forward, fists clenched, eyes blazing with unrestrained aggression. His face flushed red, a clear warning that he was dangerously close to losing it.

“Logan.” The calm, steady voice of Charles Xavier sliced through the tension, his wheelchair gliding smoothly between them. His eyes held a mix of reproach and understanding. “It was indeed a bit too much,” he acknowledged, addressing the group. “But we’ve learned something valuable. E showed they can work with the team. They fought well with Logan.”

A small scoff escaped Scott’s lips, the sound turning Logan’s rage into a furnace. “Of course, they did,” Scott muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking between them. “It’s easy for lovers to fight in sync.”

The words struck like a match to gasoline, igniting the fire in Logan’s chest. His jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. He moved forward, but a cold hand—trembling, far lighter than it should have been—landed on his forearm. The movement froze him, and he glanced down, meeting E’s gaze. Their face was pale, drawn, the defiance in their eyes replaced with an exhaustion so profound it was almost tangible. Their knees buckled slightly, and in an instant, Logan’s anger was gone, replaced by a wave of deep, gut-wrenching concern.

He reached out, catching them in his arms, steadying them as their body swayed. “Easy,” he growled, his voice softening, becoming more protective. His focus shifted entirely to them, every instinct urging him to shield them from the glare of the team.

With a quick glance at the others, Logan’s eyes hardened again, colder than ice. “This isn’t over,” he spat, teeth bared in a silent promise, his words dripping with warning. He didn’t care to explain further, focusing instead on E. Without another word, he gently guided them out of the Danger Room, his movements deliberate as he shielded them from the questions, the stares, and the storm he would unleash later.

For now, only one thing mattered—getting them out of there and making sure they were okay.

The walk to E’s bedroom felt longer than it should have. Logan's arm stayed firmly wrapped around their waist, guiding them as their steps faltered. They leaned on him heavily, their usually sharp gaze clouded with exhaustion.

When they finally reached the door, Logan pushed it open, leading them inside and helping them sit down on the edge of the bed. E reached over their shoulder, carefully pulling the chakrams from their tunic and placing them on the bed beside them, the metallic weight a comfort against the soft fabric. With a sigh, they removed their gloves, setting them beside the weapons.

Logan stayed close, his eyes scanning their face, searching for any sign of what was wrong. Their breathing was ragged, an unusual warmth radiating from them as sweat slid down their skin. Their fingers clutched the blanket beneath them, as though it was the only thing holding them steady.

He sat beside them, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn’t want to leave, not when they looked like they were hanging by a thread.

“Logan…” Their voice broke, weaker than he’d ever heard it, and a tremor ran through them. There was more than just exhaustion—there was fear in their tone that made something in his chest tighten.

He shifted closer, brows furrowing as he studied them. “You okay? You look like hell.”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped them, but there was no humor in it. “Thanks… exactly what I needed to hear.” The words came out flat, without their usual teasing edge. They tried to stand, legs trembling beneath them. “I just need an hour… outside, and I’ll be fine. It’s… nothing.”

Logan’s reflexes were quicker than their unsteady movements. Rising too, his hand shot out, grabbing their arm before they could collapse. “No way in hell you’re goin’ anywhere like that. You’re burnin’ up.”

“I’ll be fine…” E muttered, trying to pull away, but there was no strength behind it.

He tightened his hold, eyes narrowing. “Are you on somethin’? Drugs?” His free hand shot to their forehead before settling on their cheek, searching their eyes for any sign of intoxication.

They laughed again, hollow and cracked, leaning into his touch instinctively. “I wish it were that simple.”

Logan’s frustration flared, his patience thinning as he gripped both their shoulders between his hands. “What do you mean by that?”

Their eyes met his—dark and shadowed with exhaustion, and something else. Something resigned. “I can’t live on food alone, Logan. I need… more.”

“The hell does that mean?” He wasn’t sure if he was angry, worried, or both. No, definitely both.

They swallowed hard, gaze falling as their voice dropped to a whisper. “Emotions. Desire, joy, lust… worship.” The last word left their lips like a breath, carrying a desperate weight that made his gut twist.

He went rigid, realization dawning on him. It was starting to make sense—the way they came at him at first, their playful behavior, the way their energy surged when they sparred, how they seemed to pull at him without even trying. It wasn’t just empowerment, it was sustenance.

“Negative energy drains me,” they continued, each word sounding like it took effort. “Criticism, doubt, disdain… it’s why I’m like this. Because of the team’s… distrust. But you… you’re like a damn buffet to me.” Their gaze locked onto his, more serious than he’d ever seen it, a deep, ravenous hunger veiling their vision. “Your healing ability… it’s dangerous for me. It makes me want to eat you alive. It’s hard to resist.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, processing their words. Finally, he asked, “So, what the hell do you need to feel better?”

E’s hand trembled as it reached up to cup his cheek. Their touch was light, hesitant, but it felt like fire against his skin. “There’s a solution… but I won’t force you. I’d rather die than hurt anyone again.”

Logan’s eyes searched theirs, taking in the raw pain and sadness—a vulnerability he’d only glimpsed until now. Something deep inside him shifted.

“If I can help… just tell me.”

Their eyes flashed with desperation, a glimmer of something dark and intense. “Kneel.”

He stiffened, caught off guard. The command hung between them like a challenge. Their tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried weight he couldn’t ignore. He could push back, deflect, but then they whispered, “Please.” The word, almost a cry, trembled out of their lips.

The softness of it cut through his defenses. With a grunt, he exhaled sharply and sank to one knee, his eyes never leaving theirs, still unsure but unable to pull away.

E moved closer, the fabric of their sweatpants brushing against his nose, their unique scent—spice wrapped in smoke—filling his senses and clouding his thoughts. Their tail slipped free, caressing his cheek like a soft, warm breeze. As the energy between them shifted, Logan caught sight of their horns subtly lengthening, the tips darkening to a crimson hue that shimmered with a subtle pulse.

“Is there anything about me you find attractive?” Their voice was softer now, teasing but tinged with need.

Logan's gaze flickered to their hips for the briefest moment before he forced himself to look back up. “Maybe,” he muttered, heat pooling in his lower belly.

E sighed, their tail trailing down his neck. “I can feel that. Your pulse… it’s quickening. It’s not enough to make me better… but it’s a start.”

Their fingers slid into his hair, gentle but firm, tilting his head back slightly. “Tell me, Logan. What would you do to me if I let you touch me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath shallow, unable to fight the images their words conjured. The pull in his chest tightened as if they tugged on it, firm and relentless. His voice dropped, low and feral. “I’d… I’d hold you by the hips. Smell you.”

E shuddered at his confession, eyes closing as they soaked in his desire, a deep sigh escaping their lips. The strength they had lost was starting to return, slow but sure, coursing through their veins like a lifeline.

“You’re not allowed to touch me,” they whispered, their voice more commanding now as they felt his muscles tense under their tail. “But I grant you the right to imagine it.”

The impact of their words hit him harder than he expected, his reason struggling to keep control. His jaw clenched, and he felt E’s hand lightly combing through his hair, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of heat down his spine. The weight of their touch made his blood rush faster, thrumming beneath his skin, coaxing everything he’d tried to keep buried to the surface without apology.

“Keep going,” they ordered in a breath. “What else do you want to do to me?”

Logan groaned low as E's hand tightened in his hair, forcing his gaze to meet theirs. Their eyes burned with something primal, hunger so raw that there was no room for hesitation. He knew that look, but this time, it wasn’t controlled or smooth—there was desperation hidden beneath it, like a storm tearing through their soul, destroying everything in its wake. And that desperation was pulling at him, unraveling every shred of restraint he had left.

E's lips curled into a smile as they felt his struggle. “Tell me, pretty boy,” they cooed softly, their voice laced with an intoxicating sweetness.

He clenched his teeth, eyes shutting tight, fighting to push back the images flickering through his mind. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit it. But their power, the praise, their sultry words, were messing with him in ways he couldn’t resist, coaxing out the desires he kept buried deep inside. The energy swirling around them was intoxicating.

E's fingers curled tighter, pulling his head back, forcing him to look at them again. “Use your words. Be a good boy,” they continued, their tail caressing his neck. “You know you want to.”

Logan growled, fighting the urge to let it all out. The shame mixed with desire was like a drug to them. He could feel it—E's energy was returning, and with it, the confidence they had lost just moments ago. Their posture shifted, becoming more commanding, more certain, towering over him.

“Words! Now!” Their voice crackled like thunder in his mind, no longer a request but an order, sharp and insistent.

His pulse pounded in his neck, and he knew they felt it too—the barely controlled beast inside him, clawing to break free. “You sure you can handle that?” he muttered, voice rough and strained, as though dragging each word up from the depths of his soul. The restraint cost him dearly, but their nearness made it impossible to hold back.

E’s eyes, dark with a hunger that now matched his own, met his. “I need it, Logan. I need you.”

The simple admission shattered the last of his resolve. Their gaze pulled him in, command and vulnerability twisting him tighter. His breath came harsh, uneven, his lips parted as the words slipped out before he could stop them. “You want to know what I’d do?” His voice dropped to a low growl, fingers curling at his sides, desperate to act on the vivid images in his mind. “I’d pull you so close there wouldn’t be an inch left between us. Make you feel every bit of what you’ve done to me.”

A shiver ran through them, their chest rising as they drew in a shaky breath. The tension between them thickened, electric. Confidence surged in them, and they leaned into him, letting his energy flow through them like a wildfire finding dry kindling, a soft laughter bubbling in their chest.

“Don’t stop.” Their voice, now more than a whisper, carried an edge of authority. “Tell me everything that runs through that gorgeous head of yours.”

Logan’s breath hitched, muscles tensed with the war waged inside him. His gaze turned predatory, and he felt the last barrier of control splinter. He drew closer, his forehead almost touching their leg, so their scent—spice wrapped in smoke—was the only thing filling his thoughts. “I’d take my time… pulling your pants down. Start with your thighs, kiss every inch—”

Something snapped inside them. E gasped, the intense rush faltering as their grip on the bond loosened. A sudden softness overtook their movements, the intoxicating power that radiated from them wavering.

They stepped back abruptly as they came back to their senses, eyes wide with a mix of concern and regret. The haze in Logan’s mind lifted, confusion colliding with clarity, his pulse still thrumming with the heat of the moment. He blinked, shaking his head as he caught his breath, eyes searching theirs. “What… what was that?” he asked, his voice soft with confusion.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful,” they whispered, kneeling in front of him, their hands trembling slightly as they reached for his cheek and shoulder, their composure slipping. E’s fingers brushed back a strand of his hair, gentle. “I got carried away. It… can happen sometimes, when the hunger is too strong. I lost control. I pushed too far. I’m so sorry.” They studied him, their eyes scanning his face for any sign of damage. “Are you okay?” E asked softly, their voice more tentative now.

“I guess so,” Logan muttered, still unsure of what had just happened.

E slowly rose to their feet, one hand extended toward him. He exhaled, the last embers of their moment cooling, and took their offered hand. The tension between them now mixed with lingering desire and mutual understanding.

Logan felt the force of E’s strength as they effortlessly pulled him up, the realization hitting him that they were back to their full power. Despite the energy that coursed through them, embarrassment was written all over their face. “Thank you, Logan.” Their voice still carried the worry they’d shown a few seconds ago. He caught the shift in their demeanor, but his response came naturally. “It’s okay.”

E, however, wasn’t so easily soothed. Sitting on the edge of their bed, they shook their head, avoiding his gaze. "No. It’s not okay," they muttered. "A normal person could have been seriously hurt from that.” Their words trailed off, and Logan could see the craving still burning behind their eyes—a flicker of something deeper, darker, barely restrained. “Good thing you heal fast…"

Their horns had returned to their smaller size now, but he knew that look. The hunger wasn’t gone.

Logan’s eyes couldn’t leave them, and he sat beside them, the bed protesting under his weight. "You're not done, are you?" His tone was blunt but laced with understanding. "You need more."

E sighed, and for a moment, their confident, commanding presence crumbled, leaving them looking small, vulnerable, and uncertain. "Yeah, I do," they admitted quietly. "I've been hungry… for most of my life. Pretty much since the day I awakened… which cost me someone’s life."

Logan didn’t push for details, though the weight of their words hinted at a story full of pain and regret. If they wanted to share it, they would. He wasn’t the type to force anyone into reliving their worst memories.

Instead, he asked a more practical question. "How do you usually deal with it? The hunger, I mean."

E's gaze shifted, as if deciding how much to tell him. "I find people who agree to let me… feed on them." The word clearly didn’t sit right with them, the frown on their face making it obvious. "I go to clubs, feed on the emotions in the crowd, or find a lover who’s up for a night of pleasure."

Logan's brow furrowed, caught off guard by the ease with which they said it. He wasn’t a prude, not by a long shot, but the detachment in their voice was something else. It sparked his curiosity.

"What do you mean? You can feed on… sex?" His voice was rough, but the question hung between them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied their reaction.

A sad smile tugged at their lips. "Yeah, I can. I only did it once… and someone died." They hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I make them feel good instead. I feed on their emotions, not their life force. I'm a giver, only."

Logan blinked as the realization hit him. "So if you have sex with someone, they die?" The weight of it settled in his mind. "So that means… you haven’t… since?"

E shrugged, their expression resigned. "I haven’t had sex in the way you conceive it in roughly… 250 years, give or take… maybe it’s 260. Time gets blurry after a while."

"Wow…" was all Logan could manage, his mind reeling from the thought. A pretty thing like them, not having been with anyone in… centuries? His thoughts drifted, imagining it, and he felt his face warm slightly before he caught himself. But before he could hide it, E chuckled.

"I can sense you’re thinking about me again," they warned, a hint of humor glinting in their eyes despite the sadness. "Did I get too much into your head?"

Logan grunted, but a smirk tugged at his lips. "You wish." Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something here, something raw and uncharted. An opportunity that could satisfy the primal part of him always searching for more—a connection that might, even for a moment, quiet his restless spirit.

“How do you keep the hunger in control around the kids here?” His voice softened as he spoke, more carefully this time, a rare edge of concern threading through his words.

A long, strained silence filled the space between them. E’s expression darkened, the raw vulnerability that slipped through making Logan’s chest tighten. Their shoulders slumped, and for a moment, they looked impossibly small, their strength faltering under the weight of their admission. “I don’t.” The words were soft, but the heaviness in them rang louder than any shout. “I haven’t properly fed since I got here… which is also why… I had that meltdown.” E’s gaze faltered, a rare crack in their usually unshakable facade. "I don’t want to hurt them, Logan. They're just kids. Too innocent. I… I don’t want to corrupt them with this."

Logan’s throat tightened as he processed the weight of their words. Their restraint was admirable, but the flicker of concern in his chest grew into something heavier, a gnawing worry that lodged deep. What if he hadn’t been there to help? Who would they have turned to? The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“Maybe…” He hesitated, unsure whether his next words would cross a line. But they were already on the tip of his tongue, and his protective instincts pushed him to speak. “Maybe we could work out an agreement.”

E looked at him, brow furrowing in confusion, the weight of his offer hanging in the air. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, his voice low but deliberate, eyes never leaving theirs. “Well, if I’m a walking buffet, might as well grab a bite now and then, right?” He tried to keep his tone gruff, but the underlying implication was clear—he wasn’t just talking about feeding.

They stared at him, disbelief written all over their face. Logan added quickly, “To keep the kids safe, you know…” His voice dropped, edged with something deeper—a personal stake he couldn’t quite define.

E’s chuckle filled the room again, their eyes gleaming with amusement. “Convenient,” they said, seeing through his cover but not arguing. If Logan was offering, who were they to say no?

“I mean,” he carried on, voice low and rough, as he tried to push past the weight of their amusement. “No strings attached, you know? Just a quick fix once in a while. Maybe you could try bein’ a little selfish. Not just givin’, but takin’ too, to blow off some steam.” He leaned in a little closer, his words edging toward a challenge, a hint of something dangerous in the way he spoke.

A slow, teasing smirk spread across E’s lips, their eyes gleaming with something dark and playful and Logan couldn’t help but remember how he first thought they would be trouble. And, oh boy, had he been right. It was written all over their face again, but hell, maybe that’s what made life worth livin’. Though, instead of jumping into his offer, E shrugged, playing it cool. “Yeah, sure,” they said nonchalantly, “if you’re up for it… And if you think you can handle my games." Their eyes glinted with amusement, but they left the offer hang in the air for a few heartbeats. "Maybe we can work something out.” There was another pause. “Just to keep the kids safe.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rough but laced with genuine amusement. “Of course. Just to keep the kids safe.” Though, the words were more loaded than either of them were willing to admit.

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding flickering between them before silence settled, thick and charged. Then, E stood, a shift in their demeanor as they moved with purpose. “So, if we’re going to do this, might as well make it good for the both of us, right? What do you like most?” They flashed a playful smile. “Guy? Girl?”

As they spoke, their form shimmered, shifting into a strikingly handsome man. Logan’s brow lifted, eyes narrowing as he assessed the change with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The ease with which they wore this unfamiliar face made him feel both intrigued and guarded, muscles unconsciously tensing in response. Before he could fully process the thought, E shifted back into their original form, and he felt his heartbeat slow to its usual rhythm.

“Want me to look like someone you know?” they teased, voice laced with something darker, a playful glint sharp in their eyes. Logan’s gut clenched as E’s features rippled, reshaping into Ororo’s elegant visage. The sight tugged at a memory of storms and shared battles, sparking a flicker of warmth that was swiftly overtaken by wariness. Then Scott’s face emerged, stern and self-assured, making Logan’s teeth clench involuntarily—old rivalries resurfacing for a brief, silent heartbeat. But it was the final shift that gutted him: Jean. The phantom ache hit him hard, a rush of regret and want tangled in an old wound he thought long scarred over. He forced himself to stay stoic, the turmoil in his chest hidden beneath a practiced frown. E’s eyes glimmered with mischief as they returned to their usual form, gaze locking with his in an unspoken challenge.

But they weren’t done.

“What about plain old me?" The question carried a whisper of vulnerability, softening the edges of their usual bravado. Before Logan could catch his breath, they morphed again, this time into something unexpected: tanned skin glowing warmly, innocent blue eyes staring back at him, long, wavy brown hair that spilled down to their knees. The transformation stunned him, a contrast so striking it made the breath catch in his throat. The unfamiliar curve of their smile, the way their presence seemed more tender yet powerful—it tugged at something primal, something he hadn’t expected.

Logan’s gaze lingered, caught off guard as curiosity tangled with an unexpected coil of desire. He felt his senses sharpen, instinct flaring as the tension between caution and temptation thrummed just beneath his skin, daring him to stay composed, even as the line between control and surrender blurred at the edges.

Hell, they knew exactly what they were doin'.

He let out a low breath, eyes steady on them. "Take the one you like most," he said finally, his voice thick with the weight of it all. "I’m good with whatever. Might as well be comfortable, you know." There was a small pause before a few more words slipped out. "But I gotta admit…" He smirked, unable to hold back. "Leaves some interestin' ideas."

There was a spark of amusement in his eyes now, the prospect of what could come. So many versions of them, so many ways this could go.

Logan kept his cool on the outside, but his thoughts were racing. He wasn’t exactly shy about what he liked, and the way E changed forms so effortlessly was unlike anything he'd seen. The possibilities? Endless. And for a guy who'd lived as long as he had, it took something special to surprise him.

But as much as his mind wandered over the many options in front of him, there was still that feeling — something deeper than just lust. Maybe it was the way E seemed so guarded under the teasing and power. The way they tried to make everything sound casual, even though Logan could see the weight of their long, lonely existence hanging on their shoulders. It made him pause.

He leaned back again, his hands on the mattress behind him, taking in their latest form — tanned skin, long brown hair, blue eyes. It was tempting to let them become someone else, someone new every time. But then, something clicked. “You don’t have to change for me, you know,” he said, voice a little softer, but still with that signature gruffness. “I kinda like you the way you are.”

The smirk on E’s face flickered, like they weren’t expecting that. It wasn’t just the words — it was the way he said it. Like he actually meant it. They stood there for a second longer, holding his gaze, before they shifted back into the form they always wore until now. Still powerful, still beautiful, but now with a hint of vulnerability they didn’t usually show.

Logan’s lips twitched, just a hint of a smile. “Besides,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “I’m not exactly picky. Just as long as you can handle me.”

E chuckled, walking closer. “I think I can manage,” they said, though there was a glimmer of something else in their eyes now. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was relief. Whatever it was, Logan wasn’t sure yet. But he’d figure it out eventually. After all, it wasn't just about keeping the kids safe anymore. There was something more brewing here, and Logan could feel it.

But for now, he played along, letting the tension between them hang in the air. He knew this settlement was going to get messy, but hey, hadn’t that been always the case for him? At least this time, he’ll get some fun out of it.

Logan smirked, still taking in everything E had just shown him. He’d seen a lot in his time, but nothing like this. It was a display of pure power, confidence, and—hell, he couldn’t deny it—beauty. His curiosity got the better of him as he spoke, voice low. "What’s your real form, anyway?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. "And… is E even your real name?"

E smirked, clearly enjoying the effect they were having on him. Slowly, they shifted back into the form of the young woman with the long, wavy brown hair that cascaded down to nearly touch their knees, tanned skin glowing faintly in the dim light. Their piercing blue eyes locked with his, intense and unyielding. The two horns above their hairline, now fully extended, had the sheen of polished obsidian, gradually darkening to a deep red at the tips, adding an almost regal fierceness to their look. Their thin tail moved with a life of its own, curling toward his cheek as it had earlier, the only constant in their shifting forms.

A pair of feathered wings unfurled from their back, the inky black plumage fading to a crimson red at the edges, casting subtle shadows across the room. It was an image of raw power and allure, both ominous and breathtaking in equal measure. But what really got him was the way their hips swayed as they moved closer, drawing his attention like gravity itself.

"This is my real form," they said, their voice soft but laced with power. "Once, I was Amrit, Amrit Kaur Singh. But that was centuries ago. When they revealed themselves…” Their wings twitched at their back, a subtle shift betraying old memories. “I became Ezekiel. Ezekiel Nepharael.” E let the name float in the air between them for a couple of heartbeats. “I sometimes go by Eki or Zeek, depending on whether I’m feeling more… feminine or masculine. But for most people, I’m just E."

Logan felt like his mouth had gone dry, his eyes glued to them as the energy in the room practically buzzed around them. The wings, the tail, the horns—it was like nothing he’d ever seen, but damn if it wasn’t mesmerizing. His throat felt tight as he tried to form words.

"You like what you see, pretty boy?" E teased, their smirk widening as they stepped closer once again, a playful gleam in their eye. It wasn’t even a question, more like a statement of an universal fact. They could feel his reaction, sense the heat of his desire.

Logan, despite himself, nodded, a muscle in his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep composed. "Yeah…" he managed, the word caught somewhere between disbelief and desire, his voice rough and breathless under the weight of it all.

E’s smile softened, though, almost tender, like they were savoring every drop of the power they felt from him. It wasn’t just lust—they could feel the admiration, the curiosity. They took a slow breath, as if inhaling his energy, their smile growing even more gentle before they pulled back, releasing the hold they had on him.

Logan blinked, shaking his head as if snapping out of a spell. “I mean…” he cleared his throat, regaining a bit of his composure. “Yeah, that’s… that’s okay, I guess.” A smug smile curled on his lips.

E chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement. They shifted back to their favorite form, casually sitting on the bed, still exuding the same undeniable confidence as if they were wearing something far more formal than their simple sportswear. "So," they said with a playful smile, "how do you propose we handle this agreement, Mr. Howlett?"

Logan cleared his throat again, his gaze meeting theirs with an edge of concern. "I’m not gonna sell my soul to the devil, right?" he asked, half-joking, but there was a quiet unease gnawing at him, like something deep inside was warning him.

E chuckled again, shaking their head. "No, don’t worry. I’m only in the business of pleasure, not deals. And I’m a giver, remember?"

"Right," Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the details. "Well… whenever you’re feeling… peckish, just knock on my door. I’ll do the same. If one of us doesn’t feel like it, then nothing happens. No strings. I don’t owe you anything, you don’t owe me anything."

E nodded, clearly pleased with the terms. "Fair enough," they said, but their smile turned sly again as they leaned forward, adding, "Anything you’d rather avoid? Things you don’t like doing?"

Logan's mind flashed to the moment they'd almost shared a kiss under the stars a couple of nights ago. He felt a shudder at the memory of the pull he'd felt, like he was going to be drained dry. "No kissing," he said firmly. "Also… maybe we should keep this between us. No one can know. And… well, if something makes either of us uncomfortable, we stop. No explanations.” He paused, briefly considering, but nothing else seemed necessary. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s all I ask."

E’s smile softened, genuine this time. They nodded. "Agreed. I’ll have the paperwork for you tomorrow." Their eyes sparkled with amusement, and despite himself, Logan chuckled.

"What?" E asked, amused. "I’m still a lawyer, pretty boy," they teased.

This time, the nickname sent a new warmth through Logan’s chest, one he wasn’t quite prepared for. Clearing his throat again, he stood up. "Well, if you don’t need me tonight, I’ll see you around, counselor."

E smirked, watching him intently, their eyes sweeping over his broad shoulders and the way he moved. "Of course you will," they purred, their voice low and full of promise.

He was halfway to the door when they called out. "Logan?" They waited until he turned to look back at them, their eyes softer now. "Thanks again. And… goodnight."

He gave them a small nod, his voice low as he responded, "You too." Without another word, he left the room, the weight of their offer—and whatever this was between them—still lingering heavy in his mind.

To be continued…

Notes: Curious about what does E looks like? Check out their moodboard. If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

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