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arvandus · 3 years

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The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?��

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

#aizawa shouta #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x you #shouta x reader #Shouta x you #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa smut #bnharem collab #Jazz Aizawa #Jazz AU #Music AU #BNHA music AU

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sorryjustafangirl · 3 years

Text

what home is

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

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

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

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

“It’s Tim, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's 18 :)

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

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

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

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

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

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

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hockey tends to do that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you send those pictures you took today?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the numbers…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Mom, deal."

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

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

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

"You don't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Neither is french fries,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

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

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What what means?”

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

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

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

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

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

***

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

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Figured what out?”

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re okay, right?”

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

***

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

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

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

“Can you get to the point please?”

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

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

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

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

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

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

“I let people in--”

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

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

“How do I do that?”

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

Be honest with him

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

And that was scary.

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

So when are you getting in?

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

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

we’re friends?

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

good to know thanks :)

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

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

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

“Dani...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

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

“Y/n,”

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

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

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

“You’ll talk to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I don’t speak German…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next step was to really open up.

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If.

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

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

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

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

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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jayeray-twst · 3 years

Text

How He Shows You Affection: Jade Leech

Warnings: None all fluff!

He Gifts You Things

The feel of a hand on your shoulder nearly made you jump out of your skin. You’d been so focused on what you were doing that you hadn’t even registered the arrival of a new person in your proximity. However the sound of a familiar chuckle instantly made you relax.

You leaned back against the person who was standing behind you, pressing your back to their front and tilting your head up so you could peer up at him. Jade had an amused half-smile curling his lips as he looked down at you.

“How was your trip?” you asked smiling brightly at him, your own hand coming to rest overtop his on your shoulder, tangling your fingers together, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Jade had taken another hike up into the mountains searching for mushrooms, claiming there was a certain kind that it was perfect weather to harvest them. You’d taken his word for it, as you couldn’t hope to know nearly as much about the fungi as Jade did. You just wished you could’ve gone with him. Unfortunately, you’d had too much work to do, so had dutifully stayed home.

“It was quite a fruitful day,” Jade told you, evidently really pleased, one of his rare full smiles lighting his face and the odd clicking trill to the end of his sentence enough to let you know how utterly delighted he was. It was a bit of a strange sound, something beyond the ability of human vocal cords, but one you’d come to quite enjoy hearing from your eel mer boyfriend. He only made it when he was beyond thrilled, and it was one of the few true insights into his feelings that your enigmatic boyfriend tended to keep tightly under wraps.

“Oh? Anything interesting?” you asked. Mushrooms generally weren’t what most would consider a fascinating conversation topic, but Jade always had interesting things to say about them. Plus you liked hearing your boyfriend ramble, and mushrooms were one of the few things he would do it for.

“Indeed,” he agreed, producing his other hand from where he’d been keeping it behind his back and presenting you with a flower. It was utterly beautiful and in your favorite color, stunning and perfect you’d never seen anything quite like it.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him a little awed at the pretty thing.

“It reminded me of you,” Jade informed you, gentle hands reaching out to tuck it behind your ear.

It was almost ridiculous how smoothly he could say lines like that, ones that would’ve made anyone else sound cheesy, but from him sounded utterly suave. It made your heart flutter in your chest every single time.

However you did have one small concern, your hand lingering close to the flower by your ear as you carefully asked, “It’s not poisonous is it?”

“Only if you ingest it,” he told you with a casual smile that was all teeth and amusement, eyes shining in delight. It really shouldn’t have surprised you given his fascination with mushrooms but Jade had a bit of a fascination with poisonous things.

“Really to think I would gift you something dangerous,” Jade scolded lightly, and you almost would’ve felt bad, except you remembered the whole debacle with the ghost bride quite clearly. On top of that there had been a few things at the beginning of your relationship that you’d learned a little too late were perfectly safe for merfolk but not so much for humans. It had been an honest mistake, and Jade had clearly felt bad afterwards, but it had been a little traumatizing.

“I would never deliberately gift you something dangerous,” Jade corrected, clearly reading your mind, and while Jade wasn’t one to pout, leaving such antics up to his twin, the slight downturn of his lips let you know he wasn’t entirely happy either.

“I know,” you assured him, gently squeezing the fingers that were still interlaced with yours, “And it is sweet of you to bring me gifts. I do appreciate each and every one of them, even the dangerous ones.”

It was all true, Jade was very careful to put a lot of thought into the things he gave you, even the little things. It was part of mer courtship customs apparently, and one he quite enjoyed and so did you if you were being honest. His little gifts never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

Jade chuckled, clearly appeased by this, gently tracing his fingers over your cheek before giving you a quick kiss goodbye and wandering off to sort through the bounty of mushrooms he’d brought back. You watched him go with a fond smile on your face, quietly thinking of your own gift ideas. After all, if you were dating a mer, you might as well embrace their courtship traditions. You just hoped your own gifts could make him feel just as treasured as he did for you.

He Does Little Things to Make Your Life Easier

One of the things you’d noticed about Jade Leech early on that differentiated him from his twin brother, was that he was incredibly attentive to detail. He was always watching, taking everything in, and he remembered almost everything. It was both impressive and alarming considering his penchant for blackmail.

As his significant other there was no one he observed more closely than you. It was one of the reasons the two of you had started dating in the first place, because Jade considered you one of the most interesting creatures he’d ever stumbled upon on land or sea.

All that close observation meant Jade almost always knew what you needed, sometimes even before you did. If you ate the last of your favorite snack, it would mysteriously be restocked. If you were feeling down your favorite comfort items and Jade himself would appear to help cheer you up. If something broke, or was on the verge of breaking Jade would buy a replacement or find a way to fix it.

It was all incredibly flattering, and made you feel seen in a way you never had with anyone else. Jade knew you better than you knew yourself at times, and it was both a little alarming and incredibly reassuring. Alarming because allowing anyone as close as he was to you and having them capable of predicting your actions to the degree he could was startling on a good day, but also reassuring because you knew Jade could see all of you, both the bad and the good and he wanted you anyway.

It might’ve made the relationship feel unequal at times, especially at first, but as your determination to know him the way he knew you grew, so did Jade’s willingness to let you in. These days you knew a lot of his little tells, the way he made small pleased clicking chirping sounds low in his throat when he was happy, the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he was smiling his genuine smile rather than the bland customer service smile, and the way his lips turned down at the corners when he was truly upset with something. You knew it all and took pride in the hard-won knowledge.

Still despite everything Jade still knew you better, as proved by the warm drink resting near your hand when you glanced up from the book you were reading, while waiting for him to finish his shift at Mostro Lounge. Gently touching the mug, you found it was the perfect temperature to be consumed, and there was also a little snack along with it.

Right on time your stomach grumbled, letting you know you were in fact, rather hungry. Amused as ever at your boyfriend’s ability to predict things you cradled the mug in your hands, enjoying the warmth of it in the coolness of the lounge, your eyes darting around the crowded room until they locked on your boyfriend at the bar.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he glanced up from what he was doing and met your gaze. You smiled at him, feeling warm and happy as you saluted him with your drink, mouthing your thanks at him and blowing him a kiss. You couldn’t actually hear his amused chuckle from where you were across the room, but you saw the genuine amusement in his eyes as he dipped his head in acknowledgment of your thanks before turning back to what he was doing.

With a content sigh you dug into the treat he’d brought for you, sipping your drink, and reflecting that you really were lucky. Not many got a boyfriend quite as attentive as Jade Leech, who saw to all your needs without question and without being asked. Despite what others might say about his cold and ruthless attitude to you he’d always been sweet in his own understated way. It was a privilege you vowed never to take for granted as you smiled to yourself feeling thoroughly adored.

He Makes Time for You

It had been a long, hard day, and if you were perfectly honest with yourself, all you really wanted at this point was to curl up with boyfriend and be cuddled to help shake the stress of the day away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be an option, not until late as Jade had a shift at Mostro lounge and wouldn’t be back until late.

Normally, you didn’t bother your boyfriend at work, but you desperately wanted to see him, and didn’t think he’d mind too much if you surprised him there, especially since you didn’t actually want to cook yourself dinner. Settled on your course of action, and feeling a bit optimistic that you might even get to steal him away for a little bit during his break you headed for the lounge.

It was relatively busy, the same as it always was with several waiters running back and forth fetching things from the kitchens for the students. Tonight Jade wasn’t actually one of them, instead he was stationed behind the bar, which made things easier for you, especially since there was a seat free. You didn’t worry too much about distracting him, Jade was a consummate professional after all, and meticulous in all things including the work he took quite a deal of pride in.

Sliding into the seat you smiled when your boyfriend spotted you and quickly made his way over, glad to see him, even if you were separated by the bar and unable to latch on to him like a limpet and not let go the way you wanted to.

“Hey you,” you greeted affectionately.

“Hello, fawn,” Jade answered lightly, his mismatched eyes scanning you carefully, taking you in. You hoped he couldn’t see how utterly done in you were, tucking back your exhaustion as far behind your emotional walls as you could manage and smiling at the nickname which never failed to life your spirits.

It hadn’t surprised you that Jade had decided to nickname you after a type of mushroom, you were just glad he only used the cute names, instead of something terrible like toadstool. Sometimes it honestly surprised you that he hadn’t given his sense of humor. You were just glad you’d managed to find out what amanita was ahead of time and put your foot down on it, as you had no desire to be named after a fly killing mushroom.

“What brings you to the lounge?” he asked, pulling you from your thoughts about mushrooms, his hands already going through the familiar motions of making your favorite drink.

“I didn’t want to cook and decided I’d kill two birds with one stone and come to the lounge and see you,” you answered, giving him a mostly honest answer.

“I’m always glad to see you,” he told you, passing your drink, “Excuse me for a second though sweet fawn, I have something to do and then I’ll be right back.”

“Of course,” you assured him, confident that you managed to keep your irrational disappointment locked behind your cheerful façade.

You idly sipped your drink as you waited for Jade to return, quietly watching the people moving around the lounge. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to reappear, though you were surprised when he did it on your side of the bar.

“Are you on break?” you asked, delighted at the prospect, practically beaming up at him, “Want to get something to eat with me?”

“I would love to get something to eat with you,” he assured you, cupping your cheek affectionately, the tender gesture taking you by surprise, though you couldn’t help but melt into it, so much so you nearly missed his next words, “But unless you’re very hungry it will have to wait until we get home.”

“Huh?” you asked, completely inarticulate in your bewilderment.

“You heard me,” Jade scolded lightly, “Let’s get home, precious little fawn.”

“But you’re working,” you sputtered in protest, “Your shift doesn’t end until eleven you said!”

“Ah but I decided to take the rest of the night off,” he informed you casually, “As if I could do anything else when my fawn needs me.”

“Jade, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him firmly, guilt broiling in your stomach, “You can finish out your shift, it’s not a problem!”

The knowing look he gave you, made you want to backtrack, but instead you held firm. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him, you loved him far too much for that.

“You’re never a problem,” he informed you his tone quiet but sincere, “let’s get you home.”

You were seriously contemplating refusing him, but the option was swiftly taken away as you found yourself lifted off your feet and swung up into a princess carry, making you yelp in surprise and indignation.

“Ooh someone’s in trouble!” a familiar sing-song voice called out from behind the bar, and you leveled a look at Floyd who was apparently taking his brother’s place for the rest of the night. You made a slightly rude gesture in Floyd’s direction, but the eel only laughed, completely unbothered by it as Jade began to carry you from the lounge your boyfriend also chuckling in amusement.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you tried, one last time, wriggling slightly in his hold trying to get him to set you down, “I’m really okay Jade, you don’t have to take time off for me.”

Jade paused in his steps, and for a second you thought you might’ve gotten through to him, only to have him tell you, “You’re worth all my time, sweet fawn, and I will always make more of it for you when you have need of me, even when you don’t want to admit it.”

The sincere, surprisingly gentle words took all the wind out of your sails, as you peered up into his eyes, his face solemn without any trace of his usual teasing. You slumped in his hold and stopped fighting, which he correctly interpreted as compliance and started walking again.

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest, breathing him in the way you’d been dying to from the minute you’d finished your day. Jade let out a soft chuckle of amusement and simply adjusted his grip so you were more comfortable, making you sigh in contentment.

“Hey, Jade?” you asked quietly against his neck, earning a hum of acknowledgment that let you know he was listening, “I love you.”

The words always seemed to take your boyfriend off guard, and this time was no exception. Still to his credit his steps only faltered for a second before he admitted, “I love you too, precious silly fawn.”

You sighed in contentment at the words, letting him carry you off back home, feeling utterly content and truly lucky to have a boyfriend like Jade Leech.

Like this or my writing in general? Feel free to drop by my ask box to make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first! I also take commissions on Ko-Fi!

#jade leech #octavinelle #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #twst jade #twisted wonderland jade #JayeRayTW #JayeRayWrites #twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech fluff #octavinelle fluff #jade leech x you

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xcertaindarkthingsx · 3 years

Text

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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luminnara · 3 years

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Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires | Lost Boys x OC CH 1

Summary: Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who's never stuck in one place for very long...until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she's there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk's nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie

Also posted on AO3

My requests are open!

Chapter one | Chapter two

Warnings: Blood, gore, smut, all that good stuff

Vera had been to a lot of cities, some of them twice, some of them three times, some even more, but none of them were quite as unique as Santa Carla. The boardwalk was crawling with lost souls, kids with nowhere else to go, and she was one of them; no family to call her own, no real friends, barely any possessions…Vera was a wanderer, a lone soul, a lost girl. She drifted from town to town, hanging around for a day or two if nothing interesting happened before moving on...and honestly, nothing very interesting ever happened.

Sometimes she took the bus, if she had the money from odd jobs or pick pocketing her meals, but for the most part, she was left to her own devices. She traveled on foot when she had to, avoiding major highways unless she was feeling up to a fight. During the day, she took refuge under bridges if she was broke, or motel rooms if she had a little cash. If she felt particularly frisky, sometimes she even managed to seduce locals into helping out, but for the most part, she only had herself as company, traveling by night for no reason other than an insatiable wanderlust and nobody else to spend her time with.

Nothing had ever held her in one place. She had started traveling a long time ago, when she realized she had no reason to stay in her hometown. Plus...people started to grow a little bit suspicious when they noticed too many bodies cropping up. The world was changing, and for someone like her, it was best to stay on the move.

After that, it became a habit, and she got used to wandering and never having a place to call home. Did it ever bother her? Sometimes, when she was resting, it did. She could stop and look at the stars, with some kind of foreign aching in her chest, but it was rare that she thought about it. It had started up years ago, and she had forced herself to get used to it. She had never found any cure, and while she lingered around the east coast, it had finally dulled to a strange, quiet pain. A constant throb in her chest, next to her heart, some kind of strange tightness that she was happy to forget whenever she could. It was becoming more frequent, though, as she neared California, and she chalked it up to the fact that she had been alone and hungry for far too long.

She would have to do something about that soon. She hated feeling hungry.

Vera hopped off the bus when it stopped in Santa Carla, a coastal town that boasted a crowded boardwalk and just the kind of nightlife she needed. From the road, she could see the bright lights of a Ferris wheel and even a roller coaster, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had always liked fairs and carnivals. They were fun and exciting, and good places to pickpocket. Plus, the chaos made it easier for her to go unnoticed.

At the bus stop, she was greeted with boards and telephone poles covered in missing persons ads, and it was an oddly comforting sight. She would fit right in.

“Murder capital of the world, huh?” she said to herself, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She had seen the graffiti on the back of a big WELCOME TO SANTA CARLA sign on the way in, and the flyers only added to the town’s reputation.

Yeah, this place was worth checking out.

The pier was bright, neon signs and carnival rides lighting up the night. Kids and adults alike were enjoying their summer, stuffing themselves with treats or screaming their way around the roller coaster. It all looked fun, she had to admit, and maybe once she had a chance to grab some cash she could hang around and enjoy herself. She could use a break from running constantly, and she was finding that the boardwalk was already making her happy.

As she walked through the crowds, Vera spotted every kind of person, from middle aged parents toting along a family of four to dirty vagrant children to punks to a couple of weird kids lurking around the comic book store. There were pizza places, cotton candy carts, all sorts of dine in restaurants and bars...Santa Carla seemed like it had everything, but mostly, it was a good place for someone like her to spend some time.

She sat herself down on a railing, trying to ignore the hunger pains she was feeling as she people watched. Beyond the homeless kids and the weirdos, the boardwalk was full of partygoers, and it looked like summer vacation was in full swing. There were a million smells in the air—cigarettes, weed, funnel cakes—but none of them really caught her attention. She let out a sigh, leaning her chin on her hand. She hated being indecisive about dinner.

“Ugh, Surf Nazis,” a woman whispered to her friend as they ran by.

“Gross,” the other wrinkled her nose.

Vera looked past them to the men that were shouting about their asses as they left and she snorted.

“What’s wrong, girls?” One of them yelled.

“Come back, we’ll show you a good time!” Another cackled, tossing an empty beer can over his shoulder.

Vera rolled her eyes. Disgusting, pathetic creatures, all standing around a trash can as they smoked. They smelled awful, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose, and it wasn’t just from their smoke. They were nasty, leering at girls and laughing loudly with each other when the women they were bothering scampered away.

Well, they weren’t her first choice, but at least she had found a meal.

She hopped off the fence and sauntered in their direction for a moment before turning, giving them just enough time to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them perk up, and before long, all four of them were following her through the crowd, shouting profanities as she made her way down to the pier.

“Hey baby, where you goin’?” one yelled, jogging to keep up with her pace.

Vera looked over her shoulder. “Down under the boardwalk...unless you’re chicken.”

She heard a chorus of hoots and whistles and grinned to herself. Men were so easy.

“I call first dibs!”

“I wanna piece of that ass!” Another yelled.

They always did. Vera was a short girl, only around five feet tall, and stocky. She carried her weight in her legs, giving her thick thighs and a round butt that could never quite stay covered by the denim shorts she loved to wear so much.

Boys liked the way she looked. They liked how she seemed so easy to grab, so soft, so touchable. As the Surf Nazis followed her down the rickety stairs to a secluded spot under the boardwalk, their hands were already moving, unbuttoning pants and reaching for Vera as if they were entitled to her. She smiled sweetly as she backed into the shadows, cooing for them to follow, grinning sickly when they obeyed. They always did, like lambs to the slaughter, never clever enough to recognize her predatory gaze and dangerous movements until it was too late.

Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could catch a glimpse of her bra or panties before it was over, but tonight, Vera had little patience for the dirty fingers that tried to pull her shirt off and her shorts down. Their faces leered down at her, even in the darkness, grunting as they palmed themselves through their pants.

She gave them a second to enjoy it before her lips twisted into a sick grin and she reached for them, nails like claws and teeth like fangs. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of their screams, but the waves crashing against the sand drowned the grisly noises out. As she tore into them, she laughed, loving the way they were so terrified now that they had completely lost any sense of power over her.

Boys always liked the way she looked, until she was covered in their friends’ blood.

-o-

David was having a boring night.

His boys were under control for the time being, lounging on their bikes next to him. Paul and Marko were laughing loudly, occasionally punching each other just for the hell of it, and Laddie was reading a comic as he clung to Dwayne. Star had decided to stay home for the night, and nobody was complaining about that; at the thought of her, David growled to himself, grimacing at the reminder of the troublesome bitch. Max had wanted a daughter and a good mother for Laddie, and what had they ended up with? A mopey, whiny little cunt who refused to kill and feed like everyone else.

Feed...damn, he could go for a snack. He could practically taste blood in the air as he thought about grabbing a bite, fangs threatening to lengthen. He hadn’t even thought he was that hungry, but now that he was thinking about it, it was bugging him, and when David got the urge to feed, there were very few things that could stop him. The hunger would sometimes gnaw at him the way it did a newborn, and even Max was occasionally put off by it. It was something he expected from a younger vampire, like Marko, maybe, but David? His appetite could be insatiable, truly monstrous in a way that most others’ weren’t.

The boys picked up on his hunger and he heard a few growls of agreement before he nodded for Dwayne to take Laddie back to the cave. The kid was never allowed to go with them when they hunted, and Dwayne was capable enough to grab something for himself if he didn’t catch up with them. Ever since Laddie had gotten his pesky little hands on their bloody wine bottle, they had been stuck with him, and if Dwayne hadn’t turned out to be so good with the kid, David would’ve been irritated beyond belief.

It all worked out, though, and Laddie fit in well with the rest of the group. David just had to keep reminding himself to be patient.

“Anybody catch your eye?” Paul asked as his brother took off down the beach with their youngest member.

“Absolutely fucking no one.” David sneered.

The tall blonde straightened up to sniff the air. “Get a whiff of that, though…”

David paused, mimicking Paul. He was right. There was a metallic scent on the breeze, the sweet smell of fresh blood. It made him thirsty, and as he led Paul and Marko down the boardwalk, it only grew stronger.

“Shit,” Marko mumbled as they started down the stairs to the beach. Once they had broken free of the crowd, the scent had hit them like a train, and even David was having trouble controlling himself.

“Careful,” he warned, voice coming out with a ragged, heavy breath.

Murders happened in Santa Carla all the time, and not only because of the Lost Boys. It was a rough place, full of drugs and vagrants, and the violence only helped them blend in. Someone had probably gotten themselves in trouble under the boardwalk, and at this point David was just hoping that the killer was still around to sate his hunger. They never fed from corpses, so stumbling across them never yielded any good results unless they were in the mood to rip them apart for shits and giggles.

David was not in the mood.

He led Paul and Marko off the stairs and through the sand, hurrying now as the blood filled his senses. It was so fresh, and there was so much of it...this wasn’t normal, even for the murder capital of the world. What kind of sadistic human would cut someone up enough to spill so much blood? What the fuck was going on under his boardwalk? Sure, it was something he would do, but other than his boys, who could possibly be that brutal?

It was in the shadows of the pier that he finally got the answers to all of his questions.

Just like the blood had, her scent hit him like a freight train. He could tell Paul and Marko were just as confused by the way they stopped and hissed, fangs already out as they looked down at the bodies littering the sand. It was a gorey scene, throats and stomachs ripped open, Surf Nazis gutted with their pants down.

And in the middle of it all, she had the audacity to glance up at David, and then completely disregard him as she turned back to her final victim. She wasn’t worried in the slightest about the three males, and that pissed David off a little. When he would have snarled a warning at her insolence, he found himself distracted instead, head tilted and lips parted as he drank in her scent and checked her out.

She was wearing shorts that barely covered her bloody legs, ratty combat boots on her feet and an equally ratty denim vest over a ripped up black shirt. Her ebony hair was cut into some sort of shaggy mullet, falling around her shoulders. It was long and wavy and glossy, but tousled and messy, no doubt thanks to feeding.

He could only stare in shock at the black-haired girl that was feasting on a Surf Nazi. He couldn’t decide if he was angry at someone else hunting on his turf or happy to find a real female vampire, one that wasn’t stupid and whiny like Star, but the one thing he knew for sure as he took a step towards her was that he was just the tiniest bit turned on.

Paul and Marko could both smell the tiniest hint of their leader’s arousal, and it excited them. They weren’t used to supernatural girls, and the thought of getting a turn with her was enough to make the air heavy with the scent of lust as they followed David.

Paul let out a low whistle behind him. “Shit, first time I wouldn’t mind bein’ a Surfer. I’d take a little of that sugar right now, know what I’m sayin?”

The vampiress lifted her head from her victim and smiled, drunk on blood and high off the hunt. “I don’t usually share meals, but I’ll give you the rest of this one if it gives me a free pass back outta here.”

Paul tensed to take her up on the offer, but David stopped him. “Free pass?”

The girl sat back from the still-whimpering Surf Nazi, blood running down her chin. “Figure you wouldn’t want me in your territory. Sorry. Didn’t realize anybody else was here, else I’d have been moving on already.”

David smirked. “No need, sweetheart.”

She furrowed her brow.

“It’s feeding time, boys. Grab a snack.” David grinned, allowing Paul and Marko to surge forward and rip into the Surf Nazi. He watched with a twinge of annoyance as Paul turned from his meal and pressed his bloody lips to the girl’s, but that annoyance turned into surprise when she kissed back, albeit lazily.

She smiled as her lips moved against his, a hand moving to tangle in his wild hair. Fire tore through Paul and he growled, pushing her down until her back hit the sand and her chest touched his as her breaths turned into frenzied pants.

Hands ran down her sides, hard nails digging into her skin as Paul nipped at her lower lip. With a whine, she arched up against him, tugging at his hair until he snarled.

“Paul,” David growled a warning.

Paul sat back up with an irritated grumble, licking his lips before plunging his fangs into the Surf Nazi and leaving Vera alone.

David had to admit, he had never met a female vampire that wasn’t stuck in limbo like Star. They seemed rare, or at least they were around California, but Max had always told him that girls of their kind were a special breed. He was already feeling a tug toward her, some kind of something pulling at his chest whenever she moved, and before he knew what he was doing, he was crouching down to suck up the last few drops of blood while his boys turned their attention to the killer.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Marko asked, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Vera,” she answered with the sweetest voice either of them had ever heard, practically a purr.

Paul sighed, leaning in again. He was head over heels already. “What brings you here to our little corner of the world, Miss Vera?”

She blinked, and they were fucking mesmerized by those lashes and those hazel eyes. “Just passing through, boys. Don’t wanna step on any toes.”

Paul groaned. He wanted her to stay. She smelled amazing, and when she had returned the kiss he hadn’t even realized he was giving her, he felt jolts of electricity shoot through every part of his body.

He wanted more.

“Damn, babe, you’re breakin’ my heart,” he said, holding her face so that he could lick blood off her chin.

“No fair,” Marko nudged his brother. “I want a taste…”

David looked up from the drained corpse, listening as his boys slurred with love drunk voices. Max had warned him about females, about those with foreign sires. They could trap you in a web of lust, keep you dumb and happy there for as long as they wanted, rob you blind and kill your entire family...but somehow, he got the feeling that Vera wasn’t even trying to fuck with them. There was no misty, foggy sensation that would signify magic, no eye contact, no focus. As he rose to his feet, he realized he was walking towards her of his own accord, the only spell being that strange, unspoken one that kept pulling him to her.

He had an inkling of what it could be, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up.

“Got a place to stay, darling?” He asked as he shoved his boys out of the way and knelt before Vera.

She leaned toward him, a sweet smile on those bloody lips that told him she was confident enough in her ability to handle them all. She was calm, completely in control of herself, even when faced with three healthy male vampires. Her eyes were half-lidded, long lashes fluttering whenever she blinked.

When her tongue slipped out to lick blood off her lips, David’s eyes widened at the sight of something he had never seen before. It was split in two, each side moving of its own accord easily. Paul let out an eager noise, Marko shoving him with his shoulder to try to get a better look. Vera just laughed at their fascination, pulling her tongue back into her mouth and smiling.

David could feel her breath on his cheek as she took in his scent and he couldn’t help the shiver that went up his spine. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her better than Paul had, to fuck her and hear his name on her lips. He wanted to show her how strong he was, to impress her, to prove himself for some reason. He would kill a hundred surfers if he had to, if it would grant him her favor. He would sit out in the sun and burn himself if it meant he could be hers.

He had never felt this way about anyone, and it was pissing him off.

Vera laughed to herself. She could smell his desire, and she knew that it was because of her. Just like those Surf Nazis, these vampires wanted her, but at least she liked this little pack. What’s more, that aching in her chest had stopped when they showed up, and she had a feeling she knew why.

It was a little bit terrifying, though, and she wasn’t about to stop and think about it.

“What are you suggesting?” She asked, brushing her fingers along his cheek, a smear of blood following.

“Stay with us,” he breathed, blue eyes locked with hers.

“Darling, I don’t even know your name,” she quipped, never shifting her gaze.

“David,” he said with a slight growl as he felt himself getting lost in her eyes.

“David,” she repeated, voice soft and breathy. Her hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, nose twitching as he smelled the fresh blood in her wrist. It was sweet, sweeter than any blood he had ever encountered before, and all he wanted to do was sink his fangs into her flesh and get a taste.

Vera heard a sigh and finally took her eyes off David. The other two were watching, just off to the side, staring hungrily at their leader and the new girl.

“And what about you two?” She asked, hand sliding down to the side of David’s neck to keep him in check. She was confident enough in herself to handle him, but at the same time, he put her on edge. There was no way she was going to let her guard down around him yet.

That was the thing about female vampires, though; they had the uncanny ability to always put on a facade, and Vera was no exception. David made her nervous—they all did, honestly—but she wasn’t about to let them know that.

“Paul,” the tall blonde said quickly, rushing forward as if he would die without her touch. He pressed his nose against her throat, breathing her scent as if he was starving.

“Marko,” the smaller one followed, desperately reaching out to touch her hair.

“Paul,” she purred, earning a growl. “...Marko…”

Another growl.

They acted like they needed her, all three of them, but they were behaving themselves. She had no doubt that if she gave them the go ahead, she would be naked within seconds, but for the moment, they were listening to her. She had never experienced something like this before; usually, other vampires ignored her, or threatened her until she left their territory. These boys seemed to adore her, and she had to admit, she liked it.

“Paul, Marko,” David said roughly. “Clean up so we can go home.”

With a groan, the younger two did as they were told, dragging Surf Nazi corpses into the ocean before wiping their hands and faces clean.

“You’re their leader,” Vera said, more as an observation than anything else. “Are you their sire?”

David smirked as he helped her to her feet. “Depends on how you look at it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way to look at that, David.”

He melted when she said his name, leaning in to catch another whiff of her scent. It was sweet, like honey, sticky and sick, and all he wanted was to drown in it. “What have you done to me, Vera?”

She smiled and took his hand, raising it to lick blood off of his fingers. “Nothing on purpose, I promise.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind,” Paul suddenly grabbed her from behind, arms snaking around her waist as he buried his nose in her black hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a happy sigh. The feeling of her there in his arms, pressed up against him, was enough to make his fangs slide out again, and he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue up the side of her neck.

David snarled, snapping only inches from his brother’s face. “Behave.”

“You say as if you are,” Vera snorted, giving David a gentle push and easing her way out of Paul’s grip. “But you boys are all very sweet. I don’t mind the attention.”

“Oh, you have our attention, sweets,” Paul whistled as she turned and bent over to wash her face and hands at the water’s edge, giving them all a good view of her ass. A low rumble rose in David’s throat as he appreciated the sight, and Marko echoed it.

“So greedy,” Vera mocked as she straightened up again. “Are you this nice to every bloodsucker that hangs out on your boardwalk, or is it just me?”

“Just you, that’s for sure,” Marko said, almost cackling.

“The others aren’t so delicious,” Paul cooed with that signature laugh.

“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” Vera said, walking back to them. Now that her arms and legs were clean of blood, they could see that she was covered in tattoos, and David wondered if she had them as a human before she was turned, or if she had found some way to make the ink stay in her regenerative skin.

Paul gave her a cocky grin and David rolled his eyes. His brother was such a flirtatious bastard. He was a lady killer, literally, even more than David was, but Vera didn’t seem to mind his advances. She seemed comfortable with Paul, taking it all in stride.

It made David just the tiniest bit jealous.

“Come with us.” He said it more as an order than an offer, extending his hand out to her.

“Unless you got somewhere better to go,” Marko joked.

“And there ain’t nowhere better,” Paul snickered.

“There aren’t too many places to hide from the sun on a boardwalk,” Vera snorted. She was finally coming down from her high, the thrill of the hunt fading again and giving way to her less monstrous personality. “I was going to have to find a good spot anyways…”

Now that she wasn’t operating solely on instinct, she could take a moment and think about her situation. Three male vampires, none of whom had tried to kill her for stealing prey in their territory, seemed to be absolutely obsessed with everything about her and wanted her to go home with them. One had even kissed her and she had kissed him back, because it had felt so right. She allowed them to touch her, to taste her skin, to share her meal. They were stronger than her, and they outnumbered her, but she still felt like she was...in charge?

David, the definite leader of the little pack, was looking at her hopefully. His face was stony, but she could see excitement in his blue eyes, and when she smiled, there was a spark of something in those irises.

“Just don’t kill me in my sleep,” Vera joked as David took her hand and began leading her back up to the boardwalk.

“No promises,” Marko leered as they followed.

“You look good enough to eat, babe,” Paul growled playfully, lunging forward to cop a feel of her ass.

Vera only laughed, but David snarled dangerously at his brother, moving his arm to Vera’s shoulders and pulling her against his side.

“Relax, you big angry beast,” Vera said with a grin, raising her hand to his chin and giving a teasing scratch.

David huffed and Marko hooted with laughter. “Damn, she’s way more fun than you, David!”

“I dig this chick,” Paul snickered.

“You better share her,” Marko whined.

David smirked as they climbed the stairs back up to the boardwalk. Could he manage that? He only ever shared things with his brothers, but even then, he was terrible at it. Vera had some kind of magnetic pull on him, yeah, and his mouth watered at the thought of keeping her around, but Marko and Paul were both obviously into her...and she was into them.

She was into all of them.

He needed to talk to Max. He honestly hated having to ask his sire for help or advice, and he avoided it whenever he could. Max had never been very nurturing, despite wanting everyone to act like a big family. It worked out for the boys, sure, but Max was…not a great father. A patriarch, yes, always seated at the head of the metaphorical table, but he was cruel and cold towards David, and he had been from the very start. He thought they all needed a stern hand to keep them in check, and David didn’t like that.

Still, Max let them run free, and he knew more than David did about their own kind. He was helpful, sometimes, in his own way, and his son was going to have to defer to him. He had questions about Vera, about the pull he felt toward her, and Max was the only one with the answers.

As they returned to the boardwalk and joined the crowd of humans, Vera was pleased to see that the sea of people parted for the boys. They stepped aside, glancing with mixtures of emotions at the little pack. Girls looked dreamy, parents grabbed their children, Surf Nazis raised their lips in sneers. Was it because of their reputation, or did the humans somehow know that they should be afraid of the predators that stalked Santa Carla? She hoped it was both. She hoped that these boys were wild and rowdy enough to rule this boardwalk, and she hoped that they liked her enough to keep her around.

She glanced up at the sky, a few stars twinkling despite the light pollution from the city. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t itching to hop on a bus or hitch hike to the next town. For once in her life, Something was occupying her mind, and the wanderlust was giving way to another, completely foreign feeling. The ache in her chest was gone, but it was replaced by a strange, burning, almost longing that she had never felt before. It was almost similar to the emotions she experienced during bloodlust, but she was in control of herself. Her fangs weren’t poking through, her eyes weren’t shining...she was happy and her hunger was sated, so where was this coming from?

She was still avoiding the one train of thought that would bring her to the right conclusion. It was just too much to consider, especially with everything happening so quickly all of the sudden.

They came to a halt when they reached their bikes, Dwayne already back from dropping Laddie off. From the looks of it, he had grabbed a bite on the way, jeans stained with fresh blood that the humans would just assume was from a fight.

Vera stopped. There was another male here? She was finding it hard to believe that she had stumbled across a pack of four males without any females, but she couldn’t smell much in the way of estrogen on them. It was just odd; vampires didn’t usually live in bachelor groups like these, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely unheard of. It was just strange that they hadn’t found any girls they wanted to keep around for all eternity.

Most people got lonely eventually. Maybe these four were all actually lovers...but she hadn’t seen any marks that would mean they were claimed, and she hadn’t smelled or sensed anything that would lead her to believe that they were serious.

Odd.

The one leaning against the bike was tall, long dark hair falling around his shoulders and a curious, but serious, expression on his handsome face. She felt frozen under his gaze, uncharacteristically nervous, like a deer in the headlights. It was like he could see right through her, and she didn’t know if she liked that or not.

“Dwayne, this is Vera,” David said as he tugged her along. She found a way to make her legs work again and followed, letting a smile curl its way onto her lips when Dwayne bowed his head to her.

“And she’s tough,” Marko said, bouncing over to his bike.

“And she’s gorgeous,” Paul took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss as he passed her.

“I can see that,” Dwayne said, his voice deep and smooth, a seductive smile on his lips.

David narrowed his eyes, but tried to hide the movement with a smirk. “Keep an eye on her. I’m going to visit Max.”

“Oh, I’ll keep both eyes on her,” Paul winked as he beckoned for her to sit behind him on his motorcycle.

David rolled his eyes, desperately trying to not make a scene. “Control yourself. I’ll be back.”

He pressed a kiss to Vera’s head, inhaling deeply before leaving her side and stalking off down the boardwalk. He could already feel his sire tugging questioningly at his consciousness, curious as to why David was so eager to speak to him. His son had always been good at blocking him out, keeping his mind locked down unless he needed something or there was trouble that called for Max’s attention. The others were more open, but Max didn’t have as strong a link with them, and while David was supposed to be his prodigal son, he was so...secretive. Private. Closed off. For him to be willingly heading to the VideoMax store for anything other than annoying him or hitting on Maria out of boredom, something very important had to be going on, and Max was beyond itching to know what it could be.

“Who’s Max?” Vera asked, joining Paul to perch on the back of his bike.

“David’s sire,” Marko answered.

“A grouchy old bloodsucker,” Paul grinned.

“He runs the video store. He hates it when we crash.” Marko laughed.

“But...that cashier is pretty cute,” Paul said, thinking of Maria. “I’d love for a bite of—”

He was cut off by the breath leaving his body when Vera wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.

Marko hooted with laughter at his brother’s reaction and Dwayne let out a chuckle. Paul was absolutely speechless, and Vera wasn’t even making skin on skin contact with him.

Until she felt him tense, smirked against his back, and slid her hands under his mesh shirt.

If Paul could blush, he would have. He would have been a shade past tomato red. The feeling of her fingers running over his abs was all he could focus on for a moment, and all he wanted was to kiss her again, feel her again, maybe get a little tongue action...

“You’re supposed to behave yourself, Paul,” Marko taunted as he caught a whiff of the lust in the air and felt his brother’s excited thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul snarled. “I don’t need this shit from you.”

“I’m just repeating what David said,” Marko said defensively. “You’re the one who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little angel?” Paul shot back. “I’m the one with a goddess on his bike, might I remind you.”

Marko scoffed, lip raised in a nasty little snarl. “Not for long, Paul!”

Vera smiled as they bickered. Paul’s arousal hung in the air, but she didn’t mind; in fact, she liked it, and she hugged her arms around him tighter as he squabbled with Marko. She was eager to get back to wherever it was that they called home, and she was eager to sleep surrounded by them and feel truly safe for once. She was used to being alone, and she wasn’t scared of it, but she was always on edge, always ready to run or fight. It made her a light sleeper, and the concept of not having to worry was more tantalizing than any of these boys were on their own.

#goddamn shit sucking vampires #the lost boys #lost boys x reader #lost boys x oc #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys

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georgeharrisonsimp · 3 years

Text

anguish.

jimmy page x reader

don’t mind me posting my self-indulgent fics

i carefully glanced over at you.

you were sitting there, in a way that was so stunning.

it was just a basic lean back in your chair type thing, but the smile you had planted on your face was lovely.

i didn’t know why you were smiling.

i wish i knew.

it was peaceful.

although it was early in the morning, your face had a wonderful glow.

the golden features shone upon your dark hair.

it almost looked reflective.

it showed off your naturally pink-stained cheeks.

the old floral shirt you had on fit the whole setting.

if i could take a photograph, i would’ve.

and i know you wouldn’t mind either.

you were popular, you were used to it.

heck, you gave people photos of yourself.

you always signed the back of kt.

the classic jimmy page signature on the bottom of the polaroids you handed out.

even though it was just highschool, i knew you’d probably do this for a while.

you had a band.

it was doing pretty well from what i’d heard people say.

i was glad.

even though we rarely talked, i knew so much about you.

while you probably knew nothing about me.

you probably knew my name, but even that would be lucky.

all i could do was glance from afar, and wait.

but i don’t know how much longer i can wait.

you have girls lined up to be with you.

i’m probably still at the far back of that line.

and i’d probably stay there for much longer.

———————————————————————

all i could do was sit alone in the corridor.

some spring fling dance was coming around in an hour.

no one had asked me.

none of my friends were single so they had their dates.

i couldn’t third wheel anymore, that was too freshman.

so i just sat here on my doorstep.

it was gonna rain tonight.

my friend robert was gonna pick me up, leave and have fun with maureen, and i’d be left alone again.

i waited on my doorstep, dreading the hours ahead of me.

what was the point of going if i was just gonna mope around?

there was none, really, but robert wanted me to have fun.

robert’s car had pulled up.

i ran over and got in.

i was wearing some nicer flare pants i had and one of my friends floral blouses.

my parents couldn’t afford a dress, but i told them i was fine with just this.

i put on the best attitude i could’ve in rob’s car.

maureen and i had a nice chat with robert casually joining in sometimes.

eventually, we arrived at the venue.

i thanked robert once more, said bye to him and his partner, then off i went.

i strolled over to the snack bar and grabbed a soda from a bucket of ice.

i looked around, noticed familiar faces, but nothing too special.

it was crowded, that’s for sure

too many people, too much perfumes, it was just too much.

i decided to go outside.

it was nicer anyways.

you could still hear the beat of whatever song was playing.

i didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching me.

didn’t know how he thought i looked stunning in this blue moonlight glow.

i was glanced up when i heard your footsteps.

nice leather shoes with a heel. not surprising.

you had this interesting suit with astrology signs and dragons in some places.

suddenly, you sat down next to me.

“it’s nicer out here, isn’t it?” you asked, while your green eyes glanced at the stars.

“very.” i laughed slightly, glancing at the stars too.

“i must say, you’re choice of attire is much more fitting than most of the other girls in there.” you tilted your head to the gym, where everyone else is.

“you think so? i just...couldn’t get a dress on time. plus, it’s not prom or anything, it can’t hurt.”

you laughed.

a soft, gentle sound i didn’t think i’d hear for myself.

by the way it sounded, you didn’t mean any rude intention at all.

“at least someone agrees. spring dances or whatever aren’t too important at this point. don’t you think dresses are too outdone anyways?” you questioned me.

i nodded, “some are alright, i guess.”

you hummed in agreement.

yes, even though i did like you a lot, you were so easy to talk to. it was relaxing, something i didn’t think i’d acheive this night.

“i must say, you’re outfit is quite unique.” i told you, out of truthfulness.

“thank you... i got a mate that does this type of stuff. he knows about my liking for dragons.”

“right, you’re the one with that dragon telecaster, aren’t you?”

i knew the answer. didn’t hurt to ask again though.

“yep, that’s mine. designed it myself. pretty lil’ thing, isn’t it?”

i laughed at your wording, it was cute.

“you designed it? it really is stunning... i like it a lot.” i complemented you.

“thank you. so, you know about the band, i’m guessing?” you had asked.

“yeah, robert’s my friend. plus, i’ve seen you around school enough.” i laughed.

you laughed again too.

“never thought i’d get to talk to you, though.” i mentioned.

somehow, it didn’t feel awkward to tell you that. you didn’t feel judgemental.

“percy talks about you a lot, always tells me how we should talk. never really saw you around until he told me where he saw you run off to.”

“is that so?” i looked at you, giving you a questioning look.

you nodded, “yeah, i wanted to talk to you even before he mentioned you. we had classes together, you seemed interesting.”

this caused me to blush, “that’s funny. we both wanted to talk to each other, had classes each year, and are now just talking outside of school.”

“it is funny, i guess! to be fair, we aren’t outside of school though. if we leave, we can be.” you looked over at me again, as you indirectly asked me to leave with you.

“let’s leave then, shall we?” i said, to which you agreed.

we walked to your somewhat fancy car.

“wanna go to the diner?” you asked.

“please. that soda makes my throat dry.”

i stole so many glances at you, you did the same.

there was a tension in the air.

yet, this all felt so natural.

like we had known each other forever.

————————————————

we had more small talk over our late snack at the diner.

we drank our milkshakes, shared some fries, the left.

it was fairly late, we didn’t know what to do.

but god, the tension was still floating in the air.

“it’s late... do you wanna go home or..?” you asked, sweetly.

i didn’t want this to end. not yet, at least.

“my parents would probably get mad if i bardge into my house this late. so uh, i really don’t know.” i trailed off.

“i know we literally just started talking, but you can stay at my house tonight. there’s an extra room if you want it, or you could stay wherever.”

our eyes met, and i simply nodded.

then, off to your house we went.

it had started raining.

the moon was still blue.

it shone so beautifully against your skin.

just like the sun did.

you took my hand and helped me out of the car.

suddenly, despite the rain, you pulled me into a hug. we started to sway slowly.

“don’t you feel like we’ve known each other much longer than we have...” you said so quietly, i barely heard.

i nodded against your chest, “yes, it does.”

you hummed in acknowledgment.

“i know it’s raining, but we didn’t dance at the school, so do you want to now?” you asked, kinda shyly.

“let’s dance.” i laughed slowly.

suddenly, you entangled your hand with mine and out your other arm around my waist.

we really just glided back and forth from your driveway, but it was such a sweet moment.

your soft humming, the feeling of your hand, it was so peaceful.

you had eventually laid your head on my head at some point.

even though the rain was so heavy, it was as if it wasn’t there.

the moment we were in was so surreal.

as if it was telepathic, we looked up at each other.

your eyes widened, i felt mine do the same.

you gave me a soft smile, it was such a nice sight.

slowly, in the midst of pouring rain, we both leaned it.

we both knew that this was right.

our lips collided. they moved perfectly against each other.

a perfect fit.

your hands had gone to the sides of my face.

my arms moved around your neck.

a dull taste of our strawberry milkshakes were still there.

slowly, we pulled away.

we needed air.

i blushed a deep red. hopefully you wouldn’t be able to see.

you smiled again. bigger this time.

you intertwined your hand with mine and we finally entered your house.

it smelt like jack daniels, which wasn’t surprising. it also smelt like cinnamon.

quietly, we walked up your stairs.

you unlocked your door, and i must say, your room fitted you.

the guitars, the posters from gigs, the polaroids...they were all there.

you had some books on your desk and a bunch of picks sprawled out.

you squeezed my hand.

“do you want to stay here or...” you asked tiredly.

i nodded, as you patted the spot next to you.

i laid down, you took ahold of my hand again.

you runned your thumb over my knuckles, such a sweet but simple thing.

i loved all of it.

you took your jacket off.

once you did, you instantly grabbed my hand again.

it was really cute.

with your free hand, you laid it against my torso.

“is this alright?” you asked.

“couldn’t be better.” i smiled, you did the same.

shyly, you pecked my forehead.

“goodnight, y/n.”

“sweet dreams, jimmy...”

#jimmy page #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin #fluff #cute

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ladykatakuri · 3 years

Text

Escape from Senses

A Star Wars The Bad Batch One Shot for our dear Sargeant Hunter

Pairing: Hunter x F Reader

Word Count: 2017

Warnings: None it is a fluffy story for the man who needs a break sometimes.

Song Lyric based: John Denver - Annies Song ( a.k.a You fill up my senses )

Summary: “Listen, I told you I am not interested. Just let it go ok?” You sigh as you turn around to walk away and get some space between you and the obviously drunk clone. When he makes a grab for your arm, you stumble and bump into a man that stands out from the entire crowd.

Hunter never really liked to go to an establishment with many people around, especially not when there is alcohol in play. With his heightened senses, it meant that he would pretty much hear, feel, see and smell all, and with many people around that are drunk, let's just say that it made for a sensory overload most times. The sounds of people singing and talking and arguing over nothing and everything, the smell of stale alcohol and other scents fuming from the bodies around or the food that was left behind on and under tables, the people bumping into him, women touching him ( especially his hair ) it was all just too much. Now, just back from a mission, 79`s was not the place he longed for, but it was what his brothers needed the most. So, as a good brother and leader, he went to the bar with them to have some time off until the next mission.

He was not prepared for that night and all the nights after that.

You were invited by a friend to come and stay at 79`s for a couple of hours before her shift ended and the two of you could go for a nice night of holo, snacks and girltalk. With the craziness that has been going around lately, with the war effort and all, the two of you desperately needed some time together to just have a real girls night and so here you were, in a bar loaded with men in all stages of being drunk and women in pretty much the same situation. Most of the visitors were clones, soldiers of the republic who would be sent out into the frontlines and who would be most likely not to return again. It was only normal for them to party as if their lives depended on it and they surely did enjoy everything the night brought them.

From some of the men you met there and who befriended you, you understood that the veterans always called the new guys shineys. Their armor was still all clean and new and they would not be as battle hardened yet as the older generation of warriors. To you and most women in the bar it meant they would be the men that came on to you the hardest, more confident of their seductive skills. It also meant to you that when there were many of them around, you and your friend would be busy saying no most of the night. Despite the help from Rex, who noticed one particular shiney not giving up on having you as a companion for the night. you still were being bothered by the man after Rex had left with his brothers.

“Come on sweetheart. You know it would be a great night with me! I`ll love that sweet, soft body of yours all night long.” His drawling voice, almost singing the sentences, carries through to your friend currently pouring drinks behind the bar. She chuckles as she looks at you rolling your eyes at her.

“Listen, I told you I am not interested. Just let it go ok?” You sigh as you turn around to walk away and get some space between you and the obviously drunk clone. When he makes a grab for your arm, you stumble and bump into a man that stands out from the entire crowd.

You fill up my senses like a night in a forest,

Like the mountains in springtime,

Like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert,

“Sorry! I… I didn't mean to bump into you.” You look up and smile at the man currently gazing down at you. His deep brown hair held back by a red bandana falls on his shoulders, his brown eyes squinting and his hand on your arm holding you in place.

“No problem.” He smiles at you as he steadies you on your feet. “It happens.” When he looks around, you notice his stiff movement, almost as if he tries to seem casual while at the ready to run out of the place.

“Well, I`m still sorry. Hope I didn't hurt you.” With a wink to the man you are about to walk away when a hand lands on your shoulder and pulls you back.

“Come on sweetheart! Let's go to my place.” With a slur, the shiney from before takes hold of your shoulder and tries to pull you out of 79s with him, not noticing the soldier who curiously gazes at you and the shiney who does not seem to stand a chance at all.

You shrug his hand off of your shoulder and turn to face the young drunk. “I said no, can`t take a hint?” You smile at the long haired man once more and walk past him. “Some people should not drink and flirt at the same time,” you mutter.

When the shiney reaches out for you once more, the other puts a hand on his shoulder and pinches it. “Not a smart idea. Best leave the lady alone, she said no.” His friendly smile does not distract you from the warning in his eyes. Your knight in black and grey civilian clothes has come to the rescue. With a relieved smile you see the shiney shrug his hand off and move to the Twi`lek standing nearby. “Hello there gorgeous!”

“It seems your warning has helped. Thank you.” You touch his arm as you turn to thank him.

“A pleasure.” He already moves to go back into the crowd in the bar when you stop him.

“How can I repay your kindness? A drink? It's on me.” You motion to the bar where your friend is laughing and keeping an eye on you. When she gives you the thumbs up, you roll your eyes and grin. After her shift you will have to tell her all about what happened and how you did not try to pick up the man now looking at you.

“No need, just figured you could use a hand.” This time his smile does reach his eyes, though you also notice he still does not seem to feel right. He rubs his temple with his hand as he looks around, searching for something or someone.

“Are you ok? I mean, you seem to not feel so good?” You wonder if he had too much to drink or if he just does not like the bar as much as the other guests do. Sure, he is a clone and you are pretty sure he is one of the men that was different from all the others, as Rex had explained it to you when the topic of Clone Force 99 came up, but he seems to feel very much out of his comfort zone right now. Judging from his looks, he must be the sergeant and if your memory was correct it meant he had heightened senses. “ He must feel terrible with all these sounds and smells and all those people bumping into him! “

Like a sleepy blue ocean.

You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

The friendly smile combined with your apparent concern for his well being has him amazed and struggling for words for a moment. “Thank you, I will be fine once I can leave from here again.” He grins as he looks at you. The grin widens as he hears you chuckle and sigh right after that.

You put your hand on his arm and gently tug at it. “Don`t get the wrong idea, but please, come with me.” Guiding him through the bar, you carefully navigate the two of you through the crowd. From somewhere not too far from the two of you, you hear a gruff voice call for the man you are trying to help.

“Sarge! Nice going!” You notice a man waving a prosthetic arm at him and giving a thumb up with his other hand. Laughing, you wave at the man. “ He is lucky I am only trying to help him out a bit!” With a wink you turn around, a grinning man patiently waiting for you to take him to wherever you were planning on taking him.

It took a short ride in an air taxi to get to where you were going. During the ride there was a comfortable silence between the two of you, just looking around at the nighttime business all around. To Hunter's surprise it was not another bar or building, it was a park, still open to visitors, but none to be seen in the area. The two of you walk in through the entrance when you suddenly stop and sit down on a bench, tapping the space beside you. “Please, take a seat.”

Hunter sits down and takes a deep breath. The air is fresh, the sky is clear and the only sounds are of some of the native ducks and other avians. For the first time since he and his brothers came back from their last mission, he finally relaxes. “This is beautiful.” He looks up at the sky as he mutters the words.

“I figured you could use some space and time away from the hustle and bustle from the bar. Jesse and Rex told me about you and your brothers. This place is the last place you can actually take some time to calm down and just enjoy the view.”

Hunter closes his eyes and for a moment he just listens. The ducks and birds all singing their own specific songs in their own specific voices, the distant sounds of traffic, not loud enough to be completely recognisable and your soft breathing next to him. Then another sense takes over. The smell of grass and foliage, the fresh air that can only be found when surrounded by more nature than humans and something soft and fresh, mixed with a touch of sweetness and sharpness from alcohol. It takes him a minute to figure out the last smell is actually you. Your own scent mixed with that of 79s. It is mesmerizing and intoxicating and it is rapidly becoming his favorite scent. He has seen you around many times, might have even had some small talk with you, he could not recall to be honest, but already you have stolen a special place in his heart by simply being the attentive and sweet you. Thinking about his heightened senses and recognising his need for calmth.

Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,

Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms.

Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you

Come let me love you, come love me again.

Your soft sigh takes him out of his head and back to the moment. He opens his eyes and sees you staring at him. “Just what you needed?” Another sweet smile from you has him smiling back and nodding.

“It is perfect and just what the doctor ordered.” Without even realizing it, he slides closer to you on the bench until his leg gently presses against yours. “You have no idea how much I actually needed this and how happy you made me by taking me here.”

The two of you take a moment to just stare each other in the eyes. Slowly you lean your forehead against his and you feel him softly press his forehead against yours. Closing your eyes, you both know that right there and right then, you do not need an actual kiss, no lips crashing on each other and no passionate embraces. This is more than a kiss, it is a promise for the future. All the two of you need right now is this moment together where he carefully leans back while softly putting an arm around you. Your head resting on his shoulder as you both gaze at the stars and are lost in this silent moment together.

Let me give my life to you,

Come let me love you, come love me again.

So here you go, a little one shot about Hunter. I hope you liked it and any kind of comment or tips/idea`s are always welcome <3

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@moonstrider9904@hellothere-generalangsty@kin-rokku@reluctant-mandalore@cyroku@zinzinina@catbustours@uponrightful

#Hunter x F Reader #Hunter The Bad Batch #TBB #Hunter TBB One Shot #Song Lyric Joh Denver #Escape from Senses

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hello-everyfandom · 4 years

Text

“Look at us, dating a year and we already have three children.”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader + Friend!Marauders

Words: 1k

Summary: The Marauders are notoriously child like sometimes and you’ve began cleaning up after them like a mum would

(Here’s a short little one for you guys to make up for all the angst I’ve been throwing at you!)

“Listen, Y/N.” You heard someone say behind you. “Please don’t panic nor get upset.”

You sighed disappointingly, “What did you four do now,” closing your magazine and putting it on the common room table.

“You promise not to get upset?” Sirius asked, clasping his hands in front of him.

“It depends on what you did.”

“Well, I. Okay-” Sirius grabbed your sleeve and pulled you up to the boy’s dormitory. You heard light screams and laughter which you were assuming came from James.

As you pushed the door open, you sighed tiredly.“Alright, what happened then,” you said, walking in and taking out your wand. In the Marauder’s dorm, Peter was flying upside down on a broomstick, screaming like bloody hell. Remus was throwing pillows and duvets around to catch him in case he had taken a spill and fallen.

“Okay so-”James interrupted Sirius with his laughter, clutching at his stomach,

“Peter was wondering if we could charm a broom to see if it’d help quidditch players from falling off and-” he burst out into laughter.

“Help me!” Peter called, nearly touching the ceiling.

Your face showed disappointment as you said to Remus,“Rem, you were supposed to make sure they did their charms homework, not actually do charms!”Remus put his hands up defensively,

“Do you think I can control them, love? These boys are mad.”

Sirius placed a guilty smile on his face, “Pleease, Y/N. Please help us, we’re afraid Peter may be stuck up there till Christmas.”

“Till Christmas?!” Peter yelled as he fidgeted, almost knocking into the wall.

You sighed again and raised your wand to mutter a disenchantment spell. Peter fell from the broom and plopped on the pillows Remus had so nicely put out. He groaned and rubbed his bottom and dodged the falling broom that landed next to him.

“Sit down, boys.” You pointed at James’ bed. They all complied, all with guilty grins.

“Are you mad, Y/N? Please don’t be mad, we’re just being fools,” James leaned back,

“I’m not mad,” you started.

The boys all groaned and said in unison, “Just disappointed.”

“Precisely. Now, I’m going to finish my magazine and by the time dinner is served, I expect you four to be done with your charms homework.”

Remus stood and wrapped his arms around you to put a kiss on your lips, you raised your hand to block him, “Up,” you tutted, “No kisses until dinner.”

Remus shot daggers at the boys, “See what you lot have done? Gone and gotten me in trouble,” he said.

“Don’t act like you weren’t laughing before Y/N came up, Moony.”

“Yeah!” Peter piped in, laughing a bit himself.

You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head, “Crazy lot, all of you are.”

“Aw look at that, Mum and Pop you two.” Sirius teased.

James exploded into laughter again,“He’s so right! Blimey, Y/N, you’re like our mother, and Moony is our lousy father!”

“Lousy!?” Remus yelled, throwing a pillow at James’ laughing figure.

You clicked your tongue, “Yes well, unlike your real mother, I will not wash your pants.” All the boys burst into laughter while James grumbled with red ears. You pointed at them, “Homework, now. Mum says so.”

And with that, you left their dorm.

Going to Hogsmeade with the boys was like going to a park with toddlers. You had to pull Sirius away from kicking the head off of a snowman that some first years had built and helped Peter up from slipping on some ice. You and Remus walked hand in hand, enjoying the snowy day. As you leaned in to press a kiss to Remus’ cold lips, you heard a chorus of, “Eww’s” coming from the boys. You rolled your eyes and continued to walk to Hogsmeade. The three boys raced into Honeydukes and began picking the candies they’d like whilst you and Remus browsed the chocolate aisle. While Remus wasn’t looking, you secretly purchased a chocolate bar and some fudge that you knew he’d snack on when he was reading in bed. You heard glass shatter and thousands of small plunks on the ground. You spun to see Remus scolding the boys for knocking over the toffee display.

“Can’t take you boys anywhere, can I?” You called, Remus looked back at you with flushed cheeks. You apologized to the store clerk and offered to pay for the spilled candy to which she denied with a grumble.

“Are you boys three years old?” Remus sighed, picking up the candies with the boy’s help.

“Really, they are quite sweet. Just a little numb in the head,” you excused to the clerk before helping the boys. The day at Hogsmeade was quite fun. You bounced around, laughing and playing with your friends, making jokes and poking fun at each other.

As sunset began to settle on its way, you told the boys to bundle up before heading back to Hogwarts.“Now, hold Mummy and Daddy’s hand,” you teased, talking to the teenage boys as if they were babies, “Don’t want you to slip.”

The boys complained and refused, but you laughed anyways and took hold of Remus’ hand. “Look at us, dating a year and we already have three children.”

You grinned and shoved him a bit,

“Our real children will be quite lucky to have us, I reckon.” You leaned to kiss Remus again but felt something pelt your neck. Something wet, icy, and covered in betrayal. You turned to see James smiling and pointing at Sirius with accusation.

“I may be your mother, but I am not afraid to give you a good wallop,” you said before bending down to make your own snowball. You raised your arm and hit James squarely in the face, nearly knocking off his glasses. A battleground was placed in front of you as you five began throwing snowballs. It was a sweet day, and if you closed your eyes hard enough, you could still hear the laughter you shared and the cool snow on your skin.

#Remus lupin imagines #marauder imagines #harry potter imagines #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #marauders #harry potter #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #james potter iamgine

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dracowars · 3 years

Text

ten years apart | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x reader

word count: 6,0k

summary: where anakin comes back after ten years

a/n: i'm so sorry for the length but i just couldn't stop writing :( please get a drink and snack before reading this hella long os <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Exhaling heavily, you throw the garbage bag into the shaft and push it down with all your strength. Beads of sweat have already formed on your forehead which you wipe away with the back of your hand. It is, again, incredibly hot on Tatooine today and the unbearable heat has been beating your mind and body all day. But what temperatures can you expect from a desert planet, right?

The desert planet of hell, as you like to call it. Disgusting creatures, pirates, bounty hunters and actually all kinds of insidious henchmen cavort here in Mos Espa. The city you grew up in. The city you have always been stuck in and probably will be stuck in for the rest of your life. You come from a small and poor family, no money to escape this hell, always having to work hard to survive.

And yet you had a better life than other children here. Because you were lucky enough to not get sold as a slave. Your parents could always raise enough money - often in ways you do not support - to save you. Even though you are more than grateful, you cannot help but to sometimes wonder what would have happened if. If you became a slave, maybe just maybe, you might have met the same lucky fate as him.

It has been ten long lonely years since the two Jedi Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi were stranded on Tatooine and seeked help. You were still very young, therefore you can barely remember their faces. But you definetely do remember the face of him, Anakin Skywalker. The little boy from Tatooine.

How could you ever forget him? He was the nicest, bravest and most courteous boy you have ever met in your life. You always knew that something about him was different. The way he acted, the way he thought. There was just something about him that fascinated you and before you knew it you had developed a small crush on him. You got along well and you loved to watch him when he was working on his droid yet again. He always told you about his dreams, how he wanted to help, how much he wanted to get away from this dump called Tatooine. With his mother.

And with you.

Anakin and his mother Shmi Skywalker were slaves and belonged to Watto, one of the many junk dealers and human traffickers of Mos Espa. Even though they must have had a terrible life, Anakin always stayed positive. The smile on his dirt-stained face when he was building on his droid was priceless and you can see it in front of you as if it was yesterday. In fact, it has been ten years.

Ten years since the Jedi Masters took Anakin with them to train him as a Padawan in the ways of the Jedi. You were happy for him, you really were. He was finally able to leave this terrible planet and live a better life elsewhere. But to a certain price, since he had to go without his mother and also without you, his best friend.

"Y/N! These tables do not clean themselves!", a voice calls for you from inside and you just roll your eyes before leaving the heat outside, entering the building again. Inside, the musty smell of smoke greets you, low music plays in the background and you go straight towards the round bar in the middle of the room. This is the most popular hotspot of Mos Espa: the infamous Twin Sun, a bar in the center of the city. The place where the creepiest species float around, where the dirty business is done.

You absolutely hate your job in the bar. Every day you have to tidy up and serve under worst conditions. Especially in the later hours of the evening, when it is completely overcrowded, you are running back and forth every second, receiving disgusting comments from the guests. However, hardly anyone is here in the early morning and you have to only take care of the leftovers from the previous day. Unfortunately though, you have to endure this kind of job.

Your parents, who always saved you from the worst, are too old and weak now to raise money themselves and you felt obliged to take on this role. That is also the reason why you have several jobs at the same time. In addition to working in the Twin Sun, you also work at some booths at the weekly market and when you are lucky, you can sometimes even help out on the farms outside of the city. It is the only way to ensure your family's survival.

While you are about to wipe the empty tables, the roaring unpleasant noises of podracers echo through the building, sweeping through the bar like an earthquake, and the following loud cheers of the audience can hardly be overheard. The race is also a reason why it is exceptionally empty here today. Almost every living creature in Mos Espa is in the Grand Arena, cheering on their favorite, probably making some bets beforehand.

Personally, you hate these races more than anything.

Besides being totally unfair and dangerous, it is really just about the money - the money you do not own. The same participant always wins and despite your hatred of these races, you watched one of them for the first and last time when Anakin himself participated, won and was thus able to free himself from slavery. Only his mother remained on Tatooine but he promised he would come back and rescue her once he is a fully trained Jedi.

It has now been ten years and he has still not shown up.

Well, maybe he did show up after all, just did not look for you as he initinally promised. Maybe he only picked up his mother, not you.

A few years ago you had to watch how his mother got sold at the weekly market, but the buyer actually seemed very nice and later you found out that he even gave her freedom and took her as his wife. The man called Cliegg Lars used to come to the bar regularly until a few weeks ago. Does Anakin know, or can he maybe even feel, what happened?

"What do you think you are doing?! Finally work for your money or I will kick you out!", the bartender, who is also your boss, suddenly yells at you and pulls you out of your thoughts. "Sorry", you huff out and continue to clean up the tables at a quicker pace. It is a day like any other day. At least that is what you thought.

After you have cleaned all the tables you stand behind the bar and tidy up the glasses. Meanwhile it is already in the afternoon and the bar is much more crowded than it was this morning, which means more work for you. However, for some inexplicable reason, you are very distracted today, your mind always wandering off, and when you do not pay attention for a tiny second, a glass slips out of your hand and shatters into a million pieces.

"Watch out!", your boss grumbels at you immediately, only waiting for such an opportunity. Quietly cursing under your breath, you pick up some of the broken pieces. With a hiss you reflexively pull back your hand after accidentally cutting yourself on a sharp piece. Quickly, you put the small bleeding area against your lips to stop the blood from flowing.

"A table just got free back there! Clean it", your boss orders, not waiting for you to get up again as he almost throws the wet cloth into your face. Trying to control the rising anger inside of you as best as possible, you stand up, dispose of the broken pieces and make your way to said table. When you reach it, you have an uncomfortable feeling all of a sudden, a feeling of someone watching you. You turn around but do not see anyone looking into your direction. Shaking off the weird feeling, you take care of your task and then go back behind the counter to do your work while you hear your boss talking loudly to one of the guests on the other side.

"Watto, Watto.. Never heard of him before", he says thoughtfully over the music. You frown irritated and bend over to be able to see your boss. He is talking to a young, handsome man who seems quite determined about finding Watto. "Buy something or get out of here, kid!", your boss suddenly threathens, but the young man seems pretty unimpressed. Nevertheless, he turns around and leaves but not without your eyes meeting first. His blue eyes shimmer in the weak light and while turning away, he pulls the brown hood of his cloak over his head.

Even though your boss did not call you for help, something deep inside of you tells you to help this unknown, mysterious man. After all, you actually know Watto. You worked for him in your younger years until he went bankrupt eventually. Therefore, it is very uncommon and suspicious for someone to ask for him.

You put everything aside right away and go to your boss, who seems to be in an extremely bad mood today. "I take my break now", you quickly let him know and without giving him a chance to answer, you already head towards the entrance. When you arrive outside, you take a look around and spot the young man just a few meters away from you. Running after him, you gently tug on his sleeve to draw his attention to you.

"Excuse me", you stop him in his tracks and he turns to you with confusion written all over his face. "I heard you ask my boss about Watto in the bar. I know where to find him."

His face seems even more surprised now and he raises his eyebrows. "Really?", he asks, a hint of hope in his voice. You nod in agreement. "Can you lead me to him?", he resolutely asks and you nod again.

"You do not look like you are from here. What do you want from Watto?", you ask him curiously and go ahead to lead the way while he follows right behind you. "That is not important and also none of your business, I think", he replies emotionless, only looking ahead and not at you. You are a little taken aback by his harsh words but decide that it is best to not ask any more questions. He seems quite serious about it and somehow you still cannot get rid of this strange feeling inside of you.

You lead the way to the market, where some stalls are set up, and finally find Watto at his regular place in the shade of a house. He sits on a small chair and is currently busy examining a screw in his hand as you both approach him. Watto raises his gaze when he realizes that someone is walking towards him and as soon as he recognizes you, he flutters into the air excitedly.

"Oh! I have not seen you in a long time", he laughs and looks at the unknown man next to you. "There is someone who was looking for you, Watto", you explain in Huttese and point to the young man next to you, who bows his head slightly as if he could also understand what you are saying. Which is ridiculous, of course, because only Tatooine people can speak and understand Huttese.

Immediately Watto flies back, unsure whether he has done anything wrong. "Excuse me?", he trys hiding his nervousness, suspiciously looking at you.

Instead of telling Watto what he wants, he picks up a piece of equipment and fiddles with it. "Let me help you with that", he murmurs under his breath while actually speaking in Huttese, fixing the broken piece. "What? I do not know you! What can I do for you?", Watto grumbels but his eyes widen at once as he discovers something. "You look like a Jedi. Whatever it is.. I did not do it!"

A Jedi?

The next words abruptly catch you off guard and your heart completely stops beating.

"I am looking for Shmi Skywalker."

You look at him in shock as he pulls the hood down, Watto looking at him exactly the way you do as he finally lets out the words you were too scared to say.

"Ani? Little Ani?", Watto breathes out in astonishment, now using Basic instead of Huttese. When Watto then realizes that he fixed the broken piece, he happily jumps into the air. "You are Ani! You sure sprouted! A Jedi! Hey, maybe you couldda help wit some deadbeats who owe me a lot of money.."

"My mother."

"Oh, yes. Shmi.. she is not mine no more. I sold her", Watto confesses, obviously feeling uncomfortable about the situation while you are still not able to get out a word as they get stuck in your throat.

You were sure that you would never see Anakin again in your life, that he would have long forgotten about you. And now that he is actually back, that he is actually standing right next to you, you cannot believe it. He changed so much that you did not even recognize him.

And it seems he does not recognize you either.

"Sold her?"

"Years ago. Sorry, Ani, but you know, business is business."

"Who did you sell her to?"

"I-I do not remember, actually. I think it was a farmer, yeah, a moisture farmer probably", Watto stutters and his words pull you out of your trance all of a sudden, hitting a trigger in your head.

"His name, Watto."

"I-I think I do not know-"

"Cliegg", you mention softly, turning your gaze to Anakin whose brows are furrowed in confusion. "His name is Cliegg Lars."

"How could you-", Anakin starts, slowly becoming more tense, but as he looks at you more closely, at your face and in your beautiful glistening eyes, his expression suddenly softens. "Y/N?"

"Anakin", you say barely audible, trying to prevent your eyes from watering at hearing your name out of his mouth for the first time in years.

He does remember you. He did not forget about your existence.

You both cannot help but stare at each other for what feels like hours before he gently pulls you into his now very strong arms, hugging you tightly.

After all these years you were separated one would probably think that the hug would be uncomfortable and awkward. But it is far from that. Anakin's embrace is warm and soft, like it used to be when he was still here. He just got stronger and much taller since then.

He grew up.

On a whole different planet, far far away from you.

He has become a Jedi and fights for justice in the galaxy while you are still stuck on the same old planet, struggeling to keep your family alive.

"I can't believe it is actually you, Y/N!", Anakin gives you a warm smile after breaking the hug, his hands still resting on your forearms to keep you close while scanning you from the top to the bottom. "You have grown so much."

"I could say the same to you", you giggle, hiding your bright smile behind your hand while you blush. His blue eyes have become even brighter than you remember them and his face and stature in general look extremely healthy. If someone had told you years ago that Anakin would develop into such a handsome man, you almost would not have believed them. Yet, in your eyes he is still the same Anakin.

"And you are a Jedi", you mumble, pointing to the lightsaber attached to his belt under his brown cloak. Anakin continues to stare at you for a moment before finding his way back to reality.

"O-Oh yes. My lightsaber", he stumbles over his words and looks down at his weapon, but makes sure to completely hide it behind the fabric after that while clearing his throat. Slowly but surely it suddenly gets a bit awkward between you, none of you knowing what to say or where to start.

You have so much to tell him and still want to ask him so many question, but you do not know how.

"So, you know where my mother is?", Anakin finally speaks up again and breaks the silence, but with a question you did not quite hope for.

"It is very far outside of Mos Espa, yes. I can bring you there", you answer with a little sadness in your voice. Of course, he wants to find his mother after all these years.

"Hey! When you come back, make sure to visit me. Ani, I could really need some help, you know", Watto calls after you both as you show Anakin the way.

"He has not changed a bit", Anakin chuckles slightly next to you and follows you over the street, where you pass numerous creatures and vehicles.

"We need a vehicle to get there", you absently speak to yourself while searching for a suitable one. "Or a Dewback works too."

"A landspeeder sounds good", Anakin immediately answers after you end your sentence, almost interrupting you. With raised eyebrows you look at him sceptically.

"What happened to your sense of adventure?"

"I got older, I guess", he sighs and you hear out some sadness in his voice for the split of a second, but you tell yourself that it must have been your imagination.

"We all did", you mumble and finally agree to take a landspeeder instead of a dewback, even though it is much more expensive. However, Anakin insists on paying and after doing so you sit in the passenger seat, patiently waiting for him to join you and start driving.

At high speed you whiz over the dry sand and out of the city towards the seemingly endless outback. From time to time you glance over at Anakin, who does not look at you once, not even when you tell him the directions. When you catch yourself staring at him for longer than a second, you look away quickly but not without noticing the changes in his apperance.

His face has become much more striking and his hair got darker. The dark brown cloak that is covering his body compliments his eyes and makes them shine even more.

On your way you drive past a group of Jawas with their Sandcrawler, who are currently busy taking apart an abandoned spaceship that has apparently been stranded out here.

After a few more minutes you finally reach the Lars homestead and get out of the speeder, Anakin giving you a helping hand that you shyly accept. He keeps his gaze on the dome in front of you though and you can feel the nervousness that suddenly emanates from him.

As soon as you both walk towards it, a girl, younger than Anakin and you, comes up the stairs after she has apparently heard your arrival. Which is honestly not very difficult out here regarding the fact nobody comes here that often.

"Can I help you?", she asks, concern in her voice, and the longer you look at her, the more familiar she gets until it clicks in your head. She is Cliegg's daughter-in-law. You have often worked together on the farm. It seems like she already recognized you as the concern in her face slowly fades.

"Beru, right? I often helped you out on your farm", you take a step towards her and she nods in agreement before glancing at Anakin, who is standing directly behind you.

"We are looking for Shmi", you explain and Beru's brows furrow, obviously confused as to why you search for her.

"She is currently at the market in Mos Eisley with my boyfriend. But they should be back any moment", she mentions and then points down the stairs behind her. "If you want, you can wait for her inside."

Accepting her offer, you follow her inside the dome and you are completely amazed when you arrive at the open pit, a crater housing a courtyard from which all rooms can be accessed. You saw the huge hole in the ground before but never paid attention to it.

You follow Beru into what seems to be a kitchen and she asks you to sit down, but before you are able to, Anakin suddenly turns around due to a noise and a man in a power chair appears behind you.

"Who are you? What do you want?", he asks grumpily and Anakin's grip around his lightsaber on his belt, probably a reflex, reduces as you step in between. "Oh, Y/N! It is you!"

"Good afternoon, Cliegg. I am sorry for our unannounced visit, but we are looking for your.. wife", you say, almost whispering your last words, your heart stopping for a moment when you realize Anakin does not even know his mother married this farmer.

"What?", Anakin asks, shocked, his eyes widened and his lips split while he takes a step forward.

"I am Cliegg Lars. Shmi is my wife. Then you must be my stepson", Cliegg introduces himself and offers Anakin a handshake, which gets refused as Anakin just stares at him in disbelief.

"How is that possible?", Anakin breathes, directing his gaze to the ground, and you discover how he fiddles with the sleeves of his cloak in despair.

"I bought her from Watto at that time and gave her freedom before I made her my wife", Cliegg explains calmly, also noticing Anakin's displeasure about the situation. "My son and Shmi are just-"

He does not get to finish his sentence when loud screams and shouts interrupt him out of nowhere, silencing all of you. A brief moment later you are already on your way back up, Anakin ahead.

Once at the top you spot another landspeeder that has stopped in the distance, fuming. Due to the bright sunlight it is difficult at first to see that two people approach you, followed by several aggressive, snarling Massiffs. Disgusting beasts from hell that usually only live in the mountains unless they have been tamed by Tusken Raiders for their own purposes.

Quickly, you come to the conclusion that they must have been attacked by Tusken Raiders, who are now chasing their pets after them. It takes another second until you all realize that these two people running towards you are none other than Anakin's mother and stepbrother.

"Owen!", Beru desperately exclaims next to you, hands covering her mouth in shock.

Without hesitation, Anakin and you sprint straight towards them at the same time, hoping to somehow help and save them. But when suddenly a blue light brightly erupts next to you, you almost forget to keep running.

Anakin now runs towards them with his ignited lightsaber, much faster than you, and reaches them in seconds. Positioning himself protectively in front of them, waiting until they have run past him, he kills one of the Massiffs with the single stroke of his deadly weapon.

"Y/N, get them to safety!", Anakin shouts while he is fighting with the Massiffs, and you obey his words, quickly escorting them back to their house.

Glancing back after you have brought them inside safely, Anakin has just fended off an attack and pushes the monster a few meters back through the air, his hand outstretched. Finally, yowling and panting, the few survivors retreat and if you would not have called out Anakin's name, you are sure he would have followed them.

Deactivating his lightsaber, he quickly comes back to you, his face flooded with anger and pain. However, instead of paying attention to you, he walks straight past you.

"Are you injured?", you catch his upper arm worriedly and bring him to a stop. Shaking his head, he immediately removes his arm from your grip and continues his way down the stairs. With a sigh, you follow him.

"Where is she?", Anakin asks emotionlessly when reaching the bottom of the stairs, stopping abruptly and causing you to accidentally run into him.

"Ani?", a quiet voice finally sounds and Shmi steps out.

"Mom", Anakin swallows hard and embraces her tightly in his arms as she comes running towards him. After ten long years, mother and son are finally reunited.

"Oh, you look so handsome", Shmi sobs and takes a closer look at Anakin, taking his face between her hands, whereupon Anakin places a kiss on her palm. "My son. Oh, my grown up son. I am so proud of you, Ani."

"I missed you", he sniffs in response and a few tears find their way down his, her and also your cheeks.

"You came back, I can't believe it", she happily smiles at him, pride showing in her eyes.

"Just like I promised", he gives her the same smile and they hug each other again.

"And you saved us. You truly became a Jedi", Shmi sobs and Anakin gives her a kiss on the forehead before her gaze falls on you for the first time. "Y/N! Thank you so much for bringing him here."

"Of course", you wipe away your happy tears and smile back at her.

"Let us eat something, children", Cliegg then suggests while already being on his way to the kitchen, followed by his son and daugther-in-law.

"You might want to freshen up. I will show you where you can", Shmi offers and leads you both through a hole in the wall into a medium-sized room before she reluctantly separates from Anakin.

"Show me your leg", you order as soon as Shmi is out of reach and he turns around to you in confusion. "Your leg, Anakin. I saw you limp."

"It is not that bad", he shrugs it off and puts his Jedi robe aside, revealing his broad shoulders.

"Please", you repeat again and stare at him worriedly until he is no longer able to hold your gaze and pulls up his pants to reveal his leg. You have to swallow hard when a gaping wound appears on his shin and it takes you a lot of self control to not scream at him right there.

"That has to be treated, Ani!", you rebuke him indignantly, but now he is the one who keeps staring at you until you notice what you have just said. "A-Anakin, I mean."

"N-No, no! It is okay. I like when you call me that, it just... it has been some time since you last did", he clears his throat and your cheeks turn into a slight shade of red.

"Y-Yes, a long time ago. But we have gotten older, like you said", you stutter out, trying to make the situation less awkward. "I will ask if they have Bacta patches here, fix you up and make my way home."

"What are you even talking about?", Anakin raises his voice all of a sudden, rather unintentionally as you notice in his subsequent expression, while he grabs your wrist tightly to keep you from walking away.

"You have just seen your mother for the first time in ten years. I am sure you have a lot to tell her and I do not want to stand in the way", you explain and place your hand on top of his to loosen his grip, but to no avail.

"But.. I want to tell you too, Y/N. You are forgetting that I saw you again for the first time in ten years as well. I do not want you to go now", Anakin admits and takes a step closer to you, his eyes pleading to not leave him. "Apart from that, I will certainly not let you go now when these monsters are out there."

Leaving you no choice and not even a chance to answer, he suddenly pulls you into a tight hug, much like he did with his mother.

"I missed you so damn much", he softly whispers and you can't help but smile while you wrap your arms around him.

"I missed you too, Ani", you mumble against his shoulder and claw your hands into the fabric of his clothes.

Although you already hugged each other when you first met today, this one feels much more intense than before. It makes you feel safe and warm and comfortable, a feeling that you have not felt on this planet for a long time. For ten years, to be exact.

The next morning, you tiredly step outside into the burning hot twin suns and follow the voices coming from the kitchen. You stayed awake late yesterday and Anakin told you everything. From start to finish, he explained everything about his training to you, everything that happened after he left ten years ago. You have eagerly listened to his stories about the numerous adventures and here and there caught yourself staring at him sadly but lovingly.

Even though he pretended to be strong while telling these heartbreaking stories, you could see that he is not. After all these long years you can still read it on his face in an instant. He was not strong after Qui-Gon Jinn was killed shortly after their departure and also not when he became Padawan of a Jedi who was almost still a Padawan himself. He was not strong when he has been seperated from his family and he still is not as strong as he pretends to be. No matter from which point of view you look at it, Anakin is still the little boy from Tatooine.

"Good morning", you yawn when you meet the Lars family in the kitchen.

"Sit down, Y/N. I made breakfast", Shmi happily greets you and puts a plate down for you on the table.

You have not seen Shmi this happy in a long time. You never met her often after Cliegg freed her from slavery, but when you did, she always looked very absent and, above all, sad. She seems like a whole different person now.

"If you are looking for Anakin, he is outside", Shmi mentions when she notices your mental absence. Shyly, you nod and give her a warm smile. After you have eaten up your breakfast, you make your way upstairs. Arriving outside, you briefly get blinded by the bright suns when the dome no longer offers you protection.

However, as soon as your eyes get used to the sunlight, your breath gets caught in your lungs when a huge spaceship appears in your field of vision. The ship landed just a few meters away from the farm, the boarding hatch open. You spot Anakin in front of it, deeply submerged in a conversation with another man.

Said man notices you right away and draws Anakin's attention to you with a subtle head movement. When Anakin then sees you and the worried expression on your face, he waves you over. Nervously, you set yourself in motion and approach them.

"What is going on here, Anakin?", you ask shyly after discovering a lightsaber on the other man's belt, quickly gesturing a bow with your head.

"This is my master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe you still remember him", Anakin introduces him to you and, in fact, you actually do remember his face.

"If this isn't the little girl from back then who watched us leave with such a heartbreaking expression", Obi-Wan loudly thinks and scratches his beard before patting Anakin's shoulder. "I will go ahead and meet Padmé on board."

At his words, an uncomfortable feeling of nervousness rushs through your body until it turns into a feeling of sheer fear. Not only because you remember the name and its associated, incredibly beautiful Queen of Naboo, - which Anakin also told you about in his stories - but also because you suddenly feel like your worst nightmare turns into reality.

"W-What does he mean by that?", you stutter out, not really wanting to hear an answer to your question, but Anakin gently puts his hands on either side of your cheeks to calm you down.

"The Jedi Order has called Obi-Wan and me back to Coruscant, along with the senator", Anakin sighs and sadly looks to the ground, his thumb lightly stroking your skin. "My mother is happy here and that is most important for me. I now know that she is fine and safe."

Transforming his words into sharp weapons, they painfully shoot through your heart and you take a step back immediately, breaking the body contact with him.

"But I am not, Anakin!", you yell at him desperately, much louder than originally intended, and he just looks at you in shock from your sudden outburst. "I am not fine since you left ten years ago! I can't do this anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No, do not touch me! Please", you sob and wrap your arms around your own body in order to protect you from further damage. "Would you- Would you have even searched for me at all if I had not found you first?!"

Breathing hard while accusing him, he remains quiet and does not answer. His eyes wander around, desperately seeking an appropriate answer that will not hurt you, but he terribly fails.

"That's what I thought", your voice breaks and a single tear runs down your cheek before you turn around and walk away. However, you do not get very far when you feel a firm grip on your arm and are turned around again to face him shortly afterwards, your bodies only inches away from each other.

"Come with me."

"W-What?"

"Come back to Coruscant with me, Y/N", he begs you, his voice full of sorrow.

"A-Ani-"

"I had a dream about my mother and about you. You were badly injured and I was too late to save you", Anakin confesses, desperation prominent in his coarse voice, opening up to you all of a sudden, letting his guard down and showing you his vulnerable side for once. "That is why I came back. That is why I am back on Tatooine."

"A-Anakin. I can't.. I have responsibilities here", you choke out and look away, not able to hold his pleading gaze while your hands and knees shake in fear. "I have to go back to my parents.. I can't just leave them like this."

Silence spreads between you until Anakin lifts your face up with his fingers on your chin, deeply looking into your eyes. Suddenly your fear is reflected in his glassy eyes. A fear you last saw all those years ago when he left. When he had to leave his mother and you behind. It is precisely this fear that is now reappearing in his eyes and all of a sudden the little boy from Tatooine is back, not wanting to leave his home.

"I understand", his shaky voice whispers as he is close to tears as well.

How much you would like to just go with him. To just leave everything behind and finally get off this dirty planet. But you know it would not be fair to your parents and that you can't just leave them behind. As much as you would love to go with Anakin, you would never forgive yourself if you did.

"I am really sorry, Ani", you carefully say and place your hands on his upper arms to steady yourself before he pulls you closer and places his chin on top of your head.

"I will come back", he breathes into your hair and his voice sounds so fragile in your ears that you can no longer hold back the pricking tears, letting them stream down your cheeks freely. "I promise."

"I will wait for you", you fake a smile through your tears before he gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, leaving a warm spot there.

The following repeated exclamation of his name coming from his master makes your heart ache even more and Anakin takes a step away from you, breaking off any contact.

"See you soon", he forces a smile and slowly retreats backwards to the spaceship, not averting his gaze from you and repeatedly raising his hand to wave goodbye.

Your eyes filled with tears and your vision blurred, you watch him leave and say goodbye with a heavy heart.

After ten long years you were finally able to see him again. You were ten years apart and now you pray that it will not be another ten years until you meet again.

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