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swbumblebee · 7 months

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They were having a lovely cosy night. Some nonsense holodrama was on, the heater was blasting and Jedi Master and Time Traveller Plo Koon was idly scrolling through a pad contemplating a second glass of wine. From his own comfortable spot on the sofa next to him, his partner in time travel and Master of the Order Mace Windu sighed and shifted his feet of the caff table next to Plo’s own, not a moment before an alarm on his chrono went off.

Plo grunted questioningly at him, feeling uncharacteristically lazy and sleepy. The other man stretched as he stood up.

“Meeting with Cin about The Tournament” he mumbled back, gathering himself.

“Oh!”

Plo loved The Tournament. He’d missed it so much during the war, that first time round. The annual Coruscant Temple Sabre Tournament was something so special. Seeing aged Masters grumbling good naturedly trying to catch their breath, energetic young Knights teasing each other and Padawans gleefully egging each other on brought a sense of camaraderie and family that was lost forever once the war began.

“I’ll come with you” he decided, ignoring Mace’s surprised expression as he sat up with renewed vigour.

---

Plo tuned out as Mace and Cin Drallig, Battle Master extraordinaire, gestured at charts and catering costs on one of the benches in the corner of the main dojo. Neither seemed to mind his presence, Cin seemed unsurprised when they came as a pair.

While he left the boring logistics to the two senior Jedi he scrolled through the contenders list, comforted by the familiar names and intrigued by some interesting matches. It would be a lively affair.

He frowned, noticing something as he got to the Knights section.

Kab…

Kedib…

Kirin…

Krag…

He frowned further, checking the Senior Padawan section just in case.

Nope, not what he was looking for.

“Has Knight Kenobi not signed up for the tournament?” he asked loudly, interrupting the other two and not caring one bit. He got a pulse of mild irritation from Mace but interestingly, Cin simply let out a breath.

It wasn’t compulsory for every Jedi to take part in the tournament but there was certainly an obligation, particularly for Knights, to act as an example for their peers. To learn from each other and to inspire the next generation. It was just the Done Thing.

The Battle Master for the temple looked uncharacteristically perturbed.

“Kenobi…” he sat back and folded his thick arms, pausing, and Plo saw Mace’s face sharpen in stern worry.

“He’s been here… a lot, in the past few months. At funny times.” The scarred said, clearly picking his words carefully. “I’ve been helping him along, but most of the time I’m not here. I only see his name on the sign in sheet at all hours of the night.” He explained slowly.

Plo and Mace exchanged glances. That wasn’t good.

“Hmm. He didn’t sign up last year I assume, for obvious reasons” Mace asked with raised eyebrows.

Cin nodded.

“He’s changed his form since then, I’ve tried to ask him about it a couple of times but you know how he is.” He had a familiar look of exasperation on his face. Plo knew it well. When he didn’t want to, there wasn’t a force in the Galaxy that could make Obi-Wan Kenobi talk. Plo remembered it only got worse with age, to the infuriation of Sith across the galaxy that first time around.

Mace sighed and leaned back.

---

The Master of the Jedi Order cursed to himself under his breath and barely resisted the urge to grumble at nothing. He knew Obi-Wan somehow managed to function on dangerously little sleep (at all ages, apparently) but he himself had never managed to master the skill and his mood was as dark as the Courscant sky outside, at 3rd hour. Plo had offered to go, but Mace had a worrying suspicion it would end in a cuddle and a nap rather than what was necessary.

He was trying not to dwell on how suspicious he looked, loitering outside the main Dojo at this time of night, when his quarry came quietly and around the corner apparently deep in thought.

23-year-old Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi came to an abrupt and (rather comical) startled stop.

“Master!”

“Good evening, or should I say, good morning, Obi-Wan” Mace made no move to step away from the door to the dojo, but neither towards the young man in front of him.

“I…Hello there, Master. What…” the young man faltered, clearly still trying to find his footing. “What…are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

Mace noted he definitely wasn’t at his best. Obviously not as well put together as he was in the daylight hours, there was none of the usual perceptive glint behind his eyes, his hair had obviously been pushed hurriedly into place and his robe was nowhere to be seen.

Mace shrugged.

“Shall we?” he gestured to the door behind him, entering the dojo.

Obi-Wan looked at the door dubiously before following.

“So.”

They stood in the vast hall, facing each other. Mace was very conscious they had both taken up sparring positions. So be it.

“So” he repeated calmly. “Do you want to tell me why you are practicing at this force-forsaken hour or shall I beat it out of you?” he asked politely with a smile, shifting his stance a little.

The young mans eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what you mean Master, the Dojos are open all hours, surely encouraging practice at all hours” came the similarly polite answer.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He ignited his purple blade and assumed the opening stance of his favoured form, Vaapad.

“Come on then” he instructed the Knight. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened a little in surprise upon realising his mentor was serious, but then were filled with resolve as he too changed his stance.

And then immediately Mace Windu had the breath knocked out of his chest when, instead of the classic Ataru that he’d come to associate with the young Obi-Wan (indeed, the form he had become known for after using it to defeat Darth Maul) he was instead faced with the dramatic stance of Soresu.

He cursed himself, Cin had mentioned it but seeing it was something he had not been prepared for.

Lightsabre parallel to the floor and left arm extended with fingers pointing towards him, for a split second it wasn’t vulnerable, unsure Knight Kenobi Mace was seeing, it was the fearsome Master Kenobi. The Master of Soresu, and his comrade in arms. He’d seen that stance in the very worst of situations and every time it meant hope and determination.

“...Master?”

He was snapped back to the present by the slightly awkward prompt from the young man in front of him.

He grunted, trying to find his mental footing again.

“Not all of us are at our best at third hour young Obi-Wan” he grumbled, gratified when he got the ghost of a smile in response.

“Now then, let’s begin. And we will be speaking when I win” Mace warned, very clearly the Master of the Order.

Obi-Wan said nothing, his lips thinning as the match began.

---

The Master was gratified to see the young knight was panting a little as he yielded the match. Mace hadn’t won against Master Kenobi very often, in that first time around. It was good to know he still had some years left to enjoy it.

But not long, he noted. The young Knight was not there yet of course, but it he was good. Incredibly good for a Jedi of his level, using a difficult form. Mace was impressed.

“That was impressive. Very impressive Obi-Wan” he said, clapping him on the back as they both made to sit on the benches around the side of the dojo, Obi-Wan seemingly having lost the energy that fuelled his usual stubbornness, he allowed himself to be led by Mace.

“You’ve changed form.” the elder Jedi pointed out, cutting straight to the point. It was too early for beating around the munjabush.

“I have.” The young man beside him was looking at the floor as he answered. Mace felt the atmosphere in the room dip, the force tingling in his ears.

“Why?”

There was a pause. Obi-Wan kept looking at the floor.

Mace sighed.

“I hope you know, Obi-Wan, that you can tell me anything.” He said gently, projecting trust and safety at him through the force.

His young companion looked up at him with a watery smile. He took a breath.

“After Qui-Gon, after Naboo” he started slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully “I kept trying…” he faltered, a faraway quality to his voice.

“Every time I started Ataru, I was back there behind the ray shields.” he said softly, looking down at the floor again. “After a bit of trial-and-error, it appeared to be a trigger for me, so I decided to change forms. Soresu seemed like a natural choice, I have a Padawan to defend now after all.”

Mace starred at him, finding himself once again at a loss. He knew Obi-Wan had changed forms at some point, but he’d never really given it much thought first. Lots of Knights experimented with new forms as soon as they were out of their Master’s shadow. But they generally didn’t do it incognito.

“Is that why you’ve been pushing yourself so hard? Coming here at all hours on top of everything else?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

His companion cleared his throat.

“It was difficult, at first. I didn’t…didn’t want anyone to know in case…” He trailed off.

Understanding dawned for Mace.

“In case you couldn’t do it.” He clarified, dismayed when he got a silent nod in return.

“Obi-Wan” Mace didn’t quite know what to say, working very hard to release his complicated emotions into the Force before the suddenly fragile man next to him picked up on them. Not least his slightly irrational anger.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t think we’d reject you or punish you because you couldn’t pick up a lightsabre.” He asked with a groan. The young man looked up at him in shock at the judgement in Mace’s tone. Giving him his answer.

“Er…”

Mace turned to him and shook his head in disbelief.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are a talented, intelligent person who is an asset to the Order in more ways than I can list at this time in the morning. You are worth far more than your warrior skill” he took a breath, taking in the bewildered and slightly alarmed face next to him. “And I am sorry that that hasn’t been made clear to you.” He finished with a gentler tone, shame swelling slightly within him.

He felt a slight tug on his bond with Plo, the other Master picking up on the maelstrom he was feeling. They’d have to meditate later.

Obi-Wan obviously didn’t know what to say, and Mace was satisfied to let the words sink in for a moment.

“Do you think, perhaps, that it might be prudent for you to speak to someone about all this?” he suggested lightly. “We have an entire wing of Mind healers for a reason, my friend.”

Obi-Wan chewed his bottom lip, looking achingly young.

“I don’t know” he said slowly. “Qui-Gon never really liked…” he trailed off again, looking at the floor.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Yes well, Force love him he was a good friend but Qui-Gon was a complicated man and let’s be honest, could be a bit of an idiot at times” he said, making sure his fondness for his old friend was obvious, pleased when it brought another watery smile out of his young friend.

“Maybe.” He admitted.

Mace decided to take what he could get.

“Please think about it. If you like, Plo or I could go with you” he offered. This time he did get a full smile and a slight eye roll in response.

“I’m sure I can handle it Master, I’m perfectly capable-“

“I know I know!” Mace held up his hands in defence “Just the offer is there.”

He stood up.

“Now then, time for bed I think” he activated his Senior Master mode, suddenly all business. “Please stop practicing at stupid hours of the morning, you’re making Master Drallig nervous. Sign yourself up for some proper tutoring” he instructed.

“Yes Master” Obi-Wan stood with a bow of acquiescence before they moved together towards the doors.

“Oh and Obi-Wan” Mace caught him as they closed the doors and stood in the silent corridor. “Do think about signing up for the tournament. You have a lot to offer.” He suggested.

The other Jedi hesitated.

“I…I will Master” he promised with a dip of his head.

“That’s all I ask” Mace reassured.

After they separated with one final bow of goodbye, Mace leant against the cool wall in relief, letting his emotions wash over him and into the Force, with the Force equivalent of a grunt from Plo down their bond.

He’d never known about Obi-Wan’s seemingly classic case of PTSD. And the obvious fear of rejection made his unrelenting quest for perfection and independence, that first time around, make sense.

But not this time. Mace smiled. They had a long way to go, but acknowledgement and mind healers were good, and Mace and Plo would be there every step of the way. This time.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #Mace Windu #Plo Koon #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Knight Kenobi #Family #Fluff #careful #Mentions of #PTSD #woops sorry this one got a bit long!

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kholran · 4 months

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My Journey To You || 1.16 -Elder Yue, the three forms of Moon Slash look much more powerful than the three forms of Snow Sabre. -Look at you. If you see Young Master Xue next time don't... Don't forget what you said. You have to say it loudly in front of him again.

#my journey to you #mjty #mjtyedit #cdrama #cdramaedit #yue gongzi #zuo ye #my gifs

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toasttt11 · 2 months

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first nhl game

April 11, 2023

Grey walked through the prudential Arena with her dad, Ellen and Jim. They headed to their seats and sat down, Her dad wearing a devils bomber jacket, Ellen having on her devils scarf and Jim wearing all black, and Grey proudly wore her Luke Hughes Devils Jersey.

Grey bounced her leg, excited to see Luke. Grey having just started her season and have been out of the county for the last few weeks having just gotten back early this morning from London, having to go to the factory after having won her race in Australia.

She sadly couldn’t make it Luke’s frozen four tournament and she really wanted to have been there for him especially since it was his last games, but she was glad she got to go a bunch of his games at Michigan when her season ended and got to watch him play at Umich once more.

She watched as the lights dimmed and couldn’t help but smile so extremely proud, watching Luke skate on the ice and start his NHL rookie lap, she held onto Ellen’s hand tightly as they all watched him begin to start his dream.

Grey was loudly cheering for her boyfriend with a proud smile etched on her face and knew it was going to be there all day.

Grey watched the whole game intently against the Buffalo Sabres sitting at the edge of seat, the game was definitely super intense and the Devils played an amazing game and ended up winning 6-2.

Grey laughed softly watching as Luke skated off the ice having just played his first ever NHL game.

Carter, Jim and Ellen all had proud looks on their faces as they watched Luke play.

The four walked down to the locker room waiting for the team to come out, Grey stood slighty behind her family wanting to suprise Luke, as she didn’t tell him she could make his game tonight.

Luke ran a hand through his wet curls as he walked out of the locker room after his first NHL game, Jack walking right next to him having just had one of his most favorite games he played getting to play with his little brother.

“There’s a surprise for you.” Jack smirked at his brother and nudged him towards their family, knowing Grey was here.

“What?” Luke looked down at Jack but Jack only gestured towards their family. Luke looked over seeing his family move slight letting him see Grey.

He let out a breath of disbelief and could feel a wider smile forming on his face, He let out a fond chuckle seeing Grey just shrugged with a smile and Luke quickly walked towards her pulling her into a tight hug.

Grey let out a breath of relief resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, “I’m so proud of you baby.” She whispered againt his chest pressing a soft kiss against his chest.

Luke smiled contently as he had his girl in his arms for the first time in almost two months, he leaned down pressing a kiss to the top of her hand and rested his chin on her head, “I thought you couldn’t come today?” Luke having been understanding that she couldn’t come but was pretty sad.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Grey promised, having spent longer days in the factory to make sure she could get to his first NHL game.

“Thank you.” Luke whispered softly kissing the top of her head.

“Wanna go home?” Grey giddily asked, knowing that Luke had moved into her apartment while she gone and couldn’t wait to go home with him.

“Let’s go home.” Luke smiled pulling back from the long hug tucking her against his side, he looked down at her and couldn’t help but smirk slighty seeing her in his jersey, Grey in his jerseys have always been one of his favorite things on her.

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yelena-belovas-gun · 3 months

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Don't You Dare (Maya Lopez)

Summary: One day, when you walk in on Maya interrogating someone, you show a side of yours which even she has never seen before.

Maya Lopez x shapeshifter!female!reader Note: Reader is slightly chubby, but that's not an affecting factor in any way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't walk in on something you don't want to see.

Something both you and Maya had established when you both first started dating. However, as you got more involved in her mafia work, that rule got more and more flimsy by the day.

Especially today.

You were a very gentle person by nature, despite being a shapeshifter. Maya had to admit that everything about you was soft and gentle. From the way you were built to the way you signed, there was a certain amount of care and lightness to the way you existed in general.

Recently, Maya found a traitor in her midst. Whichever now-former Tracksuit was stupid enough to do so was now in front of her, being beaten up by the other members of the crew.

"Stop," she signed, her brow raised. "Let him go."

The man was bruised, bloody, and beaten in to the point where he would've probably died if she hadn't asked the others to stop. She stepped in front of the traitor and signed, "What exactly were you thinking? That you wouldn't get caught?"

Ivan, her new second-in-command, translated for her.

The man's face contorted, giving away that he was frowning. As he spoke, Ivan translated appropriately and a bit hesitantly as the man replied, "This mafia needs a capable leader."

"Capable?" Maya asked, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "Elaborate."

"You can't hear a damn gunshot from right next to you, how will you manage a mafia?" The man asked. "You're running on luck."

Maya was about to smack him in the face, but Ivan signed for her to stop. You were standing at the doorway, with what looked like murder in your eyes.

"Y/n, please, the rule-" Maya signed, looking at you pleadingly, but you stopped her.

"The rule can go fuck itself in the ass," you signed, looking more furious than ever.

Maya's eyes widened at the way you signed so aggressively. It was the exact opposite of how you usually spoke. Your hand movements were always calm and fluid, like a gentle stream which formed the words easy on her eyes. But now your movements were sharp and quick as a blade, and your normally smiling eyes held a glimmer which even she hadn't seen in the last two years of dating you.

You spoke, while Ivan translated. When you moved through the crowd of men, they immediately stepped back, scared for their lives, in all likeliness.

"What did you just say?" You asked the man, glaring at him. Maya stepped back, now intrigued. She found this side of you to be very interesting and a bit turning on, to be honest.

"I said that she can't even hear a gunshot from next to h-" before the man could finish his statement in all its disrespect, you grew sleek claws on your fingers and slashed them down his face, earning a scream of agony.

Maya couldn't hear it, but she could definitely see the volume of it.

"How dare you," you hissed, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him so hard that one of his lose teeth from the prior beating fell to the floor with a soft 'tink'. "How dare you disrespect a woman of authority with such disgusting words?"

"She ain't my boss!" He scoffed, but immediately regretted it when you bared your teeth, having morphed them into the sabre teeth of a lion. It made your gums ache and burn, but it was worth seeing the pain on his face.

"She ain't your damn boss, but she sure as hell's got more personality than you ever will," you hissed. "Apologise to her right now, or I swear to god, you will regret it."

"Never! I don't need to respect some mute woman, she can't even hear what I have to say!" The man protested, lamely. Clearly he wanted to keep the macho façade up, but it was getting harder under each passing second beneath your gaze.

"Fine," you rolled your shoulders, stepping back. "But you won't be able to breathe till I hear you apologise."

In a second, a huge kodiac bear stood where you had once been, and it terrified the man, to be frank. You grabbed him by the neck and tossed him up before slamming him down into the ground with not even a fourth of your newfound strength. However, it was enough to keep him gasping for air and struggling under your paws as you pressed him down harder.

You never used your powers to hurt others. You'd either turn into a cuddly panda to give Maya comfort, or into a chimpanzee to get something from the top shelf. But you never shapeshifted to inflict harm.

You opened your jaws wide and bit down hard on his shoulder, making the bone nearly shatter under your iron bite. He cried out in absolute agony, and screamed out a loud, 'i'm sorry', when you decided to let go of him. You let him breathe again and unhinged your jaws from his shoulder, which now looked beautifully broken and dislocated.

You felt a gentle hand on your arm, which stroked your earthy brown fur affectionately, and you looked down to see Maya smiling up at you. She moved her hand away to speak, "Calm down, my love."

You breathed and shifted form back to a human, but your teeth, as usual, stayed sharp and pointed, and it hurt your mouth a lot. Blood from when you had bitten the man stained your teeth and lips, while your fingers had more blood beneath them.

"He'll give you the answers you want, now," you smiled. As Maya came in to kiss you, you kept her back with a gentle push to her shoulder. "No, kisses right now," you signed, before winking and gesturing at your bloodstained mouth.

To compensate, she pressed a quick and shy kiss to your forehead before you glared at the now whimpering traitor and walked out.

At home, you were exhausted. However large or small your animal would be, you'd always feel deadly tired after shapeshifting. So you were laying on the couch, just scrolling through your phone with the lights dimmed slightly to be comfortable on your sensitive eyes.

You heard the door close, and felt Maya kiss the top of your head.

"You got your answers?" You signed, looking up at her with a smile.

She arched a brow at you, "Are we not going to discuss what happened earlier? The bear thing?"

You felt your ears burn red with a bit of shame as you sheepishly signed, "I lost my cool, I'm so sorry. He disrespected you and I got a bit annoyed..."

She chuckled and signed with a playful twinkle in her eye, "'Annoyed'? You got furious."

"Shut up," you blushed. "It wasn't like me, I'm-"

Before you could sign 'sorry', she grabbed your hands. She wanted you to pause for a moment. She carefully moved her hands away from yours and signed, "It was genuinely the hottest thing I have ever seen you do. And imagine, I have seen you naked."

You blushed a bright red at her words, and signed back, "Maya, what the hell?"

She giggled softly and replied, "I've never seen you lose it before. Why did that happen?"

"Because..." you paused, hands stilled in that one position as you slowly signed out the right-ish words for how you were feeling, "...I care about you. A lot. And it hurts me to see some stupid man disrespecting you when you've worked damn hard to gain the power you have today. It hurts me to see you go through so much every single day, and men like that just...dismissing you because of one thing you lack."

Maya watched you patiently, waiting for you to finish. This was one thing you loved about her; her willingness to listen, even if she couldn't physically do so. She always made sure you knew you had her attention, and would accordingly respond to you.

"I can handle myself," she smiled, "but I appreciate how much you care about me. You looked adorable, by the way."

"I'm sorry, though," you signed, looking down a bit ashamed.

"Don't be," she signed, before gently tilting your head up by putting a hand under your chin. You noticed how close she was to you. You could se every detail of her face, from the way her brows were so perfectly arched, to her deep brown eyes holding every emotion that even words couldn't describe, and to her soft lips, which were now curved into the slightest of amused smiles.

"Aggressive or not, you stood up for me, and I will always appreciate that," she signed, her eyes gleaming a bit with genuineness. "I love you so much, and it warms my heart to see how much you care about me."

You didn't reply as the words from her elegant hands didn't just strike a chord within you. It composed a whole symphony.

You grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a tight hug, tucking your face into her neck as you mumbled. She didn't need to see your hands moving to know what you had to say. You'd whispered those three, four words against her skin enough number of times for her to judge the way your lips moved, and how the vibrations felt against her skin.

"I love you too."

THE END.

#maya lopez x reader #maya lopez #echo x reader #echo #marvel #wlw #deaf representation #alaqua cox #female reader

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fun-mxtx-polls · 2 months

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Baxia vs. E'ming

Baxia propaganda:

I want to have some big, well thought out propaganda piece for Baxia but first of all, the existing propaganda is already excellent. second of all, the only thing in my head is BIG SWORD SEXY which honestly? what more do you need? Baxia is a gorgeous saber in every adaptation! i love her very much, please vote for our evil vanquishing queen who will Not be stopped. (submitted by @valiantbarnes)

Baxia is a huge sword made for cleaving and destroying evil. And if evil isn’t in the immediate vicinity she will find it. She’s angry and out for revenge and comes from a long line of swords that had to be entombed in order to stop them from killing everyone. Baxia has really awesome designs in all versions! (submitted by @absolmon)

Baxia: a sabre of routine! She will cut through literal iron but will sulk for ages if she doesn't get polished every alternate evening. She also treats Hensheng with contempt mixed with pity, much like an older cat to a baby kitten. (submitted by @lilapplesheadcannons)

E'ming propaganda:

I just had to come here and wax poetically about E-Ming. Not only is he a) a deadly scimitar that can and has defeated gods, b) the legendary weapon of the strongest ghost king, and c) made USING that ghost king’s eye, he’s also the goodest boy to have ever existed.

He’s basically a puppy dog in sword form and he just wants love and pets. He’s so expressive and adorable that Xie Lian completely ignore all warnings to avoid him to instead treat him like the puppy he is.

Plus there’s his creation story! (Spoilers for TGCF). Back when Hua Cheng was still a weak ghost on Mount Tonglu, he chose to pretext a group of lost mortals by ripping out his eye and forging E-Ming as a weapon. It was a dangerous and risky choice that could have forever separated Hua Cheng from Xie Lian, but he still did it simply because he cares more about others than he likes to admit. E-Ming represents Hua Cheng’s weakness and humanity and even though Hua Cheng resents him for that, Xie Lian loves him for it all the same.

Therefore E-Ming is a) a badass sword, b) an adorable puppy who deserves love, and c) a physical representation of who Hua Cheng is and how he and Xie Lian perceive him. E-Ming is precious and deserves all the votes (and pets)!

Also he just looks really, really cool too! (submitted by @alittlelessalone)

#mxtx swords tournament #mxtx #tgcf #svsss #mdzs #danmei #danmei polls #hua cheng #nie mingjue #eming #baxia

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nicohischierz · 10 months

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lesson learned: trevor zegras & hughes brothers

when your first season with the sabres finished, you had been approached by the anaheim ducks. trevor had sung your praises to the team and the trainers looked into the work you did with the sabres.

you didn’t have to think much about what choice you were going to make. things had been awkward for you in buffalo and knowing that your brothers were still close and didn’t pay you much attention.

you needed to move.

so you did.

when you were there, the trainer revealed that trevor had told them how much you used to help him during his time in the ntdp and when he was over during the summer.

it was then that the two of you formed a relationship together. trevor provided you with comfort and he always protected you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

but the thing was, you never told your brothers about your relationship. it didn’t matter when you posted seeing as they never asked who you were seeing but the problem arised one night when the devils were in town.

“so z, who’s the mystery girl on your instagram?” jack asked. the ducks were playing the devils in anaheim and the two friends decided to meet for dinner.

you were working with jamie on some light exercises for his shoulder. the ducks had won their game against the devils and you had a home cooked meal planned for your boyfriend and your best friend.

jack was about to get the answer to his question when you opened the door and yelled “hi z, we’re back!”

you didn’t notice your brother sitting across your boyfriend when you walked over and kissed him. jamie did and he tried stopping you but it was too late.

“what the fuck?!” jack exclaimed.

your brother got up from his seat and stalked over to where you and trevor were. “what is going on here?” he asked again, his hands on trevors shirt.

trevor removed jack’s hands from him and looked down at his best friend “this is my girlfriend,” he expalined annunciating each word for jack to hear. the middle hughes brother scoffed.

"why do you care?” you asked quietly. jack had never cared about your past relationships so why did he care so much about this one. but as soon as the question left your mouth you knew the answer.

“it’s because he’s dating me right. you don’t care who i date but you do care who he dates,” you answered. jack didn’t say anything so you just shook your head and headed up to your room.

trevor looked like he was about to punch jack, so jamie stepped in and shoved jack out of the house. their top concern was you.

when jack got back to his hotel room he called his brothers. “she’s dating z,” he started. luke tilted his head to the side and quinn furrowed his eyebrows.

“y/n. she’s dating z,” he explained briefly.

“oh shit really? i mean i knew she was working for the ducks but i didn’t know she was dating z,” quinn rambled.

“what?” jack asked. he didn’t even know you were in california.

“yeah. there was this big post on the nhl account when they announced she was going to be a trainer there. petey and brock showed me, that’s kinda the last time i spoke to her. when did you guys last talk to her?” quinn asked.

both of the younger brothers pulled their phones out and checked their last message to their sister. the time stamp read 2023. it had been three years since they spoke to their own sister.

“we’re horrible brothers,” luke muttered.

whilst the three brothers spent the next two months trying to find a way to repair their relationship, ellen payed a visit to her daughter.

“trevor, i thought you’d want quinn, luke and jack here?” she asked. the two of them were out shopping whilst you were at work and jim took a nap. trevor shrugged.

“i mean last time jack was with us, he kinda blew up at y/n because he didn’t know and i want this to be special,” he answered. elllen turned to the taller boy and gave him a questioning look.

“oh shit. i mean sorry, you weren’t supposed to know,” he whispered.

“you mean, they haven’t spoken to her recently?”

“y/n told me the last time she got a text from quinn was before she moved here and then from the other two was before she moved to buffalo,”

ellen was furious. her sons had promised to reach out to their sister after they forgot to come drop her off at the airport. so as soon as she got home, ellen called her sons and yelled at them.

it was now the end of the season and you were back in michigan after three years. trevor had to do a lot of begging to get you here but it was worth it.

the two of you ended up taking the boat out to watch the sunset. it was a nice night of just the two of you. halfway through, trevor complained of a stomachache and turned the boat back around.

when the two of you docked you turned back to your boyfriend to make sure he was okay. only to find him down on one knee.

“y/n hughes. i know we’ve only been together for two years but we’ve known each other for seven and i’d like to make that forever. so will you make me the happiest duck around and marry me?” he asked.

you were stunned for words, but when you heard a faint shout of ‘say yes’ you nodded. when you turned around you were met with all the people in your life.

your parents, your friends from uni and work, some of trevors ntdp friends and standing in front with tears in their eyes were your brothers.

all three of them.

and just like those days when you were younger you waved at them. but instead of ignoring you they waved back and embraced you in a hug.

all four of you knew it would take time to rebuild your relationship but with the help of your now fiancé it seemed more likely than it would’ve a day ago.

#trevor zegras imagine #hughes sister imagine #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #nicohischierz writes

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anyabathory-blog · 5 months

Text

Between Realms — chapter 1.

Ukraininan ver.(ao3) Word count: 9.8k.

Synopsis: The story takes place before GOW:Ragnarök and covers the events from the point of view of the Aesir. At the whim of Fate, Liv is heading to the City of the Gods. A/N: special thanks to @engardeitsme for reading all over and over again and helping me with the text ♡. I hope you will enjoy it.

Thoughts are marked in italics. Could be swearing, ass kicking and Heimdall. You're warned, yey.✨

The meeting

It had been naive of her to think that the screams in the middle of the rocks could have come from a child. Nobody went to places like that, and they were even less likely to be found. But Liv wouldn't have been able to forgive herself if she hadn't checked. Which, of course, she regretted almost immediately. She hadn't even taken a dozen steps, elbowing her way through the narrow, zigzagging passage, when she fell and landed on her back. Deep enough that she couldn't go back the way she came, but not high enough to break her spine.

The white-green patch in front of her eyes began to form outlines – white light and brown shadow and then gained depth.

The girl was lying in the middle of the cave, listening to the itching in her muscles. Under her back, moss grew like a furry carpet. It smacked with a sigh when Liv sat up, lifting her head up. There was a sudden noise in her temples, a buzzing that blinded her for a moment, but then she blinked it away and was able to look around.

A white beam of light, illuminating the damp ceiling was coming through the hole above, which must have been the passage through which she had fallen earlier. Apart from the moss that hung like a green sheet from the ceiling, the spots of sunlight and the dancing shadows, she was surrounded by silence.

The girl casually began to shake off the dirt and moss pieces when the light played between the uneven walls again. But this time it was accompanied by a damp, champing sound, more like a cuttlefish than a fussy bird that might have flown past the hole from above.

Liv narrowed her eyes, trying to make out something in the patch of light, but all she could see were rays of sunlight darting from one cave tooth to the next, failing to reveal the source of the hideous 'chomp'.

Instantly, her senses stung and she recoiled, startled by the sudden adrenaline rush and the way the gust of air ruffled her hair. She looked down at the spot where she had just been standing and noticed movement in the shadows, which then scurried away with a familiar sniffle.

Liv's calves immediately tensed and she barely squatted. Even though she couldn't see the creature, she could definitely sense the presence of it. The Instinct never let her down. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

Closer.

Closer. The ground next to her foot crumpled slightly, and something invisible started chomping in front of her face. Liv pretended not to notice, staring at the blurred halo of light on the floor as she slowly moved a little lower, reaching for her scabbard on the floor. The sound followed her accordingly.

It was close, revealed only by the breeze on her face and the sound echoing in the air. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

As her fingers caught the ribbed hilt of the sabre, a wave of goosebumps ran down her spine – the familiar tension in her body. Liv felt like a taut arrow, waiting for the moment to strike.

"What are you waiting for, Liv?" Logain's voice was quiet, hissing between the walls, seeming both near and far away, "Go on, pull out your weapon. Do what you know how to do, what you've always done. Kill again. Kill me.”

The girl twitched. Her face twitched too. But she didn't speak. Logain had been feeding the worms in the ground for a long time.

Chomp, chomp, chomp. Something wet slid down her boot, and his voice grew louder.

"Why hesitate? Have you forgotten Mercia? Have you forgotten Vesex?" The air around her face stirred again as something that felt like a wet rope began to squeeze her ankle. Chomp, chomp.

“So much dirt and meat in the armour that the sky was black with crows and the stench squeezed out the tears, remember? Do you remember how I begged you to stay out?”

She smiled slightly out of the corner of her mouth, but the tension in her body did not ease. Logain's voice grew louder, filling her head, and squeezing the skull. She could almost imagine him moving his wrist to the side, making an imaginary six, and pressing his thin lips together in an overly dramatic way, lecturing her. He loved to lecture, although he was younger. Lagain had made mistakes in his life that it was a sin not to embellish with eloquent details, telling them over a mug of mead that had barely fermented in the flask. Fermented, but still tasted better than anything.

Liv closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories flood back into her mind as the creature kept speaking in a familiar voice.

The flames flicker, the smell of pine and ash blows away all anxiety. Here is Logain baring his teeth, white as 32 pearls, shamelessly exaggerating his achievements, here is Eilbe smiling shyly as he taps her on the shoulder. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

"Doesn't matter, now it doesn't matter..."

The girl sighed, no longer listening. It seemed to start listing names. Names, titles, their roles in her life, how they had left, how she had made sure they left before they perished.

The list went on. Chomp, chomp.

"Now."

Liv slashed from the elbow and with a whistle her sabre flew out like a bottle cork into the blurred space in front of the girl's face.

A shuddering screech ripped through the cave, finally ending the pretentious 'Logain' monologue. The blade sliced softly through the air and snapped as Liv twisted the handle, plunging it deeper. The point seemed to disappear into nowhere, but was still piercing an invisible belly.

The shapeless fetters began to wrap around the girl's waist, squeezing her in a vain attempt to throw her off, but she ignored the creature's scream and hovered steadfastly above it. As the sabre sliced into space, disappearing almost to the level of the crossguard, another sound joined the shriek, which vibrated in a dozen different tones (the creature was still trying to mimic a voice). It was the sound of soft muscles tearing. This was followed by a characteristic stench with a metallic flavour – of blood.

But the blurry blob of air in front of her was not going to give up without a fight. The creature, still screaming, pulled her forward, and she swore when she felt her boot slip on the moss. Liv pressed harder, hoping to pin the shapeless creature to the ground. She miscalculated.

For a moment, the world blurred back into a white and green stain, accompanied by a cacophony of different voices, but eventually, she found herself on her back. The moss crunched softly under her spine.

"Blood! Blood!" The creature, as torning between Logain's voice and an almost childlike falsetto, pinned the girl down harder. "So much blood! It's no use! Do you hear..." Liv struggled, blindly trying to kick the invisible creature so that it would finally shut its mouth, but she missed - it only roared louder, not relenting. Plasma began to drip into her face in thick threads of green mucus, mixing with moss and dirt.

The girl, clutching the handle with stiff fingers, kicked again, this time at the point where the mucus was coming from. She seemed to hit it - the weight above her barely shifted.

The air instantly shook with an inhuman screech, and then there was silence. Silence.

Liv froze and blinked uneasily, looking at what was pinning her down. She could see it now. Her sabre was hilted into a glassy eye that was still trying to convulsively close its heavy eyelids, and orange insides were stretching out in ribbons down to her torso. Slowly unclenching her fingers, Liv shook her shoulder and then again, carefully pushing the motionless nightmare away from her.

"Beastliness, shit, and filth" swearing softly in a couple more languages, Liv shrugged one last time and sat up, looking disgustedly at the creature and then at her clothes, which were stained with green mucus now.

Slowly standing up, she kicked at the rounded belly with its unmoving tentacles. It stirred but did not move or cry out. It was dead. It was quiet.

Nightmares were usual beasts in her travels, but what never stopped to amaze her was the number of varieties. Some could blind her, others spat ice, some spat flames, and some only got closer and exploded for no known reason. But the fact that this creature could turn invisible was a first for her. "They must adapt differently to each realm," Liv mentally summarised, kicking the eye-shaped monstrosity as her sabre unyieldingly twitched between the entrails and chitinized plates of the creature.

As she struggled with the blade, her face was gently touched by the soft breezes swaying through the cave's walls. Separating the weapon away from the body with a kick, Liv turned around and stood to listen.

After taking a few steps, she heard the wind whistle stronger, seeping through the cracks of the cave, as something crunched dryly under her boot. Looking down she noticed bones. The skull, the back of which was cracked open like an eggshell, was small, childlike.

***

Eventually the wind carried her out of the cave and onto the flat, sun-drenched surface. Hrimthur's Wall, the famous Asgardian wall wrapped in a collar of mist, rose up for who knew how many metres and fell down for just as many. Liv's fingers itched at the thought of how much further she had to climb. Not without disgust, she wiped the green mucus from the blade with the edge of her shirt and sighed.

The girl spent the next hour alone with her thoughts, which accompanied her all the way up the wall, along with the scraping of stones under her fingernails, the whistling of the wind, and the clinking of the sheath against her belt. She kept her eyes level with the basalt surface, not wanting to look down, sometimes throwing her head up and grabbing onto ledges, sometimes diving into crevices between grotesquely huge nails that had been embedded in the rock, sometimes pressing her body against the Wall as startled birds flew out of their nests. Once she almost slipped on a rotten apple that someone must have dropped from above(who does that?). When she reached the top, she was covered in dust and sweat.

The Wall clawed into the ground, holding a crescent-shaped lake of buildings and roads that lay beneath the clouds. Asgard had isolated itself not only from uninvited guests, but also from the permanent frost that had frozen Midgard in a deadly grip for so many years. The City of the Gods was lulled into an eternal summer, safe from worry behind high walls. But the Wall of Hrimthur was never left unguarded.

Something had pushed the girl between her shoulder blades. In a moment, the ground slipped away from under her feet, and the green valley opened its mouth wider, looking less picturesque and even lower than she had imagined. Liv gasped for air as her stomach twisted into a knot and squinted, already vividly imagining her fall. However, other than the pounding of her heart and the soft shuffling of the ground beneath her, she heard no wind whistling or bones crunching. Her feet still felt the unsteady ground, and the fabric of her shirt cut into her skin as someone behind her, holding her by the shirt's collar, sighed with pretentious exhaustion.

Liv didn't hurry to look back, seeing the toes of her boots peeking over the edge of the Wall, but she did catch a glimpse of another pair of feet.

"Well, let's skip the greetings part and save each other’s time, shall we?" The voice was male and young, but despite its hostility, it sounded somewhat ingratiating. Meanwhile, his grip on her collar tightened defiantly, bordering on strangulation. "So, who are you, what do you want, and, most importantly, how did you get here?" Even without seeing the face of the interlocutor, though rather the extortionist, she could feel the mocking smile in his voice. "Although, never mind. How about you only answer the very last question before I let go of you."

Liv made a careful movement to the side, trying to straighten up, but a voice behind her hissed softly.

"I don't recommend it." And then the weightlessness hit her again for a moment. The collar of her shirt was pulled down just below her chin "And I won't repeat myself."

Her breathing quickened, and an animalistic fear prevented her from thinking coldly and composedly, so she chose sincerity. Sincerity is a minority virtue, but it is surprisingly appropriate in most cases when you are promised to fly down.

"I want to help."

There was a pause, though it was not an empty one, full of tension and Liv's futile attempts to catch her breath. This pause was also surprisingly short, as it was interrupted by the quiet laughter of the man behind her.

"Help?" the stranger burst into another laugh. "You're barely able to help yourself, vagrant. So who do you want to help again?”

"Odin, the gods, mortals," the girl pursed her lips, barely inhaling the air, "myself.”

"Oh, I believe in the latter willingly, in the former barely, and in the first two, I don't believe at all. But okay. That's more honest than usual." The air licked Liv's cheek before she hit the ground with her back. Almost instantly, she scrambled to her feet and straightened up. Straightened up as best she could after the climb and the undeniably warm greeting.

The stranger's shimmering eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. Something told her he didn't like being shorter than her. So the two purple lights stared with a mute question, stared with a certain insolence, as Liv caught her breath, wheezing sounds escaping her throat.

"I don't recall your name on the guest list, vagrant." The man, or rather more a blond lad, looked at her with his shoulders squared.

He was in a good mood for an ordinary guard, too good even, and better dressed than any guard Liv had ever seen. His entire appearance betrayed a nobleman proud of his ancestry, from the golden cuff on his ear to the tips of his boots. This curved her lips into a faint half-smile.

But the stranger did not comment – he was probably waiting for an answer, the question of who she was hanging in the air. Taking a breath, Liv finally decided to answer:

"Of course, of course," she said, sucking in another breath, but her voice sounded a little strangled, "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter, nice to meet you." her mouth corner twitched ironically to the last part, but soon her face regained its calm expression.

The stranger nodded, letting out a small laugh, and it was hard to tell what he found more amusing – her name or the fact that she pretended not to know who he was. The horn on his gold-embroidered belt jiggled slightly as the god put his hands at his sides and spoke:

"My name is Heimdall," he paused, and before continuing, he pursed his lips in an unnatural smile "I am the Herald of Ragnarök and the Guardian of the Aesir. Now, Liv, please give me at least one reason not to throw you off the Wall."

"The gods are very friendly people, I see," she thought ironically. Surprisingly, right after that, Heimdall cackled with a familiar laugh.

"I think," as she began, something predatory glinting in those strange eyes, "that you already know the answer to that, lord Heimdall.”

Politeness is another virtue peculiar to the minority, but surprisingly appropriate when you are facing a god from whom you expect anything but pleasantness.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled, no longer hiding his golden teeth, as it turned out. It was a shitty smile, the kind that usually makes people lose their heads. Literally.

"Clever girl. What good would you be to the Allfather, the King of the Aesir? I think the Allfather has enough warriors already," his tone grew more and more unpleasant with each word, and for a moment Liv thought a bruise under his white cheekbone would have suited him well, "I doubt a frail lassie like you, vagrant Liv, would be more useful than any einherjar."

Her fingers ran lightly over the hilt of the sabre, scratching the top with her fingernail almost tenderly. The metal cooled her hand and mind soothingly. Heimdall reminded her exactly of the type of person with whom every verbal battle ends with a face in a bowl: a stew of your own blood and teeth.

"Perceptive." Liv licked her lips as her blood pulsed in her temples. "I'm from Skadi*," she said, unexpectedly, mockery evident in her voice, "I think that's enough for Odin himself to accept even a 'frail lassie' like me."

Unfortunately, of all the virtues, Liv lacked politeness the most. As well as patience.

"Skadi..." Heimdall tilted his head to the side as if he had heard the name for the first time, "Jotun, the traitor to two nations at once: her own and mine... No, no." He paused and made a careless gesture with his hand. The purple gaze measured her for a moment before the god continued, "No. You are here only for yourself.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Liv tucked her chin up, looking down at the young god.

"What a fascinating story, really. A little more guesswork about me, pompous speeches and introductions or–"

It swirled. Before she could say anything else, she fell to her knees. Her stomach twisted and she was paralyzed with throbbing pain from a hit, but she quickly recovered. A familiar impulse hit her brain, dulling the pain and fatigue, leaving only one thing behind – the desire to hurt back. Liv threw her head up, waiting for him to approach.

"Once again" He snorted through his teeth as he sat down on his toes as well. God's tone smoothly turned into an irritatingly flattering one. "Why should I allow someone like you to come into my home and meet with the Allfather?" Liv's upper lip quivered irritably as she felt a touch on her head. "Then, for example, to string your red haired head on a stick? Perhaps then this endless stream of uninvited guests will end, since the enormous Wall in front of their noses is not enough, huh?"

He had the nerve to pat her on the head in a fatherly, no, rather mistressly way, as if Liv were some kind of naughty puppy. It was annoying, drowning out the last echo of reason. Liv didn't feel pain anymore and there was an evil glint in her eyes.

Suddenly, Heimdall giggled gutturally, looking her in the eye with his purple lights. That was the last straw. With a short snarl, Liv lunged forward, intent on slamming her forehead into the smug face, but the attempt failed and her knees skidded on the stone as she lost her balance again. He was already standing away.

"Did you really want to hit me?" Heimdall said cheerfully, with an expression as if he had just heard a very funny joke.

"Yes, a bruise would make your pale face more attractive," Liv snapped, finally raising to her feet.

The way the young god's face contorted made her smile wickedly. But her pleasure did not last long, for he came toward her, quickly. Very quickly, even the sound of his footsteps seemed to come with a delay as his face was close again. But Liv still managed to free her sword from its silver-embroidered scabbard.

"Whoa, the lassie can fight," he said with a hoot as he saw the blade pointing at his impudent face, "Careful, don't cut yourself..."

Sparks sliced through the air between them, the enchanted metal of her sabre glowing white in an instant. Heimdall suppressed his surprise and easily dodged the lunge, but the subtle surprise that slipped into his eyes made Liv want to thank Skadi for the sword for the first time.

She tried to grab his collar, but before she could, the god stepped back again and unhooked the scabbard from his belt. The air seemed to become liquid as he moved, sounds disappearing for that brief moment as the step backwards became two feet, then four, then ten.

"How is he doing that?" Liv's eyebrow shot up for a moment as he voiced the same thought that had just flashed through her brain. Heimdall giggled again and made a gesture with his hand, causing the air to ripple again like an agitated sea, distorting space. “Showing off.”

A moment and he was closer again. Closer than she expected, closer than she could see. However, it was enough for her to feel it, her Instinct, prickling her fingertips, ordered her to move away. A deep breath, a half-turn, a step, a parry, and an exhale – this dance was as clear as the last time, as years ago, as centuries before. The young god didn't even bother to pull out his sword, apparently expecting to punch her between the eyes with the golden tip of the scabbard, but it met her sabre with a loud clang. The lilac eyes looked at her now with anger as she drew back, kicking up dust, but she stood her ground.

The sound of metal hitting metal still echoed in the air as the two stared each other in the face, a pair of purple eyes and yellow-like sulphur ones. The longer Liv held back the pressure, the heavier the sword became in her hands, its silver blade sparkling with runes (perhaps that was the only reason it hadn't shattered like glass) was still trembling in her hands. Heimdall smiled and nudged her again, breaking the contact between the weapons.

"Very well, maybe you deserve to have me draw my sword..." Stretching his shoulder, the young god threw the scabbard aside. The black metal glistened in the sun with a bloodthirsty growl. Even the engraving on the ricasso had some gilding.

"Vain asshole." Liv's upper lip twitched irritably again, and the scar on it stabbed treacherously. With every word he said, she was getting angrier and angrier, losing control, which was not good. She was on her own in this situation, in the thick of it, and if Heimdall hadn't attacked first, she would have been out of here by now, but damn life had other plans for her. It always does.

"Oh, come up with something more interesting," Heimdall sighed theatrically, making an inviting gesture for her to strike. At least to try.

"Shut up."

She spat out those words, until the sword sparkled more strongly, resembling a torch rather than a blade. The "invitation" was accepted with all the passion she could muster – in two leaps she closed the distance between them and brought the blow down from above, drawing a figure eight in the air. The sabre whistled, stretching the empty space, while a kick flew into her back. Liv staggered forward on inertia, barely keeping her balance. Glancing over the edge of Hrimtur's wall for a moment, she swallowed, looking down into the gaping maw of the valley that descended through the fog. "High. Damn high."

But the Instinct stung her again, returning her mind to a state of battle and the adrenaline surged through her muscles. Liv managed to fight back with a half-turn, sinking her blade into the black metal, but felt her feet wobbling unsteadily at the edge of the wall.

These pirouettes, trying to catch the god who was slipping through her fingers like sand, were beginning to tire her out, and he could see it. Moreover, it amused him.

Heimdall was stronger, much stronger, and he could push her back again without breaking a sweat, so, cursing foully, she darted to the side, trying to get behind him and away from the edge as far as possible. The young god, of course, expected her move and counterattacked, pushing Liv aside. The blade slipped and her arm burned treacherously, aching from elbow to shoulder, as she stepped back again without making a single cut. With a jerk, the sabre drew a crescent in the air, aiming for Heimdall's wrist.

“Mmmm. No” he swung to the side, avoiding the blow again. Boredom crept into his gaze. "You've had enough of my attention for today.”

With a sigh, the god straightened up and stepped closer, without any haste or hesitation when the blade was pointed directly at his chest. Diving behind Liv's back, he yanked her by the shirt's collar, dragging the girl again like a naughty puppy. She squirmed, grabbed his leg, twisted, arched, and pushed her body forward to knock him to the ground. If Liv was happy about anything right now, it was that no one else saw how idiotic it looked. Before she could make out his expression, something quickly slipped past her eyes, and the world around her instantly turned white. It was the scabbard that finally cracked her on the forehead. “Oh, shit”.

“Bye-bye...“ Before she fainted, Liv saw the god lean down and flash his golden teeth. His voice echoed through her brain, mingling with the croaking of a raven, turning into one hideous ringing in her ears.

Then the abyss covered her, sucking in all sensations and sounds. The fatigue became unbearable.

***

When she woke up, Liv lay there for a while with her eyes closed and her muscles spreading over the surface. The place where she had been hit burned too much for a dead person, and the space around her was too soft and dry for a prisoner. So. She was alive and not in a prison. That was good.

For a moment, she was tempted to try to sleep, because the fatigue was still with her, if not for the creaking of the floorboards and the scuffling of what seemed to be a chair on the floor.

Lazily, the girl opened her eyes, tilting her head to the side. There was a pillow under her. It seemed to be taffeta. It was too refined for someone who had been slapped between the eyes, too good for a stranger. Liv squinted as the sleepy veil fell from her eyes, and then she could see where she was. And more importantly, with whom?

The stone walls were decorated with tapestries and weaponry, and the furniture was made by good craftsmen – a striking difference from the last time someone had managed to make her faint. Only back then it had not been so easy. And back then she had been lying in a room with no windows.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she noticed a familiar face in the shadow. Her bruised forehead throbbed even more when her gaze crossed with a purple one.

But besides Heimdall, there was another man here. He was sitting next to the bed, his elbows relaxed on the handles of the faldstool. He was an old man, carrying neither a sword nor armour, only a stick, a green hood framing his wrinkled neck, hiding a celestial-blue caftan with a golden thread underneath. He looked more friendly than Heimdall, but his blue eyes, or rather one single eye, looked at Liv with a cold, sharp insight that made it chilly. His gaze was not clouded by the weight of his years or by marasmus. His right eye socket was covered with a leather eyepatch. As the girl recovered, she sat up, and looked at the man, who was obviously Odin. He coughed and spoke:

"Good morning," his voice was quiet and hoarse, with notes of dry humour. They only intensified when the girl glanced up at the inlaid window, checking how long her "sleep" had lasted. It was late afternoon... "So. Young lady, how do you know Skadi and why were you so eager to see me that you got into a fight with my guard?"

Liv cleared her throat and shook her head slightly, still reeling from the pain, and met a familiar pair of eyes. Heimdall, leaning back against the stone wall, stared at her silently, waiting for an explanation. The purple lights flickered even more strongly in the shadows. She grimaced slightly and turned her head to Odin. "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter, Allfather. And Skadi she is..." She winced as her voice echoed through the walls of her skull, but massaging between her eyebrows, she continued, "She is my mother."

There was a pause during which Liv could see Heimdall's face go blank, for he never seemed to be at a loss for words, but now he was without comment. The old man, meanwhile, ran his finger over the carvings of the chair and answered with much more enthusiasm in his voice:

"So, she managed to keep you."

"She did?"

"Yes, yes, don't fidget, I'll do better" his fingers once again scratched the carving before resting on her forehead. This small touch enveloped her in a warmth that spread throughout her body, and in another moment, she would have probably fallen into his arms. The pain was gone.

"Thank you, I really feel better."

"You're welcome," he nodded slightly and removed his hand from her face. "To tell you the truth, I was waiting for you to show up."

"And that's why I was hit in the stomach in the first place?

"Heimdall," Odin said coldly, not even giving his son a glance, it was a short order.

The lad sighed, snorting like a cat in the dust, and stepped back from the wall. After that, he spoke dryly, without an ounce of conscience or remorse, of course:

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, that was all he could think to say after he'd hit Liv (not even just once). It was just funny, so she laughed. Shortly and cheekily. The young god twitched his eyebrows and pursed his lips, but said nothing, although she could see that there was plenty of what he wanted to let out. Perhaps even too much of it, but the presence of the Allfather made him hold back a bit, it seems.

Odin just shook his head.

"You are forgiven, prince," she sighed and turned her head to Odin, saying the last word through her teeth. Meanwhile, Heimdall's face was a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"Sjá hvat**..." The old man's lips curled in a half-smile and then he stood up, slapping his knees lightly "Well, then. Now that we have settled all the issues, it is time, Liv Skadisdatter, for you to meet the rest of your family."

Now Liv shared Heimdall's embarrassment, and their eyes were the size of Sceat coins.

"What?"

***

Liv looked into the abyss.

As she plunged into the white mist, the wooden platform under her feet shook, momentarily throwing her off balance. Stepping back from the edge, she glanced over the city that lay below them: along the grey roads that snaked between buildings, flowing down the moat, passing carved gates and coming together in a semicircle before the square where black specks of people bustled about their business; she was looking at the ribbons of canals and mill ponds, that wove around the city as veins, the fluffy clouds that rose above the sharp roofs, and the valkyries that flapped their huge wings like golden birds as they flew past the ropeway. The longer they descended, the more Asgard resembled a green lake in the palm of a rocky giant whose wrist replaced the sharp slope on one side of the half-walled city. Liv huffed at the ironic association, remembering the Aesir people's intense dislike of giants, and turned her gaze to a pair of boots with intricate patterns on the tanned leather. Heimdall had kept his eyes on her since they left Himinbjörg***, and the girl had been trying to pretend that he, the young god, did not exist. So, swaying slightly to the right again because of the unpleasant feeling of weightlessness in her legs, she turned her gaze to the Allfather.

From the side, he looked like a vulture searching for a field mouse, contemplating Asgard with his blue eye. His hooked nose, like a beak, twitched slightly with a smile as he noticed Liv watching. Something about that little emotion was uncomfortably familiar, but she didn't know what it was. Yet.

After a moment, Odin met her eyes, with the same slightly smiling expression. Now the "vulture" was looking at Liv. However, she did not shrink back, looking down, but straightened up, put her hands on her waist, and slightly clasped her sides. "It's all too simple. There are too few details."

"What did you mean by saying Skadi 'managed to keep' me?" she said on an exhale. No, that wasn't what she wanted to ask, but her curiosity overcame her. Liv had never been close to her famous mother, but also she did not believe she would ever have the opportunity to ask again.

The old man chuckled. Laughter, that's what she didn't like. It was the same as Heimdall's, only this one sounded sincere. Odin, meanwhile, leaned on a carved stick, looking at Liv with a piercing gaze.

"Oh, you know how it is, a scandal, a couple dozen broken plates and faces..." the god hummed, still smiling and seeing that Liv did not share his humour, "You were not supposed to happen. Njord and, frankly, me too, insisted that Skadi get rid of you."

The girl tilted her head slightly to the side and nodded silently, hinting for him to continue. The Allfather sighed, and the stick, or something in it, hissed quietly.

"She obviously didn't," he slapped his stomach lightly, "She walked around with her belly protruding as if to mock everyone. Until she disappeared, so that none of my ravens or her husband could find her, and when she came back, she pretended nothing had happened."

"Of course she did. She just got rid of a burden and then 'suddenly' remembered her responsibilities as a goddess."

"So that's how it is... My mother is not only a traitor to the nations but also unfaithful in her marriage and full of arrogance that even touches the gods." Liv slightly curled her lips in an ironic smile. She heard nothing new in this. Almost. "However, you haven't answered my question, lord, and you still haven't explained why you're letting me into your home so easily."

Liv could see out of the corner of her eye that Heimdall was shifting impatiently from foot to foot, apparently wanting to add something of his own, but he remained silent. She couldn't help but glare at him, although she quickly turned her head back to Odin, who was still smiling.

"Women are so inquisitive..."

"Yes, I am a woman, but please don't take me for an idiot," the girl crossed her arms over her chest, "The raven on the standard. It was you, wasn't it? Otherwise, I wouldn't have been allowed to cross the threshold, let alone be ‘gallantly’ stabbed between the eyes with a scabbard. You were watching…”

Suddenly, the platform stopped, and Liv swayed slightly on the inertia and whispered a curse under her breath. But in the meantime, the weightlessness in her legs had passed, flowing down her feet into the solid ground, so she breathed out a sigh of relief. Odin stepped forward without delay, leaving Liv to contemplate Heimdall's frown for a moment. The girl was not too impressed by this sight and instead looked around.

On the sides were green fields fenced with thin levadas, where distant figures could be seen, some still digging in the ground, and others with sticks chasing chickens, geese, turkeys, and horned stock – all this action crowded in front of the carved gate that led into the city. Light shone in the cracks of the houses, their sharp roofs peeking out beyond the wall, and the long shadows of the Hrimthur's wall were cut by the slowly setting orange sun. Liv could hardly deny that the evening in Asgard, even if she hadn't yet stepped outside the walls, was somewhat mesmerising, and the lights outside the gates were at least alluring. But she still had questions. A whole lot of questions.

Meanwhile, Heimdall tore his glittering eyes away from her and followed the Allfather, who was already waiting for them at the closed gate. Liv shrugged with her shoulder and in a couple of steps passed the distance separating her from Odin and his son. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a golden-green blur, steadily growing larger, jumping through the levadas and pushing people around. Soon enough, the "spot" took shape and a name.

"Gulltoppr!" At first, Liv did not realise that it was Heimdall's sonorous voice, but her attention quickly shifted to the snow-white grappling gradungr, which had passed the wooden fence in two quick leaps and, kicking up a cloud of dust, began to caress its owner's arm like a normal cat. A cat the size of a barn and with a head framed by a pair of curved horns. The girl had heard of gradungs before, but this was the first time she had seen this creature in person.

A dwarf shopkeeper she knew had once told her about these creatures, that they lived mainly in Vanaheim and, according to his description, had four horns, not two, and three heads – a lion's, a goat's, and a dragon's. But she could not remember which one he thought was "the thinkin’ ass one". Liv had been sceptical of such a colourful description even then, but now she saw with her own eyes that the words were a clear exaggeration from the mouth of a drunk. Also, the dwarf had been telling her about the time he was in a gang with six other dwarves and a lady with white skin like bone and lips the colour of hawthorn, but Liv hadn't been listening any further. By that point, she had seemed to be drunk too.

But she still found the proportions of the so-called Gulltoppr most amusing, and even more so their relation to Heimdall. For someone who showed so much audacity, the god was undersized, and compared to his riding "kitten" he seemed tiny and clumsy.

As soon as the thought crossed Liv's mind, she felt a purple gaze slide over the young god's shoulder and bore into her forehead. The white gradungr also turned its triangular head and shook its horns like a goat that was about to charge. For a moment, the girl really thought it was going to do so, so her calves tensed slightly. But she was wrong.

The animal quickly went back to nuzzling at the god's side, puffing loudly with its big velvet nose, while Heimdall pulled the gold-embroidered reins from the saddle's bow.

"No, you will walk, Heimdall." Odin, standing at the gate, tapped his stick lightly. Something metallic hissed in it again. "It must be a blade."

The young god whispered softly, Liv did not know what, and lightly patted Gulltoppr on the side, pushing him away. The "cat" responded with a dissatisfied grunt and flicked its pink tongue against Heimdall's cheek (the god jerked at this), but pulled away.

Liv let out a small laugh through her nostrils and shook her head, deliberately looking past Heimdall and his mount as if fascinated by a clay jug that stood alone on a wooden levada. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she was still looking at the gradungr and his yellow and white fur, which he was licking diligently, cat-like.

Odin spoke first:

"Yes, I have been watching you, and yes, I have been waiting for you, Skadisdatter. But I do not take you for an idiot or a fool. At most, I think you're lost and that I can show you the Way."

Liv crossed her arms over her chest.

"The way?" Liv arched an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter. Not Skadisdatter, please."

The Allfather smiled slightly out of the corner of his eye, which was wrapped by wrinkles like a spider's web.

"Yes. But a mortal named Roland is insignificant and uninteresting, unlike your mother."

"So is it all a matter of blood? Or is it simply the Asgardian benevolence?"

"Partly both."

"Then please don't pretend that you're doing me a favour, that you need me for some reason and therefore have the right to ask questions, lord."

"Hmm. Right. The only difference is that we both need each other, Skadisdatter," the gate slowly opened in front of them, its metal hinges groaning, "and I am still doing you a favour by letting you into my kingdom."

Asgard was flooded with evening light, which reddened and glistened on the sharp roofs, the purple shadows gave the city a certain charm. All cities looked charming at this time, despite the number of vermin and rats that might inhabit them, but Asgard was obviously different. And it wasn't even that it was a city of gods, heroes, and generally those whose bright faces and shining armour the skalds were so fond of singing about – Asgard was clean. As Liv walked down the street, she didn't see a single puddle or piece of trash, which is so common in large settlements, especially those surrounded by walls. Even the Anglo-Saxons, who were so fond of accusing the Danes of being untidy, could have envied the absence of mud and sewage stains. Although, perhaps, they would have been most upset by the fact that the theory of the "All-Powerful One God" turned out to be false.

But like all cities at this time, Asgard was falling asleep, and the closer the evening shadows approached the cobblestone streets, the more lethargic its inhabitants became. People in brightly coloured clothes embroidered with golden thread (apparently the Aesir were very fond of this material), slowly walked the streets, tired from the early rising, the lunch and dinner fuss and ready for evening rest, but all of them were certainly interested in one person. The person who obviously does not belong here is Liv. Some tried to tactfully hide their interest, glancing as if in passing, some suddenly looked around like a goat that had mistakenly bumped into a fortress wall with its horns, some leaned over the balcony, excessively straightening the laundry that was hanging down, some even seemed to have choked on the contents of a mug. The more gawking Asgardians Liv counted, the more she was convinced of her guess - guests were at least rare, at most a curiosity. Especially in such high-profile company as the Allfather and Heimdall.

However, Liv was cold to the extra attention, and in fact, she was somewhat annoyed by it, which would make it harder for her to escape if the opportunity came up.

"She would have loved and hated this city, like so many other things," she thought. Liv hummed, lightly twirling her braid with a black strand woven into it as they walked down the street under the watchful eye of the locals: Odin tapping his heels and wooden stick on the cobblestones, the girl following him, stealing glances and reading the golden lettering on the bracketed signs, Heimdall was the last to go, but she could hear him steadily following her step by step.

The last time someone had kept up with Liv's pace like that, this someone had tried to steal the pouch that was attached to her scabbard belt, so almost instinctively she smoothed the strap with the edge of her hand, but she never found the small goatskin pouch. Liv whispered a curse, figuring that she'd lost it before they'd even reached the city and that it must have been left lying on the Wall somewhere.

"Damn it to Hell. There's no going back now." she thought, and when she heard a soft laugh under a breath, looked around. Ignoring Heimdall was harder than she had expected.

“So you can really read minds?" She let out, again, asking questions that hardly made sense, but to think that even her thoughts were not completely hers now was at least uncomfortable, at most disgustingly disturbing.

"So you really are Skadi's daughter?" Heimdall answered quietly, but that didn't lessen the irony in his voice. It seemed that Odin, who had been cutting through the street with a surprisingly brisk pace, accompanied by the tapping of his stick and the hissing of the blade hidden in it, had distanced himself from them enough for the young god to regain his talkativeness and insolence.

However, she was interested.

"Yes, hers." She twisted a smile that made the scar on her upper lip prickle again, "Do you think the Allfather would lie?

"I think you would lie if you had to."

“How apt," Liv agreed with feigned ease, "but you, the 'god of foresight', seem to be able to sense lies, so your question is meaningless.”

Heimdall huffed, still only a step behind her.

"Then it seems you're wasting your time asking me, too, when you know I can 'sense a lie'.”

“I know this only from the stories of mortals, and they are known to exaggerate the virtues of others and their own.”

“What else have mortals told you about us? I'm very curious to hear.”

“They also told me that you are wise and terse, Heimdall.”

His pace seems to have slowed slightly.

"How quickly we moved on to exchanging compliments," the god sighed theatrically, "I'm impressed, truly. And then you wonder why you get hit in the forehead.”

“What I'm not surprised about is that every conversation with you ends in this way, annoyingly often, if not always.”

“Something tells me you're speaking from a rich experience.”

Liv flinched when she heard the voice a little closer than she had expected and thought of pushing Heimdall away while turning, but her hand only touched the air when the god had already moved away. For a few moments, she stood in the middle of the square, silently measuring the Aesir with her eyes, trying to understand how he did it.

Involuntarily, Liv smoothed the coloured shawl around her waist again, that was hiding a part of her belt and often her leather purse, but her palm gently passed over her thigh, never coming across the mound of coins. It was such an involuntary movement that she didn't realise at first what it looked like from the side when she was staring the god straight in the eye. Her face barely seemed to flush as Heimdall gave her perhaps the most arrogant smile he could muster. She was wrong.

A moment later, his lips curled even more as he moved his shoulder slightly, bringing his right hand behind his back. Liv clutched the hilt of her sabre, waiting, but the god seemed to hold out his palm to her without noticing. And something in it, too.

"I don't need to read minds to know who you are, Skadisdatter" he flashed his teeth and gave his wrist a slight flick, drawing the girl's attention to the leather pouch in his hand.

"I think this is yours. Take it before I change my mind because your fidgeting is getting on my nerves."

Liv nodded slowly in gratitude and took the pouch in her hand, her fingers lightly touching the rough palm. She pressed her lips together, shook her head and said something like "thank you" as she exhaled, but the god was no longer listening. He walked on, joining Odin, who was leaning on a stick, waiting for them in front of a house with a sloping roof. It differed from the other buildings only in its more elaborate carvings and its location on a steep slope, the only part of the city not surrounded by a high wall and still bathed in the setting sun, its red disc now barely peeking over the wall.

Her fingers seemed to feel the distinctive obverse and her fingernail pecked at the sharp edge of the coin, so she fastened the pouch to her belt under her shawl and followed. As soon as she stepped closer, her foot slammed into a puddle with a cold smack. "No mud, eh?" Or perhaps she didn't want to notice it at first, as often happens. "Even a puddle that glistens with gold, reflecting the sky, is still a puddle."

Liv slid her muddy boot on the cobblestones and levelled herself with the Allfather and Heimdall. Odin almost solemnly, somewhat theatrically, it seems to run in the family to be somewhat theatrical, spreaded his arms:

"Welcome to the Great Lodge, Skadisdatter."

***

The room smelled of dust. Many tomes and scrolls, yellowed and worn, were crammed together in batteries on the shelves, some were leaning against the carved columns, green with old copper on their rods, among the candles with long strands of wax extending from them. Some tomes, which must have been worth a fortune, were scattered haphazardly or sometimes stacked in pyramids according to size and covered with cobweb patterns - the names of only a few of them were known to Liv, and even fewer were written in languages she was familiar with. The cabinet was not lacking in other curiosities, however, such as a wind chime from faraway Asia, a large Persian amphora made of green earthenware and covered with small runes whose meaning could only be guessed at, or a silk standard with a unicorn and a naked woman sitting on it, which Liv assumed had been woven somewhere in Northumbria. There was no shortage of weapons, as there had been in Himinbjörg, but they were given much less space and therefore less attention, although the An Creite shield with its white and red colours caught Liv's eye immediately. She wanted to pick it up, to trace her finger around the splinters at the centre, which could have been struck by a buzdugan, but despite herself, she did not. She quickly turned her gaze to Odin, who had already sat down in a high chair with carved arms. He caught her eye and tilted his head to the side:

“Do you like it?”

Liv moved her shoulder, feigning indifference, but they both knew it was a lie. Heimdall, who leaned back against the wall again, seemingly finding some comfort in the shadows, just huffed. "So just stand there and pretend you're part of the interior."

"An impressive collection." the girl nodded, but her eyes darted around again, taking in the new relics that had been collected from all nine realms, "To put it modestly."

The Allfather answered with a short laugh, leaning against the surface of the oak table, which was also covered with books.

Eventually, she came over and crouched down beside the white and red shield. Liv could feel Heimdall's cold, weighing gaze, which slightly curled his lips, and Odin's somewhat sharp one, which remained unchanged in his facial expression, while she kept talking.

"Every time you see one of these, you involuntarily start thinking about the former owners." Her finger touched the cracks in the shield, immediately getting smeared with a thick layer of dust. "No, it's not a buzdugan. Perhaps it was struck from above and was of superhuman strength. But the one who held it stood up, while the shield was simply crumpled from the core. If it wasn't a buzdigan, then it must have been a hammer?" The girl thought as she measured the old shield in her hands. "You involuntarily start thinking, did they give up their belongings willingly, or were they asked for them very politely? Does it even happen that the gods ask?"

Mortals talked a lot about the gods, whether Greenlanders, Danes, or Swedes – everyone had their own interpretation and vision of the powers, achievements, and, of course, the Aesir's lineage, but never, in any of legends and interpretations, was the Allfather inherent in restraint. The blood of the Aesir was hot, and the blood of the Odinsons was hotter than heated iron.

“Let us be prudent, Skadisdatter.”

“So let us be prudent, Allfather. Unless prudence is not talking about art or half-heartedly making hints," Liv straightened up, the light from the candles flickered as if from a breeze that had slipped through the door behind her (which she believed to be tightly closed). "What do you want from me?"

Odin did not pause, he answered suddenly, and his words surprised her no less, embarrassing her for a moment:

"You are much alike Skadi. A striking resemblance indeed," the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth deepened into a half-smile, "She too came to me for help at first. Even when she was unable to set conditions or ask questions, she was still defiant, and then when she received an offer from my son Baldur*, she refused. I wonder where the similarities end.” The Allfather tilted his head expectantly to one side.

"Probably on the lack of interest in morganatic marriages* and the need for help."

The old god laughed briefly and shook his head.

"No, I'm not proposing any marriage to you. I'm just saying that out of respect for your mother, I don't want to turn our relationship into a boring exchange of favours."

"For some reason, our conversations always turn to my mother. But I'm listening."

"I'm asking you to be my factotum."

It took Liv a few seconds to recall the word, which was spoken in exactly the same tone as when an accountant lends you money.

"In human terms, 'run errands for you' ".

Heimdall snorted indignantly, but Odin stopped him with a wave of his hand. This was enough to silence the young man.

"I would have been more economical with snarky responses, but I am happy to answer your questions and remarks, Skadisdatter.”

"That's the thing, you're not answering them, you're dodging them." Liv crossed her arms over her chest, but then her fingers reached for a small braid where a strand of hair was weaved. She started rubbing it gently, twisting it around her finger, "Besides, how did you know I was coming?

"The children of the gods always come. Sooner or later."

“I wonder why? Does your generosity with golden apples and magic rings* have something to do with it?”

"Partly." Odin intertwined his fingers, each one sparkling with a golden ring. He wasn't smiling, but his blue eye still twinkled with amusement. "Whether out of a realisation that they do not belong among mortals or after they have flirted with their power, because their wounds heal faster and their hands can bend swords at unusual angles, they end up at best, dying in their sleep with a knife in their throat, cut by yesterday's allies or being pierced by arrows like a hedgehog with needles, dying a nasty and slow death. Unless, of course, their own blood kills them before they reach adulthood," the corner of Liv's mouth twitched slightly as the image of dirty, sticky with sweat sheets came to mind. Her nostrils tickled with the ephemeral echoes of verbena and incense. She hadn't known back then that her sickness was neither a jinx nor a god’s trail – Liv was simply unlucky enough to be another mistake between a mortal and a goddess. But the memory quickly faded and lost its colour as Odin continued, lightly twirling the ring on his index finger. If the girl hadn't been trying so hard to hide her slight trembling, she might have noticed a certain smugness in the Allfather's tone. "Sometimes demigods are characterised by sacrifice, heroism, and occasionally death in their beds without the burdensome knowledge of their origins. However, no matter what the whim of Fate, they end up here. Alive or dead.”

“Very well. Then, in the end, what kind of demi-god am I?”

“One of those who realise that strength alone is not enough before their naïvety and impulsiveness become their undoing. Skadi offered herself to balance the relationship between gods and giants, but she did so on her own terms.”

Liv pressed her lips together, knowing full well that she was hardly in a position to make any conditions. She ran her finger over the pouch, but Odin silently put something on the table. And without a word, he pushed it forward. The perfect edge, the distinctive features of the hook-nosed profile, and the smooth surface of the Asgardian coin was surprisingly similar to the one she had recently fingered in her leather bag. Heimdall tilted his head slightly to side, curling his lips in that same cocky smile – "Of course, he's managed to replace it. After all, he takes me for an idiot."

"The magic of giants is always fascinating, although it probably makes even less sense than the magic of dwarves. I assume, like the sword, it was a gift from Skadi, right?"

"Yes." Liv lied. But quickly. Too quickly.

Odin smiled slightly, pretending to believe it, and Heimdall's face twitched slightly as if he had just been bitten between the eyebrows. The Allfather spun the ring around his finger once more and pushed the coin aside with a sigh, it quickly disappeared among the papers and books on his table.

"I am only concerned that someone else might be able to slip into my kingdom like a thief through a crack in the door, Skadisdatter.”

"No thief is ever expected, no thief is ever welcomed with open arms into one's home, and even less often is a thief ever hired."

Odin leaned back into the chair easily and intertwined his fingers across his chest, a smile still playing on the old god's lips.

"And almost always, thieves lie. You claimed to want to help me when you first came, and now you're lying to my face. What do you really want, Skadisdatter? Do you want me to trust a liar?"

Liv blinked uneasily and answered with a little bit of a shudder. She tried to be more sincere this time.

"I'm sick of watching Midgard snow for years in a row, covered in frost, as people are dying and I'm sick of my inaction and powerlessness. I want to help stop it, if possible."

"However, this is not a self-interest, but an altruistic one. That's why I don't believe in it." The Allfather glanced slightly at the young god, who hadn't revealed his presence with anything but angry snorts before.

A purple gaze flickered from under the lad's furrowed brow, and he stood frozen for a few moments, looking at Liv, who in turn stood still as well. Then he rolled his eyes and nodded.

“She believes in it. Wants to believe.”

*End of the chapter* whew

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chronozen · 21 days

Text

Dissecting Tales of the Empire (Barriss stuff)

So let's break down all the Barriss stuff in the trailer:

There's an Inquisitor Shuttle approaching Our - likely after she is freed from prison

When Barriss is freed from her cell

This little bit is actually quite interesting. First of all Barriss is wearing a prison symbol with the emblem of the Jedi Order on the shoulder.

The clone troopers are Republic Shock Troopers, The Coruscant guard.

Fourth Sister is actually wearing Jedi robes not an Inquisitor uniform, she's already fallen to the Dark side as evidenced by the eyes.

This is suggesting that Barriss is freed from somewhat close to the end of Revenge of Sith

Also the framing of Barriss in prison is very similar to Luminara's hologram in Rebels.

Barriss's eyes are really blue in this scene. Like more so than other ones.

Barriss walking down a hallway

Pretty self explanatory. She's walking down a hallway. She's wearing Robes that a likely Inquisitorius initiate robes. (Or maybe it wasn't Laundry day and Barriss's uniform wasn't ready)

The Clones are just Regs in Phase 2 armour. It looks like Fortress Inquisitorius on Nur.

Speculation: Barriss is giving a little side glance, she's either taking her environment or she's plotting something.

The Grand Inquisitor scene

When then see the Grand Inquisitor leading Barriss into a room with several lightsabers

None of the Lightsabers are Luminara's (Trust me i double checked Weapon's Factory.) They are most likely reused models and generic sabres - because animation and props design is hard and short cuts should be taken whenever you can.

.....but two of those lightsabers are very close to Barriss's lightsaber.

The one in the middle doesn't seem to hold a significance (The bottom of the hilt slightly resembles Ahsoka's Padawan lightsaber, and you could go Green symbolic of Luminara.)

....wouldn't it be just awful if its Tutso Mara's lightsaber?

Inquisitor and Barriss have a sparring session, he tries to get her to use Anger and slams her into the roof, she's noticeably angry.

"Mercy only breeds defeat, i will help you overcome this weakness."

This line is interesting because it's not the usual only your Hatred can strike me down line, the Grand Inquisitor is actually being polite and offering a twisted form of assistance.

Which brings me to a thought - The Grand Inquisitor was right beside Barriss during her big confession at Ahsoka's trial, he's probably going to see her as someone that they don't have to break or torture.

Fourth Sister using Spinning Lightsaber

So this is a very short sequence. The Fourth Sister is in an area with a Rock wall, jumps down, glances around nervously, spins her blade and looks up.

Speculation: Something hasn't gone to plan, maybe the Jedi later in trailer is tougher, or maybe someone else has swapped sides...

The Jedi Fight

This shot opens with Barriss in a proper Inquisitor Uniform and her own useless spinning lightsaber running towards Fourth Sister and an unknown Jedi with a blue Saber

During the fight we can see ITS NOT LUMINARA, this Jedi has a different facial structure, skin tone and likely human.

We can also see who i assume is Barriss looking like she is hesitating on what to do.

We then cut to a different seen of a hooded figure using the force to blow away B2 Super Battle Droids. This implies its during the clone wars and the hooded figure is very likely Barriss cause that silhouette is very similar.

The figure is illuminated by a white glow and it's probably a part of sequence meant to show Barriss before she went nuts - cause its been 11 years so new viewers might not know this character who only appeared in technically 7 eps at most is...

FIGHT TO THE DEATH

Fight to death between Barriss and an unknown initiate.

Grand Inquisitor throws a lightsaber between the two - no its not Barriss's lightsaber

Ray shields go up. Initiate who i'm calling Glup, goes for the Saber. The crystal has been bled so it's red.

Glup and Barriss fight and Barriss goes for the sky high kick or possibly punch to the head.

THE NEW MASTER

'it is time to meet your new Master."

This implies the initiates don't meet Vader until they're full members.

We see Barriss lined up with the other Inquisitors - she's in full uniform. Really hard to tell if her eyes are dark side yellow or not. (They still look Blue compared to Fourth's)

Also it's really funny to me that she's lined up with Bird face Inquisitor, Marrok and Fourth Sister, cause everyone said all of those Inquisitors was Barriss Offee.

They all kneel, Barriss goes down first.

Vader walks past and Barriss looks up slightly and watches him...and she immediately frowns and furrows her eyebrows.

She's plotting something....

Interesting note: Since bird face is alive and has his head perfectly attached to his neck still, This places Barriss's eps of Tales of the Empire prior to Ahsoka's last ep of Tales of the Jedi

Look i can hope for Barriss to escape and then we seen the back of Ahsoka walk into frame....

#barrissoffee #barriss offee #tales of the empire #star wars #star wars the clone wars #trailer analysis #I spent way too much time doing this #inquisitorius #fourth sister #grand inquisitor

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loislane41319 · 6 months

Text

Fear.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Wordcount: 3094

Summary: The first time Dean sees you scared.

Warnings: Typical Supernatural stuff. Vampires, beheading vampires, death, deep feelings of guilt, loss of loved ones.

Note: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything. All three of my best friends recently moved away and I've been going to therapy for, among other things, ADHD.

Last week I had my last therapie session and, while I wrote this a few weeks ago, today I finally finished editing it!

Thank you so much for waiting for me and I really hope you'll enjoy this.

For those who'd like something less violent I am working on a dad!Spencer Reid story. I don't know when I'll post that though.

Story:

Fear is a funny thing. It can just appear out of nowhere or it can sneak up on you, like some virus that you’re not aware of until after it’s caused an infection. Fear is a feeling, but unlike happiness or anger it always comes with a bodily reaction. Depending on the situation and the person, the body can react to fear in different ways. For instance, when you come eye to eye with a tiger, you might feel your chest start to tighten. This means your muscles are getting ready to take action, possibly in the form of fighting or in the form of running away. Others might start to sweat excessively, so that their bodies will stay cool while running and then there’s the kind of person who will drop to the ground and play dead. Now, when encountering a tiger the latter method is useless, because tigers will sneak up on you and attack from behind. However when you encounter a female bear protecting her cubs, pretending to be dead is exactly the way to go.

Now, these reactions stem from a long time ago when humans regularly came in contact with wild animals, because we lived amongst them and they were a source of food. Nowadays however, we might react to having a job interview or giving a presentation in the same way our ancestors would while encountering a sabre-toothed tiger. That is, unless your job is to hunt ghosts, demons or other supernatural beings.

Of course, these hunters are humans so they know fear. Probably even better than normal folk. The thing about hunters is that, while they are afraid, they don’t show it. They can’t, otherwise whatever creature they’re hunting will gain the upper hand. So, while learning what monsters are out there and how to beat them, a hunter will learn how to handle their fear. They’ll learn to keep their breathing under control, so they won’t start hyperventilating and panic, but they’ll be able to keep thinking clearly. They learn to think on their feet, so that, even when a creature does gain the upper hand, they can turn the tables just as fast. And most of all, they learn that being scared is okay, because their own fear won’t kill them, but whatever creature they’re facing might.

You are one of those hunters. You’ve been hunting for almost two decades and you’re good at it. You were also a mystery. You had some impressive kills to your name and so other hunters starting talking about you, but no one actually knew you. Rumours were spread and you were made out to be some kind of superhuman. Eventually, the word most used to describe you, was fearless.

The rumours eventually also reached the Winchesters. Dean was not only impressed, but intrigued by the stories he heard and his desire to meet you kept growing the more he heard about you. Sam however, had his doubts about the rumours floating around and would rather focus on facts.

Dean was granted his wish though. Four months ago you met the brothers while working the same case. You got along well and after working together and solving the case you worked together more and more.

While drinking a beer on the hood of his car, you even opened up to Dean about losing your mother as a child and since he went through something similar, you two became very close. Bit by bit you pulled away the veil that you had draped over your past. You shared stories about your family , your pain, but not your fear. Never your fear. To you, fear was something you couldn’t allow yourself to feel. Instead of learning to deal with it, you had taught yourself to bury it, deep down inside of you where no one, not even you, could get to it. And it worked. You killed vampires, ghosts, werewolves and demons all on your own. It didn’t even matter how many there were, you would always get the job done. Until one fateful night.

You and the Winchesters were working a case that involved multiple bodies, found with bite marks and without blood. The culprit was a vampire. That you knew almost instantly. What you didn’t know however, was how many there were or where they were held up. After the third victim was found, you realised all the bodies were left around an old abandoned factory and you decided to investigate.

Ever since you entered the town though, the hairs on the back of your neck had stood up straight. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like something was off, but since you had no idea what, you shrugged it off and focused on the job you had to do.

The second you found yourself at the factory though, your heart started banging in your chest, harder than it ever had. But, as always, you shoved the feeling down and kept going. There were three buildings in the area and you decided to clear them together, one by one. The first building was empty. When you thought you had cleared the second building, suddenly you were pushed to the ground. You managed to catch yourself, but as your hands hit the ground, an image flashed through your brain. You saw your hands on the exact same floor except everything was covered in blood. What was going on? Within a second you were back to reality, without any idea what had just happened. Your skin was now clammy, your breathing heavy and you were sweating profusely. “Y/N, you okay?” You heard Dean ask. You got up and after turning around you noticed a beheaded body and blood dripping off of Sam’s machete. It was a vampire that had pushed you down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get to the last building.” You answered and all three of you kept going.

You walked over to the third building and stood next to Dean as Sam opened the door. Before entering, you swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself down. For a split second, you wondered if you should let Sam and Dean handle this building without you, but you immediately threw that thought out of the window. How could you even think about leaving your friends just when things got difficult?

The second you entered the factory hall, you felt like you had walked into a wall. You staggered backwards, slamming your back into the wall behind you as your brain was flooded with images of this very hall covered in blood and remains. Suddenly you heard your brother. He was screaming, vampires were growling and suddenly you were on the ground and the blood was gone. The next second you could see Sam and Dean fighting some vamps, but you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You saw a vampire coming straight at you, but you weren’t sure if it was really there, so you had no idea what to do. You pressed yourself against the wall, pulling your knees against your chest. In an attempt to make everything stop, you covered your ears and closed your eyes, hiding your face between your knees.

As the last vampire’s head hit the floor, Dean started looking for you and Sam. He found his brother first, standing over another dead vampire a few feet away. “You okay?” Sam asked. “Yeah” Dean answered and he was about to ask where you were when he heard you whimpering. “No, no, no. Go away, leave me alone.” You mumbled. For a second Dean wasn’t sure if you were actually you. You were hyperventilating, tears were streaming down your face and you looked so small Dean could barely recognise the strong, powerful woman he had gotten to know in the last few months. Both brothers ran toward you and knelt down next to you. “Hey, Y/N? It’s Dean. It’s safe now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me?” Dean softly asked. Somehow, through all the screaming and the blood and the violence in your head Dean’s voice was crystal clear. Like a light in the darkest night you tried your best to focus on his voice and you let him guide you back to reality. “Dean?” You managed to get out through sort breaths. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s me. It’s okay. Try to breathe.” He told you. You slowly looked up at him and while everything outside of you was calm and quiet, your body was still a complete chaos on the inside. “I-I can’t.” You told Dean as your right hand found your heart. “Yes you can. Here.” Dean said. He took your hand from your heart and placed it over his own. “Try to match my breathing. You can do this, I know you can.” He told you and you tried your best, but your erratic breathing didn’t change. Dean looked at his brother, wordlessly asking him for help. Sam held his hands up, wordlessly telling his brother he didn’t know how. Dean looked back to you. His heart broke seeing you like this and it hurt so much more because he couldn’t help you. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might help you.

Suddenly, an idea popped into this head. It may have been the most ridiculous, dumb idea he ever had, but he had to help you and there was nothing else he could think of. Still holding your hand over his heart, Dean laid his other hand in your neck and pressed his lips against yours.

In the last for months Dean had loved getting to know you. He deeply enjoyed hanging out with you and felt honoured every time you told him something about yourself you hadn’t told anyone else. He had wanted to ask you out for two months now, but had never found the courage to do that. About a week ago you were working on another case. You had found changelings and after killing the mother, one of the human kids didn’t want to leave their cage. It was a little, four-year-old girl and Dean couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to her. “I know you’re scared and your mommy isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.” You told her. “But there are scary people out there.” The little girl whispered. “I know, but I will be with you the whole way, so I can protect you, okay?” You asked her. “Even from him?” She whispered back, pointing at Dean. A small smile appeared on your face. “I know he seems scary, but that’s my friend Dean. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” You told her and as you took the girl into your arms, Dean realised he didn’t just like you. He was falling in love with you.

As he let you go, you could finally take a deep breath in. You took a few moments to steady your breathing and then you noticed the two faces staring questioningly at you. “Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked you. “Not here. I gotta get out of here first.” You told the brothers, shaking your head. They nodded and the three of you got up and left.

About an hour later, you were back at the motel. You and Dean had both taken showers and Sammy had gotten the dinner you were now enjoying. You made smalltalk for a few minutes, until Sam decided to address the elephant in the room. “Y/N, can you please tell us what happened? I mean, in the months that we’ve known you we’ve seen you kill all kinds of creatures, including vampires, without braking a sweat and tonight you had a full blown panic attack. Do you even know what caused it?” He asked. You softly sighed and nodded, knowing you could get around it any longer. “I grew up in a family of hunters. As you know, my mom died when I was little and so my dad and my brother started hunting together, leaving me at whatever seedy motel room we were staying in. One day, when I was fifteen, I decided I was old enough to join them. They didn’t agree, so I figured I’d prove it to them. They were after a vampire and I had overheard them talking about where they thought it would be that night. A few hours later, I snuck out and went there. The vampire was held up somewhere in an old factory. Three buildings and lots of ground to cover.”

“The place we were tonight.” Sam filled in. You nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the lights were on in the third building, so I went in. I found my dad and brother inside and it turned out there wasn’t just one vampire. There were five of them. The moment one of them noticed me, I screamed. It ran straight at me, but my brother managed to kill it in time.

My dad however, had gotten distracted by my scream, giving another vamp enough time to stab him. My brother yelled at me to run, but there were still three vamps left. I did what he told me and waited for him outside, but he never came out. He was barely eighteen. He saved my life twice in one night and had to make up for it with his own.” You felt a tear slide down your face and fell quiet. “And all of that happened in the building we were in tonight?” Sam asked. You nodded. “I always felt like their deaths were my fault, because if I hadn’t screamed, they’d still be here. So I decided I couldn’t be scared anymore.” You admitted. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam told you. Dean took your hand, causing you look at him. “I’m so sorry about that, Y/N, but their deaths aren’t your fault, they’re the vamps fault and it’s okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared sometimes, you just can’t let that stop you.” He told you sincerely. “I mean, you’re sitting next to a guy who shits his pants every time the Plucky Pennywhistle’s commercial plays.” Dean added grinning. “Haha. Here’s an idea. Take Dean on a flight. He’ll scream like a little girl the whole way.” Sam bit back, got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

The silence that followed was heavy. Dean cleared his throat and started gathering the fast-food wrappers that were all over the table. As he got up to throw them away, you decided you had to get something off of your chest. “Dean, how did you know kissing me would help me breathe?” You asked as you turned to him. He just shrugged. “Read it somewhere, I think.” He mumbled. “So, it was just that? Just a way to get me to take deeper breaths?” You asked, getting up and walking towards him. “Yeah, I was just trying to-“ You turned him towards you and softly pressed your lips against his, effectively cutting him off. He kissed you back, dropping the towel he was holding in the sink and wrapping his arm around your waist. One of your hands found its way into his hair, while the other intertwined both of your fingers. Then you pulled back. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to, I’d-“ You tried to walk away, but had somehow forgotten you were still holding Deans hand. “Not so fast. I have something to admit. I didn’t just kiss you to stop you from panicking. I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to kiss you before it was too late.” Dean said while walking closer to you. “Really?” You asked him. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to ask you out for months, but I was so scared of losing you that I kept chickening out. So, this is me, not letting my fear stop me. Y/N, will you go out with me? Because I think I’m falling for you.” You were so close, your foreheads and noses touched and you could feel Dean’s breath against your lips as he talked. You pressed another kiss to his lips and a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you. And Dean? I fell for you four months ago.” You told him. Dean kissed you again and then you finally let go of his hand. “We should get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” You told him, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face.

The moment the door closed behind you, you felt cold. Part of you wanted to get back inside and stay with Dean until the morning and another part you was yelling at you because it’s just one night. You could be without him for that long, couldn’t you? So, you went to your own room and got ready for bed. Once in bed, though, you couldn’t sleep. You kept tossing and turning and for whatever reason you were freezing. After a few minutes, you decided enough was enough. You got out of bed and made your way back to Sam and Deans room. The light was still on and Sam was still in the shower. Dean was in bed flipping though channels. His hand disappeared under his pillow when the door opened, until he noticed it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” He asked and turned off the tv. “Hey, can I sleep here tonight?” You asked softly. Then you saw the most adorable thing you had seen in a while. Deans eyes started shining and his lips turned into the sweetest smile. “Come here.” He said. He held up a corner of the blanket and moved back as you crawled into bed next to him. The first moments were a little awkward as Dean was laying with his back toward the edge of the bed and you laid with your back towards him. He loosely laid an arm around your waist and waited to see how you’d react. You took his hand, intertwined your fingers and pulled it against your heart. Then you softly kissed Dean’s knuckles and the awkwardness melted away. Dean wrapped his other arm around you too and pulled you against his chest. “Goodnight, handsome.” You whispered. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dean whispered back and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. Not two minutes later you were both fast asleep when Sam came out of the bathroom. He immediately noticed you in his brothers bed and couldn’t help but smile. Finally.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #vampire #fearless #guilt #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #friends to lovers #rumors

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couldawouldashoulda50 · 2 months

Text

A heart full of regret - Part 2 (William Nylander)

Part 1 is here

A/N - I’m going to start this off with an apology. I’ve been writing as a female reader insert but did have a specific picture of someone in my mind for the reader herself, in terms of physical traits etc. Looking back, I should have probably made this a William x OC story. I apologize if the body/hair/facial descriptions have made it difficult in any way to have the reader put some version of themselves into the story. I’m sort of learning as I go along.

I had planned to release this around the holidays but true to form, my personal responsibilities derail my escapism 😉

In this next part, there are some musician/song references to the late Shane MacGowan/The Pogues and Sinead O’Connor, as well as their respective funerals. I have included the lyrics to the chorus of a song entitled Fare Thee Well Love by The Rankin Family (posted in the next blub 2.1) - but it’s passed off as a song written and sung by the reader. While there are facts used as part of the story (including a couple of links to the reality), all of this is meant to be purely fictional.

Warnings - overall 18+ themes (various sexual references), angst, alcohol, swearing, cigarettes, brief mention of illness/death - sorry if I missed anything.

Word Count 10K+

Thanks so much as always for dropping by.

Early December, 2023

A wide grin spans your face as the broad man, with salt and pepper hair (more salt than pepper these days), approaches you.

“Hey handsome” you said cheekily followed with a wink, as he embraced you in a friendly hug. “I hope it’s still ok that I call you that….it’s the first thing that comes to mind every time I see you”.

“Best compliment I have had all day, next to my wife’s of course. How ya’ doin, kid?” Sheldon smiles at you as you step back from him. Sheldon has always called you “kid” despite him only being just shy of 13 years older than you.

“Well then, as long as Jackie doesn’t mind that I call you that either”,' you smile as you and Sheldon walk toward the players lounge. “I’m doing well…busy, but good.”

“Ah well, you know my wife - she just laughs and agrees with you…she says you obviously have immaculate taste” Sheldon quips.

You chuckle and give him a little nudge. “Yeah, well, in most cases I do”, you smile. “Dare I ask how you’re doing? I’m not asking about hockey…I just mean with the regular, normal-ish part of your life, if you even have that.”

“I need more normal these days than what I’ve been getting…but yeah, the kids and Jackie are all doing great. Thank God for them.”

You get the hint. The Leafs have been shaky out of the gate this season with inconsistent outcomes; it’s been like watching a pendulum swinging between pure magic and potential disaster.

You shoot Sheldon a knowing smile.

“Well, thanks for letting me stop by - I didn't like asking…I don’t want to ever be any kind of distraction, but I have something special to give Jake (McCabe) and Gaby wanted me to surprise him here after practice.”

“You gonna let me in on the secret?”

You lift the heavy coffee-table style book that you had been carrying along your side into view and run your hand over the smooth hard cover. Sheldon glances at the black and white photo of you spanning the surface. The photo was taken at one of your band's first sold out shows in Manchester back in 2010; you were just in your 18th year of life. Your long layered hair is tousled around your face; a cigarette dangles from your mouth.

“Yeah, I kinda love this. I’m so happy with how this turned out…the imagery and photography of all the guitars are amazing. We’re selling these books at the exhibit…it chronicles the collection of the guitars on display.”

You flip to a page showing a nickel and steel plated guitar from the 1930’s.

“I met Jake ages ago, back when he was on the Sabres. He and Gaby approached us after an acoustic show that we played. We just hit it off, all of us - Jake and I are both total guitar geeks and over time, he told me his dream was to have one of these nickel plated beauties. I said I had one that was rare which he totally flipped out about it - it’s this one in the picture”, you smile as you recount the conversation.

“Wow…it's really beautiful”, Sheldon leans over to take a closer look.

You continue your story, “So, I’m not sure - have you heard of Shane MacGowan?”

“Oh right, my brother became a huge fan when he moved to Belfast - Adam told me he passed. You knew him?”

“Our band has strong Irish connections with two of our members being from there; we met Shane and some of The Pogues a number of years ago. We managed to stay in touch - I was very fond of Shane, and he was of me. He was almost like a protective older uncle - know what I mean? He had a rough go with that illness since last year and so after Sinead (O’Connor) passed, I stayed behind after her funeral and spent some time visiting him in the hospital. My heart breaks every time I remember him in that hospital bed - I haven’t been able to get those images out of my mind yet.”

Your emotions were already still pretty raw with your idol-turned-friend passing in July, but with another passing of someone you held so dear just a few days ago, you could feel your throat tighten with sadness and loss.

You took a deep breath. “Anyway, Shane played the same type of guitar in a duet he sang with Sinead back in the ‘90’s. Long story short, he had his wife give me the one he used for that song. As much as I love the one I already owned here, Shane’s means a thousand times more to me. So…I thought I would surprise Jake and give him this one, knowing how much he would treasure it”.

Sheldon continues to leaf through the glossy pages. “Y/N, you are pretty remarkable, you know that?” Sheldon throws his arm around you while discreetly looking at his watch. “I’m sorry, I gotta run but I know Jake will be coming through here any minute so just sit tight and he’ll be out. Oh - and Jackie was talking about having you over for dinner so she’ll be reaching out to you soon. See ya’, kiddo”. Sheldon gives your shoulder a little squeeze and then disappears down the hallway.

Over the years, you have become a welcome sight around the Leafs organization; your presence had essentially reached the point of being more or less commonplace and didn’t warrant the media coverage that it once did. You helped out with various MLSE charities as well, having a preference for more of the hands-on local charity initiatives, whenever time allowed it.

Ultimately, you had established some strong personal connections within the Leafs and their families, so whenever you were in Toronto, it was not an out of place thing to occasionally see you turn up at a practice or out to dinner with a few of the WAGs.

As you waited for Jake, various staff and players stopped by for a quick catch-up before heading home for the day.

Jake eventually emerged in his Leafs tracksuit, freshly showered with a baseball cap on backward. He spots you and gives you a wide smile, mixed with some confusion, as he approaches you. Gio appears right after Jake and the two circle around you for a hug.

With the book concealed, you make small talk with the handsome veterans. They congratulate you on the gallery exhibit and they assure you they cannot wait to go and see it.

Two dogs suddenly appear out of nowhere; it doesn't take you long to determine they belong to William.

Knowing he would be appearing any second, you try to calm your nerves and focus solely on the dogs as they run towards you, jumping at your feet.

Your heart melts at the sight of them, and you gush “Oh my goodness, is this Pablo and Banksy?”

William hears your voice and stops dead in his tracks. His stomach flips and churns and his heart starts to race.

Oh my God, if that's her…holy shit…

He rounds the corner to see you bending down, allowing the dogs to completely envelop you.

“C'mon, whoa, whoa, whoa….boys - down…”, William chuckles and smiles at you somewhat apologetically.

“I don’t mind one bit…but you better listen to your Dad” you said to Pablo, giving him another scratch and rub as you stood up.

You smile at William who is posturing for an embrace and as his arms pull you in, as you reciprocate the gesture.

“How’s it going, William….” which you say as more of a statement than a question.

“Really good. It’s good to see you again”, William smiles widely, hardly believing you're in front of him now.

Before you melt or explode or however your body is reacting to his touch, you calmly say “you too” with a smile.

Turning back to Jake and Gio, you desperately hope you don’t appear as flustered as you feel.

William comes up on your one side while Jake and Gio, and even a few others have gathered around a countertop in the lounge.

“So, I have a bit of a surprise for Jake - that’s why I’m here. Actually, Jake’s wife is in on the surprise so I’m just going to call her real quick”.

The men that had gathered look at Jake who appears a little panicked, but in the best way possible.

Gaby answers and you ask Gio if he could hold the phone up, showing her face on the screen, in which he obliges once waving hello to Gaby.

You flip the heavy, hardcover book around; everyone leans in to get a glance at the cover. William catches a glimpse of the photo of you on the cover. He's not seen many images of you from when your career started, and the photograph captivates him immediately. Your tousled hair, your eyes that always bore into his soul, and your beautiful mouth that many times had made William almost see God himself.

William discreetly gazes at you.

You had been polluting his thoughts since he saw you at Mitch’s wedding. He wished you could have stayed. He wished he could have talked more with you; maybe could have danced with you…or better still, touched you for the first time in 4 years.

As you begin to explain the details of Jake’s surprise, you try to tame the whirlwind of emotions that circle within you. Between the loss of a dear friend, the anticipation of giving Jake a guitar that he has only dreamt of, and the remnants of feelings that you carry for William, you have to pause a few times while you speak just to regain your composure and keep the tears at bay.

William watches you open the book, and as you flip to the desired page to show Jake his newest possession, pangs of guilt and regret hit William.

William was famous for his confidence; he rarely burdened himself with many heavy thoughts, as he did not waste time dwelling on the past or anything that he could not change. The anointed King of Unbothered. And, as well as that has served him in both his personal and professional life, there were rare moments where something or someone shook him right to his core.

As he studied the side profile of your face, at this moment, you were that very person. Someone he realized that he had carelessly, and foolishly, disposed of. He disposed of your friendship, your companionship, and your love. Four years ago, he cut all ties with you, which was well within his right to do. But, the manner in which he severed those ties, never once affording you the ability to say a word in response, still haunted him to this day. What was worse is that two years later, he reached out to you, seemingly desperate to get a hold of you, and then he ghosted you once you responded. Your head spun with even more confusion and hurt than you had ever felt before and as time went on, it was yet another proverbial nail in the coffin for you and William.

William mused that when he saw you at Mitch’s wedding, you could have behaved any number of ways. You could have gone out of your way to ignore him. You could have been snide and made his entire night hell. You could have berated him for his callousness. He probably deserved all three of these possibilities.

Instead, you greeted him with kindness and friendship, which to William, only further illuminated your ravishing beauty. The way you still managed to smile at him, even though he sensed a deep sorrow behind your beautiful, deep brown eyes, it rocked William’s typical carefree nature.

And now you stood before him and his teammates, gifting Jake a precious guitar simply because you knew how happy it would make him to have it. William’s chest heaved with a mix of deep desire and the stark reality of the mistakes he's made with you.

William’s mind snapped back to the present, smiling at his teammate as Jake reeled and appeared completely flabbergasted.

“I can’t believe you remembered that conversation about this guitar, Y/N…that was ages ago. Jesus - I still played for Buffalo at the time…I cannot believe you’re giving this to me” Jake said, his face flushed as he looked at you and then turned to his wife’s face on the phone “and you knew about this…” he grins at Gaby.

“Can’t wait to hear you play for me, baby”, Gaby said, blowing Jake a kiss.

“Ok, so once the exhibit closes, I’ll get the guitar prepped for you and have it delivered. There are some nuances to how to tune her so I’ll drop by sometime and walk you through it. Oh, and here - the book is for you as well” you smile wryly at Jake “sorry, I think I diminished its value by signing it….but there is a little note for you in there for you too” you chuckle.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this but thank you so much Y/N. I’m completely stunned.”

After hugs were given and goodbyes were said, the small group dissipated.

You turned to see William standing off to the side, glancing at his phone while Pablo and Banksy lay at his feet.

“Awh, your boys are tired” you said, unable to contain your smile looking at the two dogs, and then at William. “They’re awesome - it figures you’d have the most fly dogs ever”.

“You ever think about getting one? I guess it’s hard with all your travel but you can take them with you. I take these guys along with me all the time, almost everywhere I go”.

“When COVID started, I was in London…I started fostering from a nearby shelter. I wanted to give the dogs that were constantly overlooked a chance to get out of that environment and see if we could get some viable adoption candidates. I have been doing that here as well - my last girl just got adopted after being in a shelter for over 8 years; I just haven’t had the chance to go see another one to bring home.”

You bring out your phone and lean towards William to show a picture of the last dog in your care, Siba, a nine-year old Asian Shepherd.

William cheeks flushed pink as he catches the scent of your fragrance; a sudden urge to have his lips graze your skin as he recounts each location on your body where you usually dabbed each drop of perfume has his mind racing and his cock hardening.

Either side of your neck.

Sometimes behind your ears.

Your wrists.

Between your breasts.

Sometimes a little swipe across your navel.

“She’s so beautiful…” William said, hoping that you’d get the subtle hint he might be referring to you as well.

You shift uncomfortably for a second; he’s standing so close that you can feel his breath.

No. He didn’t get to do this to you again. The innocent remarks that whisper allusions to his desire for you is what you thought you wanted to hear for the past 4 years. But, all the sentiment is doing now is creating havoc in your mind.

You swipe the screen to close the photo down and drop the phone back into the pocket of your coat. You turn back to William and smile, now in a little more control of yourself than before.

“Christmas came early this year I guess…for both Siba and Jake.” you said, as you lean down to pet the dogs again and say goodbye.

“Oh - wait…speaking of Christmas…” William hesitates, sensing a slight change in your disposition. “I have been meaning to get in touch with you about that…”

“Oh, right - yeah…no worries…your Mom reached back out to me and said you gave the thumbs up for staying at the house. She mentioned you would reach out but I’m sure you’ve been pretty busy.”

William has an inkling when you’ve mentioned him being “busy”, you’re not referring to his hockey schedule.

“I’ve been working out some details with your parents already…it’s all good.” You tried not to sound too curt but there was a definite chill in your response.

William senses the conversation is quickly derailing.

William’s voice becomes low and soft. “Hey….maybe we could still get together sometime? Maybe drop by sometime? I'd kinda like to be involved with the Christmas thing and… it’s just there are some things that we maybe need to talk about.”

Talk. He’s about a million years too late for that, you think to yourself.

“If you feel there’s a need, sure. Let me know when and where…you moved, right?”

William’s expression changed, showing shades of remorse. “I’ll text you the address. I just have practices for now; we don’t play until the 7th so any afternoon is good. Today even, if that works for you”.

“I’m flying out to Ireland again late on the 5th so yeah - maybe today or tomorrow…”

Thinking back to your conversation at Mitch’s wedding, William joked with a slight smirk “Ireland again? Not another funeral I hope…”

You quickly looked away, tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“It is, actually” you said softly.

Oh my god, you idiot, William berated himself in his mind. ”Fuck…Y/N….I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have joked”.

“No, I know, Will. It’s ok…I’ll be ok” you smiled, faintly. It seemed like, for the thousandth time that day, you fought to suppress the ache deep within you and had to fight back tears.

William gently reached for your hand and pulled you into his arms. Involuntarily, you gripped onto his hoodie, probably a little too tightly, all in an effort to not completely fall apart in front of him.

You pull away, still trying to hide the anguish on your face with a smile. It broke William a little to see you struggling to maintain your composure. Always putting on a brave face, no matter how cracked or broken you felt, was what you did. It was how you were wired.

“Here…if you’re leaving, I’ll walk you out to your car” William said, searching for his keys in his pocket.

You were tempted to come up with an excuse to avoid spending any additional time alone with William, simply because every molecule in your body was inexplicably drawn to him.

Fresh out of reasons or rationale, your mind was too overwhelmed lately to come up with the excuse needed to flee in the opposite direction. The 4 of you walked down the corridor together in a comfortable silence, and exited into the parking lot.

Pablo and Banksy bolt forward out into the daylight, but do not stray far from their Dad, as they happily jump on each other while nearing your vehicle. William smiled to himself and shook his head. Of course your vehicle of choice wasn’t a super luxury SUV or sports car. You took your key fob out and unlocked the black crew cab 4x4 truck. He could picture it now; you in your tank top and jeans, covered in dirt and dust with your work gloves on, hauling lumber and bags of concrete mix for a mini home project.

You were always a parallel of opposites.

Poised and immaculate at high-profile events and functions versus you at home, decked out in ripped work clothes with sweat and sawdust stuck to every part of your body.

Your ultra-cool and larger than life demeanour on stage as you absorbed the electric energy from the crowd versus your sometimes quiet, humble, and super composed personality off stage.

Your vocabulary and your way with words versus your ability to spout off more profanity than a pissed-off truck-driver.

The innocent and submissive side you showed William while making love on many occasions, when he was between your thighs versus the absolute rocket you became when you flipped the switch and took complete control of his body.

“So….what about today. Do you think you could come by later on…I could order in some food - we could catch up?”

You open the door to your truck and Pablo and Banksy both put their front paws on the running board, their tails wagging furiously.

You look at them and chuckle, and bend down to let them bombard you with affection.

“Yeah, you know what…sure, that sounds good. But if you don’t send me your address and end up ghosting me yet again…William….I just - don’t even….”, shaking your head and chuckling, leaving the sentence unfinished. You hop into the truck and William shoo’s the dogs away from the truck door.

“Awh - Y/N - fuck…” William winces at your sarcasm, rubbing the back of his neck, showing a mix of guilt and acknowledgement that he deserved it. “I’m not going to do that”.

“Uh-huh….famous last words,” you said in a cheeky tone, rolling your eyes as you turned the ignition on. “I guess we’ll see you later…bye boys…”.

William chuckled and watched you drive off towards the exit. Walking back to his SUV with the dogs in tow, he felt an excitement, to the point of giddiness, which he hadn’t felt in ages about anyone. He had no idea how the future would pan out but he could at least look forward to tonight so the two of you could finally clear the air.

William arrives home and after one last bathroom break for the dogs, he starts his typical routine of making calls while eating whatever he picked up from the chefs at the rink or on the way home. He knows your food preferences and makes a mental note of which restaurant he’ll call for take out from. The last thing he does before his afternoon siesta is a quick home delivery order of red wine and other essentials.

He stretches out on the couch that he recently had deep-cleaned due to his last few

sex-capades, none of which seemed to end well or at least warranted an invite for a return visit. He begins to drift off; his dogs curled up around his feet and legs.

Panic suddenly grips him as he realized he had not sent you his address.

See? no 👻 - 😉 William texts as he sends you the address.

If I had forgotten - what a fuckin disaster William thought before falling into a restful sleep.

A couple of hours later, and at least an hour before William was ready to wake up, his phone began to dance and vibrate on the coffee table. Groaning, he grabs the phone off the table and fumbles with it until he can focus on the caller.

The name “Trina” is illuminated on the display.

“Fuuuuuuck” William grumbles while forcing the call to voicemail. “Should have fucking blocked her”.

Since the last time William and Trina had seen each other, there had been a few harmless texts; mostly Trina following up on William’s health and well-being.

Despite the rather unappealing outcome of their last meeting, William had started to think perhaps he had been too hasty in judging their first sexual experience together. She was beautiful, eager, and readily accessible; these are the exact qualities William needed for a short term fling. He decided to keep his options open, although he continued to feign being unwell until he was ready to see Trina again.

This all was, of course, prior to William seeing you again.

A voicemail notification appears on the screen followed by a text message bubble.

Missing you - let me come by and make you feel better

William rubs his hand over his face, stroking his moustache as he thinks about how to respond. Thanks but I’ll be ok. Just need some more rest. I’ll msg you soon. Good enough, William thinks and sets his phone back on the table.

He leans back on the couch, and closes his eyes again, when another chime sounds from his cell.

“Jesus - take a fucking hint…” he mutters, grabbing his phone.

It’s from you:

You sure about the no 👻… you didn’t tell me what time… have you already started 🏃?

William laughs and responds:

I’m not gonna 🏃… too tired. I might hide tho. How’s 5?

Dots appear as you type your response:

Ooof 💀. K - see you then.

90 minutes from now. Fuck. I should have told her 4.

William continues to read your text exchange over again as he smiles to himself. You always succeeded in making William laugh, no matter how small the exchange was. Your individual senses of humour seemed to mesh flawlessly - he seemed to get you and your little idiosyncrasies, the same way you understood his.

He looked forward to the possibility of earning your friendship back and maybe even more. William wondered if you had met anyone; he had heard rumblings a while ago about you catching the eyes and interests of a few other NHL’ers but he hadn’t heard anything since. In William’s mind (and he was aware he had no claim on you), he dreaded the idea of you being with anyone, but there was something so much worse if that guy was another hockey player in the league.

He pushed those thoughts to the side; he would need to establish rumour and fact later, and it made him queasy just thinking about it.

Rather than trying to steal a few more minutes of sleep, William putters around the condo tidying up here and there, but feeling no pressure in having the place look unlived in.

Nerves were starting to build. William seemed to wander aimlessly from one room to the other, serving no other purpose than to kill time. Although he had a shower after practice, William decided on another long shower to help him relax, and to allow him to take some additional care with his grooming regimen.

William steps into the hot water and closes his eyes as the warmth and the steam envelop him. Every quiet moment lately, William has thought about the two of you and your past. Memories that never seem to erode; images that William would often rely on when he needed to drift off to sleep or relieve some built up “tension”.

Streams of water weave their paths down William's broad chest, through his chest hair and down his toned abs, eventually trickling down the veins of his cock, and dripping off the tip. He begins to feel a stirring, an urge with the thoughts of your arrival. William's strong hand gingerly wraps around his shaft and he begins to pump himself with long, methodical strokes.

He remembers the occasions with the two of you in the shower….

….you on your knees before him and encouraging his cock further into your mouth until the tip is rubbing against the back of your throat. With his hand fisting the hair at the back of your head, you allowed him to fuck you deep in your mouth until you tasted the pre-cum seeping onto your tongue. William marvelled with how much your mouth could accommodate as you expertly controlled your gag reflex and breathing. It seemed with your years of voice and mouth exercises, the benefits were many, beyond simply increasing your vocal range and pitch.

As William spouted broken sentences of praise for what you were doing to him, you would masterfully take control of his cock with your hands, stroking his girth, alternating between licking and sucking the rounded head as it turned shades of feverish reds and purples. William’s grunts and loud groans never ceased to arouse you as William began climaxing. You lapped at his balls, gently sucking on them as you continued to pump his shaft. You ached to hear the warnings before he cums, desperately waiting for him to unload. Gripping his ass, your mouth engulfs his cock, your head moving back and forth at a frenzied pace. You force the oozing head towards the entrance of your throat. William’s hand cradles the back of your neck, allowing you to look up. Your eyes locked on each other as his seed coated the inside of your mouth. You smile as you enjoy the taste of him, and slowly guide his cock away from your open mouth as strings of your spit mixed with his cum stretch from the head. Your eyes remain fixed on his; soft smiles and intimate words are lovingly exchanged as you continue to lap, suck and fill your mouth again and again with his generous cock.

William shuddered as he watched you intently overtaking his semi-erect member into your mouth. With you maintaining his heightened arousal, the urge to spread your thighs apart for him to greedily feast on your pussy took hold. You always claimed to be a better giver than receiver, but William was now hell-bent on respectfully pushing your boundaries. Without fail, each and every time, you had given him the hottest oral of his life, and William was determined to reciprocate until your pussy was properly worshipped.

He pulled you up and pressed you hard against the shower wall with his thick and muscular frame. He scanned your face, focusing his gaze on your lips; he watched as the water washed away the remainder of his cum that had oozed from your mouth. He used his thumb to slowly guide the fluids back into your mouth, allowing you to suck on the tip of his thumb. He kissed you; his lips were hungry and eager on your mouth as his tongue manoeuvred around yours. His hands moved skillfully from massaging your tits, down along your sides, and towards the front of your abdomen. You let out a gasp and bit your lip hard as 8 fingertips gently landed with a faint, feather-like touch near your pussy, as he began to lightly graze your wet and ready folds. You begin to shiver at his touch and have the goosebumps to prove it; your pussy is past the point of throbbing and you are almost on the fringes of insanity waiting for William to binge on your core.

He wanted to mark you tonight. His mouth slid down your body, nipping and sucking some of the most pleasurable, albeit discreet, areas of your toned body. As he knelt on the shower floor, he caressed your long leg, leaving love bites at the apex of your slender thigh which he then guided one over his shoulder. His mouth instantly latches onto your folds as he slowly strokes your clitoris with his pointed tongue. You shriek, reacting to William suddenly engaging his jaw muscles to tongue-fuck you in concert with mercilessly licking your clit. William rubbed his facial hair repeatedly over your most sensitive spots, feasting on your swollen pussy as if it was his favourite dessert, moaning with pleasure as your arousal hit his taste buds. He loved hearing you cry out his name, watching you let go of your usual collected composure and allowing him to help release your inner inhibitions.

As an added bonus, he inserted his middle and ring fingers slowly and deeply inside your cunt. He adjusted and moved the ends of his fingers eventually hitting the most desirable spot as he watched you writhe in pure ecstasy. He wanted to see you succumb to the sensation as he continued lapping and stroking your clitoris with his tongue. He began to move his fingers rapidly in and out of your entrance, until your thighs began to shake and quiver involuntarily. William increased his already formidable pace with his fingers and his tongue as you fight not to collapse under the sheer magnitude of your impending orgasm.

And when he brings you to the highest level of pleasure, he vigorously gyrates his fingers deep inside your core, inciting you to cry out as you squirt for him. After he made you spray for him a few more times, he laced his fingers with yours and he stood up, pressing you against the shower wall again. One hand slides back down to your pussy and he gently rubs two fingers against your engorged clit. William’s eyes are locked on yours as he slowly pulls his fingers up to his mouth, and wipes the sheen from your arousal on his pouting lips. He runs his tongue along the shiny trail he made with his fingers, whispering in your ear of how delicious you are.

Back in a lonelier shower, William’s head falls back under the steady stream of hot water that begins to collect in his open mouth as he’s reaching his orgasm. He spits it out and begins to grunt as streams of cum erupt into the flow of water heading to the drain on the shower floor.

He pants for a moment, catching his breath. He needed that. He needed to take the edge off before you arrived.

William steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his midriff. The steam quickly dissipates as he exits the bathroom into his bedroom, and he takes his time selecting the relaxed and casual attire for the evening. He glances at his phone to check the time. 4:30.

He sighs and smiles slightly; he’s really looking forward to tonight, to just have you there relaxing on his couch, catching up on the past few years.

He checks his messages, making sure there was nothing new from you. There is, however, another text from Trina.

My friend and I are going to Mademoiselle for Happy Hour and then dinner. Maybe it will do you good to come out - we can all have a little bit of fun?

Knowing the message will show as being read, William sends a short response.

Not tonight, but thanks anyway.

Trina responds with just an emoji showing her disappointment.

William shakes his head and finishes getting ready. Minutes tick on but it feels like hours, and he’s getting impatient.

The ringtone on his phone assigned to building Security begins to chime, startling William for a moment and each of the dogs perk up their ears in response. He answers the call and his stomach flips once the guard announces your arrival.

He can hardly believe how nervous he’s become and silently kicks his own ass in his head for being so ridiculous. But on the other hand, it’s you. The one girl he still finds himself longing for after so many years.

He props the door open wide enough so you can spot him once you get off the elevator; Pablo and Banksy sit at William’s feet anxiously anticipating the arrival of someone new.

Once the elevator reaches William’s floor, he can hear the chime and the doors sliding open. You step into the plush waiting area and then follow the signs pointing to the appropriate suite number.

You round the corner and see him waiting in his doorway. It’s no use to try and conceal your smile when your eyes land on his grinning face. He opens up the door allowing the dogs to fly down the hallway in your direction.

William watches you beam with delight as you bend down to greet the two.

After tummy rubs and a lot of cooing from you, the dogs follow you back towards the condo where you greet William with a friendly embrace.

William takes a moment to gaze at you; your curls are contained by a loose bun, you are dressed in a tan coloured pea coat, black turtleneck with black slacks. You managed to make clothing that were simple and understated look elegant and absolutely fucking sexy. He inhales deeply - your appearance already has William rattled.

He takes your coat and you remove your heeled boots at the entranceway. The dogs follow your every move as you scan his condo. Had it not been December and the days being so short, you could imagine how a sunny day would radiate throughout the place from the large windows and glass balcony doors from the living room.

“This is really beautiful, William. Such a fantastic part of the city too,” you said smiling, your eyes wide and shining.

“It’s small, but I’m on a waitlist for a larger place up on the penthouse floor. It’ll be better when my family comes to visit…so they don’t need to crash at your house at Christmas again” William laughs.

“Well, yeah…I get it but I have to say, I’m really looking forward to having them stay. It’s far too big for just me, so having some life around will be amazing. At the very least, I’m hoping someone in your family will kick your ass at ping-pong…or at any of the other games, really…” you smirk.

“Ha, yeah…never gonna happen…” William laughs.

“Ah, well…pardon me as I try to squeeze by the giant ego that just arrived”

“Ouch…hey, I'm just telling it like it is”.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Ok, King...let’s leave it there.”

The conversation and friendly banter ensues; there are no awkward moments or strained silences. The shared mood is happy and light and soul-warming, much like it had been all those years before. There was a tinge of bashfulness at times as you both would steal glances at each other. It seemed apparent that you both were still very much attracted to one another.

Prior to seeing him, there were moments that you found it annoying to still have these feelings simmering just beneath the surface, given your spirit had been shattered for much of the past four years. Nevertheless, he wasn't to blame for the anguish you shouldered…it's how life was; you caught deeper feelings for him than he did for you. End of story.

At that very moment, it didn’t matter anyway. Or at least, you were going to bury those thoughts way back in the proverbial closet for tonight.

The wine arrives via delivery, followed by dinner. You both opt to sit on the floor and eat at the coffee table in the living room, devouring the variety of sushi and sashimi pieces William had selected.

You filled him in on some of the different music and business ventures you had been a part of since COVID. He asked you about certain gigs and various celebrities, trying to get you to spill some dirt (although tempting, you did not oblige).

He in turn told you about some of his brother’s exploits with women, and you reminisced about the old days and the unhinged female drama involving Kasperi and his ex-girlfriends that you witnessed firsthand a number of years ago.

Your muscles in your face began to hurt from smiling and laughing; it’s been forever since you’ve been able to truly unwind like this. You realize that the wine is going down far too easily and you felt a little more buzzed than you should, with remnants of jet lag still plaguing you from the previous round trip from Europe.

William had excused himself to the bathroom, and in an effort not to submit to the wave of drowsiness that was creeping in, you got up off the floor and started cleaning up the containers and plates scattered around the table.

William appears from the hallway and tells you to leave everything - he will clean it up later.

“Ha – no, I need to move - I had a brutal travel schedule at the end of November and it nearly killed me. This exhaustion just strikes whenever, so I had to at least stand up…otherwise, you’re going to find me passed out on the floor. I feel like a narcoleptic lately. Plus - that wine…is really, really fucking good…I feel a little drunk,” your face flushed as you laugh.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want?”

You hesitated as waves of nostalgia and cautiousness, in equal measure, washed over you. “Are you sure - I wouldn’t want to cramp your style…”

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out some musings - or misgivings rather - about his current love life that had been bouncing around in your head.

“I’m sure your dance card is pretty full these days…maybe you’ve got a young model-type waiting for you later somewhere?” you try to joke as you rinse off the plates and stack them in the sink. Your fear that he'll see right through your comments as you look for some clarity on his current love life.

William chuckles and shakes his head; he knows this is partly because of what has been stirred up about his personal life during the Sweden trip.

Touch her. Hug her. Kiss her….do something William thinks.

“I’m positive…I really like this…us hanging out, you and me again. And…please - stop cleaning up” he laughs.

William offers you a small towel and helps you dry off your hands. He smiles as he gazes at you.

“It's really been amazing to see you,” William says softly.

You're certain that the surface temperature of your cheeks are reaching five alarm status as he pulls you closer against him as he leans against the kitchen counter. William feels your light touch as your hands gently lay on his chest.

He searches your face. “And we haven’t really talked about the stuff from before - with what happened with you and me. Do you think maybe we should?” William asks quietly.

You can only manage to look directly into his eyes for brief moments; anything longer will make you crumble.

“I think we can shelve it…it’s not going to change anything that happened before. It’s been such a fantastic evening already…I don’t think we should spoil it by dredging everything up from the past.”

You stare at the thick chain around his neck using it as your main focal point.

“Yeah, ok…you’re right. It doesn’t change anything that went down.”

You nod your head and look up at his face, blushing more heavily as you try to contain your wide smile.

Your head is swimming but your need to be in control of your emotions takes hold, and you apologetically excuse yourself and head to the washroom. William just smiles and lets his hands slide down your hips as he releases you from his embrace.

You try to stabilize your heart rate and your thoughts. Your desires versus your logic are each trying to get the upper hand in your mind. You take your time, willing yourself to sober up a bit before heading back out to William. You drink some water from the tap to try and dilute the effects of the alcohol you’ve consumed. You study your reflection in the mirror and after repositioning a few curls here and there and applying a little more lip gloss, you exit the bathroom.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door spurring the dogs to start barking. You hear William pad over to the entrance and pause for a moment before turning the lock and opening the door.

You hear a female’s voice shriek “Willy!! Heeeey….I missed you so much”.

You can hear the sound of bracelets clinking as the woman wraps her arms around William, followed by an audible kiss. It's crystal clear that she currently has something going on with William.

You hear the dogs muffling whines once William gently commands them to quiet down.

You stop dead in your tracks, feeling completely trapped. Part of you wants to return to the bathroom and not hear any of their conversation. The masochistic side, however, wants to hear every word.

Your brain begins to spiral out of control.

How did you manage to misread this situation again? What was that in the kitchen….was it meant to be platonic? Would he invite you here just to tell you about her?

It feels like a literal punch in the stomach, and you instinctively place your hand over your abdomen as though it would help numb the ache coursing through your body. You stand in the hallway, completely motionless as if your feet were concrete blocks.

“Trina, what are you doing…I mean, how'd you even get in?”

“I dunno, the security guy and the other one were dealing with somebody, someone else was leaving, they held the door, so…we just walked in. Oh, this is my best friend, Lara. I told her how fucking amazing our first date was. She's a fan of yours too. We were out for a few drinks and I thought the two of us could come by to help you feel better. You and I haven’t seen each other since the last time….I know you said not tonight but here we are,” Trina giggled, her words slightly slurred from intoxication.

Lara glared at her friend. Trina had said William was ok with them coming over anytime she wanted, and she claimed he would be game for anything they wanted to do.

William’s present demeanour is definitely contradicting Trina’s story.

For years now, Lara, being the pragmatic one of the two, had been suspicious of how much truth was behind Trina’s claims when it came to the men she had met and dated. True, William and Trina had sex; that much was obvious. However, based on the number of times Trina initiated contact versus William, Lara surmised William might be only willing to meet solely on his whim, given the tone of his short and dry text messages that Trina showed her. Trina was too wrapped up in all the media attention William had been receiving lately to even notice the bland tone behind each of his responses.

When Trina and Lara arrived at Mademoiselle that evening, Trina was clearly on a mission, ordering multiple Perfect 10 Martini’s because, in her inebriated words, she was exactly that. Her mission was to make sure William felt that about her too.

When Trina came up with the brilliant idea of dropping by William’s in order for the two ladies to seduce him and coax him into bed, Lara thought there was no way she was being serious. Lara allowed Trina to call the shots just to humour her; she had learned long ago it was better to play along first before pulling the plug straight away on Trina’s antics. If Lara was being honest though, the exciting flipside of this situation is that if she was ever going to have an opportunity for her first threesome (and if he was truly willing), it might as well be with William Nylander.

As Trina continues to ramble about their evening and some explicit ideas she has for the hours that lie ahead, Lara scans the scene in the living room. Her heart drops when she realizes William is not alone. First she spots two wine glasses - William had filled up your glass while you had stepped away to the washroom. She looks over to see your Louboutin stiletto boots placed off to the side. Then your jacket. She glances at William and can’t quite determine what emotion has registered on his face.

“I….I’m sorry William - I didn’t know you told Trina not to come by tonight” Lara interjected. William looked toward Lara and verbally confirmed, he definitely told her not tonight.

“I have a guest so it would be better if you both just head home” William said calmly.

Trina’s eyes suddenly widened. “A guest??” Trina's voice is raised as she emphasizes the last word. “Do you have another girl here tonight? Where is she? So…what - is she fucking HIDING? Come on out, bitch…let’s see you - I guarantee it, you got nothing he wants” Trina yelled into the air as she looked around the space.

“Alright - enough…you need to leave or I’ll fucking calling security…” William's jaw was clenched as he warned Trina and Lara.

“No - please William, I’m so sorry…we’re leaving. I'm so embarrassed - she said we could come by.”

Lara grits her teeth when she looks at Trina. “You…we’re going….NOW…”

Lara grabs a hold of Trina’s trench coat and half guides but partially shoves her as she stumbles down the corridor. Lara’s voice was a low growl as she berates her until the elevator arrives.

William watches the two girls vanish around the corner to the elevator, hearing the chime as it arrives on his floor. He steps out of the doorway into the hall making a call down to security to ensure they have exited the building. Sometime soon, William will have to go down and find out how they got in from the get go.

He stood there, exasperated as he rubbed his forehead as he re-entered the apartment. The dread of facing you now is creeping into his mind. William is genuinely worried that the fallout from tonight’s events is that you won’t want anything to do with him going forward.

Indeed, that was one of the many thoughts going through your mind. You knew you were judging him and his lifestyle, and you knew you had no right to do so. Just because you chose to abstain from casual sex or any kind of relationship for all these years, certainly did not mean he had to do the same.

You’ve known all along that he was super popular with women. He didn’t have to do much to have girls reaching out to him in droves. Through various means, you also knew he took advantage of his popularity, with being spotted out and about with a number of gorgeous girls over the years.

However, acknowledging reality in theory and seeing it first hand was completely different.

As you stood there listening to Trina drunkenly spout off details of what she and William had done previously and the plans she had for him tonight, you wanted to wretch. The worst part about it was you knew your soul that you still wanted him, but William had moved on, many times over.

You and William may have started as convenient and casual hook-ups but it never was just about sex with you. It was about all of him. No amount of time or distance or how much you pushed it down could cure you of your feelings for William, up to this point anyway.

But now, all you can feel is torment and defeat from that gut punch from the last 5 minutes. The universe had to be telling you something; the first time you spend time together after four years had passed, and within hours, he had two women show up at his door propositioning him for a threesome.

Here you stood, the week before your 31st birthday, a multi-platinum award winning musician, composer. entrepreneur, philanthropist, advocate, model, actress, and the list went on.

Yet, with all of your achievements under your belt, right now, you were just another girl in a veritable ocean of females all vying for William’s affections. If there was ever a chance that something could have transpired tonight between you and William, the moment has now been instantly derailed by some drunk girl who fucked your ex-hook-up….lover…whatever label fit.

At the end of the day, William could fuck whomever he wanted. He could do whatever he pleased with as many girls as he chooses. It’s his life… It was his decision how he wanted to enjoy his downtime and really, it was none of your business anyway.

Your sometimes passive-aggressive nature, mixed with hurt feelings, made you want to see him twist a little. As you appeared from the hallway however, his expression made you think twice about adding to his misery.

He looked completely crushed, embarrassed, and lost. “Are you ok?” you asked, softly.

“It’s more like, are you…” he said. “Y/N, I am so sorry”.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s really your fault, though…I’m assuming you didn’t know she would sneak into your building, hammered …and well, try and…” you nod your head toward the bedroom.

“Well, no…but I sorta led her on. I’m not even sure why I did…she was kind of…I dunno…like…just there” William struggled to come up with the right word.

“Available…”

” “Yeah…something like that” William confided, feeling a little embarrassed.

He pulls you towards him. “So much for the fantastic night…I guess I ruined that” he said into your ear.

Based on the looseness of your embrace, he knows your feelings have shifted. William feels horrible, desperately wishing he could rewrite the past ten minutes.

You took a step back and you could feel your expression soften. You manage a faint smile and tell him that it was mostly fantastic - even amazing - night but you could have done without the plot twist at the end.

“So….I think I’ll grab an Uber or something and head home, if you’re gonna be ok?” You paused.

No, I’m not ok. I want you to stay here, he thinks to himself.

“Maybe you should stay. Seriously, that girl - just in case she gets it into her head to hang around and watch whoever leaves the building” William says gently.

“Shit…do you think she’d stalk you?”.

“Not sure” William smoothed his hand over his beard. The last thing either of you need is to have your names splashed around the social media universe because of a drunken altercation with a girl in a parking lot, who had been recently fucked…and then slighted, by William Nylander.

You consider the options for another moment, and finally agree that it might be for the best to stay. The couch looks pretty comfortable so you offer to sleep in the living room.

William looks hurt. He wants you in his bed. The urge to wrap himself around you is almost too much for him to handle.

Given the circumstances however, he knows how self-serving it will seem asking you to sleep in the same bed as him. Despite you trying so hard to hide it, he knows you are hurt. He’s beginning to feel a sense of hopelessness from the damage that’s been done tonight.

He grabs some dog treats and tells you to just stay and try and relax while he heads out for a walk with the dogs. He wants to drop by the concierge desk and security just to make sure all is clear around the outside of the building before he ventures out with his boys.

After William and the dogs leave, you survey your surroundings and allow a release of the emotions that have been simmering just under the surface all day. Tears well in your eyes as you stare at the wine glass he filled for you earlier. You lower your head in your hands and weep quietly.

Moments pass and a blinding headache begins to form behind your eyes; the pressure making your eyelids feel heavily weighted. Between the wine and William’s unexpected visitors, the unmitigated happiness you felt only 30 minutes ago has completely evaporated. Like a magnet to steel, a force anchors you to the couch, and you can’t help but to lie your head down and close your eyes to try and get some relief.

Exhaustion eventually takes hold of you, and you fall into a deep sleep within minutes of your head hitting the pillow.

William and the dogs return after spending longer than anticipated on their walk; the one night William really needs Pablo and Banksy to do their business quickly, it took them forever to get it done.

William enters the condo in a hurried pace, only to find you curled up on the couch asleep. His heart expands and breaks all at once as he approaches you, your figure gently rising and falling with each breath.

He considers waking you up to offer his bed anyway, wanting you to have a more comfortable place to sleep but he vetoes his own thoughts, given all that has transpired.

Instead, he grabs a blanket and gently lays it over you.

It feels strange for William to leave you in the living room by yourself. He watches you for another few moments, your face scarcely illuminated by the dim light from the kitchen that he's left on for you. Desire and disappointment grip his stomach as he turns to head to his bedroom.

The next morning , you awake to something cold and wet brushing up against your face. “Pablo….down, buddy” William chuckled.

Opening your eyes, you’re initially disoriented from waking from a deep sleep. You see Pablo sitting in front of you (you swear he’s smiling), waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

A wide grin spans your face.

“Oh…sweet boy…thank you for the kisses” you softly say, encouraging Pablo to hop up onto the couch. Pablo gladly obliges and lies lengthwise on your torso. You murmur words of affection to Pablo’s face as you rub behind his ears and nuzzle him back with your nose.

Banksy comes bouncing across the room wanting to join in on the love fest.

You smile apologetically at William. “Sorry I passed out before you came back; I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open.”

“I’m glad you stayed…looked like you needed the rest. The snoring though - you sounded like a freight train” William says with a smirk.

“I’ll take my snoring over you ripping farts all night” you jokingly retorted.

“Hey…I couldn’t help that…it was better out than in. I seem to remember you laughing until you almost wet yourself…you weren’t exactly complaining”, William laughs.

“You held me under the blankets…fucking Dutch Oven - and that wasn’t laughter, that was gasping”.

William starts laughing that trademark laugh.

You roll your eyes as you smile widely at him. “Yeah, keep laughing there, chuckles. Good times”.

Yeah...they were. So many good times together William thought.

You both take a lingering look at one another, and before he notices you blushing, you excuse yourself and head to the washroom.

Every thought in your mind concerning William has shifted. Last night, prior to Trina's arrival that is, you felt a closeness resurfacing with William. The calmness he always seemed to provide to you, just naturally with his presence, had begun to return.

But now, with this new day, there's just uncertainty and uneasiness that has settled in your gut. You realize now that you don't know him like you used to. Maybe it was a stretch to think that you ever did. After all, in the three years you were involved, you only managed to string together a month here, or two months there - and then you would have to leave. Only experiencing the best side of each other; it seemed true that no two people could be more entranced with one another than you and William when you were together. But everything has changed since then and it’s doubtful that you want the same things from life.

Returning to the living area, William’s about ready to head out with the dogs. Both Pablo and Banksy run over to you, falling over each other for your attention as if you’ve been gone the whole day instead of just 5 minutes.

“I’m not sure if they love me as much as they seem to love you…I feel like a distant second to them now”.

“Awh - boys, you better go see your Dad…he’s feeling a little jealous” you say as you kiss and nuzzle the tops of their heads.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me for their walk but I think it’s pouring out there now. I might just take them to the rink and let them run around there, I guess.”

“I would have but one - it’ll kill me to walk in those things” you nod your head towards the stilettos. “And, two - I better head out…there’s a ton of things I have to get done before I leave. Otherwise, I would have loved to.”

You finished getting ready and within minutes, the 4 of you were descending in the elevator towards the main lobby. William offers to walk you out to the parking lot but you decline. Figuring his car is in the underground lot, there was no need for him to get him and the dogs soaked as the heavy December rain ensued.

“It was good to see you…memorable in the most legendary Nylander way” you say smiling.

Before he could respond, you crouch down to acknowledge the dogs, allowing them to put their front paws on your knees for more wet nose boops and kisses.

As you stood up, you could see his expression had changed. He didn’t look like his normal light hearted self. He looked weary. He looked like he had a million things to say but wasn’t able to utter a single word. Instead, he reached out and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a firm embrace. You felt his breath on your neck as he lowered his head and rested it against yours.

You pull back slightly and give him a warm smile. “I know you’re travelling too pretty soon - wishing you great games and safe travels, ok?”

“Yeah, you too. Shit - we didn’t get to talk about Christmas - the family coming - or anything like that though…”

“I’m in contact with your parents about everything - someone is bound to fill you in but seriously, there’s nothing for you to worry about. As long as you show up sometime after you fly home from Columbus, you’re golden” you say with a grin.

This time, the silence between you weighed heavily in the air.

“Ok…you better get going there, superstar. Traffic’s going to be shit…I don’t want to hear Sid Seixeiro bitching about you being late on Breakfast Television again.”

William laughed out loud. “Yeah - got a lot of flak for that one…I didn’t know you knew about that”, William says as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck

“Well, it was pretty much splashed around everywhere at the time. I couldn’t avoid it”, you smirk.

You turn to look out at the steady stream of rain and sigh; half of you wants to go with him and the other half wants to get the hell out of there, downpour be damned.

“Ok then…I’m off. See you later, boys”, you grin at William and the dogs, turning to head across the lobby and out into the miserable and wet December morning.

William heads back into the elevator, hands jammed in his pockets, feeling uneasy about how everything with you was left up in the air.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #willy styles #nylander #nhl fic #ficrec #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nylander x reader

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