#by making you miserable I mean making you do hard challenges that you will hate

[headspace-hotel]

i promised myself "before I go back to school in the fall, something HAS to get better. SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER."

and i made the appointments, had the conversations, I spent hours wringing my brain out googling discussing with friends and family, thinking of SOMETHING, ANYTHING i could approach disability services about now that my previous suggestions had been shot down, and i went there with a list and i was like "hey is there ANY of this stuff you can do to help me" and basically? No

i asked "maybe i could have few extra excused absences so I can rest when i'm overloaded" but the lady was like Well we couldn't do that because you would miss the material in class

I asked "maybe i could have limited group projects so i don't have to be working on something with 4 other people every single day because social interaction is really tiring" she was like Well we can't do it if it would change the course substantially but we can ask that professors tell you if there's going to be lots of group projects so you can drop the class

I asked "maybe i can do in class writing assignments in a separate room so it will be less stressful" she was like well what if we couldn't guarantee that another room would be available where some one could monitor you

This is after the possibility of a partial course load was shot down (i could request it because of 'extenuating circumstances' but there's no guarantee it would be approved, and anyway i don't even know if it would fucking help) and several other things

Going back to school is just weighing on me crushing me. The past two semesters I have been so unrelentingly exhausted, miserable and alone. I hated my classes SO much and spent so much time crying.

All my classes are stupid busy work , just like worksheets that are like "do all these tiny little steps" that micromanage you painfully as if you can't be trusted to have your own independent thoughts" while the professor sits on their phone.

The grades are made up of a thousand tiny bullshit assignments that you have to remember at the right time, if you know the material and even care about learning it, it doesn't even matter.

I took a PLANT science class last semester that I honest to god hated so much it took all the strength in my body to even go to class. I LOATHED it and I got a C in it even though it was highschool level crap and the assignments were so restrictive that they basically punished you for being passionate about anything, I would try to be creative or dig more deeply on things and my classmates (it was always a mother fucking group project because the professor didn't want to fucking lecture, just give us something to kill time like we were fucking preschoolers) hated it because creativity or thinking outside the box would always make the assignment harder for everyone and I would fuck up the grade and it made me feel so ashamed

Same class where the professor said "you can tell this is a peer reviewed journal article because it's written in two columns along the page" like what. What. Huh. What.

There is so little flexibility too like the requirements are so specifically made to "mold" me a certain way. No one sees anything I have already learned or is interested in my potential and ability and passion and keen interest that i HAVE IN ABUNDANCE by the way, and the classes are so boring and passionless

I approached a lady in the arts department about an independent study involving natural plant fibers but she was like "no sorry i only work with seniors and you would have to take these 2 of my other classes"

There is so much more that's stupid and dysfunctional about this college that is too specific to discuss with privacy online, but let it suffice to say that it's a school that wants the reputation of being really challenging and rigorous soooooo bad but it actually just has 1000 inflexible requirements that eliminate everyone's free time and assigns metric tons of tedious busy work, because being "hard" means our academics are "rigorous" right? but the quality of the academics is not good, the classes are not engaging or encouraging you to think more deeply they are just painful.

And no one, fucking no one in these classes is engaging with the work with any energy or passion or enthusiasm, the professors can't get a discussion going, everyone is just staring like a bunch of zombies because their classes r like the equivalent of two full time jobs so of course no one can Engage Deeply with them they have no fucking energy

the food is like eating out of the garbage. they reheat the same pieces of pizza over and over until they're like dried out and leathery like something from a pharaohs tomb. they have bagels kept in a box and they're so stale you can't even bite into them. I got sour, rotten milk from the milk machine so many times my stomach eventually couldn't take drinking milk from there at all.

i hate, hate, hate, HATE that place so much i start crying every time I try to make plans for fall because there is so little fucking joy in my life when i'm there it's like being trapped underground.

[lizzieisright]

if you wrote that backstory idk dude maybe i’d kiss you

alpha abby >>

Honestly I wrote it and for some reason it gives me Pride and Prejudice vibes idk idk

alpha!Abby x omega!reader, just two paragraphs of smut (MDNI), alpha!Abby is sweet eventually, mention of heats/ruts, written on a knee without editing, backstory for these idiots.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When Abby meets you she is baffled. It sounds incredibly arrogant but the fact that her alpha presence doesn't do shit to you offends her. Abby is not used to an omega who doesn't try to impress her and she knows she is being the worst fuckboy stereotype but it genuinely throws her for a loop. You just look at her like Abby is not, well, fucking Abby. Like her scent doesn't make you want to arch your back and present yourself for her. 

And listen, Abby is self-aware enough that she knows not all omegas will like her. It's just. It never happened before. And Abby also is not an idiot who will try to win you over or something - yeah, her ego was bruised but that was just how life is. 

The problem with this starts later, when you're paired for patrol. Abby is so used to being bossy and barking at everyone because omegas will listen and alphas won't dare to challenge her; she doesn't really care if she is being polite to you. 

But you care, judging by your raised eyebrows and angry looks when Abby gives you orders like you're her little soldier. 

And then Abby accidentally makes you absolutely fucking hate her, because she grabs you. She tugs you like a ragdoll to get you out of what she thought as a dangerous way, and she ends up with a knife at her throat. 

You look at her angrily and press your knife harder until she gets the hint, and Abby lets you go. 

"Do that again Anderson and I'll kill you. Don't fucking touch me like that." You growl and Abby, instead of being a normal person, frowns and gets aggressive.

"You were going to fall, idiot, I was saving you." Abby huffs and gets closer, daring you to challenge her. 

"I don't need you to save me." You growl in her face, not backing down, and Abby's eyes flash red, because omegas don't speak to her like that.

You stare back at Abby even though it's hard, standing up to an angry alpha with such suffocating presence is very fucking hard, but you're also very pissed off, so you stand your ground even though it physically hurts to defy an alpha, but you don't care about pain right now.

The stare down ends because there's a crack in the woods and you both get alert, looking around. You grab your knife tighter and Abby instinctively moves to shield you, but nothing comes out to attack you. 

So you finish your patrol in total silence. 

That's how you become easily the only omega in the stadium who doesn't like Abby Anderson. The fact that Abby is also extremely attractive and her scent is intoxicating only fuels your spite. The fact that her dick is so good there's fucking competitions to spend her rut with her only makes it worse. 

To be fair Abby looks miserable in pre-rut so you find some sympathy for her. But not after you hear another omega bragging about how good Abby is in bed. Then you're back to despising her. 

Abby's presence is something you have to train yourself to get used to, refusing to get under her influence, but it gets so much easier once you can let her stare you down across the room and be absolutely calm about it. Abby stares at you a lot, especially if she thinks you fucked up, but you stare back and don’t let her win this. It’s not even aggressive or challenging by this point and it feels like some kind of ritual between you two.

Abby, on the other hand, learns to be more nice to you. She is polite to you and she doesn't touch you again. Sometimes you can even have a normal conversation. You hate it, because Abby is not a total asshole of an alpha and you don’t have an excuse to be mean to her, even though you really want to - it’s the only barrier you have to keep yourself from falling for her. But Abby is genuinely trying and not because she wants to knot you, but because she can't stand having you in distress around her. 

For some reason Abby cares for you and your well-being, she wants you to be comfortable in her company, and yeah, this is weird and Abby’s never felt like that, but when she sees how your shoulders relax when she gets closer to cover you during patrol Abby feels like she won this life. 

Then your heat comes. It comes so fucking unexpected you have trouble breathing, panting and chocking on air as you desperately try to make your way to a safe space, because you know all too well what can happen when there's an omega in heat walking around. 

But it's so fucking hard to walk and you feel your slick coming down your thighs and everything fucking hurts because you need an alpha, so you clutch your knife and barely make it to some fucking corner to catch your breath. 

That is how Abby finds you. She caught your scent and all her senses went into overdrive because you're in heat and you're in distress and all Abby hears in her head is HelpHelpHelpMakeitgoawayHelp and she is making her way to you, her eyes are red because she can't fucking control it now, you're hurting and she needs it to go away and make it better-

You're sitting on the floor, panting, and you hold your knife right in front of your face with trembling hands because this is not happening. Abby smells like heaven and this is not happening. 

"Fuck." Abby sighs and she reacts way too hard to your scent, because your distress just got worse. "I won't hurt you, let me help." Abby pleads and you use your legs to get away from her, pushing yourself back into a corner but there's only a wall. 

"Stay the fuck away from me." You growl and clutch your knife harder. "Get the fuck away, Abby."

You're terrified and Abby can't handle it. She's never seen an omega in such a state, and her brain immediately shifts into protective mode. 

"I'm not going to touch you." But fuck she wants to. "You need to get to your room. I'll help you."

"No-no-no-no. Leave me alone." But you feel your arms grow weaker and the pain getting worse. 

"I'll make it better, okay?" Abby's eyes are red and you can hear it. You can hear it in her voice, what she is going to do and you start crying.

"Abby, no please, no. Don't do this." You plead her, but Abby gets closer to you anyway. 

"Relax." Abby says in her alpha voice and you immediately go pliant against your will. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel so much better, the thoughts are only filled with alphaalphaalpha and how good Abby smells and how good her hands feel on your waist and knees and you cling to her like she's a life line. "I'm not going to do anything. I'll carry you to your room and that's it, okay?"

"Alpha." You plead and bury your nose in her scent glands and Abby has to stop and take a breath and it only makes it worse because the air is filled with your smell. 

But then Abby is hit with your terrified teary eyes from a minute ago and she doesn't want to be someone you're so afraid of. So she carries you to your room and hopes your own place will ground you. 

Your place makes it worse for her though, because your scent is everywhere and you're still clinging to her and calling her alpha and she doesn't know what to fucking do.

So Abby does what humans do to cats: she carries to the bathroom and puts your head under the stream of cold water, which actually works and you spit curses at her.

"What the fuck!" You scream and Abby lets you go. You're sitting on your bathroom floor, wet and cold and angry, but your head feels clearer. You look up at Abby, whose eyes are red and she is so tense you see veins on her arms. You tense too: you have no idea what to expect. "Abby-"

"I won't hurt you." Abby growls and you search for your knife again. "I just. I can't leave you." 

And Abby looks almost guilty. It clicks and you feel affection overflowing your heart despite your better judgment - now that your mind is on heat leave you can't fight your feelings. Abby is so deep in protective mode she literally can't move because in her head she is a threat too - you knew it could happen, you just didn't expect it to happen to Abby. 

"Relax, alpha." You tell her to free her from it, and Abby relaxes immediately. "Now can you leave?"

Abby knows it's the right thing to do - you aren't even friends and you're vulnerable and she is a threat whether she wants it or not, but it still hurts. 

"Were you- did you really think I'd do something to you?"

"With alphas you never know." You answer vaguely and honestly? It hurts even more. Abby doesn't want to be that kind of alpha to you. 

What Abby can't stop herself from doing is sitting outside your door like a dog and guarding you during your heat. Your words really hit her and her instinct to protect you skyrocketed. 

And you know she is there, the heavy suffocating scent filling your nostrils as you desperately cling to your pillow, but Abby smells so strongly of protection it actually eases up the anxiety you have when you're alone in heat and you can't bring yourself to go up and tell her to fuck off.

(You're also afraid you'll jump Abby the moment you see her again because Abby is the best alpha you know and right now she is sitting outside your door protecting you)

(Abby sits there for three days and the way your scent is full of safe keeps her sane, makes it all worth it)

After that you awkwardly thank Abby and she awkwardly apologises for scaring you. The ice between you melts and now when you're paired for patrol it is actually fun. It's still strange to have Abby in constant protection mode, but now you find it sweet. 

Now you find her heavy scent comforting and safe and you seek it out every time you're close. Abby is no better, her head fucking snapping in your direction every time she smells you.

So the awkward courting begins. Abby cautiously attempts to care for you, scared to end up with a knife to her throat again, but you're actually way nicer to her now, taking her jacket when she offers, letting her carry things for you, letting her re-check your guns (after asking if she can). Abby feels hopeful. 

Abby asks you out, ridiculously nervous because you can reject her without a second thought, but you actually say yes. 

You go on a date and Abby barely keeps her hands off you, but she gets close enough for your scents to mix and you're not stupid, you notice it and snuggle into her side, rendering Abby speechless. 

She feels like an idiot around you. 

On the third date Abby kisses you and your scent gets immediately happy and you refuse to feel embarrassed about it because Abby smells the same. 

It'd been a month since you started dating and you notice how aggressively territorial Abby gets, how her scent gets heavier and how often her eyes become red all of a sudden. It means Abby's rut is close. 

Abby is exhausted and you do as much as you can to provide comfort for her, desperate to make her feel better. 

"Your rut is coming." 

"Yeah."

"What's the plan?"

"You don't have to spend it with me." Abby tells you, because she is afraid she'll hurt you. Alphas in rut are rough and unrelenting and Abby is not an exception. "Hell, I don't want you to, if it means you'll get hurt. Especially since-" Since you haven't had sex yet. 

You don't know why, but that is just the pace of your relationship and you're fine with it. What you're not fine with is Abby hurting. 

"I don't think you'll ever hurt me. I'd like to be there with you, if you're okay with it."

"You won't be able to stop me."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You smirk, but Abby's eyes turn red and you feel yourself getting wet. 

"Fuck, sweetheart." Abby buries her face in your neck and you shiver, because her teeth are close.

That's how you end up face down ass up on Abby's bed, getting fucked so hard you'll have bruises just from Abby's thrusts tomorrow, not counting her grip on your hips. The room is so heavy with her pheromones you're almost choking on it, your head is empty except for alphaalphaalpha breedmbitememarkme and Abby's low growling of "mine" at every thrust, her fangs scraping over your neck. 

And you think you can't take it anymore because Abby is relentless, she is rough, but then her grunts start to get louder and her pace gets sloppy - she is close and you spread your thighs because you know what's coming. 

Abby knots you and it's so fucking much, she is big enough as it is and her knot is even bigger but it makes you see stars and you scream her name. Abby growls into your ear and you can’t help but arch into her, submitting to her. 

Later, when Abby catches the break from being insanely horny, she assesses all the damage she did to you and it makes her sad - she doesn’t like the bruises on you. She gently kisses all of them as if she is apologising and you just bask in her touch and care, smelling so happy and satisfied Abby starts to feel better about it. 

Can you sit properly after Abby’s rut? No. Do you enjoy the sting of pain every time you sit? Yes. Does Abby follow you like a puppy to make sure you're okay? Yes.

Abby is still the same intimidating mean alpha but now you like it. Now you watch her stare down alphas who even dare to turn their noses in your direction and you get happy. Abby is possessive as fuck and she makes sure you always have her scent on you and you're no better, wearing her clothes just to make her wear it after you so Abby'd smell like you, but both of you don't rush with the mating bite until a year later when Abby is gently taking you apart during your heat and you sink your teeth into her shoulder.

You cry because you think Abby'll get mad at you (fuck you heat hormones for making you so sensitive, you get so embarrassed later), but Abby kisses you and tells you how happy you made her and how she can't wait to have you sober to give you your mark.

You carry Abby's bite on your inner thigh.

[happy74827]

I came to make present you a proposition: Gideon and Reader but they’re enemies to lovers, you know sexual tension, can’t be away from each other but are always butting heads, ironic but maybe not that ironic flirting completely over the top but neither want to swallow their pride and admit they wanna fuck

Yeah I think that’d be neat

Burning Rage

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You swear you hate each other, but you can't help but find yourselves drawn to one another, despite all the arguing.

WC: 2701

Category: Enemies/Lovers, First Kiss

I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has been HECTIC, but I'm finally getting these fics done. Anyways, you’re absolutely right. This is neat and hopefully you like what I wrote (despite the fact that I am not proofreading it cuz I’m lazy 😁)

『••✎••』

You and Gideon… well, let’s just say your first meeting isn't a pleasant one.

He was a pretentious, egotistical prick with the personality of a bag of wet shit, and you absolutely despised him.

Not only was he an asshole, but he was an asshole who had the most infuriating ability to get under your skin and push all your buttons, no matter what you did to prevent it.

The man was like a disease; you tried to keep away from him as much as possible, but if you weren’t careful, you ended up coming into contact with him, and no matter how much you washed, you couldn’t quite seem to get him off your skin.

The worst thing about it all was that everyone was in love with him. He could do no wrong, and no matter what he said or did, the people around him hung off his every word and were practically tripping over themselves to do what he said.

He was so smug about it, too, the absolute bastard. He knew he had everyone in his clutches, and he reveled in it, basking in the attention and praise he got.

The man thought he was god's gift to humanity, and he made sure everyone else knew it.

It was sickening.

You were the only person he couldn’t quite break down and mold into his perfect little doll. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said, you never gave him the satisfaction of seeing your cave, even just a little.

No, you were stubborn and headstrong, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his claws into you.

He'd be lying if he said that didn’t intrigue him.

You were the first person who had ever given him the cold shoulder, and it was frustrating him beyond belief. He'd always been able to make people bend to his will, whether it was through his natural charisma or by using the information he'd gathered on them to make their lives miserable if they didn't.

But you... You were a challenge, and he hated and loved it all at once.

It was so different. He had no control over what happened between the two of you, and while the concept was strange and unknown, he found himself becoming obsessed with trying to break you down and get a reaction out of you.

And so, it began.

The flirting started out as a joke. He didn’t mean anything by it at first. He just wanted to get a reaction out of you, see those pretty cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and hear you stutter and struggle to come up with a retort.

You were good, though; you always had a quick-witted reply ready to fire back at him, and he had to admit, it was fun.

It was a nice little game for the both of you, even if it was just to let out your frustrations with each other and try and gain some sort of upper hand over the other.

But then... The lines became blurred, and things got messy.

When you were alone, your words held more weight. Your insults weren't so lighthearted, and the way you said his name had his heart racing. He wondered if you realized how your voice dropped and sounded more breathless when you addressed him.

It was like you were whispering a dirty secret to him, and something about that excited him in ways that made him feel guilty and ashamed.

Your fights turned from petty squabbles to something that was almost... sensual in nature.

The way you stood so close, faces inches apart, the tension between the two of you almost palpable, and the way you looked at him... You were looking at him like you wanted to devour him, and that alone was enough to make him weak in the knees.

Your conversations were filled with hidden meanings and implications, and there was so much sexual tension he could have cut through it with a knife.

He was addicted, and he was certain that you felt the same way, from the way your eyes roamed his body, lingering on his lips, and the way your hands would ghost over his arms and chest whenever he was close.

He wanted you, and he was pretty sure you wanted him, too.

The only problem was neither of you was willing to admit it or give in, and so, the dance continued.

“I swear to god, Graves, if you don't quit following me around like a lost puppy, I'll break your fucking legs," You growled, glaring at the man trailing behind you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Why, darling, you know you don't mean that. After all, I'm sure you'd miss my presence and my company, wouldn't you?" He hummed, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes and scream at him.

"I think I'd be able to find a way to survive without your charming presence," You snarked, turning on your heel and facing him, "Now, go and bother someone else because I have places to be."

You brushed past him, not sparing him another glance, and he chuckled before reaching out and grabbing your arm.

"Don't be like that. I just want to talk. Is that so wrong?" He murmured, his tone low and his gaze dark.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Let go of me, or I'll rip your fucking hand off," You tugged on your arm, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp, but his grip was tight and unyielding.

"You know I'm stronger than you, sweetheart.” He whispered gently, “Don't waste your energy.”

“You—” A sharp yank cut you off, and before you knew what was happening, Gideon was dragging you away from the busy street and into a dark alley.

He didn’t let go of you, not until the two of you were out of sight and away from prying eyes.

He stood with his back to the street, keeping his eyes trained on you, and you mirrored his actions, glaring daggers at him.

There was an uneasy silence, and neither of you dared to speak, too afraid that the wrong words would be the trigger to set the other off.

Finally, Gideon sighed and broke the silence, his tone tired and exasperated, "You never make things easy, do you? Why can't you just let things be easy?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings, Sweetheart?" You sneered, and he shook his head, "Maybe if you weren't such an arrogant, narcissistic bastard, I wouldn't have a problem with you."

"Maybe if you'd just let me talk to you without throwing a hissy fit, I wouldn't have to resort to drastic measures," He shot back, and you glared at him.

"Why should I? Everything out of your mouth is utter bullshit." You stepped towards him, and the two of you were chest to chest, his head tilted down, and your eyes locked on his.

"You're so annoying," He grumbled, and you grinned, "Why can't you be like the rest of the women around here? They’re the ones with some common sense."

"Common sense? If they were smart, they'd stay the hell away from you."

"I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment," He mused. He had a smug look on his face, and you were overcome with the urge to punch him.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear another word from you."

"That's a lie. You love hearing my voice; it's like a beautiful melody. It's what keeps you going, day after day," He drawled, and you could feel his warm breath tickling your face and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “A soft lullaby, a beautiful serenade, that has the power to captivate any audience. I bet my voice plays in your dreams every night, keeping you awake and leaving you wanting more."

"Shut. Up." You repeated, but this time, your words were much less convincing, and he chuckled, his eyes lighting up.

"You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I could tell you what I know about you and what goes on inside that pretty little head of yours, but that would spoil the surprise and ruin the mystery," He leaned closer, his lips hovering above your ear, "And we can't have that, can we?"

"You're delusional, just like the idea that G-Man Media is the best there is. You're the one who has the delusion and fantasy of thinking the world succumbs to you. You are nothing, Graves; you are a pathetic, spineless, weak-minded man-child who can't even face reality.”

“Listen here, Buddy—”

“Oh, struck a nerve, did I? Do I need to remind you that no one, and I mean no one, wants to work with you? They do it because you have money, and if they want their business to succeed, they have to kiss your ass. But once that money runs out, and it will, you will be a nobody again, just like you were when you were a sad, lonely little boy, sitting in your room, crying and whining, and wondering why no one would play with you."

Gideon’s smooth expression fell, and for a moment, he was stunned into silence, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"How... How dare you!" He snarled, his voice rising.

"How dare I? You're the one who dragged me down here and forced me to talk to you when I told you multiple times I didn't want to. If you didn’t want the truth, then you should have stayed away." You spat, and he scowled, his face twisted with rage.

"You—"

"I know. I'm an awful, terrible person, but at least I can admit it. Can you?"

He froze, his mouth open, but the words stuck in his throat, and he looked away, avoiding your gaze.

"That's what I thought," You smirked, "Don't worry, Graves, I won't hold it against you.”

You took this as your time to leave. He didn’t have a comeback, and he didn't seem interested in talking anymore. So, with his head turned away and his back to you, you started to walk away.

You were barely five steps away when you felt a hand on your wrist, and your heart jumped into your throat, your fight or flight instinct kicking in.

In one fluid motion, you swung your arm around to strike him, but he caught it with ease and grabbed the other one, his grip on your wrists strong and unyielding, no matter how hard you struggled.

No words were spoken, just a few pained grunts and strained gasps and the sound of shuffling and scuffing feet as you tried to pull away and escape his hold.

But you failed and gave up when you noticed that he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Instead, he looked conflicted and lost, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions and a troubled frown on his lips.

The two of you remained in that position, standing mere inches apart; the only sound filling the air was the sound of your heavy breathing and the occasional whimper or grunt that escaped one of you.

"Let me go, Graves." You whispered, and his grip tightened on your wrists, and his eyes met yours again, the look in them almost pleading.

"Let me go," You repeated, but your words were softer this time, and your tone was less forceful and more imploring.

He didn’t speak or make a sound, but his grip loosened. If you tugged just a little, you would be able to slip free. He would let you leave.

And yet, you didn’t.

Your body was telling you to leave, to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but your mind and your heart were saying something else entirely.

His touch burned your skin, and it left a pleasant, tingling feeling wherever he touched.

You felt his breath on your face, and it made you shiver and your stomach churn as your brain tried to decipher what was happening and what it meant.

“Gideon…” You mumbled, and his eyes widened a tad, but he still didn’t say anything.

It was the first time you’d called him by his first name, and you didn't know why, but the atmosphere had changed. It was less hostile and more intimate, in a way.

"You're so infuriating," You whispered, "You're a smug, arrogant, conceited asshole, and I can't stand being around you."

"You're not exactly a joy to be around, either." He said, his tone lacking the usual venom and arrogance. His voice was soft, like that lullaby he'd mentioned earlier.

"But you're so..." You trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"I'm so what?" He prompted, but his question was more like a plea, and his eyes were hopeful and shining, a hint of something you couldn't quite identify hidden within their depths.

"You're just... So..." You bit your lip and looked away, unable to meet his intense, piercing gaze, "You're so..."

"So...?" He pressed, leaning in closer.

He was close, so close, the tips of your noses were almost touching, and the distance between your bodies was nearly non-existent.

He was waiting for your answer, his eyes searching yours, and his body frozen in place. He wasn't moving, not an inch, and neither were you.

You were at a crossroads, and no matter which direction you went in, there was a chance it would come back to bite you in the ass later on.

So, you made a decision.

You surged forward and crashed your lips against his, kissing him hard.

He was stunned for a moment, his hands releasing your wrists and his eyes wide, but after a moment, he seemed to relax and kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

It was rough and messy, teeth and tongues clashing together, and lips and cheeks being bruised and bitten, as the two of you finally let loose and indulged in each other.

You didn't think and didn't stop to consider the implications of what was happening or how things would change afterward.

The only thing on your mind was Gideon, and the way his hands were roaming your body, and the way he tasted, and the way he made your skin tingle and your insides burn with desire.

You could only focus on the present and what was happening between the two of you as his tongue danced with yours and his teeth nibbled on your lower lip, sending a pleasant shudder through your body.

He broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, and his hot breath against your skin was making you dizzy and lightheaded.

"Gideon," You whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, on the dark locks as his lips sucked and nipped at your skin, and left a trail of dark red marks in their wake.

His glasses were pressing into your cheek, and he pulled away, his breath heavy and his hair a mess.

"Hold still," He said, and before you could respond, he reached up and pulled the offending articles off his face.

His eyes were a stunning shade of hazel, and they were filled with lust and desire, his pupils blown wide and a deep, dark look in them.

You were mesmerized, and he smiled softly as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"What did I say? I knew my voice would play a part in your dreams, one way or another," He hummed, a smug look on his face.

"I will break your nose and put you on your knees.” You spoke with your usual amount of venom.

To most, it would sound like a threat, but Gideon was able to read between the lines, and with that familiar smirk on his lips, he pulled you closer, his hands cupping your cheeks and his face inches from yours.

"Is that a promise?"

[fossilfan39]

I love your modern jetko ideas :) do u have any more headcanons (modern or otherwise)? u shld write something…

Woah thank you :))))!!! I definitely want to try my hand at writing something BUT I’m shy.. so for now im posting my concepts

Jet is Not socially ..challenged.. like zuko..BUT after years of having this impenetrable mask + intensely manipulative tendencies as a means of survival, he suffered a sort of burn out. With time he more or less moved past that. Still a bit of benign manipulation, but only in the sense that he has an understanding of people in a way that easily allows him to choose the right phrasing to get his desired response. <- This wouldn’t work with zuko because he’s autistic doesn’t seem to operate using the same social rules as everyone else, so Jet would lean into gratuitous flirting and comments so sincere they almost come off as sarcastic. Attempting to charm zuko by being disarmingly genuine.

Zuko is generally miserable and hard to get along with (at least in the beginning). Jet would be drawn to him because of his scar <- “you’ve had a hard life like me trope. In my au zuko goes to an all boys catholic school, and his family is catholic. Their relationship with religion is complicated at best. it’s more of a performance + Ozai using religion & shame as a means of control. One must imagine God being a surrogate for your father when he cannot reach you. Zuko is a huge dick to Jet at the start, only because Jet lets him get away with it. Zuko’s never been around someone who allows him to take up so much space. Pushing jet away just makes him even more interested. They make me sick.

Jet would .listen to 2010s trap and hip hop, have at least one piercing, and smoke cigarettes

Zuko would listen to 90s emo. I say this because I believe URSA would listen to 90s emo. I have many modern Ursa opinions. Because I can imagine anything….

I have limited knowledge of New York/Jersey BUT☝️I know enough to know jet belongs there (or Chicago perhaps. But east coast ftw)…. He would be chinese + Italian <- inspired by natla jet actor. Adore him.

Zuko would be a native New Yorker. I find the idea of Zuko being from New York & forced to relocate to Jersey to live with iroh funny. He would hate that. He would commute to school <- I’m not sure how plausible this is. Feel free to let me know…

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Tell Me

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Karlsor's next part in Husbandry

Summary: Since he's Chaos Aligned (he'd like to argue that's grox-shit) and Not Very Chaos Twisted/mutated, he gets the dubious pleasure of being in Public Relations. (Since when do they have/need Public relations?!) Karlsor would like a refund. This is a shitty duty shift and he hates it a lot.

Warnings: Swearing. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

After following after the totally-not-scary Death Guard Apothecary Hura, and getting more explanations from his fellow Night Lords about Everything. And how Hura wasn't blowing smoke up his ass, that they really are on Ancient Terra, the information starts to sink in.

Much to his dismay, he has to be checked over by an Apothecary, and isn't it oh so convenient that Hura is right there to assess his health and what he might need. He begrudgingly allows the smug fucker to tend to him. He's given a relatively clean bill of health, which is fan-fucking-tastic.

He's sent off to the training salles to see what he's good at and other sorts of boring as testing to see where he'd fit in with the others on base for duty shifts and what not. New Postings, especially ones where your file isn't there for the Command to read, or has your current Command with you is such a pain in the fucking ass.

Some of these Chaos Fuckers are really fucking ugly to look at. And sometimes staring at some of the truly twisted one's hurts is brain, and he does his best not to look at them too much. To his greatest displeasure, he's supposedly going to be one of the more "front facing" of the Chaos Astartes in this base.

When he demanded why he had to do such an Ultramarine Fucker Job, it was said that since he lacked Chaos Mutations, among other things. He pointed out sourly that he's a fucking Night Lord and he's not an Officer, nor does he particularly care about being nicey-nice. He's not trained for it and he doesn't want to do such a shitty as job.

He Challenges the fuckers and loses. So, he has to do the shitty ass grox-shit ultramarine job of "public relations". Throne above! It makes his skin break out into hives as he scowls and stomps after the other poor bastards that were suckered into this job. He doesn't care to listen to what the Ultramarines, and other uppity fuckers say about some thing or other.

God, he hates briefing meetings. They drone on, and on, and on. Or they got interesting when Father went bug-fuck nuts and started killing people. Or one of the High Raptor Lords got stabby and then everyone was every man for themselves and trying Not To Die from The Command going bug-fuck nuts.

He rubs his face and groans a little. He's got the Curse of the Eighth quite strongly. Psyker... and trained at that. With wretched Future Sight which only ever showed him the most miserable and fucked up shit that made sleeping so hard. The Ultramarines are droning on and on and fucking on. He didn't mean to close his eyes, but he had, he's listening, but the power point presentation with the bright fucking lights is hurting his dark-adapted eyes something fierce.

He's got a fucking migraine that makes light feel like poisons and acid that drip into his eyes and across his skin. Sinking in like fire burning a corpse. He punches the asshole that jabs his side as he hisses at his fellow 'chaos' astartes that he's not asleep, he's listening to the fucker talk about some-random-grox shit that he doesn't particularly care about.

If it was truly important his Sight would be screeching at him about the danger levels. He does like that his Sight has gone mostly quiet and still. He's been able to sleep a lot better... sort of. He doesn't trust any of the fuckers in the base worth a damn, but even with how limited sleep an Astartes need, they do still need sleep.

He'd never thought he'd have to do public relations because 1) He's a fucking Night Lord. 2) He's 'pretty'. Which makes him cackle. No, he's no Blood Angel or Emperor's child. He's a survivor of Nostramo, and he's got the looks to prove it. Sickly pale skin, night dark eyes, and greasy-looking black hair that he keeps short. Also, he's got scars from previous battles that go all over his body. A few on his face, scratching up his features to make him even scarier to most base lines.

And yet, despite all that and the fact that he's a trained Psyker of the Eighth legion (which means, he knows that they think he's bug-fuck nuts) he's to be one of the front facing dip shits because he needs less warp fuckery to make it so he's more Normal and Shinier compared to others in the base... Given what he's seen of them, he can't argue as much after he sees just how twisted or 'blessed' some of those nightmare-inducing shit heads are. He still tries to argue and bitch his way out of the shit duty shift. Not that the fuckers listen to him.

He remembers hearing of one of his fellow fuckers in the Eighth legion being tortured by getting stuck in a room with bright lights constantly. For days. Throne, that sounds like a really shitty way to torture someone, especially since it didn’t cause any, or much suffering for anyone else. His hands clench into fists and then he relaxes them a bit. He wishes he could put his helmet back on as that would help filter out the light. But nooo he had to show ‘trust’ or whatever fucking grox shit the others had said… Also because he was one of the few ass holes in the Chaos Base that could take of his helmet… and all of his armor.

He wonders what sort of fucked up shit happened that being fused to ones armor did. Sounded… Horrifying, yet also comforting? Armor is a part of you. It protects the squishy bits and is almost like a second skin. He cracks open one of his eyes a sliver and notices when some base line humans show up and start chittering at them and he mentally groans about how this meeting keeps continuing on until fucking eternity. The human pauses as the Ultramarine translate what they says. Fucking perfect, until the little human stops their speech, which is going to make this at least twice as long because translation makes things so much fucking slower.

One of the other humans approaches him, which has him turn and squint down at them, and give a razor sharp grin filled with teeth as he flexes his hands. The talk at him in that same language the other human was speaking and had slowly pulled out something in a box. Which has him growling a little at them. They freeze in their movements and the eyes of all of his cousins are on him as the human unfreezes with an insulting swiftness as they open the box and he sees astartes sized strange looking google things. They were tinted, they gestured at them and then up at him.

He scowls at the room and back down at the human, slowly grabbing the goggles he puts them on and tries not to collapse into a pile of relief. Almost wanting to cry at how much better he feels now that the dreaded, hateful, cruel light is now mostly blocked because of these tinted goggles. Humans calls it “Sun Goggles.”

“Thank you,” He says to them, he means it to. He is not going to give these back and will kill someone to keep them. Multiple even.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

3AM

Prompt Day 14: Angst with a Happy Ending | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Post-S4, Self-Sabotage, Post Break-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, Eddie POV

it's all gonna end, and it might as well be my fault

Eddie can't sleep. Hasn't been able to in weeks. Not since Steve's been gone. Eddie ran him off for good this time, he's pretty sure. You can only push someone away so hard, for so long, before they actually listen and stay gone.

Steve has stayed away this time. And Eddie's been too stubborn to just call him, and say he's sorry. That he didn't mean it. That, of course, this thing between them is something real. The look on Steve's face when Eddie'd argued that this was just fumbling hands and mouths, just fucking, just bullshit, is seared into Eddie's mind. He can't see anything else but that look on Steve's face. That hurt.

That hurt, he caused. 

Just because he was scared. He pushed Steve away before Steve had the chance to leave on his own. Jesus H. Christ, he's a goddamn idiot. 

He rolls over onto his other side, and decides that's not any better, and rolls back again. He looks at the clock, and it's three a.m. It's useless. He climbs out of bed, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter. He walks out onto the porch, and lights one up. Inhaling deeply.

He looks down the street, and sees a familiar car parked along the curb. 

Eddie's barely dressed, just a t-shirt and his boxers, but he heads down the sidewalk. He leans down to look inside the car, and Steve is looking back at him. 

Eddie flicks his cigarette away, knowing he can't smoke in Steve's car, and slides inside. 

"What are you doing out here?" Eddie asks. 

"Couldn't sleep," Steve says quietly, leaning his head back against the headrest. 

"Same," Eddie says.

"Sorry for lurking," Steve says, eyes closed.

Eddie just hums in acknowledgement that he heard Steve. 

"Is this ever gonna get better? Between us?" Steve asks. 

"There is no us," Eddie says. And it's mean. Too mean. He's just tired.

"Yeah, trust me. I'm aware you don't want me around. That's a signal I actually read loud and clear." 

"Steve." 

"I know. Don't bother. I'm bullshit." 

"You're not bullshit. Stop saying that," Eddie says, cutting a look his way. 

"Then why don't you love me? Why doesn't anyone ever want me to love them?" 

All Eddie wants is for Steve to love him.

"Steve, this has nothing to do with you." 

Steve laughs, low and dry. It's cynical. 

"Yeah. It's not me. Right. It's never me." 

Eddie reaches over and touches Steve's thigh, "It's not. It's me. You're too good for me. You're going places." 

Steve laughs, a little unhinged. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"But you could. You should. Run. Flee. Get out of this town and never look back." 

"Well, that's not happening. So, I guess I'll just stay here and be miserable. And you can stay and be miserable, and we'll both just be miserable."

Eddie hates to hear Steve sound this weary.

"You don't want me," Eddie says.

"You're all I want! How do you not know that?" Steve yells in the confined space, scrubbing his hand over his face, pinching his nose. He's worn out. Exhausted. Eddie can tell, and he hates it.

"Steve, I don't-"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have been out here. You don't have to talk to me. You don't have to do anything with me," Steve says, turning the key over, bringing the engine of his car to life.

It's Eddie's cue to go. Eddie knows that, but he can't seem to make himself budge. He thinks if he does, that this might be the last time he ever sees Steve Harrington.

And as much as Eddie doesn't want to drag Steve down with him, he can't seem to let him go. Not again.

"Steve," Eddie tries again, and Steve's put the car in drive and has pulled up the few feet to the little house they moved into after the trailer collapsed into that split in the earth.

"We're at your stop," Steve says, eyes forward, not looking at him.

"I just want-"

"Either get out now, or I'm leaving and you're coming home with me."

Eddie crosses his arms, not reaching for the door handle, and true to his word Steve pulls away from the curb. 

It's a quiet ride back to his big, empty house. When Eddie gets out, he's acutely aware he's in his underwear and has no shoes. But he follows Steve into the house, and straight up the carpeted staircase. 

Steve pushes open the door to his bedroom, and starts undressing. Stripping down to his underwear, crawling in bed. 

That's when he finally looks at Eddie, and stretches his arm out. An open invitation. 

Eddie takes it.

He slides into bed with Steve, and buries his face in Steve's chest. Steve wraps both arms around him, and holds him close. Resting his chin on the top of Eddie's head.

"Are you done being an idiot?" Steve finally asks. Soft and quiet in the darkness.

"Yeah," Eddie says, because he is.

Eddie's quiet for a few seconds, then laughs, "You kidnapped me."

"Guess you shouldn't get into cars with strangers, then," Steve says, teasing, pulling him closer, "See you in the morning."

And Eddie knows it's Steve's way of saying Eddie better be right here when he wakes up. Eddie understands that fully, and he will be. He's done running. He loves him too much. Even if deep down, Eddie thinks Steve would be better off without him.

Eddie's eyes are heavy, the lack of sleep hitting him hard. He closes his eyes, and that's it.

The sun is streaming through the windows, and right into Eddie's eyes. He whines, and rolls over, cuddling against Steve who is still sleeping through the onslaught of sunlight ushering in the brand new day.

They have a lot of things to work out, Eddie knows that, but he is also certain that he never wants to run from Steve Harrington.

Notes: Title and lyric at the top is from Matchbox Twenty's song 3AM. Thank you Spotify for feeding this to me when I didn't have an idea for this prompt, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[hard-core-super-star]

Hey, I have a hailee steinfeld x reader request:

Reader is Chris Hemsworth's cousin (meaning she's aussie.) And she is dating Hailee Steinfeld. (But the relationship is a private relationship.) She plays Spider-Woman in Hawkeye and Kate Bishop's love interest. So, in an interview for ATSV, they talk about Readers Spider-Woman making an appearance in the movie.

karma is the girl on the screen coming straight home to me [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x hemsworth!reader

summary: having to do interviews with your girlfriend comes with its own set of challenges. thankfully, you always have each other's back.

warnings: none, just fluff with a side of plot; abrupt start and even more abrupt ending; light mentions of anxiety

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this request spent almost a month in my inbox and i am so sorry for that. i hope you like it despite the long wait!

* * * * * * *

You look up from your phone at the sound of footsteps approaching. There’s no way to hide the smile that spreads across your features once you catch sight of who’s walking toward you.

“Don’t tell me you started missing me already, Steinfeld.”

She rolls her eyes affectionately at the use of her last name, an old habit that still lingers between the two of you sometimes. “You wish, Hemsworth. Just came to tell you we have five minutes before the interview starts. Wouldn’t want you to be late. Again.”

“That’s a low blow. You’re the reason I was late last time.”

“Weird. I don’t remember it like that.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You reply, attempting to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

She takes a quick look around before reaching out for your hands. You welcome the physical affection a little too eagerly for someone who was trying so hard to make fun of her a few seconds ago. If she notices, she doesn’t comment on it, clearly just as starved for contact as you are.

As much as you love being a part of interviews and getting to talk about projects you’re passionate about, you hate how little time you get to spend with Hailee. At least when you did the Hawkeye press junket you got to do almost every single interview with her due to the curiosity and impact of your character’s developing relationship. This time, however, your role has been the supportive girlfriend.

Despite the excitement from the fans about your character making a not-so-secret appearance in Across the Spider-Verse, all the journalists seemed to prefer to steer clear of having both you and Hailee in the same room to avoid being responsible for accidentally outing you. Just because your relationship is of a more private nature doesn’t mean either of you is doing a great job at keeping your obvious feelings in check.

Hence why it was decided you wouldn’t participate in many interviews. The last thing you need is another nepotism scandal.

“You nervous?” She asks, her previous teasing tone disappearing into thin air once she notices how spaced out you seem to be.

You shake your head in response almost as if that will get rid of the worries lingering in the back of your mind. “Me? Of course not, what’s there to be nervous about?”

She laughs, the sound soft and sweet. “Right. Well, since you’re not nervous then I guess you don’t want a kiss for good luck…”

“You’re a cruel woman, Hailee Steinfeld.”

“Just the way you like it,” she replies with a wink.

She starts to walk away but you pull her back toward you before she can get too far. You know you played right into her hand when you catch sight of the growing grin on her face but you’re too happy to care. You wrap your arms around her neck, careful not to mess up her hair, before connecting your lips in a slow kiss.

Her hands land on your waist long enough to pull you flush against her in an intimate embrace. Time seems to slow down to a crawl while you both relish this brief moment of affection.

It ends too fast for your liking and you have to swallow back your complaints, knowing it’s just a matter of time before people from both of your PR teams start looking for you. “We’re not done here. Just so you know.”

“Trust me-” She gives your lips one last peck before she steps away from you. “I know.”

You let her walk away first, taking a moment to thank the universe for bringing this woman into your life before following after her. You quickly arrive at the interview room and go through all the formal introductions before taking your seat next to Hailee. She shoots you a quick smile that you waste no time in returning.

The next few minutes pass by in an exciting blur of people setting up all the microphones and cameras and it’s not until the interviewer sits down in front of you that your previous nervousness rears its head again. You try to tell yourself you’re worrying over nothing but almost every interview has gone the exact same way since you joined the MCU. The only thing that brings you some reassurance is that Across the Spider-Verse is something completely different and can’t be linked to your last name. Unfortunately, that leaves the door right open for a different set of accusations regarding the brunette sitting by your side.

The interview starts in a very standard way with the first few questions being the same opening questions you’ve gotten in every other interview. You don’t really mind but you do wish people could come up with something better than,”How excited are you about this movie?”

Your complaints fade away once you’re forced to focus on the next batch of questions. “So, y/n, this was your first time doing voice acting for a movie, how different was portraying Spider-Woman in this way compared to Hawkeye?”

You give a pretty ordinary answer, waiting until you’ve fully answered the question to add in a comment that you know will be floating around your Twitter feed for most of the week. “And I definitely had to tone down my flirting this time around.”

“Was that hard for you?” The interviewer replies, not so subtly straddling the border between keeping the conversation flowing and pointing out you and Hailee’s closeness.

Your answer comes with its own set of badly hidden romantic undertones. “I mean, have you seen this woman?”

“Way to keep it professional, y/n,” Hailee says, her smile obvious in her tone.

“I just have too much charm to keep contained, darling.”

You turn your head just enough for your eyes to meet hers. A charged moment of silence passes before she looks away, muttering something about how unbelievable you are through a soft chuckle.

You almost forget where you are until the interviewer speaks up again and brings you right back to reality. “The internet certainly agrees with you, y/n. Apparently, you take after your cousin.”

“Which one?” You joke.

You can already tell where the conversation is going to go but you do your best to appear unbothered.

“Oh, you know, tall, blonde, also an Avenger.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes but the shift in your posture doesn’t go unnoticed by Hailee. It never does.

“Right, that one. Annoying fella, isn't he?”

It’s easier to mask your annoyance as playful teasing if you direct your energy toward your cousin and not the interviewer in front of you.

“So annoying,” Hailee joins in, making a show of mimicking your accent.

You shoot her a brief but grateful smile. One she returns with the smallest nod of her head, almost as if silently telling you she’s got your back. And you don’t doubt for a second that she does.

Unfortunately for the two of you, your attempt at changing the topic of conversation goes completely ignored by the interviewer. “Still, it must be great to have support from your own family when it comes to projects like this.”

“Yeah, it’s always fun to remind Chris he never got his own show.”

Hailee makes a face at your comment and you can already imagine the “Memefeld” tweets it will create. “Technically the show isn’t yours.”

“It’s not yours either, there’s still two Hawkeyes.”

“I…yeah, okay, you got me there.”

“So, the criticism doesn’t bother you?” He continues. “It’s hard to deny the connection between your recent projects and the closest people in your life.”

This time Hailee’s the one who stiffens up and, despite the way your heart flutters in your chest at her protective nature, you decide to reply before she gets the chance to. “I appreciate people’s concern but I think they’re overestimating the importance of my personal life and greatly underestimating my talent. I’m not really bothered by it, I just ignore it, to be honest. Call it taking a page out of Taylor’s book.”

You turn to look at your girlfriend with a subtle smirk on your lips. She already knows exactly what you mean but she plays along with you anyway. “Which one? Shake it off?”

“I was thinking of Karma but sure,” you say with a shrug. “Except for the ‘guy on the screen’ part.”

Even though you mumble the last part, you know the microphone picked you up loud and clear. If your choice is between nepotism scandals and dating rumors, you’ll take the dating rumors any day. Hailee’s team probably doesn’t agree so it’s a good thing your agent is the one in the room and not Hailee’s.

Almost as if on cue, she steps in with a random excuse to end the interview. You don’t really pay attention to whatever words get exchanged since you’re too busy admiring your girlfriend.

You can already imagine the tweets and the headlines this interview will create but you don’t really mind. All you really care about is getting to go home with Hailee.

[onthinice-k]

Little Do You Know - F. Andersen

It’s finally done! This fic was written for the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston and is for @mp0625. It was a nice challenge to write a reader insert for the first time, I had a lot of fun creating this story and I hope you enjoy readiit just as much!

Also, everyone be warned, I didn’t look at a single calendar or any actual game scores. I just did what felt right and hoped for the best. Also, don’t think too closely about the reader’s job. I have no idea how it actually works, I just put a lot of imagination and confidence into writing it. There also is a guest appearance of Seth Jarvis.

Summary: Suddenly working for the Carolina Hurricanes wasn't how you'd thought your year would end. Everything that followed was just as surprising.

Pairing: Frederik Andersen x f!reader (no mentions of y/n)

Words: 11.9k (I’m sorry, this was planned to be like 3k words at most?? I have no idea what happend)

Warnings: a few swear words? Reader is described as shorter than Freddy, otherwise no physical descriptions. It might sound just a little angsty at the beginning, but it's really not; mostly fluff and maybe some light hurt/comfort

.

.

Jane's grin should have been enough to make you suspicious.

It was one evening, after another long shift at work and overtime that you would probably never see the pay for.

Even without looking at her, you knew the look Jane would give you. One of those pitying ones that made you a little more defensive than you should’ve been - a constant reminder that perhaps the year hadn't exactly been perfect.

But that didn't automatically mean Jane was right. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, you had once tried to tell her once. You were happy. No, really.

Sure, the breakup at the beginning of the year had been long and accompanied by a lot of shouting and tears. At the beginning you had been so sure that he was the one - only to be disappointed once again a few months later. But you could always use that as a learning experience, couldn’t you? Jane didn't know what she was talking about when she’d said that you seemed lonely sometimes. Better alone than with the wrong person, right?

And sure, the water damage to the apartment wasn't ideal either. But at least the only thing that couldn’t be saved was the kitchen. Everything else just needed time to dry and, well, maybe a new coat of paint. Two weeks later you had managed to find a new place to move into with your best friend, Jane.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong about your job being more than miserable. Seemingly endless overtime and the salary just enough to make ends meet.

Maybe Jane had a point, even though you hated to admit it.

You weren't unhappy per se. But maybe, just maybe, there was still room for improvement.

And now it was December.

Jane had gotten a telltale glint in her eyes when you both realized that. Less than four weeks left to end the year on a good note.  Or maybe you should just wait for the next one and hope it’ll get better. So, with a shrug of your shoulders, you'd put the thought aside for the moment.

Her grin should’ve made you suspicious. But instead, it was already forgotten by the next morning.

–   

"Jane!" Your voice was far too loud considering she was sitting barely a meter away.

"Hm?" Jane looked up from her book, confused, maybe a little worried. You weren’t paying enough attention right not to get a good read on her expression.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Even after reading the text for the third time, you wanted to pinch yourself. Hard. This had to be a strange dream.

The words blinking up at you from the screen seemed unbelievable.

"Did you- Did you submit my application with- to the- the Carolina Hurricanes?!"

Jane seemed to process your words in her head. Then understanding began to spread across her face.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, but no words came out. You didn't even know what you would have, should’ve, said. What was a normal response in this situation?

Jane straightened up a little and leaned toward you. She was looking over your shoulder at the laptop.

"Oh, they were faster than I expected."

"How... What..."

Sure, you'd complained to her just the other day that the youth team you'd applied to had suddenly realized they didn't have the budget for a full-time position after all. The interview at the equipment store on the other side of town left a lot to be desired after their first question was how much overtime you could put in per month.

But this? You’d never have expected that.

"Are you crazy?" Your voice was still unexpectedly shrill.

“It’s not a rejection letter”, she sounded a little too proud for your liking.

You squinted your eyes at her.

“Then I would’ve killed you. After burying myself out of embarrassment.”

"Oh, come on. You have to admit, it sounds perfect for you," Jane simply shrugged her shoulders. Leaning back again, she looked a lot calmer than you felt.

Nevertheless, you did have to admit that it sounded almost perfect. Often you had helped out with the equipment in small teams in the past and had always enjoyed the work. It was close to the action without being in the foreground.

But still.

"I can't believe you." You slumped back against the couch and ran your fingers through your hair. "This is crazy. You’re crazy..."

Jane sighed. "Hey, if you're not interested, don't answer." Then she turned back to her book.

She made it sound so easy.

"I didn't say that!" you defended yourself immediately.

Jane snorted, then at least a brief twitch of the corner of her mouth.

–  

Your hands were shaking as you pushed open the nondescript door. It had all happened so fast.

Someone had called you the very next morning.

It was all so unbelievable that you could barely remember the phone call.

 "It's a temporary position, but it needs to be filled quickly," the man on the phone had said, that much you could recall - immediately followed by the question of when you could start.

Apparently, someone had gotten sick after they were already understaffed and so they urgently needed someone to fill in.

Your experience at the small hockey center in your hometown had probably paid off after all. While growing up you had helped the coach, who trained the children’s hobby group, with the equipment.

In return, he always gave you old skates and sticks that were once forgotten by someone and never got picked up so you could try them out during your own team’s training.

Maybe they also decided on you because they just didn’t have many applicants with previous experience of any level available at such short notice. But who knew. And really, you didn’t really care either way.

Especially as just a few hours after the call you were now following hurriedly written down directions through the corridors of the arena that you had previously only seen as a visitor. 

Anthony, whose first words had been "Call me Tony", had been awaiting you already. His tour of the most important rooms was not only packed with way too much information but also constantly interrupted by other people’s questions and demands.

Nevertheless, Tony remained friendly and patient with them as well as you, even when you had forgotten which direction you had come from for the third time in a row. Once or twice, he might even have stifled an amused grin.

"Let me just show you the storage rooms and then..."

"Anthony," an older man interrupted from the side. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

An official-looking ID was hanging around his neck.

Tony grimaced at the use of his full name.

"What is it now?" he asked, barely able to hide his annoyed voice under a wavering polite smile. It was the first time you'd seen Tony anything other than friendly today. It was almost weird.

The man didn't really look at Tony, but rather past him, even though the words were clearly directed at Tony. "The sticks are all mixed up." The accusatory tone in his voice was clear, as if Tony had personally caused the mess.

"We don't know what belongs to whom."

Tony sighed. "Of course, you don't", he muttered so quietly that only you could hear the words. However, the other man would have been able to see the hint of an eye roll hadn’t he turned away again, apparently to grumble at the next person.

"Don't let Mike intimidate you," Tony explained, turning back to you, "in case he ever snaps at you. He likes to feel more important than he is." He rolled his eyes with a wry grin.

Someone hesitantly tapped Tony’s shoulder. This time a young man, who looked like he'd just graduated high school.

"Sorry, I know you're busy - I don't mean to interrupt - but, uh, a strap on a goalie pad broke."

Anthony ran a hand over his forehead. "Another one? Shit."  He exhaled noisily. "That's the third one in two days. It has to be a production error. Has the manufacturer responded to the complaint yet?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Mike called impatiently for Anthony from the next room. Torn, he turned briefly at the voice, then looked back at the boy next to him. "They probably need the goalies for training right now?"

The boy nodded shyly: "They said it was urgent."

Anthony sighed again.

Then he looked at you with a wry grin: "Looks like you'll get something to do sooner than expected."

He got handed a paper from someone walking past him. While searching for something on it he continued talking.

"We only have a few pads left in stock. The new order hasn't arrived yet and we need the ones we still have for the game tonight. Do you know how to sew?" He looked up.

"A little?" Your grandparents had taught you a long time ago, but it wasn't something you had to do regularly in your daily life.

"Great, that should be enough for now. It doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it does the job."

Anthony patted you on the back approvingly. Then he left you standing alone in the hallway, his exit accompanied by another long "Anthony" yell.

You were left standing there. Uncertainly you looked at the young man next to you.

He shrugged his shoulders just as unsure. He murmured quietly: "In that room over there." With a finger, he pointed at a door.

Well, then you should probably get to work. 'That room over there' really wasn't hard to find. It was only a few meters away.

What you didn't expect, however, was to almost walk into a huge man as soon as you entered the room. You always knew that hockey players tended to be quite tall, but it still took you by surprise.

You had to tilt your head back to look the man in the face. Of course, having lived here long enough you knew all the players on the team, at least by name. You weren't some crazy fan but at least invested enough to watch the games whenever you had the time. For your last birthday you had even gotten tickets to watch one live in the arena. It had been great.

Now you were faced with a certain goalie. Stubborn ginger strands fell into his face, his cheeks slightly flushed from training or the cold. Television did not do him justice at all.

Stay professional, you had to order yourself. This was your job. You couldn't mess it up, especially not on the first day.

Frederik looked up. He ran his eyes over your form for a moment. Then he tilted his head. "You're not Tony," his voice sounded unexpectedly soft.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm new here. First day today." Wow, very smooth. Good job.

If Freddie thought the same, he didn't let on. Quite the opposite. He openly watched you, his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Well, in that case. Welcome."

You mumbled a "Thank you."

A brief silence filled the room. While you reminded yourself to get yourself under control, you could still feel his appraising gaze on you - not hostile, just curious.

"How do you like it so far?" You could see little lines forming around his eyes as he smiled at you.

"I mean, a map would be helpful. All these corridors are like a labyrinth," you tried to joke.

Freddie laughed. "Oh yeah. You don't want to know how many times I got lost in here at first."

Maybe he was just saying that to make you feel better. However, you decide not to question it and just let the words calm you down a little.

"Are you almost done?" a woman poked her head into the room. Her stern features were emphasized by her narrow glasses. She reminded you of a strict principal scowling at running students.

You were almost certain you'd seen her in the corridors earlier today. Maybe Tony had told you her name and position, but if so, you'd already forgotten again. For the first dozen names you had made an honest effort to memorize them. The numerous ones following after that were buried in the sea of information that had poured in on you in a very short space of time.

"Oh yes, almost done," you grinned at the woman as convincingly as possible.

With a skeptical look, she let her eyes wander back and forth between Freddie, you and finally the pad, still hanging down loosely on his leg.

"Hurry up”, she ordered. You nodded dutifully.

When she had disappeared again, you breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes had literally bored right through you and left you feeling a little uncomfortable. Freddie had squirmed under her eyes just as much.

You didn’t want to risk her turning up here again.

"I think I'll go and get some stuff. To fix that."

Freddie nodded patiently.

Huh.

Well. There was just one problem.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they store needles around here, would you?"

Again, the corners of his mouth pulled to the side in amusement. "Aren't you the one working here?" He was obviously just teasing you, but your cheeks immediately felt a little warmer, nevertheless.

"Right."

In the end, Freddie did help by searching through the drawers in the small cupboard behind him while you examined the rest of the room.

Once needle and thread were found, the work was done quickly. The strap was tight again. It should hold on for the next few hours at least. The stern-looking woman had walked past the room a few more times – more than necessary in your opinion – as you had noticed out of the corner of your eye. However, she had not re-entered the room.

Freddie and you had had some simple conversations on the side so the work had gone by quickly. He had asked your name and where you came from.

All in all, your first job could have gone a lot worse. You were almost a little proud of yourself.

Maybe this was all quite doable after all.

-

It was terrible.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd walked so much, feeling your feet ache with every more step you took. By the time just half of your shift had been over, your legs were already heavy.

Once the game had started, the processes seemed a lot more structured.

The rather hectic running around of the afternoon was replaced by a lot of counting and carrying things from one place to another.

With all the work, you almost missed the end of the game completely.

However, the disappointment was hard to miss. It put deep creases in everyone’s faces; reflected in the way shoulders slumped and voices were muffled.

Losing again after a long winning streak probably always hit everyone hard.

Tony and you got handed the equipment to be washed and dried.

At least one thing hadn't changed though. All sorts of people still wanted something from Tony. He had mumbled to you "I'll be back in a moment", only to definitely not come back after a moment.

Afraid of getting lost for good, you decided to wait here for him anyway.  

Everyone around you seemed to have clear tasks that they were silently following. It was almost strange to see the corridors so quiet, in contrast to a few hours earlier.

No matter where you stood, you had the feeling that you were interfering with the routines of other workers and so you gradually ended up further and further to the end of the narrow hallway. Not knowing exactly where you were was nothing new today. However, this time you were pretty sure this corner hadn’t been in Tony’s tour. 

One by one, players came around a corner. They walked past you individually or in small groups. Very few of them probably really noticed you. Their mood was also noticeably subdued.

You weren't entirely sure whether you were happy to see Freddie again as he slowly stepped around the corner, or whether you would’ve preferred not to see the disappointed look on his face.

You gave him what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

For a brief moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, a hint of a crooked grin as he had almost passed you, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again.

He exhaled forcefully. The heaviness in his eyes returned.

With a long breath, you watched his slowly shrinking figure.

No longer could you stand being in the hallway. You had seen enough disappointed faces for one day. A door caught your eye. It was held open by a chair jammed into the doorway. The cool light falling through the opening was brighter than the ceiling lights.

You dared to take one last look over your shoulder, Freddie had already disappeared from your view. And there was still no sign of Tony. So, you crossed the corridor with slow steps.

The door led directly to the spectator stands. It had apparently been opened after everyone had left the arena.

You let yourself fall against the door frame.

After a quick glance over the seating area, your gaze fell onto the ice surface. Your heart ached in your chest. Before, you hadn't realized how much you missed being on the ice yourself - or you had successfully pushed it to the back of your mind. Only now, when you were so close to it, did the longing come back to you in full force.

"Do you have skates?" The voice so close to your ear made you jump. Lost deep in thought you hadn’t noticed when Tony had appeared next to you.

"What?"

"Do you have skates," he repeated more slowly, "I have to be honest. I'd be a bit disappointed if I had to find out like this that you don't own any." He flashed an amused grin at you.

You frowned. "Yes, of course. I mean, I have relatives in Canada. They'd probably disown me if I didn't."

"Then what's stopping you from taking a few laps on the ice?"

He shrugged as if it were that simple. It couldn't be that simple.

"What? But no, I can't do that..." You found it difficult to find the right words. You didn't even know what you were trying to say yourself.

"The way you look at the ice longingly, it'll melt away otherwise," Tony teased.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "No, but really. Is that allowed?"

"Yep," Tony pointed over his shoulder. "Back there on the list are the times when the ice is free. As long as you don't mind the ice not being fresh, of course."

You could hardly believe what Tony was telling you. There was actually a possibility that you could skate on the ice? It’d been so long since you had skates on your feet. It’s been even longer since you’d last held a hockey stick.

When you thought about what it would be like to practice again after so long, a yearning overcame you.

"Nobody else usually uses it on Mondays and Wednesdays." Tony gave you a significant look.

-

The ice had obviously been heavily used. It couldn't have bothered you less.

The first step on the ice was shakier than you expected. And it still felt so relieving. Like rediscovering one of your favorite childhood sweets years later. Or finding change in your pockets that you’d already forgotten about.

Your face beamed with joy, becoming more relaxed with every step. After two laps around the arena, it felt as familiar as before. Your chest rose and fell at a fast pace.

Even after another ten minutes, you were still alone on the ice. When Tony had said no one else usually used the free ice time on Mondays, he hadn't been exaggerating.

You were still a little unsure before, but now you took the stick you had brought with you and a few pucks that were still in a bucket on the side from the last training session.

The last time you’d played hockey was even longer ago than the last time you’d skated. So, it wasn't surprising that you missed the net a lot the first few tries. The times you did hit the goal, however, felt all the better.

The skillful shots from your youth, when you still had time to go to training regularly, no longer worked nearly as well. In the past, you could’ve done them blindfolded.

Adult responsibilities however got in the way at some point, so you were glad that you were still able to attend a hobby group at least once a month until last year. And it paid off. After a short time, the stick no longer felt so strange in your hand. Maybe Hockey was a bit like riding a bike. You would never quite forget how to do it.

You almost missed the other person coming onto the ice.

Even without his number on his back, you could’ve identified him without a doubt. To be fair, there probably weren't that many people walking around in professional goalie gear. Especially those with access to the ice and a Canes logo on their chest.

Without a doubt: Frederik Andersen had just stepped onto the ice. The exact ice you were standing on.

Uncertain you looked back and forth between the exit and him. You were sure you hadn't misread the time on the list. The clock on the wall also told you that you hadn't just been here much longer than you thought.

Still, should you leave the ice? If he was here, he probably wanted to practice. You'd just get in the way.

After the game on your first day on the job, the Canes lost two more games. And as always happens, critical voices immediately got loud on the internet. Even if you hadn't looked any further, you could imagine what they said about Freddie – hopefully, he followed the media team's advice not to read any of it.

Freddie looked at you for a moment. Then he crossed the ice. However, instead of heading for the other half of the ice as you’d have expected, his path led straight into the net on your side.

Fascinated, you watched as he stretched and moved in quick order. Finally, he straightened up again, leaned forward and tapped the ice several times with his stick.

You looked at him in confusion. But when he then flicked a puck across the rink towards you with his stick, it was a more than clear invitation.

In this moment you were so glad to have had some time to warm up before he arrived.

Your first shots at the net were careful. And apparently, they were way too predictable and easy for Freddie, as he blocked each of them with ease. He didn't even look strained in the slightest.

You took it as a challenge.

The next shots were more confident. You even started to skate a few steps towards the net on each of them, instead of standing rigidly in the middle of the ice.

However, after a lost puck on the way to the net elicited a playfully disappointed shake of the head from Freddie, you made it your mission to mix in a particularly bad shot every few tries. Freddie’s reaction made it more than worth it.

If you looked very closely, you imagined you could even see the smirk under his mask every time.

In the end, you didn't know how long you’d played for.

When Freddie pushed his mask up, a few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead. His features were more relaxed than any of the last times you'd seen him here. It looked good on him.

As you went your separate ways again, he gently nudged you with his shoulder. The smile lingered on your lips for a long time.

– 

"Do you think the small suitcase will be enough for three days?"

Jane looked at you over her shoulder. "Are you going on a trip? Without me?" She clutched her chest dramatically.

"There are a few away games coming up. And I'm supposed to come with them”, you explained. Your nerves must be written all over your face.

"Not that I think I'm really going to be that much help.", you added.

You had only just started to feel like you were slowly getting used to the work in the arena. By now, you could count on one hand how many times you got lost in the seemingly never-ending hallways of the arena in a shift. Even all the tasks no longer appeared as overwhelming as they did at the beginning.

Still, it had taken you days to even come close to finding your way around the arena. Even now, you kept discovering new rooms that you had never seen before.

Now, arriving in a completely foreign arena? You'd never seen how away games were run behind the scenes. And now you were supposed to help out yourself. Over the last days carefully established routines to make work easier would have to be broken again.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot that you're super important now," she teased.

As if. "Hardly. More like the assistant to the assistant."

As you turned back to your bedroom, Jane called after you: "I’m sure it won't be as bad as you think."

Packing took longer than expected. This was probably partly due to the fact that you kept placing stuff in your suitcase just to take it out again minutes later. Should you pack a fifth sweater after all? Would one spare pair of pants be enough or maybe take the black ones with you as well?

By the time you had loaded your bags into your car, you were on the verge of being late. Enough time for you to arrive on time, not enough to get stuck in traffic or spend ages looking for a parking space.

However, you didn’t even get that far.

Your car made a tired stuttering noise before it fell silent again. The same sound was heard on the second attempt. By the third turn of the key, your fingers were already getting clammy.

"Damn it. That can't be true now." Try again. This time the engine only made a muffled scraping sound.  "No, no, no!"

You dropped your head against the steering wheel. Frustration rose up inside you.

Another sharp turn. Your hand clutched the armrest. You preferred not to look too closely at the speed limit. Jane ignored your pointed glances toward her anyway - and today, at least, you were almost glad of her habit of speeding.

The bags on the back seat were a heavy reminder in the corner of your eye.

You almost felt like you were back in your teenage years, being driven around by your parents and older friends. Then the airport finally came into view.

Jane parked and let you out. A car honked behind you. Quickly you thanked her and got out of the car.

You didn't know how, but you were still on time.

–    

After the flight, it was a blessing to arrive at the hotel room.

The room was small, had a strange orange wall color and a dubious stain on the floor that you strictly avoided stepping on. But at least you had the room to yourself. Reason enough to breathe a sigh of relief.  

In the evening, you fell into bed early, exhausted from the day. Sending a photo of your room to Jane would have to wait until tomorrow.

The next morning, you were awake long before your alarm clock. You didn't know who exactly was in the room next to you, but whoever it was had started snoring loudly at some point.

Even after a while, you couldn't fall back asleep. You were slow to pull yourself out of the warmth of your bed, but happy to escape the constant noise. So, you got ready for the day.

When you arrived in the breakfast room with a sectioned-off area for the team and players, the buffet had only just been opened. Apart from you, there was only one other person here so far, who ignored you as politely as you ignored them.

Most people would probably eat later. The game wasn't until late afternoon, so there was no rush to prepare, and morning skate wasn't scheduled for a few hours, as you’d heard.

With a full plate, you sat down at one of the many empty tables. While you ate, you checked your messages.

Jane had texted you last night to tell you that she’d taken your car to the mechanic. Already, they had sent you an email with a list of what needed to be repaired. Your hope that it would only be just a minor repair instantly vanished as you saw the length of the list.

You gulped a second time at the amount at the bottom of the mail.

Shit. That would easily consume an entire month's salary. You dropped your forehead to your hands.

"Does breakfast in general make you unhappy or is it this one in particular?" The chair next to you was pulled back. A certain ginger goalie fell into the seat.

You couldn't suppress a faint snort.

"I wouldn't count my car as breakfast," you tried to joke. Just the thought of your car made you grimace again.

"Oh," his brow furrowed gently. "That doesn't sound good?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has made a weird noise for a while now, should’ve known something like this would happen eventually. I just hoped to have a little more time before having to get it repaired."

Groaning you let your head fall into your hands again. Freddie shook his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

Then he seemed to have another thought.

“Wait, so how did you get to the airport?”

“Oh, I had someone drive me.” You turned your head to look at him.

“Boyfriend?" Maybe it was just hopeful wishing, the way Freddie's eyebrows drew down a touch further. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

"My roommate, Jane." After short consideration, you also added: “Don’t think my ex would’ve even bothered to drive me.” You couldn't see Freddie’s face at that moment as your eyes were drawn to a new incoming message. Just Jane complaining about the weather.

“That sounds like there’s a story.”

You snorted. “Not a good one.”

Freddie seemed to get the drift. He did however furrow his brows slightly and asked slowly: "Wait, how are you getting home then?"

You could almost have sworn that Freddie was sitting closer than at the beginning.

To be honest, you hadn't really thought about it yourself. "Probably an Uber or...?" you mumbled but didn't finish the thought.

Someone from the marketing team - Angela? Angelica? Angeline? - sat down on a chair opposite you.

The conversation was paused for now. Instead, the blonde woman chattered away happily as you just nodded at the appropriate times.

You hadn't noticed when the room had started to become so crowded.

–  

When they’d said: "I have an exciting task for you today", you hadn't thought that cleaning helmets would be a big part of it.

Being allowed to take on more tasks on your own was wonderful. And you were grateful.

There were various parts on a few of the helmets that needed to be replaced or checked. By itself a nice and relaxing work. However, having to polish helmets had always been very low on your list of favorite activities. And today you had to clean every single one after the repairs.

One by one, some players arrived to collect their helmets for training themselves. Others were picked up and taken away by staff on their way past. By the time the last helmet was shiningly clean, there were only three left on the table next to you, waiting to be picked up.

And, well, one of them was a beautifully painted goalie mask of a very specific goalie.

Another player came to collect his helmet. You immediately suppressed the disappointment that welled up in your stomach when you realized who was coming through the door. Or rather, the disappointment at who it wasn't.

He was friendly, exchanged a few brief words with you and finally thanked you before disappearing again.

And then, Freddie came into the room. You almost missed it over your struggle of trying to get a new rag from the top shelf.

“Let me help you”, the deep voice from behind surprised you.  

He probably could’ve stepped around you and still reached the pile of rags easily enough. However, Freddie appeared behind you, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

Even after grabbing the desired item, he didn’t step back a whole lot, stayed close. If you would’ve wanted to you could’ve taken a step to the side. There was more than enough space and even if there wasn’t you knew Freddie would’ve moved immediately and apologized if you’d asked. But you didn’t.

You stayed exactly where you were.

The air between you felt almost charged. You wanted to see what Freddie’d do. You didn’t get the chance to.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come when the door was pushed open. You both jumped.

Until now you’d only seen Seth Jarvis occasionally from a distance in the hallways. Apart from that, you haven't had much to do with him yet.

The first thing you noticed about him today was that he was already holding his helmet in his hands. It was hanging over two fingers as if he had forgotten he even had it. You dimly remembered giving it to one of the employees not long ago.

You looked down at him once with furrowed brows. The rest of his equipment looked complete too and in working order.

Freddie huffed.

Seth's gaze flitted back and forth between him and you. A far too pleased grin began to grow on his face.

For a few seconds, his gaze stayed wandering between you two.

Finally, you broke the silence when it didn’t seem as if he intended to say anything.

"Is there… A problem with your helmet?"

Seth blinked at you. Then he followed your gaze down to his hands.

He shook his head, almost confused by your question. "No, everything's fine."

Okay? Then he probably hadn’t returned for that.

"Then... Anything else I can help you with?" you continued to ask.

He looked down at himself once more and seemed to think for a moment. Freddie started to speak, a meaningful glint in his eyes: "I'm sure it isn't-"

Somehow that just made Seth’s mischievous grin reappear.

He interrupted Freddie: "Hm, I don't know," he thought slowly, "My shin pad has been kind of weird these last few days and…"

Freddie scowled at him. But Seth didn't let it bother him at all. On the contrary, his grin widened a little more.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two.

Finally, Seth concluded: "But it's not really that bad.”

So, you were back to square one.

"Then, anything else I can help you with?"

Seth’s answer came too quickly: "I guess I forgot why I came here. Can’t have been that important."

Turning around, however, took him longer than it should have, and you were pretty sure he did it on purpose. At the door, he threw another grinning look back.

Finally, you two were alone again.

You continued blinking at the door. What was that?

"I should probably see what he's up to," Freddie sighed but offered no other explanation. Nevertheless, he made no effort to leave.

Instead, almost absentmindedly he traced an invisible line in the table.

It took you a moment to notice - he lingered.

You didn't know what to do with the realization. Staring at Freddie the whole time only made you feel stranger. Whatever this conversation just was already left you almost dazed, so you picked up the last remaining helmet beside Freddie’s mask again.

You already knew it was spotless. Not for nothing had you spent so much time cleaning it earlier.

Just to have something to do, you picked up another cloth and set to work again.

Freddie watched you silently. There was something comfortable, almost familiar about sharing the silence.

When the last helmet was finally picked up by another employee, it was the signal for Freddie to leave.

You handed him his mask as well. Your fingers touched too long to be just a coincidence. It made your heart beat loudly in your chest.

For a moment you hesitated. Then you raised an arm briefly to his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck!"

Before you had a chance to regret your decision, you went back to your work.

–   

The high spirits of some of the players you spotted hours later in the hallways told you how the game had turned out, even though you’d been too busy to watch.

You didn't think Freddie would send you more than a quick smile as he walked down the corridor. Two others caught up with him. One of them, easily recognized as Seth Jarvis, and one of the rookies. Seth said something to Freddie, then pushed him to the side straight at you, laughing with one hand behind his back.

With a slight color in his cheeks, no doubt still from the game, he took a few steps towards you. Smiling, he raised an arm. He waited a moment, as if offering you a way out. Instead, you gladly took a small step in his direction.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders. You were pressed firmly against Freddie, who murmured a quiet thank you against your hair. Then, he let go of you all too quickly.

What exactly he was thanking you for you didn’t know. You also didn’t get the chance to ask.

As they passed you, the other two players behind Freddie greeted you cheerfully. You didn't even know other players knew your name. Seth looked almost as amused as earlier today.

– 

By the last day of the road trip, you could no longer stand being in your room. Something about the specific shade of the wall color made your skin itch if you looked at it for too long.

It was unexpected how much you missed home. Even after just those few days in hotel rooms.

Maybe it was having to live out of a suitcase because it wasn't worth putting your things in the closet when you might be traveling to the next city that same night or the next morning. Or maybe it was the way you were constantly surrounded by the general working atmosphere.

You couldn't put your finger on it. What you could say, however, was that you couldn't wait to get home. 

Just one last game.

After dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room. Instead, you explored the common room reserved for the team and staff.

Through the window, you could see some players playing with a ball in the backyard below. At a table in the corner, various people were playing a card game you had never heard of.

In a quiet area, you settled down with a book.

Everything was ideal for reading. It was quiet enough; the sofa was comfortable and you were wearing one of your coziest sweaters.

Still, you couldn’t concentrate on your book. Your thoughts wouldn’t calm down, leaving you feeling restless. Every few minutes you shifted in your seat.

You would have liked to fast-forward the day so that it would finally be evening, and you could go home. If it was up to you, you would have already been on a plane.

Every time someone walked past or entered the room, you unconsciously raised your eyes. And every time, you were annoyed that you had lost the line in your book again. Not that you could remember much of the story anyway. Your attention wasn't quite there.

However, it also meant you noticed when Freddie entered the room.

He stopped several times to talk to people. When he was only a few steps away from the sofas, he looked back and forth between them.

Before you could think about it too long, you slid a little to the side, as if an invitation. There was more than enough space next to you for him to sit down without you touching. However, you left the final decision to him.

You didn't have to wait long. Freddie plopped down on the couch - just a touch closer than usual, but still far enough away that you almost questioned if you were just imagining it. Not that you were complaining.

He opened the book he'd been holding under his arm.

Not exactly subtle, he kept watching you out of the corner of his eye. As soon as you lifted your head, however, he immediately averted his gaze.

Actually, you didn't want to ask. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer. What if it was a problem just you had. But still.

After another moment of thought you blurted: "Do you ever get tired of away games?"

"Huh?" He looked up, apparently not having anticipated such a question.

Well, there was no turning back now anyway.

"Like, traveling around all the time, being away from home so much?" you tried to explain.

His answer came easily. "Oh, absolutely. I used to hate it so much. Now it’s not as bad anymore. I mean, some days I would still be rather at but, ehn." He shrugged his shoulders.  

Only after a moment did you ask further, having the feeling he wasn't going to add anything more.

"Used to? What changed?"

"Mainly the team. Getting to know the people you spend the days with has been incredibly helpful. It feels less like a business trip and more like… Like a school trip when you were younger." For a moment he got a far-away look in his eyes as if lost in thought.

Your gaze glided across the room. ‘Business trip’ summed up pretty well how it felt to you. Even though you've had superficial conversations with a lot of people, you probably didn't know any of them nearly well enough to put them anywhere near the friends category.

But of course, you’d also noticed how many of the others were always planning activities in groups or just talking and joking over the meals.

You exhaled briefly.

Freddie watched you for a moment. He tilted his head, then continued slowly. His words seemed measured: “You know, the first road trip after my trade here was particularly hard."

You hadn't even thought about that. Your stomach tightened at the thought of how Freddie must have felt.

"Of course, at most everything is the same, but it still feels so- so unfamiliar. You don't know who's sitting next to whom on the plane. You don't know who's a good roommate and who might snore loudly or leave their things everywhere. And all these little rituals and changes that might not even exist at home games."

"But it got better?" You looked at the hands in your lap.

"It really does. The first few times the unfamiliarity, it's so exhausting. But with each more trip, it becomes more and more of a habit."

After a beat of silence, Freddie added slowly: "I don't want to lie to you. Sometimes I'd still rather stay at home. Home games are definitely more enjoyable, as far as that goes. But they're exceptions, just like everyone has bad days."

Encouragingly, he gently pressed his shoulder against yours. The brief touch turned into a long moment, somehow your whole sides touching. Your arm rested against his, your legs just a few inches away.

After a few moments, when he still hadn't slipped away again, you let yourself relax against him. Gradually you could feel Freddie’s muscles losing their tension as well.

"What about Denmark? Do you ever miss being there?" you asked into the silence between you. Freddie looked out of the window.  

"When I was younger, I missed it a lot more than I do now. I haven't lived there for so long now that I hardly know any different."

Your eyebrows drew together. You didn't know whether the statement reassured you or whether it made you want to give Freddie a long hug. Somehow it sounded so sad.

"I can still visit it regularly. And it's not as if my family would ever let me forget the language." He pointed to the book next to him.

You hadn't looked at it closely before. But now you noticed that the title consisted of large - obviously Danish - words.

"Just sometimes..." he shrugged his shoulders unsure. Then he picked up his book again with a sigh.

This effectively ended the conversation. You wanted to ask more, but the far-away look in Freddie’s eyes stopped you. Now you felt bad. Making Freddie sad hadn’t been your intention.

As if he could read your mind, he knocked his elbow against yours gently. You took a deep breath. Returning the gesture, you began reading again as well.

While your earlier worries had calmed down for the time being, now, with every breath you took, you were made aware of how close you and Freddie were sitting to each other.

You didn't want to have to get up again.

–   

The flight home was uneventful. A general tiredness hung over everyone.

You yawned again as you finally stepped outside into the cool night air.

The tiredness made you inattentive and you flinched when someone unexpectedly appeared next to you.

By now you didn't even need to look at him to recognize Freddie. Just his stature and the hint of ginger hair were enough.

He casually reached for your bag and took it from your hand.

Baffled, you almost stumbled over your feet, looking up at him.

"That's my bag."

"Yep," he said with a grin. He had slowed down to give you a chance to catch up. "At least I hope it’s yours and not some random one you just took."

You rolled your eyes. “Then what are you doing with it? Now that we've established that it is my bag."

"I'm giving you a ride." He stated casually, then started walking again.

If you hadn't been so exhausted, you would have at least tried to protest out of politeness. 

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but at least tease tiredly: "Maybe I've got another ride by now."

"Is that why you have the Uber app open?"

You looked down at the phone in your hands. Huh, you couldn't say anything against that.

Freddie became serious for a moment.  "Hey, if you really don't want to, I'm happy to just wait here with you until your Uber arrives. But the offer stands."

"You really don't have to," spoke the good manners out of you. Your parents would have been proud. Even to your ears, however, it sounded very half-hearted.

Freddie stopped. You almost ran into him. Since you managed to stop just in time, you were now standing right in front of each other instead. If you had leaned forward just a little, you would have been touching.

For a long moment, Freddie held your gaze.  "I know I don't have to. But I want to." The sincerity in his words made you swallow. For a few seconds, you stood in front of each other, looking at each other. You could have sworn Freddie's eyes flickered down your face for a moment.

But then he just cleared his throat and started walking again. You ignored the small spark of disappointment in your stomach.

You were sure that Freddie purposely made himself taller as he looked down at you and joked: "And no offense to you, but you're really not big enough to be threatening."

"Hey! I can be scary if I want to be."

"Uh-uh. Whatever you say."

You stuck your tongue out at him, even if he couldn't see it, as he opened the trunk.

For some reason, you had expected the car ride with Freddie to be awkward. Instead, comfortable silence spread between you. After you had told him your address, he navigated the car slowly through the dark streets.

You watched the streetlights pass by the windshield for a while.

"So, do you give all the poor stranded newbies a ride?" It could be taken as a simple joke. You tried to keep your voice carefully neutral. Still, the mood in the car shifted. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather more serious than before. It felt important.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just being helpful?" Freddie didn't even sound like he believed the reason himself. It wasn't a straight answer, but it wasn't an immediate deflection either. You could just accept this as the answer and move on, just, you didn’t want that anymore.

"Normally? Yes. But when you say it like that? Not really”, you still kept the tone light.

"Yeah... My sister is the only one in our family who is a good liar. As a teenager, I always envied her for that. She could outsmart our mother every time."

A small smile graced your lips at the story. You could literally see it in front of you, a young Freddie stammering as he tried to come up with a story about why he was home late.

Freddie parked the car in front of your house. He continued to look straight ahead. In the dim light, you couldn’t be sure, but you could have sworn his ears were turning red.

"I mean, it really wasn't a big deal. And you're not the worst company either."

"Such a high compliment," you grinned, "Not the worst company."

Maybe his cheeks had gained a little color too.

"But really, thank you, for the ride. It probably wasn’t on your way."

"It was nothing, really. And maybe it was also a little selfish." He said it into the quiet of the night as if it were a precious secret. He turned his head towards you and looked straight at you. There was warmth in his gaze, perhaps a spark of hope.

"I like- I like spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile at the words. Freddie smiled back.

Very slowly, one of his hands moved towards your face, as if he was giving you time to object. You immediately leaned into the touch as he cupped your cheek.

He stroked the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. One of your hands rested on his forearm.

"Good thing I like spending time with you too," you whispered softly.

Afterward, you couldn't remember who moved first. Freddie's face came closer towards yours. Your free hand buried itself in his shirt, the other one letting go to run through his hair.

As soon as your lips met, time seemed to stand still for a moment. You forgot all your previous thoughts. The only thing existing was the feeling of his lips pressing gently against yours.

Soon, the sweet kiss turned deeper. The angle wasn’t great, but you made it work.

When you finally broke away from each other, you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, you could feel his breath against your lips.

A small giggle escaped you. Your eyes met. It made Freddie’s smile widen, before his hand slid into your neck to pull your lips to his once again.

– 

It was pure coincidence that you had packed your skates.

After a morning of unpacking deliveries and doing inventory, you were ready to just go home and curl up on your couch. Only Sarah, with whom you had shared the work, had made it more bearable. Before, you had only known her by sight. Now you couldn't remember the last time you had made friends with a colleague so fast.

She was also the first who saw the note on your locker. With a raised eyebrow, she watched as you read it. Your expression had apparently told her enough because she didn't question your decision to stay in the arena and instead said goodbye with a wink.

The note was pretty inconspicuous.

'Meet me on the ice?’

It was the thought of who the message was probably from that made your heart skip a beat.

When you stepped onto the ice this time, Freddie was already skating slow circles across the rink. You were delighted to realize that you could be faster than him in full gear and after several hours of training.

It was a moment of being inattentive – and maybe also you getting tired after a few laps – that he took advantage of. With a gentle push, cushioned on all sides by his pads, he pushed you against the glass.

With your back against the glass and his arms on either side of you, you stopped.

"Hi." You grinned up into his face. Through the mask, he grinned back just as widely.

"Hi."

"What a coincidence to see you here."

"What, were you expecting someone else, skat?" The way Freddie emphasized the last word told you he knew exactly what that would do to you. Your heart melted.

"Writing notes. Pet names. Is this becoming some high school romance novel?"

"I don't even know what you mean, elskling." You could hear the amusement in his voice. Before you had a chance to answer, Freddie had already pushed himself away.

He positioned himself in the net and leaned down. It didn't take you that long to get used to shooting again.

–

With your skates in hand and a pleasant exhaustion making your legs heavy, all you wanted to do was grab your stuff and finally head back to your apartment.  

As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone. You only just managed to stop in time.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to still be here. Didn’t you finish several hours ago?" Tony looked down at you. In one arm he carried a pile of sticks, in the other a large folder overflowing with notes.

"But, oh wait, it's actually good that you're here."

The next words made your heart stop for a moment.

"I just need to talk to you for a minute."

When had that sentence ever been followed by something good?

You couldn't say for sure how long Tony had been standing here. Maybe he had just seen you with Freddie. Before that, you hadn't even thought about whether that was allowed. What if both you and Freddie got into trouble for it?

Or even worse. What if he found out about you and Freddie off the ice? You had only briefly skimmed the contract when you’d signed. You had been far too fascinated by this world, which was secret to every normal fan, to care about that stuff. Not that you’d even expected something like this to happen.

Now you were desperately trying to remember if there was a paragraph about whether relationships with players were allowed at all.

"I won't keep you long," Tony finally snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Brynn - that was the one who was ill. You were his replacement, I don't know if you ever heard his name." You couldn't remember it, but you'd been told so much in the first few days that you could very well have just forgotten it again.

"Anyway. Brynn will be back tomorrow," Tony's face stiffened, "So technically, we don't need any extra help anymore."

"Oh." Of all the fears that had been running through your mind, that hadn't been a scenario you’d considered. You had known from the start that it would only be a short-term job. But you’d have never expected it to be this short.

Tony smiled somberly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would be so quick."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's great for Brynn." You weren’t lying. Obviously, it was good to hear, that he was healthy again. But at the same time, knowing you’d lose your job made your heart ache. Even in the short time, you’d grown to love it.

"Yeah," Tony nodded a little absently. He looked conflicted. "Okay, so. Technically I'm not supposed to say anything yet, but... my boss is retiring in the next few weeks. His replacement should be decided by the end of the week. We've had a few conversations and let's just say... I feel like I've got a pretty good chance of getting the role."

"That's really great for you?" you said slowly. Not that you weren't happy for Tony, but your enthusiasm was limited after you'd practically been fired just a minute before.

"That means there's a job opening to be filled." He looked at you meaningfully.

It took you a moment to finally understand. "Oooh."

"Yeah," he nodded, now with a hint of a grin on his lips. "I could put in a good word."

"Really?"

Tony nodded. You had to suppress a loud cheer.  

–

It was a strange feeling. Last away games you’d wished so desperately to be home again. This time you wished you could join. Having to sit at home and having to say goodbye to Freddie sounded almost worse.  

"I'm going to miss you for the next few days."

Freddie came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you let yourself fall against him.

He looked at you questioningly over your shoulder. "You're not coming?"

Then it seemed to come back to him too. "Oh, right."

It had taken you almost two days to tell him about the conversation with Tony. You were unsure how to. Plus, an annoying voice in the back of your head that would convince you that Freddie wouldn't care at all.

In the end, you blurted it out one afternoon. In your head, you stuck your tongue out at the nasty voice when Freddie immediately took you in his arms and asked how you were doing.

Even now, he gave you another apologetic hug.

Only one more day until the day Tony would hopefully call.  

The timer beeped. Sighing you peeled yourself from Freddie to take the tray out of the oven.

You sat it down on the counter next to the first, a lot less successful attempt.

You had wanted to do something nice for Freddie, had read up on Danish pastries the day before and after long contemplation finally saved a recipe on your phone. You didn’t know how to pronounce Brunsviger properly, but the pictures had looked great and the recipe seemed easy enough.

You still didn't know exactly where things had gone wrong. Although you had assured Freddie that he really didn't have to – and really, shouldn’t – he had tried a forkful of it anyway. As expected, it wasn’t good. Still, there was a traitorous wetness in his eyes and a long hug.

For the second attempt, Freddie hadn't left your side and guided you through it.

You left some on the counter for Jane. A silent apology for the last time you’d had Freddie over. You might have forgotten to tell her beforehand.

Or maybe, tell her about this at all. There just hadn’t been a good opportunity, especially also constantly having to think about your job.

On this day of all days Jane had come home a lot earlier than you anticipated. For a few seconds, she’d just blinked at you two sitting on the couch, you with your legs in Freddie’s lap.

Then, with a tight voice, she had asked: “Do you have a moment.” Her head nodding to the kitchen.

It had made you feel a little guilty how shocked she looked. Her first words being: “Is that Frederik Andersen in our living room?”.

Obviously, she was happy for you, after the first shock wore off.

The piece of Brunsviger was gone the next morning as you brought Freddie to the door.

"You're gonna be great," you told him goodbye.

The hug was long. Neither of you wanted to be the first to leave. In the end, it was time that drove you apart. If Freddie wanted to get to the airport on time, he had to hurry.

–   

Of course, you watched the games. The first game was great, the second one maybe even better. It was also the first time since the new job that you were actually able to give the games your full attention again. Even if you hadn't really noticed it before, you had missed it a little.

You had a good time. When Freddie had a particularly good save, you wrote him a message. You knew he would reply after the game in the flustered way he always reacted to compliments.

The phone call one evening still took you by surprise. A smile spread across your face. "Hey."

"Hej."

Before you could even reply, you heard a voice in the background.

"Hey, Freddie, what got you smiling like this?" You didn’t recognize the voice but you also didn't have to in order to understand the clearly teasing undertone.

The rustling from the line told you that Freddie must have covered the microphone for a moment. The muffled words he threw back sounded a lot like an insult. The response was laughter.

"Talking to your girlfriend?" came another voice, also obviously meant to tease.

Freddie didn’t reply. You could only imagine his facial expression.

Apparently, it was an interesting one. They probably also had expected some kind of denial.

Now there were several voices talking excitedly over each other.

"Wait what?" - "Wait are you serious?" - "Since when?"

"You can't just say that and leave! You have to-"

Then the voices in the background suddenly disappeared.

"Sorry, I just need to change rooms for a minute”, he said a little sheepishly. "They might have found out that we've been talking."

"Do you mind?" You chewed on your lower lip as you awaited the answer. Freddie didn't sound too worried, but still, probably better to ask.  

"Eh, not really" Then came the cautious question from him too: "Does it bother you?"

You took a moment to really think about it. Maybe it should have bothered you. Especially considering the fact that this was still so new with you two. Still, you couldn't find it in you to worry about it right now. You were far too happy for that.

"No. It probably had to come out somehow. Even if it was quicker than I thought. For hockey players, they're surprisingly smart."

Freddie's laughter rang out from the line. It made you miss seeing the little crinkles form around his eyes. "I'll tell them you said that”, he warned.

"Tony called today."

"Tony? From equipment?" Immediately you could hear Freddie perk up.

As if you knew another Tony.

"Uh-hu. You still have space in your car for one more person?" You let yourself fall backward onto your bed as you gave him a few moments to understand what you were saying.

A few seconds of silence and then a cautiously hopeful: "Yeah?"

"Just so I’m not almost late again, obviously." The corners of your mouth slowly began to pull into a grin.

"Really? Does that mean...?" The joy in his voice only made your grin widen.

"I'm employed. Permanently this time. Not just temporary."

Even as you heard the news from Tony himself, you could barely contain your happiness. As soon as you'd hung up, you'd jumped so loudly that even Jane had come out of the next room.

"That's fantastic!"

You couldn't even put into words how incredibly happy you were just then. The only thing that would’ve made the moment better was if you could have hugged Freddie at that moment.

–  

Before you knew it, the day of the third and final game of the road trip had arrived. As you watched the game on the side while you prepared your dinner, you had a good feeling.

The first period wasn't ideal, but it wasn't disastrous either. The second period started with a goal for the Canes. You jumped up and down enthusiastically, broccoli in hand.

After that, it was all downhill. At the end of the second 20 minutes, the Canes were already 2 goals behind. Two more goals followed. Freddie got pulled in the last 5 minutes. You could almost feel his frustration through the screen as he went down the tunnel.

At that moment, you wished you could’ve been there. How much you would’ve liked to give him a hug and tell him that everything would be okay.

You hesitated for a moment before sending a text. You definitely didn't want to annoy him. A text could never really express the comfort you wanted to give him, but it felt even worse not to write anything.

You tried not to think too much about it when you still hadn't heard back after half an hour. He was probably busy with his post-game routines. After all, they were set to travel back today and arrive late tonight. Surely, he would reply on the plane.

–  

It was pure coincidence that you were looking at your phone at that exact moment. Of course, you hadn't been checking for new messages every 5 minutes all evening. Who would do that? Definitely not you. (There were at least 6 and a half minutes on average between each time you checked your phone.)

So, it was definitely a complete coincidence that you were able to read the text the minute it flashed up on your phone.

It was just two short lines. An address.

It wasn’t even a question if you should go. Before you could even really think about it, you had already grabbed your jacket and put on your shoes.

As you closed the front door, your cell phone beeped with another message.

‘Only if you want to. Might not be in the best mood tonight.’

An obvious offer of a way out. As if you hadn't been waiting for this the whole evening. As if the thought of seeing Freddie again in just a few minutes didn't give you butterflies in your stomach. 

Your heart broke a little at how uncertain the texts sounded, as if you hadn't missed him for the last few days.

Excitement tingled in your fingers as you finally stepped into the elevator to Freddie’s apartment. It had been a short drive.

The door swung open. Freddie was standing in front of you. For a moment, you just looked at each other silently, then he literally pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you sank into his arms.  

You buried your face in his sweater. The warmth of his body and his familiar scent enveloped you. You could’ve stayed like this forever.

Freddie pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before holding you just a little tighter.

It was the rumbling of his stomach that finally separated you. Even though Freddie was reluctant to let you go, you shooed him into the apartment. He shouldn't have to starve because of you. Who knows when he’d last eaten before the flight?

Freddie apparently understood what you wanted from him and so he led you through the entrance area into the open kitchen. There was already a pot on the stove, some kind of pasta in it. Next to it was a pan of chopped vegetables.

While he took a large wooden spoon and stirred it slowly, you jumped onto one of the counters and sat down. Given your height and the height of the counters, which were definitely adapted to Freddie, it wasn't as easy as you thought, but the twitch in the corner of Freddie's mouth made it worth the effort.

From your position, you could watch Freddie. How his movements were all a little too choppy and the tense line in his shoulders. How he put the spoon down too hard on the counter. How he didn’t raise his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault." You said quietly.

Freddie exhaled in disbelief. He didn't look up at you.

Only when you reached out a hand for him did he come closer. He propped himself up with his arms on both sides of you, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Even though you might not believe me just yet, it wasn't your fault," you repeated, hoping that your words would get through to him eventually.

One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other you let run slowly through his hair.

"You did everything you could. It just wasn't your game. Can't win them all."

He let it pass for a moment, then took a deep breath. He turned his head. With a quick kiss against your neck, he pulled away from you.

"Thank you." He couldn't quite meet your gaze, but you still saw his words for what they were. Not just a thank you for right now, but the texts, the coming over, all the times before that.

"Nothing to thank me for," you confirmed. Freddie shook his head lovingly.

Nevertheless, he probably decided not to disagree for the moment. Instead, he took a plate from the cupboard. Silently he held it out to you, but you shook your head. You’d already eaten.

While Freddie ate, you sat beside him on the sofa. Your legs pressed together with soft music playing in the background for company.

When Freddie got up to take his plate back to the kitchen, you watched him.

Until he came back you hadn't moved from your seat, but apparently, Freddie was no longer satisfied with your previous seating arrangement. With a little shifting around, he finally settled behind you.

His legs were on either side of you, his back against the couch cushions, your back against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, drawing slow circles into your side. The other hand was intertwined with yours on your lap.

Your words were quiet. You talked about the last few days, hockey the topic you both ignored. While you told him about the cute dog you'd seen while going grocery shopping, Freddie about something funny one of his teammates had done at team breakfast.

So much more important than your conversations, however, was the fact that you were together at that moment. You enjoyed the closeness; the body heat that radiated from him and slowly made you sleepy.

Every once in a while, Freddie took turns in gently kissing your temple and your forehead. Each time you sank a little more against him.

– 

"Happy New Year," Freddie murmured. His arms around your waist pulled you closer to him.

"Happy New Year," you whispered back against his lips. With your hands on the back of his neck, you reached up for a kiss.

Even after all these years, you still weren't tired of it. Hopefully, you’d never be.

[ijwrff]

Hey. I love your work, just an idea you don't have to do it. Yandere Antisepticeye x male reader who is weak. With some fluff?

Thanks? Hope you have a good day

Hiya! I hope you're doing well, I'm glad I could get to do this fic! It's not often that I write for male readers, so it's always a fun challenge ^^

Tw; bullying, injury, condescension, yandere typical behavior, and Anti typical behavior like a tantrum and a whole lot of swearing. Yanno. As he does.

Taglist: @thattiredanimator1t0mblr @serenitydusk @viciouslyyearning @jacksepticeye-simp

Word Count: 1,196

It wasn’t uncommon for you to get bullied in college, but for the most part, everyone had grown out of their bullying phase. Your campus was pretty safe, so you never thought something like this could happen. People said mean words, sure, but it never got physical. Today was special, you guess. 

You sighed, and opened your apartment door after fumbling with the keys. It wasn’t surprising when you walked into your house nearly trashed. Every time Anti visited, it was like this. He had a habit of making everything difficult for you, but you’d never tell him that it was actually welcomed. Today though, you didn’t hardly say a word to him, and just tried to brush off his presence. You didn’t want to get teased any more than you already had been, not when you were hurt like this. 

“Dude what the fuck?! You can’t just come in here and ignore me!” You heard him run over and it only pushed you to move to your room quicker. He wasn’t even human, so of course he’d be able to beat you to the door. You dropped your chin to your chest, before trying to turn away from him. “Are you being serious right now?” He scoffed, and grabbed your shoulder to turn you towards him. “The fuck is your deal? W-” He paused when he saw your face. 

It was silent, and you couldn’t meet his eyes, ashamed you couldn’t put up more of a fight against the bullies that did this to you. Your eye was swollen, and there was a gash across your cheek from how hard the guy punched you…you cursed him for wearing so many rings, they only helped to tear into your skin further than it would have otherwise. Your sleeves covered the bruises for the most part, though one of them was clearly in the shape of a hand. 

The air shifted, small charges of electricity coming from Anti’s form as he seemed to nearly glitch in and out of reality. You took a step back, but he grabbed your shoulder to keep you close. “Who the fuck did it?” He spat, his eyes glowing green as it struggled to keep his emotions in check, only to fail miserably. His grip was nearly painful on your shoulder, and it seemed like it was taking every last ounce of his control not to leave even more bruises, intended or not. 

You sniffled once, and flinched from how intense the situation had become. “It doesn’t matter…” He was lightyears stronger than you, so it wasn’t surprising that when you tried to pull away from him, you didn’t get far at all. “Just some guys. I fought back though, so it’s okay.” You gulped, and struggled to meet his eyes.

He grabbed your chin roughly, and forced you to look at him. It was intended to direct your focus at him, but when you flinched he growled and let go, storming into the livingroom and throwing your couch against the wall, leaving a large crack that seemed to go through all the way if the neighbors screams were any indication. 

“A-Anti stop!” You called, and rushed up to him, but soon all of your emotions were contradicting each other. Lashing out at him wasn’t something you wanted to do, but your brain was speeding through a million scenarios in the blink of an eye. “Why do you even care? You bully me all the time! How is this even different? I figured you’d be happy with how much you seem to hate me.” You winced at your own words, hoping you didn’t take it too far, but you did effectively make him freeze in his rampage of breaking most of the belongings in the living room. 

“Hate you?” He chuckled, before it turned into a cackle that could have come from a villain in a tv series. “Why the fuck do you think I hate you?” The electricity crackled around you, and he turned and stepped closer to you. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t bother spending time with you. I’d probably just kill you.” His grin was wicked, and you had a hard time focusing on his words while that terrifying look was on his face. 

“Y-You just kind of bully me a lot, so…” You mumbled, feeling like you’d upset him. That was the last thing you wanted right now, and his emotions were so unpredictable you never knew what he’d do next. It was a game with him, really. One second he could be beating the shit out of someone a few streets down, cackling wildly, and the next second he’d be sitting on your couch throwing popcorn in his mouth laughing at some bad horror movie. 

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow, but his grin never left his face. “Yeah. I do bully you, but I’m the only one allowed to.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If anyone else fucking messes with you, they’re gonna have to deal with me.” He cracked his neck, then his fingers as he stalked closer to you. 

It was a terrifying sight, and you backed away. Beforelong, your back was to the wall and he was towering over you. That grin only seemed to grow as your eyes widened in surprise. He elaborated, but really it only posed more questions. 

“If anyone’s going to break you, it’ll be me. You’re mine to tease, to taunt, to torment, and above all that? To protect. No one fucking messes with what’s mine.” He cackled, and leaned closer until his lips were only centimeters away from yours. “Anyone that hurts you only deserves the worst of what this world has to offer.” He leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. 

You gasped in shock at the sudden kiss, and he wasted no time in deepening it, one hand tangled in your hair as he pulled harshly and the other just barely at the base of your neck. It was nearly a desperate kiss, and you could barely breathe from how long he dragged it on for. Though after several moments of his tongue exploring your mouth, he pulled back. His smile was…still a wicked grin, but there were traces of tenderness in it. Very slight traces, but they were there. 

“Clean yourself up. I’ll be back.” He demanded, his voice sounding far too serious to have come from him. He snapped his fingers to make a display of his exit, before dissipating rapidly into particles and disappearing entirely. 

You pant to catch your breath, and stood there motionless. Did that…really just happen. Your hand trailed up, touching your lips softly to try and process the events that just unfolded. It wasn’t even clear how long you stood there, but a text notification popped up, and you pulled out your phone to see a message that gave you a genuine smile…despite questioning if it should have made you as happy as it did. 

“Sorry I wrecked your shit. Clean up your wounds. I’ll double check when I’m back from dealing with these pieces of shit.”

[sharkface]

i quit art bc nobody cared about my drawings. are you gonna say its because i wasnt really an artist? bc i loved making art but nobody gave a damn abt my art and that hurts. its normal to want peer recognition it doesnt mean you dont care about your art and im sick of hearing people say that

I mean, I think if you made something, you were and are an artist. I don't think it's a good precedent to set to say that art must have some specific non-commercial quality to "count" as art, so if the challenge you're raising to me here is to comfort you on your motivations, I am not going to do that because I don't think they factor into what is or is not art. I think if you were not happy being an artist, it's probably good that you quit, but from the tone of this ask I suspect that you very much do want to make art. It's your attitude that is dissuading you from doing it, and I really can't help you with that except to say that it's pretty obviously making you miserable and if you truly want to be able to make art again you have no other choice but to do something about the part of making it that you hate. Even if you got all the peer recognition you want, it wouldn't let you skip over the hard parts of learning a craft.

[haleigh-sloth]

Why does this make you low-key hate Bakugo 😂 like honestly why is he the one facing the brunt of your anger??

Ah it's just straight up bitterness. Every main character, and I mean EVERY main character, besides Bakugo got the absolute most dog shit ending to their arcs, both in terms of events that took place and the quality of how it was presented.

Tomura? An arc about lack of agency, wanting society to see him and help him, we learned he never had a chance from the fucking start and by god it was time he got one! But nah.

Deku? Oh you thought you were gonna save that boy? Think again! You're gonna fail your challenge, feel depressed about it, and not really learn anything from it either.

Ochacko? Thought you'd save Toga? Help her? Nah, she'll kill herself for you though and that will be portrayed as a good thing.

Shouto? Getting time with his siblings? Having dinner with his brother? Nah instead he'll be half-dead, and his family will act completely cold and distant toward each other at the end of it all. This doesn't include Natsuo @ Endeavor btw. But it sure does include everyone else in the family.

Toga? Lives a miserable lonely life, wants a life that isn't miserable and lonely, finally gets some semblance of friendship for the first time since she's been a criminal, and kills herself. All good.

All Might? Thought he'd do...literally anything to learn and change? Nah. Also, he'll end up being just as bad as Gran Torino too.

Basically everyone failed their arcs. But hey, at least Bakugo got the fuck over himself and had some emotional clarity finally.

Bakugo as a character is fine. Honestly, he's been handled great. But really it's hard to take him sobbing over Deku losing OFA so he can't be his rival anymore seriously when....all of the above things are happening.

Also, Bakugo was already on thin ice because of his fans but that's not Hori's fault. But god, Bakugo turned into this little trophy wife character that, for me, is hard to like when every other character who deserved better got completely shafted.

Yep, it's bitterness. Not even gonna try to hide it.

[crow-raven-crow]

𝟐𝟎 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Tagged by @weemssapphic - thank you, dovey 🤍

𝟏. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑?

16.. I cross-post everything, but i also just started like three months ago now SO

𝟐. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭?

79,333 (i've been seeing this damn angel number everywhere)

𝟑. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫?

Mostly Wednesday right now. I'm getting into Game of Thrones and there are Resident Evil 8 fics in the works ! I want to get into RE8 writing more because I miss our Lady Dimitrescu ;)

𝟒. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝟓 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐤𝐮𝐝𝐨𝐬?

The Protector (series)

I Know You Will.. (lyric fic)

Slow Down, I'm Not Going Anywhere

I'd Hate To Repeat Myself

Monser (series)

𝟓. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬? 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭?

Yes! I try to respond to every comment I get on all platforms. I remember when I would comment on works before I started posting my own. It would feel so cool when I got to talk to the writer/artist about the work or anything to do with their process. It feels amazing being on the other side of that now. Like someone read something I did or saw something I drew and took the time out of their day to say something about it.. It's crazy to me and keeps me eternally grateful

𝟔. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Monster Ch.3 - Retrograde (~4.1k words) - THIS CHAPTER HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER DUDE. The flashbacks, the hopelessness, the deep emptiness that I felt while writing everything in Larissa's point of view literally made me cry. This whole series is just a miserable slap in the face with angst. The final chapter of this fic is a little over 10k words, and I wrote it all in one sitting LMAO. I went insane, but there is angst all over it.

𝟕. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Most of my fics are happy endings because even though i LOVE angst and I'm so drawn to dark fics and things like that, they're so painful to read and write. The pain in angst fics is not for the lighthearted, especially hurt/no comfort. The happiest I think would be the last chapter of The Protector - To Be Found.. This whole series is a bit of a cliche, but it was my first series and post on here.. It's got a special place in my heart

𝟖. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬?

Thankfully, no! It was definately something I was nervous about. I think that my writing isn't the best every now and then;;;; But I know that I'm only growing and challenging myself to improve with each step. It pushes me back up and makes me so grateful to everyone who does like what I put out, especially when they're not as popular categories or a bit of a different idea than what has been seen.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, yes. Always wlw. They're mostly due to the requests I get in my inbox, but that doesn't mean I enjoy them any less. I dip into most things now and probably more as I get more comfortable writing them. I have no issues with it, I just want to translate it well if you know what i mean ;)

𝟏𝟎. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧?

I'm not a big fan of writing them.. I don't think I'd really know what to do if I were to write one. They can be a really hard thing to write, but it makes me look up to the ones who can write them super well. If that's your thing and you love to read them, I'd check out @daydream-cement if you haven't already. They did a really good crossover with Gwen's characters called The Road Trip

𝟏𝟏. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧?

Not that I am aware of, no.. If this ever happens, please bring it to my attention. I spend hours creating and it's always like a punch in the gut when something so personal and meaningful to me gets stolen

𝟏𝟐. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝?

Nope

𝟏𝟑. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞?

Not yet. I haven't been asked about it before, but my current schedule is too packed for me to even contemplate the idea. One day!

𝟏𝟒. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩?

I'm very much on the x reader train. I basically only write and read that as well. Don't know if I'd write anything else, but there are a few Lady D x Larissa Weems ones that I've seen a bit ago that caught my eye

𝟏𝟓. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥?

Lover Academia.. Literally my next series LMAOOO. Guys.. It's been sitting in my notes since I wrote The Protector....... I changed a big part of it in early September and basically merged two ideas, but I haven't had the motivation to go in and rewrite them to fit together. It's like pages of notes.. AND I DON'T KNOW HOW IT'LL END SO THERES THAT TOO AHAH

𝟏𝟔. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐬?

Setting of time and place. I've always loved describing things. I could write pages to just describe a room alone. I always loved reading stuff like that because it really helped me visualize what was happening, so I guess it translated into my own writing.

𝟏𝟕. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬?

I'm much slower than I would like to be. A big part of that is now balancing school, work, and a social life. I'm thankful enough to consider doing this and interacting with my mutuals as a bigger part of my life. It's crazy to think that I followed these people months ago, and now I talk to and write alongside them. I do so much with school and work that there are days where I could write but I allow my body to recharge for a bit and then pick it up later in the day.

But this also taught me a good lesson because I am not a consumable artist. I don't want to push out mediocure works, I don't want to operate like a machine, I don't want to put works out only for them to be swiped over everyones heads. I want my work to be savored, to be reread, to be saved in folders because "ohmygod that was amazing." As artists in this social world, we are pushed to create as much as we can, but I don't want to be lost within that.

𝟏��. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜?

I've never done this before? I think I would when it comes to anything related to Lady Dimitrescu or Donna Beneviento, but I would make sure to get it checked before releasing it. It's a risky game to play sometimes.

𝟏𝟗. 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫?

Wednesday (Larissa x Reader)

𝟐𝟎. 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧?

Monster (series) - It's the way I loved breaking my own heart. It's the way I loved making you all suffer along with me. It's the way the ending was so long but provided closure after the shit show that Larissa and Reader had gone through. I'd love to write one-shots for this universe. I loved it so much and feel like I can write their happier moments that way.

I Know You Will.. - THE LYRIC FICS YOU GUYS REQUEST LITERALLY HAVE ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. This one hurt so good. This is a part of Larissa that I will always want to love and protect. She needs to be reminded of how amazing she is - we all understand this part. But being allowed to feel those emotions and have someone stick with you through them is also oh so special.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

IGNORE THE FACT THAT I FUCKED UP THIS POST SORRY

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Tags (no pressure <33) - @sapphos-ode @i-write-sometimes-maybe

consider yourself tagged if you see this

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

x,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[yarugawitch]

hii! prompt wise i feel like nnoitra is concerned a lot with what he's "supposed" to be and he's overly cautious of how others view him (as weak or strong) so how do you think a carefree bold s/o would have an effect on him? someone who doesnt care about traditional roles, lets others be however they want to be, doesnt let others label and box them or the people around them? i feel like it would be a good influence even if he outright sneers them at first

Nnoitra/Reader: Headcanons for a bolder S/O

a great ask!! there are a lot of thoughts on the way i see nnoitra to add a little bit of context so i hope this doesn't read like a fucking character essay 🙈

>Masterpost | >Request Info

A love interest like this can be very poisonous for his own self-image at first. I think you have to be either very distant or cautious at least while he's trying to asses you or else he's likely to view you as a danger to his own peace which should be avoided or eliminated. But the thing is that that's the kind of person who'd work the best with him. Personally, I think to Nnoitra labeling and dividing people, over-simplifying some things and maintaining an image is something of a coping mechanism to keep his mind off things like the horrors of arrancar existence and his own insecurities. I mean... being purposefully ignorant is very fitting for someone missing an eye not because he somehow lost it in battle but because he was made this way. So people who also label him as either an idol like Tesla or a tyrant like everybody else and see him as nothing beyond these titles mean nothing to him. They might as well be grains of sand beneath his heel. And even though he's usually too self-absorbed and consumed with his own thoughts, wishes and fears to see others as they are Nnoitra actually hates people who are shallow with him. Ironically enough you have to fight or at least challenge him even when it comes to emotions and feelings in order for Gilga to acknowledge you

All that said I believe that once he's done spitting venom at you he'd find himself very entertained with any other conversations you share. This would help him slowly but surely open up even if it's hard sometimes. Painful even. Someone who doesn't see speaking about just anything as a weakness or unnecessary nonsense and constantly shows it will surely make him more talkative. I love thinking back to that one scene where he asked Ichigo about his name and promised to try to remember it, only to say "I already forgot your name sorry" like one chapter later. And because of it, I'm convinced Nnoitra is actually very fucking funny sometimes. So seeing someone almost rolling on the ground laughing without being scared of looking stupid would make him fall in love even more

Nnoitra is a troubled and miserable man... which doesn't take away the fact that he's also a terrible person but nonetheless he can't help but feel both intimidated and enamored with someone who sees his personality attractive without taking his strength, rank and number of battles he's won into account. No strong/weak talk. Just him. Being the man he is he'd probably think it's some sick joke or weird obsession with just plain bad people at first because of course it has to be this, can't have faith in you people, but once he gets his shit rocked because the s/o doesn't take no shit from anybody he'd start to feel something. To him being seen through his tough armor and still being taken seriously even after you realize what he's actually like is oh so very scary but also so thrilling and intimate he could die

Despite Tesla's dedication to Nnoitra and Nnoitra alone, I think this guy can be easily enamored by someone like this, too. Seeing Tesla all giddy and puppy-eyed with anyone beside him is a huge sign something is going on for Nnoitra. It means he's not just imagining things. And well, Gilga can run away and ignore everything all he wants but getting jealous is the biggest reality check he can get because this man's ego is a tad too big to let it slide

He won't take any of this without fighting back of course. At first, he'd try to do something about the person who makes him feel too much when he's not ready for it. And later on, he'd try to best you. Even though he'd start to open up I'm sure Nnoitra's not the one to let himself be on the receiving end all the time even if it's as small as taking him seriously 😭 At least because it's embarrassing. So as to not be outdone he'd try to be more genuine, more present. Of course, given his personality, height and the amount of arms he can possess, being physically affectionate is much easier for him. You can't do anything with him being bigger in general so it makes him feel more confident and imposing while he's trying to win the "who swoons first" game lol

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #44: roller coaster.

I returned to my senses when I heard the door open and a bag get set down. “Ben! I got those cookies that you like from the—oh.” Then I heard a chuckle and felt her sit down on the floor next to me.

"Ben...what are you doing with your face on the ground?"

I didn't say anything. It was like I couldn't. Too many thoughts were spinning wildly around my brain, except they weren't even developed enough to be thoughts. I shook my head.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't tell you," I muttered, because I thought too hard about what it would be like to marry you and panicked for two hours was too difficult to tell her.

"Well...okay. But at least sit up, silly." She put her hand on my shoulder and shook me a little.

I obeyed and sat up, not wanting to make eye contact. In that moment, I found her terrifying: all five-foot-one of her.

She sat quietly with me for a moment.

"...Is this about...you and me?" she asked finally. I shrugged, which she correctly interpreted as an affirmative.

"Ben, I...I think we should talk."

I covered my face and shook my head, feeling like I was about to implode. "Please. No."

"Ben...I hate to see you get all upset over nothing," she pleaded. "I want you to know I don't expect a single thing from you. You were right, that we'll always be friends, and I know you can’t force feelings you don’t have. I've accepted that you don't like me—"

I tore down my hands, revealing an anguished expression. "Well, I've accepted that I maybe kind of do, which sucks, because now I have to think about what our future would look like together and I don’t think I’ve ever thought about anything so serious in my entire life."

She blanched. She had been standing on her knees, but she slowly sank down onto her heels in shock.

I couldn't tell what she was feeling. Shouldn’t my confession have made her happy? But she looked about as confused as I was. Maybe even a little scared, too.

"...You're joking," she said finally.

"Well, I don't know if I'm right or not, but I'm not trying to be funny," I told her.

She looked like she didn't know what to say. We stared at each other.

And then...tears started welling up in her eyes. She shook her head. Two fat droplets spilled down her cheeks, and she started doing that imaginary knitting thing with her hands.

"Hey...don't get all excited, Fan," I said, embarrassed, catching her hands up in one of mine. Her hands were so little.

"How am I supposed to not get excited?" she asked quietly, her big eyes dripping diamonds that glittered like stars. "I've always loved you."

I didn't expect those words to make me dizzy, but they did. She looked at me, for a moment...then collapsed into my arms and absolutely lost it, sobbing like a baby.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

“Listen…I’m scared,” I admitted, fully aware she might not have the mental bandwidth to register what I was saying. “I’ve…I’ve never thought about being with someone that way. I’ve never thought about what that would mean, or what it would invite into my life, or the challenges it would involve. I mean…everything could go horribly wrong. We work pretty well as friends, and I guess as housemates, but as anything else—who knows? We could end up being way in over our heads and totally unhappy.”

“Well…I’m scared too,” she snuffled. “I mean…goodness, Ben, I just told you. I was okay with you not liking me. I didn’t have anything to lose. But now...I have everything to lose. I didn’t even love Deirak the way I love you, and it was still so hard when I said goodbye. What am I going to do if I lose you?”

“You’re afraid of something ending that hasn’t even started?” I teased her weakly, rubbing circles on her back.

“Well…you’re afraid of starting it, when there’s every hope in the galaxy it’ll end,” she said miserably, in a dumb, mopey little way that made me chuckle in spite of how anxious I felt. I rocked her back and forth for a moment, then gently lifted her head off my shoulder and held her at arms length so I could look at her.

A loose dark hair had gotten plastered to her wet face. I picked it off.

“Look…I still don’t know if I’m in love with you,” I told her.

“Well…I still don’t know if I want you to be in love with me,” she said, laughing softly and wiping the heel of her palm against her eyes. “You should have just stayed the way you always were: handsome and charming and thoroughly unattainable, so that I could have gone on admiring you in silence forever, and never had to risk anything.”

“Well…you shouldn’t have made me dinner, and you shouldn’t have had coffee with me every morning for a month despite hating caf, and you shouldn’t have let me walk in on you dancing like a moron,” I replied softly, pushing my fist against her shoulder playfully. “I mean, please. You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Cute like a loth-cat? Or cute like a girl?”

I flicked her cheek with my thumb and index finger. “Oh my Force, not this stupid thing again.”

She giggled, her wet eyes sparkling.

My hand stayed hovering over the side of her face as I looked at her, and I let it rest on her cheek. She smiled and leaned into my hand—maybe she was part loth-cat after all.

My thumb poked at the corner of her mouth, and I looked at it for a second. Thought about it.

Nah. No way.

“Don’t kiss me, Ben Solo,” she said seriously.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, annoyed that she had noticed. “Ew.”

“You looked like you were thinking about it.”

“Yeah, thinking about how it would be gross,” I said, which was true. “Hey—we’d be perfect for each other, you know. I have a pathological fear of physical intimacy, and you’re a prude.”

She squinched up her nose to keep from smiling and smacked her hand lightly against my face. “I am not.”

“You’re twenty-two and you’ve only had one boyfriend, who you never kissed once in the two years you were together,” I teased.

“You already know I want my first kiss to be with the one I marry,” she said, rolling her eyes at me and smiling. Her hand went on top of the one I had holding her face—it felt weirdly electric. “That was one of the first conversations we ever had, wasn’t it? When you took refuge in my hut while the others played spin-the-saber. Ironic of you to make fun of me for never having been kissed, since you’re twenty-three and you’ve never been with anyone at all.”

“Yeah...until now,” I said. “Possibly.”

“Possibly,” she echoed softly.

We looked at each other, our smiles fading. The uncertainty of the whole situation came creeping in again.

“…We should probably just…stay friends until I go back to Ryloth,” she said finally. “And then...figure it out after that. I don’t know if we should…date as housemates.”

I frowned. Until she went all the way back to Ryloth?

She picked up on my troubled look. "...What?" she asked.

“Well, it's just...you’d be so far away," I said. "We would barely see each other. I mean...I’m not crazy about starting things right away either, but if we were to…y’know, date…wouldn’t it be easier to start while you’re right here?”

She blushed. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to be living with my boyfriend.”

I took my hand off her face. “But…you’re living with me right now, aren't you?"

“Yes, but you’re not my boyfriend right now.”

“Yeah, but...what would change if I was? Why would it be inappropriate then, if it's okay right now? I don’t understand.”

"Ben, don't you remember? Even before all of this happened, I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate for us to live together—"

"Yeah, I know you weren’t sure about living here before, but you changed your mind, right? ‘Cause you’re here. And you’ve never brought it up again till now…”

She looked like she was about to say something, then stopped.

“I…I just don’t want to be living with a man until I’m married,” she repeated, embarrassed.

“But that’s what I’m saying, you’re literally living with one right now,” I repeated, frustrated.

“Yes, but you’re not my boyfriend right now,” she repeated, flustered.

“No, but I’m still a guy, and you’re currently living with me, and that’s not what you said,” I repeated, annoyed. “You said, ‘I don’t want to live with a man’—”

“But you’re not my boyfriend,” she said again.

“Fannie. You’re just saying the same thing over and over!”

“Well…so are you!”

We both giggled tensely at the same time: a weird kind of laugh that was 0% mirthful and 100% awkward and uncomfortable.

“Look, I was under the impression you already decided you were okay with living here, because here you are,” I said. “I’m not suggesting we like…start sharing a bed or anything. I’m still expecting that you’re gonna move out in the fall so you can go back to doing your thing. All I’m saying is, for the summer, we could just keep things exactly the same—”

“But they wouldn’t be the same, because we’d be dating,” she said.

“What would be so different about us dating from the way things were two weeks ago?” I asked impatiently. “You were already living here. Sleeping on the couch. We were hanging out all the time. Making dinner together, watching movies, going out on the weekends—”

“Yes, but everything was different, because when I agreed to move in, I saw you as a brother,” she said, looking stressed.

“But you didn't just see me as a brother,” I argued. “You said you always liked me.”

“Yes, but you didn’t like me, so nothing was ever going to happen,” she said, anxiously doing the knitting thing with her hands again.

Happen? I let go of her. What did she mean, nothing was ever going to...happen? Like...something that would make it inappropriate for us to live together?

“Wait,” I said, looking at her. “What are you afraid would ‘happen’?”

I looked at her expectantly. She couldn’t answer. Or wouldn't. Was she trying to say something bad would happen? Like...I would try to do something bad to her? Like…I would try to violate her? Or something?

“What?” I stared at her. “What, are you afraid we would, like…have sex or something? Do you think I'd try to have sex with you?”

“Ben. Do not talk about us having sex,” she said, shocked, her face red. But she didn’t deny it or try to correct me, and that really, really bothered me. I didn’t think that was what she was thinking…but what was I supposed to think, when she wasn’t giving me any reason to think otherwise?

“Well, you’re the one who’s thinking about that, apparently,” I said, starting to get worked up. “Really? Me? With everything you know about me, that’s something you’re worried about? Why, just ‘cause I’m a guy? Who do you think I am? You really think that I of all people would try to take advantage of you like that?”

She shook her head, her eyes all big.

“Then what are you trying to say?” I snapped. “Because if it’s not that and you’re thinking about something else, I would love to hear it! What is this, a guessing game? I mean, come on! Give me something to work with here!”

She wouldn’t talk. She would only stare, her eyes wide like twin moons. Usually, her big eyes were cute, but right now they were both pissing me off and scaring the hell out of me.

A minute went by in total silence. Then two. I know, because I counted the seconds. I waved my hand in front of her face. “Uh, hello?” She didn’t blink. Her eyes began to cloud up with tears, but she still wouldn’t speak.

Why the hell wasn’t she talking?? My heart started pounding and all my thoughts started speeding up inside my head and my hands started shaking. I started panicking again. Things had been okay and then for a second they’d been better than okay and now they were worse than they’d ever been. This was hell; we were in hell right now.

Suddenly, everything just felt so terrible and I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and yelled and kicked the leg of the coffee table.

That seemed to wake her up.

She jumped to her feet. “Why are you so mad that I said I wanted to wait till I moved out before we started dating?” she asked, glaring at me. “You’re the one who said you weren’t sure about dating at all. Why are you suddenly all in a rush?”

“I’m not!” I shouted. “You’re the one who apparently thinks I’d try to sleep with you if we started dating right now. Do you know how physically sick that makes me feel?“

“Ben, I never said that.”

“Well that’s how I interpreted it, since you wouldn’t tell me what you actually meant, and I asked you—like, twice, and you didn’t kriffing correct me!”

“Don’t swear at me!” she yelled back.

“I’m not swearing at you, I am swearing in general!" I seethed. "There’s a difference!”

She glared at me, but didn’t say anything. I waited for her to open her mouth and use actual words like a grown-up, since apparently she’d finally gotten in the mood to talk, but no words ever came. I threw my hands out to my sides.

"Well? Are you gonna say something, or what?"

She didn’t. Just stared at me with those big brown eyes like daggers.

“Oh, so we’re back to this now,” I said sarcastically. “Cool.”

Her eyes were boring holes into me and it was like being on fire.

I turned and shouted and slammed my fist against the wall. “Cool! Just ignore me, I guess! I don’t get what’s happening right now! You’re not being you! You’ve always been so great at communicating and now you won’t kriffing talk!” I body-checked the wall and yelled again. RIP my neighbors.

Fannie’s eyes flashed violently. The same way they had when she told me she hated her father.

“No, I’ll tell you something, dumbass,” she blurted angrily. “We shouldn’t kriffing date.” Then she grabbed her keys and stormed out the door.

I had never heard those words come out of her mouth before. And right after she’d told me to watch my language. I was so shocked, there was a split-second where I laughed out loud. And then a ton of other emotions barreled into me like a space freighter crash-and-burn, and I slid down the wall on my back and ended up crumpled in a heap on the floor with my head in my hands.

What the hell was that? Nothing like that ever happened when we were just friends. Are we still friends? Because if that’s what it’s like to be more-than-friends…I’d pretty much rather just die.

[manipulative-puppeteer]

WHUMPTOBER 2023 no.18

Nakir & Michael

Tags: improsonment, beating, blindfold, restrained, sadistic whumper, defiant whumpee

MASTERLIST

CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

Year 1169

The pain was bearable.

His breathing was more messy than usual, he also couldn’t keep his back straight.

But Nakir still didn’t scream, didn't even yelp. 

When he got hit repeatedly in the stomach all  he did was grunt. It was painful but satisfying. The guard, whichever happened to be the one torturing him today, sounded really annoyed. 

After they finished beating him up, they angrily left, smashing the door.

Unlike other days, they didn't untie him. Usually they threw him back to his cell, to rot miserably in there. Now he was still bound to a chair, with legs spread and hands behind his back. With a rug over his eyes.

Soon he heard steps, slowly getting closer.

Someone opens the door and walks around the room, calmly and confident.

Nakir knows who this is.

That shithead guard wasn't done with him because he was getting Michael. 

"Hello Nakir." He hated that man with all of his heart. Michael was the one who orchestrated his whole imprisonment. "I see you are pretty exhausted, we can skip this whole thing if you just tell me about it."

The same talk every day, he would mock it as boring and uncreative if it wasn't slowly getting to him.

Michael each time asked about something, changing each torture session into an interrogation.

The problem was he never specified what Nakir was supposed to tell him.

Torture with artificial meaning.

A pain erupted in his right leg, Michael apparently waited enough for the answer today and decided to get to work.

He hit Nakir with a hard object, aiming for his legs. Legs that he couldn't protect or move out of the way because of the restraints.

If this continued, moving around would be much harder.

A particularly nasty hit landed on his ankle making him tug on the ropes.

"You can just tell me Nakir."

There was an urge to ask what Michael wanted to know, to ask for the meaning of his pain, but he quickly suppressed the temptation. 

Asking would be equal to submitting. 

If he asked that would signal he was ready to answer, to obey. To do anything in order to ease the pain.

And Nakir told himself that he wouldn't submit.

The beating moved to his other leg, one that was scarred from the explosion. Each hit cut the skin, opening the old scar.

He allowed himself to scream.

[majokothesmol]

Why is everyone so mean to Geeta? I'm so sad I made art AND a fic. Enjoy.

Geeta is well aware her reputation precedes her. She's a force to be reckoned with in the ways of speaking, organizing, managing, and getting things done. She didn't get to be chairwoman for nothing. But she's become unpracticed over the years.

She must've started slipping up somewhere around the silence of the Area Zero Project. Yes, that's it. She should've watched over it more because she didn't know exactly what it was about. She could have done something, but didn't. Foolish. Since none of the consequences had seeped up until now, it must've subconsciously given her the incentive to rely— shirk off her responsibilities.

"What kind of lazy champion needs a receptionist, anyways?" She asks herself. Maybe she's been squashing the unbridled potential of real challengers. Rika isn't her secretary, she's her coworker. The Elite Four are supposed to be her team of advisors, not her subordinates. She retracts some assignments she was going to send— hand off to Rika. Shame. All this free time, and she couldn't even train her pokemon to be as strong as they want to be. She's betrayed them all. What was she thinking?

"They're right, I work them too hard." She mumbles to herself. Three-fourths of the Elite Four already has their own jobs; Hassel is a teacher, Larry is already a gymleader, Poppy is a literal child— what made her say yes to that?! Geeta types almost angrily, taking back her responsibilities. She should be the one filling out Poppy's reports, performing maintenance checks, and keeping the taxes in order! Why is Katy being strong a problem? Why can't Larry take a damn vacation for once? Why is she a "I hate my boss" joke on Iono's streams? Why didn't she actually utilize her pokemon? It's because she's lazy! This is why everyone hates her.

She sits back in her chair and takes a deep breath. Now she can do the one thing she's good at. Managing things. It's how she became a champion. Out of an entire pool of champions, it's likely the only reason why she was chosen. There were other trainers with much more powerful pokemon.

Geeta flicks off the light and lets out her glimmora. If she wants to brave an all-nighter for the first time in years, she might as well save power and have some company. She feels guilty, not miserable.

Rika scrolls through her email. "What the...?" Where did all her maintenance reports go? Also, where did all her upcoming work disappear off to? "Hassel? Are you missing work stuff?"

"Yes, actually." He looks though his email as well. "I didn't even touch this file and—"

Larry practically flies into the room. It's the first time Rika has actually seen him scared. "Where did Poppy's work go, and why is my weekend free?"

You know things have gone wrong when Larry is panicking. Then again, only Larry could panic about having time off.

"Well... It's weird. But everything looks legitimate." Rika looks up who accessed what last. "It seems like La Primeria just took back a bunch of stuff." She makes a face. "I wonder why, I usually correct those kinds of things."

"Wait. That means I don't have any work left to do here." Hassel starts packing his things. "I can grade those assignments and hand them back early." He zips up his bag and leaves.

Larry and Rika come to the same conclusion as him as they stare up at the clock. They're finishing on time for once.

Geeta is notified of three people exiting the building and knows that they didn't even question it. It fuels her desire to be better.

It's only eleven at night, and Geeta is so tempted to admit she got overambitious. But she thinks back to how she failed and steels herself towards improvement. They were happy. This is worth it.

It's been at exactly two weeks and five days, and Geeta doesn't even know when she started counting. How were these people even functioning like this? She's never wanted to scream so badly. How have none of them walked out on her yet? It's a miracle. Sure, she barely got six hours of sleep and maybe she counted a granola bar as breakfast more times than she cares to admit, but it's only fair.

The Elite Four seem much livelier, Larry doesn't look like he's about to die, and even the gymleaders seem to hate her slightly less.

...or at least, that's what she'd like to say. Nobody noticed. Somehow she's convinced she's stressing them out more. She must look terrible. Granted, she's technically doing enough work for herself, a secretary, and a member of the Elite Four. But all those things are technically her responsibility, she's liable for the damage she's caused.

Rika is the first to crack after about a month. "Don't you feel at least a little bit concerned about her?" She sighs. "I mean, I won't lie. The time off is great! But isn't there a way to redistribute this work evenly?"

"Well if there is, I'm sure she would've figured it out by now." Hassel sighs. "But La Primeria would've called on us if she really can't. She's a very capable person."

"True." Larry nods. "If she did this earlier, I could have had eight hours of sleep like this all the time. La Primeria is actually doing us a solid for once."

Rika doesn't want to argue with them. Maybe they're right.

Two months pass and Geeta is starting to get the idea that this might be fine. Now that she's used to it, she can power through everything on just a few cups of coffee. The Elite Four are content to let her handle things. Geeta grimaces at her never-ending pile of self-assigned work. No wonder everyone was so scared of her, look at all this stuff she told them to do.

Hassel starts to feel bad once he notices La Primeria is getting a bit... Snippy. He just popped into her office to say hello and was met with a breif glare of daggers before she composed herself just as fast.

He didn't bring it up though, because... He honestly can't say he feels guilty. Not in a mean way of course, but he and Larry seemed to share a small agreement: she had it coming.

After six long months, it's starting to become apparent: this is a worse arrangement for everyone. Rika stands outside La Primeria's office and knocks on the door.

"La Primeria. We're here to complain about uneven workflow."

"..."

"Is she even in there?" Hassel whispers.

"She is." Larry nods, looking through a window on the door. "I saw light from a screen turn off. Probably thinks we'll leave her alone if we think she's not in."

"Yeah. Probably." Rika shrugs. "Oh, well. We tried." She seems to storm away.

"Wait what?" Hassel's eyes go wide. "Weren't you wthe one who suggested this?"

Larry catches on. "Well if she's not actually in there, we'll just try again later." It takes him mouthing the words "just follow me" for Hassel to comply.

After scooting down the hall, Rika makes a quiet gesture. "Now when we go back, she'll think we'll have left. Take off your shoes so they don't squeak." She whispers.

"What if I fall?" Hassel hisses.

"Then just walk quietly with those shoes on." Rika looks over at Larry, who already took off his shoes. Good. Hassel is still standing in his shoes looking at him. "Hassel what are you looking at—?" She turns back to see Larry's socks.

They're patterned to have little komalas all over them.

Larry clears his throat. "Can we get going now?"

Right.

Sure enough, there's the faint glow of a laptop screen.

Rika sighs. "This is ridiculous." She mumbles to herself, putting her shoes back on. Larry does the same. She knocks on the door again. "CHAMPION GEETA." The slam of a laptop is heard. "THIS IS AN INTERVENTION. OPEN THE DOOR. LARRY IS LESS STUBBORN THAN YOU."

"Hey—"

"She's not wrong."

"..." The sound of footsteps can be heard. A phantom of a wrathful La Primeria appears in the window of the door. Hassel and Rika steel themselves. Larry is unaffected.

The door is opened.

The trio is greeted by La Primeria's usual polite smile and neutral mannerisms.

They are also greeted by the smell of old coffee, stale instant noodles, scent freshener, and the eyebags of someone doing three people's worth of work.

"We need to talk." Rika flicks the lights on, and steps into the room herself. "We get it, you feel guilty about piling the work on us. Piling it up on yourself isn't much better."

Hassel cringes at the state of her office. "It's worse."

"It's about the same." Larry sighs.

Rika rolls her eyes at them. "My question is, why? You have the skills, La Primeria. We are adults." She gestures to herself and the men behind her. "YOU are an adult." The more the thinks about it, the angrier she gets. "You're the chairwoman, the manager; You. Are. La. Primeria. So WHY can't you do the ONE THING YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD AT!?"

The tension is so thick, it could cushion a pin drop.

But not an explosion.

"Yeah. Why aren't I good at the one thing I was chosen for?" The fuse has been lit. "I'm the champion, the chairwoman. I'm La Primeria. I eat your overtime and crush challengers!" The beating of her heart is a countdown timer. "—and do you know how I can do that?" The friendly facade is torn off. "BECAUSE I'M LA PRIMERIA!" She explodes, voice booming as she storms about the room. "I'M NOT "LA SEGUNDA" OR "LA MEDIOCRE"—! I AM "LA. PRIMERIA!"

Her initial fire dies. "You finally got me. I don't know how you all did this as long as you did, or why. You can go tell the league to assign someone new to my position, someone who isn't a bossy houndoom."

"Why?"

Geeta can't even face them. "I treated you horribly, failed to manage both my duties and responsibilities, I—" she sits down in her rolling chair, exhausted. "I'm sorry."

"That means nothing, you know." Larry crosses his arms.

"Larry!" Rika and Hassel scold him.

Geeta nods. "I know." She gets up and folds herself into a crumpled-up dogeza in front of them. "I think it's time we actually sort this out. I want to try again. Please."

Rika lets her shoulders fall. "Okay. One chance." She turns to her coworkers. "What about you, Hassel? Larry?"

Hassel nods. "I'm glad we can talk this through." He looks to Larry, who seems to be judging Geeta's crass imitation of a respectable gesture.

"...just get off the floor and schedule a meeting." He sighs.

"...I can't believe you thought I'd dock your pay for talking with people while you work." Geeta sighs after a long meeting.

"Hey, we all had our assumptions about you." Rika smiles.

"I'm just glad we could move past them." Hassel says, sipping a can of lemonade.

Larry nods. "This work schedule is much more manageable."

"I'd like to thank you." Geeta smiles at her fellow coworkers. "For allowing me to be La Primeria."