#silvester x reader

[seventeenficsformalereader]

When I saw you ; Silvester Belt

Silvester meets you at a club and offers some company for you ~

Warnings : Blowjob, Drinking, gagging, slight degration kink, semi public

Gender Neutral reader

Genre : Smut, Fluff

Words : 1,483

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Silvester entered the club and took a look around. The atmosphere was pretty sensual and Silvester kinda enjoyed it. The scent of alcohol and sweat filled Silvester's nostrils and the sounds of people talking and laughing filled his ears. It made him somewhat happy to finally bit the club.

Maybe he could find his love from here.

Silvester approached the counter and asked for one beer from the bartender. He got it almost right away and he took a swig of the beer before spotting someone rather good-looking in the distance. It seemed they were alone. He smiled and immediately approached them "Hey there. You seem to be lonely. Want some company?" Silvester had thought about that pick up line for the past 4 hours. He didn't want to come off as too strong but also not too embarrassing. He did feel a bit embarrassed but it almost immediately faded away when you looked at him.

"I would really enjoy some company right now" You answered, your beautiful, lively eyes making Silvester's heart flutter. You were absolutely gorgeous. "Well then, I don't think you mind me joining you in this fine evening" Silvester joked a bit and it made you crack a small smile in response. You looked at the bartender and ordered a few shots of vodka as well as a beer. He looked at you surprised "Vodka? Raw vodka? Oh I like you. Feisty." Silvester teased and you smile in response. "Oh you're gonna make me blush" You answered and swatted your hand at him a bit "I must say, you seem like someone who can handle that as well. Is it true or is it just your looks?" You questioned and Silvester was more than happy to answer "I can drink as much I want. I have a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol"

-A few moment later-

You and Silvester are talking and laughing together while sitting at a booth together. They have had a few more drinks than necessary, but you were more drunk than him. He liked the fact that he could drink a lot without really getting drunk, but the moment he drinks too much, he gets incredibly horny to the point where it's hard to hide.

He gets closer to you and smiled "Wanna know something?" Silvester whispered seductively in your ear, making you smile and let out a slight laugh "Tell me anything. I won't be able to remember it" You said, way too drunk to realize what you were saying. "I'll make sure you never forget what i'm going to tell you" Silvester spoke

He leaned closer to you, his hot breath against your neck, then he whispered softly "I'm really horny. I need help" Silvester said in an almost innocent tone, except the topic of the thing was no where near innocent "You are?" You question "How can I help?" Silvester smiled "I really want a blowjob. We could go into the bathroom. But I don't want to use your drunkenness, so be sure you really want this, okay? I would never want to hurt you" You nodded in response "I'm not that drunk to not make a decision. I really want it." You said and smiled gently at him. Silvester smiled and took your hand. "Let's go then."

He took you to the bathroom of the club and pushed you into one of the stalls. You let out a slight gasp when he closed the door and kissed you deeply. "oh... Silvester" You let out and he smiled "Just call me Silver" He said and you nodded. He then sat down on the surprisingly clean toilet seat and looked at you "On your knees" He said and you complied with ease, getting down in front of him. You have done this once or twice before, but this felt better. This felt different in a good way. It felt more real even when you met Silvester just a few hours ago. You watched as he unbuckled his belt and then undid the zipper on his pants. You were a bit too eager to admit it, but he stopped "are you sure about this? I'm fine if you don't want to do this at all, you know?" Silvester explained. It made your heart fill with happiness that he cared so much "i'm sure of it. I promise" You said in a comforting manner and he smiled "Alright. If you say so"

NSFW FROM DOWN HERE

Then he pulled his pants down enough to reveal his shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, but you also felt joy and gratefulness towards Silvester for respecting your boundaries and feelings. You really felt that he cares.

You looked up at him and he nodded, giving you permission to do what you wanted. He gave you the lead for now. With a bit of a shaky hand, you reached to stroke him slowly, teasing the tip mostly. It made him let out a slight moan and it made you feel a sense of pride. You got a bit more brave, now stroking him with both of your hands. He gasped at the feeling and you kept stroking him. Silvester put his hands in your head in a caring manner, stroking your hair softly as you stroked his length.

Eventually, you put your mouth at the tip of his shaft, remembering from your last times to use your tongue. You swirled your tongue around the tip, your mouth making slurping sounds inevitably. Silvester still had a grip on your hair, but it got more firm as you took him deeper in your mouth "Mhh.. Keep on going, just like that baby" Silvester moaned as he pushed your head down on his cock a bit, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You moaned around him, making shivers run down his spine at the feeling. He loved the feeling so much and would do anything to get you to do whatever you want with him everyday. He had recieved a blowjob before, but you were excellent, despite not being overly experienced.

Silvester wanted you to start bobbing your head so you wouldn't take him too deep in your mouth and gag, but at the same time something inside him wanted to just push your head down as far as it could go, until his tip hit the back of your throat, then mouth-fuck you until you were out of breath. He weighed his options, whether he should do it or not. He decided that it would be the best to just let you go at your own pace, which you did. You began to bob your head up and down at a pretty fast pace, making him groan and throw his head back in pleasure. You looked up at him while sucking him and that was his last straw.

Without hesitation, he pushed your head down onto his dick and began to thrust up at a wild yet gentle pace, making you gag slightly. You got used to it rather quickly and just continued to enjoy putting your mouth to good use and satisfy Silvester like this. You moaned around his dick and he looked down at you. You looked so gorgeous like this. He picked up the pace until he, out of breath, said in a rough voice "I'm close. Do you want me to pull out?" he asked and you closed your eyes, trying to signal him that it was fine if he came inside your mouth. He thought for a moment and decided to pull out just before reaching the edge, he stroked himself a couple of times and then ropes of that hot, sticky liquid covered your face slightly. You moaned softly, opening your mouth to catch some in your mouth. It was incredibly hot for Silvester to watch, and he couldn't help but keep stroking himself until he has completely emptied himself on your face. He was out of breath and he threw his head back to try to catch it.

After a while, he came down from his high and looked at you as you stood up from the floor unlocking the bathroom door and going to wash your face at the sink. Silvester smiled, cleaning himself up with some toilet paper and then fixing his pants. "So that was fun, yeah?" Silvester asked, making you giggle slightly "Yeah. Was fun. Maybe we could do this again sometime. Unless you are busy" You said and turned around. Silvester softly took you by the chin and kissed your lips, tasting himself on your lips slightly "Mhh... I'm up for it. Only if you promise that I can do something for you in return the next time.

"It's a deal." You answered and left the bathroom with a slight wink, leaving Silvester there with a smirk on his face, and looking forward to his next time with you.

===============

[green-swan]

cigarette or zoot? (pt. 1) | joost klein x f1! driver (fem!reader)

in which london and smoking are synonymous with meeting a cute dutch artist

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when AVROTROS approached her about eurovision, she thought they made a mistake. max was dutch. she wasn't. her lithuanian roots were deeper than any other identity she could've carved for herself. in the end she agreed; going in their cars with max around the city of malmö, visiting a few eurovision parties and most importantly, interact with joost klein (whom she didn't know, mind you) and teach him how to use an F1 simulator. this was going to be a heavy week. thank god it was in a month, right now she had a race to win.

first came the party - london was a welcome destination for the young driver. she thrived under the busy nature of it even in what some would call late, and others early, hours. she couldn't say the same for crowds though, the moving mosh of strangers all too close to each other and trying to show their superiority (the latter was aimed at men to be fair). she did see silvester, and the two had a lengthy conversation that didn't come to a conclusion but rather stayed at "what the fuck, let's make lithuania internationally famous!" she had hoped for a good place in eurovision, if not victory, while silvester (silvestras sounded more like home) had voiced his wish for her to win the upcoming miami grand prix and not only become the first female to do so, but also the first from lithuania. the pressure was on.

unfortunately, she lost silvester after getting a drink, so what really was the point of staying in the now airless room? she grabbed her drink and went to the rooftop that really should've been closed. her short frame slumped against a railing and she lit a cigarette, making it a point to hold it between her thumb and index finger. it was quiet, and london shimmered in different shades of yellow and white. so many people, some praying, some arguing, some alone. it felt peaceful despite the harsh wind that threatened to put out her cigarette.

"cigarette or zoot?" an accented voice sounded out, breaking the howls of wind. she turned around, spotting a man in what would've been a formal outfit had it not been for the pyramid-shaped shoulder pads on his blazer. joost klein, the man she was meant to interact with in front of cameras later that month. "cigarette," she answered, "though they call them something else here," she finished with an unsure smile. "i thought we couldn't bring tobacco in here?" he questioned, with a miscievous undertone in his voice. "they didn't check me, so it's on them," the driver shrugged, "why? you want one?"

"god, yes please!"

she took out another one from her pack, put it in between her glossed lips (joost thought that the gloss suited her) and lit it before giving it to the dutch man. "you know, i once tried eating a cigarette," he started, earning an incredulous look from the shorter girl. "what? did it taste good?" her curiosity was cute, "what do you think?"

"i once nearly swallowed jet fuel," she said with sympathy, "i get it."

joost knew who she was, well vaguely. the only female formula 1 driver and the only lithuanian on the grid. so why did AVROTROS want him to interact with her in addition to her dutch teammate? by that point, the wind had calmed down, an eery silence on brink of errupting had it not been for the music blasting from downstairs. she hummed a few lyrics before he spoke up, startling her heart as if she'd forgotten that he was indeed still there.

"can i take a picture of you right now?"

"why?"

"you're pretty. you look really beautiful in this moment, and i want to capture it."

she thought for a moment. "okay, if you let me take one of you after." he smiled. (he was so going to convince her to be on the cover of his next album)

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note: jumping on the joost klein bandwagon (hehe been a fan for a while! got tickets for his europapa tour so i've been riding on cloud 9). i also love formula 1 and so thought why not combine them?

as the first paragraph indicates there will be (probably short and sweet) chapters and maybe extra ones after if this goes well <3

[creativewritersposts]

a damn poet - Connor Bedard

requested; @chericherilvr 💓

summary; Connor Bedard x reader

Connor is so busy trying to have his best season that he forgets about things that really matter. He needs to learn how to be a poet to save your relationship.

warning(s); angst! fluff, argument, maybe grammar errors

author's note; it took me hours to finish this one. It was an honor for me to write this request. ♡

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Deep in your heart you know how Connor feels for you. He wouldn't invite you over another continent, joining his world championship, if he wouldn't love you. But something inside you breaks. Seeing all these hockey couples with cute pictures, sending their girlfriend flowers and the players screaming from the rooftop how much they love their girlfriends.

Connor is not like this. He loves you, he cooks your favorite food and watches all movies you want to watch. He's so focused to play the best rookie year he could do and lost the focus on his private life. He doesn't want to post your relationship official, because of his fan base.

You're self-evident for him.

"Hey love", you smile with big eyebags, touching his shoulder as he walks in the hotel room. It's your first time after three days having a real conversation with him.

"Hi", his mouth is straight, kissing your temple and waking in the bathroom. You're exhausted from love-bombing him. You're so tired of being so upset.

"How was your day?", you ask him, hearing the shower. "I can do better", his voice echos back. "You're already enough, my love", you shout back and throw your body into the bed. You spread your arms apart, your legs are on the ground.

Connor comes out after a few minutes ago in a towel, his hair is still wet and he's looking fine.

"What is that?", he grabs a paper from the desk.

"So I hold onto your shirt, as I stain it with blood

Will I finally find my own peace?

Clear my mind out of my thoughts, then state that I'm in love

Tempted with the idea of dying in these sheets"

"I'm writing songs ", your voice shakes. Connor never noticed this because he's always busy and you're asleep when he comes home. You're working full-time in a job you don't like and at night you're writing songs. Hopefully to live from that one day.

Connor looks up from these lines, "since when?", he breathes in. Hid eyes get red. Red like crying. "over a year", you sit up on the bed, your arms are supporting your back.

"Why didn't you tell me, babe?", he sniffles.

Babe. How long didn't you hear this nickname?

"You were busy", you tell him the truth. Maybe he'll break up with you. Connor sobbs, "are you really feeling this way? Finally finding your own peace?", his blue eyes searching yours, you can see how much it burdens him.

"your lyrics are professional, they're so good", he cries and tries to hide it. Whipping his tears with his wrist, face to his bag with all clothes.

He's putting a shirt on, turning around. "I just need time to realize this, babe", he kisses your lips, you taste the salt from his tears.

"You have an important game tomorrow, I'm ok with that ", you response. He nods and lays down. Without a kiss, hug or this comfortable feeling.

He lays down and let you alone with all these thoughts in your head. He doesn't seem to care much about you. Maybe it's time to leave.

Next day Connor feels like shit, even in his hockey clothes, nice fans around his team. He slept surprisingly well, but feels like the night after silvester.

It burns in his chest, you don't feel happy. But why? Since when you're writing songs? as a good boyfriend he should know. What is he missing in this relationship.

He's not shitty boyfriend, he didn't know it's hurting you. He thought its okay that he's having a strict time schedule.

"Concentration, Bedsy!", his teammate hits his shoulder to wake him up from daydreaming. Like a robot Connor played his best game but the celebration feels like a crime.

"Yo Connor are you going out with us?", some boys asking him in the cabin to celebrate their win. "No", he wants to see you. He forgot how stunning you are. How hard working you are. You're a poet and he had no clue!

He walks in your hotel room, lights are out. Just some papers all over the bed. He grabs one paper, reading the lines.

'He grabs me by my neck

Puts a dagger to my heart

Tells me I'm a mess

That I'll never be enough'

Gosh, it hits him. You are more than enough. You're his safe place. He reads every paper, focused about what you feel. It's time to hear out what you need.

He grabs his phone, calling you.

"Hello?", your voice sounds happy. "Where are you, babe?", he asks interested. "I'm at the whirlpool inside the hotel, I'll come over in 5 minutes, okay?", you're scared he's mad when you're late. You thought he's celebrating with his team and won't come to bed until midnight.

You pack the stuff and walk back to your shared room.

The opened door shows you the sort out papers with your lyrics on your bed shelf.

Connor lays in bed, smiling softly. It's typical Connor, he's a clean guy.

He smiles. He smiles at you without talking about hockey. "Congratulations for winning, I'm proud of you", you stutter.

This view feels so surreal, having a relationship after months. Having a boyfriend waiting for you.

"You look beautiful", he grins angelic.

You stopped the last step, "what did you say?". Maybe you have issues with your ears.

"You look beautiful and I love you", he talks loud.

"Love you too?", your honest reaction. The last time he said it, he broke is jaw and was out of his mind because painkillers. Months ago.

"Uhm can we talk, please?", he pets your hand, when you lay down with him. It feels like home. Smelling his perfume, hearing his breath and touching you.

"Sure", you get insecure what's coming next.

"Ok it's not easy for me", one tear runs down his cheek. You're frightened, just able to nod.

"Why do you write songs with me as enemy?", his voice is distanced and cold.

"Oh I'm sorry I don't write lies!", you defense yourself.

"I'm a good boyfriend!", he argues, "you treat me like I'm self-evident!", you yell your frustration out of your lungs. So much pain inside your chest wants to come out of your mouth. So much unsayed words.

"No-", he argues back, more tears are coming out his blue eyes.

"Yes Connor! Yes, it's true! I love writing songs and I hate my job so much! I am crying every night because my boyfriend doesn't care about me and I'm all alone and you're hiding me from fans because you could have a ruined career, I get it!", you sob under choking your salty tears. You're outraged.

You take your pillow and lay down on the floor, Connor looks down, "come over".

"No", "god damn come over!", he huffs.

"You have practice tomorrow, good night!".

That's the last time you saw him for the next two days. He's busy. Semifinals are tonight and Connor posted something on Instagram, you're too upset to check.

One WAG comes to you at the game, giggles and tells you, "never thought Bedsy is a poet!". The game is already on fire but your fingers are like a magnet, they want to switch what he posted - even if he's an idiot.

He posted a picture of you reading a book in the garden, laughing at you without pressure, without hockey and in his caption;

"You can feel, when someone traces your skin

You can kneel, run, jump and also can spin

And when I close my eyes I wish I was just like you"

[sunny-mercya]

The Cruel King

01. Trigger

Nordic 5 x Male Reader

Fandom -> Hetalia

Masterlist | Next

»Älskling,«

Berwalds voice was gruff as always—deep and rough like old firewood—throughout the years it had become to age like this.

Normally Berwald didn't need to wake you up and if they had to, Tino would be the one who does it—though Tino was currently busy downstairs, trying to tame the Dane and having everything in a civil matter—and if Berwald had reasons to wake you, it would be during the times you would get sick.

»Älskling,« Berwald tried again, shaking your shoulder slightly—trying to get a reaction of stirring from you. No avail, you wouldn't bug. You probably were already awake, just opted to make it seem as if you were still sleeping.

Berwald heaved out a sigh, sitting down on the edge of your—their—bed. Running his calloused hand over your shoulder, arm and back. Hoping if he could easy you a bit, you were more willing to get up.

»Älskling, he isn't gonna hurt you anymore. I promise and if he might try, the others and I will be here to keep you safe.« he had leaned down, sure that he will get some minimal backache from it, whispering the promise into your ear.

It had been only the second day since the Dane—Matthias—had been stayed over in their home—the whole family does during Christmas, which is a absolute first after all these years of not—and it already had started a downhill in your mood.

You turned only slightly towards Berwald, looking at him with bleary puffy red eyes. With a slight intake of motion you gestured to Berwald to lay down next to you, which he—with slight hesitation of not wanting to get too cozy when work had to be done—does as you asked.

For a long time of by passing seconds which turns into minutes—and then perhaps into a hour or two—you starred at Berwald, playing with his fingers, leaving a silence between you two.

»It's only till after Silvester«

»I–I can't–can't go down there, where—where Mat–mat–mat–where he is. I just can't Ber, it's too much–too much to bear.«

You clenched your eyes shut, memories of the past flooding your mind, bringing another wave of trembling havoc.

Berwald fingers wandering towards your cheek, caressing over them.

»I know älskling, I know. But you have to get up at one point or you will make Tino into a worried mother-hen.«

With that being said, Berwald got off the bed and in one swift motion scooped you up in his arms and carry you downstairs into the livingroom.

~~~

Tino, while cooking todays lunch, cast every so often—when he could leave the stove and the dish preparing alone for every two minutes— a worried glance into the livingroom towards you.

You, who sats apathetic on the Sofa—watching with no interest some show on the tv and listen to Peters—who plays with his Legos—happily chatter. Emil, who sat next to you, occasionally shows you something in the book he reads.

It was good that it was just them in the house for now. Because if Matthias would be here—which he is not as Berwald took him out to get more firewood—the entire mood would drop into a 360° degree angle of downhill.

Still Tino felt like as if it had been a bad idea to celebrate Christmas, after all these decades of years and centuries—after their separations of independence—together as a family.

Too soon it was perhaps as the mental scars of abuse, neglect and tyranny you had endured hadn't healed.

»Tino, relax. If you run like a worried mother-hen you will make yourself stressed out.« said Lukas, sipping his fifth cup of coffee.

»I know I know, just, have you seen [Name]? I'm worried it will end into another decaying episode of lasting Depression. It took us years to have him as of now, happy, lively.«

»Tino, I know. I was there too. Still, getting yourself worked up, will cause him just as much stress as yourself.«

Tino sighed in defeat, nodding at Lukas and returning his attention fully back to the cooking. Lukas was right, worrying would just make it worse, he needs to stay calm—having a level headed mind.

Lukas downed the rest of his coffee, standing up from the chair and going towards the counters—about to prepare his next and last cup for the next few hours.

»We all know how Matthias was back then and we also know that he has changed to someone better. It just, [Name] has stayed too long, too loyal with him during his wrath time that it will take more than just a few hundred years to grant him a forgiveness.«

Tino hummed, giving no reply to what Lukas had said as he was right. Though his mind wanders back to the rough times in the past and when [Name] came to them and asked for sanctuary.

~~~

Lunch had been uneventful, embossed with unnerving silence and still apathetic behaviour—you barely touched the food, only having about three bite before pushing the plate away and toying with the napkin—from your side and excitedly loud chatter from Matthias.

It had been afterwards that you started, in a way they didn't thought would happen again, react again.

Matthias had said something in Danish to you, something innocently mundane with a cheeky smile of his—thought he could bring you to talk, wanting to hear your voice—your cheerful chatter—after so long again.

In a flash you turned around to him. Body going rigid into a lock. Wide eyed you starred at him—at Matthias—and then as if you were in a sort of trance, on autopilot, you bowed down and replying in old danish back to him.

They all, especially Matthias, were perplexed at your action. Watching how you took Emil by his hands and taking him upstairs—coming back down seconds after, walking into the livingroom and taking a whole box of Peters toy with you to whichever room you had taken Emil.

Lukas pursed his lips, crossing his arms and tilting his head a bit as he glanced with narrowed eyes at Matthias. Scoffing just slightly under his breath. He had a hunch to what just happen—why you begun to act like this—so out of character and at the same time it wasn't—and it wasn't even Matthias fault, but it was—not with what he had said today, but with his actions he had done in the past.

»Huh, I've never seen my Skat act like this.« mused Matthias out, genuinely confused. He shrugged it off albeit, grin returning to his lips and saying something along the lines of; c'mon Peter let's go and build some snowmans

Whilst Lukas begun to walk upstairs, it was now Berwalds turn to glare with a narrowing gaze at the Dane.

»Ber, don't.« whispered Tino to his Husband, placing a hand on his arm. Starting now a fight, wouldn't be a great idea.

~~~

»What you're doing there [Nickname]?« Lukas leaned against the doorframe, having found you and Emil rather quickly.

»Keeping watch over our little Emil like the good Servant I am. The great King is not supposed to be distributed during the time of after lunch.« as you told Lukas, you had switched from old danish to norwegian and into your own native tongue—Schurlisch—in a spawn of seconds.

Lukas was rather glad that they all had decided to learn each other's language.

You started to whisper reassuring words to Emil. Giving him a comforting smile—of the kind he remembers when Emil had been little and when Matthias had one after another, too many, drunken nights which were more than often filled with manic, anger and bloodshed—taking another Wooden toy and showed it to him.

Unfortunately his guess had been right. Matthias causal use of „Skat“ had triggered your mind back into the old past. You had lost your grip on reality—thinking you are Matthias spouse, but also Servant and assistant, again.

A sad sight to witness, though who could and would blame you? It wasn't your fault that you were scarred, brand-marked even, by the past and actions of someone you once loved.

Lukas debated with himself, weighing out the pros and cons, if he was about to play along or trying to pull you out of this reality stupor.

»You want me to join in?«

»Are you finish with your today's duties?«

»Indeed I am, Vennen«

«Then suit yourself, mei freunor«

For now, just for today, Lukas mused in thoughts as he sits down across from you and Emil, he would play along.

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 1

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 12.5k

A/N: Hey guys. This is going to be very diferent from my usual writing style. Ive decided to drastically improve my formatting and actually got a beta reader if you can belive it. Hopefully this will be a step in the right direction for me. Enjoy!

This was going to drive him up a wall. His assistant had to be testing him because there was no other explanation as to why he would fail so spectacularly. He weighed the pen deliberately between his fingers, awful. A mere ballpoint pen, with weak half-carbon ink that could not write worth a damn under pressure, Robinson had brought it to him and had left far too quickly to be questioned as to why he brought him this garbage and where his Uni-ball Jetstream RT pen was. He had a box specifically for them, if the last one he was using had been damaged, and the refills were in a color-indicated container so that running out of the non smudging, waterproof oil based ink was never a problem. He vehemently refused to waste the precious paper of his Moleskine Pro notebook on this abomination and was forced to scramble around to find a stack of printer paper. The mere horror of having to write his notes on such a thing took up a whole two minutes, and his process of stapling enough pages together took him a whole other three, so his attention was only halfway with the commentators as they discussed the preamble for the game. He knew all of it anyway, but he would have much rather been properly focused on the TV standing tall in front of the desk he had set up.

Even when he had finally settled down, he was still irked senselessly by the memories that flooded his mind of his assistant telling him to take it easy on this game. That it wasn't a big deal, as the novelty of the Alterra Giants forming a twin female team had worn off. To be fair, it was Alan's first dive into the female hockey division. And the response from his audience to him covering women's hockey hadn't exactly been a fantastic incentive to continue. From a purely financial perspective, a stack of stapled paper and a barely functional pen would be what this game deserved. He would be better off getting his notes for his final coverage of the female division of the Alterra giants done quickly, making it a short section on the video, and preparing to talk about the Reapers’s new coach. Unfortunately for him, there was a problem. A big gaping hole in that sound line of logic.

The women's division of the Alterra Giants was one of the best teams he had ever seen.

Ryley suggested that it might simply be lackluster competition and the significantly higher funding that came with being associated with a famous male team, but Alan knew better. The way they played was impeccable. They were simultaneously ruthless and extremely synergized as a team. The team members' individual stats rivaled most men on the rink, and those team members were all from highly successful teams beforehand. By all means, the Alterra Giants were a phenomenon to keep track of. Alan easily found himself frustrated by the reaction on social media to his coverage of them. He had believed that he would have cultivated an audience that cared enough about the sport itself and how it was played, as opposed to a bunch of nitwits that used his channel as a vehicle to engage in endless drivel about the same seven teams and would throw a tantrum when he dared to look away. He had given up on discussing historical games because of the low engagement, and he did not want to give up on something he cared about again. He had quit his job as an official commentator to pursue this path with his own Youtube channel, to have the freedom to discuss what he wanted however he wanted. So he would stick to his choice of subject matter as stubbornly as he stuck to his choice of pen.

There were some other particular points of interest in this game. They were playing against the Trivalves, a much older team but one with very little fanfare. Mediocre win streak and only one title to their name in two thousand and ten. What was somewhat intriguing was that this would be the debut of three new players on the team. Olivia Lopez, Sarah Church, and Robin Ayou.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had broken a tooth. It was nipping the side of her cheek in a way she was sure would leave a mark, but she had yet to taste blood. She had tuned out most of coach Maidas speech, she was sure she would get scolded for it. She kept quiet mostly, only offering vague vocalizations of acknowledgement to test out her ability to speak. It didn't hurt horribly. She ran her tongue over it carefully, confirming it was one of the left teeth on the side, hopefully not immediately obvious if she kept a low profile.

It had been a goal. That's all that mattered. She had humiliatingly fallen to the cold ice floor when she hit the puck from halfway across the rink and managed to score. She was sure as hell not going to get kicked out of the match now, three minutes into the game. The injury could be dealt with later; no one had to know about it. Her mouth guard still fit just fine and actually dulled the pain. She adjusted her helmet and gripped her stick tighter. Stepping out onto the rink, she could only wish she had done her hair a little tighter.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are one hell of a stupid kid, ain't ya girl?” coach Marguerite Maida let out while pinching her nose bridge standing opposite to the young woman that sat on the locker room bench pressing an ice pack to the side of her face, the taste of blood finally making its appearance.

“I got us three goals. I won! Shouldn't we be celebrating right now? Ow! Ooooohhh…” Robin failed to protest. The coach ran her palm across her face before gesturing wildly, slouching her posture and bending her knees almost as if to get down to her level.

“That is the BARE minimum you can do! And the next time you won't have beginner's luck riding on your dick.”

“It was against the Alterra Giants! That can't be luck, I destroyed them!”

“And destroyed your goddamn mouth to boot!”

“Listen- ow ow ow ow… You told me to never be a pussy and get back up no matter what. And trust me coach, if I can get over you fucking my sister, I can move past anything.”

She expected a scowl but received a smirk, almost as if the coach suddenly got some malevolent idea.

“Oh yeaaaaah, what will Samantha think of you galavanting around, breaking teeth like they're candy?”

Robin's smile dropped. Her brows furrowing and her shoulders tensing up, she lowered the ice pack and glared at the woman in front of her.

“You wouldn't dare…”

"Oh, I would sweet cheeks. And I'll do it right now.”

She pulled out her phone, and Robin was ready to jump her and get it out of her hands if her life depended on it, but at that precise moment, the rest of the team burst into the locker room, cheering and chanting in celebration. Robin was quickly picked up by a larger teammate and paraded around like a trophy. She got too caught up being red in the face to realize the coach leaving the room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Woman, you are in your twenties, she's not gonna hit you with a belt.”

Calvin looked over at his friend, who was fretting over her phone right next to him on the couch. They were supposed to be celebrating, beer and pizza abundant across the table, the TV gleaming in the mostly dark living room. He was shocked that she was glued to her phone even as the documentary narrator started talking about Ventgarden leviathans, her favorite leviathan that just yesterday she had yapped his ear off about a new documentary that had come out where they actually got footage inside it, and now that they were watching it, all she could do was wait for a scolding like she was a little kid.

“What would you fucking do if your mom called wanting you dead?!” she yelled hysterically, gripping her phone so hard she might break it.

"Robin, you have a mom, you don't have to be more afraid of your sister than you are of her.”

She pouted at him and proceeded to aggressively finish another slice of pizza. It was her cheat day after all. If Maida knew about this, she would surely finally just up and kill her.

"Well, you should be asking Sam why she's dating a woman old enough to be her mom.”

“Weren't you thirsting about that old guy in the commercial last week? I'd say it runs in the family.”

“He was hot! Shut up! And also even then she didn't have to date my fucking coach.”

“I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.”

“I win three to two against the Alterra giants, and this is how all of you thank me?!” She crossed her arms and sank further into the couch.

She had every intention to stay like that the rest of the night, but her eyes focused on the TV. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. The diver was at the bottom of a heat vent overlooking an adult Ventgarden, its maw beneath the tentacles fluttered open and the diver with the camera strapped got closer. Robin held her breath as she watched it, expecting a cut, but she couldn't help but have her eyes wide open and her mouth agape as they moved inside when its mouth opened. The diver spun around, showing a full three sixty view of the mesmerizing inside of the creature; large tree-like protrusions decorate the inside, alive with a multitude of plants and minerals. The large cone shaped structure at the top of its translucent bell shone like a divine chandelier. It took her a couple of seconds to remember to inhale.

“You know they base a type of underwater greenhouse on this leviathan?”

“Yes Robin, you've told me this six times.”

"Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”

They sat in silence, finally enjoying the documentary. Mostly Robin did, Cal opted to fiddle with his phone and briefly chuckled at a text he received.

“Yo, actually. Turns out Ryley works for a guy that has a hockey channel on youtube.”

Robin looked over at him, unimpressed and mostly annoyed that she had to divert her attention from the documentary to respond.

“You waited until now to find out what your new boyfriend does for a living?”

Cal turned slightly red at the accusation, scratching the back of his neck.

“Shut up you nearly got engaged to a girl you knew for a week.”

“THAT WAS A JOKE!”

“Sure, anyway, Ryley's boss is apparently insane and he's telling me he just went ballistic on him for bringing him the wrong pen.”

“Well what the hell do you expect from a man with a youtube channel.”

“True, but check it, it's Alan Silvester.”

Her expression barely changed.

“Don't play the name game with me.” she deadpanned.

“The commentator??!” Whether he sounded incredulous or offended, she couldn't tell.

“NHL?”

“Yeah!”

“Haven't kept up with it, sorry.”

“You are the only person who doesn't watch the NHL.”

“I do! Ive just been busy, you know, playing my own fucking league!”

“He was a commentator four years ago!”

Robin returned to looking at the screen, they were now talking about Snow stalkers, which was much more interesting to her.

“Who cares? He sounds like an asshole.”

"Yeah, you'd know.”

“Piss off.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stayed late. It nearly felt like it was going to boil him alive but his routine took a back seat today. He needed to do this now. He stayed late in his office, the game long over, and the arena now silent. The harsh glow of his computer screen and the soft hum of the heater kept him awake. He had his computer and his two notebooks and finally his preferred pen all lined up as he paused and unpaused the tv. This was his third rewatch of the game. He watched it re-reading the notes he took initially, then again finally taking new notes with the right notebook and pen, and finally, what he had originally planned on doing tomorrow, go through the game bit by bit, pausing and rewinding while writing down on his Midori MD notebook. After that, he would use all he had written down to begin writing the script for the video.

He paused the screen on a frame of her face.

She was injured. Seemingly nobody else could tell. He hadn't seen a goal like that in months, somehow flying past the other team's perfect coordination. It was almost as if it were mathematically calculated on the fly. Only to then proceed to fall flat on her face. It was undeniable that she carried the game, but her apparent inability to do so without nearly breaking her jaw was fascinating. He couldn't help but chuckle at himself as he watched her smash into the boarder of the rink for the second time. Clumsy wasn't quite the word to describe her. It would have been much simpler if he could pin her down in any way. Her playstyle was erratic, she played well enough with her team, but there were times where it appeared as though the world around her disappeared and she was locked in to the goal. She simultaneously had incredible and terrible spatial awareness, and the crazy thing is that it all somehow brought her to victory against one of the most ruthless teams he had ever seen. To say she had potential felt like both an understatement and also blatantly wrong. She was more akin to throwing a bull in a flock of sheep and seeing what happened. The entire time, he couldn't help a certain giddiness from filling him. He wasn't going to be covering anything other than the PHF for the time being. Audience engagement be damned. This was too damn fun.

His determined scribbling was interrupted when he felt a buzz in his right pocket. He stiffly put the pen and notebook down as his back straightened subconsciously. Suddenly the glow of the television in the otherwise dark room felt like something he had to fix, his jacket something to take off indoors, his shades neatly contained in their case in his left drawer something to be ashamed of, and the hour he was out of the house at a death sentence. His chosen ringtone, the only one that didn't drive him insane, made him feel cumbrous. Alan hesitated for only a second before pulling out the phone and staring at the screen. He already knew who it was. Nobody else ever called him. He paused the game. Both sounds at once were searing to his senses. Of course. This was inevitable. He had sworn to himself that he would call at the right time from his office and save himself the trouble. This was just his unavoidable punishment for breaking his perfectly calculated routine, because the damage it did to his nerves wasn't suffering enough.

The phone was still ringing. He took a deep breath and placed it down on the table and answered, immediately putting it on speaker.

“Mothe-“

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I-“

“You scared me beyond belief! Where are you?”

“At home.”

He definitely felt his eye twitch as he said that but he would live.

“Who are you with? You should have called me, Alan, who is at your house right now?”

"Mother, no one. I am here alone.”

“You would have called me if you were alone at home, or are you out there somewhere? Why don't you call me when we agreed to?”

“I simply got caught up in… work, in work I have to do around the house. I was going to call you. It is only ten minutes late.”

“Hah! Tell me what of all the times you've yelled and cried and threw a fit when I was late to something then?! When I started lessons five minutes late Alan?! Are you going to pay me back for that?!”

“I have apologized multiple times for that mother. Please.”

“Oh! But then what about when the doctor took all of ten seconds to arrive and you threw a fit?!”

“I was five.”

“Don't get smart with me, I am still your mother. Now where are you and who are you with?!”

He thought about it. About the semantics of putting up a lie. Of how much it would take to convince her. Concluding that he could not fool her as she would eventually demand he share his location on his phone. He threw in the towel.

“Fine! I stayed late at the office working. I'm sorry. I won't let work interfere with our call agai-“

“Don't call it work! You had a job four years ago, and when you finally make something out of this obsession of yours you throw it away because, baby can't have everything exactly how he likes it!”

Her high pitched mocking tone made him grip the edge of the table.

“Mother, I have paid your electricity bill, water bill and phone bill for the month and I've been affording my medications just fine. You can't deny the fact that I make a living honestly.”

“I have done nothing but support you your entire life, the doctors told me you might never so much as be independent. I never gave up on you and even when you could have been a doctor you chose to throw our lives away because you could never let go of this game.”

He sighed, leaning back on his chair. He was too worked up by the game, that's why this felt more irritating than normal. Breathing out, he took the phone and turned off the speaker mode, putting it to his ear.

“What can I do to make this up for you?”

His voice was calm. Gentle. A practiced measure of breath that flowed just right in his voice to sound like what he had learned was supposed to be the sound of sincerity.

“Well you can get a real job first of all. But for this we can have lunch tomorrow. I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you Alan. You barely ever talk to me anymore.”

He pointedly ignores the urge to correct that he calls her every day at eight pm sharp. And that she visited his apartment unprompted last week.

“I miss you too.”

Gentle. He could not risk a hint of anything hard making its way onto his voice.

“I'll have something prepared for you tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Sweetie, I am not eating meat with peas again. We're going to a restaurant. It really is time you eat like an adult sometimes.”

He wanted to ask what exactly she meant by that but knew that doing so would only bring trouble.

“Alright sure. There are three places I like so-“

“I said like an adult. I'll pick the restaurant. There is this one near the house that I've been meaning to try.”

“What's it called?

He was already opening up a new tab on his computer to look up this restaurant, wanting to have a good look at the menu beforehand.

“I'll tell you where it is, when you come pick me up.”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself and immediately regretted it.

“What was that? Are you mumbling to yourself? What did you say? Are you giving me lip right after I give you a chance for me to forgive you?!

He felt himself deflate as he listened to the ranting on the other line. Dammit. While he listened he turned off the tv and began to pack his things to go home. He wouldn't be getting any more work done now.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She bonked her head against the wall. Leaning against it with all the weight of her misery. She had forgotten, she always did, and yet it felt worse every time. Robin groaned. No wonder her hair felt wrong. She had left her cornrows for an entire week too long. Sam having been the only one to have made note of it. Perhaps it had been her own dread that had led her to subconsciously procrastinate the hair appointment; those were the bane of her existence. She should just do what Sam did and cut it all as short as possible, but she knows she would cry at the mirror if she did that.

She removed her face from the wall. It was embarrassing to be moping like this out in the open. She wished they would have at least let her wait inside the hair salon, but she couldn't complain given that the stylist still chose to do her hair after she arrived twenty minutes late and let the next person take her spot, this was more of a time out than anything.

It didn't help that it was an absolutely miserable day. It wasn't raining but it could at any minute, the gray clouds overhead making their presence known citywide. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she had naturally overestimated her tolerance and had brought only a thin jacket. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, phone too low on battery for her to mindlessly scroll her time away.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

He was not faring much better, fighting for his life to not cave and order something from the children's menu out of pure desperation. The menu was an amalgamation of salads and pasta, and every time he found something that seemed fine, some ingredient showed up that made him shiver at the mere thought of it on his tongue. He measured how long he stared at each page after he read it, knowing that going through them too quickly or too slowly would earn him a comment from the woman sitting across from him. Who at the moment was rambling about her hair.

“It is only natural that hair begins to turn white mother, you shouldn't be this worried about it.”

“I know, but I don't want to look like an old lady, Alan. There is nothing more loathsome than white hairs on a woman.”

“And what about a man?”

“You know what I mean!”

He did not.

“I have white hair.” he uttered flatly. Her face did not change in the slightest at his words, but she did turn to look at him.

“You know I don't mean you baby. You are very handsome for having your condition.”

He only held in a breath and took the compliment as it was. Alan had never truly understood where he fell in the spectrum of physical appeal. Years ago, his coworkers had relentlessly mocked him when he revealed that the only reference he had at the time for his own appearance was his mother's opinion. And after, during his very short lived relationship, his girlfriend had only ever called him “unique” or "interesting." He eventually concluded that he was most likely unattractive, as he had observed that those who were societally considered the most appealing lacked any sort of condition or physical defect. A state of being incompatible with his albinism.

Thankfully, today the weather was easy on him. It was dark enough outside that he could comfortably leave his shades in their case, saving himself a lecture from his mother about wearing them indoors. The restaurant they were in was only being lit by the large windows that took up the wall, leaving their table in relative darkness at the corner of the space.

His mother kept on talking about the hair salon that was on the other side of the street and how nice the hairdressers were until he finally decided to look over.

He did not recall standing up.

His mother was already frantic, asking him what was wrong and telling him to sit back down, his eyes were glued to the other side of the street, at the wall that was barely there before it turned into a corner, and the woman leaning against it. On their own accord, his legs began to move. He only managed to barely stop himself to let out a breathy, “I'll be back.”

Before he was rushing out of the restaurant, fumbling with his cap and sunglasses, barely putting them on before stumbling outside. Alan damn near forgot to look for a crosswalk and was almost about to beeline it across the street. The fact that the woman had already caught him staring right at her and looked back only delighted him further. It took him much longer than he would have liked to cross the street properly and jog his way up to her.

“You're Robin Ayou!”

He basically cornered her against the wall with his massive stature, quite a feat given that Robin was quite tall herself.

“Oh my goodness I saw your debut yesterday, I must say it was fascinating! I need to know what your thought process was during that first goal and how you measure your passes, because I've only ever seen a few players do anything like it. It is only a first impression for the PHF but I briefly looked at some of your games in the NCAA and I noticed that you have been-“

“Wow wow! Ok pretty boy slow down!”

“I-... What?”

The rambling was abruptly cut off, as his shoulders fell along with any sign of life he exhibited. It seemed that he nearly stopped breathing for a second. As for Robin. She stood there, mouth open and eyes wide.

“That… was supposed to be an inside observation.”

She freaked out when his face got redder than she'd ever seen on anyone before, almost making her ask if he was ok and if she needed to call an ambulance. But she guessed it was inevitable, because this guy was fucking pale. The very little skin she could see was nearly flat white with a fleshy pink undertone. Now that she thought of it, she doesn't know why she ever thought he was pretty if she could barely see him under his sunglasses and the Florida Stalkers cap.

“Listen, I'm not the weirdo in this situation!” She flusteredly pointed at him, and his dumbfounded expression quickly made its way into one of epiphany.

“Oh. I did not introduce myself.” He deflated as he spoke, stiffening his shoulder and lowering his head to look at the floor. “My name is Alan Silvester.”

She could have sworn she'd heard that name before but could not for the life of her remember where.

“Alright… you clearly know who I am. Big hockey fan? Must be if you've got me pinned after being in the PHF for a day.”

There was something. An ever so subtle tug at the corner of his lips that Robin wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking so intently.

“Absolutely,” he said somewhat breathlessly. Robin couldn't help but smirk coyly.

“So what, you want an autograph or something?” She was only half joking.

“Oh, no. I actually work as an independent ice hockey analyst and it would be incredible if I could get your direct input for my content.”

It took her a minute trying to figure out what “independent analyst” meant. She could only guess he was some kind of reporter.

“What like an interview?”

Alan lit up just a little.

“That is a good way to format it. I've never had the opportunity to interview a player before! If you could be in the video, that would be incredib-“

“ALAN!”

He was abruptly cut off by the voice of a woman screeching from further down the street. His panic returned stronger than ever and he turned to Robin, frantically pulling out a receipt from his pocket and writing down a couple of things on the back of it.

“This is my channel and my assistant's phone number.” He barely got her to take it from his hands before he was yanked by the arm, a shiver violently rushing through his body leaving him grimacing and struggling against the older woman that had come up to grab him.

“I am so sorry! He didn't mean to scare you. He won't bother you again I promise!”

They were already halfway across the street when he yelled, “Call my assistant if you're willing to do an interview, please!”

“Shut UP Alan!”

The two began arguing until they both returned to the inside of the restaurant they came from and Robin was left staring at her own reflection. She nearly dropped the paper in her astonishment. She looked down at it and saw a number and the name of the man that had just accosted her. The woman could not think of what to even do with herself at that moment, so with the only brain cell she had left, she took out her phone and called Cal.

“I am not getting you coffee. Do that yourself,” was the first sentence she was greeted with when he answered the call.

“Cal, some guy just recognized me in the middle of the street and begged me to do an interview with him.”

“Oh shit after only one game? Who the hell was it?”

“He said his name was Alan… uuuuuh Silvester?”

The pause that ensued was unbearably long, so much so that she had to wonder if her signal had gone bad.

“Robin what the fuck?”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took all of one afternoon for Robin to lose the receipt with the phone number. She had intended to keep it, and she swore up and down she had put it in her pocket, but that was not good enough, and when she looked through the pockets of her entire wardrobe trying to find it, and was unsuccessful. It left her horribly distracted during practice, along with the feeling of her newly fucked tooth which she would keep accidentally poaking her tongue against. Fortunately, if Robin had only one thing, it would be exceptional luck. It was five pm by the time she stepped out of the arena, barely tired from the day's training. Normally she would take this time to go on a complimentary run, but she had to meet someone.

The bus takes light years to get there. Her motorcycle was still at the repair shop, and she had already spent enough on ubers for one day by taking one to the arena that very morning. She goes through the gates of the apartment building, and gets on the elevator. Her and Cal had keys to each other's houses. It was often very convenient, as it allowed them to get stuff at any time.

Robin obliviously opened the door and was greeted with a sight she had never hoped to see.

It was Cal and who she could only assume was his brand new boyfriend of two weeks, up against a wall, one shirtless, making out in the middle of the living room.

“Oooh! Ew! What the shit?!”

She yelled in disgust. They stopped what they were doing, and Cal turned around hysterically.

“Robin! Get out!”

“You are disgusting! You literally invited me over, and this is what you're doing?!”

They yell back and forth, and the other man awkwardly finds his shirt not too far away on the couch and puts it on again. He stands there for about ten minutes until the other two have argued for long enough that they fell bitterly silent. He eventually builds up the courage to speak.

“You're… the hockey player, right?”

“And youre the guy whose fucking my friend I see,” she responded sharply, making Cal step in between them with the intention of defending the other man's honor.

“Don't be mean to him, it's not his fault.”

She laughed almost bitterly. “I can only guess whatever editorial you work for only hires people with no social awareness.”

Ryley slid his hand across his face, almost painfully so, before taking a step towards her. "Ok, bitch, I WISH it was a fucking editorial, I work for a youtuber.”

“Oh, my god, I would actually kill myself,” she said quickly, though her voice did not have a hint of sympathy. Cal once again interjected.

“Robin, your entire electricity bill is basically just youtube.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. I thought you knew that.”

“Ugh, I wish my boss knew that. He is genuinely convinced he is a legit analyst. He takes it all super seriously,” Ryley huffed, hunching his back over in exhaustion at the mere mention of his work.

“I mean, sure he might… have a screw or two loose, but it just looks like he really cares.” Robin definitely didn't think the man seemed normal in any way, but she didn't detect anything malicious or really unforgivable about him.

“Oh he cares. He cares a lot. About every little thing. He only uses one specific brand and type of pen, and then writes his short notes in this one type of notebook and then writes his other notes in a different kind of notebook and he goes actual batshit if you don't bring him that. Like a third of the budget is only his supplies.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds insufferable,” she had to concede.

Ryley stepped forward, standing now in front of Robin. “Take it from me. Don't do it. He interviewed me when I applied for the job, and I've never been that uncomfortable in my life.”

Robin sighed and put her bag down on the floor by the door. She slumped over to the fridge, not bothering to ask for permission, and looked through it. Cal and her had completely opposite diets, meaning his fridge was always stocked with tasty food and drinks that a professional athlete should definitely not be consuming. Robin liked to make the excuse that because it wasn't her place or her money spent on the junk food then it didn't count. She took out a beer and made her way to look for a bottle opener.

“I mean sure this isn't as cool as being interviewed by like Sol Sports or whatever, but when am I going to get a chance to do this again?”

“You'll definitely be on youtube often if you keep falling over like that,” Cal chuckled. She did not find it funny and had no qualms about playing dirty.

“Shut your mouth or Imma tell him the thing.” She pointed at Ryley with her thumb.

Cal suddenly tensed up and whispered sharply: “You fucking wouldn't!”

“What thing?” Ryley asked, suddenly feeling stupid for not understanding whatever insider knowledge was being discussed. Robin only raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing! There is no thing to be talking about!” Cal hissed adamantly, and that was that. She finally got the beer open and chugged down. There was a hot minute of silence while she finished half the bottle.

“Listen“ -she burped. “How many subscribers does he have?”

“Gross. Last time I checked, about eight point fifty k.” Ryley quickly recounted.

“That's not that big.”

“It's been tanking quite a bit recently. He gets way more traction on his twitter.”

He approached to show her his phone and Robin took the opportunity to look up both the channel and the twitter account.

“Well now he's got eight k and one.” She tapped the subscribe button on the screen and soon after pressed follow on twitter.

“You're really doing this?” Cal wasn't surprised. Robin had always been somewhat of a diva, it didn't make him any less uneasy about the prospect.

“Fuck it. Why not? I get to look cool and professional, and he gets something to talk about. He's basically my number one fan. Come on.”

“He'd harass any player. You're not special,” Ryley dryly interjected, making Robin almost spike up like a cat in defensiveness.

“You don't know that!”

“Will your coach approve this?” Cal reminded her of her position in the metaphorical race. She winced at the mention of that woman.

“She's not the boss of me. I can do whatever I want.”

“Robin, she is quite literally the boss of you.”

“It'll be fine!” She looked over at Ryley with a smile. “Tell him I said yes. And that he's going to need to remind me cause I'm definitely going to forget.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His videos made their way onto her feed a few times now, but she kept putting them on “Watch later," telling herself she'd get around to watching them eventually. Some of them were hours long, how was she supposed to sit through that? She still had a while until her next game, so she fell into the lul of training, running, coming home, making impulse purchases online, and sleeping.

She had given Ryley her phone number and he then gave it to Alan. He had a… unique way of texting, sending absurdly long, multi paragraph messages that Robin could only skim through. What she had managed to keep up with was his twitter. He was really active. Talking with everyone who commented about the latest game, player, or strategy and would get into heated arguments with anyone who disagreed with him. Though he never seemed to do what you'd normally do on twitter and just insult them and have that be it. No, he would genuinely structure arguments, cite sources, and go on multi tweet rants, reaching the daily tweet limit constantly. She tried to find a picture of him or food or a tweet about the weather but every single thing he posted was dedicated to hockey through and through. It only took Robin a few minutes of scrolling to find a very common response;

“Bro is acoustic.”

Usually along with some meme. It triggered something sour in her mouth. She almost responded many times that it was wrong to assume things like that of people. That it wasn't some joke. But she knew she'd only look like a killjoy and might get some flack for it if she did. She thought, sure, he cared about this game a lot, it didn't mean there was anything…. wrong, with him. She could only think of how she would feel if people talked like that about her. If they joked about her being… deficient. She would distract herself quickly with internet brainrot before she got too caught up in that thought, lest she start drowning in memories of middle school again.

What mattered is she had a date, well it was technically a business meeting but she used that word to mess with her mom when she had to turn her down for dinner that day. Alan had scheduled it at a rather cheap restaurant, which she was happy about. She fucked up and showed up a whole thirty minutes early just to prevent being late, so she was walking in circles around the block, looking through her friends instagram stories as she went. Quickly going past one of Sam going out with her coach, ugh. She was on her ninth lap when she spotted an uproariously tall man with a jacket, sun shades, and a cap, this time with a Reapers logo on it. She only knew it was him by intuition before she waved at him as he walked over.

They only exchanged minor pleasantries before they made their way inside. By the time they had taken their seat at the table they were already approached by a waiter who clearly recognized him. He said that he would like some before ordering this time and the waiter left them alone. Robin could only smile amusedly.

“Come here often?”

He jumped a little, as if he wasn't expecting her to speak.

“Once a week. I am sorry. I chose this place because it is one I'm familiar with. I don't do well eating in new places. I know this is no place to bring a pretty lady.”

Robin briefly choked on her water, her expression hiding nothing. His deadpan face only made the ordeal stranger.

“What? I thought it was fair after “pretty boy."“

“I… thought you would forget that.”

“Miss Ayou, come on. I am autistic, not stupid.

The atmosphere dropped immediately. Her flustered expression quickly changed into one of deep discomfort. It took her a minute to figure out what to say next.

“Don't... don't say that about yourself.”

“It's true. Most people who are familiar with me have already figured it out. What's that stupid word they use on the internet for it now? Acoustic? I have no idea what the joke is supposed to be.”

Despite everything, he appeared as relaxed as ever. It only made her tense up more.

“It's not funny.”

“No, it is not. But when is X ever truly funny?”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

She insisted, leaning towards him. His relaxed expression fell away, replaced with guarded confusion as he finally took his shades off. His pale eyes looked at her with hesitant intensity.

“I never said there was anything wrong with me.”

Robin was slightly taken aback, some words she didn't know stuck in her throat. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

“I have made you uncomfortable.”

His sorry tone got the blood pumping back in her veins.

“No no no! You didn't! Ah, I'm just stupid, don't mind me. Heh…”

“You're not stupid.”

She smirked in a way that was weirdly tense but frighteningly natural for her. “Oh you don't know me. I'm a mess!”

She detected a hint of that smile again. At that moment he put away his sunglasses and took his cap off. Robin was a little shocked when seeing him. White down to his eyelashes. She was only mildly disturbed out of unfamiliarity and concern but at no point did she think the title of “pretty boy” was any less accurate.

“Well, messy maybe. I can't quite deny that after seeing you trip over yourself the way you did in that game.”

She sunk back in shame, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh! Don't remind me.”

“Are you alright by the way? You clearly hurt yourself.”

She looked at him in horror. “You could tell?”

“Apparently only me. I am sorry, the staff at your game didn't do a very good job at taking care of you.”

“They're not there to take care of us.”

“Yes they are. And so should you.”

She sighed. Just when she thought she'd met someone who wouldn't lecture her. “Ok, you're right.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“Answer what?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yes! I'm fine now, don't worry. Also…” She turned meek, playing with a coil of her hair now only in a ponytail.

“Hm?”

“Maybe, don't mention that in the video?”

“I can't make any promises. I aim for accuracy and transparency. Actually that is why I wanted to meet with you. I have written down the interview questions and wanted to give them to you before the day of recording,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to her. She looked at it briefly, only noting the first three questions before folding it up and putting it in her pocket.

“Wouldn't you want to ask me those, you know, on the interview?”

“I am not very well versed at interviewing people. So I decided to give you a heads up. I want you to go through them carefully and come up with the best, most detailed responses possible. And I wanted to discuss them all with you in case you took issue with any of them.”

She stared a bit dumbfounded before chuckling. “Well you sure are prepared.”

He straightened his jacket. “I am.”

She liked that.

“Sure, we'll talk about them in a minute. My friend told me that you used to be a commentator?”

“Oh yeah. Four years ago.”

Robin did some quick math and took a good look at his face.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty years old.”

“Oh shit!” she let out without meaning to. Her face went hot at the information, suddenly making her feel a little shy in front of him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing! That's great!”

“Really? That's a… pretty neutral piece of information.”

She laughed nervously. Fuck, she really was no better than her sister. “You just don't… look thirty.”

He suddenly snorted. Flushing red like crazy himself. She almost got scared again.

“I don't go out in the sun very often, so that might be it?”

“Oh yeah, I didn't want to say anything about it, but you're the single whitest person I've ever seen.”

“Albino. I mean, I am ethnically considered white as well. But my appearance is mostly the result of being an albino.”

“Oh like a Biter.”

Whatever smile there was dropped and he looked at her bewildered. It took Robin a second to realize that was a weird as fuck thing to say and she hurried to explain herself. “I- I mean… Agh! Sorry, I just thought of albino Biter fish and, oh nevermind, forget it, I'm sorry.”

“I didn't know fish could have albinism.”He couldn't help staring when her face lit up in delight. She excitedly pulled out her phone and began typing.

“Oh it's super cool! Look!”She pushed the phone to his face. It showed an image of a small, yellowish wrinkly animal with disturbing white eyes, two on each side.

“That is one strange looking…thing.”

“Well it's technically called a Blighter not a Biter. They’re slower than Biters and often get rejected from packs so they hunt alone.”

“They're really odd looking.”

“Oh you haven't seen shit. Wait a second.” She typed something again and happily pulled up the image.

“Oh, what the fuck is that?”

The image showed a massive creature, with four huge eyes, attached to a bulbous body stuck inside some sort of translucent jell sack, lord knows how many spindly legs and thousand yard stare.

“That's a crab squid! They're super hard to study because they can produce electromagnetic waves that temporarily shut down submarines.”

“Well I certainly wouldn't want to find that while swimming in the ocean.”

“Oh they can be aggressive. Lowkey filled with hatred. But I would give anything to dive with one of these.”

“Do you just like getting hurt?”

“I would be careful! I wouldn't want to scare it!”

“Well I'm a little scared of you right now.”

“Well how do you think I felt when you ran at me out of nowhere in the street after gawking at me like a lunatic?”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “Alright that is fair.”

She laughed and they finally ordered: he just said “the usual”. Meanwhile she had visions of coach Maida yelling at her about nutrition and ordered a salad. It had chicken at least. She suggested they share the cheapest wine bottle on the menu but he said he had to drive, and she couldn't convince him. After a few seconds of silence and eating, Robin proposed something.

“You know? I'm gonna try to get you tickets to my next game, get you the best look at the action.”

“Oh no, do not bother, I don't go to games.”

“What?! But you have to!”

“I don't like it.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“It's too loud, there are too many people, it's too bright and a myriad of other things. I tried it once when I was a kid and had a meltdown.”

He didn't catch on to how sad for him she felt in that moment.

“Im so sorry…”

“Don't be. If anything you should be sorry for my poor mother who worked extremely hard to obtain tickets and had to deal with me and leave early because I couldn't handle it.” He looked oddly neutral while he recounted the story. Not sad, but not warm either. His eyes looked dead as he stared down at his food. An omelette. It was awkward between them for a moment, before Robin took a long sip of her drink.

“So you've liked hockey since you were little?”

A certain liveliness came to his face. Not an expression, his features (as they had for most of the night) remained generally unmoving. It was something else. An unimaginably subtle opening of his eyelids and a straightening of his eyebrows.

“Yes, since I was nine.”

“How'd it start?”

"Well, it was one of the only sports I could play.”

“You played?!” She leaned back, entertained by the prospect.

“Only until I was eleven. The equipment got far too expensive. I don't miss it all that much to be honest.”

“Oh that sucks. But why could you only play that?”

“My school did a lot of extracurricular activities, that included multiple sports, but most of them were outdoors. I could not be outside the way the other kids could, so I played inside.”

“And you just got hooked on it.”

“I took it significantly more seriously than anyone on my team did. I always tried to strategize and play based on research, but unfortunately that is not a substitute for raw athleticism.”

“But you're huge! Like what? Two meters?”

“Two meters and ten centimeters, to be exact.”

“God, how do you even find pants?”

“It is, in fact, a nightmare, not to mention the right texture as well. But anyway, it is highly debated how much size matters in ice hockey, obviously it is an advantage, especially in defensive situations but there is more to the subject. There is a very interesting video about it, I'll send it to you. And also, I was actually very short when I was younger. The shortest one on my team.”

“Oh like a Gargantuan leviathan baby.”

“Are you always going to compare me to animals?”

“Hey, I'd take it as a compliment. Did you know adult Gargantuans are the biggest animals to have ever existed that we know about?”

“I don't know much about zoology, but surely there were prehistoric species that were larger.”

“Nope! The biggest animal they've found since was the Sea emperor. That one was only two hundred meters long. Unfortunately, that one just went extinct recently…”

He didn't know what to do when she suddenly looked genuinely sad. He resorted to changing the subject.

"Well, the tallest recorded player in the NHL was Zdeno Chára.”

“Who is that? I thought it was John Scott.”

He gripped his fork a little tighter.

“I am always shocked by how little players actually know about their own history.”

He was lucky she thought his grumpy attitude was cute.

“Sure, boss. How many players have you met?”

“I used to meet them a lot more when I was a commentator. I've met Danby Fidle, Jochi Khasar and David Hollister.”

“That sounds amazing. Why did you stop?”

He answered immediately, with a blistering honesty she almost felt assaulted by. His nearly imperceptible smile as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world brought up a certain feeling in her chest. “Because like this I get to talk about things I truly find interesting. Like you.”

They never did get around to talking about those interview questions. She only said she would read them later.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A knock sounded at the door at the apartment. Six pm on a Friday.

“You better not be fucking in there or I'm gonna kill you.” Robin's voice was muffled by the door. The two men on the couch scrolling on their phones cringed at the comment.

“Alright. I'm coming in. One, two, three!” She opened the door and walked inside. When she saw the unimpressive scene before her, she was quick to throw her bag aside and stomp over to where they were. She stood tall by the couch in front of Ryley. He didn't look up at her until Cal nudged him.

“What?”

“What is wrong with you?!”

He squinted at her, expecting her to elaborate, which only made her more angry.

“Why would you talk about him like that?”

“How did you find that? Listen, I said what I said. Milei is a leech on the country, I don't care how progressive he is, the chainsaw shit was pathetic.”

“Ah- What? No! You idiot! I'm talking about Alan!”

“Oh, my god. Don't tell me youre on his side.”

Calvin gave a tired expression and sighed. “Please don't start fighting.”

To no avail.

“He's a sweetheart!”

“He's neurotic!”

“And so what?! He likes stuff a certain way. What's wrong with that?!”

“You don't know him like I do!”

“Oh really? What's his favorite color?”

“Oh my god, I hate you both.” Cal would have put on headphones if he could, but he contented himself with going back to looking through emails on his phone.

“Why the fuck would I know that?!”

“Well it's green, so checkmate!” She walked away, over to the counter where she saw the hair ties she had left last time she was there.

“That is not a checkmate!” Ryley burst out, looking at Cal for support, but he refused to look away from his phone. Making it clear that he was tuning them both out.

“He's so nice and patient. I said a ton of stupid stuff when I was out with him and he didn't get mad once.”

“Well just you wait until he complains about the smell of your deodorant and makes you change it.”

“Well if he asked me to, I just might!”

“Listen whatever! He said he would give you the interview questions. Do you have them?”

“Yeah! Right he-“ She reached into her pocket. Then stopped. She looked again. Deeper this time. Then at the other pocket. Then at her left pant pocket, then the right one. After a second she went over to her bag.

“I have them.”

Ryleys jaw dropped. “No… YOU LOST THEM?!”

“No no I didn't, just give me a SECOND!”

Cal finally zoned back in and stared at her with knowing concern. Ryley was already sweating.

“He's gonna kill us…” Ryley murmured almost inaudibly. Robin winced and grunted, kicking her bag and standing up to pace around the room. “God fucking dammit. I had them…”

She stopped dead in her tracks and massaged her temples. “Ok. Ok ok ok ok ok. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. It's fine. It's fine! This is an interview. It's about me! I know me! He'll ask me about how I started playing and what my training routine is, stuff like that.”

“He won't! That's what a normal person would ask!”

She fumed. “Hey! He is perfectly normal!”

“Yeah! So is the current state of Buenos Aires!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You know what? This is not my fault. He said he wanted to give them to you himself. This is beyond my job description.” he said as he took deep breaths. Robin on the other hand was chewing her nails, going back to pacing. Cal let out a deep sigh and finally spoke.

“Just ask him for the questions again. You have his number.”

“What?! No! I don't want him to think I'm an idiot! Or that I don't care!”

Ryley was annoyingly quick to add; “Well if he's so nice and patient, then surely he won't.” The sarcasm in his voice made her blood boil. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill herself or him. She looked over at Cal. “Why are you dating him again?”

“Why do you care so much about what some youtuber thinks?”

She pouted and he just raised an eyebrow at her. The stare off lasted for a few seconds before she gave up.

“You know what? It will be fine. I'm good at talking. I've always been best when I improvise. Having all the questions laid out would have probably only made me overthink it.”

“Sure. This is your problem. I'm going to the bathroom.” Ryley left the living room and Cal finally stood up and walked over to Robin. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Robin, just ask him. I know it might suck but you'll regret it if you don't.”

“Hey hey don't worry. I can handle an interview.”

“Why are you so scared of him judging you?”

“I…” She realized at that moment that she didn't have an answer. She bit her lip for a moment, before getting a determined twinkle in her eye.

“I'm done looking stupid in front of people.”

“Who cares what they think?”

She took him by the shoulders, leaning down to his level and shaking him slightly. “You wouldn't get it because no one thinks you're an idiot. You remember how it was in school. I'd ask a teacher to repeat what they said and they'd yell at me. The coach thinks the same.”

Her face tightened, and she took a shaky breath. “This guy respects me. For once someone doesn't see me as a complete disaster. And I don't want to ruin that.”

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her shoulder. “I respect you.”

There was a sour look in Robin's eyes. Almost making the man think she might doubt his words. He wanted to reassure her, but she interrupted too quickly for him to do so:. “Ugh I know. But you know me too well.”

She smiled dolefully. It only made him more uneasy.

“And what happens when he gets to know you too?”

In that moment, the heavy expression faded away. As if dissolved in water, almost instantly. And it was jarringly replaced with a manufactured confidence. A nonchalance that glowed in her features as she slightly tilted her head.

“He won't.” She took a deep breath and straightened herself up. His hand falling away. Her smile was bright and her head was held high.

“He wanted Robin the hockey star. And that's exactly who he'll get!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She debated on how much makeup she should have on, or if any at all. She opted for a light look. Covering up some bruises and scratches. Checking herself over and over in nearby car windows and storefronts, she had made her way to the location Ryley had given her. It was quite a boring small building, but to be fair she was still surprised that he had an office at all. Expecting a youtuber to run their entire operation from their bedroom. It had only been a few days since their little dinner meeting and during that time Robin had made the attempt to text him more. It was during those text conversations where she had finally truly realized.

It was really hard to talk to him about anything other than ice hockey.

She guessed at first that he was maybe just being professional. But then again she didn’t know what strategies of games from 1967 or the individual weights of other players had to do with their arrangement. She suddenly had to wonder, did he… have anyone to hear him talk about this endlessly? At no point did he mention any friends. Making Robin feel oddly protective of the man, letting him ramble to his heart's content and doing her absolute best to keep track of as much of it as she could. Ryley's incessant comments made that protective instinct even stronger. To the point where she was determined to not only steamroll this interview, but to have a great time with her new buddy doing it.

She arrived soon enough and was let in by Ryley, who did little more than give her the side eye and point to where she needed to go. The office consisted of four rooms that she didn't bother asking permission to look through. One was a small room with nothing but a desk and a television mounted to the wall, it looked vaguely creepy if you asked her. There was Ryley small dedicated office, full of a variety of labeled boxes that she couldn't quite believe were his doing. A storage closet that had been made into a makeshift audio recording booth, and finally the recording studio. It was a somewhat small room with a large whiteboard. Opposite to it, she could spot a mounted camera and what looked like a projector. Robin remembered a few of the videos' thumbnails, where he would draw complicated diagrams over the projection of a frame of the game, she thought it was fairly clever.

It was in that room where she found him. Scribbling on a pristine looking notebook on a table that was set off to the side. He didn't notice her immediately, but was most likely startled when he did. Most likely because Robin wasn't entirely sure given that he only tensed up and threw up his eyebrows slightly.

“Mis Ayou.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “Need help with anything?” She approached and saw him put his notebook down on a chair and hold his pen a little tighter.

“You arrived twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time. I am not ready to receive you.”

Robin looked at her phone. He was right. She did it on purpose. She knew that if she didn't get there as early as possible, she would inevitably end up late.

“It's fine. I can help set things up. I don't mind.”

“You should have come when we agreed to, please do that next time we have an arrangement.”

Robin took a step back suddenly feeling a little uneasy in the room.

“Are you mad at me?” She sounded incredulous.

“Upset, yes”

“Oh.” She shrunk back. Fidgeting with her hair, his face doesn't change as she asked herself, should he be at least a little happy to see her?

“Should I leave?”

“There would be no point to that now. If you are offering to assist, please move this table in front of the whiteboard.”

She swallowed uncomfortably. The shut blinds of the room made it seem smaller, making her feel somewhat trapped in. She did as he asked, and the table was quickly in place. He took little time taking a pair of chairs to stand behind it and began to fiddle with what she assumed was a pair of microphones. She sighed. “So… how have you been lately?”

“Stressed beyond belief. I have been receiving calls from debt collectors for a specific debt that has been sold and purchased at least four times by different companies. All of them have tried to bait me into paying it without sending verification that it is even mine. I've been disputing it for months and I know it isn't mine, for which I am not worried about payment but it is a hassle.”

She barked out a laugh so loud she thought the lower floor might have been able to hear it. Alan only stared at her, even seeming startled.

“What is it?”

She chuckled a little more. “Nothing, nothing. It's just you're the only person I've met that answers that question that honestly.”

“I… am sorry? Have I bothered you?”

“No no, I like that about you.”

He looked away from her and back to the microphones, finally setting them up each at either side of the table. “The exact value of honesty is difficult to quantify.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been told countless times that honesty is a desirable trait. But it's entirely circumstantial in a way that seemingly can't be telegraphed.”

She approached him again, feeling lighter this time. "Yeah, it's one of those things you're just supposed to know somehow. I can see how that can get pretty annoying.”

“I do appreciate you tolerating that fact about me.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “I don't tolerate you. I like you.”

He was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, leaving Robin to wonder if what she said was out of line.

“Thank you” he mumbled just high enough for her to hear, she couldn't help but smile wider as she looked at their setup. She walked around the room slowly, carefully eyeing the camera. She saw at the corner of her eye that Alan was already back to looking over his notebook. She got closer again and reached out to his hand carefully.

“Yo, pass me that pen, check this out.”

He hesitantly passed the pen over to her, letting out a quick “Be careful with it”. Robin weighed slightly in her palm before moving it up to her fingers and spinning it multiple times in different directions before rolling it back and forth between each finger before finally spinning it quickly over her thumb.

Alan threw up his eyebrows slightly, a small sign that made Robin feel more excited than she probably should. She continued spinning the pen in every way he knew and watched him stare at her hand with nearly mesmerized focus.

“That is quite impressive. How did you learn to do that?”

“Well it's better than chewing on it.”

His eyebrows came down again. “Do not chew on my stationary.”

She laughed. She continued doing tricks for him until a voice came in from the entrance to the room.

“Alright you two, it's time to start setting up and get recording.” Ryley could not have sounded less enthusiastic if he tried. Alan quickly took the pen from her and set it down on the right seat of the desk, where she guessed he would be sitting. She went over and sat down on the left side and waited for further instructions. Soon enough, the mics were turned on and Alan tapped on his a few times.

“Testing. Is the audio recording correctly?”

Robin couldn't help but chuckle. He looked over at her confused, the complete stillness of his face somehow communicated his perplexity in such a perfect way that it made her stifle another laugh.

“Is something funny?” He sounded so neutral about it that Robin didn't feel bad.

“Its really nothing, its just that I just now noticed how old you sound.”

Ryley was actually able to stifle his laughter, and set himself to face down at the floor. Alan should have been at least a little frustrated, but he found the sound of her laughter too pleasant to be bothered.

“It's just, you're thirty, look twenty-five and sound like sixty-seven.”

“And is that amusing?” he asked her simply. It's actually kind of hot. She thought to herself but obviously had no intention to say that.

“Just interesting. Like the rest of you.”

That tiny hint of a smile made its way onto his face again. Robin would have visibly celebrated if she wasn't being watched.

“Mis Ayou, I think it's important to remember that I'm the one interviewing you.”

“I really think it's time you start calling me Robin.”

“You did not ask before referring to me by my first name.”

“Was I wrong to do that?”

“No. The informality is pleasant. I'm glad you feel relaxed. Robin.”

Ryley was two seconds away from killing himself. “Hey! Yeah, I have lunch after this.”

The other two tensed up and she quickly looked away from Alan, she didn't know if his gaze remained on her.

Any remaining preparations were minimal. Robin had already imagined nearly every possible scenario of how this could go and at worst he would ask her an invasive personal question, and she would joke it off and make it seem like it's nothing. Like she said: she was best when she improvised. In what seemed like no time at all the camera was rolling, and she was keenly aware of how Ryley was intensely leering at her as Alan finally began.

“Hello everyone. Like I promised. I have a special video. Today I get to interview the debuting player of the Trivalves, Robin Ayou.”

She had expected a much livelier introduction from a youtuber but he had never seemed like the type. Robin was under the impression that he would put on some sort of persona for his videos but just by that one bit, she figured that was not the case. Wanting to lighten things up she waved at the camera.

“Hi. It's so cool to be here. Thank you so much for inviting me on.”

“Let's get to the questions.” He nearly cut her off. Robin had been prepared for a few minutes of on screen pleasantries and banter, just like how they had on their dinner. She had seen enough shows to have thought that interviews were supposed to be fun. She took a second to straighten herself up and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Alan wasn't looking at the camera or at her, face firmly fixed on his notebook where she could see neatly organized rows of text that she couldn't quite read.

“Do you believe you have improved since your days in the NCAA?”

Wow.

Her mouth nearly fell open and her eyes widened ever so slightly. She wasn't really sure why. Maybe she was so certain that the first question would have been; How did you start playing? that anything else would have caused her to short circuit. Still, she was quick to come up with an answer.

“Well, it would be pretty bad if I hadn’t. Of course I've gotten a lot better since I competed in college.”

At that moment Alan finally looked at her. For some reason, it was unnerving.

“Elaborate.”

She fought not to swallow her saliva. This time it took her a bit longer to come up with something to say in response. “I’ve gotten a lot faster. I was still kind of a newbie in Uni. Compared to most of my teammates, I had only played since later in high school. The others had been since they were little. But here I am anyway. I think that just goes to show that it's never too late to start, you know?”

Bingo. An answer, a little backstory, something inspirational to cap it off. She's got this in the bag.

“And?” Alan's eyes were back on the notebook. His voice was unreadable as he flipped a page.

“A-and?” she questioned in a higher pitch than she would have liked.

“You have increased your movement speed. What else?”

“Well I clearly score a lot more than I used to.”

“With only one game, it is hard to test how consistently you can do that.”

“Well you could say that about anything when I play. Why ask at all then?”

The slight crinkling of paper under his thumb could be heard over a sudden deafening silence that lasted only a few seconds that stretched on for a while.

“Alright. Next question.”

“Y-yeah sure.”

She looked over at Ryley who at this point had turned his attention to his phone. She could see him holding back a giggle, clearly looking at something he found far more entertaining than this.

“What do you do to distinguish yourself from the average player?”

That question suddenly reminded her of the horrible job interviews she had at the beginning of high school. She took a second to put herself in that mindset again. Maybe that would flow more smoothly.

“Well, I am very direct and quite ruthless when playing. I go straight for the shot and don't hesitate when I see an opening.”

“Similarly to Hua Yu. Though not quite comparable.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I don't think I'm particularly similar to anyone right now when I play.”

He had basically implied that before, right? He said she was truly interesting. Fascinating even. He meant it, right? That hadn't been just sucking up to her to get her to agree to be on here with him… right?

“I agree. You are uniquely rough while playing.”

“Rough good or rough bad?” She almost put her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to ask that out loud. It made her sound pathetic.

“Rough is a morally neutral descriptor.”

“Uh- I don't mean like tha- nevermind. Umm, but yeah, I'm quite big for a woman and I use that to my advantage.”

“Alright. Next question.”

She kept trying to find his eyes, to find some type of understanding, but his gaze would simply not connect with her, it was at that moment that she realized that the entire time they had known each other, he had not looked her directly in the eye once. She didn't know why. And suddenly, it made her incredibly nervous.

“Why were you allowed into the Trivalves?”

She blinked a couple of times. “W-why wouldn't I be? I was drafted.”

“Were you given any specific reason?”

Suddenly, a cold shiver ran up her spine. It brought her back to a few days ago, to the words Cal had said to her.

I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.

It had her digging her nails into her thigh.

“It's very simple actually. I was good and they saw that.”

“Many university players are good.”

Her breath hitched a little. She could swear a drop of sweat was running down her neck and her foot was tapping nervously on the ground under the table.

“Well I'm great then.” she nearly scowled, having to remind herself that she was on camera. Ryley had suddenly directed his attention back at them and was looking at Robin with a strong sense of dread, realizing the furrowing of his brow and the tensing of his shoulders. Alan, as always, remained unreadable save for the very subtle way that he had caused the ink on the page to slip from the pressure he was putting on it.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. Why wouldn't I believe that?”

He was quiet. Something that was starting to infuriate her. The pause had lasted long enough that Ryley was gesturing from his place to try to get them to move on and only after Alan caught sight of it did he give any sign of life.

“How do you justify your excessive clumsiness while playing?”

Oh.

Oh.

Is that how it fucking is?

“And tell me, why would you say something so stupid?”

Finally she saw a reaction, like she wanted. He put the notebook down on the table. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“You continuously injure yourself, either crashing or falling over.”

For the first time Alan looked at the camera. Ryley was nearly biting his nails when he did so. He tried to shrug as if to communicate that he had no idea of how to fix the situation.

“Well I don't see any more “graceful” players single handedly scoring three goals against the top women's team right now, so what about that?”

“That… is unrelated to the question.”

“Well move on to another question. I’m not fucking answering that.”

Robin was many things. But a pussy was never one of them. And she wasn't about to get bullied by some wannabe reporter. She looked fiercely at Alan who seemed to only take interest in her tapping foot.

[sister-pianist-chan]

Hey guys, I have a decent amount of time due to a long layover. I forgot where I got these prompts from, but (dear prompt author, if you are seeing this, thank you!) Please send me some asks and I'll write a kiss for any ship containing Käärijä x JO member, Tommy Cash, Joost, The Daltons, Häärijä, original Male Character/reader, any of Jere's other bfs (including Jari Sr if you want) or even among the JO members and Damon too. Luke Black and Jann too, and also Silvester Belt and Nemo. You can mix them up! If you want serious or crack, you can also let me know.

*I can do AUs too (like deaf!jere, monk!jere, angel!jere and demon!bojan, or any AU you come up with.)

If you want light s.mu.t, I can do that too. Lol

[kpop-fanfiction-ger-blog]

All in for you pt1 (German ff)

Irene war schon immer allein auf sich gestellt. Seit sie denken konnte hatte sich nie jemand um sie gekümmert und ihr war nach all der Zeit alles egal geworden. Dennoch schließt sie sich als sich die Chance bietet einer Rebellionsgruppe Namens the Clan an. Irene muss lernen was es heißt für eine Sache wirklich zu kämpfen und muss feststellen das es Dinge gibt die für sie von Bedeutung sind und das vielleicht doch nicht alles und jeder egal ist.

Pair: Jooheon x Irene (reader)

Dies ist eine Art Songfic zu dem song "All in" von Monsta X

Ich hoffe ihr werdet meine ff mögen

Vorsicht smut! (Ist gekennzeichnet und unwichtig für den Erzählverlauf, kann also übersprungen werden)

Kapitel 1: Begegnung

Irene schlenderte an diesem kalten Neujahrsmorgen durch die Straßen ihres Heimatdorfes. Sie lebte schon immer hier bzw. in dieser Gegend. In der Umgebung gab es nicht viel ein paar Wälder, Felder und Bauernhöfe. Das nächst größere Dorf war 3 Stunden entfernt und die nächst größere Stadt lag noch weiter entfernt. Irene kannte jedes Haus, jede Straße und jeden Laden im kompletten Umkreis. Sie hasste es dort. Sie kannte zwar keinen Alternativen Ort dennoch hasste sie das Dorf. Überall gab es sehr strenge Regeln und war man nicht gerade reich wurde man unterdrückt und ausgebeutet. Jeder war gegen jeden und die Regierung nahm ihnen auch jede Freude am Leben. Seit es Verboten war an Silvester zu feiern waren auch am Neujahrstag alle Geschäfte geöffnet und es herrschte reges treiben auf den Straßen.

Eigentlich wollte sie sich nur ein Brot und etwas Käse für die nächsten Tage kaufen, als ihr etwas in ihrem Augenwinkel auffiel. Sie beobachtete wie ein Junge von etwa 9 Jahren an einem Stand mit Wurst und Käse versuchte zu stehlen. Offensichtlicher weise hatte er das noch nicht oft gemacht oder es war sogar sein erstes mal. Denn er hielt weder nach Polizisten ausschau noch nach dem Besitzer des Standes. Sie seufzte dieses Szenario würde kein Gutes Ende nehmen. Der Junge versuchte sich eine Beute eilig unter sein T-shirt zu stecken und wollte schon unauffällig weiter schlendern als der Händler ihn darauf ansprach und versuchte ihn zu packen. Der Junge war zu seinem Glück erstaunlich schnell und flink und wich dem Griff des Händlers aus und rannte davon. Der Händler Schlug natürlich voller Wut bei der Polizei Alarm und diese rannten nun dem Kind hinter her. Einige Momente überlegte sie das richtige zu tun und sich nicht ein zu mischen in dem sie ihnen folgte. Doch sie erinnerte sich noch sehr gut an ihr erstes Mal bei dem sie erwischt wurde. Sie war kaum älter wie der Junge gewesen und wurde erst von der Polizei mit Schlagstöcken verprügelt und danach nochmal von ihrem Vater weil sie ja zu blöd war ihnen etwas zu Essen zu holen und dabei dann auch noch zu spät nach Hause kam. Sie atmete tief durch und rannte dann in die Richtung in die die Polizisten gerannt waren. Sie wusste das, dass für sie auch nicht gut ausgehen würde, konnte aber den Gedanken nicht ertragen das einem Kind Leid zugefügt wurde. Manchmal verfluchte sie sich wirklich für ihren übermäßig ausgeprägten Sinn für Gerechtigkeit, denn in den meisten Fällen konnte sie sich solche Situationen nicht leisten. Schließlich könnte es ihr Tod sein wenn sie verletzt werden würde und sich die Wunden infizieren würden. Umso länger sie aber über die Risiken nachdachte umso weniger wichtig erschienen sie ihr. Wer würde sie schon vermissen sie war so oder so allein und hatte niemandern. So würde sie wenigstens nicht durch einen sinnlosen Tod wie den Hungertod sterben.

In einer einsamen dunklen Gasse kam sie zum stehen. In einer Ecke konnte sie sehen wie die Polizisten nach dem Jungen griffen. Die Schlagstöcke und Waffen bereit zum Angriff. Das arme Kind hatte sich zusammen gekauert, den Kopf auf die Hände gebettet, kniend und weinte immer wieder: "Bitte vergebt mir das ist für meine Familie! Ich möchte wirklich nichts böses!" Sie musste wirklich verrückt sein dachte Irene und warf sich beim ersten Schlag schützend vor den Jungen. Der Schlagstock traf sie hart in die Magengrube und sie keuchte. Die Polizisten waren für einen Moment so perplex das sich keiner von ihnen rührte als sie dem Jungen zu rief das er weg rennen sollte. Der Junge kletterte nach ihrer Ansage hastig über einen Zaun und verschwand.

Nun hatte sie die Polizisten wirklich verärgert. Sie brüllten sie an warum sie sich dazwischen gestellt habe und das sie jetzt dafür bezahlen würde. Kaum hatte der letzte von ihnen zu Ende geredet holte einer von ihnen zum Schlag aus. Der erste Schlag traf ihre Rippen und sie viel stönend auf ihre Knie. Der zweite Schlag traf sie dierekt am Kopf. Sie sah nun alles doppelt und bekam auch nicht mehr wirklich mit wie sich eine Gruppe junger Männer gegen die Polizisten stellte, gegen sie kämpfte und sie vertrieb. Einer von ihnen hielt sich mit Absicht den Lauf eines Maschinengewehrs von einem der Polizisten gegen die Stirn, ein anderer verteilte Blumen an sie und ein dritter Schlug und trat nach ihnen. Die Polizisten waren klar in der Unterzahl und flohen deshalb. Warmes Blut ran aus ihrer Stirn und ihr war schlecht und schwindelig. Deshalb schloss sie ihre Augen. Sie dachte schon Haluzinationen zu haben als sie dumpf hörte wie sich die Männer unterhielten. Sie hielt ihre Augen geschlossen, da das Licht schmerzte und alles um sie herum so oder so dröhnte. Sie musste wohl Bewusstlos aussehen denn die Männer oder Jungen unterhielten sich über sie als wäre sie nicht hier. Die erste Stimme die sie hörte fragte ängstlich in die Runde: "Glaubt ihr das sie Tot ist?" Ein zweiter meinte: "Ich denke nicht ich kann ihre Atembewegungen sehen, Hyungwon". "Shownu was sollen wir jetzt mit ihr machen? Wir können sie ja nicht einfach so liegen lassen" fragte eine warme freundliche Stimme und eine weitere Stimme bekräftigte ihn mit dem Argument das es nicht fair wäre, da ich ja schließlich den Jungen gerettet habe und daher gar nicht so schlecht sein kann. Eine andere meinte eher skeptisch das man mir wegen meiner Tat nicht gleich trauen könne. Nun meldete sich wohl dieser Shownu zu Wort, denn die anderen Jungen schwiegen sofort als er zu sprechen begann. Er klang sehr ruhig und stimmte dem Jungen mit der freundlichen Stimme zu. Dieser erklärte sich augenblicklich bereit sie zu tragen. Sie wusste nicht so recht was sie davon halten sollte aber wenigstens würde sie nicht sterben. Irene war sich nach ihrer Aktion im Klaren das sie schlichtweg noch nicht bereit für den Tod war. Der Junge musste wohl zu ihr rüber gekommen sein, denn sie nahm seinen Geruch und seine Körperwärme wahr. Sie spürte wie er sie langsam anhob. Kaum hatte der Junge sie in die Luft gehoben wurde sie immer müder und erschöpfter bis sie in eine Phase zwischen schlaf und Bewusstlosigkeit geriet. Als der beruhigend warme Körper des Jungen sich in Bewegung sezte verlor sie vollkommen das Bewusstsein.

[just-another-fanfiction-writer]

New Year’s Kiss - Bucky x Reader - Oneshot

Heyo, my potatoes! ♥ And a happy new year! I’m so very sorry for not posting anything in the last days, but here we are! :D And because I didn’t do a christmas themed fanfiction (as you can find lots and lots of them on tumblr) I’ll do a belated New Year’s fanfiction. :D I hope you enjoy! ♥

Lyrics used in this imagine: MAX - Basement party (Amazing song! Amazing singer! Check him out :D [x] )

Summary - Tony’s throwing one of his famous and very flamboyant parties on the top floor of the (new) Avengers tower as it has a big balcony for all the guests to gather and watch the fireworks - because it’s silvester and the next year is going to begin soon. But before this eventful years ends, Bucky desperately has to tell you something.

Words - 1,763

Warning - pure FLUFF ♥

“I’m so excited! This is by far the best view over New York.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle in the party lights with pure excitement and a bright smile plastered on her face. And it even grows bigger the moment a song Natasha, Wanda and you know.

“We have to dance!”

In seconds we’re on the dancefloor, our already emptied glasses left for good as we’re standing in a circle, dancing, while singing in unison with the lines.

“So she took the train from Brooklyn with her friends. She wants to show me love. Yeah, I sent some pics of my people. Yeah, she been recruiting and scouting.” 

“Aw yeah”, Natasha and Wanda add in between, making you the leading voice. 

“She got some girlfriends from Soho. She showed them the pictures, they 'bout it.” ”Aw yeah!” “There's a promoter. Supposedly told her that 1 OAK was popping.” “No way!”

That’s when the other two join in again. “Fuck that. I'm having a rooftop party.”

The three of you stop singing, as you all laugh at having the same idea of changing up the lyrics to match it to where you are. You keep on dancing around each other and togethere, just having a lot of fun, when suddenly the music stops, making us shout at the DJ for stopping this amazing song.

But soon you get quiet, seeing Tony getting on the small stage, making him bigger than everyone.

“Ladies and gentleman. I hope you are all having a good time already. As it is only five minutes until the next year, I suggest to find a good viewing place outside on the balcony. And please don’t forget a glass of champagne on your way outside. Thank you for your attention.”

The music turns back on and all the guests are streaming to the balcony. So do you three, trying to find the other Avengers in the crowd and it’s not hard to find them, as you can already hear Sam’s laughter from a far.

“Hey, guys! Jesus, it’s cold”, Natasha points out, Wanda and you agreeing immediately, as you three are wearing sleeveless dresses. Suddenly Vision followed by Pietro appear next to Wanda, both offering their jackets, but as Vision was first, she takes it thankfully, while Pietro angrily stares at Vision, having the suspision Vision has a thing for her though he’s basically an android.

And with that Bucky stands next to me offering me his jacket. “You can have my jacket. I mean...you might catch a cold like this. I just-” “Thank you, Bucky”, you smile at him, letting him put his warm tuxedo jacket over your shoulders. Meanwhile Natasha denied Steve’s, T’Challa’s and Sam’s offer and with every other looking even angrier at Bruce, who just shifts around on his feet right next to her. She shakes her head disappointed, bumping her elbow in his side and giving him an encouraging smile. That’s when he finally gets it, you think so at least and he offers Natasha his jacket, which she takes with one of the sweetest smiles you’ve seen on this bad-ass woman.

Clint and his wife Laura are home with the kids, as they couldn’t leave them alone on silvester. Steve decided to give his jacket to Maria Hill, Pietro to Helen Cho just to flirt with her, while being distracted of protecting his little sister, Thor and Jane where no where to be found and Tony was basically busy with other guests and his most important guest Pepper. The little spidey kiddo Peter was probably home with his aunt and Darcy Lewis was mingling with the crowd, probably trying to find her next victim.

God, you are happy as hell already, staying with the Avengers and becoming one yourself as your best decision this year. There was just one little thing that could make the grande finale to this year.

Talking of the devil.

“Y/N? Can we...maybe talk?”

You turn around to meet these baby blue’s that always make your heart skip.

You take a look at the clock, seeing it’s almost time for the countdown. “N-now? Can we talk about it later?” “No, it can’t wait.”

Shortly you turn to Natasha, who’s hooked into Bruce’s arm, winking at you with a small bump into your side, encouraging you to go.

“Sure”, you breath, your heart pumping against your chest as you grab his arm, following him through the crowd to the backside of the balcony, where no one is, as it’s a bit cramped with some ventilation pipes and other stuff.

“Okay, what is it?”, you smile as good as possible, screaming inside at those eyes he’s giving you and you feel like melting in front of him, his smell stuck in his jacket surrounding you, which doesn’t really help.

“I-uh. Well, it’s just...I’ve been...for a long time.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at me, trying to find the words to tell you what’s so important to him to tell you now. He shifts around on his feet, scratches his neck and looks like he’s about to run away.

But you don’t want him to run away. If he wants to say, what you think he’s wants to say, that you want him to stay and just say it. You really wish in this moment, that everyone is right about Bucky’s feelings for you.

You grab his hands, the sudden cold of his metal hand sending shivers up your arm and down your spine, his gaze finally meeting yours. You take a step forward, yet again an encouraging smile on your lips.

“James.” Saying his first name always gets his attention and apparently he likes to be cald James by you. “Calm down. Just take a deep breath and think about what you want to say, okay?”

He nods and you’re about to pull your hands away again, worried that he might feel uncomfortable with the sudden contact or everyone maybe being wrong about his feelings.

But he tightens the grip on your hands, not letting them go. Bucky takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and then staring at your hands.

“You’re a really good friend, Y/N.”

That doesn’t sound good at all.

“And I always appreciated your help. And I still do. You help me to integrate into this society, help me to understand today’s technology-” You both laugh slightly at this comment. “- and you help me with my anxiety, my nightmares and just me at all. I never thought someone this kind could exist, but here you are.” His smile is honest, but somehow his eyes look a bit sad. “Through you I finally found happiness again. I can smile with you, laugh with you and even cry with you, because of too much laughter. You make me feel like an actual person again...not that monster I once was because of...Hydra.” The last word falls off his lips thickly laced with pain, anger and fear. Bucky’s still scarred thorugh his past and that will never change after being a brainwashed assassin for Hydra for 70 years. So you try your best to help him through everything to make him live a better life. To make him feel like a person.

From a far you can hear the crowd counting down from 10 already, shortly taking both of your attention away, but soon returning to each other again.

“Through you I can live like a normal person again. I don’t even deserve all the kindness you gave me already and I’ll never be able to return all of it, but I’ll try my best, because-”

“3...2...1″

“-I love you.”

“Happy New Year!”

Fireworks explode behind the two of you, illuminating your barely lit faces, making the tears in your widened eyes shimmer and his ocean eyes seem like heaven.

You two stand there, looking at each other, you probably having a heart attack as you can’t feel any heartbeat inside of you and it’s like you two are frozen in time, while many fireworks explode in sync, celebrating loudly the new year.

And before you know what you’re doing, your lips are tightly pressed against Bucky’s, as this action explains your love for him better than any words could ever explain. You kiss him with all your strength that’s left in your body, happiness flooding your body, happy for your friends being right, happy for your heart to have made the right decision and happy for Bucky being in love with you.

His lips soft and plump, tasting sweet from some sweet cocktail he must have been drinking earlier this night and they move with such grace over your lips, it fels like your lips mold into each other. Made for each other.

You claw into his chest, grabbing a fistful of his white shirt, while his hands explore your jawline and his finger intertwine with your hair, Natasha has beautifully styled up into a curly bun, some strands of hair dangling around. Bucky though seems to have other plans with your hair, opening up the bun, still kissing your tenderly, but slowly more feverishly. Your hair falls gently onto your shoulders, while you move your hands up to his neck, pulling him closer to you and Bucky’s hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer as well.

You could continue like this forever, but through the lack of oxygen, you seperate, gasping for air, staying in each other’s arms. Your foreheads are connected, just like your gazes.

“That was probably the best New Year’s kiss I ever had”, you smile, biting your bottom lip, hungry for another kiss, not sure if you should stick to his eyes or his mouth with your gaze.

At the end deciding for his eyes, you finally say those words, Bucky’s been waiting for a long time already.

“I love you, too, James.”

His smile is so bright, it’s brighter than the big and colourful fireworks, almost blinding you. You two let each other drag you into another kiss, even more passionate, caring and loving. Also quite hungry and feverish, but let’s put that aside.

“Happy New Year, James.” “Happy New Year, doll.”

You roll your eyes, a big smile though gracing your lips, confusing Bucky. “Don’t you like me calling you doll?” “We should better get back and toast the new year with the others.”

You grab confidently Bucky’s hand and drag him back to the actual party, meeting up with the Avengers, who doesn’t just celebrate the New Year, but also the new couple.

And by the way.

You love Bucky calling you doll.

GOT ANY GOOD IDEAS FOR A BUCKY X READER FANFICTION? LET ME KNOW! REQUEST ARE STILL OPEN! :) CLICK HERE FOR REQUESTS!

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If you wanna be tagged, tell me in my ask box! ♥

[seventeenficsformalereader]

Movie ; Silvester Belt

You watch a movie with your boyfriend, Silvester <3

Warnings : None

Gender neutral reader/gender not mentioned

Genre : Fluff

I had to write this for my friend so here y'all go also :D

512 words ✭

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Silvester checked his phone for the thousand time for the evening. It was currently 9 PM and you were supposed to arrive at 8:30 PM. He sighed frustrated and tapped his feet on the ground anxiously. What if something happened? What if you got into an accident? What if you stood him up for some reason? He thought too much that he didn't realize the door being knocked on. He was pulled out of his thoughts when someone entered the house. "Hey? Silver? You here?" You asked, making him get up from the couch "Y/N!" He said happily and quickly walked to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly "I was so worried. You are thirty minutes late" Silvester said with a pout on his face, making you crack a small smile "I know, I'm sorry. There was a lot of traffic and I had to pick a few things up before coming here. Next thing you know, the time had ran faster than I could possibly even move" Silvester smiled a bit before questioning "So what did you 'pick up'" "Some snacks. I thought we could watch a movie" You answered with a smile "I even bought a DVD for us." You added, taking out a dvd box with the most iconic movie ever inside of it, Fight club. You smiled "What do you say?" You asked and Silvester nodded "Okayyy I like where this is going".

After a while you and Silvester sat down at the couch. There was all kinds of snacks such as chips and popcorn and soda for the both of you. You put on the movie and got into a comfortable position, leaning against Silvester's chest, his left arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders while the other hand was holding his drink. You have a blanket on both of you so you both feel more comfortable.

Halfway through the movie, Silvester looked at you "You know, I'm so in love with you. I always cherish and admire moments such as these with you" Silvester explained wholeheartedly out of nowhere. You were taken a back a bit and you looked up at him with a small smile and loving eyes "Oh, Silver. You're so adorable. I love you too. And moments like these never fail to make me smile. Just seeing you makes my day better a hundred percent" you said to him and he couldn't help but kiss you softly after taking your chin in his hand softly. He kissed your lips ever so gently, and you accustomed to the kiss and then returned it softly. The kiss got a bit more heated as he set his soda down while still kissing you and then pulled you closer by your thighs. You couldn't help but smile.

After some time, he finally broke the kiss, leaving you breathless but happy. You stared at his beautiful eyes before giving one last kiss on his cheek and then resting your head back down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling glad about the love you two share for each other.

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[seventeenficsformalereader]

Bad timings ; Silvester Belt

You and Silvester are out together on a drive, until the car breaks down at a rather inconvenient time.

Warnings : None

Genre : Fluff

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You looked out the window as Silvester drove the car rather fast on the highway. You smiled as you took in the pretty sight of the view. You were almost in the middle of nowhere and the scenes were so pretty around you. Green grass, flowers, tall trees, some mountains in the distance. It was beautiful.

You sighed happily and looked down at the bluetooth radio and decided to connect your phone to it and put on some music. Silvester looked at you fidling with the cables. He smiled "Having trouble, Sweetheart?" He asked.

You laughed out of embarrassment a bit "Yeah. Kind of. Wait..." You looked at the cable and then at the radio and then realized "It's a Bluetooth radio god fuc-" You started but Silvester cleared his throat "ah, ah, ah" Silvester said and you sighed and started to connect your phone via Bluetooth.

You opened up spotify and put on some music. The song 'Something about you' by Eyedress and Dent May started playing and you smiled "This is such a great song." "Rude. Didn't even play my song" Silvester fake pouted and you hit him on the arm playfully "oh shut it you big baby. You can handle it"

Silvester pouted "I'm sorry babe" you said and hugged his arm soothingly. Suddenly the car made a weird sound and then a pop and it began to slow down "shit" Silvester said and quickly pulled over. Luckily he just got off the highway. Silvester sighed and stood up from the car. He felt a wet drop land on his nose as he got up from the car.

Silvester looked up and more drops fell down "Shit" Silvester said again and sat back down in the car "it's gonna rain right now when the tire went flat" Silvester sighed and closed the door as more drops fell down and soon began to rain. You looked around as the raindrops began to fall down quickly and loudly on the car, making a lot of noise. You have always loved the sound of rain.

You looked at Silvester who took out his phone to look at the weather for the next hours "It looks like it's gonna rain for 2 hours straight." Silvester said and crossed his arms "We can't fix the car in this weather" He added with a sigh. You saw how stressed he was so you took his hand in your own "Don't worry, babe. We'll be okay. We have all the time in the world, we don't have to hurry. Let's just wait until the rain stops and then fix the car" You reassured him and Silvester sighed and then looked at you. You were smiling at him softly, and it made him smile "Alright. We'll just wait. Thank you for always knowing how to cheer me up, my love" Silvester said and leaned in slightly.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. He smiled against your lips and kissed you back. You then tried to pull away after some time but Silvester put his hand on your cheek to keep the kiss going a bit longer until he finally let go "You taste so sweet my darling" Silvester said in a low voice, making you blush "Oh shut up" you said embarrassed. He chuckled and kissed you once more "Maybe these 2 hours won't be so bad" He said in a low whisper.

-Time skip-

You woke up to the sound of Silvester getting up from the car. You had apparently fallen asleep. You stretched your arms and Silvester opened the trunk "Love?" He asked and you looked back "hmm?" you hummed and Silvester smiled "I'll change the tire real quick and then we will start to head back home, yeah?" Silvester said and you nodded in response, sighing and leaning against the door.

After some time, Silvester came back and sat down "Alright" He said under his breath and started the car "Let's get going now, my love" Silvester said and started driving again. You smiled and played Silvester's song "Ar Dar Matai" and you both sang together happily.

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