thebiggestfan1

[thebiggestfan1]

just a drink

older!sirius black x reader - just a drink

word count: 4k

summary: after a long meeting with the order sirius invites y/n to stay for… just a drink

warnings: kissing, mentions of age gap, absolutely infatuated sirius (bc i like men who shower me with compliments and affection) also slight dumbledore hate

a/n: once again i went insane with this. there are so many other things i should be writing for you but i just have to share this

     The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows across the mismatched chairs and the weathered wooden table. The members of the Order of the Phoenix sat packed tightly together, their faces solemn as Dumbledore spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind that settled deep in the bones and refused to let go.

     Y/N sat near the middle of the table, between Remus and Sirius. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her jaw tight as she listened to Dumbledore outline the latest developments. Her patience was thin tonight, thinner than usual. The constant weight of the war, the sleepless nights, and now the decisions being made without enough consideration for their consequences—it was all too much.

     Dumbledore’s voice carried on, steady and commanding. “We need to establish a stronger presence near Diagon Alley. The Death Eaters are becoming bolder in their attacks, and we must be prepared for the possibility of a strike closer to the heart of wizarding London.”

     Y/N’s fingers tapped against her arm, her brow furrowing. She could feel the frustration building, a knot tightening in her chest. “I don’t see how that helps,” she muttered under her breath.

     Her voice was quiet, but Sirius, sitting to her right, caught it. He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. She always had something to say, always pushed back against authority when she thought they were wrong. It was one of the things he admired about her— her fire.

     Dumbledore continued, unbothered. “A visible presence in the area will serve as both a deterrent and a warning. However, we must exercise caution. Any unnecessary provocation could lead to—”

     “With all due respect, sir,” Y/N interrupted, her voice cutting through the room, “standing around looking official isn’t going to stop them. They already know we’re here, and they’re not afraid of us. If anything, it’ll just make us targets.”

     The room fell silent. All eyes turned to her, some surprised, others wary. Y/N felt the weight of their stares but held her ground, her gaze steady on Dumbledore.

     “Y/N,” Remus murmured beside her, his voice low and calm. He placed a hand on her back, a gesture meant to steady her. “Not now.”

     The touch was gentle but firm, and Y/N felt herself deflate slightly. She bit back a retort and leaned back in her chair, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

     Sirius’s eyes flicked to the spot where Remus’s hand rested on Y/N’s back. His smirk faded, replaced by a subtle tightening of his jaw. He knew the gesture was innocent—Remus had always been protective of her, just as he was with everyone in their group—but it still bothered him. There was an ease between them, a quiet understanding, that Sirius couldn’t help but envy.

     And yet, he had no right to feel that way. She wasn’t his.

     He leaned back in his chair, forcing his gaze away from them and pretending to focus on the parchment in front of him. But his thoughts refused to cooperate.

     The age gap. That damned age gap.

     It was the reason he hadn’t made a move, the thing that held him back every time he caught himself watching her for too long or thinking about her late at night. She was young, vibrant, full of life. He was weighed down by a lifetime of mistakes and regrets. What right did he have to want her?

     Dumbledore’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Now, onto the matter of Hogsmeade,” he said, gesturing to the map on the table. “There have been reports of suspicious activity near the Shrieking Shack. I’ll need volunteers to investigate—discreetly, of course.”

     Y/N straightened slightly, her interest piqued. Sirius could see the determination in her eyes, the way she was already considering the assignment. But before she could speak, Remus gave her a subtle nudge with his elbow.

     “Don’t,” he murmured, his tone light but pointed.

     She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. Sirius felt a twinge of something—jealousy, irritation, he wasn’t sure—as he watched the exchange. They had their own unspoken language, a bond that had formed over years of shared experiences and trust.

     The meeting dragged on, Dumbledore moving from one topic to the next. Y/N’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the way she tapped her fingers against the table or shifted in her seat. Sirius found it hard to focus. His attention kept drifting to her—to the way her hair caught the candlelight, the way her brow furrowed in concentration.

      And then there were the little things, the details only he seemed to notice: the way her lips pressed together when she was deep in thought, the soft sigh she let out when something annoyed her.

     By the time the meeting adjourned, Y/N had reached her limit. She stood abruptly, muttering something about needing fresh air.

     Sirius watched her go, his eyes lingering on the way her hair swayed as she walked. He wondered if she realized how captivating she was, if she had any idea how much space she occupied in his thoughts.

     “You’re not very subtle, you know,” Remus said, breaking the silence.

     Sirius turned to him, frowning. “What are you on about?”

     Remus smirked, his tone dry. “You’ve been staring at her all night.”

     “I wasn’t staring,” Sirius said quickly, too quickly.

     “Right,” Remus said, gathering his things. “Just try not to make it so obvious next time.”

     Sirius let out a huff of irritation, running a hand through his hair. 

     But it was hard to look away.

     As the room emptied, Sirius stayed behind, slumping back in his chair. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across the walls. He closed his eyes, letting out a low sigh.

     The truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried—Merlin, he’d tried—but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Her voice, her smile, the way she carried herself with so much confidence and determination.

━━━━━━━•���°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

     The cold outside felt like it seeped into her bones as soon as she stepped through the door, the chill from the air making Y/N pull her coat tighter around her. She had rushed out earlier, frustrated with the meeting and the constant back-and-forth of words that never seemed to result in any real action. But now, standing alone in the cold yard of Grimmauld Place, she realized she’d left her coat and bag behind in the rush.

     With a resigned sigh, she turned back toward the house, the heavy wooden door creaking slightly as she entered. The warmth of the house immediately wrapped around her, but it wasn’t enough to shake the unease still lingering in her chest. She moved quickly through the entryway, making her way back to the sitting room where she had left her belongings.

     The house was eerily quiet now. The voices, the laughter, the bustling of the meeting—it had all vanished. The flickering candlelight in the sitting room seemed to magnify the silence, making everything feel still.

     She paused when she saw him.

     Sirius was sitting at the table, the same spot where the Order meeting had been held just a short while ago. His elbows rested on the edge of the table, his hands folded loosely in front of him, and his gaze was distant. He hadn’t noticed her entrance yet, his focus still on some faraway thought.

     Y/N’s steps slowed as she studied him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the stillness that seemed to surround him. He didn’t appear to have noticed her yet, his focus still on something she couldn’t see.

     She cleared her throat softly, breaking the quiet.

     Sirius looked up at the sound, his gray eyes meeting hers immediately, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past few hours hanging between them.

     “Forgot my coat,” Y/N said, her voice a little more subdued than usual as she gestured toward the chair where she had left her things.

     Sirius nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat. “You left in a bit of a hurry,” he said, a wry smile on his face. “Cold out there.”

     Y/N glanced down at her coat, then at him. “I guess I didn’t think about the cold.”

     “Would’ve figured you for someone who’d remember that,” he teased, but there was something softer in his voice now.

     Y/N stepped forward, picking up her coat from the chair. As her fingers brushed against the fabric, she hesitated. The frustration she had felt during the meeting had yet to leave her. The weight of Dumbledore’s decisions, the helplessness of their situation, had settled deep within her.

     Sirius observed her, his gaze softening. The silence between them was now something different, something more reflective. "You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice devoid of teasing now, the softness lingering in his words.

     “I’ll be fine,” she said lightly, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just... I need to clear my head.”

     Sirius raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look like you could use a drink. How about you stay for a bit?”

     Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was offering: a brief escape, a chance to let their shoulders down after the weight of the meeting. It was a kindness, one she rarely turned down when offered, but she wasn’t sure she was in the mood for conversation—at least, not the kind he seemed to want.

     She smoothed a hand over her coat, then met his gaze. "I don’t want to be a bother.”

     A small chuckle escaped him, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. He was trying, she could see that, but there was a quiet undercurrent in his voice now, one that didn’t have the usual playfulness. It was something else—something deeper.

     “You’re not a bother. You never are.” He paused, watching her closely, as though he were searching for something behind her guarded expression. “Come on. Let’s just... have a drink. Relax a little. Please.”

     Y/N could feel the hesitation in her chest, that resistance she’d built around herself, but she also knew she didn’t want to go back to her flat alone—not after tonight. Not when she could still feel the sharp sting of everything they had just discussed lingering in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, a drink with Sirius would help take the edge off.

     She sighed, stepping away from the doorframe. “Alright. Just one drink.”

     Sirius’s smile, though small, was genuine. It reached his eyes this time, and for a brief moment, Y/N caught a glimpse of something in his expression—a flicker of hope or perhaps relief. But then he masked it again, as he always did, with that ever-present, charismatic ease.

     “Excellent,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I’ll let you pick the poison. But if you say Firewhisky, I’m warning you, I’ll be pouring myself a double.”

     Y/N shook her head as she followed him through the hall. “I’m not in the mood for something that strong,” she replied, though she couldn’t hide the slight smile that tugged at her lips.

     He led the way into the kitchen. It was a small space, cozy even in its slightly outdated decor. Y/N had always thought there was something oddly comforting about the kitchen in Grimmauld Place—it was a place that felt lived in, not cold and sterile like the rest of the house.

     He moved to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of something dark, his fingers brushing over it in a way that suggested familiarity. “How about this?” he asked, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “A little bit of something to take the edge off without turning us into complete wrecks.”

     Y/N smiled at the offer. “I’ll try it. But I’m holding you to your word—just one drink.”

     “Of course,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge to his voice now, a quiet sincerity. “I’m not trying to get you drunk, Y/N. I just thought... after everything today, maybe a bit of peace wouldn’t hurt.”

     He poured them both a generous measure of the amber liquid, handing her the glass with a soft smile. She accepted it, their fingers brushing ever so slightly as she took it, and she was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Sirius’s presence always had this magnetic pull on her. Even now, as he leaned back against the counter, watching her with those dark eyes of his, she felt something shift in the air around them.

     “So, what did you think of the meeting?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but she could hear the underlying edge of exhaustion in his words. He was tired. They all were. But Sirius... Sirius had always worn his exhaustion differently. He carried it with a certain grace, a way of making it look effortless when it was anything but.

     Y/N shrugged, taking a small sip of her drink. “It’s the same as always. We talk strategy, we pretend like we know what we’re doing, and we leave with the same uncertainty as when we came in.”

     “Yeah,” Sirius muttered, his eyes darkening as he swirled his drink. “The war doesn’t exactly give us much to work with, does it?”

     Y/N looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face. There was something about the way he said it, like he had seen the world through darker lenses than most. She couldn’t deny that part of her was fascinated by that—by the depth of everything he had been through. And yet, there was always a part of him that seemed so light, so full of life. It was that contrast that both intrigued and unsettled her.

     “I think we’re all just waiting for the next bombshell to drop,” she said softly, her eyes not meeting his. “And in the meantime, we try to keep it together.”

     Sirius watched her closely, his eyes fixed on the movement of her lips as she slowly sipped her drink. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, he forgot about everything—about the weight of the meeting, about the ever-present tension of the war. It was just her, sitting across from him, and the soft glow of the kitchen lights casting shadows across her face. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he noticed the way the soft candlelight made her eyes shine, the way the curve of her lips looked even more inviting with every sip.

     Y/N felt his gaze before she saw it. The weight of his attention pressed on her, as though his eyes were tracing every line of her face, every small movement. It made her heart beat a little faster, a warmth spreading through her chest despite the cool air around them. She looked up over the rim of her glass, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were soft, but there was a flicker of something deeper, something more intense. Something she hadn’t noticed before—or maybe she had, but had ignored.

     “What is it, Sirius?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. “Do I have something on my face?”

     Sirius blinked, caught off guard for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. But the truth slipped out before he could stop it.

     “No,” he said softly, “just thinking... you’re beautiful.”

     Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small laugh escaping her lips. She set the glass down on the counter and crossed her arms, her gaze locking onto his. “Really?” she said with a playful smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

     Sirius chuckled, though there was a touch of nervousness beneath the laugh. The air between them seemed to shift, the tension thickening, and for a brief moment, he forgot all about the age gap that had kept him at bay for so long. The difference in their years had been a wall in his mind, one he had built to keep things at arm's length. But now, standing here with her, so close, so real, it felt like that wall was crumbling away piece by piece.

     He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and rough. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I’m not sure if I should say it.” His heart was hammering in his chest, the words threatening to spill out before he could stop them. “But... would you want to kiss me?”

     Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the question. It was so direct, so unguarded. And it was like the entire world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. She blinked, the shock of it mixing with something else—something warmer, something she hadn’t been expecting. She felt her pulse quicken, her eyes flicking to his lips before she caught herself.

     For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a teasing smile, the spark of mischief flickering in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”

     Sirius didn’t need any more encouragement. The restraint he had held onto for so long—the years of wondering, of doubting—slipped away in that moment. He moved closer, his hands coming up to gently cup her face, and then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, but it wasn’t long before the gentle pressure of his lips grew more urgent, more insistent, as though the need to be close to her had been building for far too long. Y/N responded in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she deepened the kiss.

     Sirius let out a soft groan as he felt her pull him closer, her body pressed against his. The intensity of the kiss surged, and he could taste the warmth of the alcohol on her lips, the tang of it mixing with the sweetness of her kiss. His hands roamed to her back, pulling her flush against him, his breath quickening as he kissed her deeper, harder, the world spinning around them.

     “Y/N...” he muttered against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re... heavenly.”

     Y/N’s heart was racing now, her hands tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin. She had never imagined this—never imagined that the distance between them could close so quickly, so completely. But now, with him so close, with his lips on hers, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

     She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her gaze locked on his. “Sirius...” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but thick with emotion. “Kiss me again.”

     Sirius didn’t need any more prompting. He kissed her again, this time with a desperation that was new—raw and hungry. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her with a depth that left them both breathless. The kiss was no longer soft. It was passionate, consuming, as though every doubt, every fear, was being kissed away in that one moment.

     He muttered a few curses, his lips trailing down to her neck, tasting the soft skin there. “God, Y/N... you don’t know what you do to me.” His voice was rough, strained, as he nipped gently at her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

     Y/N gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head back to give him better access. His lips were on her neck, hot and insistent, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to. Every part of her was alive with the sensation of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against hers.

     The kiss deepened once more, and without thinking, Sirius picked her up, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. The sudden movement surprised her, but it only made the moment more intense, more real. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and he groaned at the closeness, at the feeling of her body against his.

     His lips moved down her neck, kissing her in slow, deliberate strokes, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name. “Y/N...” he murmured again, as though trying to make sure she was still with him, still there. “You’re... perfect.”

     Her heart raced as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing over the sensitive skin there. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She only knew that she wanted more.

     When their kiss finally broke, both of them panting for air, they slid to the floor. Sirius’s head rested against her shoulder.

     Slowly he sat up, his hands still holding her waist. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of longing and something else—something deeper.

     “I was... worried,” he confessed, his voice low, vulnerable in a way she had never heard before. “Worried about the age difference. About whether you’d... feel the same. It’s always been in the back of my mind.”

     Y/N’s heart softened at his words, and she placed a hand gently on his cheek, brushing her thumb over the stubble there. “Sirius, I don’t care about that,” she said softly. “I’ve never even thought of it.”

     He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time, it was only a soft graze, a reminder of how easily he could lose himself in her.

     “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with the emotions he could never fully hide. “So damn beautiful, so bloody lovely...” He chuckled softly, a spark of mischief lighting in his eyes. “It’s maddening, really.”

     Y/N’s chest fluttered at his words, at the vulnerability that she could hear in his voice. She leaned in, gently kissing the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering for a moment longer than expected. “I’m really glad you convinced me to stay for a drink,” she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

     Sirius’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, he looked as though he might say something else, but instead, he moved, his hand rested on her leg, a soft touch that conveyed so much more than words could. Then, slowly, he shifted again, lying down with his head in her lap, the two of them surrounded by the quiet of the kitchen.

     He gazed up at her, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder, a touch of awe. “You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. “I can’t believe I’m here with you. I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so long.”

     Y/N blushed, a soft smile curling on her lips. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the warmth of the moment.

     Sirius let out a breath, as though he’d been holding it for far too long. His lips turned upward in a small, tender smile. And for a long moment, they stayed like that—him lying on her lap, her fingers in his hair, the weight of everything unspoken and everything new hanging between them, untold but not needed.

[thebiggestfan1]

sirius black x drunk!reader who ends up drunk confessing to him

The night was buzzing with laughter, the Gryffindor common room alive with the afterglow of yet another Marauders' prank successfully pulled. You leaned heavily on the arm of the couch, a giggle escaping your lips as you watched Sirius Black tell the most outrageous story—his arms flailing dramatically as James, Peter, and Remus sat around, half-listening, half-exchanging looks.

And you? You were tipsy. More than tipsy. You were well on your way to being drunk.

You glanced over at Sirius, your heart squeezing in your chest. You and Sirius were stuck in the most confusing situationship known to wizardkind. He’d flirt with you relentlessly, you'd flirt back, but neither of you had ever crossed that unspoken line. It was like some sort of dangerous dance, where both of you were afraid of the fall but addicted to the thrill.

But tonight… tonight felt different.

"Sirius!" James slurred slightly, giving his friend a nudge with his elbow. "I think our dear Y/N is starin' at ya."

Sirius grinned, but there was something softer in his eyes when they met yours. His voice was full of mischief when he called out, “Oi, Y/N, having a good time, love?”

You were feeling bold, fueled by the firewhiskey swirling in your system. You pushed yourself up from the couch, a lopsided smile plastered on your face as you staggered toward him, swaying slightly but giggling all the same. Remus gave you a knowing look, shaking his head fondly, while Peter just chuckled.

“You’re soooo pretty,” you drawled, poking Sirius’s chest with your finger. He caught your hand, steadying you, and smirked.

“And you’re drunk,” he teased, his fingers still wrapped around yours, and you swore you saw his eyes soften. His hand was warm, and it made your heart race.

“M'not that drunk,” you mumbled, leaning closer, your face inches from his. “Maybe a little. But that doesn’t make it any less true, Black. You. Are. Gorgeous.”

Sirius’s smirk faltered for a second, something flickering behind his eyes, something deeper than the usual playfulness. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

You frowned, tugging your hand free from his grasp and crossing your arms defiantly. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying you’re bloody pretty and I like you,” you declared, with a dramatic hand gesture that almost made you lose your balance. Sirius caught you, his arms steady around your waist now, and for a moment, you just stood there, the room spinning around you but Sirius… Sirius was your anchor.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice quieter now, his usual bravado slipping. The tension between you two had always been there, simmering just under the surface, and it felt like it was about to boil over.

“I like you too much,” you confessed in a rush, your cheeks heating as you realized what you’d just said. “But I don’t know… it’s just… we never… you know?” You huffed, frustrated with the jumble of your words, blinking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, and your breath hitched. “You’re drunk,” he repeated softly, but this time, it wasn’t a tease. It was almost like he was trying to protect himself.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

Sirius looked at you, really looked at you, like he was trying to figure something out, trying to decide if you were serious—pun intended. “You don’t want this just because you’re a bit tipsy, Y/N. You can’t just…”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, mate,” James groaned from the couch, interrupting the moment as he threw a pillow at Sirius. “Just kiss her already! We’re tired of watching this bloody show.”

Peter snorted, trying to hide his grin behind his hands, while Remus just shook his head, amused as ever. “You two are impossible,” he murmured under his breath.

Sirius glared at James, but when his eyes returned to you, the firelight flickering across his face, you could see the vulnerability there. You reached up, your hand resting gently against his chest, right over his heart.

“I mean it,” you whispered. “I’m not just saying it because I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I like you, Sirius. And I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Sirius swallowed hard, his usual confidence slipping, replaced by something far more genuine. He leaned in slowly, like he was giving you time to change your mind, his lips brushing softly against yours.

The kiss was tender at first, like he was still unsure, but when you kissed him back, your hands sliding up to his neck, he deepened it, pulling you closer. The world around you faded, the cheers from your friends distant as you lost yourself in him, the scent of his leather jacket and the warmth of his arms wrapping around you completely.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you both stared at each other, faces flushed, hearts racing.

“Finally,” James muttered from behind you.

Peter let out a low whistle, clapping slowly. “It only took them what, two years?”

“Shut up, Wormtail,” Sirius shot back, though his voice was playful now.

Remus raised his glass toward you both. “To no more mixed signals.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your head still spinning but this time not from the alcohol—just from him.

Sirius turned back to you, his forehead resting against yours. “I should’ve done that ages ago.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” you teased softly, grinning.

His eyes were full of affection now, no more teasing, no more hesitation. “You’re still drunk, love.”

“And you’re still pretty,” you countered, smirking.

Sirius chuckled, kissing your forehead this time. “Merlin help me, I’m in love with you.”

Your heart swelled, and despite the alcohol making your mind foggy, that confession rang clear.

“Good. Because I’m in love with you too.”

Sirius’s grin was blinding, and when he kissed you again, it felt like everything you’d been waiting for had finally fallen into place.

And this time, no one interrupted.

[thebiggestfan1]

Hey this is Mat Barzal. Yours is just one of many blogs I’m warning. Because of the blog hockeygossip101 I am writing to blogs asking not to use my image or my name anymore or there will be legal action taken. The blog I mentioned is being charged with slander. My lawyers are aware of all these blogs. Keep my name and Mayas name out of your mouths. Thanks. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you are all obese. I have a hot gf now so leave me alone.

lmaooo what the fuck is this 💀💀

thanks for making me laugh out loud!!

[thebiggestfan1]

hey y’all, it’s been a while!

it’s actually been months since I published anything here or even written a bit and i’m not sure if i’ll be able to write again. so sorry if you requested something, i might get back to it but not rn

i got myself a boyfriend and it feels just weird to keep writing the stuff i usually do. i know it’s not cheating but you know what i’m saying right ???

it’s probably stupid and i might be bored sometimes and try writing imagines again but i’ll take some time

with this i’m saying some kind of goodbye, i’ll be still checking up on you guys so feel free to dm me and we can chat! ❤️

[thebiggestfan1]

am i going crazy or do you see it too?

[thebiggestfan1]

I'm manifesting a final game between central and metropolitan but instead of hockey, they play spin the bottle and make out in a steamy fashion

[thebiggestfan1]

jonathan marchessault telling his kids that cale is the best defenseman in the league

[thebiggestfan1]

jack: you look so cute today buddy, in your little dress pants

z: *touches jack repeatedly*

[thebiggestfan1]

Trevor Zegras scoring a spinning goal while blind-folded as mascots throw dodgeballs at him???

[thebiggestfan1]

i woke up at 1:30 am just to spend the night watching all star game instead of sleeping. now it's 4:30.

am i really wasting my sleep on hockey? yeah. do i regret it? not a chance.

when did i become so invested in all this drama?

[thebiggestfan1]

asg 2022 accuracy shooting and gum chewing champion

[thebiggestfan1]

canes training sessions or competitions to see who can bully jarvy the hardest?

[thebiggestfan1]

self care is looking at pictures of sebastian aho

[thebiggestfan1]

not all heroes wear capes

Ao3 writers are the strongest Avengers

[thebiggestfan1]

Thanks for including me! I'm glad you liked my fic 🥰

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[thebiggestfan1]

[thebiggestfan1]

i could love you with my eyes closed - sebastian aho

Sebastian doesn't like your boyfriend - he's forgetful, stands you up, and doesn't know a thing about you. When will you see that he's the right guy to figure you out?

pairing: sebastian aho x reader

warnings: shitty boyfriend, angst, a lot of self-reflection disgused as fic

word count: 4k

a/n: happy fic exchange to everyone participating and happy birthday to me! for @sebbyaho i hope this is the sepe fic of your dreams! thank you as always to @antoineroussel for not only organizing this thing but catching my typos in the google doc. song title and inspo from figure you out by voila. love you guys, pls let me know what you think! <3

Sebastian doesn’t like the guy you’re dating.

It’s not exactly a fair sentiment, what with how polite Owen has always been to him. Owen’s a big fan of the Canes, truth be told, a Staal jersey or two hanging in his closet and season tickets that had been the reason behind your fated meeting two years ago.

At the time your roommate Gabby had just started seeing Teuvo, still in that phase where he wanted to impress her, and so he’d gotten the both of you tickets that happened to be next to Owen’s. One spilt beer and three periods of solid hockey and he had your number in his phone with the promise of a date.

That same night you’d also met Sebastian for the first time, awkwardly chatting with Gabby while surrounded by some of the most beautiful and intimidating women you’d ever seen who were all waiting for their own respective significant others. He’d come out of the locker room before Teuvo, likely a result of Teuvo being picked for additional media duty as a consequence of the three point night he’d put up (including one goal where he’d pointed in your direction causing Gabby to lock up with a deep blush on her cheeks). Sebastian had greeted your roommate fondly, pulling her into a hug and teasing her for the celly aimed in her direction before turning and introducing himself to you.

It was kind of like time had slowed then, the rest of the world fading into a dull blur while you smiled and told him your name.

If you were being honest, that initial meeting and the strange way he seemed to always drift toward you in the weeks that followed were the reason behind Owen’s inability to ‘lock you down’ as Gab had oh so eloquently put it. Except, nothing ever moved further than the quiet small talk and the sweet way he would check on you during nights out after wins.

And so you go on one date with Owen, and then another, and then another, and then you blink and you’ve been dating Owen for nearly two years and Gabby is moving in with Teuvo.

You’re upset. Understandably so, since you’ve lived with Gabby for the entirety of your adult life, having moved out of your parents home and directly into this apartment with her your first year of university.

Sebastian doesn’t like your boyfriend because Owen is nowhere to be found while you help Gabby pack her things, pretending like no one can see you discretely wipe your eyes every few minutes. Change has never really been something you’ve been good at dealing with, and it’s not that you’re not extremely happy for your best friend taking this next step in her relationship with Sepe’s best friend, because you certainly are. You’re just not really ready to come home to an empty apartment, no sound of paws tapping on the hardwood, no Twilight playing for the tenth time that month on the TV in the living room, no “you wanna order Chick-Fil-A” text at 10 pm.

He can see it written clearly on your face that you’re close to actual tears as you help pack her closet, and so he makes the executive decision that you two will be the ones to go pick up takeout, ignoring both your and Gabby’s protests that you can just order DoorDash.

It’s quiet as Sepe navigates through downtown Raleigh in search of your favorite Vietnamese restaurant, just the sound of the radio softly playing some top 100 pop song that you seem to know the melody of, if not the lyrics. He speaks your name quietly and it’s like the dam breaks, water rushing through the cracks in the foundation and drowning out the landscape in its wake.

“I don’t want her to go, is that selfish of me?” you ask without looking at him, unable to handle the judgmental look you’re certain he’s wearing.

“Maybe a little,” he says carefully, cracking a small grin as you exasperatedly say his name, finally looking at his side profile while his eyes are carefully on the road ahead of him.

“It’s not that I don’t want her to be happy-” you start to explain yourself, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“I know.” His tone of voice is reassuring if a bit condescending as he continues, “You know that this won’t change anything right? She’ll still be your best friend.”

“But she won’t be right there,” you protest weakly, picking at your nail beds.

“A little distance isn’t going to mean anything, look at Teuvo and me, still best friends and we haven’t lived together since I was a rookie.”

“That’s different, you still see each other every day.”

He risks looking away from the road for a minute, meeting your eyes briefly to let you know he means business. “You don’t really think there’s anything that could come between your friendship, do you?”

It’s nothing earth shattering, not really anything you hadn’t already heard or already thought on your own, but for some reason it’s far more meaningful coming from Sebastian. You return with the takeout and finish packing the rest of Gabby’s things. After the boys leave, she crawls into your bed - one last sleepover before she’s gone for good, and you don’t even think about Owen or his glaringly obvious absence until he’s lighting up your phone with empty platitudes and a promise to take you to some fancy new restaurant you don’t even have an interest in going to.

-

Your birthday is kind of a big deal.

When you were a kid, your mom would wake you with a fat stack of pancakes and let you skip school for the day, doing anything and everything you could think of instead. You’re a bit older now, have a few more responsibilities these days, but that doesn’t stop you from keeping up the tradition, using a day of PTO and meeting Sebastian at a fancy breakfast place downtown.

It was his idea to meet for brunch - when he’d found out that Owen didn’t have any plans for you on your birthday, he’d taken it upon himself to invite you instead. Sepe is thoughtful like that, sweet and kind and the best listener you’ve ever met. He remembers things about you, like birthday traditions and the brand of lip balm you like best.

You feel a pang at your heart for a moment, a twisting of your stomach in the comfortable silence that falls between you two after ordering. If pressed, you would say it was just a hunger pain, but truthfully it’s probably more related to the soft smile on his face that he directed at your giggling waitress, her finger curling a solitary lock of hair around it while she took your order.

And it’s silly, ridiculous even because he’s not yours, not your boyfriend, not your anything but a friend. You’ve got a boyfriend, even if he’s too busy with work to be the one to take you out for birthday pancakes.

Sebastian sees the little crinkle between your eyebrows, the little pout on your face and incorrectly attributes it to Owen’s absence. He thinks your boyfriend is an idiot and can’t comprehend a world where anything could ever be considered more important than you. The words almost escape his lips, but he knows it wouldn’t do anything but upset you.

You’re upset a lot these days, he’s noticed. Gabby too.

There’s not a doubt in Sebastian’s mind that if you knew that he and Gabby talked about how worried they were about you that you would be embarrassed, maybe even a little angry. Not necessarily at your best friends, not even at Owen who would surely deserve to face the ire of your wrath. No, you would likely be angry at yourself for causing concern in the first place, for not hiding things better. You demand the best for everyone around you, offering your share of love and then some, but accept less than the bare minimum when it comes to yourself.

“Is he going to make any time for you today?” he can’t help but snap, regretting the words the instant they leave his mouth as your shoulders fall and you somehow make yourself even smaller in the cold vinyl booth.

“That’s not fair, he’s just busy. Not everyone can be an NHL superstar, some people are working at 11 in the morning on a Friday.” You’re aiming for teasing, but land somewhere between bitter and sad.

The way he then speaks your name says volumes, but you’re not ready to hear any of it.

“Gabby’s ignoring me,” you state stiffly a minute or two of silence later. Sebastian sighs, he knows a deflection when he hears one. He also knows the reason for her radio silence, knows your best friend is like an excitable puppy when she’s got a secret.

And so he plays along, shrugs with a small smile on his face and says she’s probably just busy at work, before pointing at your plate, “Your pancakes are getting cold.”

You don’t know what his angle is, but you play along dutifully anyway, dramatically stabbing your pancakes while glaring at him. The glare doesn’t last though, not with the smile he sends your way as if your childish antics don’t do anything more than endear him to you further.

After brunch, he takes you to the museum. There’s a new exhibit you’ve been dying to see, dropping hints left and right for Owen that went unanswered. Truly, you can’t remember mentioning it to Sebastian more than once, and your stomach flips with the implications that someone actually listens when you speak.

Lastly, he drops you off at home and makes you promise to arrive at your favorite restaurant at 7 pm sharp. With an eye roll, you cross your heart and rush inside, collapsing on the couch for a well-deserved birthday nap.

It’s closer to 7:15 than 7:30 when you arrive, but you’re not concerned. Not even when the lights are off when you open the door. Not even when a room full of your friends and family shout ‘surprise!’ Not even when you’re immediately thrown off balance by your best friend tossing herself at you.

You’re not concerned until you realize your boyfriend isn’t among them.

Sebastian can see it in your eyes, that little flicker of hope as you look out among the people who have shown up for you tonight. He feels part of his own heart break as he watches it be snuffed out. Because the one you’re looking for isn’t here tonight. Owen isn’t here tonight and Sebastian hates him for it.

You pretend like it’s fine, like you don’t feel your heart breaking that little bit further. And it works, mostly. To the average party goer, it’s a good night and your smile lights up your face. Sebastian isn’t fooled, though. He sees the way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, sees the flashes of disappointment when you think no one else is looking.

Really, it’s a good party - thoughtful and fun and everyone has a great time. There’s no mistaking the bitterness when you go to bed alone without so much as a happy birthday text from Owen, though.

He ‘makes it up’ to you with tickets to some rap show, but you can’t help but think of how Sepe promised to take you to see your actual favorite band with Gabby and Teuvo.

-

You wonder sometimes how different life would be if you’d come on a little stronger when you first met Sebastian. If you’d be dating by now, if you’d be his plus one to the team Christmas party instead of Teuvo’s plus one’s plus one. If you would have coordinated matching ugly Christmas sweaters and baked cookies together and drove here together, hands held tightly over the gear shift.

Because Owen went home to see his family in Atlanta for Christmas Day, you’d done Christmas this morning, exchanging gifts while watching Christmas movies. It was disappointing to say the least, a real mess of a day where you’d all but screamed at Owen that you didn’t want to take the next step and move in with him. He’d cried, you’d cried, the neighbors dog had cried and barked because the walls of your apartment were so thin.

And so you’re ready to have a good time tonight, dressed in a fashionable sweater with candy cane earrings hanging from your earlobes.

Gabby getting hit with a near-crippling migraine before supper’s even ready is not quite in your holiday party plans. Neither is the shit-eating grin on Teuvo’s face as he assures you “Fishy won’t mind driving you home if you want to stay longer,” or Sebastian’s responding confirmation nod.

The eggnog you drink and the mistletoe you dodge and the songs you dance to are, though. A significant portion of your evening is spent chasing around the various children, roping Sepe into your antics and even forcing a reindeer headband on him for pictures. You’re running from your problems if you’re being honest, and Sebastian knows you well enough to know this to be the case.

“Spit it out,” Sebastian finally states after helping you into your jacket and leading you to his car. “What did he do to upset you?”

You think about lying, about brushing it off like nothing’s wrong, but the look in his eyes says he isn’t going to let this go easily. “He tried to buy us a condo. A penthouse... And I’m-”

“Afraid of heights,” he states at the same time you do. Really you should be shocked that your friend knows you better than your boyfriend of two years, but it’s not the first time Sebastian hit a bullseye while Owen’s darts hit the ceiling.

“Yeah,” you admit, “And I’m not sure I want to leave my apartment.” Read: you’re not sure you want to leave your apartment and move in with Owen. And really, that should be a blaring warning, a flagrant red flag that after two years you’re not certain you want to move in with him. But you love him, right? And he loves you, misguided intentions and all. Besides, it’s not like you have a line of suitors at the door begging for your time and attention.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it. He’s sorry your boyfriend is a moron, sorry you don’t think you deserve better, sorry he was too shy and nervous to ask you out before things got serious with Owen.

It’s quiet as you walk to his car, a very quietly muttered thank you passing from your lips as he opens the door for you. For a moment you both just sit there, the car not even running while he sits and contemplates his next move. Before you really know what’s happened, he’s reaching into the backseat and for a second you wonder if Gabby and Teuvo set you up. The genuine look of pain that had been on her face convinces you that’s not exactly the case, but something about it all feels too convenient.

“I uh- I got you something,” Sebastian says quietly, all shy-like with rosy cheeks. The gift box he holds isn’t very big, doesn’t have any breathing holes and it isn’t barking, so it can’t be the puppy you’d jokingly told everyone who would listen you wanted for Christmas.

“Sepe,” you say tone equally as soft, trying to hide the way your hands are shaking by holding them in your lap. “You really didn’t have to get me anything, I didn’t even get you a gift.”

He kind of clears his throat and gulps all at the same time in a gesture that reads nervous more than anything. “You don’t have to get me anything, just say you’ll use the gift and that will be enough.”

Your curiosity is piqued now, but you have no idea what’s in the box and can’t just readily agree like that. What if it was some kind of cruel trick or practical joke? “I can’t just agree, Sepe,” you try to argue.

“Just say yes.” He’s so genuine in his delivery that you find yourself nodding. He nods himself, satisfied with your answer and hands it to you. When you pull off the gift bow, you notice that it’s a little crooked, bringing a smile to your face.

That smile quickly drops as you open it fully and take in the gift in your hands. It’s confirmation for a round trip to Finland in the upcoming summer. Somehow you stutter through the words “I can’t accept this, it’s too much and I can’t get the time off. Thank you, really, but I can’t-”

“Gabby already got you to take the time off, and I want to show you my home.” It’s the earnestness with which he speaks coupled with the knowledge that, yeah, you did already have the two weeks off as a result of Gabby’s meddling. You’d thought you were going on a road trip, but you should have known better - she often got carsick.

For a second you panic. The excuse you’d given Owen when you turned down the penthouse was the exorbitant nature of the gift. How was an all expense paid trip to a place you’d always dreamed of visiting any different?

The giant grin that slowly takes over Sebastian’s face as you agree to go has your heart telling you the truth.

The difference is the man offering you the gift.

-

Finland is beautiful.

Sebastian’s friends and family are wonderful and seeing his childhood home is just one small piece of the painting that has been revealing itself to you. It’s his attentiveness toward you - always making sure your needs are being met whether it’s taking you to explore the beauty of Finland’s nature or the cuisine, making sure you’re comfortable in every social situation he puts you in, or noticing when you need something before you’ve even realized it yourself. It’s the little things he remembers, like the way you like your tea or your aversion to certain foods or the way you like to wake up gently with the sun over an alarm clock.

Finland is where you realize that Owen just isn’t doing it for you, and he hasn’t for a long time.

It’s a terrifying realization and yet one that makes your chest feel a little less tight, your mind a little lighter. Of course, you’re not the type of girl to break up over text when you’re across the globe. Even if Owen hadn’t responded to your message in more than a day (you’d tried to explain it away to yourself that it was just the time zone until you and Sebastian had gone for lunch with Teuvo - with Gabby responding to your snapchat despite it being barely past 4 am in North Carolina simply because she was a little jealous) you couldn’t be that cruel.

It’s on your mind for the last few days of your trip, leaving you slightly distant and not entirely there in conversation. Sebastian brushes it off as you not wanting to return to the grind of your regular life, and you all but encourage that thought when he brings it up.

Eventually all good things must end, and you find yourself tearing up as you hug Sebastian tightly in the drop off lane at the airport. It feels a lot like the end of something as you prepare to go home and break up with your long term boyfriend, but it also feels a lot like the start of something better if his tight grip on you is any indication.

You’re not hanging all your hope on Sebastian’s back, though. Even if you’ve misread every sign, even if the gentle way he loves you is nothing more than platonic, you can’t keep accepting the half-assed nature of Owen’s love. You deserve someone who listens when you speak, who remembers tiny details about you, who makes you a priority in his life. Even if that person isn’t Sebastian, you now know with certainty it’s not Owen.

Breaking up with Owen is weird.

He cries a bit, and is more than a little confused. His ignorance is almost infuriating, the excuses dropping from his mouth like the North Carolina rain in July. Choosing a semi-public location for the breakup is one of your smarter ideas when it comes to this man, because it doesn’t afford him the opportunity to make too large of a scene.

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” he finally asks.

“Owen,” you sigh dramatically into your cup of coffee. “What’s my favorite song?”

He’s silent and that’s the moment you know it’s really and truly over. It’s such a stark contrast from the way Sebastian had swatted at your hand when you wanted to skip Anchor by Novo Amor while your spotify playlist blared from his car speakers, smirking and stating he knew it was your favorite song ‘of the moment, at least’.

“I’m sorry,” you say but don’t really mean it, “I’ll drop off your stuff when I have a chance this week.”

When Sebastian flies back for training camp, it’s you who meets him at the airport. It’s a tame reunion, a hug that you lean a little too much into and then you’re driving him home.

In his kitchen, he offers you a drink and you accept a water. Before he’s even reached the cupboard to pull down a glass he’s turning on you.

“He doesn’t know a thing about you,” Sebastian’s voice is impassioned, his every emotion written across the planes of his face, down the slope of his nose and in the curve of his lips.

“Sebastian-” you try to interject, try to tell him that Owen hasn’t been in the picture for weeks at this point.

“No, listen,” he states, and you do. “I could love you with my eyes closed and it kills me to see you waste your time with Owen who probably couldn’t even pick Gabby out of a lineup. He wants you to spend time with his friends, but never makes the effort with yours. It feels like I’ve known you forever, and I know there’s still a lot to figure out about you, but I want to show you that I’m the right guy to do it.”

Your heart is doing this funny thing where it’s simultaneously beating in your ears and yet it feels like it’s lodged in your throat. Because these are all the words you’ve been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime. Here is this beautiful, kind, sweet man who is doing the one thing you’ve always wanted - he’s paying attention. And it feels so bottom of the barrel, literally the bare minimum, the bar is beneath the floor at this point, but you don’t care.

“I broke up with Owen when I got home,” you tell him. His eyes flicker to you quickly, dangerously, hopefully.

“Oh.”

“I want you to be the right guy too, Sepe.” It’s the clearest way you know how to say it, can’t really form the words any other way. They’re on the tip of your tongue, though. I want you. I think I could love you. I’ve been waiting for you.

“Oh.”

“Can you say something else please?” your voice comes out more of a plea than authoritative, cracking the tiniest bit on the last word.

The problem is he doesn’t have the words either. Or at least, not in English. A million and one Finnish phrases die in his throat, and so he does the next best thing. He crowds into your space, places his hands on either side of your neck and presses his lips to yours.

The first kiss is sweet, soft, hesitant. When he pulls back you chase his lips, and suddenly it’s a lot more. Harder, heavier, sweeter. You kiss and you kiss and you kiss, and you both know you should really talk about this further.

But with his eyes closed and his lips on yours he thinks, yeah, he really could love you.