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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 2 years

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Today's fic comes from two of our moderators, StarlingFlight and FloreatCastellum! Our gift to everyone who has so far enjoyed the fest!

Title: GothicPigeon

Author: StarlingFlight and FloreatCastellum

Pairing: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: Someone receives a gift they really hate.

‘Open it now,’ Percy said eagerly.

‘It’s not Christmas for another-’

‘I know, I know, but - without spoiling it too much - it’ll be too late on Christmas day, it should be enjoyed for the whole festive season.’

Ron did as he was bid, unwrapping the perfectly presented parcel with no small amount of trepidation. ‘Ooh,’ he forced himself to say, as he uncovered the gift.

It looked almost like an old portrait at first glance, if portraits were often of pigeons wearing gothic, Tudor style dresses. The... decoration, if it could be called such a thing, was, in Ron’s opinion, the stuff of nightmares, or a side-effect from a bad batch of some kind of mind-altering potion. Intricately embellished with beads and jewels, the pigeon-woman cross (for, Ron noticed with utter horror, the pigeon head was matched with human hands), was poised, wearing an embroidered red velvet gown and holding a bouquet of flowers. A loop of ribbon suggested it should be hung from a Christmas tree, rather than thrown into the bowels of hell where he felt it belonged. He supposed that the abomination was supposed to be opulent, quirky, maybe even artistic, but quite frankly he thought he had never set eyes on a more horrifying concept, and he had seen some dark magic in his time.

‘Isn’t it superb?’ Percy asked, beaming expectantly at Ron, who seemed to be frozen with the ornament’s velvet box still clutched in his hand. The pigeon waved regally at him.

Ron opened his mouth, though he wasn’t entirely sure what words might come out. ‘It’s quite something,’ he said eventually.

‘Very unique,’ added Hermione. Concerningly, Ron couldn’t hear any hint of the same strain that had filled his voice.

‘We just thought it was something a bit different - more interesting than your bog standard bauble, anyway.’

‘Interesting,’ Ron repeated faintly. Hermione, he knew, would have a hundred different words to describe the horrendous ornament held in his hands, but even with Ron’s limited vocabulary he was sure ‘interesting’ wouldn’t be his first choice.

'I'll put it on the tree now,' said Hermione, with what Ron thought was an exceptionally diplomatic smile.

'I'm so pleased you like it,' said Percy, satisfied. 'I always find buying presents so difficult. While I've got you, Ron - any ideas on what Rose might like? Anything you need for the new baby?'

Ron tried to suggest things, but he was heavily distracted by Hermione in his peripheral vision, hanging the monstrous gothic pigeon on a branch of the tree, far too front and centre for his liking. He babbled and stammered incoherently, all ideas for potential gifts for Rosie had been knocked out of his head by the ghastly ornament now staring sinisterly at him from his Christmas tree.

'Books,' Hermione responded, clutching her heavily swollen stomach as she returned to the sofa and lowered herself down to sit beside Ron once more.

'Books?' Ron responded incredulously, his wife’s words having succeeded at driving the horrendous pigeon-woman nightmare from his brain. 'She’s a toddler! She doesn’t want books!'

'Of course she does,' Hermione insisted. Ron cast a doubtful glance to the other side of the room where Rose sat on the carpet, playing quietly with her stuffed unicorns. 'She’s a very advanced reader.'

'Excellent,' Percy said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. 'Audrey bought Lucy a lovely little book which explains the goblin banking system in an age-appropriate, engaging manner. I’ll find out where she got it.'

Hermione nodded enthusiastically at Percy’s suggestion. Ron raised a hand to his mouth, attempting to cover the painful groan which escaped him. His gaze moved from Rosie to the jewel-encrusted pigeon, which gave him a spine-chilling wink. If he’d been asked just mere minutes ago, he was certain he would not have thought it possible that Rosie would be receiving a worse gift than him this Christmas.

The rest of Percy’s visit passed agonisingly slowly. Ron sipped his tea and nodded mutely as Hermione and Percy chatted at length about the latest legislation changes at the Ministry, the potential candidates for the new head of International Magical Cooperation and the seemingly thrilling rumour that there may be a new template for internal memos.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Percy clapped a hand on his knee before rising from the sofa. 'I’d best be off,' he said, sending his now-empty mug to the kitchen with a flick of his wand.

Hermione began to wiggle towards the edge of her seat, her face furrowed in concentration at the effort of getting up.

'Don’t bother,' Ron said, placing a hand gently on her bump. 'I’ll see him out.'

He’d expected an argument, a stubborn lecture on the importance of manners, but Hermione’s face smoothed in relief and she collapsed against the back of the sofa without a word of disagreement.

'There’s no need to see me out,' Percy agreed before Ron could stand to follow him. 'I’m quite confident I can find my way to the door.'

'Rosie, say goodbye to your Uncle Percy,' Ron said, happy to let Percy see himself out. Rosie looked up from her unicorns just long enough to wave at Percy who gave her a polite nod in return.

'I’ll see you at Christmas dinner,' he said to Ron and Hermione, already backing towards the door.

'We’ll see you there,' Ron agreed, waving much like Rose had done.

'Thank you for the gift,' Hermione said, smiling with disturbing earnestness at the decoration.

'You’re most welcome,' Percy said, winding his scarf tightly around his neck before disappearing out into the hall.

Ron waited a few moments after the slam of the door, and then turned to Hermione with raised eyebrows and a great sigh. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘Right, let’s get that monstrosity off the tree, then - reckon we could say ‘Shanks broke it and, I dunno, it couldn’t be fixed for some reason?’

‘What monstrosity?’ she said. She looked over at the tree. ‘The gothic pigeon thing?’

‘Yes of course the gothic pigeon thing!’ he exclaimed, utterly flabbergasted. ‘What else would I be talking about?’

‘I think it’s quite quirky - there’s a whole range of them in Twilfitt and Tattings, they were recommended in-’

‘You can’t seriously like it?’

‘I…’ She hesitated, looking back at the tree and tilting her head. The gothic pigeon cooed quietly. ‘I’ll admit, it’s not what I would have bought for myself but is it strange that now that we have it I actually… sort of love it?’

‘Yes,’ he said, flatly. ‘Yes, that is very strange. It’s foul.’

‘God, yes, it’s completely bizarre and foul,’ she agreed. ‘But I quite like that. I like something a bit offbeat.’

‘Well now I’m really worried what that says about me, the man you chose to marry,’ he said flippantly.

This made her laugh, but it did not convince her to remove the crime against Christmas from the tree.

The pigeon remained in place over the next few days. Ron’s persistent attempts to move it to the back of (or, on several occasions, entirely off) the tree, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind, were consistently foiled by Hermione, who despite her current mobility issues seemed to have no problem retrieving the hideous thing and placing it back at the centre.

It was not just Ron who seemed distrubed by Percy’s latest gift. Crookshanks, who had always enjoyed the Christmas tree and the many opportunities it provided for bauble batting, had taken to hissing every time he stalked past it.

Two days after Percy’s visit, Ron walked into the living room to find Rose standing before the tree crying. Ron scooped her up into his arms just as Hermione entered the room.

'What’s wrong?' she asked, hurrying to Rose as quickly as she could, which was still rather slow, given her current condition.

'It’s that thing!' Ron snapped, holding a still-sobbing Rosie tighter to his chest. 'It’s mentally scarring her!'

'The pigeon?' Hermione asked incredulously. 'Don’t be silly, Ron! It’s just a decoration!'

'It’s nightmare-inducing!' Ron argued. Rose wriggled in his arms, no longer crying and apparently desperate to get down.

'Don’t be so preposterous!' Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief. 'It’s perfectly harmless! She just has an active imagination - look,' she said, nodding as Rose scampered off, 'she’s fine now!'

Ron’s responding argument was cut short by a loud knock at the door. Hermione turned away from him and straightened the ornament on the tree, smiling proudly at it as she did.

He shook his head, pleased that Hermione could not see his look of disgust as he left the living room and headed down the hallway towards the waiting front door.

A wave of sound hit him as Ron pushed the door open, washing the disagreement with Hermione from his mind. The scene which awaited him was one that had become increasingly regular as of late.

Albus, his face bright red and streaked with tears, clung tightly to Ginny’s jumper. The wails emitting from him were muffled by her chest and James’ loud shouts.

‘I didn’t do anything!’ James yelled, his lip wobbled as he stamped one small foot on Ron’s doorstep.

‘Oh, so he’s crying for no reason then?’ Ginny demanded, one hand stroked softly at Al’s head as she glared down at James.

‘Yes! He always is-!’

Ron turned to Harry who had a resigned expression on his face as he watched the argument unfold. Lily was strapped snuggly against his chest, babbling loudly as though she too would like her opinion on the matter heard.

‘Alright?’ Ron asked loudly, bringing an abrupt end to the racket.

‘Never better,’ Harry responded, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Taking pity on his best mate, Ron stepped aside and beckoned the five Potters into the house.

Albus continued to sniffle quietly as Ginny carried him through the hallway and into the lounge. James stomped behind them, glaring furiously at his mother’s back.

‘What’s all that about?’ Ron whispered to Harry, who had paused to hang his cloak on the peg beside the door.

‘Who knows,’ he responded with a despondent shrug as he moved to release the straps on Lily’s baby carrier. ‘They can’t go five minutes without falling out recently.’

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic smile, trying to ignore the nagging concern that he had all this to come with Rosie and the new baby. Memories of the loud, obnoxious and utterly pointless arguments which had filled the Burrow growing up replayed through his mind with horrifying clarity.

‘James,’ Ron called, choosing not to dwell on such inconvenient memories.

A moment later, James’ head appeared around the doorframe to the living room. He looked curiously up at Ron, who beckoned him down the hallway towards him.

‘I’ve been waiting for you to get here,’ Ron said, crouching down so that he was eye level with James. ‘The Bertie Botts tree is getting out of hand again.’

James smiled widely, revealing several gaps where there had previously been baby teeth. He leaned forward one the balls of his feet, almost leaping with barely contained excitement. ‘Is it?’

‘It’s a two man job at least, though, you and Al will have to do it together,’ Ron said sternly.

‘All right,’ said James quickly, and he hurried off, shouting, ‘Al! Al! Come on!’

Ron gave his wand a quiet, understated flick, and, unseen by the two young boys, several packets of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans zoomed out from the highest kitchen cupboard and hung themselves on the branches of the olive tree outside. ‘You too, Rosie!’ he called. ‘Help your cousins harvest the tree for me.’

‘Fantastic idea, that,’ said Harry, once the kids had hastily pulled on their cloaks and hurried, with thudding, clumsy, over-eager feet, outside. ‘Might get a Bertie Bott tree myself-’

‘Don’t you dare, it’s my thing, find your own fun uncle schtick.’

‘And just think, Harry,’ said Ginny wearily, taking baby Lily from his arms. ‘Every morning we’d go through the whole saga of explaining to James that no, it’s not ready to harvest yet. Every. Day.’

‘Tea or coffee?’ Hermione called from the kitchen, and Harry and Ginny called back their orders as they kicked off their shoes.

‘I’ll go give her a hand,’ said Harry, and as he entered the kitchen Ron heard him exclaim, ‘Hermione! That baby still not come yet? You look ready to pop.’

Baby Lily began to grizzle and squirm, clumsily headbutting Ginny’s collarbone and pulling at her top. ‘Right, I get the hint,’ Ginny told her. ‘Let’s give you a feed, come on.’

She headed for the living room door, and Ron followed, thinking that he would walk through and join the kids outside to watch them 'harvest' the olive tree of sweets, when Ginny spoke loudly.

‘What in the ever loving fuck is that?’

She’d stopped dead in the living room, staring over the glossy coffee table with Hermione’s newly bought poinsettia, past the fireplace adorned with stockings, a garland of ivy and Christmas lights, to their glittering Christmas tree. Her expression was one of pure disgust, Lily still wriggling against her.

‘What?’ Ron asked.

‘That!’

He followed the direction of her nod. ‘Oh, you mean the Christmas decoration that haunts my every waking moment? Gift from Percy.’

Apparently unable to tear her eyes away from it, Ginny sat down on the sofa and, with practiced expertise, began unbuttoning her blouse one handed for her daughter. ‘And you put it on your tree?’ she said, bewildered.

‘Look, I keep taking it off and hiding it - that way I can put it back if Percy pops round - but Hermione always finds it somehow and puts it back on.’

Ginny shook her head in amazement. ‘The depths that girl goes to for politeness.’

Ron chuckled with dark, mirthless laughter. ‘Politeness has nothing to do with it. She likes it.’

‘What?’ spluttered Ginny. ‘How?’

The children came rushing in, pink faced from the cold but panting with glee. ‘Look!’ James shouted, bouncing ungracefully around as he ran in, his arms full of brightly coloured packets. ‘Look how many there were!’

‘Oh, wow!’ said Ron.

‘You must have not harvested it for ages, Uncle Ron!’

‘I must not have done! Good thing I’ve got you lot.’

‘Maybe…’ said Al, in a very small voice, ‘maybe we should come round more often to make sure it gets done on time.’

‘How come it only needs harvesting when cousins are round?’ asked Rosie loudly.

‘Magic,’ said Ron, and she seemed to accept this. The toddlers dutifully followed James onto the rug in front of the fireplace, and they placed the sweets in the middle of their little circle and began the complex process of negotiation.

Voices rose from the hallway as Harry and Hermione approached; Ron saw Harry carrying a tray laden with a tea pot and rattling with four teacups, Hermione waddling behind with a jug of juice and small plastic cups floating alongside her.

‘-But, you know, might be quicker this time around,’ Hermione was saying hopefully.

‘Hard to think how it could be slower, how long were you in labour last ti-’ Harry was replying, but he stopped dead in the middle of the living room so suddenly that Ron was surprised the tea didn’t slide off the tray.

‘What the fu-’ Harry’s eyes quickly flicked to the kids, gathered on the rug around their sweets. ‘-udge?’ he finished. ‘What on earth is that?’

‘What?’ asked Hermione, an unmistakably stung tone to her voice that showed that she knew perfectly well what he was looking at.

Like Ginny, he nodded to the Christmas tree. ‘That.’

‘That’s the worst Christmas decoration ever designed,’ Ron informed him. ‘Percy gave it to us.’

‘What did you do to upset Percy?’ Harry asked, setting the tray down, though keeping his eyes trained on the horrible pigeon.

‘That’s the sad thing, mate - I don’t think he meant it as a punishment. I think he really expected us to like it.’

‘It’s not that bad!’ said Hermione.

‘It is, and when you’ve had the baby, the fog will be lifted and you’ll realise too.’

‘It is truly horrid, Hermione,’ said Ginny.

‘Haunting,’ said Harry.

Ron clicked his fingers and pointed at him. ‘Exactly what I said.’

‘Be nice,’ tutted Hermione, easing herself into the armchair and rubbing her large stomach. ‘It’s a bit out there, but I’ve grown quite attached to Ethelburga.’

‘I hope you have better names for the baby,’ said Ron.

‘Ooh, no, I quite like that, actually,’ said Ginny, and she looked back at the decoration. ‘Yeah, it suits her.’ She tilted her head. ‘Aw, I see what you mean, I do quite like the creepy little horror show now.’

‘You’ve both lost it.’

‘What on earth are you talking about? Look at it.’

‘Quirky, isn’t it?’ said Hermione cheerfully, as though neither Harry or Ron were speaking.

‘She’s atrociously tacky, but I sort of love her?’

‘The more you look at her!’ Hermione exclaimed excitedly. ‘She’s enchanting, in her own bizarre way.’

‘Exactly! Look at her, the foul, ugly beauty. She’s so… so horrible. I love her. What an icon. Yeah, I’ve changed my mind entirely.’

Harry looked absolutely despairing; he gave a great, heavy sigh, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, as though he had just read something traumatic in a morgue report.

‘What?’ said Ron.

‘Percy and Audrey are coming round tomorrow,’ Harry muttered. ‘Says he’s got an early Christmas present for us.’

#submission #ttb yule bash

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sorryjustafangirl · 3 years

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what home is

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

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

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

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

“It’s Tim, actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's 18 :)

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

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

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

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

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

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

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hockey tends to do that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you send those pictures you took today?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the numbers…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Mom, deal."

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

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

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

"You don't?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Neither is french fries,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

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

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What what means?”

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

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

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

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

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

***

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

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Figured what out?”

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re okay, right?”

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

***

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

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

Except it was like that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

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

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

“Can you get to the point please?”

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

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

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

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

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

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

“I let people in--”

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

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

“How do I do that?”

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

Be honest with him

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

And that was scary.

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

So when are you getting in?

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

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

we’re friends?

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

good to know thanks :)

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

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

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

“Dani...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

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

“Y/n,”

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

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

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

“You’ll talk to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I don’t speak German…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next step was to really open up.

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If.

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

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

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

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

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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shadowworks · 4 years

Text

What’s Said Is Said

Pairing: Fae!Hawks X F!Reader

Warnings: Dub-con themes, light bondage, oral, virgin reader(‘ye ‘ol times idk man) Fae’s being dicks

Word Count: 5.7k

Credit; Thank you lovely wife for creating this beautiful banner! You’re always the sweetest, I swear, @pleasantanathema

A/N: This piece is part of the, Pleasant & Strider Present: The Smut Pile Fantasy AU Collab! Like before, this is written in third person but is still a reader x Hawks fic. Maybe one day I'll write in second person. Today is not that day.

Hope you Enjoy~

***

Everyone in town heard the warning of the Dark Forest. Never wander beyond the treeline or else you’ll be snatched by the fae. And while this did scare the children from their southern borders, there were those in adulthood who took the fable with a grain of salt. The leaves and branches shroud the forest floor in this never ending night, and the winds blew through the trees like a soft, ominous whisper calling out, “this way” —But it did not mean there were faeries.

Still, the young traveler moved forward.

She wandered slowly—carefully through the wood with her lantern raised high. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been looking for her cat. As noticeable as her black cat was in a town bathed in sunlight, it was quite the opposite under the thick cover of leaves. But she would not abandon her friend who dulled the dreadful nights, who turned her wet frown into a soft laugh. No, she’d find him, and they’d leave the forest together.

She called out again searching through the wild brush. She looked for motion across the grass--the snap of a twig, a shadow across her light. But still, there was nothing.

In fact, it was silent. She slowed her steps to a stop, turning her head to the side. Her brows crinkled together. The wind that shook the branches, that rippled her dress had ceased, and in the moment- so had the sounds of the forest. She held her breath, jerking toward the other side as she felt a figure standing in the shadows. But she exhaled her breath. There was nothing.

When the silence remained like a fog among the ominous trees, she eventually lowered her lantern. There was great reluctance, but she could not hold still like the animals. She had a selfish thought of wanting to turn back around and hurry home...Instead she tread lightly on her worn shoes, pressing forward against the web of mossy stones

If something was out there...She’d do well to avoid it.

The young traveler’s steps did not make it far, however, as she stopped dead in her tracks.

A muffling noise seemed to be coming from all around, but then the wind brushed at her dress. And on the winds, there was a whisper. She whipped around to the noise on reflex, clutching her lantern toward her chest. The voice was calling out from afar. She understood little wisps of words as it grew louder, and it gradually pushed forward. Until-

“My, what a pretty thing you are,” it whispered against the shell of her ear.

She stifled a cry. Her eyes darted back but found no one was there. Her hand clamped over her ear she could have sworn she felt a hot breath against her ear. She was sure of it.

She knew she had to flee. Her head reasoned to look harder and then get out. She began picking up pace and walking backwards, yet another jolt of panic ran through her. The forest floor was layered in dips and curves of overgrown roots and her foot had caught against one. Her arm swung out, and the lantern slipped from her fingers.

When it smashed into shards a few feet away, another breeze swept along. It was only made strong enough to snuff out the flame, which licked the oil among the broken glass. Then it was gone.

Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out and caught her mid-air. The grip was firm and held her weight with more than enough ease to pull her in. The maiden looked on.

There holding her hand was a radiant young man. A smirk pulled at his mouth crookedly, and the gold in his eyes was strikingly crisp and gleamed in the darkness. She noticed his pupils were slit as they looked like her lost friend’s. His hair was pushed back, and she found the shape of his face was more handsome than anyone she’d seen in town—even his pointed ears were charming

“Well well, look what I found.” He said, breaking the silence. His hold on hers softened but he did not let go. “What are you doing out this far in the woods, little dove? Been some time since a human’s come this way.”

She did not respond at first, did not move her stare from his brilliant looks. For a moment, she could not remember what she was meant to be doing.

This struck a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, what’s that look for? You still with me?” He teased. He reached for her cheek with his other hand and leaned forward to inspect her features for any sign of liveliness. “I was hoping you hadn’t lost your head—Little do-o-o-o-ove?”

His sing-songy voice brought a spark of recognition back into her gaze, and a heavy blush bloomed over the bridge of her nose. This wasn’t like her, she’d never done such a thing before.

“Ah, there she is!” He said in praise, swiping his thumb across her cheekbone. She was certain he could feel the heat. “Heh, careful now. I wouldn’t lose myself out here if I were you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she managed just before shaking her head in shame. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, but I do.” He returned matter-of-factly. “You’re not the first to fall for this devilishly charming fae you see before you.”

Fae. Human. He tossed the words around so casually one would think he spoke sincerely. She stared for a moment with a tilt of her head.

“And by fae you mean...?”

“What, you don’t know?”

She paused.

As if on cue, her curious eyes fell behind his rather handsome and princely black tunic, finding an incredible display attached to his back. And oh, did they show what he was. They took the shape of black feathered wings but they certainly weren’t. Those glossy wings were transparent like a dragonfly, and in the veins of each side they glimmered a bloody red. The lines fanned out in perfect detail, each one resembling a feather of a bird.

“You’re…! You really exist,” She gaped, shifting her wide eyes back to his gold ones.

The faerie smiled back, knowing full well where her gaze had fallen. It was almost as though he’d seen this before, actually. There was something a little too cocky behind that pretty mouth, and she wasn’t liking his satisfied smile very much.

The faerie then stepped back in proper form, and she watched him dip low in an elegant bow, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She tried not to think of the second rise of heat on her nose.

“They call me Hawks, my dear.” The fae greeted officially, but the maiden did not like his response.

“They being whom?”

Hawks glanced up. “Pardon?”

“They being whom?”

“You must have guessed there's more than just me.”

“I have.”

“Then why do you ask?” Hawks wondered, his eyebrow quirked.

“Well...if the rumors of you existing are true, then it’s right to assume all the others are true, right? Are “they” the good kind that leave lilies in your hair, or are “they” the kind that steal your left shoe?”

Or were they kind that snatched infants from their cribs, or lost travelers in the night? But she dared not ask that part.

They stared at one another, though Hawks stared in a way that sized her up. The impish gleam in his golden eyes was snuffed, and the curve of his smile faded. It was as though she’d said something wrong—yet it was hard to tell.

She opened her mouth to explain but that’s when the wind gently pushed at her hair.

“Pretty thing, pretty thing.”

Her hand tensed under his leather fingers, fixing a frightened look toward the returning whispers. This time though, she was not the only one who heard this. Hawks straightened his winged back, and turned to the direction of the voice.

“Well shit. Looks like these bastards caught your scent.” Hawks said with an ungracious tone. “Leave it to the Unseelie to spoil everything…”

She stared at the back of Hawks’ head incredulously. Did she hear him correctly? They could smell her? The Unseelie were the malevolent fae she’d heard about before.They were the Goblins who stole human faces; the Pale Men who ate children and left nothing but their shoes. And now, they were the fae who call to you with an echo on the wind.

“Not again.” She muttered, a distressed anger snapped inside.

Hawks looked back alarmed, having felt the loss of warmth in his hand. Lifting his chin, he watched as her beautifully framed figure stalked off, moving deeper into the tree’s shadows.

“Hold on, wait!” Hawks called out, extending an outstretched hand. The maiden was heading towards dangerous grounds, ones which were outside his claimed boundaries and near the Unseelie even Hawks found to be tasteless.

“No, no, no, no!” She repeated as she hurried away on shaking legs, “I’ve dealt with enough faeries on this adventure, thank you! I came here for my cat, not to mingle with smelling fae.”

“Your cat?” Hawks asked.

“Yes, my cat!” She said, turning herself to face him. “He slipped out earlier and made a run for it out here!”

Her eyes were able to study his sharply dressed figure in black, all of him lit by a red glow coming from the veins inside his wings. For a moment, she thought how out of place his attire was in the Dark Forest.

“Is that right?” He mused, letting those gold eyes fall to the ground. They were pinned on something, but she couldn’t see from her spot. “And just out of curiosity; how do you plan to find him in the dark?”

His boot kicked at a remnant of the lantern, she heard the glass crunch under his foot. When Hawks lifted his gaze, his expression was unreadable.

“Look, we don’t have too much time.The Unseelie won’t harm your pet, but a human like you? I can assure you, they won’t keep you a pretty corpse if they snatch you up.“

His black and red wings began to flutter to a rapid speed until they were an illuminating blurr. They lifted him from the ground effortlessly, and he flew through the dark with a graceful air around him.

“If you come with me and wait for the Unseelie to pass, we’ll look for your cat then, alright?” Hawks landed softly before her, offering a stretched arm and open palm for her to take.

She hesitated, looking him over for any sign that read foul play. He was one of the fae after all, and his kind gesture was given so suddenly. “You’ll look for him, with me? I...Why-why would you want to help me?”

Hawks liked holding her hand. He didn’t wait for her reach and grasped hers, hanging at her side.The soothing leather rubbed against her skin as he laced their fingers. His gaze was fixed on the curves of their hold, the flash of her wrist. A smile softened his face.

“Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you all to myself in the big bad woods,” Hawks confessed before flicking his catlike eyes up. “Hey. It’ll be alright, dove. Let’s find you someplace, safe.”

***

Hawks eventually dropped the back of her knees, while settling her back down on the ground. He’s the first to move, and he walked with purpose towards a particular tree.

She however, was occupied with the fog that rolled in this part of the forest. It was colder here, the trees were larger—and she’s unsure how to explain, but the blackened bark on these trees was more ominous than the ones she’d passed on her own.

“Hawks,” she tentatively called, crossing her arms over her chest, “Where is this place?”

Hawks kept facing the tree. He was intently regarding the natural grooves of the bark, cupping his chin in thought.

“My neck of the woods! Thought it’d be safer to mask your scent with mine.” He mused. There was another pause before he saw it, and the tips of his fingers pushed on the bark pattern to his right—the wood cracked.

Hawks turned towards the maiden. He noticed her expression slowly shine as the door opened, leading to a spiral staircase inside. He beckoned her forward with a reach toward her figure. She didn’t hesitate to walk forward and take his hand.

It took a moment to reach the top of the staircase, but beyond those steps was a hollowed out room. Rich leaves with layered vines melded atop the ceiling, and a few human items were placed around. Among them included a velvet armchair in the corner, with thick blankets neatly folded on the cushion.

Hawks gestured toward the chair, dropping the maiden’s hand. He then tipped his head back as he waved an arm above.

The canopy that made up the ceiling had started trembling, the vines falling loose and gradually stopping. Then they blinked, like they had eyes of their own. And each one ignited with a dim lit glow like a firefly across the evening sky, giving the room a soft warmth it hadn’t before.

“That’s beautiful.”

Hawks dropped his head in surprise. She had stopped moving halfway across the room, with attentive eyes on him. He could see a sheen of wonder on her lovely features, a trace of a smile on her lips. Hawks smiled back.

Good, she was winding down.

“You should see the vines further in! Now, those would really take your breath away.”

“You own more than this place?”

“My neck of the woods, remember?”

Hawks took to playing with his leather gloves, pulling on the fingers to slip off, “So this cat of yours must be quite something. I’ll admit, I’m not all interested in human pets, but I find it curious you’d risk being kidnapped for one.”

The small glow from the vines had revealed a patchy, web of plants around the chair, violet lilies had bloomed every which way. A few more even sprung up from the cushion as she lifted the blankets.

Maybe sitting on the floor would be preferable...

“He was my father’s cat,” she said. She moved to set the blankets down, but Hawks had come beside her, graciously collecting them from her arms. He turned, aiming to put them on the wooden desk—(which was clearly made by human hands.) “He’s the last member of my family, and honestly, that’s more than enough for a reason. ‘Least for me, anyway.”

“So you’re alone?”

She paused. She did not expect such a blunt response, nor did she expect Hawks glancing over his shoulder, curious, would leave her throat tightening.

She quickly turned, pretending to find the black dahlia's on the wall more fascinating, “Yes. It’s been that way since last autumn. My mother died when I was a kid, and my father was killed in a hunting accident. Now, it’s just me.”

“Just you, huh? No males waiting in the wings to ask for your hand in...whatever?” Hawks made it sound like it was absurd. Maybe it was.

She huffed a laugh, smiling at a dahlia, “I don’t think so.”

She was of lowly status with a deceased father who never offered an engagement. He hadn’t flaunted her youth and beauty at social gatherings, or in other towns for that matter. There simply wasn’t time for those affairs when hard labor was required to keep from starving.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fortunate.”

Hawks’ hands slipped around her hips and firmly turned her. She wasn’t used to being touched, not like this. Her skin prickled under his bare fingers, and a familiar heat burned the curves of her cheeks. They were face to face, and a breath closer.

“Did you know I almost let you slip by? It’s not uncommon for humans to venture this far in. Figured you’d turn back around once you couldn’t find who you were calling for, but of course, heh, you fell.” At those words, his thumb began stroking small circles against her hip. Each stroke across the bone jolted down her body, “But when I caught you, I saw it. Saw how scared you were. And I knew...you didn’t want to be alone.”

“Well, yes. I wish I was never alone,” she confessed softly. She slowly began pressing against his hand, just a little, “but that’s something everyone wishes for, isn’t it?”

Hawks smiled at her. Though it did not crinkle the corner of his sharp eyes. “Suppose you’re not wrong there. So why not have someone change that? Why not fill the void? Isn’t that something you’d want?”

With light pressure Hawks steered her backwards, easing her against the stretch of vines across the wall. He didn’t break his stare.

But she could only stare back for so long, dropping her gaze under the intensity in his golden eyes. Delicately, she managed a small voice and replied, “I don’t know.”

Hawks didn’t like this answer. He grasped under her jaw, firmly lifting those timid eyes back to his slightly lidded ones.

“Oh, no, no, I think you do,” Hawks countered. His voice was hushed, a husky and darkened tone,“You’re a maiden. Back home, you’re not allowed to want for things, right? Just sit there and look pretty, keep your mouth shut. Oh but, little dove, here? All you have to do...is give in. Fill that loneliness with your desires.”

She fell still, slowly exhaling through her parted mouth as he tilted his jaw, lingering near her lips. She breathed in his deep herbal scent, and a feeling gathered in her which blurred her thoughts with a subtle ache.

Hawks waited for her motionless to pass, as though he knew what she didn’t. He relished in her flushed features, and he smiled satisfied when her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, and Hawks claimed her lips.

There she goes.

He kissed her in a way that slipped his tongue past her lips, exploring her warmth and digging his fingers in her jawline, controlling. She was forced to stay still, breathing in when he’d part, only to be crushed into his lips once more.

Her head was spinning, so she didn’t notice a pair of thick coils slowly creeping down the wall and slinking around her wrists. Not until a tightening on her skin, and a sudden wrench on her arms, had ripped her from Hawks’ mouth. The lively vines from above yanked her forward, and Hawks stepped back.

While she tried digging her heels in the moss to stop their pulling, the vines only wrenched her wrists back harder. She stumbled into the center of the room. Then they braided into one, hoisting her arms up together, her feet partly touching the ground.

“Hawks!” She called, tugging back on the vines, “What is this? Why are you—“

“—Like I said before, we need to mask your scent,” Hawks said as he strolled nonchalantly from the wall. He brushed his hand across her waist and circled round to stand behind, “And there’s really only one way for my scent to stay on you.”

She tried glancing around, but she couldn’t crane her neck that far, not where she could see him properly. Hawks paused for a moment, and seemingly was fiddling with something near his wings. He was quiet, which only made her tense. She listened for some indication of what he was doing, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, a loud tear of fabric filled the room. Her dress loosened at the shoulders, and cool air brushed her mid-back. Her mouth gaped in a muted gasp. She could only listen as the tear ripped again, and again, with more skin exposed downward.

“You—You can’t expect me to walk out there without a dress!” She countered shakily. She tried biting back the shame bubbling in her throat.

“Oh, certainly not. What kind of fae do you take me for?” He asked, still tearing up her long sleeves. She looked back again, this time she had noticed a red object in his curled grip, gleaming and fairly plush.

A feather?

“I’ll have you wear something better than these rags.”

It took little time before pieces of cloth littered the floor, allowing her simple dress to fall in a puddle around her feet, at last. But Hawks wasn’t done. He knelt softly in the navy fabric, lifting her ankles one after the other, sliding off her worn shoes. They gave a light thunk when he tossed them near the armchair.

Amidst his working hands, the maiden struggled with her feelings. A part of her wanted the crawling binds to let her go, have her drop so she may cover her breasts. She also wanted to kick Hawks for shredding her damn dress into nothing. Better clothes or not, the dress was still hers. But ultimately what curbed her resistance towards Hawks was the guilty pang she felt for doubting him. He was there to protect her; to keep the Unseelie from finding her. And in part, it helped that his light touch pricked at her lower muscles. It kept her wishing for that feeling on the skin again...If only it weren’t so embarrassing.

“Are you scared?” Hawks asked.

The vines must have turned her at one point, for Hawks was kneeling in front of her and peering up with a gentle hand on her outer thigh. The hand with the blood coloured feather uncurled, and the very feather slipped through his fingers like it was alive. It soared up and behind him to blend against his black wings. Then suddenly, it was just another vein.

“I uhm…” She tried managing a calmer tone, but it remained shaken, “I don’t know what to...”

“I know, dove. Trust me, I know,” he soothed, running a hand up and down her thigh in assurance, “Won’t alway be like that, though, not after we’ve done this a few times.”

There wasn’t much time to fixate on what he meant, as two fingers hooked under her last garment and pulled it down her leg to the floor.

Now there was nothing in his way.

Hawks leaned in to press his lips along her inner thigh, trailing up slowly, gently. As he neared the curve of her sex, he hiked the back of her thigh on his shoulder, then her other one followed. Those sneaky binds were clever, really. They always knew when to hoist her higher, and they comfortably propped her in this new position.

“Hawks, hold on, hold on,” she pleaded. It was moving too fast—the sudden shift from the ground left her startled.

Hawks didn’t listen.

His predatory eyes flicked up to find hers watching, her beautiful eyes wide as a doe’s. This made him smirk, though in a way she hadn’t seen before, “Maidens always scream, but I wonder what you’ll say?”

With those words, Hawks tongue delved between her sensitive slit—and she tossed her head back. She was breathing in sharply. Her hips impulsively stuttered toward his mouth as his tongue stroked long and deep along her sensitive spot, but it didn’t compare to when he intentionally flicked against a bundle of nerves.

Oh my god. Oh fu —She tensed, her back arching into the touch. It was a hot pleasure that wildly pulsed inside her, something intense she never felt ‘till then. She had roamed a hand between her legs before in her quiet home, always alone, always rushed. This? This paled, it had never been this much.

Hawks was clearly in tune to her body's spasms. She writhed against his open mouth, while he was pressing and swirling his tongue on the bundle in concentration, his hands slinked up to hold her hips closer. He was set on one thing, his pace was building faster to it. And oh, it rewarded him so handsomely—a rush of excitement struck down to his groin from the sound. Her cries, her moans, her unwinding pitched voice; she was becoming his with every breath.

“Haw-Haw-aks,” it kept breaking from her lips with harsh gasps; her head hung back towards the canopy with glossy eyes. Oh god, she wanted to thread her fingers in his gold locks and press him further in her sex—Yes, fuck, right there, his mouth feels so good. Her shame be damned, all she wanted was for him to keep going.

An unseen smile curled slightly on Hawks’ lips.

“That’s it, little dove,” he coaxed softly between laps, “Just let my name slip out...just like that.”

He returned to latch on her clit. He sucked in hard with a wet noise, and a loud sob wrenched from her lungs. There was so much vigor, he didn’t cease, her winding pleasure rose higher, tenser, with her shaky thighs clamping tight on each side of his head.

“ Ha-Hawks, keep going, oh, keep going, fuck, keep—“ The spasms ripped through her with another sob breaking from her mouth. Her muscle walls clenched violently. She fell into a sense of ecstasy and her orgasm released.

Bleeding hell...She could not believe how wonderful she felt. She was so light in the head.

Hawks lapped along her folds as she rode out the last wave of her climax. He took certain care to run his mouth over her slit, which seeped with glistened come. As he finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckle.

“Well, what’s this? Where did my shy maiden go?” He teased, looking up toward her with a playful grin, “You were making the sweetest sounds up there.”

She made an expression which had Hawks chuckling. She really was a pretty girl, with such pretty timid eyes.

Hawks eased her legs off his shoulders, setting her down so she could step on the wood. It was a little hard though, as her tiptoes wobbled about until the vines dropped her lower. After, Hawks pushed up to stand. He pressed his body against hers and he sealed her lips with his. It was short, but she noted her own taste on his tongue before he parted.

“You did good, dove. Heh, ready for me now? It’s my turn.”

He then turned her. It wasn’t surprising Hawks was leading her along with little chance to respond, already brushing his lips across her neck. A hand cupped her breast and began squeezing, while his thumb rolled her nipple with tact, “Don’t worry, I’ll make this feel good...So damn good.”

He might even break her.

“But doesn’t this hurt?” She asked breathlessly. She felt naive, but that’s what the married women in town said. There was pain, and it ended with blood.

Hawk gave a reply she did not expect. His mouth which trailed gently down the curve of her neck, sucked hard into her smooth skin. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and her lips opened.

“You feel that? It hurt a little, didn’t it?” He whispered against her ear, “Can’t promise it won't hurt, but I can at least promise my cock will leave you twitching. You’ll be moaning, and when you come again, it’ll be when I’m deep inside you.”

She felt something thick rub between her legs, just then. The hand that toyed with her breast started roaming downward to pull back her hips. His other hand had been working on his belt prior, taking himself in hand with mild strokes.

The lazy work on himself was fine. This wasn’t about him, well—for now, at least. He’d focus on his needs once the intended plan was carried out. But until then, keeping her aroused was Hawks’ priority.

“Just relax...tilt your hips a little more,” he instructed, all while slicking the head of his cock like he’d done for his length. Once ready, he began lining himself toward her entrance, “Yes, that’s right, little dove. Precisely like that.”

She braced her arms against the vines with fingers curled in a tight grip, all while trying to relax her body like Hawks had said. But it was difficult to persist as Hawks advanced, and he slid his swollen cock inside her. A gasp slipped from her lips, her spine curved. He was thick. And as if he were forging through, she felt him strike his hips in shallow thrusts through her wet entrance, sink deeper in her stretching, and pulsing walls.

It hurt, but a familiar ache spread.

“You’ll enjoy it more if you relax.” Hawks' voice rasped thickly. He placed a hand on her lower back, gently rubbing at her spine. His length was still buried, feeling her clench--Ah, fuck. She was damn tight. He wanted to plunge forward, pound her with no mercy. It even took a good deal of restraint to hold still. “Don’t be afraid, I got you...Just let go.”

She can only nod in reply. It was going to be alright; she had to remember that. She exhaled a deep breath and tentatively eased under Hawks palm, eyes fluttering shut. She was ready, and his hands firmly settled on her sides. He then leaned back just so he could thrust forward, setting the pace with long, deep pumps.

She ached. Every thrust left her sore, but the ache was subtly there, building with Hawks momentum. The snap of his hips threw her body back and forth, shaking to his rhythm, his heavy pants in her ear. A shudder rushed down her spine, hearing his lust so crisply behind. Her lips parted to breathe, and her moans spilled out.

“Hnng—Yesss, let me hear you. Fuck, you take my cock so deep,” he growled lowly.

Hawks thrusts were sounding wet as his pounding in her skin quickened unsteadily. He’d admit, this was reckless for a virgin maiden, but he wouldn’t hadn’t planned on stopping now for her sake. Hawks was chasing his own orgasm, and as he mentioned before; this was his turn.

In that moment, she was thankful her arms were strung up, for it was her only support against his unyielding smacks inside her. But the rhythm changed, as Hawks jerked her hips back into an arched angle. Another cry spilled from her lungs.

Christ, why did it feel so fucking good?! When Hawks snapped hard, his length struck an intense patch in her inner walls, and a beautifully sweet mixture of pain and pleasure shook in her core.

Hawks felt her violent twitch, which only excited the fae.

“You like that, sweet dove? It feels like you fucking do! Let me hear you scream!”

She did in fact, cry out.

All her senses fell to the pleasure, the euphoria, the sweet pain of each thrash. And he pounds—and he pounds, and he pounds. Until she felt something warm flood her insides, and another writhing, hot pleasure ignited her nerves in a violent crash.

Then there was only the sound of their heavy breaths. He stayed sheathed inside, all while blood had bloomed across the maiden’s thighs.

***

Just before the evening turned to dusk, Hawks had awoken from the makeshift bed he assembled from the folded blankets. At first, he only buried his cheek into the maiden’s loose hair, and drew his arms tightly around her bareback, just so she fit snug against his own bare chest. She was warm, so soft in his arms as she slept soundly.

Then came a gentle breeze that wisped at his forehead, brushing at his thick pieces of hair.

Swirling on those winds echoed a voice.

“Little dove.”

This only warranted a deep growl, though Hawks hadn’t made an effort to move from his maiden’s warmth.

“Cut that shit out, I haven’t told her yet,” he mumbled with an edge in his tone. He refused to crack open his eyes, and craving sleep more than anything he dismissed the voice abruptly.

The room fell silent.

It obeyed him, not the other way around.

“What’s said is said,” —Hawks adjusted his body, gently rubbing his face on her head, “You wish to never be alone, well, wish granted. You’re mine now little dove...Mine, forever.”

There’s no reply from his maiden, whose gentle breathing was doing a lovely job of lulling Hawks deeper into the pull of sleep. She wouldn’t like it, oh he knew she wouldn’t. But she’d learn to. And she’d learn her efforts of finding her missing cat were all in vain. After all, the cat never made it far into the forest. He scared off that pathetic thing, but he watched the maiden wander.

What’s said is said, and there’s nothing she could do to change it.

***

@pleasantanathema @present-mel @enjifuckersupreme @redflannel

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