#tmeier

Working for the Devils as media manager has been y/n’s dream job since she was sixteen, lying in her bed back home in Czechia, while she was in high school, studying sport management.

Her dream came true when she was twenty-three, freshly graduated from university, when an email arrived in her inbox saying she had been accepted for the position of photographer for the Devils.

Now, six years later, she worked herself up to the post she always wanted. A media manager of the team. She is well known among the players. Mostly as the person who saves their asses if they fuck up publicly, or the person who does arrange everything that goes out to the news.

But when someone asks if she is a nice person, or how she acts or talks, they always stop because they realize that they never really heard her talk to them directly, or ever.  

That’s just who she is. Y/n isn’t a shy person. She just doesn’t waste her breath on something that isn’t important or on someone she doesn’t trust, because English is not her first language, and she just doesn’t want to embarrass herself.

But today, a few of the people in the department called in sick, so she has to take their work. One of those people was Erin, who was the media girl who did most of the content with the players.

That’s why she is going down to the rink, where the practice is about to happen in ten minutes. She has to make a few videos with them and then a few interviews for the upcoming few days.

The guys are surprised when they see y/n behind the camera as they make their way from the locker room. She is looking down at the papers in her hands when she notices Jesper, who stops in front of the huge banner that holds the question of the day.

“Who would you let babysit your kids?” he reads out loud, his eyes drifting up to y/n, and a surprised look crosses his features. “Oh, hi, y/n.” he smiles at her. “Haven't seen you in ages.”

Y/n smiles back softly. “Yeah, you guys keep me busy,” she explains, the smile disappearing from her face as quickly as it came. Some people would find this behaviour of hers rude, but Jesper now better that to assume that.

He visited Czechia multiple times, and he knows how Czech people are, so he’s not offended by her cold expression. After all, he knows that Slavic people are like that.

“I can imagine,” he grins at her, then looks back at the question. “And my answer will be Hughes’.” With that, he waves y/n goodbye and leaves for the ice.

The boys start slowly, one by one, rolling from the locker room, laughing and answering the questions, but mostly being surprised to see y/n behind the camera instead of Erin.

The last two who walk out are Nico and Timo. They are deep in their conversation about something when they notice the banner, and then y/n, who is already looking at them. Timo stays frozen in his spot, his eyes taking y/n in. He hasn’t seen her since she got promoted, which was almost two years ago now, and let’s just say… she is gorgeous.

“Y/n,” Nico grins cheerfully, walking towards her to give her a quick hug, which she did not expect, but does return it. “I haven’t seen you for so long,” he breaths out in disbelief.

“Work’s been busy,” she says quietly, her voice thick with her accent, which sends a shiver down Timo’s spine. Her voice is deeper than it was two years ago, but still melodic and so good for his ears.

Y/n notices Timo’s eyes on her, so she shoots him a Why are you staring? look. Timo smiles to himself. Fierce.

“Good to see you, y/n.” Her name rolls off his tongue so smoothly, as if he were meant to say it every day. Y/n swallows, trying to suppress the feeling in her core.

 “You too, Timo,” she answers softly. She doesn’t want her accent to get as thick as it usually is, even though she knows those two would never judge her.

Before either of them can say something more, Coach Keefe interrupts them, as he calls for Nico and Timo.

“Go,” y/n waves them off. “They need you.”

“Have a nice day, y/n,” Nico smiles as he passes Timo, who is still staring at y/n. “And my answer is Jack.” he nods his head to the question. His eyes then land on Timo. A smirk finds its way on his lips when he notices the look on his face. His best friend is smitten with y/n.

“You coming, Liebesbueb?” Nico says with a teasing smile, which gets only bigger when Timo glares at him.

“My answer is Luke,” he says when his eyes shift back to y/n.

Y/n chuckles at the answer, because she wouldn’t let her kid near both Hughes. “Thank you. Have a nice practice. I will be somewhere around taking pictures.”

A week goes by, and all Timo can think about is y/n and her voice. He doesn’t even know why he thinks about her voice. It’s not like he has never heard her, but he hasn’t heard her voice for almost two years, and he missed the deep sound of her accent.

Timo always had a thing for y/n, but he was good at hiding his feelings. When he was finally brave enough to tell her how he felt, she got promoted, and Erin took her spot as media girl, and y/n got busy with all the work, she stopped attending practices or even games.

So seeing her down at the rink, behind the camera, looking beautiful as he remembered, he felt like things had never changed. But they did. On Friday, Erin returned, fully rested, and y/n got back to her office on the highest floor of Prudential.

“What’s up with you, T?” Nico’s gruffy voice interrupts Timo’s thoughts as he looks up from the puck he has on his stick. His eyes meet Nico’s brown ones, and he lets out a deep sigh when he realizes that Nico knows exactly what’s going on. “It’s about y/n, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” Timo asks, looking around them to make sure no one is listening. His eyes focus back on Nico, who has a soft smile playing on his lips.  

“I have known you for a long time, Timo. I can tell when you like someone. And I know you liked y/n for a while now, so it is quite obvious to me what is happening.” Nico explains, shuffling his skates on the ice.

Timo hangs his head low between his shoulders. His eyes flutter close as he takes in a deep breath to sort out his thoughts.

“I…I haven’t heard her voice in over two years, and even when she still worked with us, she hadn’t spoken much,” he admits, knowing that Nico will understand what he wanted to say by that.

“Well, I hope you have time after practice, because a little birdie told me that y/n is in her office today.” he grins at Timo before he skates away, leaving him standing there alone with his thoughts.

The rest of the practice ran quickly for Timo since his mind was on y/n and the need to hear her voice again, and again. As soon as Coach Keefe releases them, Timo is the first one to leave the ice and eventually even the locker room, after he takes a shower.

After he drops his things in his car, he makes his way back to the rock, and to the elevator, to make it up to the highest floor, where all the offices and departments are.

The elevator dings, signalling that he has reached the floor. His strides are confident as he makes his way towards y/n’s office, which he should not know where it is, but embarrassingly, he did make his way here a couple of times during the two years to speak with her, but every time, he turned around and left before he even knocked.

But this time, his knuckles meet the wooden door, leading to y/n’s office.

“Come in!” y/n shouts, yet her eyes stay focused on the iPad in front of her, where she reads through the interviews Erin sent her this morning. She doesn’t notice Timo stepping inside, so she just points at the chair in front of her desk, as she says, “Have a seat, I'll be with you in a second.”

A smirk tugs at Timo’s lips when her voice reaches his ears. He sits down in the chair and says, “Why not be mine right now, y/n?” It is a bold thing to say to her, so when he notices her freeze, he regrets it.

Y/n’s heart flutters in her chest when she hears Timo’s voice. Her eyes slowly meet his wide ones. “Timo,” she breathes out, as confusion takes over her, because… why is he in her office? “W-what are you doing here?” she chokes out, sliding her iPad away to focus on the handsome man in front of her.

Cocking his head to one side, he takes a brief moment to answer, and to think if he should risk everything. His mind goes to the times he would stand in front of those doors, trying to find the courage to knock. Or to the times, where y/n still worked as a media girl, and was with the m almost every day. And he knows that it’s now or never. “I needed to see you and hear your voice,” he says, his voice raspy and low with all the emotions he is feeling.

Y/n’s breath hitches, and her heart flutters at his words. “W-what?” she chokes out, emotions flooding through her body.

“You heard me, y/n,” Timo answers more confidently now, since he noticed the change in y/n’s posture and eyes. “I came here for you. I waited long enough to make a move, so here I am making the first move.”

Y/n just stares at him. Her eyes are wide in shock because she never thought that the man sitting in front of her might have a thing for her. For almost four years, she thought that she was stupid for having feelings for Timo, but it turns out that he was stupid, too.

“Are you serious?” y/n chokes out, her hands shaking with excitement and nervousness. As soon as Timo bobs his head, y/n springs to her feet, rounds the table and stops in front of his chair.

Timo stands up too, now hovering over y/n’s five-foot-something figure, his hands are itching to reach for her waist, and after seconds of thinking, he lets his hands do so.

“I have had the biggest crush on you for literally four years, y/n,” he admits, lowering his head down to whisper in her ear. “And I have been obsessed with your voice since the first time my name came out of your lips. I like you, y/n. so freaking much.”

He pulls away from her ear, but stays low, their only inches apart from how close they are. “I-I like you too, Timo. You have no idea how long and how much.”

And Timo doesn’t waste a second, his lips crash against y/n’s in a hard, yet slow and sensual kiss. His hands that were around her waist are now cupping her cheeks, as he tries to bring her lips even closer than it’s possible.

Y/n is standing on her tiptoes, trying to feel more of him, while her fingers clutch Timo’s shirt on his back, so she doesn’t fall. Not like Timo would let that happen.

When they pull apart after a few minutes, their breaths are heavy, quick and hot. Timo rests his forehead against hers, smile tugging at his swollen lips, because he finally has his woman in his arms.

“Be mine, y/n,” he whispers after a moment of silence. He expects y/n to freeze in her arms, so he is surprised when he feels her hands slide up his shoulders, until they are cupping his cheek as she presses her lips to his ear and whispers. “Only if you will be mine.”

A huge grin spreads across his lips. He doesn’t answer until his eyes meet y/n’s. “I always was.”

TAGLIST: @r0nnsblog, @buckystwilight

Still, the roof tops are fairly boring at this time of day, before the real weird Supers come out and long after any civilians are working up high.

Erik’s been on Timo recently about practicing, so Timo decides that’s as good a way as any to pass the time. He’s gotten better for sure, good enough to feel the conductive channels through the thick concrete, electrical wires and metal pipes. Erik claims that he wants Timo to be good enough to feel someone’s exact brainwaves, but that’s a bit of a reach.

He hasn’t told Kevin about that particular goal because he thinks it sounds deranged, but Kevin’s been very supportive of Timo practicing. Timo assumes that’s because he enjoys Timo’s growing control; it’s made rolling around in bed a good deal less hazardous for all of Kevin’s sensitive bits.

Timo frowns and texts Kevin again. There’s no answer. He texts the group chat, asking if anyone else has heard from Kevin.

His earbud crackles to life. Erik’s voice comes softly through as he directs, “Wait for Antti and Tomas. They’re in the area. Let them go in dressed normally and ask the front desk. Call Kevin and see if he answers. He probably just got caught up in work again.”

“Okay,” Timo acknowledges, hitting dial on his phone. It rings, but to no avail. The voicemail sound beeps in his ear and he falters. “Hey, babe, where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for about fifteen minutes. You’re worrying Tomas. It’s fine if you have to work late, just call me back and let me know.”

He hangs up and stares at the screen for a moment, watching minuscule rain drops fall on the glass. He calls again and gets sent to voicemail again.

He turns to his team. “Erik?”

Erik’s voice comes through his ear bud. “I switched your comm off while you were on the phone. Tomas and Antti are in the building, going up to Kevin’s floor. Simmer’s nearby somewhere. They were all grabbing dinner together before I called them in.”

“Tomas is with Kevin’s coworkers,” Antti says suddenly. “I’m on my way to the security office to see if there’s anything They might have seen.”

“Be careful,” Timo and Erik say together. Antti doesn’t audibly scoff, but Timo still winces. He hates when they treat him like he needs protection. He’s competent, Timo knows, but he was also their team rookie long before any of them had powers. It makes some things more complicated.

“They thought he went home,” Tomas says slowly, quietly. “His bag was still at his desk. I saw it.”

“Okay,” Erik says calmly, like Timo’s heart isn’t in his throat. “Sweep the bathrooms and then—“

“We have a problem,” Antti interrupts frantically. “I’ve got three security guards in the hall who are knocked out. One of them is bleeding from the back of his head.”

“Get out,” Erik says, voice hard. “Both of you out now.”

“Wait,” Antti says, “I’m already here. The office door is open.”

The rain is coming down harder now, dripping down the back of Timo’s uniform and chilling him as he crouches there on the roof. The uniform is waterproof, but his hands and head are exposed and getting increasingly cold. He feels cold inside too, fear stealing his breath away.

“There’s a lot of screens,” Antti says slowly. “I don’t know see how to rewind it, but there are a decent number of cameras spread throughout the building. A lot of them are in common areas, so if Kevin was in a bathroom we wouldn’t see him going in or anything probably?”

“Here,” Tomas’ voice breaks through. “Give me one minute.”

“I’m not giving you any fucking time,” Erik repeats. “Get out.”

There’s silence and then quiet cursing through the comms. “It’s the Super from before,” Antti says. “We’re leaving, Erik, but the hallway to the security office had cameras and the Super hit the guards and didn’t even bother to hide any evidence. He just wanted them silent while he did whatever he was going to do.”

“He was in the elevator,” Tomas says. “Going down. Then they both disappear from the video.”

Timo hears Antti arguing with Tomas distantly, something about the guards and medical help.

Timo leaps off the roof, pushing up to get a better view. He waits to see if Tomas and Antti make it out, hovers there impatiently. There’s too much noise in the city to hear any individual, even with enhanced senses. He taps his fingers together to feel the electric sparks, over and over and over.

There’s a ripple in the darkness below and Erik’s voice rings in his ear sharply. “Timo, get down here.”

Timo lands, too hard, sees the concrete give way slightly under his feet. “What?”

“The others are on their way, but we’re getting started now. We have to search from the last known location and we have to be careful. We don’t want to spook whoever has him.”

Erik waits until Timo stops bouncing on his toes. “Tap into their electrical supply. See if you can find any areas that don’t seem to fit, maybe drawing too much power or too little.”

Timo looks around for a conductor and sees the utility box on the street. It’s as good a place as any to really dive into the city’s grid.

It’s not hard to reach into the city’s pulse, tracing the wiring outward strand by strand. It’s slow work, requiring focus. He’s not really seeing anything, not nearby at least.

“Anything?” Erik’s hand on his shoulder startles him. When he looks around, Antti and Tomas are outside, standing behind Erik.

“No, nothing.”

“Okay. Antti, was there anything on the external security cameras?”

“No, no, like I said, they went in the elevator and went down and then never came out. At least not somewhere with cameras.”

“Okay, so probably underground storage or parking or something. Simmer and I will check it out.”

“I’m coming with you,” Timo blurts out, gripping Erik’s arm too tight. Erik stares at him, too long, and then sweeps him into the shadows.

The dizzying feeling never gets better, but Timo’s used to it. He knows to breathe slowly when they walk out the other side, steps echoing on some basement area paved with stark concrete. There’s no one around, but they’re still trying to be quiet. Simmer slowly comes into view, just behind Erik’s shoulder.

“Well,” Erik says very tightly, “not much guesswork here.”

Timo follows his pointing finger to see the three muddy footprints leading to a slight fold in the concrete wall. “Shit.”

“I’ll go,” Simmer says abruptly. “I’ll see where they went.”

“What?” Erik and Timo speak as one.

“I can go through the wall. Not like that Super obviously, but I can feel my way through.” He places his hand on the wall and sinks it in. “I can tell where it’s been disturbed.”

“No,” Erik says, hand wrapping around Simmer’s free wrist swiftly. “It’s too dangerous. You won’t be able to breathe.” And Timo’s heart stops because that means Kevin wouldn’t be able to breathe either.

“Most walls are a foot. I can find the way. We just need a direction and then we can go.”

“Please,” Timo begs, voice hitched with unshed tears. He doesn’t know which one he’s begging.

“Take Timo back. Meet me on the other side of the wall.”

Erik closes his eyes for a moment, squeezing Simmer’s wrist. “Okay.” He shakes his head. “But one wall at a time and you back out if you can’t feel the other side.”

“Go,” Simmer says, twisting his wrist free, eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Timo can see him squaring his shoulders and he knows what this is costing Simmer, understands the risks he’s taking.

Stepping on the ice, the only thing you can hear is your teammates yelling and the sound of skates gliding through the ice. You focus on the puck that is now on one of your teammates' sticks, as you skate forward so she can pass you.

The puck lands on your stick as you skate towards the net. There is no one except for you, the goalie and one of your teammates. You keep your eyes locked on the goalie as you make a hard slapshot, the puck landing behind the goalie inside the net.

A loud horn sounds through the arena, as you skate behind the net, a wide smile on your lips as you skate to your teammates to celebrate with them.

Seconds later, you are enveloped in a group hug, the girls patting your head as they shout in celebration. Skating towards the bench, you fist-bump the girls, making your way to your goalie, who waits in her net for you.

“Good job, babe!” Emma yells as you pass by her, a grin playing on her lips.

“You too, girl!” you shout back, skating backwards until you bump into your teammate. “Sorry,” you chuckle, turning around.

“All good, champ,” Ginny grins back at you, as you make your way to the faceoff.

The next few seconds happen fast. Ginny wins the face-off, the puck landing on your stick as you skate to the offensive zone. One second, you’re searching for your teammates, the second one, someone is colliding with you, and your body is flying to the borders, your shoulder hitting the borders with such a force that you can hear a crack.

As soon as you fall on the ice, your left hand goes to your right shoulder, and a cry leaves your lips. You can hear the referee blow the whistle as your teammates gather around you, shouting for a doctor, when they see your face that is screwed in pain.

Your team doctor runs up to you, a towel in his hands, as he drops to his knees next to you. “Is it your shoulder, y/n?” he asks, his voice steady.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper shakily, tears running down your cheeks as you still clutch your broken shoulder. “I-I heard a crack.”

A sigh leaves his mouth as he looks around at your teammates before he speaks. “You need an X-ray. Let’s get you outta here.”

Timo saw the whole thing happen. He was sitting right behind the bench. His gaze focused on you the whole time. The impact was hard, quick and… unexpected. And when he saw that you weren’t getting up and the doctor was called up on the ice, he knew it was bad.

As soon as they got you out of the ice, he was off too. He made his way down to the arena's hospital. He knows the staff there. He himself was there multiple times, so it was no problem for him to get there.

That’s why he’s here, sitting right next to you while you wait for the X-ray results. Your hand is resting in his, as he caresses the top of your hand.

“Hey, whatever it is, we'll go through it together, okay?” Timo whispers in your ear, his voice calm and soft, yet it does nothing to make you feel better.

You know that this injury, if it’s as serious as you think, can end your season, and you can’t afford it. You must be there for your team, fuck, you have to be there for yourself.

Just the thought of not being on ice, not being able to play, makes you sick to your stomach. And when the doctor comes in with a scowl on his face, you know everything is fucked up.

A tear wells up in your eyes before he can even speak.

“Hello, y/n,” he mumbles under his nose as he slowly makes his way to the whiteboard on your left. “We got your X-rays back,” he says, putting the pictures on the whiteboard. Three to exact as you, and you watch him point to your clavicle. “There is a fracture in your clavicle bone. Not severe, so you won’t need surgery, but it will put you out for at least three months.”

You let out ragged breath, because by the look on his face, you know that it’s not the end.

“From the examination we did, after the X-rays, we found out you also have a tear on your labrum, which you will need surgery for, and the recovery is from four to six, maybe even…” You stop listening to him. You know that he is about to explain how the whole recovery would go for you, but all you can think about is that your season is over.

You leave the rink two hours later, after the doctor put your hand in a brace and explained to you how they will proceed with your recovery. The ride back home is silent, the air in the car heavy, as both of you are lost in your own thoughts.  

Stepping inside your apartment, you immediately make your way to your bedroom, lying down on your bed as you let the emotions get over you. You let the tears finally fall over the edge, loud sobs filling the room.

Your shoulder is still throbbing, even after the doctor gave you some pills, and your mind is full of thoughts about the team, fans, hockey, and just everything.

Timo watches from the doorframe, a scowl on his lips as your figure shakes from sobs. Slowly, he makes his way to you, sitting on the edge of the bed, as he places his hand on your calf, gently rubbing it to calm you down.

He knows that you don’t like too much touching when you are stressed and overwhelmed. “It’s going to be okay, y/n,” he says softly, and even though you know he means it well, you snap at him.

You shot up to sitting position, swatting his hand away as you say, “No, nothing's going to be okay. My season is over, my team counted on me, because finally, we were doing great. Our fans were counting on me, and so was I. I will need a fucking surgery, because the fucking bitch tore my fucking labrum, even though I don’t know what that is. So no, nothing is going to be fucking okay,” you shout out.

You notice the pained look on his face, but you ignore it. You know you snapped at him unreasonably, but your emotions are too high for you to care about it right now.

Before he can say something, you say, “Leave.” Your voice is harsh as you move your gaze from him, not wanting to look at his pained face. “I need to be alone,” you whisper this part as if it will make the situation somehow better.

Timo swallows his words, nodding his head in a silent understatement. You hear his soft footsteps before they stop as he turns around to speak. “If you need anything, just call,” and with those words, he really leaves.

You don’t let the sobs come out until you hear the front door shut. Then you yet again let the emotions take over you as you cry your eyes out until you fall asleep from exhaustion.

You haven’t moved from your spot in the bed since you got in last night, and your phone has been buzzing since the moment you woke up a few hours ago, with messages from your family, friends, and teammates.

But you ignore all of them, you are not in the mood to deal with everyone. Your head is pounding, your shoulder is still throbbing, and your stomach is growling in hunger.

When you finally decide to get out of bed, you are surprised by the smell of freshly done bacon, eggs and coffee. Your brows furrow in confusion as you quietly walk into the kitchen.

Timo is standing there, cup of coffee in his hands, his focus on the phone in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in a hoarse voice, as you look around the apartment, noticing the blanket on the couch, as if someone had slept there. “Did you sleep here all night?” You look at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, didn’t want to leave you alone,” he explains, handing you your cup of coffee. He notices your mouth opening, as if to say something, but he beats you. “I know you didn’t want me here, but I couldn’t leave you alone. Not when I know how you are when something fucks up.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the breakfast, but I want you to leave,” you say in a harsh tone. You know that Timo means it well, but right now, you feel like a failure, like your life is falling apart, and you don’t need his pity.

Timo cocks his head, mocking your harsh voice as he speaks. “Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere. I understand that pushing people away is how you deal with things, but you’re not alone in this. I’m your person, Y/n, so let me be there for you.”

When Timo notices the tears in your eyes, he puts down his coffee, pulling you in a tight hug. “You’re strong, woman, y/n. You will get through this. And the next season, you will be on the ice, kicking asses.”

“I love you, T,” you mumble in his chest, grateful that he stayed.