#but after this i have actual drive to play my other characters i swear!!!

[4giorno]

crying bc the final line of astarions dialogue the morning after killing cazador is "this is a gift you know. thank you - i wont forget it" which is like what he said after you first let him drink your blood

[writingonleaves]

i never could've seen you coming (i think you're everything i've wanted) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of death and cancer, a substantial amount of grief, so much fluff, medical school inaccuracies probably, angst if you squint, way too many mentions of all three hughes brothers..like an absurd amount (but it's part of the plot, i promise)

title: "the blue" by gracie abrams

word count: 19.7k (whoops!)

author's note: got WAY too carried away with this one lol so you may see more of this little au bc i really fell in love with it. this turned almost into a study on found family / siblinghood?? i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed writing it and creating this little world. takes place in the 2023-2024 season.

*****

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smarter to live closer to work and actually be in the city.  But when word got around — well, her mother telling her best friend — that Clementine was going to be even close to New Jersey, she had, in order, Luke, Quinn and Jack texting her within an hour of each other.

Lukey Hughes

Clemmy!! Congrats on the residency. Heard you’re gonna be across the river from jersey?? 👀

Quinny Hughes

Congrats on NYU! I’m happy you get to go back east even though I won’t get to see you as often. Don’t let Luke or Jack annoy you too much. Love and miss you! ❤️

Jacky Hughes

CLEMENTINE

you’re coming to new york????

you have to live with me please please please it’s not that far

and luke will probably be here next season and ik he’s your favorite 

When Clementine Sandoval found out she was placed at NYU Langone for her combined emergency room and pediatrics residency, she thought two things. Holy shit, she actually has made it this far. And holy shit, she’s excited to go back closer to home, after spending undergrad and med school in the west coast. She’s found a love for California, but nothing beats the east.

She called Jack for his birthday days after the Devils got knocked out of playoffs. She doesn’t get to talk to Jack and Luke — any of the Hughes brothers, really — as often as she’d like. She sees them even less, ever since she left for California and they moved away to Michigan from Toronto. She always tries to see Quinn and Jack whenever they come out to play at San Jose, but otherwise, that’s it. She hasn’t seen Luke since the Hughes family graciously invited her and her mom to Luke’s draft almost two years ago. So whenever she does get a chance to catch up with her childhood friends, it’s always a treat.

It took Jack — and Luke — exactly 34 minutes over the phone to convince her to move in with them. The largest part of the discussion was how much money she’d contribute for rent. She was adamant to split it three ways evenly. Jack shot that down immediately, and that resulted in a slight — read: intense — disagreement (“I don’t give a fuck that you’re making $8 million a year, Jack Rowden. I’m paying my part of the rent.”). He refused to back down, and they came to an amount that she was semi-happy with, though she insisted that she’d be in charge of buying groceries. Deep down, she knows he and Luke will fight her on that too. 

She finished out med school, went on a 10-day vacation to Europe with her friends and went back to her mom’s place in Massachusetts for a weekend, where she grabbed the key that Jack had shipped to her. Her mom helped her pack the car, and off she went to Hoboken, where she’d be living by herself in the extremely spacious apartment until Jack (and Luke) came back for pre-season in September. 

Residency started off without a hitch, Clementine loving the fact that she got to actually work with patients more. The commute to the hospital isn’t ideal — a 10 minute drive to the station before hopping on the train for almost 45 minutes — but after years of having to drive around everywhere for years, it doesn’t faze her much. It’s a time to decompress after a long shift and reflect or wake herself up for the long day ahead, and it gives her time to read or listen to music or podcasts on the train. Some of her fellow residents live nearby and are always gracious enough to let her crash on their couch after particularly grueling shifts. The first two months are peaceful if tiring, the apartment always being a welcomed silence when she walks in. 

Early September arrives, and she’s coming home after an overnight shift when she walks out of the elevator to the apartment. She thinks she might hear voices coming from inside her apartment, but they’re more likely in her exhausted brain, so she turns her key and pushes open the door. 

It takes her a moment while taking off her shoes to freeze. There are voices in the apartment. She carefully walks towards the voices, heart starting to race, before it immediately calms down and relief washes over her. 

“Jesus Christ! A warning would’ve been nice. I thought someone broke in.”

All three Hughes brothers turn their heads towards her, all looking a bit worse for wear probably due to the fact that it’s just past 7 am. Though it’s nothing Clementine hasn’t seen before. When your mothers are still really close after playing soccer together at UNH and both families happen to settle down in nearby towns in the suburbs of Toronto, you’ve all seen each other the morning after sleepovers. When you’re an only child and call these three your brothers, you’ve practically seen everything. They all blink at each other before someone — Jack — comes to their senses. 

“Clee!” Jack exclaims, sliding in his socks across the floor to pull her into a very tight hug. She feels gross and probably doesn’t smell much better, but she can’t bring herself to care as she hugs Jack, smile widening when she feels both Quinn and Luke putting their arms around her as she’s put in the middle of a group hug. They eventually let go, and then she hugs them all individually. 

She pouts, looking up at Luke. “This is so unfair. You’re so much taller than me now.”

Luke smirks, ruffling her hair. “Good to see you too, Clemmy.”

She beams up at him. “Happy birthday, by the way. Big 20!”

“Thank you.”

She yawns. “So what’s going on? I thought you two weren’t supposed to be back until next week.” She points at Quinn. “And what are you doing here?”

“Not happy to see us?” Quinn teases. 

“Always happy to see you guys. But I did just have an overnight shift and I need to be in bed within the next 20 minutes.”

“We know.” Jack says excitedly. “Did you not suspect anything when I was asking specific questions about your schedule for this week?”

She thinks back to the last time she FaceTimed Jack. He did seem awfully inquisitive. She shrugs. “I’m too old and tired to question your antics anymore, Jacky.”

“You’re only 26?”

“And you just turned 20. I’m old.” she says to Luke as he passes her a glass of water. “Quinny, aren’t you supposed to be in Vancouver soon?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m only here for the day to go to the US Open and celebrate Moose’s birthday. I’m on a flight out tomorrow at noon.”

She pouts, but her heart warms at the reminder that these three are still so close. “So soon.”

“Captain duties, am I right?” Jack says. 

It takes her a moment to realize what he just said before her jaw drops and she whips her head towards the eldest Hughes. “Are you serious?” Quinn just nods sheepishly. “Quinn!” She wraps him in another hug again. “That’s incredible. Oh my goodness. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Clem.”

She places her hands on his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you. Not surprising at all though. Do Ellen and Jim know? I bet they’re pumped.”

“Yeah, they do. It won’t get announced until Monday though.”

“That’s awesome. Holy shit, Quinn.” She looks at the younger two. “So are you guys back for good?”

“I am. Jack isn’t. He has to go to Vegas for media day the day after tomorrow.”

She blinks. “I’m confused. Then why the fuck are you all here? You could’ve just gone to Vegas early or something. Or not make the trip here and come back when you have to be back.”

“To see you, duh. I wanted to see you on my birthday, and it’ll be awhile until we’re all in the same place again.” Luke shrugs. Like it’s not a big deal. Like they didn’t just fly from wherever the fuck to Jersey for barely a day before two of them have to fly back across the country because they wanted to see her and be together. 

“God, I-just,” she yawns. “That’s so disgustingly sweet. And I love you three. I really do. But-”

“You need sleep, yeah. We figured. Well, good news for you, you’re not needed until later anyways!” Jack beams.

She blinks. “What’s later?”

“We’re heading to Aunt Lara’s to celebrate Luke’s birthday. Mostly an excuse for some of the family to gather one last time for the summer.” Jack says.

“Also to celebrate Quinn getting captain,” Luke adds with a small eye roll. 

“And I’m assuming I’m coming to that?”

Jack blinks like she’s being ridiculous. “Uh, duh. And I know you have a day off tomorrow, so you can’t use that as an excuse. Geegs wants to see you. Everyone wants to see you, to be honest. Mom’s making your favorite just for you.”

She lights up. “Her pumpkin pie?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be there,” she salutes to them as she stops at her bedroom archway. “Have fun watching tennis. I’ll see you when you get back?”

“Mmhmm. We’ll drive there together.”

“Brilliant,” she blows them all a kiss. “Goodnight. Or good morning. Whatever.” They all snicker as she goes into her bedroom, beelining for the shower. 

She emerges from her bedroom again at around 1:30 p.m., her stomach begging for food. She wipes the sleep away from her eyes as she heads towards the kitchen. She reaches for the coffee machine and pauses when she sees a sticky note on the handle of the pot. 

Left some pasta for you in the fridge. xoxo Quinn

She smiles, making herself a cup of coffee before opening the fridge and reheating the chicken alfredo pasta. She waits for the microwave to beep by checking her phone for the news and any unread messages (the only one being from Ellen, who’s thrilled that she’s coming by tonight.)

After eating, she realizes she should probably get something to bring tonight, and ventures a few blocks to a nearby florist. Fresh flowers can’t hurt, right? After she pays for the bouquet, she has a double take walking by the bakery she only treats herself to after an especially exhausting day. Luke has always been weak for chocolate chip cookies, and this bakery does them like no other. She grabs a box of a dozen.

Around an hour later, the front door opens again and Luke practically vibrates at the smell of the still-fresh cookies on the counter. All three of them dig in as she quickly changes, putting on a basic blue sundress and pulling out a sweater in case she gets cold. It feels like it’s been forever since she’s worn anything that isn’t scrubs. She spritzes some perfume on and ties on three very important friendship bracelets that have somehow not fallen apart even after almost a decade. 

As expected, when she walks out, Quinn’s the one who notices what’s on her wrist first. He grins, surprised. “I didn’t know you still had those.”

She shrugs, fiddling with the loose threads. “They were very important to me. They still are.”

Jack stops chewing and his eyes widen, finally realizing. “Holy shit, Clee. We made those for you, like..”

“Right before I left for college? Yeah.” She takes the last bit of a cookie out of Luke’s hand. He doesn’t even bat an eye. “I don’t wear them as often anymore because I don’t want the possibility of them getting ruined or losing them at the hospital or anything. You know I wore them when I opened my acceptance letter into Stanford, right? And I wore them under my shirt when I had my interview with NYU.” She thinks she sees Quinn’s eyes water. She definitely knows she sees Luke swallowing roughly as Jack stares at her with some sort of reverence in his eyes. But she also knows her boys and just shrugs, changing the subject to make them more comfortable again. “We leaving soon?”

“Yeah. Let me just take a piss,” Luke says as he walks towards the bathroom. 

“I call dibs after!” Quinn calls out. 

“What the fuck?” Jack exclaims. “I need to go really bad too.”

“Just go to the one in my room, Jack.” She says, rolling her eyes. He huffs, giving Quinn a glare before disappearing into her bedroom. She sits down in the chair that Jack had just been occupying. “God, I can’t believe I’m gonna be living with those two. Am I regressing?”

Quinn snorts, “Probably. How is residency, by the way?”

She sighs. “Good. Busy and tiring and really fucking hard, but that’s to be expected. I’m currently in the NICU, so it’s been interesting seeing all the babies and the reasons they’re in there for. They’re also just so fragile, which, obviously, but it’s been good. I really love it.”

Quinn hums thoughtfully. “That’s badass, honestly. But everything you do is badass in my eyes.”

“Well, it’s quite badass in my eyes that one of my dearest friends is the captain of the Vancouver Canucks at 23.”

She feels a bit of a thrill at the blush that so easily paints his cheeks. “Nothing compared to you saving lives.”

“Hey,” she warns. “None of that here. We don’t do that.”

He just nods, leaning in to kiss her temple gently. “I’m sad that I’m gonna be seeing you less now, but I’m so happy for you. Least I’ll worry less about Jack and Luke now that you’re here.”

“Oh please. You’ll always worry about them.”

He hums, not even giving an answer because they both know the truth. She wraps an arm around his waist, tucking herself into his side and even though he’s standing and she’s sitting, she feels the most comfort she’s felt in awhile. 

Nothing brings her peace like these three boys, who have always believed in her and loved her before she was anything. They could be shouting at each other and never let her get a word in and she would still feel right at home

Later that night, as she’s catching up with everyone and eating Ellen’s pumpkin pie, she’s reminded that this whole family has always brought her peace. Ellen has always said she’s like the daughter she always wanted and Jim has always been like a father to her, especially the last decade. Geegs treats her just like she treats all her grandchildren, fussing over her and insisting that she needs to eat more because “you must be so stressed all the time at the hospital, running around and saving lives.” Everyone important and close to them have always known that the Hughes brothers and Clementine are the kind of package deal that will always be strong, even if it spans countries. It’s the three boys and Clementine always.

As she watches everyone sing happy birthday to Luke, watching him tower over everybody, his face poorly lit with the candles, she places both her hands over her heart while he blows the candles and everyone cheers. 

This chapter of her life is already shaping up to be pretty damn good.

…..

She’s had October 12 circled in her calendar ever since Jack convinced her to move in. The day of the regular season home opener of the Devils. 

After her shift, she ducks into the staff bathroom and changes into leggings and a Devils jersey, Hughes and 86 on the back. Jack and Luke lost some sort of bet that had the latter pouting and the former in absolute glee. She had just rolled her eyes. She’d just wear her 43 jersey to the next game. 

As she’s clocking out, one of her fellow residents and probably the one she’s closest to, Emilia, just raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a hockey fan.”

Clementine shrugs, swiping her ID card through the reader. She never distinctly mentions her relations to America’s Hockey Family or whatever the hell the media calls them unless directly asked, but she’s sure she’s dropped some hints at happy hour, especially when asked why she’s living in Jersey. “Practically grew up with three of them. Osmosis, perhaps.”

Emilia must connect the dots because she offers a small smile. “My husband’s a big Rangers fan, so don’t tell him I said this, but Jack’s fun to watch. He’s shifty.” She laughs and bids her friend farewell, walking towards the elevator. 

Jack and Luke got her a seat in one of the boxes that’s reserved for family and significant others, the home opener bringing in a larger crowd than usual. She doesn’t know anyone, but that’s okay, because right when she walks into the box, a beautiful blonde strolls over and introduces herself with a big smile. You must be Clementine. I’m Ryleigh, she says, Dawson’s girlfriend. Jack told her to be on the lookout for her. 

She makes quick friends with Ryleigh as they grab a drink and situate themselves. The younger girl introduces Clementine to Kristen, her adorable boy Henrik and Barbora and her sweet girl Adelka. She kneels down to play with both kids, mindlessly answering questions about her life from the women. It’s refreshing getting to speak to people about things that aren’t solely residency or medical school related. 

God, she needs to get out more. 

The opening night celebrations are fun, and she cheers extra loudly when Jack and Luke’s names get called. Everyone’s on a high after a 4-3 win, and Clementine dutifully follows Ryleigh and everyone else out of the box and some tunnels that somehow lead towards the locker room. Her stomach is filled, thanks to the food and the drinks, and she’s happily buzzing. She’s excited to be able to hopefully watch more games now that she’s living here. 

Around 30 minutes later, both Jack and Dawson come out at the same time. She briefly watches as the couple embraces before Ryleigh turns to introduce Clementine, who smiles as Dawson wraps her in a friendly hug. She bids them both goodbye as they walk out.

“Clee! Did you see my goals?” Jack says after she hugs him, ruffling her hair. 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, adjusting his collar. “Of course I did. Saw the two penalties too. Good game, Jackson.” 

He beams like a child who just got a gold sticker. “Thank you.”

“Where’s Luke?”

“Taking his sweet ass time.”

She instinctively shoves him. “Be nice.”

Jack opens his mouth, no doubt about to say something snarky, before something beyond her shoulder catches his attention. “Neeks! Come here for a second.” She turns around to see maybe one of the prettiest guys she’s ever seen in her life. Obviously, she knows who Nico Hischier is, but goddamn, is he beautiful up close. 

She sticks out her hand with a small smile. “Captain. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Just Nico’s fine,” he smiles, shaking her hand before running his hand through his hair. Gosh, he’s cute. “You must be Clementine. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She automatically grimaces. “Oh no.” She turns to Jack. “Are you just as mean to me behind my back as you are to my face?”

Jack’s jaw drops. “Absolutely not! I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m so nice to you.”

Nico laughs. “It’s all good things, I promise. And anyone who has dealt with Jack since he was a kid is a good person in my book.”

“Hey!” Jack says indignantly. “Clee loves me.”

Both Clementine and Nico decide promptly to ignore him. “You’re living with Jack and Luke now, right?” Nico asks.

“Yeah. It’s cheaper than living in the city, and it’s nice to have them around again.” She says. Jack beams. 

“You were out west before?”

Shit. Does Jack talk about her that much? “I was. I did my undergrad at UCLA, and then went to Stanford for med school. So the last eight years, I’ve been a west coaster.”

“But back east now?”

“Back east now.”

“For..residency? Right? Is that the next step?”

“Yup. I just started my residency at NYU in July,” she grins cheekily at Jack. “And now I get to bother this one all the time.”

Luke comes out and brightens up, adjusting his beanie. “Hi Clemmy!”

“Hey Lukey,” she goes on her tiptoes to give him a hug. “Good game.”

“Thanks,” he mutters into her shoulder before pulling away. “I’m hungry. Do we still have the chicken you made yesterday?”

She snorts. “Yeah. Unless someone ate it during the day.”

“Yay,” Luke says sleepily. “How was work?”

“Not as tiring as playing a game, I’m sure.”

Luke pulls a face. “Liar. You’re a doctor. And you deal with kids all day.”

“I’m barely a doctor. And I love kids.”

“Still.”

Jack snorts. “I think we should get the big baby to bed.” He expertly avoids Luke’s slap. “See you tomorrow, Hisch?”

Nico nods. “Get some rest, you two. Good game. And it was nice to meet you, Clementine. I hope I see you around more often.”

Clementine grins. “You too, Nico. See you around.” She puts her arms around both Jack and Luke’s shoulder. Or tries to. “Drive me home, friends.”

In the car, as she’s in the backseat and looking outside the window, after Jack discreetly nudges him, Luke turns around to look at her. “So, Cap, huh? He’s a pretty good looking guy.”

She immediately knows what they’re trying to do. “Absolutely not, Luke. You are way too young to be trying to set me up.”

“What?” Luke whines. “I’m just saying. I saw you two eyeing each other up.”

“You’re seeing things.”

“Wait,” Jack says, making a left turn. “Moose, you might be onto something here.”

“I know I am.” Luke says, in a matter-of-fact voice that it seems like only youngest children can get away with. “Clemmy, you have to admit that Nico’s cute.”

‘Okay, sure. He’s objectively attractive. I could say the same thing about you. Or Jack. Or Quinn.”

“Ew,” Jack says, like the middle child he is. “Also, you’re totally his type. Pretty. Smart as hell. Lowkey. Doesn’t care that he plays hockey.”

“I’m also a resident right now, so I got no time to date, Jacky.”

“You’ve never had time to date,” Jack points out. “When was the last time you went on a date anyway?”

“A few months ago!” She says hotly. She will not let them know that her romantic life has been dry for years. 

“With who?” Luke shoots back.

“Another resident, actually. Thank you very much.”

Jack snorts. “And how did that go?” She pouts. “Exactly,” Jack says. “Maybe the key is to expand your horizons. Get away from the snobby doctors you always complain about.”

“Let it go, Jackson.” She warns. “Before I start harping on you two about your love lives. If you bring girls home, keep it confined to your rooms. And don’t even think about giving them my shit.”

They both cackle as the light turns green, exchanging knowing looks that Clementine misses. 

…..

She’s coming back from a brutal overnight shift when a familiar voice asks her to hold the elevator door open. She blinks as Nico blinks back, dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. He looks awfully cozy. She can imagine that she looks like she got chewed and spit back out. 

She musters a smile. “Hey there.”

“Good morning,” he smiles back. “You coming back from work?”

“Yup.” She presses the button for 17 as the doors shut. “What are you and Jack and Luke up to today?”

“Not sure. I think some of us are going out to breakfast. Would you like to come?”

She chuckles, leaning her back against the wall. “I appreciate the invite, truly. I just feel like if I have to be awake for 10 more minutes, I might collapse.”

He bites his lip and stares down at his feet. She thinks it’s endearing. “Right. Sorry. Of course you’re tired.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Residency life is weird. Almost as weird as a hockey player’s.”

The doors open and Nico nods for her to go through first. “I don’t know about that. I live a pretty simple life.”

“Interesting way to define simple, Captain.” She teases. And he shrugs modestly. Clementine starts to wonder if there’s any arrogant bone in his body. He waits as she unlocks the door, closing it behind her. She walks in to see Jack pouring out a glass of juice and Luke sitting on the couch. “Found someone who may be of interest on my way up.”

She listens to Nico greet the two as she puts her bag down and lets her hair out of her ratty ponytail. “Wanna come to breakfast with us?” Luke asks with a hopeful smile. 

“Sorry, Lukey,” she says apologetically. “I’m literally a walking zombie right now. Another time?”

He pouts. “Fine. I miss you though. I feel like you’ve been MIA.”

“I wasn’t the one who was just on a long ass roadie,” she points out, giving Jack a side hug.

Nico looks around. “You guys do something different with the place? It looks different from what I remember.”

“We gave Clee free reign to spice it up a bit when she came here in the summer.”

Nico hums. “It looks nice. More…”

“Lived in? Homey? Clean?” She jokes, downing a glass of water.

The captain laughs. She watches his dimples deepen and blinks to herself several times. “All of the above,” he says. “I especially like the pillows.”

She beams. “Thank you. My mom embroidered the pillowcases.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us, Clee?” Jack begs. “We promise it’ll be quick.”

“Next time,” she promises. “I’m so, so tired.”

Nico clears his throat. “The team’s having a Friendsgiving thing in a couple of weeks since we’ll be on the road during actual Thanksgiving. I don’t know if these two have mentioned it yet, but you’re totally invited. It’s just gonna be the team and their families or whoever else they want to bring.”

“Is it at your place?” Clementine asks. 

“No.”

“So is it really your invite to extend? I don’t want to intrude.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I was gonna ask you tonight. Hisch just beat me to it. It’s at Toff’s place. Of course you’re invited, so please come.”

She yawns. “Unless I have an overnight again, I’ll be sure to come. And even if I do, I’ll try to reschedule.”

“Atta girl,” Jack says. “You really need to get out more.” Clementine just flips him off, making Luke and Nico laugh.

“Enjoy your day, boys.” She calls out as she walks to her room. She hears them all yell out some sort of response before closing her door.

(As soon as she closes the door, Jack nudges Nico’s shoulder with his. “Make it less obvious, dude.”

Nico’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “Make what less obvious?”

“That you’re interested in Clemmy.” Luke says dryly from the couch. “That’s basically our sister.”

“What?” Nico hisses, aware that she’s right down the hall. “I don’t-I mean, yeah she’s pretty. But I barely know her.”

“But you want to. You’ve wanted to ever since we showed you pictures of her,” Nico doesn’t even have the chance to defend himself as Jack smirks like the menace he is. “Don’t worry, Cap. One day you’ll catch her when she’s not sleep deprived and acting as an actual human being and you’ll be able to sweep her off her feet.”

Nico swallows. “She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d fall for that.”

“She wouldn’t. Which is why you’re perfect. So many of my friends throughout the years have tried to hit on her. Hasn’t worked once.”

“Aren’t you, like, four years younger than her?” Nico says. “That’s probably why.”

Luke scoffs. “Good point.” He’s been less pushy about it compared to Jack, partially because he’s not as comfortable with Nico yet and partially because he’s not Jack. “She’s a good one though, Cap. You’d be lucky.” He says. 

Nico just nods.)

Early the next week when Clementine goes in, she finds out that one of her babies in the NICU she had been taking care of had died. It’s not necessarily the first time she’s dealt with death in her young career, but it’s still not easy. She goes through the rest of the day robotically, simultaneously trying to pick apart what she could’ve done differently while trying to forget about it completely. 

The only upside — if there is one — was that she wasn’t there when the baby’s parents were told. Fuck, she’s not looking forward to when she has to do that one day. 

During her lunch break, she calls Jack.

“Hello?”

“Jacky?”

“Clee? Is everything okay?”

She swallows. “I’m sorry. I can’t keep track. Do you have a game tonight?”

“No. Day off today. Game tomorrow. What’s wrong? Aren’t you at work?”

“Yeah. I am. Uh, what were you planning on doing tonight?”

“Nico’s coming over and we were just gonna chill. Luke’s going on a date, I think. Or doing something. Shit, I swear I told you.”

She blinks. “You probably did. I just, sorry. I haven’t been-”

“Stop apologizing,” Jack chastises. “How about we get take out from your favorite Greek place and have a movie night? I can tell Nico to come by another time.”

“No, no! Of course Nico can come. It’s your place.”

“It’s yours now too.”

She swallows. “He can come by. Greek food sounds really good though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll order some. Do you want me to go into the city to get you after work?”

“Fuck no. Are you crazy? That would be the worst drive.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. Clee, I don’t wanna-you don’t sound like you’re okay.”

She tries to steady her voice. Worrying Jack is the last thing she wants to do. “I’m okay, Jacky. I promise. As long as you have the Greek food ready when I’m home.”

“You got it,” Jack softens. “I love you, Clementine.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

When she finally makes her way back to Hoboken, she feels a bit better. She hears murmured voices right before she unlocks the front door. 

“Hey,” she greets Jack and Nico. 

Jack barrels over, hugging her tightly with a smile. She involuntarily lets out a relieved sigh. “Lucky timing. I just got the food.”

“Lovely. Let me just take a quick shower and change and I’ll be right out.” She gives Nico a quick but friendly smile. “Hi Nico.”

“Hey Clementine.”

“Be right back.” She takes a quick shower and throws on leggings and a UCLA sweatshirt, choosing to let her hair air dry. When she comes back out, food from her favorite Greek place in Jersey that she discovered over the summer is laid out, along with a glass of iced tea. She could cry. 

“Long day?” Jack asks. 

She snorts, digging into her grape leaves. “You could say that. What’s been going on with you two?”

Jack knows her well enough by now that this is permission for him to ramble about anything and everything, from the more-than-usual brutal game last night against the Stars to how shitty his fantasy team is doing this week. Clementine just munches on her food while the two hockey players talk amongst themselves, her chiming in every once in awhile. She learns more about the girl Luke is currently on a date with (which isn’t saying much, because Jack barely knows anything and Nico knows even less) and complains that none of the brothers tell her these things. She only just found out that Quinn’s in a serious relationship. When Jack tries to protest with that fact she’s literally been on the other side of the country for the last eight years, she doesn’t wanna hear it. 

She finishes her iced tea. “How about you, Nico? You got any siblings?”

“Uh, yeah. An older brother and an older sister.”

“You close with them?

“Extremely.”

“Do they tell you who they’re dating and do you tell them who you’re dating?”

He hesitates. “Usually, yes.”

She gives Jack a pointed look. “See? Be like Nico.”

Jack snorts. “Please. If I were more like Neeks, you would have no one to pick on. Nico’s too perfect.”

She raises an eyebrow, shifting her gaze to Nico and she thinks she sees him blush. Nico clears his throat. “I don’t know about that.”

“Also, never listen to Clee. I’m her least favorite. She always makes fun of me.”

“Not true,” she shoots back. “You’re all my favorites.”

“What are siblings for if not for humbling you?” Nico asks. “I’m sure if you didn’t have Clementine here around growing up, your head would be way bigger than it already is.” 

“Captain’s got a point,” she sings, gathering their trash. She waves both guys away when they reach out to help. “Season’s been pretty good so far, right?”

“Thought you would be too scatterbrained to be keeping track.” Jack retorts.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t check the scores when I can.” She says, poking his side. Jack yelps. 

“You know what? Maybe you deserve to be her least favorite,” Nico jokes. “You’re so mean to her.”

“Hey!” Jack protests. 

“Thank you, Nico.” Clementine beams. “Finally, someone with sense around here. You gotta come around more.”

“Season’s going well, thank you for asking.” Jack sasses. “Oh, that reminds me. Trevor asked me if you were gonna come to the game when the Ducks are in town. Demanded, actually. Said that it’s been too long since he’s seen you and that he misses you. Not like you used to get to see him when you were in California or anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “When is he in town?”

“Sometime in December, I think.”

“Then yeah. I’ll be there. Not like I have a life outside of work anyways, as you always remind me.”

“You know Zegras?” Nico asks, before shaking his head. “Actually, yeah. Of course you do, if you grew up with Jack.”

“Not as well as you might think, though, to be fair.” She says, wanting to assure Nico that he isn’t completely wrong. “By the time Jack got into the development program, I was already out at UCLA. I was out there even before Quinn got into the program. Right at the same time, I guess. But you know, during the summers, wherever Jack is, Trevor usually isn’t far behind. He’s a good kid.”

“Clee kinda really is everyone’s older sister,” Jack says, passing a beer to Nico and a glass of wine to Clementine. “You should see how much Luke’s Michigan boys love her. And they’ve literally only met her once. Or never.”

Clementine waves Jack’s comment away. “It’s only because Luke calls me the most out of you three. And he’s my baby! I literally remember holding him when he was born.”

And the rest of the night is like this, as they exchange stories and memories, some she’s a part of, some she’s not and just likes listening to. Little mention of her work, which she’s so thankful for and knows in the back of her head is a purposeful play on Jack’s part. 

Even though she already wasn’t around when Jack left for New Jersey, she worried about him, especially after his tough rookie year. She still remembers the occasional calls she’d get of him breathing heavily and stumbling over his words and how she could do nothing about it across the country except offer a listening ear and some big sister comfort verbally. 

But now, watching Nico’s addicting smile and listening to his soft, comforting voice, she’s starting to see that Nico stepped up in that role so seamlessly and so well. It’s no wonder Jack always speaks so highly of his captain. Nico was there, and still is there, when she can’t be, whether it’s because she’s physically so far or just doesn’t understand because she isn’t a first overall draft pick. Sure, one could argue that it’s the duty of a captain. But she can tell it’s mostly because Nico is a caring guy.

That puts Nico pretty fucking high up in her good graces already. 

(Clementine retires to bed soon after, not before making sure by text from Luke that he’s safe and good. Once her bedroom door clicks, Jack attacks. 

“So…thoughts?”

“On Clementine?” Jack nods and Nico shrugs casually. “She’s great.”

“Come on, Hisch. You gotta give me more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jack makes some sort of vague gesture and Nico sighs. “She’s quick, smart, funny. Deals with all your shit and you can tell she still loves you a lot. I didn’t-I mean, I knew you guys were close. I didn’t know you were that close though.”

Jack shrugs. “Yeah. Honestly I consider myself as close to her as I am to Luke or Quinn. She’s just, you know, been around for so long. It was really hard when she left for college, but she’s good at keeping in touch, which you know, thank god. Because I’m not. She came to all our drafts and she always makes the time to call or text, even though I know she’s busier than all of us combined with school and residency and all that.” Jack leans back into the couch. “It’s interesting to think about. With Clee, no one else except people who are actually close to me know about her, but she’s just as big a part of my life as my actual brothers. I mean, her mom’s the one who bought me the suit for my draft and Clee saved up to gift me the watch I wore with it. I don’t know. It’s interesting that you can think you know so much about someone but you’ll probably never get the full picture unless you’re there.” 

Nico hums, taking in Jack’s impromptu but astute ramble. “She ever play?”

“Hockey?” Nico nods. Jack snorts. “Nah. Soccer was her thing. Was pretty damn good too, if I remember correctly.” The younger boy shifts suddenly to a standing position. “If you want to know more, ask her yourself, Hischier. I’m tired. Get out of my apartment.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but stands up anyways. “See you in the morning.”)

The Devils Friendsgiving rolls around, and with a large bowl of homemade Spinach Artichoke Dip and a couple bags of pita chips, she climbs into the backseat as Jack starts the engine and Luke fiddles with his phone to pull up the directions. She doesn’t have to go into the hospital until the afternoon tomorrow, so she’s looking forward to treating herself to a couple glasses of wine and getting to meet more people. Luke puts some country song on that Jack starts humming as he starts driving. Clementine folds her legs on the seat as her chin rests on her knees, looking out at the window as the trees blur. She kicks the back of Luke’s seat when one too many country songs play in a row, knowing that they know that she prefers other genres of music. Luke just grunts, before putting on some Noah Kahan and she hums in satisfaction. 

The Toffoli’s house is spacious, and she shuffles carefully up the steps to the house behind Jack and Luke, careful not to slip on black ice. She slips off her jacket, passing the food off to Luke, before taking it back and walking into the warm home behind the boys. She just smiles and stands to the side as everyone exclaims at their arrival. She grins as Cat embraces her, thanking her for the invite. Cat waves her off and looks absolutely delighted when Clementine sets down the dip. Tyler pours her out a glass of wine and hugs her in greeting. 

The journey to being a doctor has shaped Clementine to be good at remembering names quickly, which helps her tremendously as Jack bounces around to introduce her to everyone. Everyone is so welcoming and the sprinkle of kids around makes her smile as well. It’s lovely to see that this team loves hanging out with each other off the ice when they’re not obligated to. She finds herself chatting with…everyone and is almost surprised but absolutely delighted at how kind everyone is. Some of the wives and significant others don’t hesitate to rope her into future plans and their group as a whole and she feels touched. She’s not sure how much time and energy she’ll have to go to some of their gatherings, but it’ll be nice to have some more familiar faces in the city. 

It’s when everyone’s starting to grab food does she find herself standing next to Nico, who had waved and nodded at her earlier when she walked in. “Hey Captain.”

Nico’s smile is blinding. “Like I’ve said, Nico works just fine.”

She shrugs with a chuckle. “How have you been?”

He sees her eyeing the potatoes and scoops some on her plate before he grabs some for himself. and she smiles at him in thanks. “Nothing new,” he says. “Just you know, playing hockey.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I bet. You had a sick goal the other night against the…Caps, was it?”

“Thank you,” he says as they both head towards two empty seats next to each other at the kitchen island. “You watch the games?”

“When I can. Not as much this season as I used to. It honestly used to be really effective background noise when I studied at school.”

His eyes track to her bracelets. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about those.”

“My bracelets?”

“Yeah. You wear them all the time. Is there any significance to them? If you’re comfortable telling me, of course.” He rushes the last sentence, eyes wide. 

She waves him off with an easy smile, pointing at each one of them as she goes through. “Quinn, Jack and Luke each made me one before I left for college. Gave them to me right at the airport before I went through security. Had me sobbing on practically the whole damn plane ride. I don’t wear them to the hospital, really, but otherwise, it’s kinda just habit to put them on at this point.”

“You love them a lot,” Nico observes.

Clementine just smiles, watching Luke play with one of the kids. “I do. They’re good guys to grow up with. But enough of that. Don’t think I don’t remember the explanation you promised me last time, Nico.”

A playful smile on his lips, Nico finishes chewing his food. “Explanation of what?”

“How the hell you chose soccer over hockey, when soccer is the best sport, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Nico echoes, and her smile widens. “I mean, yeah. There’s not much to it. I kinda was good at most sports. I still love watching football, or soccer. My dad used to play professionally, so I still enjoy playing pick up in the summer once in awhile. My brother played hockey, and I wanted to do everything he did. And then…”

“You were really fucking good.” She finishes for him. 

“I guess, yeah. You work with kids, right? Being their doctor?” She nods and he smirks slightly. “Even I know you have to be super smart for that. The journey to being a doctor can’t be easy.”

She chuckles a bit, feeling a bit flattered. “It has its moments. Definitely not the most simple career, by any means.”

“Anything specific with…what is it called? Pediatrics? I don’t really know how specializations work.”

“I’m actually doing an EM/Peds residency right now, which combines training in both the emergency room and pediatric medicine. There’s something about kids and the environment of an ER that I really enjoy, so putting those two together is..kinda the dream.”

“You’re incredible,” Nico says softly. And if she wasn’t blushing before, she definitely is now. Or is it the wine? “Seriously. That’s some amazing stuff. Is that common?”

“Combining residencies?” He nods. “No. Actually, NYU is one of the only teaching hospitals in the country that’s approved for this specific program.”

“So not only are you smart. You’re just the best of the best.”

She chuckles a bit and puts food in her mouth so she doesn't have to respond, because what the fuck? She’s thankful that Jonas and Nate join and divert their conversation so she can gather herself. She’s heard those words from people many times. Nico saying them shouldn’t have her stomach fluttering. 

(Later that evening, Clementine, predictably, finds herself among the moms with young kids, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, giving them attention and watching them so that their parents can relax a bit more. 

She’s mindlessly talking and playing with Owen, Curtis and Reanne’s 3-year-old son, who’s at the age where he just loves to babble. 

Reanne bounces her son on her knee. “This is Clementine. Can you say Clementine?”

Owen claps his hands. “C-cuh-”

Clementine can tell Owen is getting a little frustrated that he can’t pronounce her name. “Owen, you know him?” She points towards Jack, who’s sitting on the couch a few feet away talking to Nico, Curtis and Jesper. Jack catches them and waves with a big smile as their conversation trickles off. 

“Unca Jack!”

“That’s right,” Clementine coos. “When Uncle Jack was as small as you, he couldn’t say my full name either. So he just called me Clee. Can you say Clee?”

“Clee!” Clementine nods excitedly and laughs with Owen as he says it again. “Unca Jack call you Clee?”

“He sure does. He still calls me Clee. And he’s a big boy now.”

Reanne grins, “Is that true?”

Clementine chuckles. “Yeah. Him, Luke and Quinn all called me Clee at one point. The other two don’t anymore, but I guess it stuck for Jack.”

Owen grabs one of his stuffed dinosaurs. “I like Unca Jack. He always buys me chocolate.”

All of them laugh as Reanne and Curtis shoot Jack a dirty look. Clementine snorts. “Busted.” Jack at least has the audacity to look a little sheepish as Owen doesn’t mind any of them, his attention back to making his dinosaurs fight each other. Owen hops off his mother’s knee and toddles over to sit in between Clementine’s legs, wordlessly passing her a dinosaur. 

Nico’s fond smile stays glued to his face as his eyes track Clementine and Owen. Jack takes note.)

…..

It’s a brisk Tuesday morning in early December, and Clementine is still trying to find her way where she needs to go. She volunteered to spend a few weeks at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center from recommendation by her mentor, since Newark is short a few hands. She’ll probably get used to the hallways and which floors are what the day before she leaves, but she’s not complaining. She’s still in an ER. She’s still working with kids. And she won’t complain about the shorter commute, even if it’s only for a short while. 

There’s a bit of a commotion outside as she’s making her rounds. Her curiosity causes her to scribble some last quick notes before stepping out of her patient’s room and clicking the door shut quietly so the 7-year-old girl doesn’t wake up. 

“Hey Caro,” she stops another resident who’s walking by. “What’s all the commotion?”

Caroline grins. “You didn’t hear? Some of the guys from the New Jersey Devils are stopping by to see the kids. It’s always a whole day thing that’s a fun day. That’s why Doc told us all to clear our schedules as much as we could today.”

Clementine snorts to herself. No, she didn’t hear. “Ah. I must’ve not been listening or something.”

Caroline offers her arm. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” she latches on to the shorter girl’s arm. “You a Devils fan?”

“I grew up in Texas, so to be honest, no.” They both chuckle. “But the guys are great. And it’s always fun when they come around. The kids have a good time too.”

“I bet,” she says softly. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”

She’s about to open her mouth to try and stumble through an answer, but they’re suddenly in a conference room and Luke is bounding over to attack her in a hug. “Clemmy!”

“Hey Lukey.” She pulls away and ignores Caroline’s confused but amused stare. “You and Jack didn’t tell me you were gonna be here.”

“We didn’t?” Jack grins, pulling her into a tight hug. “Well, surprise!”

Clementine just rolls her eyes as she waves at Jesper, Tyler, Dougie and Nico. Nico shoots her a quick wink and she gives him a shy smile before looking away. 

“Sorry,” Jack addresses some of the staff who have been openly eyeing them. “Clementine is, uh, basically family. We actually live together, which she loves.” The whole room exclaims softly in understanding. Caroline gives Clementine a look that has her holding back a laugh.

Clementine just puts her head down with a smile and waits for everyone to come into the room for the official welcome. Her pager goes off in the middle so she has to sneak out of the room quietly. She catches Nico’s eye before leaving and he gives her an imperceptible nod. 

She tries to keep out of everyone’s way as the players pop into various rooms to say hi to the kids and their parents. She poses for a few pictures at request from both PR departments, smiling the biggest when the social team asks for a picture of her, Luke and Jack together. It’s nice to see the kids really happy, and she does stick around in a patient’s room when Luke is reading a story to one of them.

“The kids like him,” she jumps slightly at Nico’s voice. He grimaces. “Sorry.”

She waves off his apology, staring at the scene. “Probably because he’s practically still one himself. I remember doing this for him when he was that age.”

“You’re a bit far away from Manhattan.”

“Yeah. I volunteered to come out here for a few weeks since they needed extra hands. I should be back at NYU after the new year. Had no idea you guys were gonna be here today. Would’ve warned everyone how annoying you all were.”

“You think I’m annoying?” Nico jokes. 

“All hockey players are annoying.” She turns to Nico and flashes a smile. “I’m kidding. Thanks for coming. The kids always love it anytime professional athletes come in to say hey.”

“The least we can do,” Nico says with a shrug. “It’s probably my favorite event of the year.”

She nudges his shoulder, “I saw you earlier, with little Artie. You’re not bad with the kiddos either.”

“Oh, thanks. They’re sweet. That’s a big compliment coming from you.”

“Well, it’s a bit different for me when interacting with kids is part of my job,” her smile widens watching as Jude, the patient, is laughing at Luke’s exaggerated voices. “Let’s leave these two be. Come with me?”

Nico falls into step with her. “Where we going?”

“I gotta check in on one of our patients, who, if I know her, is probably painting some watercolor landscape while bickering with her sister. I’m sure your big brown eyes and smile can keep her entertained while I take some of her vitals.”

Clementine stops at a room, knocks twice on a door with a purple and pink sticker-covered name card taped on the front, Lacy spelled out in big block letters. She peeks her head in. “Hey. Mind if I come in?”

“Do I have a choice?” The 11-year-old girl sasses. Clementine rolls her eyes, shooting her 17-year-old sister Maisie a quick smile. Maisie just nods in greeting before turning back to her laptop.

“I’m bringing a visitor in here too. Be nice,” Clementine warns. Lacy just keeps painting. She opens the door wider and Nico follows her in. “You recognize this guy?”

Lacy looks up and snorts, though a small genuine smile appears on her face. “Any hockey fan living in the state of New Jersey would recognize him. Hi Nico.”

“Hi Lacy. It’s nice to meet you. Can I pull up a chair for a second?”

Lacy shrugs. “Sure.” Nico shakes Maisie’s hand quickly first before grabbing a chair and sitting by her bedside. Clementine gets started on her notes. “I saw your game the other night. Against the Wild,” Lacy says.

“Oh yeah? What did you think?”

“I mean, at least you guys won in overtime. It probably shouldn’t have even gone to that point.”

Clementine coughs to hide her laugh, Maisie admonishes Lacy, but Nico just chuckles. “That’s a fair assessment. You like hockey?”

“Yeah. I used to play. Before all this.”

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Center.” 

“That makes sense. You seem like you like to score goals.” She hums. Out of the corner of Clementine’s eye, she sees the girl offer a brush and a blank piece of paper to Nico. Clementine smiles to herself. Nico takes the brush. “You got a favorite player on the Devils?”

“Do you just want me to say you?”

“Not if it’s not true.”

Clementine chuckles, “Don’t hurt his ego too much, Lace. He might not be able to handle it. One to ten?”

“Three,” Lacy answers in reference to the frequency of pain scale she and Clementine have come up with. “My favorite is Dawson, by the way. You’re third on my list.”

“I’ll take that,” Nico says with a satisfied smile. “Who’s second?”

“Probably Jack. Or Haula. It depends on the day.”

Nico’s eyes light up as Clementine rolls her eyes to herself. “Jack, huh? Has Clementine told you that she knows him?”

Lacy stops painting for a second. “What do you mean ‘knows him?’”

Clementine gives Lacy a cup of water and waits for her to take her pill. “I’ve known Jack since he was born. Luke too.”

Lacy’s eyes pop open, and Clementine thinks that she would’ve mentioned this earlier if she knew that this was the reaction she’d get. Lacy’s been a hard nut to crack in terms of opening up to her. “Really? Quinn’s one of the best defensemen in the league, in my opinion.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him. He’ll appreciate that.”

“Pretty cool, right?” Nico remarks, carefully dipping his brush in water.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Clementine says. “I knew you were a hockey fan. I didn’t know you were a Devils fan. Isn’t your dad a Rangers fan?”

Nico grimaces automatically as Lacy nods. “Yeah, but red’s prettier. And the Devils are better.”

“That’s right. And don’t forget it,” Nico says. 

“Hey, Lace. Dawson isn’t here, but do you want me to go find Jack and see if he’s around?”

“Sure. I don’t have my jersey though and I wanted him to sign it.”

“We’ll send you another one and he can sign that one,” Nico says. Maisie tries to protest but Nico just shakes his head. “It’s no problem at all. I’ll send you mine though. To convince you to move me higher on your list.”

“I mean, I won’t say no to that.” Clementine and Nico just chuckle. 

“Be right back,” Clementine promises. 

She closes the door and takes a moment to watch the two. Nico’s trying to paint some sort of sunset and lets Lacy guide his hand, listening intently as Lacy gives him some artistic advice. She’s never seen such softness in someone’s eyes before as Nico is looking at the young girl. And later, when Nico hands her two tickets for a game in January, it’s the most excited she’s seen Lacy.

…..

Clementine finds that she has Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off, so the three of them decide to do their own little Christmas Eve celebration — Ellen and Jim are heading to Vancouver to spend the holiday with Quinn and the various family they have out there — before going to Jack and Luke’s family again on Christmas Day. They ask her if Nico can join them Christmas Eve, before going with them to their family’s on Christmas Day, since his family can’t fly out this time around for the holidays. She immediately agrees, and digs her knitting supplies out from the few unpacked boxes in her closet and stops by the fabric store right by the hospital after work. 

Later that night, after a game, Luke waves his greeting before stumbling into his room while Jack beelines to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He casts his eyes on Clementine on the couch, Canucks game on quietly in the background and a whole bunch of yarn on her lap, her fingers twiddling around knitting needles. 

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Who’s that for?”

“Nico.” The lack of response has her raising her eyes away from her needles. “What?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“As a person, absolutely. He’s very-”

“Fuck off. You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You like him. Like, stomach has butterflies and all that shit.”

She puts down her needles with a sigh, “Jack-”

“Listen, I know you’re just gonna deny it or whatever. Because that’s what you do. So, I’m not even gonna bother, but Clee. You could do a whole lot worse than Hisch. And he likes you too, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Jack. I’m not gonna date your captain.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I don’t wanna put you or Luke in a weird position.”

“That’s a dumb excuse. Who cares about that? Certainly not Luke and I.” He comes to sit next to her like an eager puppy. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up or whatever. Not intentionally at least. And I really won’t push and let it go if you want me to. But Clee, you seem so at ease around him. And it’s obvious that he just likes everything about you. It doesn’t have to be serious. But maybe just give it a chance before you just shut it down, okay?”

She nods, taking in his words. “Okay, okay. I will.”

“Promise?”

She rolls her eyes, but clasps her pinky with his. They’ve always taken their pinky promises very seriously. “I promise.”

Jack grins, his typical easygoing manner right back. “Good.” 

After a lazy Christmas Eve morning and afternoon watching holiday movies, drinking hot cocoa and feeling at peace, she, Jack, Luke and Nico put on some Christmas music and make gingerbread cookies to bring the next day. She scolds the brothers as they start flinging flour at each other but she does it with a smile that hurts her cheeks and a heart that feels overwhelmingly full. “Silent Night” comes on and to prevent herself from fully bursting into tears, she leaves Luke and Nico to shape the cookies and drags Jack to dance around the kitchen with her. She thinks he understands, as he places a comforting kiss on her forehead, Luke looking on in solemn happiness.

(Nico notices all of their demeanors slightly shift, but he doesn’t press.)

At midnight, they all exchange presents under the twinkling lights of their tree. Nico looks surprised when they tell him they all have presents for him, which is funny considering he has presents for all of them. As the youngest, Luke goes first, and his smile is pure ecstasy, as he receives a really nice watch from Nico, new shoes from Jack and a bottle of cologne that she knows he’s been eyeing from Clementine. Jack’s next, as he gleefully reaches for his presents. Nico gifts him a customized Snapback that has Jack tackling his captain in a hug and almost tipping the tree over, and Luke gets him the newest AirPods to hopefully discourage him from “accidentally” putting his through the wash. Clementine gets Jack a nice leather wallet she saw at a vintage shop a few weeks back and he acts surprised that she knows what he likes style wise, as if she didn’t practically grow up with him and watch his heinous style turn into something passable. 

Clementine insists Nico goes next. Jack and Luke get him a joint present of a massive box of assorted Swiss chocolates and Clementine thinks his eyes literally light up, excitedly talking about how you can’t get most of them outside of Switzerland. As Clementine hands him her present, Nico only raises his eyebrows at the large bag. 

“Should I be scared?”

She scoffs, “Just open the bag, Captain.”

They all laugh, Jack and Luke eagerly watching as Nico carefully takes out the tissue paper. Jack laughs in recognition as Luke just shakes his head fondly when Nico pulls out a giant knitted maroon blanket. 

“I know it seems a bit weird,” Clementine rushes to explain as he unfolds the blanket carefully. “But basically, when I started going to the boys’ games, I would get really cold sitting in the bleachers. So my mom taught me how to knit and I knitted myself a huge blanket, kinda like this one. The parents all saw me with it and eventually started asking if I would knit some for them. And I did, so it’s kinda a thing I like to do when I have time now. Makes for good presents too.”

Nico looks behind him to a similar looking white blanket draped across the couch. “Did you make that?”

She grins. “Yeah. I think that one was the one I gave to Jack right before he left for New Jersey. I know Luke has the one I gave him before he left for Michigan in his room.” 

“It’s super warm,” Luke says.

“Clee doesn’t make these blankets for just anyone,” Jack adds. “She only just made one for Turcs last year after he had been practically begging her for years.” 

Nico folds the blanket back up and reaches over to envelop her in a tight hug. She lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I love it.”

She just smiles, trying to tell her brain to calm the fuck down before she reaches out to grab Jack and Luke’s (and Quinn, he said to her over the phone this morning) gift for her. She pulls out a photo album and immediately starts sniffling. The first photo on the first page is of her holding Quinn at the hospital right when he was born. Written below, in what she recognizes as Quinn’s handwriting: 

Clem holding Quinn for the first time. October 15, 1999. Orlando, Florida. 

She flips through quickly, finding that it’s photos of her and all of the brothers throughout the years, before closing it and taking a deep breath. “I’ll have to look at this more carefully later when I can cry by myself in my room. Fuck. How long did this take you guys?”

“We got the idea when you told us you were moving in, but we really got to put it together over the summer,” Luke says. “It was also fun getting Mom and Maeve to dig up some of the pictures.” 

She wipes her eyes before giving them both individual, loving hugs and sweet kisses on their cheeks. “Thank you.” It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But she hopes they understand. 

“Well, I don’t know how I can follow that up,” Nico jokes softly. 

“Stop,” she scolds him lightly, taking the wrapped box from his hands. She rips the paper ungracefully and opens the box. In the box are light pink scrubs. When she unfolds the shirt, she sees tiny bluebells adorning the right side, with her initials in delicate white cursive on the right. 

Nico scratches the back of neck. “Jacky mentioned that pink’s your favorite color and I had Luke sneak into your closet one time when you were at work to grab me your measurements. My sister does embroidery for fun so, uh, yeah.”

She has to bite the inside of her bottom lip from smiling too widely. She already knows it’s going to be her favorite set. Before she can think too hard about it, she practically launches herself into his arms, half in his lap as Nico lets out a surprised grunt but easily catches her. She holds on a bit longer, even placing a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away. 

“Thank you. I love them.”

(Jack and Luke exchange the most obvious look, yet somehow both Clementine and Nico miss it) 

The next day, they make the hour-long drive. Clementine calls shotgun, and has her feet curled up under her, white sweater stretched over her hands as Jack hums along to the Christmas music playing softly in the background. Nico insisted on getting flowers, which is all too much, but she, Jack and Luke are also bringing two bottles of some really fucking good wine so maybe they’re all on the same page. They’re the last ones to arrive, the house already filled with familial chatter, football on the TV, snacks on the kitchen island and alcohol free flowing. She watches as Nico is embraced like he’s been around for his whole life, even though realistically, he’s maybe only met a few of them in passing when they’ve come to a game. Geegs calls him handsome after .4 seconds of seeing him and she, Jack and Luke all snicker watching his cheeks turn red. It seems like it takes not even three minutes for him to charm every single damn person, especially when he gives Lara the flowers. 

Clementine immerses herself in the cheer of holiday and family, happily answering anyone when she’s asked about her residency. She answers questions about it’s like living with the “terrible two” with ease and laughter, because as much as she likes to give them shit, it’s honestly been one of the best times of her life.

Inevitably, because she might not have their last name but has been part of the family for years, she gets a few questions about her love life, or lack thereof. Lara always jokes that if the stars were slightly different, her and Quinn — or maybe even Jack — could’ve ended up together. And Clementine agrees, because those two boys are so lovely and she knows them so well and loves them so much, but the stars are the way they are, and nothing will ever happen romantically between her and any Hughes brother. 

Romance hasn’t really ever been seriously in the cards for Clementine, which is partially self inflicted. She had something in college that lasted for over two years, but since then, nothing has stuck. She’s always used the excuse of school and now residency, and it’s somewhat true. But even she knows she’s running out of excuses for herself. 

As her eyes flit over to Nico, who’s across the room talking to Luke and Ben, one of their cousins, looking so fucking soft in his gray crewneck and dark washed blue jeans, hair too fluffy and the most heartwarming smile on his face, she tells herself to get it together. 

After over two decades of being around hockey boys, she can’t be developing a crush on the captain of the New Jersey Devils. 

…..

On the morning of New Year’s Day, Clementine tries her best to go about the kitchen quietly to make her breakfast, only to find Jack and Luke already there, sipping on their coffees. 

“Morning boys.”

“Morning Clemmy.”

“Happy new year!”

“Happy new year,” she yawns. “Morning skate?”

“We’re skipping.” Her eyebrows shoot up and Luke just gives her a look. “C’mon, Clemmy. We’re not letting you do this alone.”

She swallows and her voice cracks. “You guys remembered?”

“Clee,” Jack says with a sympathetic smile. “Of course we did.” 

Before she can control it, her eyes water and she sniffles. Luke comes up and pulls her to his side, allowing her to momentarily bury herself into his sweatshirt as she tries to gather herself. Above her head, Luke and Jack share a look as Jack wordlessly grabs a thermos from the cabinet and fills 3/4 of it with coffee, topping it off with oat milk. Clementine pulls away and rubs at her eyes. 

Jack smiles at her. “Picked up some croissants from downstairs we can eat on the way. The florist should be open by now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” she turns to Luke again and pulls him into a real hug. She only forces herself to pull away so she can give Jack one too, before going to her room to change. 

They stop by the florist downstairs and she picks out a bouquet of fresh daisies. She watches Luke mull over his options before choosing the white lilies as Jack automatically reaches for the pink peonies. He also cradles a bouquet of sunflowers, and when she gives him a confused look, he just smiles.

(“From Quinn. He specifically requested sunflowers.”

Clementine bites her lip, nodding, the image of toddler Quinn almost yanking the sunflowers in the yard in front of her childhood home before her dad stopped him and explained how flowers grow passing through her mind.)

The drive to the cemetery doesn’t take too long. They may be driving in from a different direction than she’s used to, but somehow, it’s like her body knows exactly where she’s going. Once they arrive, she quietly directs them to the right hill and she takes a sip of her coffee before opening the car door. She tries to take the flowers from Luke’s hands but he just softly tells her he’s got it. She’s a step ahead of the two as she leads them to the correct place. 

She smiles as she comes close, seeing the semi-fresh bouquet of roses she knows her mother must’ve placed there three days prior, 28 years to the day they got married. She watches as Luke carefully sets down all their flowers, and she bends down to help him arrange them in a pretty way as Jack unfolds the large blanket. They all sit down and stare at the stone. 

in loving memory of

Miguel Alejandro Sandoval

April 3, 1968 - January 1, 2015

beloved son, uncle, friend, husband and father

As she starts talking softly, some of her words floating away with the slight breeze, Jack hastily grabs her hand with his and intertwines their fingers tightly as Luke adjusts his long limbs so that his head is in her lap. She uses her other hand to play with his curls and takes a shaky breath as Jack places his head on her shoulder. She talks about how she’s back east now and how much she loves residency and how fun it’s been to live with Jack and Luke and how Quinn is captain of the Canucks now and how her mom, Ellen and Jim are doing well. She talks like she’s chatting with her dad over homemade paella on a Sunday morning, rather than in the eerie peacefulness of Flower Hill Cemetery, which is five miles away from the house he grew up in. Jack and Luke don’t say anything, but she doesn’t expect them to. She’s just grateful they’re here with her. 

When they’re about to leave, the two boys request a few minutes without her and she just smiles, kissing her hand and touching the stone before walking away. She sits in the car and waits, watching as Luke leans his head on Jack’s shoulder. After six minutes, they’re all on their way back to Hoboken. 

After lunch, Jack and Luke head over to…one of their teammate’s places to watch whatever football game is on. They ask, more than once, if Clementine wants to join, but she denies. They both then insist on staying, but she overrules them and practically shoves them out the door, promising that she’ll be okay and that she’ll see them later. 

Around an hour later, she’s finishing up prepping some pasta salad for the week ahead when there’s a knock at the door. She hums to herself, confused. She’s not expecting anyone who doesn’t have a key to the place. She swings open the door. 

“Nico?” She smiles, albeit confused. “Uh, Hi. Jack and Luke aren’t here.”

“I know. I just saw them.” She’s still confused, but she goes to the side to allow him to come in, closing the door behind him. He slips off his shoes and clears his throat. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“I just..I was at Nate’s,” Ah, so that’s where they went. “And Jack and Luke came in and we were all bummed you weren’t coming and asked why. They didn’t say much, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I, you know, as captain or whatever, asked them if everything was okay and they said it was and I asked if you not being there had anything to do with why they skipped practice this morning and you know them, especially Jack. He’s such a shitty liar. He just said that it may be a hard day for you today, and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Clementine isn’t offended, by any means. Too much time — nine years worth of it — has passed for her to feel any animosity of any sort about a touchy thing like this, especially when it’s just Jack and Luke looking out for her. She just smiles, reaching out a hand to take Nico’s coat. “I’m okay. But if you really want to know, it’ll take a bit of time. I’m giving you an out, Cap. It is New Year’s Day.”

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, walking further into her place. She’ll have to unpack that one later. 

“Tea or coffee? Or whatever disgusting protein shake Lukey has in the fridge?”

Nico snorts, settling himself down on the coach with the comfortability of someone who lives here. Then again, Clementine is reminded, as he unfolds the white knitted blanket, that Nico’s known the layout of this apartment longer than she has. “Coffee, please. Black is fine.”

“Abysmal,” she remarks, pouring out a cup for him and herself. She sets them down on the coffee table before smiling at him. “Be right back.” She goes into her room to dig through her bookshelf for a specific photo album that she only cracks open during January 1 of every year. It doesn’t take long before she paddles back to the living room, placing the album next to her coffee. She sits a respectable distance from Nico, but tucks herself under the blanket anyway. She watches him sip his coffee for a few moments.

“We were at the cemetery this morning. That’s why Jack and Luke asked to skip morning skate. We were visiting my dad. He died nine years ago today. Cancer,” she says, like she’s recalling a medical fact she read in her textbook. “He was, god, my best friend, really. And the best person, in my completely biased opinion. But maybe not. Miguel Sandoval, everyone used to say — still says — had a heart of gold and a smile as bright as the sun. He loved being outside. Worked as an environmental engineer. He loved chocolate ice cream. He hated mosquitos, always cursed them out in Spanish during the summer just to make me and my mom laugh. He always kicked the ball around in the backyard with me, even after an exhausting day at work. He made the best paella, made it pretty much every Sunday. God, he really did light up every room he walked into. He loved my mom. Loved me. And we loved him. Love him.” She reaches for the album and offers it to Nico, who slowly starts flicking through the pages. She looks on with him at the photos. “My mom, Maeve, and Ellen, Luke and Jack’s mom, played soccer at UNH together and just kept in touch throughout the years. My mom and dad met at UNH too. And then Ellen met Jim, and the four of them were so, so tight, I’ve been told. Double dates, all of that.” She smiles, looking at her mom and dad’s wedding photos. “Ellen was my mom’s maid of honor, and my mom was hers. They always like to remind me that I was in my mom’s stomach when Ellen and Jim got married. Anyways, I was 18 when he died, so looking back, I’m grateful that I even had that many years with him, but at the same time, it felt so short. 100 years wouldn’t have been enough time with him.”

“He sounds like an amazing man,” Nico says softly. 

Clementine smiles with him. “He was. It’s easier now. Nine years is a long time. But during the few years after, it was really hard. I felt really guilty going to UCLA just months after he died.  Was about to throw it away and go somewhere close to home instead, but my mom insisted, knowing it was my dream school. I felt guilty leaving her across the country, in a fucking different country, but it did help that she had people around to support her. It’s still not easy. This time of the year is always pretty hard on me. And it’ll never really go away. But time does heal.”

She takes a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts, as Nico continues perusing the album, laughing at some and cooing at others when the Hughes brothers start making an appearance. They stop at a picture of her father holding Luke right when he was born in the hospital, Jim proudly smiling in the background and young Jack and Quinn looking on. “My dad loved the boys and I don’t even think saying he loved them captures 1% of it. Those boys were his boys. If I didn’t have soccer games or practices, he was tagging along to all their hockey stuff after work and on the weekends. He didn’t know jackshit about the sport at first, but he eventually learned the ins and outs of the game because he wanted to support them. Did Jack ever tell you why he chose 86? Or why Luke chose 43?”

“I think Jack just said it was a family number or something,” Nico says. “Didn’t go much into it.”

“My dad’s birthday is April 3. 43. I think all of them wore it during their first year at the program. And then Quinn and Luke decided to go back to it in college and beyond, obviously. 43 doubled is 86, of course, but my dad, who was also a middle child, used to say Jack’s personality was so big and bold that it doubled his siblings’. The boys loved him just as much as he loved them.” By now, the tears are gushing down her cheeks. “Sometimes, I think that the three of them took the loss harder than I did. He never got to see them play for their country. He never got to see them get drafted. He never got to witness their first points in the show. And fuck, my dad would’ve cheered so loud. Would’ve been so proud. Probably is so proud, wherever he is. But, you know, during the big moments, and the little ones, we all know he’s there. I just know he is.”

“He is.”

She calms herself down a bit and chuckles. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, no.” They shift closer to each other and she leans into him as he puts an arm around her shoulder. “It’s not a lot. I-thank you. For telling me all of this. Thank you for trusting me.”

Clementine just shrugs, but the weight of her shoulders feels heavy. “I’ve never felt the need to justify to others what the Hughes family means to me, but telling people about…this usually gives them some context. I frankly don’t know if I would’ve survived and gotten through it without them. It’s more than just family friends at this point. It’s family, but it’s also something so much more. I get reminded everyday how lucky I am to have them.” 

(She swallows, thinking back to her ex-somethings that could’ve been something more had they not let their insecurities show after finding out how three of her closest friends are not just guys, but nationally scouted hockey players, thinking back to a splattering of girls who she thought were her friends but subtly changed their attitudes when they tried to get Clementine to put a good word in, thinking back to some who brushed aside her own accomplishments to fixate on her pseudo-brothers’ careers. She’s never directly mentioned it to any of the boys. It’s not their burden to worry about. But even if they aren’t as smart as her, she thinks they have an idea)

Nico nods. She thinks he may understand, weirdly enough, despite the different circumstances. It seems like Nico just understands a lot. Nico smiles, setting the album back down gently on the table in front of them. “Your ability to love greatly. Your natural protectiveness. Did that come from your dad?”

“Yeah, actually. I love my mom, of course. But she’s always been more of the tough love parent. I think the protectiveness was more of just the situation I was put in, being the oldest out of all of us and also an only child. But the love…a lot of people who knew my dad say we’re very similar in that aspect. So thank you. I’ll take it as a compliment. That means a lot to me.”

She busies herself and sips on her coffee. Nico clears his throat. "You can feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I just…did your dad’s situation influence you to want to become a doctor?”

“Sorta. I kinda always knew that I wanted to do something in science, but it definitely solidified when he died. I did think about going the oncologist route, a doctor that deals with cancer, but I ultimately decided that it hit too close to home. I-I’d like to think that in a profession that’s dedicated to trying our best to save lives, that I have a perspective on death that helps me more than harms me. Helps the patient and their family more too, hopefully.”

“That’s an extremely mature way to look at it.”

“Jesus, Cap. Way to make me feel old. I’m only 26, you know.”

“With all the stuff you’ve gone through, you’re probably more emotionally, like, 37.” Well, he kinda has a point. “But seriously though. What a beautiful perspective.”

“I appreciate that a lot, thank you.” She snuggles more into the blanket, and therefore, closer to Nico. “Bet you didn’t think you’d get this to start off your year.”

She feels the ghost of his lips press to her hair and hopes he doesn’t feel her racing heart. “Perhaps not. But I’m pretty content with how it’s going so far.”

…..

For Nico’s birthday, Clementine asks Emilia, who’s Swiss, what some traditional Swiss desserts are. After getting a recipe for a semi-complicated cake from Emilia from her mother, she gets to work.

She makes two cakes, or Zuger Kirschtorte, the larger one for Nico and the smaller one for her, Luke and Jack. It takes a good chunk of her evening, but she makes it a whole thing, putting on the Devils vs Caps game, measuring ingredients and going back towards her laptop to make sure she’s following the recipe correctly. She’s momentarily grateful that both boys aren’t here, partially so they don’t distract her in case she fucks up but mostly so they don’t start teasing her. She knows they will eventually, but she would rather hold it off as long as possible. 

The cake turns out really good, which is a bit surprising. Clementine’s always liked baking, but she’s not amazing at it. She carefully puts the larger cake in a disposable container, setting it on the counter to give it to Jack and Luke to give to Nico tomorrow morning, putting the smaller one in the fridge. Before she sleeps, she places a sticky note on the lid, “do not touch or i’ll kill you” written out in all capital letters.

(The next morning, Nico smiles when he sees that Clementine had sent him a short text reading “Happy Birthday Cap!! Enjoy your day :)” When Jack walks into the locker room, cake in his hand and beelining towards him, he’s confused. 

“Special delivery for the birthday boy,” Jack says with a knowing smile. 

Nico furrows his eyebrows. “From who?”

Jack nods to the card taped to the top of the lid. “Read the card and find out.”

Nico sets the cake beside him carefully as Jack practically skips to his stall. He ignores what he feels like are multiple eyes on him as he opens the card. He feels his throat dry up. 

Captain, 

Happy birthday!! It’s always a joy seeing and talking to you, so thank you for bringing that into my time in Jersey so far. I tried my best with the cake, so forgive me if it isn’t perfect, but I hope it brings you a sense of home. 

With love, 

Clementine

Nico takes a closer look at the cake and does a double take, before shooting her a quick text of gratitude and carefully putting it into his locker. Hours later, when he finally gets to try it, he closes his eyes in happiness, savoring the taste of a dessert his grandma used to make all the time when he was younger and thinks about the girl who made it. 

Two days later, when Clementine’s at The Rock to see all Hughes brothers together on the ice as the Devils take on the Canucks, he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of her afterwards. After getting a hattrick, he’s on a high and he’s hoping even more to get a chance to see her afterwards.

He comes out of the locker room, tired but happy, and first sees Ellen Hughes’s unmistakably bright smile. He greets her politely, grin widening as she pulls him into a motherly hug. He shakes Jim’s hand before Clementine practically jumps onto him, congratulating him on his hat trick with a happy squeal. He can’t help but laugh and squeeze her just a bit tighter before letting go and ruffling Luke’s hair. 

“Hey,” he lowers his voice so only Clementine can hear. “Thank you. For the cake. You really didn’t have to. It was delicious.”

“Really?” She says, tucking her hair behind her ears and bouncing on her toes. “Oh, I’m so glad you liked it!”

“How did you-where did you get the recipe?”

“One of my friends from the hospital is Swiss. I asked her, and she got it from her mom.”

All Nico can do is blink, because he’s so fucking touched that someone would go out of the way like that. He takes a second to look at Clementine’s beautiful smile and takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

She just beams. Nico wants to bottle it up. 

Right as he’s slipping into bed that night, he checks his texts one last time, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees a text from Luke from four minutes ago. It’s a Twitter link. Confused, Nico clicks on it. It’s a short clip of the broadcast from the game earlier, after he had scored his hattrick. It shows him celebrating on the ice, then pans the bench, fans, before panning to the Hughes family box. He smiles, watching as everyone cheers, but he immediately notices Clementine, in Quinn’s Canucks jersey nonetheless, jumping out of her seat first and raising her arms in excitement, clapping and shouting and smiling.

As he’s watching the video again, Luke sends another text. 

Luke Hughes

Ask her out already 

I’m getting impatient

Nico just dislikes the second text. He watches the video one more time before shutting off his phone.)

…..

Residency keeps Clementine crazy busy the next few weeks, that even though she wants to go to more games, she’s either working or too tired to drag herself to The Rock. She barely can keep her eyes open even when she puts a game on the TV, and is always fully asleep before Quinn and the Canucks on the west coast even take the ice. 

But finally, on a cold Saturday, on their day off, she drags Emilia along to see the Devils face the Canadiens. It’s a plus that she gets to see Cole again, because Cole has the ability to always put a smile on her face. 

Additionally, it’s a noon game, which is super rare. And Clementine takes that as a chance to host a small little thing at their place afterwards with an open invite to any of the players — on both teams — and their families. She can’t keep track of who knows who in the small world of professional hockey. She’s getting some of her residency friends to come too. 

If she has the energy and time to host something, she’ll do it. She used to love hosting in college and med school, even if it was just something as simple as a potluck. She’s aware it’s the middle of the season and they can’t go crazy, but she loves filling her home with love and conversation. 

Right after the game, she and Emilia both bolt out of there, Clementine momentarily thankful that they coincidentally parked close to the entrance so she could fight her way out of the lot within a decent time. Luckily, a lot of significant others offered to bring something or pick something up, so she and Emilia don’t have to prepare that much. Once they reach the apartment, Emilia helps Clementine out with her giant charcuterie board before taking out the tray of lemon squares she had made the night before and starting to cut them. 

Soon enough, everyone trickles in seemingly one after the other and Clementine is bustling around, making her rounds. She practically pounces on Cole, smiling at the sight of his smile and demanding him to catch her up on everything. 

She’s so busy mingling that she forgets to pour herself a glass of wine even though the bottles have already been opened. She doesn’t really realize it until she feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to see Nico with a smile paired with a glass of wine in his hand. 

“For you,” Nico says softly. Somehow, it stands out above the loudish volume chatter in the apartment. “Got the last of it in that glass. Figured you might want some.”

She accepts the glass with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Cap. This one is one of my favorites.”

“I figured,” he says. She raises an eyebrow. He smiles a bit shyly. “On Christmas, you brought two bottles of that when we went to see Jack and Luke, and well, your, family. And I’ve seen at least one bottle of it at the apartment every time I’ve gone in recently and I know for a fact that Luke doesn’t like wine and Jack doesn’t know a shitty one from a good one.”

She snorts. “You’d think that allowing them to sneak some from my glass at family dinners for so long would’ve given them some taste. Instead, Luke has decided that a shitty beer is always his go-to and Jack’s go-to drink is a margarita like a psychopath.”

Nico chuckles, amused. “Bashing on Luke’s drink of choice is fair, even if I don’t agree, but what do you have against margaritas?”

“Many of my not-so-great moments in college have started with tequila,” she says with a shudder. “Even the smell of it makes me want to throw up these days.”

He laughs as she sips on her lovely wine. “Party animal back at college?”

“I wouldn’t say so. But work hard, play hard was the motto for a lot of my friends, and I wasn’t always strong enough to ward away their pleas.” She nods at him. “How about you? Is your drink of choice actually beer or are you normal?”

“I’m not picky. Beer’s pretty huge back home, though. So it’s what will usually be shoved in your hand whether you like it or not.”

“I went to Zurich two years ago for a friend’s wedding. It might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to.”

“Zurich’s great,” Nico smiles, his eyes flashing in a way she hasn’t seen before. “The whole country. It’s beautiful. It’s home. There’s nothing like home.”

“You miss it during the season? Or are you used to it by now?”

“Mostly used to it. It makes it all the more special when I do go back in the summer, you know? Also, it’s nice to have Siegs, Schmido and Timo here. A little taste of home even though we’re so far from it. Remind me again where home is for you? Toronto, right? Or Michigan?”

She chuckles. “It’s tricky. I grew up in Toronto, but my mom lives in Boston now. And you know, I was out in California for so long. So Toronto, but also Massachusetts, but also California? I don’t really know. But I’m also going to be in Jersey for the next four-ish years at least, so right now, it’s New Jersey.”

“And you’re happy with that?”

Clementine looks around the apartment with a giddy smile. “If it’s gonna look something like this, I think so.” 

“Clem!” She turns her head to see Cole bouncing towards her. He halts quickly though. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re good, man.” Nico says, shooting one last smile at Clementine. “Enjoy the wine.”

“Thanks for getting it for me.” He nods once and gives a friendly pat to Cole’s shoulder before walking towards the living room. 

Cole looks between Nico’s retreating back and Clementine, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. She narrows her eyes. “I don’t like that smile, Coley. What do you want?”

“Nothing! It’s a lovely little thing you have here. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Anytime. You looked great out there earlier.”

Cole puffs out his chest a bit and she refrains from rolling her eyes. “You think?”

“Well, I’m not an analyst. Or a coach. Or an expert of the game of hockey in any way. So take all my opinions with a grain of salt.”

“Sure,” he says, leaning his hip on the counter behind him. “But with the amount of hockey games you’ve watched in your lifetime combined with how much you’ve been surrounded by it all your life, I’d say you could give even the best analysts at The Athletic a run for their money.”

“Not by choice,” she grunts. 

Cole just smiles. His default expression, which Clementine can’t help but just adore. “Sure, Clem. Sure.”

“You’re being weird. What do you want?”

“For years you’ve been around hockey players. For years you’ve been around them flirting with you. And you finally crack because of the Swiss captain?”

She plops a few nuts in her mouth. “Whatever Jack and Luke have been feeding you, ignore it. You should know better.”

“They’re not feeding me anything, thank you very much!” She gives him a skeptical look. Cole, like the weakling he is, cracks. “Okay, maybe they have. But I’m also not blind, Clem. Hischier’s well-liked in the league. I think you two would be good together.”

She points at him playfully. “It is not your job to be thinking about these things.”

“Then whose is it?” He shoots back, playful smile still on his face but with a more serious tinge on the edges. “Clem, we’re not 16 anymore. Give us some credit. Let us matchmake a little.”

She snorts. “With love, absolutely fucking not. I know Jack has this fantasy in his head that I’ll date his captain and it’ll be all great, but he needs to chill.”

“He told you that?”

“More or less. He’s not subtle.”

Cole shrugs. “I’m not pushing, Clem. I’m not Jack or, even worse, Trevor. But just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just a fantasy in Jack’s mind. He adores Nico. And you know he thinks the world of you. Maybe he actually sees something there. I don’t think he’d encourage it so much or fuck around with that just to fuck around. You’re some of the most important people in his life.” 

Clementine sneaks a look at Nico, who’s literally just existing, and she can’t help but smile. At the sight of his smile. At the sight of him talking to Emilia. At the possibilities. But she turns back to Cole with a dimmer smile. “I don’t know, Coley. It’s not that-Nico’s amazing. He’s honestly just so…good. I don’t think he has a manipulative bone in his body. I just feel like I come with so much baggage, you know? No one’s gonna want that.” 

Cole makes a noise in his throat. “Okay, first of all. It’s not baggage. It’s life. Everyone comes with some sort of baggage, so that’s stupid. Second of all, you have so many people who already love you despite the ‘baggage.’ What’s adding one more person to that list?” 

She just hums. Cole offers her a smile, before switching topics to the Taylor Swift concert he went to last summer, which she knows he’s bringing up just to rile her up.

…..

On April 3, Clementine wakes up for work, to see that Jack and Luke are already awake, much to her surprise. She looks to the kitchen island and sees a plate of blueberry pancakes. She smiles sadly — her dad used to always make blueberry pancakes for breakfast if the boys were over. She doesn’t say anything and just hugs them both tightly as they all dig in. She has to run to work, and kisses them both on the cheek before heading out, promising to see them tonight.

After her shift ends, Clementine ducks into the staff bathroom to change. No jersey this time, but a cropped black Devils crewneck she cut herself with skinny jeans. She bids farewell to her coworkers before swiping her keycard and hopping on the train to Madison Square Garden. She’s meeting up with Emilia, who had the day off, and her husband Tony to watch the Devils take on the Rangers.

She’s grown to love The Rock, but going to a game at Madison Square Garden is pretty cool, even if she gets playfully chirped by Rangers fans multiple times as she walks in. She happily sips on her rum and coke, chatting with Emilia and Tony as she sees the seats slowly fill with blue. Hockey is always fun to watch, but she hasn't been to a game yet that has a rivalry quite like this one. 

As the game starts and she naturally gets into it, she finds herself having a moment where she wishes her father was in the empty seat next to hers. Luke scores a goal, and for a split second, her fingers itch to reach out to hug him as if he was there. She shakes it off and just keeps cheering and playfully getting up in Emilia and Tony’s faces while trying not to spill her second rum and coke for the night. Seeing the 43 on Luke’s jersey makes her emotional and she bites her lip to keep herself together.

Afterwards, after a tough 2-1 loss, she bids Emilia and Tony goodnight as she tries to find the path to the locker rooms, even though she always insists that she doesn’t need an all-access pass or whatever, especially at an away game. But Jack and Luke always insist (“We’re literally all going to the same place after anyways. And this one is at MSG. We gotta make sure you haven’t been injured by their fans.”) and she’s learned to pick her battles with them. 

It’s a nice enough night out, so she decides to wait outside instead of inside the hallway, texting Jack and Luke that she’s outside the exit. She ends up chatting with Jared, one of the guys on their equipment team, about how his daughter is just about to finish her first year of med school at UMass before the doors swing open. As usual, she gives Luke and then Jack comforting hugs, kissing their cheeks and ruffling their hair. Various members of the team start trickling out and she greets them all with smiles, chuckling softly as Dawson wraps her in a tight hug. 

Since MSG is decently close to Newark (without traffic, that is, which is practically impossible for New York City), a lot of the guys drove together to come to the arena this morning. So she watches as they debate who’s getting in whose car, since apparently it has to be different from this morning because of who lives where and a bunch of factors Clementine doesn’t understand. As long as she’s getting home somehow, she doesn’t care. 

She’s tuned them out so it takes Jack calling her name twice for her to pay attention. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“Do you mind riding with Neeks?” Jack says, waving his hand around. “We have a bigger car and it’s easier if we drop off Nate, Holtzy and-”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine,” she turns to Nico. “You sure you have room? I can always just take the train back.”

Nico snorts, “Jack and Luke would kill me if I had you going back on the train this late. I have plenty of room in my car. I’m just taking Bratter back.” 

“Only if you’re sure,” she says, before nodding at Jack and Luke. “See you both at home.”

(She misses the look that the boys all give Nico)

She insists that Jesper take the front seat, practically shoving him and quickly climbing into the back, making Nico laugh. Somehow, the traffic in Lincoln Tunnel is bearable and they’re in Jersey City in just over half an hour. Clementine hops out to give Jesper a hug once they reach his place before sliding into the passenger seat. 

Nico hands her the aux cord, as Jesper had been auxing earlier. She gives him a look. “Are you sure?”

He looks behind him before pulling back on the road. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She hums in response, satisfied, before shuffling one of her playlists. “When do you have to go into work tomorrow?”

“Uh, not until after lunch.”

“Perfect. Are you hungry?” 

“A bit actually, yeah.”

“Wanna grab a quick bite to eat and maybe a drink? I know a place that’s pretty close to here.”

She looks at the side of his face with a smile. “Yeah,” she says softly. “That sounds great.”

Nico catches her eye quickly, and smiles back. “Okay, great. Yeah.”

Within 10 minutes, Nico parks his car in the parking lot of a beer garden. It’s lively, but not crowded enough to overwhelm her. The outside patio is beautiful, and Nico just looks behind her with an encouraging smile. Without thinking, she grabs his hand and they walk in. 

He confidently strolls up to the bar, greeting the bartender, who seems to recognize him and greets him with a friendly handshake, causing her to let go of his hand. The bartender, Adam, he introduces himself as, is already filling up a pint of beer for Nico as he asks her what she wants to drink. She orders herself a rum and coke. He asks if Nico wants “his usual” for the food order and Nico nods, also adding something else that he says too fast for Clementine to decipher. But Adam just nods, before saying he’ll put the order in and goes to prepare their drinks. 

“You come around here often?”

Nico shrugs. “I guess. A bunch of the boys do. It’s a good place to hang out and grab some food.” They both grab their drinks and Nico leads her to the outdoor patio with his hand hovering over her back.

She slides into her seat, putting her hair up and taking a sip of her drink. “I’m sorry about the loss.”

“It’s not the end of the world, since we’ve already clinched playoffs…”

“But it still sucks?” She finishes for him. He nods, and she offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, especially against the Rangers, I’m sure. But you guys still skated really well.”

“Thanks.” He smiles over his glass. “How was your day?”

Clementine blinks repeatedly, her throat suddenly feeling rough. It’s more likely that he’s just asking to be polite, but the fact that after a tough loss, he’s interested and cares enough to even ask. He must notice something shift in her eyes because he softens, hands itching to grab hers. She does the job for him, grabbing his hand probably too quickly. But before she can think too much on it, he loosely intertwines their fingers on the table. 

She clears her throat. “Honestly, not the best. Ending on a good note though.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

She chuckles weakly. “Would you even wanna hear it?”

“Of course I would.”

She finds nothing but sincerity in his eyes. She takes another sip of her drink. “One of the our cancer patient’s chemo results came back ineffective, which is just…so fucking shitty. Docs aren't deterred though and they talked with the kid’s parents today about targeted therapies which is good…” she trails off with a shrug. “Just being in the room as they broke the news, it…I don’t know. It’s always tough. Had me thinking.”

“Back to your own dad?” Nico asks carefully. 

Clementine nods, surprised that he remembered. Before she can respond, their food comes and her stomach is happy seeing the large tray of loaded fries in front of them. They dig in for a moment and she nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you do anything special to celebrate? For his birthday?” He asks. 

“Nothing really set in stone. I always try to do something, whether it’s watch his favorite movie or listen to his favorite songs. Something small and personal. I’m usually not in town to visit his grave, but my mom tries to go. He used to always make blueberry pancakes, so Jack and Luke made some this morning, which was sweet.”

“Jack and Luke know how to make pancakes?”

She snorts. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Yeah, so nothing crazy. Called my mom during my lunch break just to make sure she was all good.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a teacher. 5th grade. So 10 and 11 year olds. She loves it. All the teachers have their own little group. She has her summers off to travel and spend time with family and friends.” Clementine pulls out her phone, quickly finding a picture in her camera roll of her and mom earlier this year at her graduation. “Good old Maeve. Irish to the core and proud of it, yet still can curse you out in Spanish pretty well. Says that that was one of the first things my dad taught her when they were in college.”

Nico laughs. “I still automatically switch to Swiss-German when I wanna curse and chirp. It takes a couple of seconds to translate to English in my head. But sometimes it just sounds so much better in Swiss-German that I wish people could understand.”

“Do you think in Swiss-German still, or do you think more in English?”

“It depends. I would say day to day, definitely Swiss-German. But if I’m at the rink and I’m, you know, talking to the team and stuff, usually English. I’ve trained myself in games to think pretty much in English now, since it’s so fast. But if I’m tired, my brain just switches back to Swiss-German.”

“That makes sense.”

“Do you speak any other languages?” 

She wipes her fingers on her napkin. “I speak enough Spanish to be able to get by, though it’s not as great as it used to be. Apparently I was fluent as a child.”

“Is all your family in the states?”

“Nah. Every year during the summer when I was a kid, we used to go to Spain and Ireland to see family over there. I haven’t gotten to go back there in a few years, but I’d like to at some point.”

Nico hums, just as a waiter comes with a plate of two large chocolate chip cookies. Clementine grins at Nico, who just nods at her to dig in. “Where in Spain is your family from?”

“Seville area, so more south.” She smiles, picturing Seville in her head, some of the rum and coke finally hitting her. “I loved getting to see where my dad grew up. Playing soccer in the fields where he played. Eating at the small restaurants he used to eat at. Remember when you asked me where home was?” Nico blinks for a moment before nodding. “I think I lied. It’s physical places sure, but it’s always been more of the people for me. And their joy and where they feel the most joy. So if we’re basing it off that, home could be Seville. Home could be Cork in Ireland. Home could be Toronto. Home could be Boston. Hell, home could be fucking Michigan with Q, Jack and Lukey even if I’ve only been there, like, three times.” 

“Well, where’s home for you at this second? Right here. Right now.”

“I don’t know. Everywhere? Nowhere?” She looks down at the table, eyebrows furrowing at herself at how emotional she’s getting. She blames the rum, from just now and earlier at the game. “That’s a depressing answer. I’m sorry. I guess, I just, when Luke scored tonight, the 43 on the back of his jersey, for a split second, I thought my dad was sitting next to me. I reached out to the empty seat next to me like he was. But he wasn’t. And I’m so, so sad he wasn’t.” She sniffles, “I’m sorry. Fuck. This isn’t-”

“Hey, hey.” Nico assures, holding her hand across the table again. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing. I promise.”

She doesn’t let any tears fall and just stares into Nico’s comforting eyes with a small laugh. “I feel like you’ve seen me emotional a decent amount considering how short of a time we’ve known each other.”

“That’s okay. Emotions are good.” She chuckles again and his dimples grow deeper. “I-I figured today might be hard. I wanted- I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“So you only asked me to grab food for ulterior motives? Not just cause you wanted to hang out?”

His eyes widen almost comically. “No! No. I-I love spending time with you. I just-”

“Relax, Nico. I’m just messing with you,” she giggles as he rolls his eyes. “I appreciate it, though. Really. I think you’re too kind to me.”

“I’m just the right amount of kind to you.” 

She watches as he finishes off his beer and has a sudden urge to lean across the table and kiss him. 

…..

(That night, when she comes home, she expects Jack and Luke to be asleep. They aren’t. Instead, they’re both sitting on the couch, some random hockey game on quietly in the background. Their heads snap in her direction as the door clicks shut. 

She immediately holds up her hand. “Don’t even. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Hear what?” Luke says. “That you’re fucking our captain?”

“Crude, first of all. Untrue, second of all. And third of all, and most importantly, you guys are annoying.”

“You’re deflecting,” Jack sings. 

“You haven’t asked me a question,” she shoots back. “Goodnight, you two.”

They both groan. “Can you both just get over whatever the fuck you two have going on and make it official?” Jack whines. 

“Goodnight,” she repeats, walking to her room. “Don’t forget breakfast tomorrow!”

She collapses on her bed and screams into her pillow)

…..

If Clementine’s completely honest to herself, making it to the home games for the playoffs is a priority because she just wants to be there just as much, if not more, than she wants to be there to support. Hockey with stakes is nerve wracking, but it’s also a completely different game than the regular season. Even after what could be the most bone-tiring day of work, she’s excited to have the next month or so be filled with as much hockey as possible. She doesn’t even try to fight when Jack and Luke automatically put her name down for a ticket for every home game. Even if she won’t be able to make it come the day, she’ll just leave it for one of their friends. She heard that some of Luke’s Michigan friends are trying to make it out, to which she’s simultaneously elated by but also dreading. Their apartment will not be quiet for the foreseeable future.

The day of their first game against the Penguins, she doesn’t have to go into the hospital, since she had just done two overnights in three days. She sleeps soundly until 2 p.m., and crawls out quietly, knowing both Jack and Luke’s door are shut as they’re taking their pregame naps. She pours out a cup of coffee, makes herself a sandwich, before settling on the couch with a textbook beside her and her notebook on her lap. 

She hears Jack and Luke start getting ready, shower heads running and closet doors opening and shutting. When they both come out in their game day suits, she insists on taking a picture of the both of them, to which they both groan at. They relent, and she sends the picture to Ellen, Jim and Quinn, before squeezing them and telling them good luck, promising them that she’ll see them afterwards. 

After they leave, she starts getting ready, humming to herself as she heats up the flat iron to put some waves and volume into her hair. She figures she has the time, and she hasn’t done anything to her hair in awhile. 

As she’s about to put the flat iron to her hair, someone knocks on the door. She rolls her eyes and yells out, “You two have keys, you know? Use them for once.” No response, just three more knocks. She huffs in annoyance, sets her flat iron down and walks to the door. 

“I’m going to fucking kill-oh.” It’s Nico, in his perfect game day suit with his hair styled perfectly. “Nico. Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be-”

He kisses her. 

Oh. 

He’s still kissing her, both his hands on her cheeks and she finds herself fisting his shirt. He’s still kissing her, and she doesn’t want him to stop. He tries to pull away, but she pulls him back in, and she smiles against his lips at the little noise that comes out of his mouth. He tastes like mint and home.

He does eventually pull away, flushed and delighted and flustered. “I have to go.”

“You have impeccably shit timing, Cap.”

They both chuckle. He takes a hold of her hands. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just had to.”

“Why?” She’s not letting him go that easy.

He squeezes her hands. His stare is making her feel the most seen she’s felt in awhile. “Well, I-I have a long answer that I don’t think I can think of right now. But the short answer is that I like you. A lot. And I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day at the hospital and every day since.”

She swallows, straightening his shirt that she messed up. “Go. I’ll see you after the game, yeah?” She kisses him on the cheek before forcing herself to back away. With one last grin, he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around. She leans her hip against the door frame, “Nico?”

He turns back around in the middle of the hallway, “Yeah?”

She grins, fondness in her skin and bones. “Good luck. You’ll be great.” With one last salute from him, she closes the door. She leans her back against her door and lets out a little squeal. 

…..

(The second Nico walks out of the locker room, all she can see is him. His hair is messy as all hell and he looks exhausted, but his face lights up, and for the first time, she knows it’s because of her.

Without another word, she walks over to him and kisses him. It’s hard to ignore the cheers and whistles from the other people around them, but she ignores them, catching her breath with a giggle. She finally hones in on the other people in the room. Dawson’s grinning, Ryleigh shoots her a thumbs up, Curtis is audibly ‘aww’ing, Jonas is yelling something that she can’t understand but Nico can, judging from his blush. 

“Ew,” Nico and Clementine whip around to see Luke with his nose scrunched up. “Like, I’m happy that you two finally, you know, got your heads out of your asses, but ew. I don’t wanna see it.”

Jack, who’s right next to him, is just grinning. For once, he’s saying nothing. Clementine’s suspicious. She narrows her eyes at him. “Nothing to say, Jacky?”

“Nothing Hisch doesn’t already know,” the two centers exchange a look that has her whipping her head between the both of them. “He’s just lucky we already played Vancouver so he doesn’t have to encounter Quinn.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Clementine scolds. “Leave him alone.”

“Never, especially not now. Now he’s really stuck with us.” Jack beams. “You gonna ride with Cap or are we taking you home?”

She pokes Nico in the side. He looks down at her with a sweet smile. “Drive me home?” She asks.

“Always.”

For herself, but more to annoy Jack and Luke, she kisses him one more time. They both groan as Clementine feels Nico’s smile against her lips.)

[suniloli]

JUST FOR KICKS

29 May 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: approximately 3 swear words, sexual innuendo, fluff

Setting: Prison (between s3-4)

Summary: Today’s weather was perfect for an impromptu prison soccer match. Prison goers — children, adults and spectators alike — become involved, including an enthusiastic you and uncharacteristically playful Daryl.

Author Note: Finally back from my 3000 year hiatus!!!! Here’s a little piece I wanted to get out before I lost it. This is more of an innocent one that I wanted to write (although it’s SUPER predictable ….) I hope the POV jumps are easily followable. Am working on another Daryl fic atm. Enjoy! - Sól

The gorgeous spring sun in the sky and the soft warm breeze were the perfect conditions to be outside and enjoying life. Well, what ‘life’ you could experience within the prison’s metal fences in the middle of an apocalypse anyways. 

This sort of weather was your favourite. It reminded you of your sporting days before walkers came to be, especially the excitement you felt before your games where you’d soak up the sun and let it fuel your competitiveness. Like a videogame character harnessing the sun’s power to unleash their most powerful combat moves. 

It boosted your spirit, and reminded you that even in this world, beauty could still be found. You just had to be open to it. 

And open to it you were. When a couple of the teenagers came excitedly kicking around a soccer ball they’d found, you couldn’t help yourself. Many others felt the same way, which is probably how you all ended up in a massive soccer game across the courtyard, children mixed with adults, the majority of prison goers spectating on the sidelines. 

You managed to get enough to have a 6 v 6, exactly three teens and three adults on each team. Your side included some of your closest friends, Glenn and Sasha. On the other side were Carl and Michonne, and some other Woodbury residents you’d seen around and shared a laugh or two with. Today felt the closest to the life you had before, which was one of sport-filled weekends. So, naturally, it brought out your zealous streak. You were going to win. 

“Guys. We need to fucking smash em’.” you asserted. 

“Y/N! There's kids here…” Glenn jokingly admonished. 

“We’re 15 man…” one of the teenagers pointed out. 

“Anyways…they’re gonna lose whether they like it or not. I’ll play up front. Glenn…you’re quick, so you’ll be with me…uh…” you drifted off, attempting to come up with a game plan. You were so focused that you hadn’t realised the run crew had arrived back and were driving towards the gates. Glenn and Sasha were watching you with amusement. The kids were waiting for your word. You were the professional after all. 

“She’s super into this,” Sasha smirked. 

“Hell yeah!” Glenn smiled. “She’s really good at soccer. We’ve had many conversations about it. Mad skills.”

Sasha patted his shoulder. “Guess we’re gonna have to step up our game then.” 

After deliberating with the kids for a bit, you and your team were ready. 

It was time. 

The whistle — an actual whistle someone had found — was blown by Carol, and the game was on. 

Oh, was the high shrill music to your ears. 

Kick-off commenced, the other team passing it amongst themselves for the first couple of minutes. Of course, since there were no real referees, and since Michonne happened to be right there, you gave her a little shove as you passed, giving her a teasing wink. 

“You bitch!” she laughed as she began running hard for the ball. 

You dashed forward, intercepting a pass meant for her, and crossed it over to Glenn on the left wing. 

Ever the quick pizza delivery boy, he sprinted up the sideline, onlookers getting excited. Making a few minor mistakes, he still managed to manoeuvre the ball around Carl, who you noted was surprisingly fast on his feet, and kicked it back to you sprinting up the centre field. You caught it with your left foot and continued on. Two defenders were gaining on you. 

You juked the defender on the left, rolling the ball under your right foot. Chipping the ball over the remaining defender’s head, you booked it straight to the goal. 

The goalkeeper’s face was full of determination. His hands were out in front of him, feet moving from side to side. In the second that you spent looking at him you could tell he was a bit unsure, but his confidence was unwavering. You admired it. 

However, you used his inexperience to your advantage. 

You faked to the right, watching his eyes follow your movement, then swiftly cut to the left. His stance faltered, giving you just the right amount of time to hit the ball with your left foot. You could vaguely hear kids yelling in the background, Glenn’s shrill laughter, and Sasha’s cheers filling the air. 

As you kicked the ball, its trajectory started outside the line of the makeshift goalpost, and about halfway it began to curve inwards.  You held your breath as you saw the ball curving towards the very top left corner, waiting with bated breath as the goalie took a gigantic leap towards it. 

The ball sailed and sailed and sailed. 

Until you witnessed it pass just inside the post, and the satisfying *thud* of the ball hitting the ground behind it caused your teammates to erupt in cheers.

Pumping your fists in excitement, you saw Glenn sprinting up to you with his arms outstretched. 

“HOLY SHIT!” 

“Oof!” you breathed, getting thrown to the ground in a giant bear hug. Before you knew it, all of the kids, including those of the opposition — a definite product of over-excitement — began stacking on top of the both of you, until all anyone could see was a massive pile of bodies in the middle of the courtyard. 

Laughter and screams and fun filled the air. You didn’t even care about the goal anymore. The innocence and presence of the moment were enough to bring happy tears to your eyes. 

Rick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he closed the gate behind the car. Looking towards the courtyard, he mumbled to himself in disbelief. “Are they playin’ soccer?”

As Daryl hopped out of the passenger side, he responded a bit incredulously. “Looks like it.” 

Opening the boot to retrieve the supplies they brought back, Maggie started giggling, seeing her husband with the ball. “Look! Go Glenn!”

Glenn had the ball and was sprinting up the sideline. At that moment, the three of them observed his and your play. 

“Damn girl…” Daryl breathed upon seeing your goal. Rick let out a low chuckle. Seeing his son playing was like being transported back to a time he thought he’d never get to experience again as a father. 

When Glenn tackled you to the ground, Maggie let off a grunt of amused disapproval and began jogging towards the fun. 

"She’s gonna’ suffocate!" Maggie shouted playfully, her voice full of warmth as she made her way onto the field. Slowly, everyone removed themselves from the stack, allowing you to get up and have a laugh. From where Daryl was, it looked as if you and Glenn were trying to coerce Maggie to join in rather animatedly. Cute. 

As the game continued, Rick grabbed Daryl’s shoulder breaking him out of his little trance. “You comin’ or what?” he grinned. 

Daryl looked to Rick, and after a couple of seconds gave him an upwards nod and made his way down to the sideline with him. 

“Ya’ refereein’ or somethin’?” Daryl asked Carol with an amused smirk.

“Something like that…your girlfriend is kicking some major ass.” 

“She ain’t…whatever,” Daryl grunted. Looking away and at the field, he saw Michonne pass it off to another player, resulting in a tying of the score and a multitude of cheers. Eyes drifting away from the scoring team and Carl’s silly victory dance, Daryl caught sight of you again. 

What you were wearing closely resembled tiny soccer shorts which showed off your long, toned legs. You almost always wore cargo pants, so that was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He stared as the muscles in your quads and glutes expanded and retracted as you ran with an elegance he’d never seen before. 

“You might wanna close your mouth before you start drooling big guy.” 

A faint blush crept up his neck. Turning to shoot Carol a glare, he growled a low shuddup before being interrupted by the ball landing at his feet. A bit perplexed, he looked down at it, and up again to see a bunch of teens running at him and obnoxiously calling for it. 

Daryl couldn’t help but smirk after being encouraged by Carol to pass the ball back. The enthusiasm of youth was so infectious, that even his reserved self couldn’t hide from it. 

“Come on, Daryl!” you suddenly exclaimed, causing him to glance towards you. Hearing your voice made a rush of warmth spread through his chest.

As Daryl looked over towards you, you were caught off guard by the handsome smirk he donned, his eyes glistening with something that made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed slightly, but not from the sun or exertion. 

“Gonna kick it or what?” You called out, a bit of a challenge in your tone. Daryl’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he booted the ball toward the centre of the field. Before either of you could say anything else, Carl beat you to it. 

“Come play Daryl! We need another person!” 

Carol nudged him in the side. “You should go…” 

Daryl looked between Carol, Carl, and finally towards you. You bit your bottom lip and gave a single shrug of your shoulders. The vivaciousness you exuded was alluring. Looking towards the plumpness of your lips and back up, Daryl’s eyes locked with yours and stayed there. It was like you were inviting him to join. Carol hid a knowing smile as he continued to stare. 

Daryl couldn’t leave you hanging, nor could he not indulge you (or so he told himself). Squinting his eyes slightly, he took a deep breath to steel his resolve. Your eyes were like magnets drawing him in. You were beautiful. 

 “Alrigh’...”

As Daryl started jogging onto the makeshift field, a couple of people started cheering and chanting his name. You giggled as he approached you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” you mimicked, hands on hips. You subtly lowered your eyes and gazed at him through your lashes. “Ready to get pounded?” 

“W-what?” Daryl stuttered, suddenly pretending he was interested in the play being made across the courtyard. 

“Are you ready to lose?” You laughed, pinching his side while watching his ears go red. He swatted your hand away. 

“Ain't I playin’ wit’ ya?” 

“Nuh-uh. Didn’t you hear Carl say they were short one?” You waited for a beat, before suddenly shoving Daryl backwards and running to chase the ball. “So better get into position, Dixie!”

Stumbling back a step or two from your playful shove, it was like a switch was flipped. Hearing his name being called and encouragement being thrown his way from the sidelines, Daryl was nearly completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to so much positive attention in this manner…especially your…blatant flirting? He almost didn’t know how to deal with it. 

Almost. 

Seeing you turn back to give him a wink made a certain desire erupt in his midsection. It ignited a type of fervour in him. 

It’s on girl. 

Daryl’s heart raced every time the two of you made eye contact. Not having really played a proper game of soccer before, it was difficult for him to try and manufacture some sort of on-field play with you. Although he’d touched the ball and passed it off to others a few times already, he was slightly trepidatious. The timing just wasn’t right for you to engage with him. 

So, he just decided to ‘go with the flow’. 

Daryl had to admit, this was some of the most enjoyment he’s had in a long time. Especially with other people. But mostly, he enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself. 

You were everywhere, laughing, shouting instructions, encouraging your teammates. You were truly in your element. It was like watching a different person, a side of you he hadn’t seen before. And damn if it wasn’t attractive.

Before Daryl knew it, one of the kids passed the soccer ball back to him, and he glanced up to see you were headed straight for him. He started towards you, eyes narrowing in determination. 

You saw your chance. Daryl finally had the ball and was within proper distance. You started sprinting towards him, admittedly a bit distracted by the glistening sweat on his arms accentuating every muscle fibre there. Focus Y/N. 

As you two closed the gap between each other, Daryl stuck his other leg out and pushed you for good measure, tripping you. 

Your momentum carried you forward, causing you to nearly fall head-first into the ground. At the last second you caught yourself, letting out a huff. A series of concerned ‘Oooos’ could be heard from onlookers. “What the hell Daryl!” you yelled at his retreating form. 

Admittedly, the action pissed you off a bit. Two can play at that game, chiselled arms be damned. 

You quickly pushed yourself from the ground and sprinted at full speed to catch up. You were there in no time. Getting ready to shove Daryl back from behind, you squared up your shoulder and collided with him. It was enough to mess up his footing, and the ball skidded off to the side.  

There was an element of shock across Daryl’s face as he turned around to find you behind him, causing your annoyance to completely fizzle out and turn into something more akin to lust-fueled amusement. The two of you locked eyes, and Daryl’s expression turned roguish. 

The next few seconds felt as if they were in slow motion. The ball sat stationary fifteen metres away, watching, waiting. 

The air cracked with unspoken tension. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest in anticipation of what was to come. Everyone in the vicinity had vanished from your awareness. Now, it was just you, Daryl, and the ball — although really, you were both more focused on the presence of each other than the game now. 

Without wasting another second, you lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s sleeveless shirt. You heard him release a grunt of objection, but it was enough for you to pull him backwards and allow you to lead the chase. 

You heard Daryl yell smart ass as his footfalls sounded behind. You were so incredibly giddy that you felt like a little girl being chased by her little boy crush in the playground.

You were about three metres from the ball before you felt his calloused hand grip your shoulder, half shoving you in another direction. Catching a glimpse of the rarely-ever captured excitement in Daryl’s face, you began giggling as you tried to retain your balance. 

“Hey!” you puffed out. 

“Better watch ya’self” Daryl panted, trying to battle for possession of the ball which now had both of you fighting for it. 

“Better watch your —” you grunted, holding him back with your forearm “— self!” 

Just as you were getting the upper hand, Daryl used his arms to grab you and hastily shove you to the side. His touch set you ablaze. 

As he began running again, you managed to hook your ankle around his own, effectively tripping him over. 

As Daryl stumbled, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, laughing harder when Daryl’s hand caught you behind your knee and he pulled you down with him. You felt an intense surge of electricity travel up your leg and remain at your lower navel. 

Realising you were now trying to escape his grasp and army crawl towards the direction of the ball, Daryl swung himself from his side onto his stomach, scrambling to get a better hold of your slowly retreating legs. 

Surprisingly, you managed to drag yourself another metre or so before Daryl got a proper grip on your thighs, his fingers heavily dimpling into the skin there. Laughter never dissipating, Daryl smiled to himself, having trapped you on the grass. 

Twisting to lie on your back, you continued to squirm in Daryl’s solid grasp. You were able to sense every bend and every shape of every finger taking hold of your thighs. Daryl pushed himself up on his knees, now leaning over your squirming form. 

“Ya shouldn’ta never told me ya’ were ticklish…” Daryl said quietly before he released your legs and started attacking your sides with his hands. 

“NO!” you squealed, thrashing your body in an attempt to get away from Daryl’s large hands. 

Daryl couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the way your eyes sparked with joy. Your tousled hair strewn all over the grass with the sun beating down on your tanned skin made you look otherworldly. Like an angel even his own imagination couldn’t conceptualise the beauty of, but was still here in front of him, seemingly reciprocating his affections. 

You were laughing so much that you were gasping for air. Not wanting you to suffocate, Daryl slowly stopped his hands from moving and held them on your waist for a few seconds to allow you to get your bearings.

Staring into your eyes, he revelled at the softness beneath his fingertips. He focused on the small movements of your abdominal muscles beneath them, and watched your lips part as you pulled in heavy breath after heavy breath. His eyes were drawn to your lips once again as you wetted them with your tongue. 

Moving your hands from above your head to softly grasp Daryl’s at your waist, you huffed a small laugh and gazed at him with wide eyes. You admired his boyish handsomeness. 

“You. Are a prick.” 

Daryl let escape a small snort of his own and shyly chewed his lip. “Only fer ya’ pretty girl…” 

A small breeze picked up, slightly swaying the section of hair hanging from Daryl’s forehead. The way he was softly watching you made you want to pull him down to you and close the distance —

“Either play or get a room!” 

“Yeah! Jesus Christ…” 

The heat of the moment was ruined by a herd of teens resuming the play which you’d seemingly both forgotten all about. 

Both realising the…compromising…position you both were in, the two of you abruptly pulled away from each other, both going equally red from embarrassment. The sounds of people hollering and some mildly inappropriate noises filled your ears, adding to the awkwardness. 

“Oh my god…” you managed, sitting up and covering your face with your hands. 

Daryl stood and offered you his hand which you sheepishly took. He waited until you looked at him before he gave you his half-smile, reserved only for you. You’d never admit it, but it always managed to make you melt. 

“Ya’ actually ain’t that bad at soccer.” 

You shook your head in jest. “Shut up.”

*I DO NOT give permission for my work to be used/adapted/copied in any way.*

[thursdayygrrrl]

from the sidelines

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (wandanat)

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & guns, breakdowns/crying

summary: When Wanda comes into Natasha’s life, she gives the widow something to lose.

word count: 3,859

a/n: this is my first time writing for nat/something nat-centric and, technically, wandanat too! this was inspired by sidelines by phoebe bridgers because i think that song is suuuuper underappreciated and that it was a good fit for them (lyrics are in bold and italics). it’s been a while since i last wrote anything for fun and not for uni, so please be kind. i also don’t know much about gardening so some of the language might not be accurate. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. i hope you enjoy :>

I’m not afraid of anything at all

If there was one thing constant about Natasha, it was the lack of fear. It wasn’t inherent, but was a habit developed essential for her survival. She learned that pretty quickly. One moment of hesitance, no matter how short, could mean life or death. 

There were other times she felt brave without risking her life though. Like when she first dyed her hair. She chose the color blue because it reminded her of the sky. The horizon always looked limitless, a reminder that there could be more to life than what she had already experienced. She remembers making that choice and following through with it. It made her feel in control of something, amidst all the other things she had no power over.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down in the ocean and drowning

One of her most vivid memories is flying the plane with Melina. The night was normal at first. She was playing tag with her younger sister until she fell and hurt her knee. Then, they watched the fireflies and went inside to help with dinner. Alexei arrived and they started eating. It all felt so nice, so normal until he said they were going on a big adventure. Her appetite disappeared. Yelena was excited, oblivious to what it actually meant. She didn’t have the heart or the chance to tell her.

The drive out was tense and quiet, save for American Pie playing in the background. She watched the scenes change outside her window from the suburbs to highways. They had to move fast, but she felt sluggish, overwhelmed with everything going on. She remembers holding on to a photobooth strip of her and Yelena before finally running to get on the plane after being urged by Alexei. The sound of sirens and the whirring of engines, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, filled her ears. Gunshots started sounding off. One hit Melina’s shoulder.

“I need you up here,” She said through gritted teeth. Natasha clambered beside her. 

She was wincing in pain while giving instructions to pull right. 

“Mom, you’ve got blood on you,” Her voice came out strangled, and that tight feeling came along with tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t cry often but she knew she hated the physiological sensations that came with it.

“It’s okay, baby.” Two more cars directly in front of them appeared in the distance. “Hit the accelerator there.”

She did as she was told, speeding the plane up. She faltered when a few more shots were fired at them.

“Hold it steady, hold it steady.” More shots, the headlights ahead were blindingly bright. “You’re gonna pull back at 55 knots.” They started counting in unison. Alexei popped one of the cars’ tires with a bullet, causing them to crash into each other.

“Pull back, you can do it! Pull back, all your strength...” Part of the plane grazes with the bottom of the now-upturned car. But they were finally off the ground. Flying. A sense of relief washes over her.

Considering the past few hours, the rest of the flight went smoothly. They landed somewhere remote, it felt like the middle of nowhere. Alexei carried Melina to a stretcher held by some soldiers she and Yelena ran after. After a short exchange of words with the older woman, she remembers wrangling a gun from someone, unwanted tears threatening to fall from her eyes again, and Yelena’s small form hiding behind her.

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

A needle was buried deep into her neck. She was then thrown into a shipping container with other girls. Masked people were pointing rifles at them, shouting and violently wrenching Yelena from her hold. There was a man, he knelt to meet her eyes. Rough and calloused hands held her face. 

“The Red Room is your home now.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Watched the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Natasha had just started getting used to being “normal,” just another child in midwestern America. She was going to school, being around other kids, having a family until it was all ripped away. Even though it was all a lie, she couldn’t say it wasn’t important to her.

Being back in the Red Room was a regimented, isolating existence. No one was able to speak to each other for long. Schedules were planned down to the minute. Excruciating physical training, including hand-to-hand combat, ballet, acrobatics, and weapons training, pushed them to their limits, sometimes even beyond. 

The mutilation, both psychological and physical, was the worst of all. They broke down each girl’s hope and willpower if any were even left. They were treated like objects, mere faceless weapons they could manipulate as a means to an evil end. The ones who survived were considered lucky, the prime of their batches, and given an operation. They called it “graduation,” but everyone knew what that meant.

At some point, she was able to get out. Her time with the KGB, then in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers was filled with twists and turns. It was a lot of battles, moral disputes, and political agendas. There was even a time when she had to expose her own seedy past, much to her discomfort, but it was for the greater good. She didn’t mind as long as it was for the well-being of others.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now that she thinks of it, the first time she interacted with Wanda was horrible. The witch inflicted a vision, memories that she was trying to bury and leave behind, when she was weakened and vulnerable. There were snippets of a conversation with Madame B. The graduation ceremony. It made her feel like a monster all over again.

The next time they interacted was in the Battle of Sokovia. She remembers regrouping with Steve, but not expecting the very same witch to make an appearance. Despite all the chaos, the jacket she wore looked familiar.

“Is that my jacket?” Natasha gestured at the younger woman, frowning slightly.

“She’s with us,” Steve said.

“That still doesn’t explain the jacket.” 

Natasha was persistent. She didn’t shop for clothes often, never dressing up unless she wanted or had to, so this red jacket was special. It was one of the first few things she bought for herself. Wanda, now awkward and unsure of what to do, ran off. The rest of the battle felt like a blur of robots and rubble.

Since then, Wanda joined the Avengers. The younger woman mostly kept to herself when not on missions, watching sitcoms in her room. Vision would talk to her sometimes. Other times, the widow herself would do so. Natasha understood she needed space and time to cope with everything she’d been through but didn’t want to leave her fully isolated. 

Their conversations, if you could even call them that, were awkward at first. Natasha would ramble on about whatever, trying to fill the silence.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

Wanda looks up from her book only to be met with a small, warm smile on the assassin’s face.

“It’s the usual American stuff. Eggs, bacon, sugary cereal, some fruit. Pretty sure Clint’s making waffles too,” Natasha points to the door with her thumb. “You should eat with us. Bond with the team, all that stuff that Steve goes on about. We’ll have training after.”

Wanda hums in contemplation. Then, she nods. It’s the slightest motion that one would miss if they didn’t pay enough attention. Natasha nods back and turns to leave the room. The witch’s voice catches her off-guard, though.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s raspy in the best way possible, with a hint of her Sokovian accent lingering. It’s a sound that Natasha decides she would like to hear more often. Her smile grows ever so slightly as she gestures for her to walk together.

───

When Natasha started helping in Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat training, the two became closer literally and figuratively. In one memorable session, from when Wanda still wasn’t as skilled at combat as she is now, Natasha was able to pin her down. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrists while she used her thighs to straddle. All to restrict movement, of course. The flustered expression on the witch’s face could not be more obvious.

Their sessions consisted of a warm-up, some rounds of sparring, and a cooldown. After barely surviving this particularly challenging one, Wanda lands on the bench with a sigh. “Fuck… You kicked my ass today, Tasha. No fair,” She says through heavy breaths, leaning back and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Natasha shrugs and smiles as she sits beside her, reaching for a bottle of water across from the younger woman. Her torso brushes with her thigh, making the Sokovian lose her breath all over again.

“Please. I went easy on you. Besides, it’s revenge for taking my jacket,” Natasha says as she sits back up and takes a sip of water.

Wanda stands on slightly wobbly legs while a breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re really still holding that grudge?” She raises her hands playfully, “In my defense, Steve threw it at me and told me to put it on. It was a hectic time, you know.” 

Natasha smirks and shakes her head as they both move to gather their bags and leave. The assassin offers her hand. 

“Let me carry your stuff. It’s the least I can do. Look, you can barely stand.”

“It’s okay, Tasha. I go—” 

“Come on,” The widow urges. A knowing look is on her face. 

Wanda’s face becomes flushed, more so than it already was. It looks like she hopes Natasha won’t notice, but she does anyway. She raises her eyebrow teasingly.

“Did the workout take you out that bad, Wands?”

The nickname doesn’t help at all. Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she hands her duffel bag over. Natasha slings both bags over her shoulder and they start walking together.

“Remind me again why I have to keep doing the hand-to-hand stuff? I literally move things with my mind.”

“If you use your mind, why do you do the thing with your hands then?” Natasha tries to mimic the witch’s signature hand movements with her free hand. This earns her a lighthearted push. 

“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. We both know you can’t just rely on your magic all the time. I want you to be able to fend for yourself if anything happens. Yeah?”

Wanda groans exaggeratedly, “Ugh. Okay, yes, you have a point.”

She chuckles at this. The pair, now embraced by a comfortable silence, walks to the elevator of the compound. As they enter, Natasha wraps her free arm around Wanda’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, firm muscles under her touch, bringing her closer and looking into her eyes. 

“Wanna have lunch with me today?”

Wanda raises her eyebrow, “Can we watch I Love Lucy while we eat?”

Natasha nods and hands over her bag. “Of course.”

They smile warmly at each other, parting ways to freshen up before meeting again later.

───

Natasha and Wanda have seen each other at different points in their lives. Happy, sad, and everything else in between. But the Lagos Incident was a whole other thing. Natasha herself was a witness to how Wanda had been doing so well before it. To watch the immense guilt, self-loathing, and depression come over the witch after the incident, after slowly building herself back up, was heartbreaking for the widow.

Old habits die hard. Wanda becomes a recluse again. However, instead of sitcoms accompanying her, it was the news. She couldn’t help but keep watching coverage of it as if being constantly reminded of this tragedy was helping anyone.

Steve already spoke with her, Natasha knows this, but she decides to give a different type of comfort to the person she’s grown to love. A silent one, one that speaks through actions. 

On days Wanda doesn’t leave her room, Natasha knows she isn’t eating so she goes up and brings food. Nine times out of ten, it’s a peanut butter sandwich because it’s all she can make without setting the kitchen on fire. Ten times out of ten, it’s returned with just a few bites taken out. It doesn’t matter, Natasha is just happy to provide her with even the littlest bit of sustenance.

On nights Wanda can’t sleep, evident by the faint light escaping from her room, Natasha stays up with her. She takes it upon herself to change the channels on Wanda’s television or switch it off. She puts on some music instead, knowing that noise is a welcome distraction to her spiraling thoughts. Other times, Wanda motions for Natasha to her bed. The contact of skin on skin, the physical reminder that she isn’t alone helps Wanda relax even if it’s only for a few hours. Most nights, the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed up against Wanda’s is enough to lull her to sleep. 

And when it’s not, when she falls into that spiral once more, Natasha’s always there to wipe away her tears and pull her out of it.

“So many people… All those lives lost because I-I couldn’t—” Wanda sobs, breaking down in the familiar hold of strong arms.

Natasha squeezes just a little bit tighter. She speaks softly, interrupting the younger woman, “I know, Wands. I know. But you have to stop blaming yourself, okay? We’ve all hurt people and we’ve all made mistakes. Even if we mean well. And you did mean well. It’s just sometimes things work out in ways we don’t anticipate.”

The consoling words fall on deaf ears. Wanda shakes her head and cries even harder while burying herself deeper into the embrace. Her voice is muffled, repeated pleas of repentance, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault… T-tasha, it’s all my fault…” Unsure what to say now, Natasha resorts to her instinct instead. It has never failed her. She starts to rock Wanda gently, pressing a soothing kiss to the top of the younger woman’s head. A quiet, melodic hum resonates from her lips. She continues until Wanda’s breathing evens out and until sleep takes over both of them.

───

A soft stream of sunlight seeps into the room, awakening the Russian. She looks down at the sleeping figure in her arms. Wanda looks so peaceful right now, Natasha thinks. She would do anything to conserve this moment, this feeling of serenity for her. To take away all her pain, heartache, and afflictions. Realistically, she knows she can’t accomplish that. The best she can do is just be there for her. 

It’s been a few minutes since and she feels Wanda stir slightly, who immediately snuggles closer and remains asleep. A warm feeling settles in her body, first in her chest then it spreads all over. She recalls feeling this way many times before, but only ever with Wanda. It’s at this exact instance she finally fully realizes what this is.

I’m in love. 

She bites her lip in contemplation, quiet realization, as Wanda’s eyes flutter open. Hazy green eyes look into clear ones and a mumbled phrase reaches her ears. “Your thoughts are getting loud, Tasha. Are you okay?”

Broken from her trance, she looks down at Wanda. “Yeah, I am. Um. I just… I have something to tell you.” She shifts to lean against the headboard. Now is as perfect a time as any, she thinks. 

Wanda’s eyebrows stitch together in a frown as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She sits up, mostly leaning her weight on the other woman, while trying to decipher the look on her face. The Russian waits for a sign of approval from the Sokovian. Wanda nods and hums.

“I’m going to be direct about this, Wands.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“I like that we’ve grown close, that we consider each other as friends. I like doing things for you and with you and I like helping you, giving you what I have. Time, insight, comfort, whatever. Watching sitcoms with you, sleeping next to you, and waking up in your bed. I like your voice and your ringed hands, how graceful they look when you use your powers. The way your nose scrunches up and your bunny teeth show when you smile. How your accent slips when you say certain words and how you say my name. The way you carry yourself. How you care so much about others… If you let me, I would care for you for the rest of time.”

Natasha finishes with a sharp exhale, only now realizing her rambling. Losing control was one of the things she never wanted to experience again, but this time was different. Finally letting these thoughts flow through and out of her felt cathartic. 

Wanda’s voice is quiet, “You would?” 

Natasha nods, “Always.”

She says it without hesitation. Because she is wholly certain that she has no other answer. Why would there be?

Wanda becomes silent. An unreadable expression appears on her face as she takes in Natasha’s words. Her posture straightens slightly. Tension is now in the air and a silence begins to settle. 

Natasha screws her eyes shut, willing the tears in her eyes to stop forming. She was just about to take everything back, apologize for even saying anything, before getting interrupted. She feels slim fingers gently hold her face. Wanda strokes Natasha’s cheek, her thumb moving in slow, circular motions while she speaks.

“Tasha, hey, please don’t cry,” Wanda looks at her pleadingly, leaning in closer.

Natasha blinks rapidly, brows furrowing together. “I’m sorry. I got nervous because you weren’t saying anything and I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just had to take a minute because I didn’t realize you felt this way. Trust you won’t lose me, please.” She looks away. Her touch slows down and ceases as her hands fall to her lap. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything, moya lyubov.” Natasha holds Wanda’s hands, “I mean everything I just said. I love you, Wanda.” 

She waits for a response with bated breath. Before she knows it, she feels supple lips capture her own. 

It’s tender yet electric. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. It’s simply perfect.

Natasha closes her eyes and deepens the kiss. She cradles Wanda’s jaw and feels the brunette melt into her touch. They pull away seconds later, foreheads touching as they catch their breath. Wanda says softly, “I love you too, Natasha. You don’t know how long I have been wanting to say that.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

It was a calm morning, both women following a routine established over the past few months. Natasha would wake up early and then proceed to training, leaving Wanda to sleep in. By the time she’d be back, Wanda was up and just finishing preparing breakfast. They’d eat together, talk about their plans for the day, and decide what to do from there. Some days they’d spend together while, on others, they’d have separate activities. 

“Detka! Come here, please!”

Natasha was working on some reports when she heard Wanda call out. She looks at the clock and decides now is a perfect time to take a break anyway. She hums as she stands up and stretches her limbs before leaving the room.

Wanda had been tending to the garden in the compound for some time now. She started with small pots of herbs and then moved to random vegetables after discovering she had a gift for raising plants. Lately, she also added flowers and various houseplants to her catalog. Being out in the sun, getting her hands dirty, and nurturing these plants was hard work, but it was work Wanda loved.

Natasha makes a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and pours two glasses of cold water on a tray, then carries it over to the sliding door leading to the garden. She places it down on a table outside and her eyes immediately search for Wanda. It’s an irresistible sight, her beloved’s face beaming and surrounded by greenery. She even thinks she sees her talking to the plants.

She smiles to herself while appreciating the view until Wanda realizes she’s arrived. She gets waved over, “Tasha!” The excitement in the witch’s voice is barely contained as Natasha walks towards her. 

She wraps an arm around Wanda, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead, “Hi, kotenok. I brought over some snacks and water if you wanted them. What is it you wanted me to see?”

Wanda pulls off her gardening gloves, places them in her pocket, and brushes her hands over her pants. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking Natasha’s hand in one of her own and using the other to cover her eyes.

“Close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.” 

Natasha plays along, using her free hand to help cover her eyes. “Okay. Just make sure I don’t trip, yeah?”

Wanda giggles as she leads Natasha by the hand, “Don’t worry, detka, I got you.” 

They walk slowly, up a few steps, and stop. Wanda takes a deep breath, “Okay, now.”

When their hands uncover Natasha’s eyes, she is met with vibrant blooms of various colors against a green background of bushes. It’s a masterful arrangement of asters, marigolds, hydrangeas, wildflowers, and many more. She gasps, breath taken away by the gorgeous sight. 

“You did all this by yourself?” 

The Sokovian nods sheepishly, “Yeah. I read somewhere that getting them all to bloom like this would be challenging, but I think I did decently.”

Natasha squeezes her hand, “It’s more than decent. It looks stunning, Wands. You did an amazing job.”

Wanda’s arm wraps around Natasha’s waist, her head rests on her shoulder. A satisfied sigh leaves her lips. They remain silent, basking in each other’s presence and the garden view.

“If you’re like this with plants, I can only imagine how well you’d be with kids,” Natasha muses. 

Wanda lifts her head and looks at Natasha, her shoulders raised slightly, “What if, at some point, you won’t have to imagine?”

Small smiles grow on both of their faces. They share a knowing look before assuming their previous positions. “Someday, lyubov, someday.”

Natasha used to feel the need to keep busy, keep moving because she thought anything too constant would be taken away from her again. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even herself, the thought of settling down and starting a family of her own was terrifying.

But not anymore. Everything felt so much easier with Wanda. It now truly felt like anything was possible. The lack of fear forced onto her when she was younger came from a dark place of abuse and indifference. Now, it comes naturally. It comes from love.

[the--rebel--fae]

Stereo Heart

A/N: This was actually an idea I found from a post by @animequeen4 and I decided it just had to be written. This was a lot of fun, to be honest. I just hope I did the characters--especially a certain TV overlord, justice!

Pairing: Vox x Reader

TW: Swearing, but that's really it.

Word Count: 1116

Stereo Heart

Velvette let out a sigh as she saw Vox pace back and forth in the main living room that the three of them usually like to hang out in. “Vox, love. Just go over there and tell her how you feel. Stop pacing back and forth worrying what to do like a pussy. You’re an Overlord for Lucifer’s sake!”

Vox sent a glare towards his fellow Vee and finally stood still for a moment. The growing whirring of his fans could practically give away how stressed he was. “Velvette. It’s not that simple. This girl’s different. She’s just–just-bzzt” He buffered slightly trying to figure out the right words to describe her.

Velvette chuckled. “You are so whipped.” Vox crackled with electricity and she shrugged nonchalantly and rested her chin on her hand while still typing away on her phone with her other hand. Velvette glanced back over at Vox as he started to pace again. “If you’re really trying to woo your little Cinderella and just doing things how you always do won’t work–”

“They won’t.”

Velvette set her phone down and crossed her arms. “Do you want my help or not Vox?” She was truly sick of how borderline pathetic Vox was being. 

As much as Vox hated that he was even asking for help, this girl was something special. He’d never seen someone that he was actually willing to court and woo instead of straight-up manipulating to get on his side. No, he couldn’t do his usual thing. He had to go bigger, better! And even if he had to get past that old timey prick at the hotel she was staying at. 

Vox let out a groan and ran a hand down his face. “Fine. what do you have in mind?”

Velvette smirked. “You said this girl died in the eighties yea?”

***

Vox groaned as he walked up to the tacky little hotel Alastor was staying at. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to deal with him. “Velvette you better be right about this or I swear,” he hauled the heavy-ass boom box up on his shoulder and hit the play.

Inside the hotel

You chuckled at a joke Angel Dust told you as the two of you hung out on the hotel’s balcony when you suddenly heard a song from back when you were alive. Wait…was that…

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside 

Angel Dust’s eyes widened. “Is that song In Your Eyes?”

A smile stretched across your lips spreading into a dopey grin. It was the perfect match for your currently flushed cheeks. “You know it too Angel?” 

Angel smirked. “Course I do toots! I ain’t that ancient. Cut me some slack would ya?” He joked goodnaturedly. 

You chuckled as well and continued to smile as you heard the lyrics of the song.

In your eyes

The light, the heat

(Your eyes)

I am complete

(Your eyes)

I see the doorway to a thousand churches

(Your eyes)

The resolution of all the fruitless searches

(Your eyes)

I see the light and the heat

(Your eyes) I want to be that complete

I want to touch the light

The heat I see in your eyes

In your eyes

In your eyes

In your eyes

Now where could those lyrics be coming from? It sounds like it could be from some kind of sound system. The grin you had on your face hasn’t slipped once. That song was an absolute classic when you were alive. It came from a famous rom-com after all.

“Uhh, (y/n), you might wanna see this.” Angel Dust said as he peered over the balcony railing.

You stepped forward but you found yourself gripping the railing to calm your quicking heart. “V-vox? Is that really you down there?” You asked, your voice taken down to a breathless whisper. 

Vox immediately looked up at the balcony the second his speakers picked up on your voice. “Heh, hey doll. I take it you like the little surprise?”

“My, my is the annoying little picture box actually using a classic form of music consumption?” Alastor suddenly said, cutting you off before you could respond to Vox. 

Vox’s grin immediately turned sour and he had to prevent himself from destroying the stereo on his shoulder. “Al-bzzt-astor! Would you ju-bbzt shut the hell up! I’m trying to do something here you old outdated fossil!” Vox’s screen kept turning various colors from blue to red and then back to normal as he faced his long-time rival.

Alastor just chuckled as he walked forward from the balcony door and rested on the balcony railing as he looked at Vox with an amused grin. “You know, this seems like a decent little tune but I think it could use a bit of flare. Don’t you think so my dear?” Alastor said as he sent a glance your way.

“Alastor what are you about to do?”

All you got in reply was a simple snap of his fingers and instead of In Your Eyes, the stereo started playing Baby Shark, a newer little tune that some of the younger sinners have been singing lately. 

That was the last straw for Vox. As soon as he heard that tune he buffered continuously and his grip on the boom box became so strong that he split the poor thing in half. “Agh! D-bzzt-amn yo-bzt-u Alastor! Fuck you!” He cursed. 

Vox was damn near close to overheating and almost shut down from his anger until he heard your sweet giggles. “Hey Vox! Don’t worry about it! That was really sweet actually even if a certain someone decided to mess with you.”

Alastor shrugged nonchalantly at your pointed look and with a small wave goodbye, disappeared back into his shadows.

Vox finally calmed down but his screen was glowing a light pink under his eyes as if the TV overlord was blushing. “Really? Heh, of course, Doll. I did this for you after all. In fact,” Vox smirked and tossed the boom box aside. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You felt your cheeks warm at Vox’s confession and it took a light nudge from Angel dust to snap you out of your reverie. “I’d love to Vox!” 

Vox’s smirk widened into a full grin. Maybe coming out to this shitty hotel wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Welp, hope you enjoyed! I know I had fun with this one. Have an awesome day/night my little Rebels!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[cashmakozume]

— seeing double

ᯓ m.list

␥ introductions (oikawa hate club)

⭑.ᐟ warnings: swearing, characters saying 'kms', harsh banter, everyone hating on oikawa, visuals of alcohol

oikawa tooru

— a third year acting major, usually landing the main roles in any school film or play

"i'm the male lead again? i'll do my best, like i always do."

iwaizumi hajime

— a third year sports psychology major, maintaining his gpa to keep his full ride scholarship

"do you really need my help for this? i think you can manage."

sawamura daichi

— a third year law major, the only one who knows how to balance school and life

"party at nine? aight, let me submit my assignment first."

ushijima wakatoshi

— a third year sports psychology major, constantly quoting lectures and memorizing study notes

"you don't remember lecture 5.03? it was the shortest one though."

kuroo tetsurou

— a third year marketing major, believes that he is just learning methods of manipulation

"wanna bet i'll sell this place out? get your wallet ready."

the groupchats / bonus picture!

彡 all of them actually met during orientation during their first year

彡 oikawa never changed ushijima's contact name ever since then

彡 ushijima and iwaizumi actually talk so much shit in their apartment (they made hinata swear on his life that he won't tell anyone)

彡 daichi, kuroo and oikawa usually carpool whenever they have classes at the same time

彡 iwaizumi participates in the most school events so that he can get extra credit (oikawa called him a nerd for that, but we all know what happened to him after)

彡 the five of them rarely meet up, so they don't understand the power all of them hold when they finally do

彡 daichi is the only one with a motorcycle and car license, the rest only can drive cars legally

彡 iwaizumi can cook proper meals and ushijima will eat all of it with no complains, even if it was a tad too salty sometimes (the other three will always ask for meals, but iwa only gives it to daichi bc somehow kuroo and oikawa pissed him off that week)

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ taglist [open]

— @staygoldsquatchling02 @garfieldissocool @krak-jj @yuminako @punkhazardlaw @lacunaanonymoused @bbybibi @spikeandset @theviperess @whosmarjj @froyaoya @wyrcan

[trashmoutth]

When I see you again (Fred Weasley x Reader)

PARTS 1. 2. female!reader, Gryffindor!reader Summary: It takes place during the Second Wizarding War, months after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Reader is on the run after her family has been caught by the Snatchers. Loosely following cannon. Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (mentioned) Characters: Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley (mentioned),George Weasley (mentioned), Ted Tonks (mentioned), Dirk Cresswell (mentioned) Warnings: war, mentions of death, angst, swearing, english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes, capital letters, etc.

—

During the next couple of days there was a strange feeling of excitement in the air. For the first time in a while, you felt like there was something to hope for, like you had a goal. The sudden burst of adrenaline in your veins had you wandering around this old house of yours all day and all night. It was driving Dean crazy, but you didn’t care. He showed you how to replay old PotterWatch recordings, so you had them playing in the background through the day while searching through your grandma’s old books in hopes of finding something helpful.

Dean was being as supportive as he could’ve been, considering he was also aching to get in touch with his parents and sisters, however, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. You didn’t have the same problem. It wasn’t a choice for you.

“I’d tell her that her family is alive and well and desperate for news of her whereabouts. As are quite frankly, all of us here at the PotterWatch”.

When you weren’t replaying the recording, you were replaying those words in your head.

You had to find a way.

There was another resident in the house who didn’t seem to be too keen on contacting the wizarding world. A goblin named Ricbert. He was badly injured and spent most of the time resting. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to risk exposure, not after Dean has told you everything they had to go through to get to a safe house. They were travelling with Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and another goblin named Gornuk. They crossed miles and miles being actively hunted by the Snatchers and Death Eaters. Gornuk has split himself while apparating in a hurry and got captured. Dirk went after him while urging the others to run away, but Ted Tonks would not leave anyone behind. Unfortunately, that resulted in Dean and Ricbert having to fend for themselves.

Listening to that story made you shiver. But if anything, it made you even more determined to stop running and hiding. It wasn’t even just about seeing your family and friends again. It wasn’t just about Fred either. People were fighting for their lives! You couldn’t stay put! You had to do something!

When you weren’t practicing defensive spells, you spent your time obsessively collecting herbs and brewing healing remedies for Ricbert. It made you feel a bit better, being useful to someone. You were trying out all kinds of recipes you thought might come in handy.

You made a batch of Polyjuice Potion, Cure for boils, Antidote to Common Poisons, Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You even tried to make Felix Felicis, but the ingredients for it were way too hard to find even in regular circumstances.

You were brewing so much that Dean eventually had to take you by the hand and force you to sit down and take a break.

“If Snape could see me now!”, you said with a tired smile.

Dean chuckled.

“He’d probably put you in detention for working too hard”.

“Ah, yes! Did you know he actually did do that to me once?”

“What, really?”

“Yeah… I wrote an essay in my third year that was accidentally a little too good. He accused me of using a magical quill and put me in detention”, you rolled your eyes.

“Blimey, what a git!”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ve never tried to work too hard on my homework again!”, you laughed.

It was nice talking to Dean, the two of you became fast friends during your stay in the house. You gave each other space through the day, but in the evenings, you would sit down and enjoy each other’s company. Just like you were back in the Gryffindor common room, chatting about muggle films and sports. You found your grandparents’ stash of Firewhiskey and Nettlewine, so you’d light the fireplace and open a bottle. Ricbert also joined you on occasion.

You tried not to talk too much about PotterWatch, even though that was all you wanted to talk about, and tried avoiding mentioning Fred and George’s name completely. At least until you’ve figured out the way to find them. On the first night, you and Dean went through all the options of how to get in touch with someone from your world. Floo powder was out of question. So was sending and owl, obviously. Most importantly, even if you did find a way to send anyone a message, you wouldn’t know where to send it. Apparating to any location was an unnecessary risk, especially now that you seemed to be perfectly safe and sound for the first time in months. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t want to put Ricbert in danger just because, as he so delicately put one evening,

“You heard your boyfriend mention your name on a radio two weeks ago”.

The word “boyfriend” stupidly made your heart flutter. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, true, but you didn’t correct him. Dean didn’t question it either at the time. However, that evening, after a few glasses of Nettlewine, his curiosity got the best of him.

“So…”, he started, “You and Weasley, eh?”

“Huh?”

“You and Fred Weasley? You’re like… an item, right?”

“What makes you say that?”, you feigned surprise.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, please!”

“No! We are just friends”, you tried to protest, but a small smile escaped your lips and betrayed you.

“Sure you are!”, Dean chuckled, “I also fall asleep every night while listening to recordings of my friend’s voices on the radio”.

“Well maybe you should, it’s very calming”, you teased.

“Besides”, you continued, “How do you know it’s not Georgie I’m listening for?”

“Oh”, he laughed, “You’re right, my apologies”.

“Why do you think they call him Tentacula?”.

He snorted and threw a pillow at you.

“Don’t put images in my head!”

“Well, you’re the one who started this conversation!”, you threw the pillow back at him.

He groaned.

“I was just being nosy, I didn’t want the details!”

“Curiosity killed the hippogriff!”

“Also…”, Dean continued, “Ginny mentioned something to me back when we were dating…”

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“About what?”, you asked as calmly as possible.

“You know… about you and Weasley… Fred, I mean”.

“What did she say?”

Dean looked at you sternly as if what he was about to say is very serious indeed, but then his face stretched into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see your reaction!”

You groaned.

“Oi, Thomas, that was really low!”

“Sorry, better work on your poker face Y/LN!”, he teased you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway. I mean… who knows if I’ll ever see him again”, your voice suddenly turned sad.

Dean’s expression softened.

“You’ll see him”, he said.

You looked at him with teary eyes and gently smiled with gratitude.

“You think so?”, you asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

“Yes”, he replied, “We’ll find a way. But then you have to do it”.

“Do what?”

“Shoot your shot”, he said and threw a pillow at you again.

...

You’ve spent the next couple of days trying to figure out how to bring up your newest plan of sending a message to Fred and George. It seemed like a good plan; the only problem was the fact that you had no idea how to execute it.

“Dean…”, you started one afternoon.

“Yes?”, he asked.

“I’ve figured it out”, you said slowly.

“You have?”, he jumped in excitement.

“Yes… sort of”.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…”, you started, “There might be a way to send someone a message without having to know exactly where they are, I think… but it requires a really powerful witch or wizard to do so”.

“I’m not worried about that part!”, he winked at you.

You laughed bitterly.

“I don’t know, mate. I’ve never been able to do it before… that’s why I didn’t bring it up until now”.

“What is it?”, his voice suddenly got a bit more serious.

You took a deep breath.

“The thing is… you can send someone a message using the Patronus charm”.

“You can?”, he asked in a surprise.

“Yes”, you replied, “I’ve seen it”.

The image of a silver, gleaming lynx with a voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly entered your mind.

“Well, that’s… good news, right?”, Dean asked.

You sighed.

“Yes… and no”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ve never been able to produce a corporal Patronus before… and even if I did it, I have no idea how to get it to send someone a message!”, you said, with slight frustration in your voice.

“Oh…”, Dean said.

“Can you produce it?”

He shook his head.

“No… never been able to”.

“Well… that’s why I didn’t say anything until now… but it seems like it might be the only option we have left”.

He looked at you in disbelief.

“What kind of option is that? We’d have to become able to produce a corporal Patronus, and then we’d also have to somehow figure out a way to make it reach someone else for us… it would take us weeks, months, maybe even years!”

“You have somewhere to be?”, you asked sarcastically.

He sighed.

“No…”

“Well, then… unless you can come up with a better plan, I suggest you roll up your sleeves and start practicing the charm!”, you said in a tone of voice that reminded you a bit of Professor McGonagall.

A similar thought has clearly crossed Dean’s mind, because he smirked at you and said,

“Yes, professor!”

You softened your expression and smiled at him.

The following couple of days were spent by your useless attempts to preform the Patronus charm. When you weren’t whispering, mumbling, or screaming:

“Expecto Patronum!”

you were cooped up in your room, reading your grandmas old books, trying to find anything at all about the Patronus charm. It was hopeless.

To be fair, you managed to produce a glowing, silver shield that danced around the room, but there was no sign of fur, tail, claws, hooves, or anything like that. It was driving you mad, which, obviously, wasn’t helpful while trying to focus on your happiest memories.

One evening, as you were lying in your bed and rewinding old recordings of PotterWatch, a shocking realisation suddenly hit you.

Of course you would not be able to create a Patronus, you didn’t have a memory that was strong enough! All your happiest thoughts were somehow tainted by the fact that you were here, locked inside a safe house, completely isolated from the people that you loved the most. But if you could do it… If you could be strong enough to perform the spell…

You didn’t have a happiest memory because all of them were set in the future! And you held the power to make them into reality!

It was a paradoxical thought, but the realisation made your heart fill up with hope, and perhaps, that could be enough to summon a Patronus!

You jumped out of the bed, in a sudden rush of adrenaline, and raised your wand.

You closed your eyes.

What would make you happy? What is the happiest thing you can think of at this very moment?

An image of your parents glimmered in your mind. They were smiling at you while embracing you into a tight hug.

Then another image appeared. Your friends! George Weasley gifting you one of his infectious smiles and congratulating you on a spell well-done! Lee Jordan, shaking your hand and kissing your cheeks.

A small grin appeared on your lips.

It was working!

Then, you saw his face. Fred.

His flaming red locks and glistening eyes. He reached his hands towards you and pulled you in his arms. You knew his scent all too well. He smelled of cinnamon and fireworks. He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him. You just stood there, embracing. No words were needed.

You felt your heart swell up as happy tears started to fill your eyes. You took a deep breath.

You were almost there!

You raised your wand higher and pictured yourself as exactly the person you wanted to be in this very moment. You were strong enough to summon a Patronus. You were clever enough to reach your friends. You were brave enough to protect Ricbert and Dean. You could do it! You just had to believe in it!

“Excpecto Patronum”, you whispered.

A beam of silver light shot out of your wand. It seemed to be forming into a shape.

Was that a claw? Or maybe antlers?

The beautiful silver light blazing from your wand gave you more confidence, so you repeated, this time more loudly and more clearly,

“Excpecto Patronum!”

This time the light started to form into a shape a lot more distinctively. You watched in an awe as you tried to figure out what animal in reminded you of, still focusing hard on your happy thoughts.

The silver light fell apart once again, but you didn’t get discouraged. You were certain this time you’d do it. You took a deep breath and pictured Fred’s smiling face. His eyes. His voice. His laughter… You’ll see him again! You will! You were so close…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”, you yelled out.

The light shooting out of your wand was almost blinding this time. You squinted as you watched it prance around the room, forming into a shape of a beautiful, silvery creature. After it made a circle around the room it stopped right in front of you, looking at you with its intelligent, glowing eyes. You gasped in awe and reached for it to touch it. You recognized it instantly.

It was a (your Patronus).

You did it!

The realisation made a surge of euphoric sensation shoot through your body.

You fucking did it!

You started laughing. You wanted to call for Dean, but you were worried the animal would disappear if you did that. So, instead, you just stood there, trying to get your brain to start working again. As soon as it did, another thought has crossed your mind.

What now?

That’s right! Summoning a Patronus was only a part of the problem. As happy as you were to have succeeded, you still didn’t know how to fulfil the other part.

What if I just… ask?

it was a silly thought. And yet…

It couldn’t hurt!

You struggled for a moment to find your voice. Your Patronus was still looking at you. It seemed like it already knew what you were about to do.

“Can you… help me?”, you heard yourself say stupidly.

The Patronus blinked.

“I need to send a message… to Fred Weasley. He’s… my best friend. Perhaps you already know that…?”

The animal didn’t move or react in any way that would make it seem like it understood you. You groaned in frustration.

“Well, it was worth a shot”, you mumbled.

The frustration in your voice made the Patronus start to slowly fade out. It made you panic for a moment, but then you let it go.

If you could summon it once, you can do it again!

However, the Patronus didn’t disappear, you realized a second later. Instead, it turned itself into a tiny, floating ball of light that began slowly approaching you. Just when you thought it was about to stop, it went straight inside your neck and nested itself at the bottom of your throat.

“What the…”, you spoke in a surprise.

And then you froze in shock. You could hear your own voice, just like it was magically enhanced by Sonorous. However, you had a strange feeling that if anyone else was around you, they would only see you open your mouth and silently move it like a fish.

“Did I… do it?”, you asked.

You were still hearing your own voice inside your head. That must be it! It must be working!

“Fred…”, you started, “If you can hear me… if this reaches you somehow… I’m safe. I’m in a safe location. I can’t tell you exactly where it is, it’s heavily protected…”.

You thought for a moment about what you should and shouldn’t say. You didn’t want to compromise anyone’s safety if this message was heard by someone else.

“If you can reach my parents, would you tell them I’m okay?”, you asked.

There were so many things that you dreamt about saying to him if you got the chance, and now… it felt like there was nothing on your mind.

“Oh, I’m with Dean Thomas!”, you remembered suddenly, “He’s safe too… we’re with a goblin named Ricbert… Fred…”.

You took a deep breath.

“If you can… try to find me… please”.

Just when you started thinking about how silly that sounded, the ball of light nested in your throat flew out. It reached the middle of the room and slowly transformed back into its corporal form. The beautiful, shimmering animal stood before you once again, only this time there was a little ball of light flickering in its neck. You realised, in amazement, that that was your voice.

“Find Fred Weasley… please”, you said pleadingly.

The Patronus blinked at you once again, like it perfectly understood the assignment you just gave it, and slowly began to fade out.

For a second or two you did not move. You were still a bit unsure that what you just saw really happened. You wanted to call Dean and tell him all about it, but before you could do that, you felt yourself slowly sinking into bed. You were exhausted.

You didn’t know for sure how long you slept. Was it five hours or five minutes. You only knew that in one moment your eyes were shut and you were sleeping, and in another something in the room has made you groan out in frustration.

Did somebody turn on the light?

“Turn… it… off…”, you mumbled as you tried to cover your closed eyes with a pillow.

But it felt like the light was burning through the pillowcase. You threw the pillow away and sat up straight, like someone had just pinched you.

Your eyes widened in shock. Something was in the room with you. Through the haze of sleepiness, it looked like another glowing ball of light, only this ball was a lot larger than the one you had summoned. It made a few circles around the room before it finally settled and landed at the top of the pillow you just threw away. It was a bird. A magpie. A glowing, silvery magpie! It was spreading its shimmering wings and looking at you like it wanted your undivided attention.

Another Patronus, you realised.

Your mouth had gone dry from suspense. Then, the bird opened its silver beak and spoke in the voice of Fred Weasley,

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

Your heart stopped.

—

[corporatefrog]

꒦‧₊ ꒷ Sleepovers w/ Team Stan [Headcanons] ✧.*

✧.* tags: comedy, college au

✧.* Charactions: stan marsh, kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, butters stotch

a/n: I haven't had a sleepover in years and this has made me want to have one with my friends so badly.

masterlist

Monthly sleepovers are a friend group requirement

Cartman is invited on a month by month basis depending on how much of a bitch he’d been in the past month

It’s a great way to keep him in line

“Why do the gays get a pride month and there’s nothing left for us straights?”

“That’s strike 3.”

“WHAT! I didn’t even do anything this month! Who the fuck died and made you king of the sleepover?!”

“Uh- I don’t know. The sleepover behavior etiquette contract that you signed with blood.”

“God fucking DAMMIT.”

You all go to Stan’s usually since it’s outside of town so you can be loud if you want

And get blasted but thats a tale for another time

After the sun sets, the real party begins

Aka eating pizza and talking shit 

“Clyde doesn’t know how to do laundry”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m literally not. I was at Tweek Bro’s and he spilled some of his drink on his shirt and he goes ‘Now I’ve got to throw this away.’ and I almost choked on my drink, I swear to god. I told him he just needed to wash it and he deadass goes ‘How do you do that?’”

Butters gets so much tea just from overhearing it or people complaining to him 

He LOOKS like a nice guy who empathetically listens

But Professor Chaos on the other hand is remembering every juicy detail about what Bebe sai to Nichole at the mall last week 

Just saying- when the gossip girl south park account comes out, you know who’d behind that shit

Just Dance competitions FOR SURE

Butter is a kpop stan i can feel it

Yall do dynamite and he’s DEMOLISHING 

I said before than stan is the type to only move his arm

But that’s totally kyle

Kenny and Stan go ALL OUT 

That guitar hero gave him mad rhythm

But they get so into the full body dancing that the remote doesn’t pick up the right movements and they end up with like 30 points 

They always TRY the tetris one 

But their ambition outplays their actual ability and it ends with them falling into a pile on the floor

I feel like New Girl would be a group favorite binging show 

“Stan you’re so nick miller coded”

“If I’m nick miller, kyle is the most schmidt to ever exist” 

“Schmidt is fucking hilarious so that’s a compliment. Nick is just an alcoholic.” 

“Okay man fuck off you’re just mad that you can’t be winston.”

“Yeah that’s because I’m winston and Butters is Jess.”

“Yn you’re fucking Robbie.”

“Kenny say sike right now before I throw your soda out the window.”

You all DEFINITELY try to play true american 

And it goes TERRIBLY

Why would you play a game where you have to jump from surface to surface with someone prone to dying 

After the 3rd time Kenny falls off a chair you guys stick to uno or some shit

Midnight taco bell adventures 

they know your fucking order and get annoyed whenver you pull through the drive through

Like god these dumb fuckers again

But you give them a nice tip

And feast on the taco bell in the parking lot while laughing at whoever did the dumbest thing during the night

Wonderful vibes, truly immaculate

[medusapelagia]

We are not making sense at all

written for the Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge by @thefreakandthehair

Rating: General Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: Warm Soup WT: Pre-relationship, sickfic, sick character(s), Christmas 1985 WC: 5108

Christmas was never Eddie's favorite holiday, it always reminded him how lonely he was: no family to spend the holiday with, only Wayne who usually worked at Christmas for the double pay. A few times Gareth parents have tried to invite him but he always declined the invitation and buried himself in his trailer, watching silly Christmas movies, eating chips, and drinking beer on the couch like his old man. What a legacy, right?

But this time is even worse: not only he is home alone, but he is also sick. The metalhead has done his best to hide it from Wayne but now that he is finally alone he can’t stop coughing and sneezing and the floor of the trailer is covered in crumpled tissues that he is too tired to throw in the bin, while his neighbors are celebrating playing some Christmas music so loud that the trailer is almost vibrating. He can’t really complain, after all, he is used to playing metal music so he assumes he can endure hearing Jingle Bells for the umpteenth time: what he really can’t stand is the phone that keeps ringing. It seems that every person who knows him has decided to call him to wish him a Merry Christmas, which is probably fair, it’s Christmas after all, but all Eddie would like to do is nap on the lumpy couch while watching some stupid movies about Santa Claus or any other Christmas Miracle. His favorite movie is Little Lord Fauntleroy: even if he is too old to still indulge in such fantasies, he still dreams that one day a rich parent will reach out to him, telling him that he searched for him for years and that he is actually super rich and he can leave Hawkins whenever he wants.

He will take Wayne with him, of course, and he will miss the Corroded Coffin and the Party, but the Corroded Coffin are destined to split up as soon as Gareth and Jeff go to college so he doesn’t feel too bad at the idea of abandoning them.

But that’s just a fantasy. 

Eddie coughs again, while the stupid phone keeps ringing; when he finally gathers the strength to stand up and get to the phone, Dustin’s happy voice wishes him Merry Christmas, asking him how is he going to spend it and telling him that if he wants he can still join him and his family.

Eddie sighs, Dustin doesn’t have a huge family either, it’s just him, his mum, and probably Steve Harrington, and not only he doesn’t want Dustin’s pity, but he is pretty sure he doesn’t want to spend Christmas with Harrington either. And he is sick, which is the perfect excuse to finally shut up the little shrimp.

“Thank you Dustin, but I’m feeling a little bit under the weather, I don't want you to catch any of my germs.” He says, coughing for good measure.

“Oh no! Being sick at Christmas is the worst! One year I got sick and I had to spend Christmas in bed, it was awful! Thankfully Santa still brought me some toys and I could play a little in the afternoon when I felt a little bit better, but waking up with a fever on Christmas day is no fun!” he tells him “Do you need anything? I could ask Steve to drive me to the trailer! I have a few comics that you haven’t read yet.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good, I just need to sleep a little and I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure Steve will not mind.”

In which world Harrington will not mind getting to the Freak’s trailer on Christmas to bring him some comics? 

Eddie chuckles, pretty sure that not only he would mind but he would be really pissed, even if probably he’ll do it if Dustin asks him to. It’s incredible how that little shrimp has both of them wrapped around his finger like two stupid puppets, but no, thanks, Eddie still has enough self-respect “I’m good, I swear. Thank you for offering.” 

“If you are sure…” Dustin finally agrees, even if he doesn’t sound one hundred percent sure about it.

After the call Eddie decides to unplug the phone and gets back to his couch, ready to spend the rest of the day napping and watching television.

***

He must have dozed off for longer than he thought because when he opens his eyes he doesn’t even know what he is watching on the television and the room is way darker than it was. For a moment he wonders if he woke up on his own, but then he hears the insistent knocking on the trailer door and finally gets up to open the door.

“Did you forget the keys, old man?” Eddie asks, convinced that Wayne is the one knocking, but he freezes when he sees that the person on the other side of the door is nothing less than Steve Harrington, fallen school king, ex-jock and richest boy in town.

“Hi.” He says, smiling, holding a Tupperware in his hands “Henderson said you are not feeling well.” But when Eddie doesn’t move he chuckles “Will you let me in or what?”.

Eddie moves from the door and lets the Harrington’s boy enter his trailer. As soon as he turns toward the living room he understands that there is no way he can hide how messy he is: there is a pile of tissues all over the floor, and the remains from his breakfast are still on the kitchen table.

“I… I…” he tries to come up with an excuse but Steve simply smiles.

“It’s ok. You are not feeling well.” He replies, getting closer to the kitchen “Can I have a pot, please?”

Eddie nods and gives him the only clean one that he finds and, even if it’s way bigger than needed, Steve takes it and pours the content of his Tupperware into the pot.

“Claudia made it?” Eddie asks, smelling the tasty soup that Steve is heating.

“Nope. It’s my nonna recipe. It’s a foolproof method against the cold.” He tells him.

“Your nonna made it?”

“Well, the recipe is her, but she died almost ten years ago so I’m the one who actually cooked it. I’m sorry it took a bit, but you can’t rush perfection, right?” Steve smirks and Eddie stares at him, astonished.

“That’s really kind but… why are you doing this?”

Steve shrugs “You know Dustin, right? He was worried about you and made me promise that I would check on you and I agreed.”

“And the soup?”

“It does wonder, you’ll see.” He promises, stirring the soup while Eddie sits on the chair, watching Steve move around with ease: the trailer’s kitchen is really small but Steve seems to find everything he needs even if he has never been there before.

“How can I help you?” Eddie finally asks, feeling like a guest in his own room.

“Can you give me a couple of bowls?” Steve asks, then turns, bushing “Sorry, I just assumed it was ok with you if I eat here but I just realized that I should have asked.”

“No… it’s fine. You cooked, so the least I can do is offer you a bowl and a spoon.”

If the smell isn’t enough, the taste is absolutely delicious, and Eddie is very vocal about how much he likes it, singing Steve’s praises.

“It’s just a warm soup.” He tells him, avoiding Eddie’s stare and preparing a bowl for Wayne to reheat in the microwave.

“It’s absolutely delicious!” Eddie insists. Wayne is a kind man but he is no cook and all they are used to eating are pre-made dinners that he heats in the microwave, so eating a magical soup that will nurse him back to health is something really special to Eddie.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Steve says, cleaning the bowls and what was left from breakfast before Eddie can stop him.

“Would you like to watch a movie with me?” Eddie proposes, then he suddenly feels ashamed “Sorry, I’m sure you have better things to do than staying here with me. You already brought me the soup… and I don’t want you to catch whatever my illness so please ignore me… I don’t know why I asked you…”

“It’s fine. I have a very strong immune system and I don’t have anywhere to be, to be honest: Robin is at his Uncle’s home and I told Dustin that I was coming here so my choices are watching a movie with you or at my place.”

“No date for King Steve?”

Steve chuckles “No, no date Eddie.”

It’s the first time Steve calls him Eddie and it sounds nice.

They sit together on Eddie’s little couch, their knees bump when they sit and Eddie laughs awkwardly, embarrassed to be so close to King Steve “All the movies I have are either western or horror movies, I fear.” He says, kneeling on the floor to look at the pile of VHS.

“It’s fine, I work in a video store, and I’m used to watching every kind of movie.” Stevee replies, making himself comfortable.

They are halfway through an old western when Eddie turns toward Steve, his profile is lit up by the black-and-white movie on the screen.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Mmh?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

***

Somewhere between the second half of the movie, Eddie must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes he is lying on the couch and there is no trace of Harrington anywhere. 

For a moment he wonders if he might have dreamed of him, but his Tupperware is still on the kitchen counter and Wayne is eating the soup.

“Nice boy.”

“Uh?”

“Steve, I think? Chestnut hair and kind smile?”

“Oh, yeah. He came because he knew I was sick.”

Wayne nods “As I said. Nice guy. And good cook.” He concludes, eating his soup.

Eddie nods, getting up and going to sit next to Wayne.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Much better, actually. Steve said it’s the soup. It has some magical properties.”

“Bet it does.” The old man replies, ruffling Eddie’s hair “You know you can tell me anything, right boy?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Wayne nods and turns to clean his bowl.

“What? What are you implying?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Nothing. I’m going to bed, do you want to keep watching the television?”

Eddie shakes his head and goes to bed, still wondering how was it possible that King Steve came to his rescue.

***

Two days later Dustin is at Eddie’s door.

“What?” Eddie asks annoyed, he is not used to waking up so early when he doesn’t have to go to school, that’s what holidays are for: sleep. 

The boy gives him a very serious look before saying “It’s Steve.”

“What about him?”

“I called him and he didn’t answer.”

Eddie sighs “Dustin, he is a young boy, he is probably dating someone and he slept at their place, that’s what older boys do. Now go home and don’t bother me again.”

“No. Not Steve.”

Eddie snorts “If there is someone who is going on dates is definitely your friend Harrington.”

“You don’t get it, Steve always answers. Always. Especially if I call him on the walkie! But he didn’t! Neither yesterday nor today.”

Eddie sighs, pinching his nose “And what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to Steve’s house: you can pick a lock, right?”

“What?! I’m not going to risk two years for break and enter because Harrington fell asleep after fucking someone!” Eddie protests, crossing his arms and glaring at the kid.

“It’s not like that! We just have to be sure he is fine! Robin is not here or I would have asked her! Steve doesn’t have anyone else: just the two of us.” He says seriously and Eddie can’t suppress a smile.

“You are serious, aren’t you?”

“I definitely am.”

Eddie sighs “Ok, I’ll go check on your babysitter, but I want you to go back home, ok?”

“What if he needs help? He had two concussions in the past, I know how to help him and…”

“If he needs that kind of help I’ll drag him to the hospital, but I’m sure he’ll be out with some pretty girl and if you really want me to pick the lock of the richest house in town I don’t want any kid around, is that clear?”

“But…”

“Is that clear?”

Dustin nods, unconvinced, and then glares at Eddie “You call me the moment you find him, ok?”

“I’m telling you he won’t be there.”

“I’m telling you he will be, I checked and his car was parked in front of his house!”

Eddie raises his arms with a sigh “Ok, fine, I’ll call you, ok? Now go, and don’t bike here again! It’s dangerous.”

Dustin nods and gets back to his bike yelling “Call me, Eddie!” one more time before biking back toward his home.

Eddie sighs, gets back inside, puts on his leather jacket, and takes the van keys before driving toward Harrington’s house.

When he gets to Loch Nora he sees Steve’s BWM parked right in front of the house, as Dustin said.

Eddie rings the bell and knocks on the door until his knuckles hurt but none comes open.

“Harrington?” he calls, moving around the house to find an easy way to get in without breaking a window or picking a lock in the middle of the day. He tries every window until he sees that one window on the second floor is ajar. Cursing himself for his poor gymnastic skill, somehow he manages to climb toward the window and get inside, landing on the floor with a loud thump.

The room he is in is definitely Steve’s, even if the boy is nowhere to be seen and the bed is still perfectly made. Eddie moves around the other rooms but Steve is nowhere to be seen, so he gets to the living room to call Dustin to tell him that Steve is probably outside, having the time of his life, when he sees a figure wrapped in so many blankets that looks like a cocoon.

“Harrington?” he calls, and a pitiful voice answers him back.

Eddie runs down the stairs and gets closer to the boy “Hey, Harrington, are you ok?” he asks, but he can feel how hot Steve is even under all the blankets.

“Fuck. I think you got my virus.” Eddie curses, and Steve sneezes as a confirmation “Ok, don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you, ok big boy? Do you have some fever medicine somewhere?”

“Bathroom…” Steve murmurs in a small voice, and Eddie runs upstairs to the bathroom and comes back with a few medicines and a thermometer.

He takes Steve’s temperature, which is way too high, and tries to suggest calling a doctor, but Steve is adamant he doesn’t want to, so all that Eddie can do is help him sip some water and take a few pills.

When Steve falls asleep the older boy calls Dustin, informing him that Steve is sick but that he doesn’t have to worry because he will take care of him and he does, the metalhead helps him drink some hot tea, go to the bathroom and finally convince him to go to sleep in his bed and not on the couch.

“Can I call your parents?” Eddie asks, changing the wet towel on Steve’s forehead.

“They are in Paris. Or Rome. Don’t remember.”

“I can’t leave you alone like that.” 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you are not. Tell me who I can call to keep an eye on you or I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Steve murmurs something that sounds like “Hopper” but Eddie knows that the chief died in the fire at the mall a few months before “I’m serious, Steve. You can’t be left alone like this.”

But the boy is already asleep, so he sighs and goes back to the living room to call Wayne.

“Hey, Wayne.”

“Kid? You ok?”

“Yeah. I’m at Harrington. I think he got my virus but much worse. Do you mind if I keep an eye on him? He is home alone.”

“Not at all, just pay attention.”

“I got sick before, I’m not going to get sick again.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Wayne whispers and Eddie frowns, confused, but doesn’t comment.

When he gets in the kitchen to make himself a sandwich he sees Steve’s nonna recipe on the kitchen table and decides to try to make it.

Eddie has never cooked before in his life, but the instructions are pretty easy: he follows them step by step, and an hour later the same smell of warm soup fills the air. He takes a couple of bowls and gets back to Steve’s room.

“Steve? Wake up. Stevie, come on. You have to eat something.” He tells him while he gently shakes Steve to wake him.

“Mum?” the boy asks with feverish eyes.

“Just me, Eddie.”

“Oh. Eddie. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, you were probably dreaming, am I right?”

The younger boy nods, then looks at the bowl that the metal head is offering him “Is it…?”

“It is. Or at least I think it is. I followed the instructions step by step.” He replies, helping Steve sit up and giving him the spoon, but the boy is shaking so much that Eddie quickly resolves to spoon-feed him, slowly.

“So much for your strong immune system, uh?” the metalhead mocks him, cleaning Steve’s lips with a napkin.

“I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying you are sorry. You are sick and you need a little bit of help, it’s ok to need help sometimes, you know that, right?”

“Shouldn’t. I’m a Harrington.” He replies, covering his eyes with an arm.

“What the hell does that mean? Sorry to break it to you, but you are human, like everyone else.” Eddie tells him, tucking his blankets.

“It’s just a cold.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, but even if it was you have the right to feel like shit and have someone take care of you.” Eddie insists, giving him some water and a couple of pills to lower his fever “And if by tomorrow you are not feeling any better I’m going to call a doctor, even if you don’t like it.”

“I had the soup. I’ll be alright.” Steve replies convinced, his eyes half closed, and Eddie lets him fall asleep, he is not sure Steve will feel better in the morning, but even if he doesn’t he is not going to let him be alone in that big house, he will probably call Dustin’s mum, or Wayne, or some other adult that really knows how to take care of a sick person, for the moment he sits on the floor of Steve’s bedroom, watching his chest rise and fall like and hawk.

***

Maybe it was the soup, as Steve insists, or maybe Steve’s fever just broke on his own with the help of a few pills, but the next day the rich boy looks way better than the night before.

“Told you. That soup is magic. Thank you for  cooking it for me.”

“I guessed your mum cooked it for you every time you got sick, uh?” Eddie asks, giving him the cup of tea he already prepared for him. No coffee or milk after you have been unwell, it’s a core part of Munson’s doctrine.

“Nah. Just my nonna. But she was Italian, so she wasn’t around often.” Steve replies, thanking him for the tea, and sipping it slowly.

“Well, my mum wasn’t around either, but Wayne did his best to make up for it.” Eddie replies, eating some eggs.

“He seems like a good man. We had a little chat when you were feeling under the weather.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to scare you away with his rifle.” Eddie snorts.

“He actually did. Or at least he threatened me that he would have taken the rifle if I didn’t leave, but after I clarified that I wasn’t a thief and that there was some soup for him he became really nice.” Steve sips some more tea and then he asks “How did you know I was feeling unwell?”

“Henderson. He can be really annoying, or persuasive, it depends, in any case he insisted that someone had to check on you. He actually asked me to break into your house! Luckily for me, there was a window ajar in your bedroom and I got in from there.”

Steve smiles “Yeah, Dustin can be annoying but I love him, and don’t laugh at me, I know he is just a kid, but he is like a little brother to me.”

“Yeah. I get it, I think I feel the same, even if I must confess that I was fucking jealous of Steve Harrington. You have no idea how many times he mentions you every day! Steve did that, Steve said this, Steve is going to drive me here and there… Every day he talks about you! You are his fucking hero!”

Steve scoffs, blushing so softly and Eddie can’t avoid wondering if he would blush so sweetly even under the sheets “Dustin and I have some history. I helped him with some… projects. That’s all. I’m not the super cool Dungeon Master that plays his stupid game.”

“Hey! That’s not a stupid game! It’s really hard to be a good DM!” Eddie complains, crunching another cookie and letting the crumbles fall everywhere.

Steve’s hands twitch, getting a towel to clean the table, but in the end, he desists and keeps drinking his tea.

“I don’t doubt it. Dustin tried to explain it to me but I’m too stupid to understand it.” Steve says, avoiding Eddie’s stare, but the metalhead reaches for his hand.

“Hey, you are not stupid. The game it’s complicated, but if you want I can teach you.”

Steve chuckles “Thanks but if I couldn’t understand it on a good day I doubt I’ll understand it today.”

“Still feeling shitty?”

“Not too bad but, yeah, I think I have been better.”

Eddie clicks his tongue “Do you think you’ll be alright if I get back to the trailer? I can be back in the evening but I don’t want Wayne to worry.”

“There is no need for you to come back tonight, I’m feeling so much better.”

“And renounce the opportunity to see cable television on such a huge screen?” Eddie smirks and Steve nods.

“Ok, you can hang out at my place for the holidays if that’s what you were thinking, but I’ll have to go back to work tomorrow or Keith will definitely fire me.”

Eddie agrees, but before leaving he reminds Steve that he is going to get back in the evening “Do you think you’ll feel good enough to have some pizza tonight? There is a new pizza place, Garreth says is sick but I have never been.”

Steve smiles and Eddie can’t help but smile back at him “Pizza sounds good, but no beer for me.”

“Got it!” Eddie replies, getting in the van and driving home.

***

In the evening Eddie goes back to Steve’s house with a couple of pizzas and a six-pack.

“Thank you Eddie but I told you that I wasn’t going to drink beer.”

“Oh, that’s for me.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, are you judging me, Harrington?”

Steve shakes his head while they sit at the table.

“How was your day?” Eddie asks, taking a slice of pizza from the box with his hands and starting to eat it straight away.

“I dozed off on the couch and watched some old movies.” Steve replies, taking a plate to eat his pizza and Eddie feels immediately ashamed for his manners.

“Sorry…” he mumbles with his mouth still full but Steve just smiles.

“You are just like Dustin. I like that.”

“You like my lack of manners?” 

“I like your freedom.” He replies, cutting the pizza with fork and knife, before eating a little piece “My mum was really fond of etiquette, I learned what was the right fork for each food before I was tall enough to get to the table on my own. I would have loved to eat some pizza with my hands, getting my face dirty with tomato sauce or whatever.”

“Oh… we can fix that.” Eddie replies, taking another piece and offering it to Steve “Come on, take it. Take and eat it: with your hands, as a huge fuck you to your family. How does it sound?”

Steve stares at the piece of pizza for a long time and finally takes it from Eddie’s hand, giving a tentative bite, and immediately covering his mouth with the other hand “It tastes better if you don’t cover your mouth.” Eddie winks and Steve lowers his hand, showing a little smudge of tomato sauce on the side of his lips that Eddie cleans with his thumb, before licking it without even thinking about it.

It’s only when he feels Steve freeze that he realizes what he has done and whitens “Fuck. I’m sorry. Wayne used to do it with me and…”

“It’s… it’s ok.” Steve replies, blushing, then he changes the argument “The pizza it’s tastier like this.” He confirms and Eddie beams.

“Told you. That’s part of the sacred Munson’s doctrine.”

“Tell me more about this doctrine.” Steve asks, while he takes another piece of pizza with his hands and Eddie talks about everything: about the game he loves so much, about the Theatre Room where they play, about his opinion on jocks and laundry baskets players “Present company excluded, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

The more Eddie talks with Steve, the more he finds out that the other boy is not half bad. They spend the day chatting and when it’s time for Eddie to get back to the trailer Steve offers him one of the guest rooms “It’s not safe letting you drive after all the beers you drunk.”

“That’s nothing, weren’t you the Keg King?”

“Once, now I’m a big brother and I worry. It’s part of the job description.”

“I’m older than you.” Eddie points out but Steve shrugs and guides him toward the guest room.

“Choose whatever you want.”

Eddie nods and chooses the first room he sees, but when Steve comes into the room to give him towels and toiletries, Eddie grins “Hey, Steve?”

“Uh?”

“What do you think Dustin would say if we became friends?”

“He will be happy, I think?”

“Maybe at the beginning… but I’m sure you know a lot of embarrassing stories about him, and I know a few too, so… what do you say if we exchange intel and we gang upon him?”

Steve smirks “Are you suggesting we torture the little shrimp? Together?”

“He deserves it!”

“He definitely does. He keeps mocking me for my beauty routine.”

Eddie snorts “Do you have a beauty routine?”

“Fuck you, Munson. I don’t want to exchange anything with you.”

“Sorry. Sorry. My fault. I will not mock you, pinkie promise.”

They share a look and then they shake hands.

“Come, sit here. I have so many stories to tell you.” Eddie says, scooting over to make space for Steve on the bed and the chestnut boys lies with him, exchanging stories about how Dustin lost his cat and somehow convinced him to search for it in the woods, while Eddie recalls the first time he saw him in the cafeteria with his signature thinking cap.

“That boy is something, isn’t he?” Eddie asks, and when he doesn’t hear a reply he turns toward Steve, only to find him asleep and gently snoring. He brushes some hair away from his face, covers them both with the blanket and falls asleep in Steve’s comfy bed.

***

One week later none expect it when, on the first day of school after the holidays, Steve goes to pick up Robin and Dustin, and the the jock and the metalhead hug in the parking lot as if they were best friends who haven’t seen each other in years.

“What the hell is happening?” Dustin asks, darting his eyes between the two of them.

Eddie puts an arm around Steve’s shoulder with ease “You wanted us to get closer, didn’t you, Dustin?”

“Yeah but…”

“Well, we did.” Steve concludes “Now get in the car before Robin and I lose another job!”

They are halfway toward Dustin’s house when Steve asks “So: is it true that you farted during the last campaign and you tried to pretend it was the chair?”

Robin snorts and Dustin freezes “It was the chair! And how do you know… oh no… oh no!” Dustin exclaims, his eyes wide with terror “Please, tell me that’s not true! Why did you have to talk about me!”

“You are the only thing Eddie and I have in common, we bonded thanks to you. Aren’t you happy?” Steve winks and Dustin is still grumbling something when Steve leaves him at his house, before driving Robin toward Family Video.

“So. You and Munson, uh?” the girl asks in a cautious way.

“Yeah. It’s nice to have a friend my age, you know?”

She punches Steve’s shoulder “I’m your age, dingus!”

“But you are a girl! He is a boy! It’s different.”

Robin glowers at him “Steven Joseph Harrington, did you replace me with Eddie the Freak Munson?”

“Never! You are my best friend. Eddie is just… different. It’s easy to talk with him, you know? And he is very funny, he makes me laugh a lot and we have a great time together.”

“Talking, uh? And what about Heidi?”

“Oh, we were supposed to go out on a date but Eddie wanted to hang out and… what? Don’t look at me like that!” Steve complains, turning into the Family Video parking lot.

Robin sighs, gets their uniforms from the back and sighs“I’m glad you finally found a special friend.”

“Come on. I just made him my nonna’s soup when he was sick. It’s not like it means something.”

Robin takes her uniform, but before closing herself in the bathroom to change she turns to say to him “If you are going to be kissed by a boy before I get kissed by a girl I’m going to be super pissed!”

And Steve stares at the bathroom door, confused, that’s not what it is! It’s just a friendship! Right?

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream is viewing a blue starry void, with Leo sitting against something, kinda in a lounging position.

His model is dressed in dark blue space themed leggings, a plain oversized blue hoodie, black socks, and his mask with star patterns on the tails. He's playing through the early parts of Dreamlight Valley.

"So, I have to complete like a million odd quests to unlock every character, but I still have to wait multiple days for certain ones to actually be unlockable." Leo says as he has his character run around doing random tasks to collect enough 'glimmer' to unlock the next area. "This is a cozy game, but you have to go through so much story before you can really relax. Then you move onto the DLC!" Leo jokes as he goes back to Scrooge to complete a quest. He turns his head upwards as if trying to look at someone behind him who just asked a question.

"Huh? Oh, 'Is there any character I want to unlock most?' Yeah, the little Blue Alien Stitch! Though I looked up how to unlock him, and it can take Ten real life days to unlock him, and I need to finish unlocking Donald first." He says while running off to cook some food to keep his energy bar yellow. "This is part of why it's hard to think of Dreamlight as a cozy game. And yeah, some other cozy games can be more hectic, but needing to wait multiple real world days for progress to continue can be hard. On my patience at least, the wait is driving me nuts."

Leo stretches out a bit before snuggling back into what he's sitting on. Then lets out a slight off, and looks down at his stomach area with a smile. Light churrs can be heard over the mic, along with a laugh that was definitely not Leo, or recognizable as any of the Turtles. Leading to a slight frenzy in the chat.

Though the moment is interrupted by an alarm noice. Leo leans over to grab what is apparently his phone. "Oh, nice, I can now safely take some more medicine." He moves forward a bit, "Hey can you grab my stuff from the over there?" He askes someone who is in the room with him. He's watching the person, "The one with the blue grumpy face... hmm? Sure. Use the one called 'Calm the Dragon', yeah it's a newer blend we made. I have to keep April and Cass from stealing my stash." Leo lets out a laugh while still watching the person, listening to whatever is being said.

The person came back and handed Leo his medicine, and a mug of tea. Leo toses the medicine in his mouth and drank from a different container than the mug in his hand.

"Can you move that small table over here, gotta let the tea sit, and I don't want to be holding it the entire time." Leo asks, then placed the mug down, and got back into the position he was in before. "I swear if it weren't for a few personal reasons, I'd get rid of this curse."

"A Curse? Is that what you call it?" The person asked. The audience is confused on why the person could be heard then, but not before.

Leo turns around, "Well I can't think of something creative right now. Now just let me get through this. I need to mess around with some stuff to get this quest to complete."

After a few minutes of collecting random items, and moving furniture around for the quest, Leo pauses to grab his tea, and takes a long sip then lets out a sigh.

"We haven't finished the package design for this just yet, but it definitely will be available to buy soon you guys." Leo once again snuggles back, and just enjoys his tea while the 'stream friendly' music from the game plays. He almost forgets to continue playing because he wants to just bask in the moment and relax.

After about an hour more Leo puts the stream into BRB to freshen up, and grab a quick meal, with Usagi who was hanging out with him all stream. Acting as a very comfy living hot water bottle.

----------------

Masterpost

I had only a very small part of this actually thought out, then just winged it.

[antialiasis]

Chess (2018 Kennedy Center revival)

So I was just going to briefly mention all the other different versions of Chess I have consumed in the big essay post I’ve been writing on and off, but there was just too much to say about this one which made it really awkward to fit it in, so fine, here is another individual chesspost. Nearly 7500 words of rambling under the cut, oh my god.

This production represents the latest official full overhaul of Chess. It sports an all-new book written by Danny Strong, also known as the actor who played Jonathan on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is some whiplash (Sarah Michelle Gellar is apparently a big Chess fan, too). It was later staged again as a concert with some further modifications in 2021, but I listened to an audio bootleg of the 2018 version. (There exist some videos of it online, but only scattered bits.)

The Story Changes

This version has London’s basic plot structure with the distinctive two chess tournaments (this time four years apart, which is neither the original number nor the actual number of years between world chess championships), but rearranges Act I, adds a lot more quippy dialogue and swearing, reinterprets the characters, and recenters real-world politics in the whole thing — sort of the exact inverse of what Chess på svenska did with the material. It opens with “Difficult and Dangerous Times” to set the scene in the Cold War and features the Arbiter narrating with sardonic omniscient commentary between songs/scenes throughout, which does feel a bit more consistent than the Arbiter suddenly having a narrator role for the duration of one song in Act II.

All the main characters in this version are reinterpreted with significant new background context, which is a very interesting way to rewrite it that I definitely dig in principle. For example, Florence’s first scene here involves Walter threatening her with deportation from the US unless she can make Freddie behave for the duration of the tournament. Most versions of Chess make the political scheming very symbolic and vague — exchanges of mostly unnamed political prisoners or handwaved concessions — but this version is noticeably specific, with specific nuclear arms treaty negotiations that the CIA believes would be negatively affected if Freddie keeps openly antagonizing the Soviets. She tells Walter to go fuck himself (told you it adds more swearing) and that nobody can control Freddie Trumper, but ultimately she doesn’t have much of a choice but to reluctantly play along. This addition recontextualizes her character and her interactions with Freddie in Act I a fair bit — it’s pretty significant, after all, that she is under threat and may lose her home if she doesn’t somehow control what she really can’t.

Meanwhile, Freddie himself here suffers from a full-on mental illness which he takes medication for. Walter asserts on a phone call early that they’re dealing with a “genuine paranoid schizophrenic”, but then later calls him a “bipolar bitch”; I take the blatant inconsistency combined with the obviously insulting nature of these remarks to mean probably we’re not meant to take either of them at face value, but these two lines from Walter are the only ones suggesting any specific diagnosis. (I unfortunately suspect Danny Strong didn’t have a specific condition in mind and research it so much as just slap him with a Generic Ambiguous Mental Illness for which he takes Pills.) One way or another, Freddie’s ambiguous mental illness gives him bouts of intense paranoia, driving him to do things like trashing his and Florence’s hotel room to look for listening devices at one point. Florence keeps insistently, frustratedly telling him to just take his goddamn pills even as he’s in genuine distress; it’s pretty uncomfortable, and also definitely one of those things that are at least more human when his episodes could cost her the only home she has: she’s desperate and in distress too.

(I do kind of feel as if this whole bit would make more sense if Florence and Freddie had a strictly business relationship here to start with, instead of being explicitly portrayed as a couple — when they have a committed intimate partnership going on, one would think Florence getting deported would also be pretty obviously significant for Freddie, and Florence quietly playing along with the CIA and crossing her fingers that she can indirectly coax him into behaving with seemingly no serious thought given to whether it’d be better to just tell him why he needs to stop feels stranger. The scene with Walter sounds like Walter/the CIA are not aware of their romantic relationship and Florence wants to keep it that way — they both refer to Freddie strictly by his full/last name and as “her player” — so I guess Walter would have assumed she wouldn’t tell him, but surely the calculus would at least look a bit different to Florence herself. Even if it just prompts her to realize Freddie would still be liable to react by becoming even more erratic and vocal about his paranoias, that feels like it’d be significant enough, at least for her feelings on this relationship going forward, that it never actually coming up or being suggested within the story starts to feel marginally odd. Not a major complaint, though, just a bit of overthinking.)

Freddie in general is noticeably portrayed much more sympathetically here than usual throughout. Where other versions of Chess tend to present Freddie as an attention-seeking drama queen who plays up ludicrous arbitrary demands for money and press, here things like his walkout from the first chess game are made to come from a much more genuine place: he has major sensory issues and is intolerably thrown off balance by distracting noise and lights (which really are deliberately arranged to sabotage him). “Florence Quits”, the song with the misogyny verse, usually reads as being triggered by his jealousy and inability to accept that Anatoly’s just playing better than him, but this version makes it feel more about how he feels persistently gaslit about the ways he’s being sabotaged than anything else: he accuses the Soviets of having a hypnotist in the front row to throw him off (which they do, and Freddie literally saw him and recognized him) and Florence of working for the CIA (which she has been, if not by choice) while they deny it and brush it off, and the tense opening notes of the song play under him desperately yelling “You’re lying to me! You’re all lying to me!” (Which doesn’t make the misogyny okay, obviously, but it does make it feel more like a desperate, paranoia-fueled lashout where you don’t know how much he really means all that.)

When he subsequently forfeits the match against Anatoly, he makes a speech that sounds absolutely despairing where he says chess has been taking a toll on his health since he first became champion at eleven years old, and he doesn’t feel he can trust anyone, even himself. In Act II, before “The Interview”, he even actually apologizes to Florence for how he treated her; heck, his motivation for going so hard after Anatoly in “The Interview” itself is portrayed as being that he is genuinely disgusted by Anatoly leaving his family so callously (which is a lot of fun given Freddie’s own issues about his father leaving him and his mother behind) and wants Florence to hear the truth about what a despicable man he is, which is still unpleasant to her but clearly comes from a much more sympathetic place than either simple spite or reluctantly complying with Walter’s orders.

As for Anatoly… he was taken from his parents when he was a small child to be groomed by Molokov and the KGB into becoming a chess champion, and he’s well aware from his very first scene that the state had killed the previous Soviet champion after Freddie unseated him. (Freddie excoriates the press early on for not covering why the former champion disappeared off the face of the Earth because they’re too busy bashing Freddie, which sounds like paranoia, but the narrative has actually told us Freddie is right and they really did execute him but no one but Freddie seems to notice or care — another way in which Freddie is jarringly sympathetic here. In general, Freddie is portrayed as paranoid, and the other characters treat him like he’s just paranoid, but the narrative keeps proving Freddie’s paranoia right.)

Anatoly, though, isn’t afraid of the same fate, because “The state cannot execute a man… that is already dead.” (This general sentiment could press my buttons, but it just feels super corny and melodramatic the way it’s presented and performed, especially with that dramatic pause in there.) He is deeply depressed, thinks his marriage to Svetlana is fake and his kids hate him, and says repeatedly in Act I that he hates chess and just wants to be free of it, though he also describes a particular championship match he watched as the only time he’s felt love. At the end of Act I, he defects to the UK along with Florence as usual (his defection fully blows up the treaty Walter was worrying about despite Anatoly’s victory, so Florence’s refugee visa is indeed revoked, and that’s why they end up in the UK). Theoretically he should be free of chess now, but it bothers him intensely that he only won by forfeit (here they never finished playing a single match), resulting in him returning to defend his world champion title, and win it ‘properly’, four years later in Bangkok against Viigand.

Unknown to Anatoly, by Act II, after the election of Ronald Reagan, the Soviets are extra on edge and believe a planned NATO military exercise is actually the US mobilizing for a full-scale invasion of the Soviet Union. Walter tries to convince Molokov it’s just an exercise; Molokov insists unfortunately the generals are going to believe it’s an invasion and be ready to retaliate unless Viigand wins the championship (if Viigand wins they will take it as a ‘sign of goodwill’ from the US, which will change their minds on the apparent invasion because, uhh, unclear). Throughout Act II, the larger stakes in this version are set up to be that if Anatoly should win the match, the Soviets are liable to start a nuclear war.

Does Walter go to Anatoly to frankly tell him that apparently the Soviets have lost their minds and are basically threatening nuclear war over a chess match and try to convince him to throw on that basis? Does Molokov realize that if he’s telling Walter to go rig the chess match so the generals will call it off, he clearly doesn’t actually believe that the US is about to invade, so probably he should be trying to convince the generals not to go for the nuclear option himself? No, of course not; this is Chess, so we have to have the songs that are in Chess. So instead, Walter and Molokov just go through the same indirect schemes as usual to unbalance Anatoly and convince him to throw the game, with some minor twists. Molokov actually actively threatens Svetlana with being sent to a gulag to die if she doesn’t convince her husband to return — and Svetlana does straight-up tell Anatoly this, only for Anatoly to brush her off and tell her they won’t do that. Florence learns the same from Walter and initially dismisses him, and fully doesn’t believe him about her father being alive, but does ultimately sympathize with Svetlana and worry for her, which I like. But Anatoly is obsessed with winning this championship above all else and fully convinced Molokov is bluffing.

In the end, he plays the game to win, oblivious to the nuclear threat; as he checkmates, Walter makes a desperate phone call to his superiors to call off the training exercise. (Why he didn’t just do that immediately when Molokov told him the Soviets were taking it as an attack, instead of spending all this time playing along with this elaborate chess mind game, is a mystery.) Only… they don’t, and the Soviets watch with their fingers on the nuclear button, but ultimately they don’t fire. The Arbiter’s narration informs us this was the closest the world ever came to destruction, even closer than the Cuban missile crisis, and that this then served as the wake-up call that prompted negotiations about nuclear deescalation.

Anatoly, meanwhile, returns to the Soviet Union as usual, this time successfully exchanging himself for Florence’s imprisoned father, and Walter gives Florence and her father visas so that they can return to the US together.

Broad thoughts

I feel profoundly weird about the mixing of real-life history and completely fictitious alternate history here — you can’t just assert in narration that the fictional events in your musical were what taught the US and Soviet Union that maybe they should just talk to each other, while making a specific comparison to an actual thing that really happened, after spending the musical asserting that the Soviets murdered chess players for losing the world championship. I think mixing history and fiction can work fine if we can imagine that for all we know this is what really happened, or alternatively that this is what might have happened in some alternate universe similar to but distinct from ours. But here, we’re creating highly significant and publicized events that are obviously fictional, making it absurd to pretend this is what really happened, while also presenting these fictional alternate-universe events in objective hindsight narration alongside real events that happened in the real world and as a supposed cause of them. This ending narration just feels like it’s weirdly trying to have its cake and eat it too.

All in all, though, I think this is definitely one of the most interesting efforts to rewrite Chess. It definitely has something it’s going for, there are several neat ideas in it, and in particular I appreciate that it tries to give extra attention to the characters, more context to their actions, and more messy, humanized depth, inner conflict, and complicated motivators and stressors behind what they do. I genuinely enjoy what it’s doing with Freddie in Act I, in particular, even though it feels somehow both jarringly like it’s woobifying him (I genuinely think he ends up coming across as the most sympathetic of the three mains here, with so much of his erratic, childish and unpleasant behaviour being recontextualized to be more understandable and the way his hatred of the Soviets keeps being validated by the narrative) and like the narrative is weirdly harsh on him (this much more sympathetic Freddie who suffers from an actual mental illness is treated like absolute irredeemable scum by every other character including the fourth-wall-leaning narrator, even more than usual).

I also think the restructuring of Act I was pretty solid for the most part, though there’s definitely some awkwardness, like how Freddie’s expanded encounters with the press sort of clumsily repeat the same beats a bit. On the one hand, I can get what Danny Strong was going for in choosing to introduce everyone first and then go into “Merano” instead of doing several minutes of narrative meaninglessness before the main characters are even introduced; on the other hand, that kind of just half-defeats the sole original purpose of “Merano”, which is to provide a very jaunty more stereotypical musical theater song so that Freddie can be introduced via barging in and interrupting it with his very different vibe, and if I were Danny Strong I would definitely have just removed “Merano” at that point. But the “Difficult and Dangerous Times” opening works great, and it nicely avoids the “almost nothing of note happens for nearly forty minutes” and “several meaningless fluff songs in a row” problems of the London script, introducing conflict and stakes early and keeping the narrative going.

Ultimately, though, a lot of what it’s trying to do doesn’t quite come together to me, and some of it is variously misguided or just strange.

The Politics

To start with, I can definitely get wanting to emphasize the role of Cold War politics in the narrative, and I basically enjoyed the increased political focus and higher stakes in Act I — but I don’t think making Anatoly unwittingly almost start a nuclear war works here, or fits properly into this narrative at all. The Soviet generals have to be holding idiot balls; Molokov has to be holding an idiot ball; Walter has to be holding the biggest idiot ball of all; and most importantly, the ludicrously massive stakes being pasted on top of the match despite none of the main characters even knowing about it means we zoom thoroughly out of the character drama of the situation: “Endgame” just becomes grotesquely trivial with that hanging over it without Anatoly’s knowledge, rendering the actual drama of the climactic song completely irrelevant to what’s really at stake.

I also dislike, in a version that emphasizes the politics, how distinctly slanted it is. One of the things that I like in the London strain of Chess is that Walter and Molokov are both slimy, manipulative bastards in different ways, both sides’ political actors cruelly toying with the lives of the players for their own impersonal ends; the righteousness of each state as a whole doesn’t really matter to this story, only the impact that the whole conflict and the mutual scheming has on the main characters’ lives. But in this version, the Soviets and Molokov are cartoon villains who literally abduct children to force them into chess camp and then murder them if they don’t win the world championship, while Walter may be a condescending asshole who’s willing to threaten Florence but is distinctly the ‘good guy’ in his interactions with Molokov, which comprise most of his screentime, especially in Act II. Walter even gets a humanizing moment where he explains he has a nine-year-old son and has nightmares about him suffering a nuclear winter (Molokov, meanwhile, tells Walter in Act I that Anatoly is like a son to him but could not more obviously not care about Anatoly at all when he proudly presents his new champion material Viigand in Act II). I just find it really detrimental to Chess’s narrative to make it about Soviets Bad, US Good, and more so the more you focus on that — to whatever extent you highlight the politics in this story, it should be done in a way that’s about how the political machinations of the Cold War impact the character drama at the center of it, and it’s distracting when instead you make it into a loosely related B-plot about Walter’s desperate diplomatic efforts to stop the evil Soviets from destroying the world with their shortsightedness.

I think a successful more politically-focused Chess could definitely exist, but I think it’s always going to function best if Walter and Molokov feel at least narratively like just about equal scumbags. It’s not even impossible to imagine nuclear weapons and mutually assured destruction coming up in the course of it — but it needs to be using that to make us enraged at all of this on behalf of Anatoly/Florence/Svetlana/Freddie, not enraged at Molokov on behalf of Walter.

The Character Work

Meanwhile, I do basically like the setup and recontextualization done for all of the main characters in Act I, but unfortunately none of them quite delivered as well as I hoped in the end.

Let’s start with Florence. I actually quite liked the deportation threat, putting Florence herself under personal pressure in a way she usually isn’t. I dig characters being put through the wringer and making decisions under stress. But the story doesn’t quite do anything with that other than using it as silent context behind her early interactions with Freddie and technically as the reason she and Anatoly move to the UK offscreen. We don’t, for instance, ever see Freddie learn that that’s why she moved or that he was unwittingly indirectly responsible for that, or otherwise address that in any way, and as far as Florence in the rest of the story is concerned, it might as well never have happened — we never see her having any kinds of feelings on it, or even confronting Walter about that nasty little part he played in her life when she meets him again (she doesn’t even comment on it when he offers her the chance to go back to the US at the end!). To an extent this is, of course, because Florence being deported was never originally part of the story of Chess, so of course it doesn’t come up in any song or have any significant specific impact on the core series of events — but if you’re going to add it in at all, you really ought to be taking that somewhere in the rest of your additions that isn’t just briefly handwaving that she gets to go back at the end.

Like Long Beach, this version brings Florence’s father back at the end — but unfortunately, it feels really unearned here. Compared to other London variants, it actually ditches the bit of “The Deal” where Florence is tangibly emotional and riled up by Walter’s offer of her father — she fully dismisses the idea of her father being alive as bullshit, and instead it’s Svetlana who moves her to have doubts when she sees her begging Anatoly to return on video and realizes Svetlana still loves him. I do really like that, by itself, and it’s probably my favorite thing about this version’s portrayal of Florence; her empathizing with Svetlana to the point of feeling genuinely guilty for having taken her husband from her, and believing maybe the right thing to do would be if he went back to Svetlana for her sake, is actually very good, serves as a great lead-in to “I Know Him So Well”, and makes Florence’s character feel far more sympathetic in a production where she’s otherwise pretty lacking in that department. But it leaves us with no emotional connection whatsoever to Florence’s father — we’ve only heard her mention him twice before Walter’s offer, very briefly, in Act I, and not really with any sense that she misses or is all that invested in him. Seeing her reunite with him means nothing for her or her arc; it just comes out of left field, and winds up being another thing slanting this version towards Good Guy Walter, Bad Guy Molokov, what with Walter offering her visas back to the US for both of them seemingly out of the goodness of his heart.

It would have been possible to actually build up to this in a way that would make it satisfying. Florence and Anatoly have several conversations; we could have used some of those to have Florence actually talk about her father and how she feels about him being gone, and that could have been part of building up her relationship with Anatoly, made it meaningful that Anatoly’s parting gift to her is to ensure her father’s return. I suppose Danny Strong’s thought process may have been that if he built up Florence’s father too much, that should become her main concern once Walter brings that into it, and he wanted her concern to be about Svetlana instead, which I guess is fair; it also means Anatoly only really has to dismiss the potential harm to one other person in his obsession with winning the game. But if you do make the decision to not build up her father, then bringing her father back is not an ending that makes any sense, and there was no need to do this — they could have easily cut out all suggestion of her father being alive entirely and it would only have made things smoother. I think the only reason she gets her father back in this one is in some hasty effort to make Florence’s ending less bleak, but because it doesn’t have any emotional resonance, it’s just not the right way to do that here.

Speaking of Florence and Anatoly, the romance here… once again has some neat, interesting things it’s going for but doesn’t quite come together as a whole. The two of them do have some actual conversations where they bond a bit, which is already a marked improvement over the default London script — but their very first conversation features Anatoly asserting out of nowhere that Florence has “a way of brightening his spirit”, despite not even knowing her, which isn’t super convincing and just comes off kind of creepy-awkward. Florence asserts a few times that he’s sweet and kind, but we don’t really see much of him actually coming across as sweet or kind — his lines tend to be either melodramatic or sardonic moping interspersed kind of jarringly with awkward jokes. He’s less charming or sweet and more like a lonely, kicked dog, which is fine if Florence is into that but doesn’t quite make her descriptions of why she likes him ring true.

This production actually goes back to the concept album a bit when it comes to Florence and Anatoly — namely, more than political manipulation and external pressures forcibly tearing them apart from the outside, there’s a more substantial internal tension between them as Anatoly genuinely simply prioritizes winning the chess match over her and dismisses her as she tries to question him about Svetlana. The two approaches can both work but do different things for the narrative; this internal approach puts more focus on the personal conflict and character drama and makes the relationship more interesting, which is definitely good, and in principle I think this is built up to in a pretty solid way here — Anatoly, raised to become a chess champion to the exclusion of all else, being maddened by the notion of not actually beating Freddie in Act I and needing to prove he deserves the championship to himself in Act II before he can feel “free from chess” works as a coherent reason for him to be so strikingly, unhealthily obsessive about it.

But I think the biggest problem is that Florence and Anatoly individually don’t hit well enough as characters to create investment in them. Florence is ultimately not developed enough and mostly just acts kind of unpleasant, especially to Freddie, all the way up until that Svetlana bit in Act II. More importantly, I just can’t like or understand or sympathize with Anatoly at all, beyond recognizing that core of what his arc is going for. Part of it is probably down to the writing of his lines, which I’m just not a fan of in general. I already named one example from his first scene. Here’s how Anatoly and Florence’s very first conversation starts:

ANATOLY: It’s not his fault. This game drives us all crazy. FLORENCE: I’m fine. Aren’t you even a little bit scared? ANATOLY: Of Trumper? FLORENCE: No, that they’ll kill you if you lose. ANATOLY: Oh. To quote the great Leo Tolstoy, “Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six.” FLORENCE: What does that mean? ANATOLY: I don’t know exactly, but it is very Russian.

I just don’t find this dialogue very convincing. Why is he reciting a dramatic irrelevant quote if he doesn’t know what it means and just thinks it’s “very Russian”? It feels like a generic quippy exchange off a snarky TV show. Does Anatoly use humour to cope with his situation? Not really; this is pretty much the only time he says anything that might be taken as that. This feels like a joke that’s there only to get a laugh out of the audience, not because Anatoly would actually tell it — and consequently, it doesn’t tell us anything real about Anatoly. Meanwhile, Florence responds to this with “Oh, you’re funny,” as if that’s one of the reasons she falls for him when I would decidedly not name that as a character trait he has. I feel like most of his dialogue just doesn’t have a great sense of character — in stark contrast to Freddie, who oozes character. I can’t get a good sense of who he is and how he thinks. He’s just there. And this also makes it harder to see what Florence sees in him and believe in the relationship.

Moreover, this Anatoly just comes across as kind of a terrible person, not in the fun coherent intentional way Freddie is a terrible person but in a flat, confusing and kind of unintentional-seeming way. Svetlana here is actually really sympathetic, with lovely little additional bits of dialogue that make her feelings hit harder (her voice as she tells Anatoly that “You left us!” breaks my heart), and this is possibly my favorite version of Svetlana in any Chess. But Anatoly is really, really terrible to her, by which I don’t even mean the cheating on her but the bit where he keeps angrily insisting to her face that she never loved him and she brainwashed their children to hate him and of course they’re not going to kill her (hey, Anatoly, guess who’s already well aware that the Soviet government in this universe is not above executing people over chess?).

And even that could be made understandable, given his situation — he could just be in hard denial about it because the thought of them having been suffering with him gone and being punished for his actions is so horrific he just shuts it down — but there’s never any sense that that’s what’s really going on. We don’t see him privately upset about the possibility later, for instance — he just keeps insisting the same and dismissing Svetlana to Florence, too. We know it’s not that it’s true — we see Svetlana admit to Molokov that even though he ruined her life and she never wants to see him again she still loves him, and we hear her sing “Someone Else’s Story” and “I Know Him So Well”. Nor do we ever get any hint at exactly what Svetlana or his kids did to make him think this of them, if anything (his own kids!). Anatoly just seems to sort of bitterly, adamantly believe this for no reason at all. And that makes it impossible to empathize with. Okay, sure, Anatoly, you were taken from your family as a child, but that really doesn’t even start to explain any of this. There could have been ways of making it feel at least believable, tragic in a deeply fucked-up way, but the story here just doesn’t do the work. And once again, Anatoly being so unpleasant for no reason just makes it harder to feel at all invested in his relationship with Florence or sad when they part.

The best fix here isn’t quite obvious, and I can’t say I envy Danny Strong trying to put all his neat little ideas together and make them work. If Anatoly were to appear substantially conflicted about Svetlana and put any real stock in Molokov’s threat, that would render “Endgame”, where he doubles down anyway, kind of jarring and inexcusable as he’d be not just refusing to return to her but refusing to care if she is killed. So in order for this to properly work with “Endgame”, he probably does need to be very deep in denial about whether they’d really kill her. I think what I would do, if I were writing this plot where groomed-as-a-chess-champion Anatoly knows the Soviets killed Boris Ivanovich and they’ve threatened to kill Svetlana too, is to emphasize better how irrational Anatoly is being and try to show it more as a consequence of growing up among the constantly plotting KGB.

Let him go off on a proper paranoid rant to Florence about the reasons why he thinks Svetlana is just plotting against him, and some innocuous things he saw his kids do once that mean she brainwashed them. When Florence tries to challenge him on how batshit he sounds, he just storms out, saying she’s being taken in by their lies and just wants to sabotage him, and disappears — and she doesn’t see him again until he appears at the final game and plays this manic, desperate match while insisting to himself that Svetlana and Florence both just never understood him and hated his success. Afterwards, we can perhaps see him finally, quietly asking Molokov if they’re really going to kill her, showing that on some level he already knew the threat might be real and had just firmly blocked it out (in the actual ending as it is Molokov simply tells him unprompted that she really will be punished unless he comes back, and he just asks why with no addressing of his previous adamant insistence that that wouldn’t happen). His and Florence’s final conversation could then involve a bit more of a reckoning with that and with what his relationship with Svetlana was really like, through a more honest lens.

I’m actually pretty tickled by this scenario because that would really drive home a pretty fun parallel between Anatoly and Freddie — which in hindsight I think this version must in fact have been trying for, but didn’t quite do in a focused enough way for it to really hit. Anatoly and Freddie are both chess players with deeply abnormal childhoods and bouts of paranoia that cause them to behave in toxic ways, which ultimately drives Florence away from both of them.

This production shows the first chess game as the “Chess Game” instrumental playing under Freddie and Anatoly having alternating inner monologues about the game and their issues, deliberately drawing a comparison between the two of them; they both say they hate chess, that they don’t feel like real human beings. It’s not exactly subtle, but I liked the way this was used to build up their respective brain gremlins and was intrigued by the parallel being set up. I didn’t feel they ultimately did much with the parallel, though, because the story then didn’t really continue leaning into it much from there. By emphasizing this Anatoly’s paranoia as paranoia and not just as him legitimately thinking the marriage was never real and the KGB wouldn’t kill her, we could properly build the story around that parallel, and I would genuinely dig that.

The one place after the chess match where the actual thing does sort of try to get at the Anatoly/Freddie parallel again is in the dialogue scene that precedes “Endgame”. This scene is not sung (though it has the “Chess Game” instrumental in the background, which connects it neatly to that previous bit comparing the two of them), but it’s clearly based on “Talking Chess”: Freddie approaches Anatoly to tell him Viigand’s weakness lies in his King’s Indian Defense, and:

ANATOLY: Why are you helping me? FREDDIE: Jesus Christ! Am I the only one who cares about this game? ANATOLY: It’s more than a game now. There is so much more at stake than who wins or loses. FREDDIE: No! No, winning is everything. Fuck politics! Fuck the KGB, fuck the CIA, fuck them all! We are the ones who have dedicated our lives to chess. We are the ones who have given up everything for greatness — our childhoods, our sanity, our loves. Anatoly, we’ve sacrificed everything. They’ve sacrificed nothing. What’s the number one rule of a chess champion? ANATOLY: Play to win. FREDDIE: As long as you do that you can never lose, even if you do.

Much as I love “Talking Chess”, though, this on the surface similar scene just didn’t feel right in this context when I listened to it. In Anatoly’s last scene here, he told Florence firmly that he just wanted to win and that his marriage with Svetlana was never real and it’s all KGB mind games. Him going “It’s more than a game now, there’s so much more at stake” suddenly now comes out of nowhere — if he believes that now, it could only be if he actively reconsidered something offscreen, but he doesn’t say anything elaborating on what he’s thinking now or what he might have reconsidered or why, just that vague, generic line that contradicts everything he’s expressed up until this point. It’s another example of Anatoly’s dialogue just feeling really flat and meaningless to me — his lines here don’t say anything, just serve as vague filler to prompt Freddie onward. And because unlike London proper the setup leading up to this is all about him already being absolutely determined to win the game at all costs, this just feels redundant, unnecessary, going through the motions of something that’s in London without realizing that with the changed context it doesn’t quite make sense anymore.

I think that’s unfortunately the case with Freddie a bit here too. I enjoyed Act I’s quite different take on Freddie, and his establishing narration for Act II petulantly stating Anatoly won the championship last year “by forfeit, I might add”, and “The Interview” is recontextualized in a very fun way as I mentioned before — but after that it feels like Danny Strong doesn’t quite know what to do with Freddie anymore and just has him sort of arbitrarily go through the motions of London in a way that doesn’t necessarily hang together with everything he’s established of Freddie so far. It made sense that this Freddie, despite being decidedly hostile towards Walter and the CIA, conducted the interview to show Florence what a bastard Anatoly is — he’s not doing it for Walter, he’s got his own reasons to want to do it once Walter’s shown him the Svetlana video. But I find it a lot harder to swallow that this Freddie — whose usual problem seems to be that he’s compulsively blunt about how he really feels — would then be easily persuaded to play his part in “The Deal”, which involves exaggeratedly trying to be all buddy-buddy with Anatoly. Maybe if there was better setup around it, like with “The Interview” — but “The Deal” only has seconds of kind of half-assed leadup here, and from there it moves directly into “Pity the Child” (after a segue featuring the recording of Oppenheimer quoting the Bhagavad Gita, because nuclear war).

Freddie’s next appearance after that, then, is this “Talking Chess”-esque dialogue where he’s realized the parallel between the two of them, how they’ve both sacrificed everything for chess and the political schemers have sacrificed nothing and that’s why he should play to win. I can appreciate how the low point of “Pity the Child” would trigger that particular realization, contemplating how much he lost and sacrificed to achieve his status in the game and perhaps afterward realizing Anatoly is the only other person here who might understand that. That feels like it basically tracks and is interesting.

But… it also means that fun very specific contempt for Anatoly in particular based on him having left his family like Freddie’s own father did is just kind of… gone, I guess, or at least Freddie doesn’t consider it relevant enough for it to stop him from going out of his way to pep Anatoly up for the game with no mention or hint of it. (At least Freddie probably isn’t aware of the threats made against Svetlana in particular, so he doesn’t know Anatoly winning would shatter his family even further.) And we’ve lost the bit in “Talking Chess” where the notion of the political scheming actually leading to Viigand winning the match just personally offends Freddie because Viigand is not even that good; instead Freddie is just putting forward “Play to win” as some kind of general inviolable chess principle, which is kind of generic and not nearly as characterful, in my opinion. I’m not saying we ought to have had the “Viigand is mediocre” bit here — I don’t think it would quite fit in for this Freddie, whose feelings about chess itself are very conflicted and who is more concerned with showing up these political hacks who have sacrificed nothing while they sacrificed everything — but as a Freddie moment I would really have wanted to end on something stronger there than this vague assertion that “The number one rule of a chess champion is to play to win.”

Like in London, this is Freddie’s last substantial scene, but he does have a part in “Endgame”, and it’s also an interesting one: he gets Sixty-four squares / they’re the reason you know you exist (but not the preceding How straightforward the game…), but also a couple of other verses usually sung by the chorus, and the lines he gets are clearly very purposefully chosen to reinforce that final resolve regarding the sacrifices they’ve made for greatness, which I really appreciate: Listen to them shout / They saw you do it / In their minds no doubt / That you’ve been through it / Suffered for your art and in the end a winner and They’re completely enchanted / But they don’t take your qualities for granted / It isn’t very often / That the critics soften / Nonetheless, you’ve won their hearts / How can we begin to / Appreciate the work that you’ve put into / Your calling through the years / The blood, the sweat, the tears / The late, late, nights, the early starts?

All in all, Freddie is still definitely my favorite part of this Chess, but while the parallel itself is neat it’s too muddled and I find the second half of Act II pretty uneven for him. What would I do if I were writing this bit?

I’m not totally sure how I’d want to tackle “The Deal”, but as for the “Talking Chess”-but-not scene: I would ditch the bit where Freddie is trying to advise Anatoly on strategy and the bit where Anatoly is apparently suddenly not determined to play to win just so Freddie can then tell him he should be again. None of that is contributing anything in what this version has been building up. Instead, they just sort of bump into each other, Anatoly fresh off his paranoid rant to Florence about Svetlana, Freddie fresh off “Pity the Child” and the strange realization Anatoly might be the only person who’d understand him a little bit. At first they just sort of stop and look at each other. Freddie starts, guarded, with some kind of oblique accusatory prod about the leaving his family thing, which he still deeply resents.

Anatoly has calmed down now, but he tells him what he told Florence: that it was always a fake marriage, a fake family, that the video was just a lie set up for him by the KGB, that Svetlana had brainwashed their children to despise him.

This incidentally plays into Freddie’s existing preconceptions pretty well. He’s probably not instantly convinced but it checks out enough he’s willing to reluctantly leave it alone for now. Probably mutters something like, “Fucking Soviets.”

Anatoly says something like, aren’t you going to try to make me a deal to get me to throw the match and go back? Freddie says no, fuck that. Says the whole bit about how we are the ones who have dedicated ourselves to chess, who have sacrificed everything, childhood, sanity, love, and they’ve sacrificed nothing. Why should we listen to those CIA and KGB assholes? Draws out that parallel. The two of them are probably standing in symmetrical positions on the stage.

Anatoly just nods slowly, agreeing. “I would have beaten you.”

Freddie scoffs and says, “Dream on,” but not quite with the spiteful arrogance he would’ve said it in Act I.

Then they part, and we move on to “Endgame”. The scene isn’t about Freddie helping Anatoly, or about Freddie convincing Anatoly to go for the win; it’s about the Freddie/Anatoly parallel, about Freddie realizing it and in his profound loneliness finding a smidge of connection with this guy he hated because he’s the only one who sort of Gets It, and about showing how Anatoly’s conviction has developed since the first chess match where part of his inner monologue went, “I can’t beat him, he’s too good.” Anatoly is so ready to prove that he really is the world’s best chess player.

Conclusion

Man, this version is so interesting. It’s a mess, but it’s a fascinating mess with a bunch of tasty potential and a real sense that Danny Strong had some genuine thoughts on what the show was missing and how to rework it to fix that, even where his attempts were ultimately confused and don’t succeed. In some ways it’s the most me-core version of Chess and in other ways it’s deeply antithetical to me and in most all ways it’s trying to do something neat but does it in a flawed way. Special shoutout to this Freddie, who honestly deserves better than this Florence.

[hellfiremunsonn]

Stupid. Eddie Munson x Reader

Stupid

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

Summary: Eddie accidentally calls his golden retriever/ditsy girlfriend stupid

(This fic has no smut. Younger audiences are able to read this without any explicit content. but I will still be marking and labeling my writing as 18+)

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing, fluff, this is pretty tame, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 1369

Thursday afternoon rolled around faster than you thought it would. Spending most of your time outside with Eddie, picking a handful of small flowers until you had a satisfied bundle of them clutched into your fist, Eddies hand intertwined with your other hand, swinging them back and forth while you walked back to your house to get ready for Hellfire tonight.

Nerves rumbled through your belly so instead of packing up your overnight bag like you usually do- Staying at Eddies after Hellfire became one of your favourite routines. Today felt different, you were actually playing in the campaign Eddie prepared for everyone; usually tucked up in a chair next to Eddies drawing and colouring throughout the game. Eddie had felt bad bringing you with him every time and having you just sit next to him the whole time, so he made a whole campaign to include you.

You asked Eddie to pack your bag for you, knowing it would make you more nervous if you did it yourself. Laying on your bed, legs up the wall, calves pressed as closely as you could get them while being up, the skirt of your dress falling down to your tummy, your full legs bare and on display. The toes of your pink Mary Janes tapping against each other while you attempting to hold up a stuffed bear who was situated on the bottoms of your shoes.

"Baby where's your toothbrush?" Eddie asked coming out of the bathroom.

You stared at him upside down, your head almost hanging off the edge of your bed. "I dunno" You said with a shrug.

"What do you mean you don't know? Did you brush this morning?" He asked tilting his head to the side.

"Yep!"

"And you put your toothbrush somewhere else and forgot huh?" He said knowingly while coming over to give your forehead a quick kiss.

"I guess so" You said furrowing your brows. "Maybe the house goblins took it. You know like the ones in the book?"

"They are quite mischievous aren't they?" Eddie said returning his attention to your pink backpack.

You watched him fold your clothes delicately before tucking them into your bag. Frilly pink pyjamas, soft in contrast to Eddies dark and tough demeanour, a couple pair of undies, a change of clothes for tomorrow along with your sketchbook and glittery pencil case.

"Alright you're all set sweets, ready to head out?"

You frowned lightly but still sat up, letting the blood rush back down to the rest of your body before standing up. Taking eddies outstretched hand and following him back downstairs to his van.

The drive to your old high school was quick, just down the road from your own home, giving you not enough time to calm your nerves.

You twirled around the drama room humming to a song while Eddie began setting everything up. Copies of characters sheets, extra sets of dice, a sharpened pencil at each seat along with a few seats of lined paper just incase anyone needed to write anything down. He was always so diligent with everything he did, and constantly over prepared.

"You alright? You seem quiet" Eddie asked breaking you out of your thoughts.

"I'm nervous" you said honestly, never one to truly lie about your emotions. Eddie came over to you, hands encircling around your waist, warm and protective. He looked down at your concerned face, big doe eyes with thick lashes, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Whatcha nervous for?"

"What if they don't like me" biting your lip and avoiding his gaze.

"They know you already, they love you, you know that" He said reassuringly.

Your heart raced a little bit faster as you could hear the rest of the group coming loudly down the hall. Your words coming out in a rush. "B-but what if I mess somethin' up? What if they don't like playing with me"

Eddie rolled his eyes "Don't be stupid, you k-" You cut him off with a shove, squirming out of his arms and to the door of the room. Tears falling quickly down your eyes.

"Babe what happened?" Eddie said confused, following hot on your heels, reaching for your shoulder but you shrugged it off, flinging the classroom door open till it smacked the shelf on the other side, the uncomfortable looking teens on the other side of the door unsure of what to do as you brushed passed him with a hiccup. "Fucking shit" He mumbled, pushing past the gaggle of kids. "Just set up your shit guys, I'll be back" Eddie said with a rush, jogging to catch up to you shortly after you pushed through the school doors.

"Baby wait!" He reached for your wrist, holding it tightly to stop you from walking, tugging at it to turn you to face him. Your cheeks pink and splotchy from your tears, your lip wobbled when you looked at him. "Baby what's got you so upset"

You yanked roughly against his hand that held your wrist. "You!" You shouted. "Y-you called me stupid" You said with a choked, your other hand coming up to wipe at your nose.

Eddies tensed shoulders dropped, realization coming over him. Upset at himself for using the word towards you even if you didn't mean it the way so many other people did towards you.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that" His grip on your wrist loosening. Bringing his hands up to the base of your neck, thumbs on each sides of your cheeks while they attempted to brush away the rapidly falling tears. "I should have said 'silly' instead, I'm so sorry baby"

"M'not stupid Eds" you sniffled.

"I know my love, I know you're not stupid, you're one of the most brilliant people I've ever met I promise okay? I'm sorry" His eyes searched yours, hoping that you accept his apology. He felt so guilty he let the word slip, normally using any other word he could think of as a replacement.

"People think I'm stupid because I don't have a good memory, and I-I know I'm not always there in my own head, but it's cause I'm thinking about a million things at once!" You huffed.

"I know baby, you don't have to prove yourself to me, I know how smart you are, and what you're capable of, I've seen it, I've seen you" His eyes searching for yours once more. "Can I give you a hug please?"

You didn't give him time to wait, throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shirt. He sighed in relief, his hands wrapping around your back tightly, pressing his nose into your hair, breathing in your cucumber and lavender shampoo.

After a few moments you leaned back to look at him, taking your thumb and wiping gently across his wet lashes. His own eyes watery, seconds away from guilt filled tears rolling down his cheeks, but you wouldn't allow it, seeing him cry would make you crumble.

"Could you ever forgive me?" He said with a small smile and you giggled, looking away from him and across the dark parking lot, noticing how long you had been out here.

"Course I can, but don't say it ever again okay?" Looking back up at him with those big eyes.

"Never" He said spotting your head with kisses. "Never" a kiss "Ever" a kiss "Ever!" he yelled the last one, his hands roaming down your sides, tickling at your waist until he had you doubled over with laughter, trying to wiggle out of his torturous hands.

"I surrender!" You yelled, holding your hands up, huffing out the words admit your giggles. "Truce?" You ask, holding your hand out.

"Truce" he agreed, taking your hand in his and pulling it to his lips to press the daintiest of kissed to the back of your hand.

The doors of the school creaked open and an awkward looking Mike peaked out with a wave. "Uh, just coming to see if everything was good, and uh" he scratched the back of his head. "If you guys were coming back"

"We'll be right in Wheeler" Eddie said giving him a salute before leaning down to envelop your lips with his.  

[timeshift-playground-sys]

uhm ultrakill hc talk (V1 and Gabriel edition)

guys did you know i like ultrak- *explodes*

\\also slight suicide mention

-🪷 (Adrian)

VERY LONG POST so the rest is after the cut

V1:

Runs digitigrade

The heels on its feet are actually the jet boosters that let it dash

maybe has small wheels built into its feet to help it slide. maybe. i swear i don't just want the murder robot to have heelies

weird fucking insect THING

Any idea of affection and human actions it has learned from observing its creators interact. Ex. blinking, twiddling its thumbs, etc

Also the concept of it being capable of mercy is very interesting to me. We see in the ferryman fight that once he stops attacking, V1 does too. The same with characters giving monologues and such. It doesn't attack until it knows the target is a threat, and seeing that everything in hell is like completely hostile we don't really get to see it sparing those who don't harm it.

as for killing i feel like it just doesn't feel anything. It doesn't have satisfaction it's just doing what it has to to survive, like a wild animal. I think it's going down through hell not only out of hunger but also curiosity. I mean it probably consumes a lot of blood to run its systems at the capacity it does so. Things like the cybergrind serve as practice when it gets bored (also it def replays its favorite fights)

As for dying i have two ideas

It leaves the pools of blood instead of collecting them for a reason. Once it is destroyed it can absorb blood from the ground to put itself back together. This of course takes time, which is why the enemies and bosses come back after you die. Meaning it's immortal

Hell itself brings V1 back each time because it wants entertainment, maybe resetting time too??? This doesn't really make sense to me tho

Gabriel:

gifted kid syndrome and BADDDDD

Shapeshifter. I don't know why. He has a human form (i refuse to believe he'd be white) and a more angelic form (his head is just a biblically accurate angel

immortal with his light, but can be exhausted with enough harm (ie. first fight)

his wounds heal extremely fast, but the more exhausted he gets the slower he heals (this is why he can taste his blood in the second fight)

this guy. oh my GAWD. Daddy issues times 10000000. Nice chill dude but indebted to his job because the council. I think he had a good friendship with minos before he had to kill him. Secretly played organ and read stories to filth children he didn't think belonged in hell (such as those who died to suicide). The only angel who really dared to step foot or even worry about Hell, so the council used his faith as a tool to manipulate him. This is a majority of what drives him to kill the council after the second fight

Now GabV1el, this shit is so canon.

I don't think they're really a romantic pairing, and it's very likely one sided on Gabriel's side. Gabriel is just enamored with V1 because it's the first thing to ever give him true struggle. Killing Minos? Easy. Killing Sisyphus? Easy. Killing the council? Easy. But V1 just keeps beating him. It's a passion to overcome, to finally beat this machine. And I am not normal about it AT ALL

As for V1, I feel like it doesn't understand the concept of romance. Things like kissing and embracing are just an action like any other to it. Although it may find the concept of affection interesting when all contact with others has always been harm

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC Part 18 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ah yes my favourite gif of all time finally has come into play, how exciting! We're in France Baby! It's a change of pace and scenery how fun! I feel we are nearing the end and then remember how much I have actually written and then I'm like oh nope we still got a bit bahaha. I'm doing a short chapter cause I was writing it and it was like a good 4k words so I thought it best to just split it into two, I know some people prefer shorter chapters.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (if you want to be added let me know🥰)

The cold wind whipped at my face making me hunch further down into my jacket. We had finally arrived in Haguenau after the long journey, everyone seemed to be restless. Keen to be indoors and out of the biting elements. Don stood in the back of the truck, his mood appearing low. I wanted to ask him what seemed to be troubling him but there was no privacy on the back of the vehicle. His smiles weren’t as bright, not quite reaching his eyes. I chewed my lip nervously watching the man. They had made him Staff Sergeant, but he didn’t seem pleased. 

“Hey guys.” A cheery voice called from behind me. I turned to look at the man who spoke. I didn’t recognise him. But he surely hadn’t been with us before. He looked healthy, clean, and happy. Compared to the sorry sacks who rode on the back of the truck, myself included. Was he a replacement?

“Some Lieutenant told me to report to 2nd.” The man informed us. I glanced across the truck at Lieb who shrugged. I rolled my eyes, why I looked to him for information I have no idea, he’s no help. I leant back resting on the seat between Grant and Jackson.  

“Your name’s Jackson right?” The soldier asked the young man beside me. God he was so young, he assured me he was 19 but I don’t believe him, he looks like a kid.    

“That’s right.” Jackson replied. 

“Who’s leading the platoon?” He asked, Jackson’s eyes flicked to Don who was still standing. 

“Sergeant Malarkey is.” He tells the soldier. 

“What no officers?” I tilt my head while looking at the man while he talks, his face seems so familiar. 

“I guess you didn’t hear.” Lieb said. 

“No, what's that?” He turned his attention onto Joe. 

“They’re making Malarkey a Lieutenant. He’s on the fast track now.” He says while fiddling with his lighter. A tell that he was lying, the little shit. No one said anything about his blatant lie.  

“Really? That’s great.” It’s bugging me, I swear I know this dude. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo as he glances at me staring at him. 

“Jackson, help me up will you?” He swings his bag onto the back of the truck, pulling himself up to sit next to Jackson. I move from my spot, not having enough room on the bench anymore without me basically sitting in Grant’s lap. I sit in between Babe and Lieb. Continuing to stare at the private. This is going to drive me insane, who is this guy?

 The truck jolts forward, almost sending him flying out again. I hide my laughter behind my hand. 

“So, uh, you come from the hospital?” Jackson asks him.

“Must’ve liked that hospital, cause’ we left Holland four months ago.” I nudge Lieb, silently scolding him for being mean.  

“Who is this guy?” I whispered to Babe.

“Webster, I think.” My mouth flew open, that’s where I knew him from, I think I met him on my first night. Babe reaches out, shutting my mouth, “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“Well I wasn’t there the whole time. There was rehabilitation, then the replacement depot.” Webster explained. 

“Well, I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne, Web.” Lieb was pissed off. Lieb would’ve come back and helped, like a lot of the other men did. But they can’t all be like them. Webster got off the line and had a holiday, can’t blame the man for not wanting to come back in a hurry. This was war for god sake, no one wishes to be here. Well I hope not. I mean I do but I have my reasons ok!

“I don’t know how I would’ve done that.” Webster defended himself. I looked at Babe, he seemed to notice the tension, I made a face showing my discomfort. Hiding my look behind my hand. He gave me the same look back. I chuckled and bumped him with my shoulder trying to ease the cringe we both felt in our chests. Like going over to a friends house and having to sit there and watch them be told off. So awkward. 

“That’s funny cause Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right, back in Holland? And Guarnere and –” Lieb turned to Babe and I, we both nodded silently, not wanting to be dragged into the passive aggressive conversation. Lieb was the king of passive aggressiveness, let me tell you. Don’t piss off that guy. He will subtly degrade you and wear you down.   

“Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon Sergeant?“ Webster asked. I could feel both Lieb and Babe stiffen next to me. I stilled too. It was hard being dragged back to that place of memories. So we didn’t mention it, and kept moving forward. So for Web to come in asking where people were, hit a nerve. It was an unspoken rule not to really speak of those who we had lost. It just made it so much harder, we didn’t have time to process or grieve really. It was for later, after this was all done and we were safe then we could process everything that had happened. 

“No. He got hit.” Jackson said with a huff. Webster was not picking up on the social cues being hurled at him. How did he not see or feel the tension as soon as he mentioned Bill’s name, it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

The truck stopped moving as we stood. Lieb held out his hand for me to grab to help me jump down. I took his hand, hopping down and landing beside him, “Thank you.” I said giving him a smile, but I could tell Webster had put him in a sour mood. I waited for Babe to hop down as well. He stood up in the truck, “Yeah, Bill got hit. Blew his whole leg off.” Babe said to Webster. Great now he’s made both of them mad. Babe jumped down, walking in stride with me. We walked alongside the trucks that had parked.

“Spread out. Hold along this line till I figure out where we’re going.” Don said, striding forward from behind us. Making his way over to where Captain Speirs was talking to another officer. I hung back as the men kept walking. Waiting by the trucks for instructions, no good me holding the line with no weapon. 

“Sarge.” Web called from behind me, I turned to look at the man as he walked. He brushed past me, his rifle still in its bag clocking me right in the head. I stumbled backwards, tripping over rubble on the floor. I landed on the ground with a hard thud. Ow! Fucking dick! I rubbed my head, grimacing in pain. He didn’t even realise he had done it, continuing to walk towards Malarkey. I got to my feet, brushing the dirt from my hands. I glared at the man, great now he’s pissed me off too. The sounds of shells being fired whistled through the air. I ducked my head down barely trying to cover myself. I watched with pure shock as Webster dove onto the ground face planting into the snow. I covered my mouth trying to muffle the laughter escaping my lips. Malarkey turned around to see his soldier lying in the snow. I giggled furiously behind the men. 

“What’s the matter there, Webster? Nervous in the service?” Don asked the man. I almost fell to the floor again in a fit of hysterics, wiping the tears from my eyes. The scene of Webster flying through the air replaying in my head. Well I’m not mad at him anymore. 

Don finished talking to Webster, sending him off to speak with Captain Speirs. “Em, you’re with me, let’s go.” Don called to me as he passed. I hurried after him, trailing behind a little so that he could speak to others if he needed. 

I split from the group needing to find Lip, I saw him slink away into one of the houses they were setting up CP in. I hurried in watching Lip take a seat on one of the couches. 

“Lip, how are you feeling?” I asked the man coming to kneel beside the couch he rested on. 

“Great.” He smiled. I placed my hand on his forehead, he was running a fever. His skin was clammy and hot. His complexion was pallor in colour, and even from here I could hear the evident wheeze in his chest. He coughed into a handkerchief, producing a greenish yellow phlegm. George laid a blanket over the man as I assessed him. I pulled the stethoscope from my bag, Lip leaned forward knowing the drill. I untucked his top from the back, sliding my hand under his shirt to press the diaphragm of the stethoscope to his back. 

He winced, “Sorry cold hands.” I apologised from my freezing fingers that touched his warm skin. 

“Deep breath in.” He inhaled for me as I listened in one spot. “And out.” He exhaled. I could hear the rattle in his chest clearly, as he exhaled. I moved the diaphragm around listening to different parts of the lungs, from the top of the lung field to the bottom. I removed my hand from under his shirt, tucking it back in. 

“How does it sound?” He asked, reading over a paper George had handed him. 

“Well Lip it sounds better than last time I checked, but there is still fluid present in the lungs. So you need to rest. If you keep going you’re going to crash. They have this handled, you need to go lie down. There are beds in the back, go sleep. And remember at least three pillows, you need your head elevated.” I tried to explain to him, but even when he first got sick he refused to rest, saying there was too much work to do. I could only drag a horse to water.  

“George, have you had any word about if they will send us some antibiotics?” I asked Luz as he moved around the room organising things. 

“No, sorry Em.” I sighed, frustrated, he needed that medication. 

“Hey, look who it is. Nice digs, huh, Lip?” I tucked the blanket into Lip’s side knowing he would refuse to move and go to bed. I looked over to Webster who stood in the passageway. 

“Sergeant Lipton? Feeling alright?” Webster asked the man.

“He’s got pneumonia.” George informed the curious soldier. I still knelt beside him, concern apparent on my features. He gave me his sorry-I-will-go-rest-soon-face. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Webster shared his apologies. 

“What are you sorry about? He’s alive. Got a couch, a goddamn blanket, snug as a bug.” George said cigarette hanging from his mouth. I stood from my position, placing my stethoscope back into my bag. 

“Sergeant Malarkey said to check with the CO if I should be in 2nd platoon.” Webster said. 

“Have a seat, Webster. We’ll get you situated.” Lipton ushered the man to sit. He took a place at the old piano. 

“How long have you been sick?” Webster inquired. 

“Long enough.” I patted the man on his shoulder. Poor guy had been ill for a while. He had a cold at first, which I said in the first place for him to rest and let it pass. But being the caring man that he is couldn’t leave his soldiers. So he worked still, causing the cold to become worse and then it deteriorated into pneumonia. Still even with that he refused to lie still and do nothing. Which I encouraged him to do so many times, I had given up. 

“And when did nurses start helping on the frontlines?” He turned and asked me. 

“Ah, I’m a medic.” I answered. 

“Oh, that’s right! I recognise you now.” He smiled, “Yeah, wow, I’m surprised you’re still alive.” We all stilled. I sent him a disbelieving look, surely he didn’t just say that to me.

“Um… thanks?” I wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Of course Em is still alive, she’s tough as nails. Huh Em?” George came and stood beside me wrapping an arm around me as he gave me a squeeze. I smiled at Luz, nodding my head. 

“Sure am.” I turned to look at Webster, who assessed the interaction. He seemed to be puzzled at the closeness we shared. Too bad for him, it was a common sentiment I shared with all the Easy men. 

Footsteps sounded from the doorway. A young man appeared in the room. “Is this the CP for Easy company?” He asked, looking lost. 

“Yes, sir.” Lip said, moving to sit up on the couch. Everyone else in the room stood as well. I inspected the man closer, recognising the dash on his helmet showing he was a ranking officer. 

“As you were.” He told the men who stood at his arrival. “Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs.” 

“He’s on his way, sir. Why don’t you sit down.” Lip told the Lieutenant. I moved from my position standing next to Lip’s couch. I gave Luz a small wave heading for the door. Captain Speirs strolled in right as I was about to leave. He gave me a warm smile as we passed. 

“Listen, for Christ’s sake, will you go back in the back and sack out? There’s some beds back there with fresh sheets.” I heard Ron tell Lip. 

“I told him that sir, he wouldn’t listen.” I called over my shoulder. 

“Listen to Emily, she's the medic.” I laughed as Ron scolded him. I left the CP heading to where 2nd platoon had been placed. I passed Winters and Nix on my way out as well. 

“Emily! You’re looking well.” Nixon called to me, I smiled brightly at the man as I hadn’t seen him in a while. He moved forward arms wide, I stepped into his tight hug. I pulled away from Nix. Winters smiled at me, giving me a loving squeeze on the arm, as I grinned at him.  

“It’s good to see you both.” I told them happily. The exchange was brief before they set off again in the direction I had just come from. 

------------------------------------

Chapter 19

[popcornforone]

The Cabin

A Dave York Fan Fic

Happy Dave York Saturday my besties. We good? Well you won’t be… I’ve written this & I know it’s good it’s too good. I’ve had moments writing this at points. But I am my main audience so that’s surely a good thing right. So I hope you adore this pure smut like I do. Also this is part of my autumnal vibe.

Synopsis:- Dave has a cabin where he takes the family for trips, but this weekend it’s all about you & how he is going to enjoy every single second of you.

Word count: 5400

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! DAVE YORK AS ALWAYS COMES WOTH HIS OWN WARNING! Unprotected PIV&A Sex, oral & fingering, cum play, tasing, drinking, swearing, affair & adultery, established pleasure relationships, fuck buddys, talk of masterbating, tie & choking, Dom & controlling vibes for Dave, recording your exploits but just for the two of you. It’s full on smut. Daddy is used but I only ever write about Dave as Daddy no other Pedro character gets that treatment.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. If this is too much my bad but I had fun writing it. All feed back is welcome. I hope you enjoy it.

As the taxi pulls up the drive, the leaves fall, the rain pours & you slowly realise what you are doing & who the person is that you’ve become, as the driver gets your two weekend bags into the cabin. Your own week has been crazy. What you actually could do with is a weekend at home with no distractions. But after the last few weeks of carnage at work you do need 3 days of complete nothing because even at home there’s still adulting stuff to do. Just loving yourself & your man. His flights already been delayed due to the weather, but you know when he arrives you’ll be inseparable & the way he will take you in every room, will be incredible. That’s what he promised on Wednesday after an impromptu visit.

The bath is large & so inviting so once you’ve unpacked everything into the master bedroom, you throw your bath bomb in & soak. You instant feel it soothe your soul. A large glass of red wine in hand you sip away & slowly feel a little more normal. The bath is you time though, a more personal experience. Time to endulge. He won’t like that you have seen to yourself without him, he likes to watch. He likes it when you put on a show for him, be it your fingers or any toy you have, the way he eyes dilate as he watches you touch yourself, how he licks his lips. That turns you on even more, seeing him beg for you.

That’s kind of how Wednesday happened. He FaceTimed you to check your flight details for the weekend & you were getting ready for bed as he called. His “late shift” over. He watched on his phone as you took off your dress & bra & put on your nightdress. How the silk made your nipples hard & the gasp he made when you bent over to take your knickers off afterwards had him begging. He was around in 10minutes. Into your apartment without hesitation. Clothes discarded across the floor, slamming hard into you, he movements relentless as he fucked you like a whore. Your body quivering watching your man be desperate to touch you. The way he took your knickers you’d taken off on the face time & stuffed them in your mouth to keep you quiet so you didn’t scream his name.

“You did that on purpose baby” he panted. He’s gripping your wrist hard above your head. “You knew I couldn’t resist, you know I’d have to scratch my itch. You’re a brat, but damn you wear it well” he growls. His penis thrusting inside you, & the way he nips at your bottom lip.

Buzz Buzz. Your phone goes as you remember wednesday & almost go to touch yourself in the Bath. The noise stops you. There it is in black & white on the phone.

*landed, be with you in 30mins, D is on route

You smile & slowly get out of the bath & dry off. The D could stand for Dick, Desire, Desperation, Daddy, or a Dominant. He knows you’ve at least thought about him once with one of those names. But it’s also for Dave & damn that man gets what he wants.

Once dry & in the master bedroom you wonder what to wear for the perfect first impression for the weekend. Should you just be naked laying in bed for him, holding your new vibrator asking him if he wants a show? No that’s too slutty even for you. You never meant to get into a relationship with a married man, not that he’s happily married, but there’s just something about Dave & his job that makes it seem alright. You know you’re not the first dalliance, or his last but this has been going on for 6 months now & this is the first time you’ve been to the cabin. The one where, he in his office, has picture of his family at thanks givings gone by. But for this 3 day weekend, the kids are at home, his wife’s not here. He’s got you & he’s going to enjoy being Dave who gets sex on tap when he wants.

You are in your towel & go to find blankets when you open a draw & realise Dave already has some clothes here. The perfect idea fills your mind, what a fantastic cozy idea you have for your lover. One you hope will turn him on. Provide the desire he needs & take you to the height of pleasure. No one makes you cum like Dave does, not that you’d ever tell him that. It’s bad enough that you are sleeping with a married man.

Dave arrives. He’s brought a small backpack. He has a few essentials in there. He told Carol he was On a special job this weekend. One where he wouldn’t be able to contact anyone, & he’d be so preoccupied he wouldn’t get a time to FaceTime the girls good night, for his own safety. He’s good at lying it’s his job. He’s eaten earlier, which you’d both agreed to do. So when he’s arrived at the cabin, & the front door is locked, the bag drops to the floor. He can hear that fire crackle & the soft music coming from the lounge. He doesn’t just want to charge in like he did on Wednesday. He enjoyed it on Wednesday, but he knew that was going further than he should do with his affair. It’s just sex. That’s what he always tells himself. Be it hes doing it on a mission or it’s a one night stand to let off steam if carols not around or it’s a fuck buddy like you. He keeps the wedding ring on, to remind you both this isn’t forever. He always does that. He hopes that when he sees it, as he fingers or chokes you that it will make him stop, but it’s actually a turn on for him because Dave York always gets exactly what he wants. He takes his shoes off & jacket & then checks himself out in the mirror. He took the tie off on the plane but he knows you like to wear it when you intimate with each other. It’s even Moss green today, the colour that goes best with your hazel eyes. He then heads into the living room. He stops in the door frame, & leans, & trys not to moan at the sight in front of him.

You’re on the large family sofa. Feet bare overhanging the edge furthest away from him. Your legs look cleanly shaven, your long luscious pins. He can just about see the grey from his boxers on your thighs, but it’s covered up from his Boston university hoodie which is which is navy. He’s pretty sure you have no underwear on. Your hair is frizzy & still slightly damp from your bath, your lips pouting as you sip your red wine & read your book. A bowl of m & ms sit on the side, which you lean in to pick up & lick the outer coating off first before sucking the chocolate. Two blankets are in the arm chair which is about a foot away from you, along with the bottle of wine & an empty glass in the table.

You heard a soft gasp but haven’t looked up. You want him to suffer to start with because the more Dave is pent up, the more passionate he will be when he fucks you. You rub your knees together & let out a shallow giggle at the book you are reading. It’s not actually a funny book but you know that always makes his groin twitch. Makes him want to be in between your thighs. Dave stares for a bit too long at the view of you completely in a trance. Your relationship is all about sex & lust it really is an affair for the two of you & if your going to sleep with a married man it may as well be the best sex you ever are going to have in your life.

Eventually Dave slips properly into the room. Already hot & flustered & not just from the fire roaring.

“Evening” he says & you finally look at him & acknowledge him.

“Mr York you made it” you only call him Dave when you have sex. He kisses your forehead as he leans over the sofa & then picks up the wine & glass from the table & pours himself a large glass but only after he tops yours up. You lick your lips as you watch over the top of your book as he gulps it down. Those crimson lips now a deeper shade & now will taste even more delicious than they already do.

“Every room?” He asks based on your previous messages.

“Depends how many rooms you have?” You still try to read the book even though you’ve been on page 38 for the last 4mins. You push your reading glasses up your nose slightly. The smirk is undeniable from him. He wants you.

“Are we counting the boat house?”

“You have a boat house?”

“Yes”

“What?” You actually give him attention now. “Well let’s start with a more standard room & then work up to more.” You finish your sentence & see Dave undoing the top button of his shirt. “When would you like to start?”

“About 3mins ago” Daves firm in’s his answer as he sits down at the other end of the sofa & pulls your feet into his lap.

“Ooooh” the feel of those large deadly hands massaging your feet, getting the knots out the balls of your feet, pushing your pressure spots. Ooh it feels good. Those hands were made for more than killing. They can be tender too. You put the book down on the side & take your wine. “What a way to start the weekend” you say admiring his side profile. He’s freshly shaven for you. He’s even had a hair cut. Who even is this man?

“Enjoying this?” He asks his eyes dart at you, undressing you in his mind instantly, wondering how wet you already are. If he saw the state of his boxer already at this stage, he’d discover they were a little sticky & moist.

“Yes”

“Enjoying the wine”

“Yes”

“& the hoodie?” He raises a bratty eyebrow at you knowing that you’re about to do that to him. You giggle.

“It smelt of you after my bath, & you weren’t here yet” you reply put your wine down on the table & suck on your thumb. You’re doing that to not cum at just him touching your feet. You’re completely at peace & so relaxed, but also feral, stupidly feral.

“Well let’s make sure your whole body smells of me, not just some hoodie” he winks & you rub your legs together again. He holds you by your feet & drags you nearer to him on the sofa now lying down. His boxers go up your arse & give you a wedgie. It feels good.

“This was what you wanted?” He asks just to make sure.

“Dave…” you whimper as your hand rubs his cheek”why would I be here if I didn’t want this” you bite your bottom lip & see the seductive smirk on his face.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl”He leans down & takes your glasses off, putting them on the side. “Now do as I say” before you can agree his lips find yours. Your head rises to keep the kiss going. It’s full of life. Maybe all assassins have to go to a make out school because the way in which Daves kisses make the world stop everytime, is a remarkable feet. His hand has made its way under the hoodie & is already fumbling your breasts. “Does the bottom match the top?” He asks to make sure you have no underwear on at all. You nod. Your hands are dealing with his buttons on his pale blue shirt. “Oooh baby then let’s not waste anymore time” his hands reach the bottom of the hoodie. “I have to see”.

Dave tuts at the state of you. He can see a dampening patch on his Hugo boss boxers from your arousal. He always coos when he sees you topless. You do wonder if he does this with his wife & other partners too. But the way he licks his lips before he latches on to your right nipple is a sight.

“Fuck Dave” you groan. You’re not sure how you’ve not cum yet. You’re so turned on & aroused. Maybe removing his shirt is what’s keeping you sane as his mouth moves onto your left breast. “So good oh fuck”

“& I’ve not even got going, we’ve got 3 days of this” his head poped up to say. Your hand is now trailing down his bare back, going inside his trousers & boxers to try & squeeze his arse. He moans at that sensation & then lifts his head up. “You’ve got far too many clothes on” he whispers before he then does his usually kisses treck.

Forehead, nose, lips, chin, neck, shoulders, both breasts, ribs, belly button, lower tummy. Each kiss a simple peck but you’re squirming at them & when they mean will follow. He doesn’t ask permission. His teeth sink into the waist band of his boxers that you are wearing & he drags them off your body. You lock your legs together when you’re free of them, you know what he will want. Your eyes also light up when Dave turns the boxers inside out & he sucks the damp patch, which was very white a sticky.

“This tastes better than that wine” he says before he throws them behind him & sits next to your face as you’re still lying down he’s on the floor. He kisses you & then spits what he just licked off into your mouth. The tang instantly recognisable as your own. The number of times you’ve cum & sucked Dave off straight afterwards & licked a toy clean, you know what you taste like & the spit, well it just adds to the whole dirty nature of the man. Dave then moves after seeing your swallow stands up & removes his trousers. This is also usually the point where he gets a condom out but you can’t see one anywhere. He moves back to the other end of the sofa, palming himself inside his own boxers as he sits down.

“I want you, I want to see you” you giggle as he says this menacingly. “All of you” that’s your key words. You lower your knees & spread your legs. You use your fingers & he blushes as little but you can see the want in his eyes. Dave York wants you in this state all weekend. A small amount already oozing from your cunt, he also sees that you are trying so hard not to start touching yourself.

“This is all for you Dave”

“So it bloody should be” He then grabs his phone that he put on the table earlier. “We’re going to try something this weekend okay” you nod & coo. “I can’t hear you” his hand is then around your throat.

“Yes Dave” you love it when he chokes you. That’s also the exact moment he lets go & slips his tie around your neck, it’s loose to start with.

“You see…” Dave says inquisitively”I know you can take my three fingers, but your pussy is so tight, I’m intrigued how.” Dave click the record button” can I record this, I can delete it before we leave but I want to watch it back with you in the morning, I want you to see how feral you make me & how much you gush, & how much of a cum hungry slut you are.” You jaw drops your mouth dry.

“David” you never say his name like that. His eyebrow raises & you try to look shocked but those brown eyes as having you clamping at nothing. “I thought you’d never ask”

“There she is, my special spoilt brat” & he moves the phone near your face along with his other hand. “Suck” your mouth deals with bigger than his fingers so you sloppily suck them. Saliva escaping, you throw in a gagging noise. “Look at you so desperate to make me happy.” The pop the fingers leaving your mouth make is loud. But the squelch as he records them going inside you is louder. Not that you can hear it as you moan Daves name. He’s starting with 2 while he strokes your clit.

“Fuck”

“Fuck in deed girl, you have no idea, How beautiful this looks.” Daves not taken his eyes off his fingers. “Tell me, does it feel as good as it looks? What’s it like feeling my fat long fingers inside you? Does it make you feral, plead for more? You Want my leaking cock?” Dave loves to get you wound up but you’re sure this is more on purpose that normal for just wearing his clothes & being so seductive without even trying.

“Yyyyeee…yeaaaa” it’s drawn out. You’re growling slightly. You feel so full as his fingers curl inside you. “I want you, so bad”

“Time babygirl, all in good time” the fingers almost draw out of you entirely. The video will show them already damp. He sighs “perfect.”

The third finger has your body convulsing a few minutes later, desperate to let go. To drench your lover, you know he likes it but Daves up to his usual tricks.

“Not until I say so sweetheart”

“But…” you lift your head & then pause before you really get the sentence out. He’s no longer using his thumb on your clit. Daves tongue is masterful & his mouth is now taking that ever so sensitive spot & it’s making you go all unnecessary. Wet long stokes flicking away at it. Your quivers & gasp. He is the best lover & his fingers are pumping you like you’ve never felt before. Over stimulation is an understatement. & this is only the beginning of the weekend.

“Cum baby, let me taste….” Dave then feels the change in your body. It tenses so much that every muscle contracts before releasing in pleasure. The added wetness. the new sensation on his mouth. You’ve cum hard, almost feeling your soul leave your cunt.”that’s my girl, my naughty girl” he laps away at the slick escaping & starts to suck. Slowly withdrawing his fingers as you come down. He grabs the tie around your neck & pulls it so you jolt up & gasp. “No rest for the wicked” he says. He slowly sticks his fingers into your mouth & you suck & lick away as he talks to you. “Look at you, licking my fingers, sucking them clean, wanting more, do you want more, do you want my cock?” Your eyes are wide & you nod. Desperate to be filled. His fingers are good but nothing beats his penis pulsing away, making you flutter.

He pulls the tie a little more your almost sat up. Still panting from your exquisite high you just had. The way he rubs your lips with his thumb once his fingers are freed from your mouth has you wanting to suck that. He looks frenzied.

“You want to suck more.”

“Yes Dave” he jolts you again with the tie.

“Come” he says & he takes the 5 or so paces to the fire place. You sit on your knees & look up at him towering over you. God the man is broad buff & handsome. He’s leaking you can see the stain on his boxers.

“May I?” Your reach up to his waist band.

“Am I gonna say no?” You shuffle onto the fluffy blue rug & see Dave put his phone which is still recoding on the table. It’s in line with his groin. His length springs free & you lick your lips.

“It’s always a pleasure Dave…” you say as your hands grip his length & start to stroke it. He kicks away his own boxers. “…to suck any part of you.” You don’t want him to cum while you give him head, but you want him to no longer cope & fling his penis inside you. Your spit & his precum will be the perfect lube. You gobble him up & you look up at him as you bob on your knees taking him past your reflex point & suck him.

“Fuck. Oh fuck fuck” Daves eyes roll in the back of his head. His hips already finding their own rhythm. “God girl, you know how to do this” looking down at you as you look up at him makes you both go faster. It’s more than the fire place heat that’s making you both red. After only a few minutes, he has his hand on your head, pushing himself further into your mouth. You are gagging, saliva trickles out of your mouth. It has no where else to go as he keeps pushing you down on to him. “Fuck, balls deep girl, take all me” he’s almost using the same pace as when he fingered you. Your eyes stream with tears. This is vigorous but damn your aroused. He is using you as an outlet, for everything.

“Jesus fucking Christ” he says knowing he likely to cum soon & quickly with draws his cock. You splutter everywhere looking a complete mess. “All 4s” he screeches & you turn around drop down as he instructs. He licks his hand to add extra lube to you & then scream yourself.

“Fuck Dave” you were not expecting him to go for your arse, but here you were. You’re rocking back onto his cock on all fours as he slaps your arse.

“Pucker oh fuck oh fucking hell. It’s tight heaven” & he withdraws after only about a minute & cums across your arse cheeks. “Fuckkkk yessssss” it’s deep & low as his lashings of cum cover your bum. It doesn’t make you cum but damn you feel sexy that your mouth & a few thrusts inside your arse can have such a controlled & meticulous man cumming in seconds. Imagine how good he’s gonna feel inside your pussy.

“Wow” He mumbles as he gets his breath back. “& that… that” as he reaches for the phone to turn off the recording he’s already got more than he expected. “… was just the warm up, now we can have a real private show”

“You sure Dave?” You go to turn around but a large hand grabs your shoulder, keeping you facing away.

“Oooh im sure, I’m more than sure. Do you trust me?” He says & you raise a bratty eyebrow over your shoulder. “Take it that’s a yes” he leans over your shoulder & kisses you fierily on the lips. Your face a glow form your exploits & the heat from the flames. He trails a hand around your face as his kisses continue. But with Dave there is always an alternative motive. You gasp as he pulls the tie around your neck. “Face the fire, on your knees, spread.” He admires you as you get In this position. Looking at how peachy your naked bum is. How smooth your skin is, how your hair slightly moves. You have a tattoo of a line of stars just above your bum. He can see the base of your feet & he can also see his cum splattered over you. “The best sight ever is you like this” he gulps his words before another tug in the tie.

“Dave” you moan. You can feel how aroused you are. Your thighs & flaps are sticky & moist desperate for Dave to fully take you. Your hand starts to trail down your body. Your skin already shiny from the exploits so far.

“Yea I know baby” he sees where you hand is moving. “Did you have pleasure in the Bath earlier” you shake your head but there’s no auditable answer as your breath is already shallow. A quick jolt of the tie again has you whimpering & replying.

“No”

“You sure?”

“I thought about it & then you told me you were on your way”

“Wow such self restraint” Dave says. “ if I had as soft a pleasure, I’d be rubbing that clit furiously all the time. I’d have naughty panties that would increase pleasure. It’s almost a shame that you can’t do that all the time” his hand grabs yours & moves it to your clit. “Play baby, get all worked up, drip & then I’ll see to you” & so he takes your hand & looks down as he makes you touch yourself. Friction quickly starts to build & you whines echo more.

“Dave… fuck oh yes yes yesssss” your head rolls into his that’s resting on your shoulder as he looks down & removes his hand from yours. You continue stroking.

“That’s it baby, my girl, being all slutty, happy to touch herself just for me” his damp hand that’s not clutching the tie leisurely strokes his length, before he slides it through your slick. “Oooh this is gonna be good… ahhhhh” his sigh & your gasp combine as he fills you in a slow thrust. Opening you up. Filling you as always. You feel exquisite.

“Dave”

“Baby”

He sees you lean forward a bit so takes the length of the tie & pulls it behind you to make sure you stay up right.”let’s get this moving baby”

Every kiss as he thrusts deeper inside you has you wishing for more than this. Yes it’s an affair but when it feels this good, as you furiously rub your clit, & his hand grips your hip, you can’t help but wonder. Does his wife get this or are you his outlet of passion? Is he a different man at home? Maybe domestic Dave isn’t a man you’d like. Maybe keeping him as sex on tap is exactly what you both need. But as you grind around his cock, clamping, each movement having you feel so full you don’t care that you’re a home wrecker. He is large, he might show well but he’s also a grower & the girth is always a pinch as it rubs against you. It amazes you how he fits inside you every time. & he is always so complimentary of your body especially your cunt.

“Keep going girl, look at you taking me all” he’s purring.” You like the feel don’t you, you’re so tight yet Damn, you take me so well” he’s into dirty mode now he’s going to get all derogatory as he pulls the tie. “What would your parents say huh?” He’s tugging on the tie every few thrusts what has you m gasping as it gets tighter “imagine you going home, your parents knowing exactly what you spend your spare time doing. Fucking a married man. Letting him fuck your arse. The gagging noises you make. Yea imagine If your father knew how his sweet & innocent little girl turned out. He’d be so disappointed.” He’s ramped up the pace as you whimper no longer in control of your hips they rock & roll around him. “Well I’m your daddy now girl, you answer to me.”

“Dave…” he tugs hard, it’s almost completely tight now the tie”Daddy”

“Say it again” he growls & thrusts & pulls harder.

“Daddy”

“Louder”

“Daddy oooh daddy”

“God it sounds erotic as you moan it” you look Dave straight in the eye as you turn your head.

“Oooh fuck me Daddy oooh fuckkkkk” You really moan it & your lips engulf each others. Tongues exploring where they want. Your hand in his hair keeping him in place as your body’s move in sync. Your sweet spot is being pummelled & it won’t be soon before this rug is covered in your slick. The sweat from the vigorous sex & the warmth of the fire is oozing from your naked bodies which are fucking away at each other. If anyone walked in on you, it would be the most sensual sexual erotic sight. Two people full of lust & desire, fucking each other to oblivion. A sexy sweaty mess which is so perfect. Your freshly washed hair sticking to your face. You don’t care. You’re in paradise & Dave knows he’s gonna cum as well soon.

“No need to wait baby, let go if you have to, all permission is out of the window.” He whispers before he once again finds your tonsils with his tongue. He slowly let his grip on the tie slide, one hand now flicking your nipple, the other is attending your clit as you grasp his thigh behind you & hold his mouth in place.

“Mmmmmmm”

“Don’t be shy baby”

“Dave”

“Yes”

“Oooh fuck Dave fuck fuck oh fuck” it’s like a grenade has just gone off. You experience such an intense high as you clamp & gush around his penis. You bite his bottom lip & pur & he needs no more encouragement.

“Fucking fuck oh shit” always amazed with the size of him there’s enough room for his cum to spill inside you. He licks the side of your face as he pants desperate for air in this hot & sticky room. His eyes close in euphoria, as yours flutter open. You love looking at Dave’s blissed our face when he cums. His neck always so long. That little dimple appears. How his lips pout. It’s enough to get you ready for another round. Looking at your lover, seeing him experience such a high which you helped happen. It’s the perfect come down for you.

The tie slides off your neck as you turn to face Dave, slowly removing his still hard cock from inside you. He throws his arms around you before you do with him.

“Incredible” he whispers in your ear.

“Phenomenal” you reply & smile. That little cute smile he adores. He kisses your nose & you rest your foreheads together as you hold each other close & smile. Small pecks helping you calm down.

“So…”

“So…”

“Every room huh?” Daves still asking you from earlier.

“Have you got the stamina baby” you ask Dave as your hand caresses his chest.

“Well not to do it all tonight…” he’s smirking “but considering what we just did we can definitely do each room in the cabin” he winks.

You lie in bed the next morning. Your body aches but it’s one you enjoy. Dave had continued to fuck you in front of the fire last night until you were both exhausted. You are guessing one of you extinguished it before making your way to bed. As you stretch your arms up with a big yawn you hear Dave.

“Ouch” he says rubbing his face from where you caught him. He’s sat in the bed straight looking at his phone.”morning beautiful”a small kiss finds your lips. “Well rested?”

“Yes Mr York” your sit up & wrap your arms around him & sigh. Your eyes then widen. Dave is watching you back from last night. He’s at the point where you’re just about to cum on his fingers & mouth. You turn bright red & go to look away & then you hear the noise you make & that turns you on. Dave can see the glint in your eyes. His hand is under the sheets pumping away at your exploits.

“See you look good, baby, so sexy” he kisses your forehead.

“I guess I do”

“& we’re not even upto the point where I fuck your arse.” You then hit pause on the video & look up at Dave.

“I don’t need to watch that, I want to experience that again…” you bite your bottom lip”… right now”

“You sure?” You nod in reply

“yes daddy”

“Well who am I to deny such a pretty innocent girl” he smiles & put his phone down. “Especially when you pucker & moan so well”

“Oooh Daddy” it’s a deep moan you make as your lips collide before he slowly turns you over for the next round of passion. This Cabin weekend will be one you both always remember.

[dameronology]

you and me [joel miller] - 1/2

"now i've had time to think it over, we're much older and the bone's too big to bury" - jaded, miley cyrus. a.k.a the one where you and joel see each other again and don't know what the fuck to do

warnings: angst, swearing, break-ups, swearing again because my god there is a lot, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, no tlou 2 spoilers but probably some spoilers from the show. ok i think that's it.

this is my first full length joel fic and tbh i'm not even sure i've got the hang of his character lol. also, it's been about four years since i played the game and i'm writing this from memory of that and the show so pls forgive any inaccuracies. hope you enjoy. xx

jazz

p.s there will deffo be a part 2 to this lol dw

2 0 1 8

Life outside the Quarantine Zone was different.

It was both better and worst; better because there was no military breathing down your back, but worst because the Infected roamed free. It made Joel more tense - even when he kept you firmly behind him, rifle ready to go and finger itching on the trigger - to know that they could be anywhere. Sure, the military sucked but the biggest threat now was the Infected, and you'd come to learn a long time ago that there was no point arguing with his overprotectiveness. It was warranted, after everything he'd been through, so you operated under three rules: he went first, you went second, and if anyone was going to die first, it was going to be him. That last part was the one you loathed the most but he wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Still, there were moments outside the QZ where he could let his guard down. When you were far enough away from civilisation, and far enough away from any hoards, he would let himself exist beside you, peacefully and at rest. Those nights camping - sometimes on the way to Bill and Frank's, or on a smuggling run - were his favourite. Sometimes it was beneath the stars, or beneath a tangle of trees. It was a tiny insight into what things could have been like in another life, without outbreaks and infected and constantly being on the move. They were moments he craved but so often, you found yourself hating them. Mostly because you knew they would eventually come to an end, but also because it was proof that you could exist out of the QZ. You'd felt like the place had been suffocating you for months. For you, it felt like a death sentence. Joel didn't love them either but he liked that you were both safe there. He could easily find you amongst the walls and you only ever left together. The thing that he thought was keeping you together was actually, in your mind, the thing that was driving you apart.

You'd pose the idea to him (for the tenth time) on a cold night, about four miles outside of the Boston QZ. The two of you had set up camp in the thickness of a forest; your tent was older than your respective ages combined and the fire was dwindling, but you were both content. Joel was leant against a tree, an arm wrapped around you and keeping you firmly to his side, free hand ready on his gun.

"I don't think I want to go back."

Joel peered down at you, quirking an eyebrow. "The hell are you talking about?"

"To the QZ," you said. "I don't want to go back to the QZ."

"This again?" he sighed - but you couldn't ignore the way his grip on you grew tighter. Tenser. "We've spoken about this a thousand times. The QZ is safe. It's...it's our home."

"Just because our stuff is that doesn't mean it's home," you murmured. "After this run, we could just take our stuff and go. We know the way out, we know how to run at this point, don't we?"

"It's dangerous out here," Joel reminded you. "We know how to be out here for limited periods of time. Those routes, those safe spaces and uninfected areas will run out eventually. So will our resources."

You sighed, sniffing. "Yeah. You're right. It's a silly idea."

"Hey...look, baby, don't get all mopey on me now," he shuffled slightly to the side, gently placing his hand on your cheek. "The main thing is that we have each other, wherever that may be. We've just gotta stick to the QZ for now but I promise, I'll get us out eventually. Just hang in there."

"Of course," you gave him a smile.

"It's you and me," he quietly added. "That's what matters."

"You and me," you'd replied. "I promise."

Still, Joel couldn't deny that he'd seen the light in you withering - the light that seemed to come back every time you were outside of the QZ. He knew you were stubborn; that once you had an idea in your head, that was it.

That's why he wasn't surprised to find you gone two weeks later.

2 0 2 3

Joel, my love,

I'm sorry. I'm never going to stop being sorry, but I tried to tell you a thousand times and you never listened.

I couldn't live that way any longer. I wanted to leave the QZ the day I got there, but then I met you, and I stayed longer than I ever imagined. You made it bearable - more than that. I just couldn't carry on anymore, especially knowing that the outside world may not be all that bad. It would be even better with you, but I can't force you to do something so drastic when you don't want to. That's not fair on you, but forcing myself to stay wouldn't be fair on me. Putting myself first feels like the worst thing in the world right now, but I have to do this. For me. I hope you can understand. I love you and I don't think I'll ever stop. I hope we cross paths again one day. It's you and me, always.

Joel Miller carried two things with, always. Three things, actually; his rifle, the letter you wrote him, and the grief that you'd left in your wake. It wasn't your fault - and Joel didn't blame you, not one bit - but he couldn't help but feel like it was his. You'd told him you'd been struggling and as he often did with his own emotions, he'd forced you to swallow it down. He thought that would have kept you together but unsurprisingly, it had driven you away.

Life, as it always had, went on. People came and went - though you never came back - and before long, Joel found himself trekking through Wyoming for the second time. Ellie had consumed all his priorities at that point. She had healed more than one of his wounds, but the night she'd found that letter in his bag and began asking questions had re-awoken Joel's yearning for you.

"Joel Miller, a relationship man? I never would have thought," she'd joked. And she hadn't really stopped asking questions since. She'd wanted to know how you met, how you fell in love, and most of all, why you'd left. Though, it didn't take a genius to guess.

The first time Joel had been in Jackson, he hadn't actually spent much time in Jackson. He'd been in the workshop, then in the bar with Tommy, and then he'd left with Ellie not long after. Now that he was there for the foreseeable future, he found himself wandering one morning. Ellie was still dead to the world, and he'd taken it as an opportunity to see what the fuss was actually all about.

Joel had never believed in ghost towns; maybe that was what this place had been for a while, but most of his ghosts resided back in Texas and Boston. Not Jackson. He had no history here; no one except from Tommy knew he was. Maybe he liked it that way. Maybe that was his chance for a fresh start, for him, and for Ellie...and for you, apparently.

He felt like he had seen a ghost the first time he saw you again. Coming in from patrol with Tommy and Maria, you were leading a horse at the front of the pack. You didn't look any older - if anything, the freedom and comfort that Jackson had brought you had de-aged you slightly. You were radiant; beautiful and shining and with the spark that Joel had always feared he'd strangled out of you by forcing you to stay in the QZ.

He hadn't meant to call out your name. It just sort of happened. It had been a whisper at first, actually, growing into a shout as he crossed the town square and towards the gates. You'd recognised his voice straight away but you hadn't actually believed it to be him. It wasn't until you saw him coming towards you that you realised. It hit you like a truck; actually Joel hit you like a truck, because he hadn't really thought about hugging you, and you in too much disbelief to hug him, so you sort of just fell to the ground in a pile-of-you-and-Joel-and-snow.

"What the fuck, Joel?!" your words had been muffled, on account for the mouthful of snow you had. "What the...what are you doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"You didn't answer my question," you shot back. Joel stood up, sticking out his hand to help you up. You were happy to see him - and he was happy to see you - but before the happiness, there was the other a thousand complex emotions that had risen in your time apart. "How on Earth did you get here from Boston?"

"Couldn't I be asking you all the same things?!" he'd demanded. He sighed, then, and faltered for a moment. "Shit. I can't believe it's you."

Joel took a deep breath, anger fading; he finally held his arms open to you, taking you into a warm, desperate hug for the first time in five years. Your bodies practically thudded together, arms tangled into one as you clung onto him. You didn't regret leaving - not one bit, now that you were here, not that you were free - but god, there had been days where you would have traded all of that freedom for one more day with Joel. There were no radios here, so you'd hadn't a clue if he was even still alive.

It had been worst for him, because he did have a radio. And he spent days waiting by it, hearing story after story about people being found dead, or new Infected being found by the walls of QZ. They had matched your description on more than one occasion, and after a while, he'd just assumed the worst.

Tommy cleared his throat. "I won't ask, but if you need a moment, the bar is empty."

You glanced at Joel. "Yeah. Thanks Tommy."

Trudging to the bar, with Joel in tow, you walked in silence. It wasn't that you didn't have anything to say, it was just that you didn't know where to start. You'd gone over this scenario a thousand times in your head but now that it had actually happened, you were speechless.

The bar was, as promised, completely dead. You stepped inside and locked the door behind you, heading straight to the whiskey shelf. A double Glen Morangie for you, and a double of the cheapest stuff for Joel. That had always been his favourite.

You took a seat opposite him, sliding the drink to him.

Joel's dark eyes flickered to the drink and then back up to you. "You remembered?"

"I didn't forget a single thing," you shot back. "I promise."

"It's funny - and forgive me if I sound shitty for saying this, but I hope you can understand my position right now - but your promises...I can't say they mean much," he murmured.

You faltered slightly, heart dropping in your chest. "I don't blame for you being angry at me, Joel. I left you and obviously that hurt but can't you see it from my perspective? I was drowning. You could see that I was fucking drowning and you just...you ignored me. You brushed it aside because of what you wanted-"

"- I wanted you," he cut you off. Joel downed his drink in one gulp, slamming the glass back on the table. "All I fucking wanted was you."

"You wanted me in the QZ," you reminded him. "I told you I couldn't stay. A thousand times, Joel, and you ignored me on every single occasion."

"And leaving was the solution?"

"Yeah," you said firmly. "Yeah, it was. I wondered for a while, maybe two years or so, and then I joined a bunch of other stragglers and we ended up here."

"And Jackson isn't suffocating?"

"When I can come and go as I please? When we have running water, electricity, houses and infrastructure?" you couldn't help but let out a derivative laugh. "For what it's worth, I've missed you."

Joel's angry guard quickly came down with your admission. He reached a hand out across the table, brushing a thumb over your palm.

"I've missed you too," he murmured. "The people on the radio...they always spoke about finding bodies and Infected, ones that matched your description. I assumed after a while you were dead."

"I'm sorry," you softly said. "I wish you knew how many times I thought about turning back. Even recently, I thought about it, but I was scared I was gonna come back and find you dead, or even worst that I would find you alive and that you wouldn't want to know-"

"- you think that me rejecting you is worst than me dying?" Joel raised an eyebrow, trying to fight back a smile. "You're always so fuckin' dramatic."

You smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"It hurt, y'know," he went quieter again, voice dropping to a whisper. "You leaving...I knew you spoke about it but I didn't think you'd do it. Not without me, at least. Not when I promised to try and get us out-"

"- you hurt me too, Joel," you admitted. "It was all well and good to say one day, I promise but when is one day? Every time I tried to tell you how I was feeling, you shut me down. You shut me out and then you shut me down."

"So you're sayin' I drove you away?"

You paused for a moment; you could have denied it, you could have said it was all your own doing and that Joel's purposeful ignorance to your suffering wasn't relevant. He wouldn't have believed you. There was no point in denying what he already knew was true.

"Yeah," you shrugged. "You did. And I'm sorry about it, okay? I'm sorry that I left, but I didn't do it because I stopped loving you, or because I wanted to get away from you. I had to get away from everything and there hasn't been a single fucking day since I left that I haven't thought about you, or missed you, or wished that you'd come with me..."

You stopped then, barely able to swallow the lump in your throat or ignore the tears that had formed in your eyes. Joel was feeling a too - maybe just not as visibly - but he so desperately wanted to take his words back.

"I don't know what I'm meant to do now," you continued. "Now that you're here...I don't know how long for-"

"- for the foreseeable future," he said. "I have a kid with me. She's not my kid, but she is my kid and....she's the best thing that happened to me since you. Don't tell her I said that."

You smiled slightly. "The foreseeable future, huh?"

"Yeah. This seems like the best place to be, compared to the rest of fuckin' country," Joel replied. "Especially if you're here."

"Right," you nodded, smile not faltering. "I'm glad you're here. Despite everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Despite everything?"

"You gotta understand, Joel, I'm over the fucking moon to see you. To know that you're alive, and well, and that..." you paused, trailing off.

One thing you hadn't expected to feel when you saw him again was hesitance. Anger, and resentment, and fucking hesitance. It was something you hadn't realised you were harbouring, but knowing that the man you loved had purposefully ignored the way you felt - even five years ago - hurt. You just hadn't realised how much til now, and seeing him had wrenched all those unhealed wounds right up, tearing them from the back of your brain and making them fresh all over again. Especially when he'd had the audacity to be angry at you - maybe rightfully so - but then not understanding why you might be angry at him.

There was an elephant in the room: what happened now? Did you get back together? Forget about everything that had happened, so that you could be happy again?

No. That ship had sailed. It had sailed, and then it had hit an iceberg and sank, and it had whatever versions of you and Joel that had existed then down with it.

You grabbed your drink, downing the whiskey in one gulp in the same way Joel had just moments earlier. "I'll see you around Joel."