#I thought they’d at LEAST give us two like last season

[stephaniejuhnay]

Remember in the old days when Ted Lasso dropped the first 3 episodes at once like DECENT HUMAN BEINGS?!?!?!

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

[luveline]

kbd steve and r dealing with two of the girls holding a grudge/fighting and helping them make up 🥹🥹🥹

kbd —mom!reader and dad!steve attempt to get their girls to forgive each other

“I thought they’d just forget,” you whisper. 

Steve looks over your shoulder, hand on your waist, the smell of hot butter bubbling on the stove like an itch in his nose. “Right? Like, they’d sleep and forget. Especially ‘cos they like sharing the bed.” 

Avery and Beth sit as far away from one another as is humanly possible. Beth sits with Dove toward the head of the table, frowning as her little sister climbs onto her legs and tries to comb her hair, while Avery sits by the open kitchen door. She’s pretending to poke at the snail that lives under the stoop, but she’s really on the edge of tears. 

They’re fighting because Avery took one of Beth’s fruit slices yesterday at lunch (warm pastries that all the kids can’t get enough of). When Steve asked her about it, she lied and said Beth actually ate one of her fruit slices, and Beth had been so betrayed she actually got mad. Beth never gets mad. 

Avery couldn’t take the guilt, confessing in tears the night before that she’d lied, and so you and Avery knocked Beth’s door together to apologise. Only Beth didn’t forgive her. 

It’s weird to see them not getting along. Avery and Beth are so sweet to each other usually. It’s odd that they aren’t sharing their breakfast, that they aren’t trying to feed the baby her mushy eggs. You and Steve are used to a more lovey-dovey feeling in the mornings. 

You dip down to sit with Avery when she does eventually start crying. “What’s the matter?” you whisper. 

Steve knows you’ve got the reins on that one, taking a seat by the other disgruntled party. 

“Is she crying?” Beth asks him softly. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

“‘Cos of me?” 

“It’s not like that.” He pulls Dove off of Beth’s lap before the toddler can trample her. Dove frowns at him but decides to allow it, resting in a lump against his chest. He pats her back. “She feels bad that she upset you, and she lied, and she wishes you were feeling better.” 

It must be strange to be young and be terrified that nobody will believe you, even over something as small as a fruit slice. Steve can’t imagine what he’d feel like now having to justify things to his parents. Or maybe it was that Avery’s never done something like that, at least not that Beth could remember. 

“She lied,” Beth stresses. 

“I know. But she did say sorry, honey, and she promised you two of her fruit slices today to make up for it. Maybe we can be friends again?” Steve says. 

If Beth wants to be mad a little while longer, that’s okay, but from the looks of her where she’s looking back and forth between Steve and the open kitchen door, she’s ready to forgive, or make her sister feel better at the very least. 

“It’s nice to forgive someone,” Steve says. “It’s kind. Avery didn’t wanna get in trouble, but she got you in trouble instead, so it’s cool if you’re still grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

Steve gives her an encouraging smile. “I know. It’s up to you, baby. Between you and me though, I think Avery’s super duper sorry.” 

In your lap, Avery sniffles. Dove climbs down off of Steve as Beth slips from her chair, then looks back for Steve. “Will you tell her I’m not mad?” Beth asks him. 

He wriggles his fingers. She takes his hand. 

It’s an unusually cold morning for the season, Steve can see your arms have wrinkled with goosebumps where they’re wrapped tight behind Avery’s back. You’d already given her a scolding for lying last night, and you and Steve are one and done with parenting; you don’t comfort her reluctantly, you just comfort. “It’s okay,” you say under your bread, swaying her from one side to the other. 

“Hey,” Steve says, crouching down to catch your attention. 

“Hello.” You see Beth, and you smile with relief. “Hi.” 

“Beth has something she wants me to tell you, Ave,” he says, nudging her arm gently with his knuckles to catch her attention. She peers up tearily from your arm. “She said she’s not mad anymore, okay? She wants to be friends again.” 

Avery looks at Beth cautiously. “Really?” she asks. It’s hard not to hear how hopeful she sounds. Steve feels extremely sympathetic, and he can’t help thinking she’s cute. She’s such a sweetheart, just like Beth, and Dove, and baby Wren he’s sure will end up the same. Like you. He can’t count how many times you and him have argued over the years, but every time it ends with you being more sorry than you need to be, and usually some of Steve’s guilty tears. 

“Yes,” Beth says, “so please don’t cry anymore.” 

Avery pouts. “You wanna give your sister a hug?” you prompt. 

Avery jumps up and throws herself at Bethie, almost knocking her younger sister down. Steve puts his hand behind them to stop a calamity. “I’m sorry, Bethie,” Avery squeaks, her voice high with upset and scratchy as she squeezes Beth tightly. 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad!” 

“I know!” Avery sniffles. “I’m still sorry. I told dad you ate my slice but you didn’t, I’m sorry.” 

“She’s forgiven you, baby,” you say, patting Avery’s shoulder. “It’s all water under the bridge. Yeah?” 

Beth holds Avery by the arm as they pull away. “Yeah. Water un’ the bridge.” 

“Thank you,” Avery says. “I don’t like when you’re mad.”

You and Steve make similar expressions of love and empathy over their small heads.  

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?  

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[cheynovak]

Last Christmas

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a close friend of Sam and Dean, secretly struggles with her feelings for Dean as Christmas approaches, knowing it might be his last due to his demon deal. She convinces Sam to decorate the motel room and celebrate christmas one last time.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

Inspiration: season 3 ep. 8: A Very Supernatural Christmas

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

It had been a long, grueling hunt. Y/N was exhausted, the adrenaline still wearing off as she leaned against the motel wall. Sam and Dean were nearby, packing away their gear with quiet efficiency. Even after years of hunting together, there was a comfort in their silence, a rhythm they’d all fallen into. But tonight, something felt different—heavier, like the weight of the world was pressing harder than usual.

Y/N stole a glance at Dean. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused on the weapons in front of him, but she knew his mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about the demon deal he made—the deal that was hanging over all of their heads like a dark, looming cloud. He’d given up his life to save Sam’s, and now his days were numbered. The thought alone twisted her heart, and she found herself staring longer than she should have.

“Y/N, you okay?” Sam’s voice snapped her back to reality. She quickly looked away from Dean, her cheeks warming.

“Yeah, just… tired,” she mumbled, forcing a smile. But Sam didn’t buy it, his brows furrowing as he studied her. He was always good at seeing right through her, but thankfully, he let it go this time.

Dean, however, didn’t seem to notice. He was already halfway out the door, saying something about grabbing food for the night.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turned to Sam, trying to shift the mood.

“So… Christmas is in a couple of days,” she started, her voice soft, testing the waters.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, not really in the mood this year.”

Y/N had expected that. Dean’s deal hung over everything, making it hard to think about anything happy or festive. Still, she couldn’t help but want to give him something—one last Christmas, maybe, if things didn’t turn around. She had to try.

“Come on, Sam. I know things are… hard right now. But maybe we can do something small. For Dean’s sake, at least. It might be good for him—good for all of us.”

Sam hesitated, his jaw tightening. He stared at the floor, his conflict evident. “Y/N…”

“Please, Sam,” she interrupted, her voice almost pleading. “I just want this Christmas to be special. It might be our last with him.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Y/N saw Sam’s resolve crack, and finally, he nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Fine. I’ll take care of the eggnog,” he muttered,

--

Christmas eve arrived, Dean was out to get food thinking it would be a normal evening.

While Sam worked on the eggnog, Y/N busied herself with decorating the room. She strung up some old lights she’d found in a thrift store, their colorful glow bringing a little warmth to the cold, drab motel room. She even found a small, plastic Christmas tree earlier in the week, setting it up on the nightstand. It wasn’t much, but it felt a little like home.

As she adjusted the lights, she couldn’t help but think about Dean again. The feelings she’d been hiding for him for so long were bubbling closer to the surface. There was a chance this might be his last Christmas, and that thought sent a sharp pang through her chest. What if she never told him? What if he never knew how much he meant to her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Dean walked in, his arms full of takeout bags and a couple of poorly wrapped presents.

“Well, look at this,” he said, his voice bright with surprise. “You two went all out. Kinda makes this crap motel room look… festive.”

Y/N grinned, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her. At least Dean seemed to appreciate the effort.

“Got you some food,��� he said, setting the bags on the table. “And a couple of things to open, you know, for the hell of it.”

Y/N and Sam exchanged a look, their silent agreement to make this night something good for Dean. Y/N grabbed her own gifts from her bag—a couple of books for Sam (ones she knew he’d devour in no time) and a shirt for Dean with a classic Chevy logo on it.

“Here,” she said, handing them over with a smile.

Sam gave her a grateful nod, flipping through the pages of one of the books before setting it aside. Dean, on the other hand, held up the shirt, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Chevy, huh? You know me too well, sweetheart.”

Her heart skipped at the nickname, but she covered it with a laugh. “Figured you could use a shirt to work on baby, so you don't get all your good shirt dirty with oil.”

Sam handed her a small, neatly wrapped gift, and she opened it to find a bottle of shampoo—her favorite kind, the one she was always complaining about never finding on the road.

“I… I know it’s not much,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I saw it and thought of you.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It’s perfect, Sam. Thank you.”

Then Dean handed her his gift—a bottle of cheap perfume, the kind you’d find at a gas station. But when she opened it and took a whiff, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it smelled pretty nice.

“I know it’s nothing fancy,” Dean said, a little sheepish. “But it smelled good, and I thought…”

Y/N couldn’t help but keep sniffing the bottle, a grin on her face. “Dean, I love it. Really, it’s… nice.”

Sam noticed the atmosphere in the room chance when Y/N kept looking at his brother while smelling her perfume covered wrist.

The second Sam closed the bathroom door Dean shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I really love it Dean, thank you." Y/N said. “Yeah, well… I had another gift in mind. This one was just easier to wrap.”

Y/N looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Dean hesitated for just a moment, then took a step closer. His green eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something in them—something vulnerable, something he usually hid behind jokes and bravado.

Before she could process what was happening, Dean leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. Her breath hitched, and for a second, everything else—the looming deal, the darkness of their lives—faded away.

All that mattered was this moment.

Him.

When he finally pulled back, Dean looked a little unsure of himself, but there was a small, crooked smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered.

--

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33

@mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573

@kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28

@kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24

@spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch

@deadlydivergentgirl @livya99 @deansimpalababy

[justanother-janedoe]

Marry You

Summary: What does the person the lawyer who's known what she's wanted all her life decide to do for her wedding? Seriously, what does she do?

Word Count: 1.2k

Harvey Specter x Reader (she/her)

*This isn't really set in a specific time on Suits; just somewhat near the last few seasons. It's been a while since I've watched it but I really wanted to post this story idea so I hope you enjoy.

From a young age you always knew what you wanted. At 7 you realized you wanted to become a lawyer. At 16 you decided to attend Harvard. And when taking your first steps into Pearson Hardman, meeting the 'Harvey Specter', there you knew from his iconic smirk he'd be an important person in your life.

So when you couldn’t make a single decision for the wedding this made Donna, concerned to say the least. 

At Donna's desk early in the morning

“Special order for one Donna Paulsen.'' Rachel said, placing the coffee cup in front of an exhausted Donna. 

“You're an angel.” Donna says looking frustrated 

"I got your SOS. What's wrong?" Rachel said, looking worried. 

"Wedding plans."

“Is there too much to do? I told you if you need any help at all I’ll be there-”

“No, that’s the thing. We haven’t made a single decision yet.”

"I mean it does take time to plan a whole wedding."

"But it's been months; you would think by now we’d have an idea for a theme. All we’ve done is look at tons of cake flavors, venue options, themes; but nothing seems to resonate with her.” Donna said, pulling out binder after binder of wedding decisions. 

It seemed that whenever they’d go over planning you would avoid it, trying to push finalizing for another time. (Not picking a wedding season, let alone date).

"Yeah, that's a bit weird..."

"I know."

"So why don't you talk to her about it?"

"It's just. Ever since she asked me to be her maid of honor I knew I'd do anything to give her the wedding of her dreams. But she's rather focus on her cases than sit down and make a decision. I'm just feeling so frustrated. I want to help her but I can't." Donna said, laying her head behind the stack of binders, eyes fluttering from tiredness. 

"Look. Why don't we just put this aside and see how tomorrow goes.” Rachel said, pushing the binders away. 

“We're all going wedding dress shopping, maybe once she tries on a couple of dresses she’ll get a clearer idea of what kind of wedding she wants."

"You're right."

"I always am."

"Hey, that's my line!" Donna exclaimed.

At a brand named wedding dress shop the next day

As the consultant described the dress you had on you couldn't help but feel odd. Not that the dress was bad. But with every gown you couldn't envision yourself walking down the aisle in any of them.

"So what do you think?" the consultant asked the room, waking you from your thoughts.

"It's beautiful."

"You look gorgeous."

"I'm bored."

"Louis!" Donna lightly scolded.

"Not of this but the dress. It just doesn't radiate how special she is. How is she supposed to take photos, smile happily, and look back fondly at this moment in her life when all she's wearing is this boring thing."

"Sir this is an Oscar De La Renta-" the consultant tried to pitch in.

"And this is about to be Miss Specter so I suggest we look at some other dresses to save us from wasting our time at this establishment." Louis said, turning away in frustration.

In the dressing room

"That Louis Specter sure sounds like a handful." the consultant said assisting you.

"Oh God if he heard you call him that. His ego is already inflated-" you said grinning at the consultant's assumptions about your relationship; probably more normal than the reality.

"I need to speak with you." Louis spoke after he knocked on the changing room door.

"Does it have to be right now?"

"Yes it's an emergency!"

"Could you please give us a moment?" you asked the consultant who promptly left.

"What's wrong?"

"This!" Louis said, pointing at you exasperated.

"You've lost me."

"What I mean is my two best friends are getting married to each other. You both aren’t treating this as passionately as you do in your cases. I’ve seen more fire in your eyes when defending clients than today. I mean I am truly concerned as Harvey's best man.-"

"Okay Louis. Calm down." you said, holding onto Louis' shoulders but clearly growing worried from his speech. While a part of her wanted to jest about Louis' borderline obsessive view on her, he was right. 

“I appreciate your candor, truly. I’m just… feeling a bit lost at the moment.”

“Should I call Harvey then. I mean he’d probably ignore me but I could get Donna to-”

"No Louis. I do want to marry Harvey. I swear I do."

"That's exactly what I wanna hear, especially on that big day."

“Thanks Louis.”

“Of course. I mean we really need to get your mojo back if I’m buying your dress.”

“Buying my-Louis you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t even worry about the price. I offered to pay for Harvey too but he said he didn’t want me finding out about where he gets his suits…”

As Louis went on talking like he always did you felt appreciative of the deep caring nature he had; even if it was a bit eccentric. 

Late night in you’s Office

"You know working such late hours like this isn’t beneficial to your health right?" Harvey said, leaning against you’s door frame to her office.

“We’ll then. I guess I’ll have to fight the case beyond the grave.” you said, getting up to properly greet Harvey. As you gives him a quick peck on the lips he holds onto you a bit longer. 

“Hold on." Harvey said guiding you both to the couch in your office.

"So I might have overhead from a couple birds that you’ve been having a bit of trouble with the wedding planning. Now I know I’ve been gone for an unbelievable amount of time, but I just want you to know that you could tell me anything."

Harvey said looking at you tenderly.

"Seriously. Whether you wanted to elope or take 12 years until we have the perfect wedding; I'll support your choice no matter what." Harvey joked.

"We'll I don't think I'll take that long... I guess a part of me wants to blame it on you for leaving but deep down I know this life we chose isn’t exactly flexible.”

You started unraveling your nervous feeling on the wedding.

“ I’m just a bit overwhelmed by the fact that we’re officially together.”

“So these last few years we’re just a friendship?” Harvey jokes to lighten the mood.

“Yeah didn’t you get the memo. I guess it was misspelled. I meant best friend not boyfriend.” you joked along. 

“What I mean is for most of my life I never had to think of others. God I sound so selfish for saying that; but it’s true. The choices I’ve made have been simple to make because I knew everything it'd entail. Any other option would be pointless... While marrying you, being together has been-"

"Amazing, spectacular, just grand..." Harvey interjected to brighten your mood like he always knew how to.

"Yes. Planning a wedding though; I have no idea what I want for us. I mean there are so many flavors of cake and decorations to consider-"

"That's probably on me actually." Harvey said, referring to his business trip

"You think." you said sarcastically.

"I know going with Mike to set up in Seattle before planning our wedding wasn't the brightest decision. But I'd like to make it up to you. Because I really do want to marry you. From now on I'll be right beside you."

"Thank you Harvey."

"I mean it. " Harvey said holding both your hands and looking at you intently.

"I know you've had to make decisions for yourself for the most part but I just want you to know... Your not alone anymore. For all the parts you feel unsure of in life, I'll be there to catch you and push you back up again."

"That was so beautiful. Did you plan that?"

"That may or may not be a couple lines from my vows. Just act surprised when you hear them on the day. Speaking of what do you think about November?"

"For the wedding?"

"Yeah it's right around the time we started to get to know eachother..."

"You're such a romantic Harvey Spector."

"We'll your about to marry me so what does that say about you."

"We're just a couple of romantics I guess." you say as Harvey kisses you deeply.

Breaking the kiss you exhaled a breath. “You're relentless.”

“Well I’m sure it's one of the things you find attractive about me.” he said walking to her office couch; looking romantically into her eyes.

“I could think of a couple more things.” she said walking in a way Harvey thought was iconic. Like a scene in a movie. 

“PG-13?” he asked, stroking you’s arm as she sat on his lap.

“More like rated R.” she said, hands holding his face.

“Kinky.” he said, kissing her. If he were to tell others the way she made him feel, he’d be dubbed a romantic. But the truth was every time Harvey and you kissed it felt like the world faded like that scene in West Side Story. 

“While being caught and embarrassed by the whole office sounds like an interesting night, why don’t we go home?” you said, getting up from their close position.

“As if this office hasn’t seen worse things.” Harvey said, smiling in that playful way that made you feel light. Grabbing you’s coat as you went to get your purse putting you’s coat on for you. Turning around and giving Harvey a peck as you walked together.

Feeling relaxed and lonely no more you we're now exited not only to plan the wedding with Harvey but spend your future together. Knowing that while the future may hold some unpredictable moments you can share them with Harvey by your side.

Author’s Notes

Hello, thank you so much for reading this. If your familiar with my work you may know that I’ve been absent for a long time. But I’m motivated again to write. This may not be my best work but I feel proud of this. 

If your interested in a part 2 or more Harvey Specter stories let me know.

Anyways I hope you have a good day.

:)

[nina-renmen]

Just wanted to pop in and say that I love your writing ✨ it makes my day when you post!

Also whenever you have time and the motivation, would it be okay to have another part to the polar bear reader?

Thank you! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep making these stories!

Part 1

Warnings: Minimum nsfw themes and a bit of fluff, I kinda rushed this so please let me know if there are any mistakes. Constructive criticism is welcomed

Price wasn’t sneaky. At least with you he wasn’t. Your monster form was more adapted to the wild than his. You were younger, faster. Even though he was undoubtedly stronger than you he wouldn’t be able to use it if you could always outrun him. Your jaws were more powerful than his and yet you surrounded yourself with him.

Sometimes the older male wondered why. If he were you he wouldn’t even spare himself a glance. He’d try to find someone stronger than himself.

“Stop thinking so hard about it.” Y/n’s voice snapped Price out of his thoughts. She laid on the snowy ground, chewing on a bloodied bone from a human she’d hunted.

“Hard not to when spring is coming around.” Price said in a gruff voice. That’s right, mating season was coming quickly. The more he looked at you the more he found himself looking at your hips. Thinking about the way they’d hold his cubs nicely. He wondered if you’re stomach would show or if you’re body would keep his children hidden.

When y/n stood up that snapped him out of his thoughts once more. A growl ripped from her throat causing the male to stand up as well. His muscles tense until he spotted one of his men.

“He’s friendly.” Price put his hand on y/n’s shoulder.

“Looks like you found yourself a new pet Captin. Isn’t this the one that slashed Gaz’s face?” His voice was gruff, almost like Price’s.

“Gaz got his punishment for provoking her. End of discussion Ghost.” Price argued, standing in front of you.

“First soap now you….great.” The unknown man said sarcastically.

“What do you mean by that?” Price questioned, getting more defensive over you. “Nothing! He means nothing.” Another male voice pipped up. It was the man that gave you back your food. Price turned around, looking at soap suspiciously. “What do you two have going on?”

“Spring is coming up.” Ghost said.

“And? You don’t necessarily have a mating season.” Price retorted. Folding his arms over his chest. “But Soap does. I owe him one for saving my ass the other night.”

Price pulled you behind him. “Nobody’s touching her.”

“Oh com’on Captin.” Soap interjected, taking a step toward you. His hands reaching out, letting y/n lean into the warmth of his hands. “You see the way her legs clench whenever she’s around you or me. It’s obvious the little thing-“

“You back the fuck off.” Price grabbed your arm, pulling you away from him. “She’s mine-“

“I’m not anyones!” Y/n exclaimed, tearing herself away from Price’s grasp. “You all need to leave…go back where you came from. Obviously the cold isn’t good for any of you.” Y/n spoke in an urgent voice.

“Y/n wait I didn’t mean-“ Price trailed off seeing your back turn towards him. Leaving the premises.

It wasn’t like team 141 could just get up and go. They were to be stationed there for quite some time. You were going to run into them again. It was inevitable. It snowed one last time just before spring would come by. Y/n was in the cold attic waters, a fish in between her locked jaws as she made her way back to her den. The sound of twigs snapping caught her attention. Turning around quickly the person behind her put their hands up in surrender.

It was that damn bird hybrid.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at Gaz. Her distrustful gaze locked onto him. “I-I’m friendly.” He stuttered. “What do you want?” Y/n muttered as she began walking away, giving Gaz the choice to follow her. To which he did.

“To apologize.” He spoke up above the snow that was slowly growing heavier. “I thought you were a panda or-“

“I get it.” Y/n grumbled as she walked towards her den. “So….you’re not mad?” Gaz asked. Crouching down by your den but not going inside. “I’m not one to hold grudges.” Y/n said as she curled up in her den. The snow had picked up. The winds growing harsher. Y/n looked over at Gaz sensing his unease with that harsh weather. The poor bird didn’t even have any feathers to keep him warm. “Come on…you can lay with me until the storm moves out.” Y/n said, switching into her monster form, moving to her right in other to give the harpy some space.

The man was hesitant. Rightfully so. But nevertheless he entered the den. Sitting a safe distance away from y/n. But as the minutes passed by the den soon began getting cold. And within an hour the two were practically snowed in.

The bear hybrid woke up. She looked over seeing Gaz huddled in a corner. Trying to collect as much warmth as possible. “Are you just going to freeze to death or are you going to come over here?” Y/n asked, motioning the male to come closer to which he did.

His cold body coming in contact with y/n’s warmth. She was like a warm blanket to him. Within minutes Gaz was asleep, his soft snores filling up the den. Lulling y/n to sleep as well.

“Captin…have you seen Gaz?” Soap questioned. “I’ve been looking for the lad everywhere but I can’t find him.” Price only shrugged his shoulders. To which Ghost spoke up. “He left for the forest by the creek.”

Soap glanced worriedly at the Lieutenant. “Isn’t that where y/n lives?” He asked. “Shit…..you’re right.” Price stood up. Grabbing his jacket. “You just let him go?!” Soap exclaimed turning towards Ghost to which he only shrugged. “I’m not his father.”

Johnny scoffed. Following his captain out the building. Who knows what could be happening as of now. You could be mawing the harpy’s face off now. And with the spring rolling by who knows how out of wack your emotions could be.

He just hopped he wasn’t too late.

[preet-01]

A quick little dewis fic set in 2025 with helmet designer Daniel

Lewis didn’t usually do many special helmets. He did one or two, sometimes three depending on the situation. But Lewis liked to stick to his chosen helmet design for the season. 

Or at least that was what he liked to do before he’d met the newest addition to the design studio that did most of his helmets. 

Now forty years old – having celebrated his birthday just a few days ago – Lewis is sure that most of his season off-time will be spent at a design studio and if not that, then wondering what new excuse he could make to go back to the studio. 

“Since it’s Ferrari…” Lewis has no idea how the sentence finishes as he’s too busy staring at the curly-haired man in front of him.  “How does that sound?” Daniel questions, completely catching Lewis off guard. 

But he is not one to admit he was caught lacking or too busy staring at the pretty helmet designer to know a single thing they’d discussed. So Lewis replies, “yeah.” 

“Wonderful!” Daniel grins, “I know it’s a bit different from what you’ve done in previous years, but you’ve also never driven for Ferrari before.” 

Lewis is unsure of what he’s agreed to, but it has Daniel grinning at him and Lewis likes that. “When should I come to pick up the helmet?” Lewis questions – never once has he been the one to pick up a helmet. More often than not, it was delivered to his doorstep or picked up by an assistant. However, there had also never been such temptation waiting within these walls for him to seek out. 

_____

Daniel wasn’t there when Lewis picked up the helmet – he was out sick with the flu and had sent his apologies via email. In his place is a black helmet with the yellow of the Ferrari emblem used for the designs. It’s different from his helmets in recent years, just as Daniel had said during that first meeting. 

_____

He’s in China when there’s an email from the design studio waiting in his inbox. The subject is simple: NIGHT RACE HELMET??????

Attached is a concept design of a rainbow glitter helmet and a note: was thinking back to the first saudi arabian gp and couldn’t get this helmet design outta my mind… whaddya think???? is it perfect or is it perfect??? meet at the studio when ur back in uk?? – Danny Ric 

Lewis is quick to reply with a yes and set up a day for him to go to the studio. He hadn’t given much thought to a special helmet for Saudi Arabia, but with Daniel offering it, well he’d be crazy to say no. 

On a Tuesday, Lewis walks into the studio to see Daniel already waiting for him near the front desk. “Hi,” Daniel says with a bright smile and iPad in hand. “I was thinking we could discuss this over coffee? The break room coffee machine broke and-” 

“That would be lovely,” Lewis says eagerly. 

There’s a coffee shop just a two minutes walk from the studio that Daniel sometimes goes to and supposedly has the best selections of vegan desserts. 

Lewis didn’t usually get blowjobs from pretty boys in coffee shop bathrooms, but when they looked at him like he was the last slice of cake, then, well, he was only a man. 

_____

For Imola, his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis has a tribute helmet for Niki. And unfortunately, that doesn’t require him to go into the studio. However, he does now have Daniel’s number and frequently texts him. 

_____

Lewis doesn’t return to Monaco after Spain, instead, he heads to London. “Does Ferrari not give its drivers rentals?” Daniel questions, leaning against a baby blue MINI Cooper. 

“They do, but the Ferrari rentals don’t come with pretty helmet designers,” Lewis retorts, leaning in for a quick kiss. 

“Speaking of helmets-” Daniel’s cut off by another kiss. 

“Home now, helmets later,” Lewis mumbles against Daniel’s lips. It had been much too long since they last saw one another and while the blowjobs and phone sex was great, he had other plans for the Australian. 

They go to Daniel’s apartment, instead of the penthouse Lewis owns on the other side of London. It’s much cozier and warmer than the penthouse. Sketches are pinned onto a wall where a large desk with all sorts of drawing supplies is. Unlike Lewis’ own penthouse which had been curated by an interior designer, Daniel’s apartment is filled with stuff Daniel had seen and wanted to keep. It shouldn’t be cohesive, individually all of the pieces shouldn’t work together, but somehow it all seems to make sense. 

He doesn’t get much time to appreciate the drawings and the decor before he’s being pushed towards the bedroom and pulled onto the bed. Not that Lewis minds one bit, everything will still be there once they’re done or the next morning. 

Helmet discussions happen in the morning, The Canada helmet is all ready to go and waiting for Lewis to take with him when Daniel drops him off at Heathrow a few days before the race weekend begins. And there’s a Silverstone helmet in the works that they’d been texting about. But there are still a few more races that Daniel has ideas for and Lewis is a man who loves to see Daniel excitedly talk about his designs. 

It’s a no-brainer that they end up finalizing designs for Monza, Singapore, Brazil, and Vegas. 

_____

He wins in Silverstone and has no qualms about taking Daniel to his driver's room just before the post-race press conference. “Could you…ah… keep the suit on?” Daniel had asked shyly. By the end of it, Lewis is sure that Daniel had licked the champagne clean from his neck. 

_____

Media day in Abu Dhabi goes as expected. It’s the same old questions repeated time and time again throughout the day. He cannot wait for the season to be over. He won’t get to see Daniel until New Year’s Day, but until then he does have time with his family planned. 

So to his utter surprise, Daniel waiting for him in his driver’s room is completely unexpected but not at all unwelcomed. 

“Baby?” Lewis questions. 

“Turns out Abu Dhabi is on the way home,” Daniel replies. “Then I might’ve pulled some strings to get a paddock pass,” Daniel continues as he walks closer to Lewis. “You aren’t the only driver I design helmets for,” this time Lewis gets a kiss. 

“Really? Which other drivers should I be worrying about?” Lewis asks. 

“None of them are as handsome as you, darling,” Daniel retorts, “nor do I think any of them are capable of fucking me like you do.” 

“So who else is the lucky driver?” Lewis asks. 

“None on the grid right now, but I did get in touch with one Sebastian Vettel who was very curious as to why you’ve been making so many special helmets this season. His curiosity was satiated when he saw me apparently,” Daniel explains. Well that explains the mysterious texts he’d gotten from Sebastian earlier in the week. “Have a surprise for you,” Daniel says as his hands work on unbuckling the pants Lewis had worn to the paddock. 

“I thought you were the surprise,” Lewis replies. 

“Two surprises then, but first,” Daniel states, getting on his knees. 

_____

The surprise is a special helmet with ‘I Love You’ in Italian inscribed on the bottom edge. The last for the season, but far from the last special helmet to be designed by Daniel for Lewis. But this one, Lewis thinks, will forever be one of his favorites. 

[blueskrugs]

sleeping with someone | Nick Blankenburg

I used parts of this fic to cope with the fact that I graduate in a few days. pay no mind to the existential crisis. I think I also listened to too much of stick season while writing this

this one got away from me a teeny, tiny bit. i promise all 14,000 words are worth it. 

length: 14.2k words

Nick Blankenburg breaks up with Mikayla Williams three weeks after he gets back to Michigan after Worlds. She doesn’t see it coming until Nick’s standing in front of her and saying, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Mikayla blinks at him. Nick looks determined, the same stubborn look that she’s grown to love on his face. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I don’t think long-distance is going to work anymore, Mikkie.”

They’d barely had a chance to do long-distance at all. It had only been a few weeks between Michigan crashing out of the Frozen Four, then Nick signing a contract with Columbus and finishing out the season there, before being whisked off to Worlds. She thought it had been going fine—they texted often and Nick called when their schedules lined up enough to allow for it. Nick clearly didn’t think the same thing. He’s still looking at Mikayla with that stubborn set to his mouth, waiting for her to respond. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say next. 

“You’re really breaking up with me? Just like that?” They’d been together almost three years. They’d started to talk about their plans for the future. 

Nick shrugs. “I’m going to be getting a new contract this summer, probably, and I really want to be able to experience the NHL fully, y’know?”

So that’s how it is. Mikayla lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re saying that you want to sleep around without the guilt of a girlfriend back home.” Nick blushes, but refuses to back down. “Have a good life, Blankenburg.”

She pushes past him, unlocks her apartment door at last. She’s glad Nick at least waited to dump her until after they’d finished brunch, after he had walked her back home. Nick’s still standing by her door with his hands in his pockets when the door slams behind Mikayla.

Mikayla wishes she could say she moves on easily after that. She’s too angry to feel broken-hearted over it, at first. She collects all of Nick’s clothes that she’s pilfered over the years: sweatshirts and T-shirts and one extremely comfortable pair of sweatpants she’s actually pretty sad to give up. She shoves it all in a box and leaves it by her front door for another week. 

She makes a detour to Washington on her way back home to Saginaw for the summer, drops the box off on the Blankenburgs’ porch after she knows Nick’s just had knee surgery and can’t come out and talk to her. 

After that, she tries not to think about it. 

This is the first summer Mikayla has been single since she started college, and she’ll be damned if she lets moping about Nick ruin it. There will be time for that later. 

So Mikayla drives up to the Bay and tans on the beach with her friends, she spends time on Haithco Lake, and she goes out to the same bars as everyone else in her age in Saginaw. She deflects questions that her friends from high school ask about Nick—“We’re taking a break,” she says, drunk in the back of the bar, getting sunburned in a kayak on Haithco. “I’m fine,” she tells her mom, getting home late, stumbling over the sandals she’s just kicked off by the front door.

It’s her best friend who sees through her first, only a few weeks into the summer. 

“What?” Mikayla asks flatly, popping another grape into her mouth as she watches Jake watch her, a serious look on his face that she can’t read. 

“You’re really okay with Nick dumping you like that?” he asks. “Everyone thought you two would get married in a few more years.”

Mikayla forces herself to shrug. She’d been one of those people who thought she and Nick were going to get married, too. “We just grew out of each other I guess. Nick wanted to move on.”

Move on in life, move on from her. 

Mikayla surveys Jake back. They’d been inseparable themselves since middle school. A lot of people had thought they’d be the ones to fall in love and get married, until Mikayla stayed in Michigan for college and Jake had fucked off to Mississippi State to play baseball. All they had these days was the summer. 

“Things change, shit happens,” she adds. 

Jake doesn’t look impressed by her flippancy. “What really happened?” he asks.

Mikayla’s first single summer is also the first summer she’s turned up without Nick in tow in years. People noticed faster than she would have liked. She’d been trying her hardest to run away from the truth, but she’s always known it would catch up to her eventually. 

She forces another shrug. Jake’s still looking at her, too-serious for the sunny summer day, so she doesn’t think she’s coming off as casual as she wants to be. 

“Told me he wanted to ‘experience the NHL fully,’ whatever the fuck that means,” she says after she lets the silence drag on too long. She bites down on another grape, the satisfying crunch of it soothing her flaring temper. She barrels on, “He decided he wanted to be able to fuck other girls, that I wasn’t enough anymore, I don’t know. I guess it’s better than just cheating on me.”

Jake stares at her. “That’s shitty,” he says. He shoves his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You know what you have to do, right?” he asks eagerly.

“Spend the summer getting drunk and then focus on graduating?” Mikayla asks. She doesn’t like the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes.

Jake scoffs. “You’re so boring. No, if Nick’s going to fuck around, what’s stopping you? Hot girl summer it up, baby! There’s nothing holding you back!”

Mikayla bursts out laughing. “Please never say hot girl summer around me again.” She throws a grape at Jake, considering his words; he flails, trying desperately to catch it in his mouth and narrowly avoiding toppling out of his chair. “Who exactly am I supposed to fuck around with?” she asks. Jake straightens up and shoots her a maniacal grin. She holds up a hand. “Not that I’m considering it, just—“ 

Saginaw isn’t a small town, but it functions enough like one. Everyone they went to high school with still runs in the same circles, the same friend groups coming together at parties when everyone flocks home for the summer. They’re not close enough to the Bay to garner a real tourist presence. If Mikayla were to sleep with anyone in Saginaw, everyone and their mother would know within a week. Sleeping around is way, way out of the picture. 

Jake falls silent. Mikayla thinks he’s going to drop it, until he says, “I’m single.”

“No, what? I’m not sleeping with my best friend,” Mikayla protests. Jake knows her well enough to tell that the protest is half-hearted, judging by the raised eyebrows he points at her. 

Jake doesn’t push. He’s smirking, though, waiting Mikayla out. 

Jake had been Mikayla’s first kiss, tucked away in a hidden corner at one of Jake’s baseball tournaments their sophomore year of high school. They’d never really entertained the idea of going any further than that, no matter what everyone else thought they would do. 

Jake’s still the only guy Mikayla’s ever kissed, other than Nick. Maybe he’s onto something with the hot girl summer idea. 

“I don’t want another relationship,” Mikayla warns. 

Jake holds his hands up in surrender. “Strictly friends with bennies,” Jake promises. “No catching feelings allowed.” He reaches to tug at Mikayla. She doesn’t move much, sweaty skin sticking to her lounger. “God, come over here already.”

Mikayla doesn’t even protest Jake’s weird vocabulary as she unsticks herself and clambers onto his lap. They’re on the back deck of her parents’ house, in the middle of the day. Anyone can see Mikayla in a bikini and Jake in just shorts. She should probably care, but she can’t muster up the energy for it as she settles her hands on Jake’s shoulders. 

It’s different than it ever was with Nick. Where Nick’s short and broad, Jake’s tall and lanky. She can still feel the muscles in his shoulders bunch as he shifts beneath her, hands carefully resting on the outside of her thighs. 

“Kay, you think too much,” Jake comments, watching her face. 

Kay.  Nick never called her that. Only her family and Jake have ever called her Kay. “Shut up,” Mikayla says, refusing to dwell on that.

“Make me,” Jake taunts. This close, Mikayla can see his eyes underneath his sunglasses, lit up with amusement.

Mikayla leans forward and kisses him. Jake makes a surprised noise into her mouth. It’s not like it was when they were 16, awkward and fumbling and so unsure of themselves. They’re both older now, more experienced—even if Mikayla doesn’t want to think about just how many girls Jake has slept with now that they’re not attached at the hip anymore. 

She lets herself get lost in it, until Jake slides his hands up her thighs to her hips and pushes her away. He’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Mikayla doesn’t think it’s sunburn.

“Not that I didn’t like that,” he pants, grip tight on Mikayla to keep her from squirming. “But we are still outside.”

Mikayla thinks they should change that, so she climbs out of Jake’s lap and gets to her feet. She offers a hand to Jake, who blinks up at her for a moment, before lacing their fingers together and letting himself be pulled to his feet. 

Mikayla spends most of the summer tumbling into bed with Jake. They’re probably not as subtle about it as they could be, but Mikayla thinks she’s overdue for a summer fling. She ignores the knowing smiles and raised eyebrows their other friends send their way when they’re pressed close in the dark of the bar, when they leave a party together.

It takes her weeks to stop comparing Jake to Nick, the way he touches her, the way his lips feel against her skin. Until she no longer has to choke back Nick’s name. She wakes up one morning to Jake still in her bed, his arm draped around her waist. Mikayla has to blink a few times when she rolls over and realizes that it’s Jake next to her, not Nick.

Mikayla dreams of Nick, dreams of that first summer together, when she got to bring him home for the first time. The first time she realized she was falling in love. 

Nick fidgets the entire hour and a half drive from his house to Saginaw. He reaches to change the song that’s just started, but Mikayla slaps his hand away. 

“No complaining about my playlist,” she says.

“I’m not complaining,” Nick complains. “I just didn’t want to listen to that song.” 

‘That song’ in question is a Taylor Swift song. Mikayla turns the volume up. Nick sighs, but Mikayla can see him smiling at her from the corner of her eye.

Nick had insisted that he could make the drive up to Saginaw by himself. Mikayla didn’t need to be driving three hours round-trip just to pick him up, he’d argued, but Mikayla had barely left her house since Michigan had sent all of the students home in March. Driving three hours round-trip was as close to an adventure as she was going to get this summer. Besides, it gives them a little bit of time to themselves after not seeing each other for months before being under constant supervision by Mikayla’s parents.

Nick’s back to fidgeting the passenger seat. 

“Would you quit that?” Mikayla says. Nick stops picking at his fingernails. “Everyone is going to love you.” Nick’s cute and charming and polite, a good Michigan boy through and through. Mikayla’s pretty sure there’s a good chance her family ends up liking Nick more than they like her, actually. 

When Mikayla pulls into the driveway, her dog is the first one out the front door, closely followed by her mom. She wraps Mikayla in a hug as soon as she’s out of her car.

“Geez, I was barely gone for three hours,” Mikayla says, but hugs her mom back just as tightly. 

Her mom moves on to Nick after releasing Mikayla. He meets Mikayla’s eyes over her mom’s shoulder, looking a little startled. Mikayla just laughs.

“Oh, Kay, Grandma and Grandpa are coming over for dinner tomorrow,” her mom says. “They want to be able to meet Nick, too.” 

Mikayla’s grandma had decided she loved Nick the moment she found out they shared a birthday. Mikayla’s not too worried about what they’re going to think of him once they finally meet him.

Nick’s casting a confused look around as he follows Mikayla into the house. 

“I hope the pullout is comfortable enough for you, Nick,” her mom is saying. The spare sheets and blanket are all folded on the arm of the couch. “But it was either the pullout or a blow-up mattress in the office upstairs.”

Mikayla has slept on that blow-up mattress before. It tends to deflate in the middle of the night. “You’re better off on the pullout,” Mikayla whispers to him. 

“Kay, will you bring in some extra drinks from the garage fridge? Dinner will be ready soon.” 

Mikayla does as she’s told, grabbing a few sodas and beers. She cracks open a can of hard seltzer she’d grabbed for herself and offers one to Nick. He raises an eyebrow at Mikayla’s drink choice—she’s not quite 20 yet, but she’s been drinking since high school—and takes a soda for himself. He’s making a face Mikayla can’t read as he listens to her mom go on and on about how much they’ve been looking forward to having Nick visit.

“Kay’s done nothing but talk about you since the fall,” she’s saying. Mikayla blushes as Nick shoots her an amused look.

“Why does everyone call you Kay?” Nick asks the next night, after her grandparents have left. It’s getting late, and Nick’s voice is pitched low, out on the deck as fireflies flicker around them.

“Hm? Oh, everyone in my family has always called me that.” 

“But everyone at school calls you Mikayla or Mikkie,” Nick says. Except for Nolan Moyle, who decided that “Nick and Mik” was hilarious when they first started dating.

Mikayla shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess Kay is just supposed to be a family thing.” It’s hard to see in the dark, but Mikayla can tell Nick’s eyebrows are creased. “I’m named after my Grandma. Her name is Katherine, but everyone has always called her Kay. My mom is her only daughter and wanted me to keep the name without actually naming me Katherine. She kinda took the nickname Kay and worked backwards until she settled on Mikayla.”

Mikayla still remembers when she started school and never responded to her full name because she had only ever been called Kay. It had worried her teachers for months. 

“So if I started calling you Kay…” Nick says thoughtfully. 

“Nope, family only,” Mikayla says firmly. Plus her best friend, but they’ve been friends so long he’s practically a part of the family anyway. It’s too early to be thinking things like that with Nick. 

“Guess I’ll just have to become a part of the family,” Nick jokes.

Jake kisses Mikayla awake before Nick can kiss her in her dream. She stretches and rolls over in Jake’s bed, warm in the late afternoon sunlight slanting through his blinds. 

“Your mom texted,” Jake says. “She wants you home for dinner.” 

Mikayla will need a shower before she can go home, wash off the sunscreen, the feeling of Jake’s hands on her skin. She rolls back over and burrows into one of Jake’s pillows. “Five more minutes.”

It’s not moving on, but it helps. The summer passes in a haze of sunshine and sex. Mikayla blinks and it’s August, and they’re heading their separate ways again: Jake off to Mississippi, Mikayla packing her car for Ann Arbor.

Jake kisses her goodbye the night before he leaves. Mikayla has to stop herself from clinging to him as he pulls away, beg him not to go. It feels like they’re 18 and leaving each other for the first time, unsure how to live without being by each other’s sides. No catching feelings, Jake had told her. 

“Don’t forget to have some fun this semester, okay?” Jake says now. 

Mikayla has a feeling he’s talking about more than her tendency to care more about hiding from the world in her apartment than hanging out with friends. Though, now that she thinks about it, most of her friends were on the hockey team, a by-product of dating Nick for so long. She’s not sure she’ll be spending much time around them these days. 

“I’ll try,” Mikayla says.

It’s easy enough to settle back into life in Ann Arbor. Mikayla goes to her classes and meets up with her non-hockey friends. They mercifully don’t ask any questions about the breakup. She doesn’t hear from any of the boys from the hockey team, and she tries to convince herself it doesn’t hurt. They were always Nick’s friends first. She was just the captain’s girlfriend. 

The team announces Nolan Moyle as the new captain a few weeks after summer ends. Mikayla stares at the picture on Instagram—Jacob, Luke and Keaton with their shiny new letters and, in the middle of it all, Nolan. She’s known Nolan since she was a freshman, and he was just Nick’s obnoxious best friend. She usually spends the summer idly Snapchatting Moyle photos of her mixed drinks and sunburns, but she hasn’t spoken to him in months. 

She can’t believe she actually misses his loud mouth.

She hesitates before pulling up their text thread, but sends off a quick “congrats on the C!” message before she can think better of it. 

Nolan texts back almost immediately, a string of all the blue and yellow emojis, followed by a more genuine thanks. 

Mikayla expects that to be the end of it—there’s no reason for the conversation to continue, and no reason to believe Nolan is missing her friendship as much as she’s missing his. 

Except Moyle FaceTimes Mikayla later that afternoon, while she’s doing homework. She answers it to a terrible angle of Nolan’s face, mostly nose and that awful mustache he insists on. It looks like he’s walking out of Yost after practice. 

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Nolan asks without preamble.

“Uh, no?” Mikayla checks the time in the corner of her screen. She should probably start cooking soon, though.

“I’m bringing pizza over,” Nolan announces. 

Mikayla hears someone yelling to Nolan off-camera, and he turns to talk to whoever it is. While he’s distracted, the phone jostles until Mikayla is looking directly at the ceiling. The phone shifts again, except this time it’s someone stealing Moyle’s phone and appearing in frame. It’s Truss, and Mikayla finds herself smiling. 

“Hi, Mikkie,” Jacob says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nolan wraps him in a headlock before he can get anything out. 

The chaos of it relaxes Mikayla. She’d gotten used to the noise and antics of the hockey team after dating Nick for three years. Her life has been too quiet without them.

“Hey, you’re still coming to games this season, right?” Nolan asks, still grappling with Truss for his phone.

Mikayla had actually planned on avoiding Yost at all costs this year.  

“Probably not?” It would feel weird, Mikayla thinks, to be cheering on all of her other friends at Yost without Nick being there, too. To know so many people out on the ice but not be able to talk to them without feeling like something—someone—is missing. 

Jacob and Nolan stop fighting long enough to gape at Mikayla. Their matching expressions of disbelief are enough to make her laugh. 

“Why not?” Truss asks, at the same time Nolan says, “What, do you not like us anymore?”

Mikayla giggles again, a little more comfortable this time, and shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I just wasn’t sure I’d want to after Nick dumped me.” 

“That’s stupid, you have to come,” Nolan says. Mikayla knows him well enough to know that he will do everything he can to make sure Mikayla is at every game. “What do you want on your pizza?” Nolan asks, switching topics so fast it nearly gives Mikayla whiplash. 

She was almost hoping Nolan had forgotten he’d talked about pizza. 

“Pepperoni,” she says.

Nolan makes a face. “You always want pepperoni,” he complains. “Whatever, I’ll be over in like, half an hour.” 

He hangs up abruptly. Mikayla blinks at her phone for a moment, bewildered, before going back to her homework. 

Someone’s banging on Mikayla’s door. She doesn’t have to check the peephole to know that it’s Nolan. She throws the door open to Moyle’s grinning face.

“Sup, Mikkie,” he says, shouldering his way past Mikayla and into her apartment. He throws the pizza box down and pulls out the second chair at Mikayla’s little kitchen table. 

“Making yourself right at home, huh?” Mikayla asks. She hands Nolan a plate and settles into the chair across from him. Nolan has a habit of taking up too much space in every room he is in, loud and brash and comfortable. Mikayla had hated that about him when she had first met him, but she has been missing it more than she’d care to admit. 

Nolan grins at her. “Like I never left, baby.”

Mikayla snags another slice of pizza and watches Nolan across the table. It’s not too different from casual dinners shared with Nick last year, after she’d moved into her first apartment. Not too different from another September night after Nick had been named captain last season.

It’s not a surprise, exactly, when Nick calls Mikayla to tell her that the team has offered him the C for his senior season. He’d known for a while, had walked away from a deal with Colorado in part because of the chance to be captain. Mikayla still screams into the phone with excitement, covering Nick’s chuckle on the other end. 

Nick appears at Mikayla’s door later that evening with takeout for dinner. He has a few seconds to grin at Mikayla before she’s launching herself at him.

“Whoa, hang on,” Nick says, struggling to catch Mikayla and not drop their food. 

Mikayla keeps her arms looped around Nick’s neck as they shuffle awkwardly into her apartment. Nick carefully sets the bag of food down on Mikayla’s kitchen table. She does her best to jump up into Nick’s arms, and he helps, sliding his hands to the backs of her thighs, hitching her up higher.

“Hi there,” Nick says, grinning so widely his eyes crinkle. 

Mikayla kisses him fiercely, cupping his face in her hands. She pulls away just enough to say, “I’m so proud of you, Nick.”

And she really is. Nick’s come so far in his years at Michigan, from walk-on to captain, and Mikayla’s been lucky enough to be by his side for a lot of it. 

Nick kisses her again. They end up having to re-heat their dinner. 

Nolan nudges Mikayla with his foot, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Mikayla says quickly. It seems pitiful to say that she’s thinking about Nick. Nolan looks skeptical. “Just wondering who exactly thought it was a good idea to make you captain, actually.”

“Hey!” Nolan protests.

Moyle re-inserts himself into Mikayla’s life after that. He drags her out to the senior house to meet all the new freshmen—she spends a week and a half mixing up the Fantilli brothers— and he drags her out to Skeeps for more than one Thirsty Thursday in the early weeks of the semester before the hockey season starts properly.

He laughs so hard when Mikayla tells him about her semi-failed Hot Girl Summer that she’s pretty sure he’s going to snort beer out his nose. Mikayla frowns into her own drink, a Blue Hawaiian that Nolan had mocked, even though he kept stealing sips in between bites of fries. Mikayla kicks him as hard as she can underneath the table.

When Nolan has finished laughing, he says, “You planning a Hot Girl Fall?” He sweeps an arm out for dramatic effect. “Lot more options here in Ann Arbor.”

Mikayla shrugs. “I might.” Nolan already knows that Nick is the only guy she’s ever dated. “See what it’s all about, y’know?” See what was so appealing about the idea of casual hook-ups to Nick that he broke up with her to chase them.

Nolan’s smirk grows. “Wanna start tonight?” He casts a look over the crowded bar floor. “I’m sure I can find someone acceptable for you.”

“Acceptable by whose standards?” Mikayla asks, but she is ignored. She kicks Nolan under the table again to get his attention. He swears under his breath and kicks her back, but at least he’s looking at her. “Nolan, I don’t know how to flirt or any of that shit.”

Nolan grins at Mikayla. She recognizes that grin—it usually means Nolan’s up to no good.

“Trust me, baby, you’re pretty and smart. You won’t have any problems.”

Nolan scans Skeeps for another minute or two before he points to a guy around their age, standing at the bar and bobbing his head to the music the DJ is playing. Mikayla feels like she’s seen him around campus before.

“Bet you can get him to buy you a shot,” Nolan says.

Mikayla rolls her eyes, but drains the last of her drink and stands up. She makes her way over to the bar and slides in next to the guy Nolan had pointed out for her. He turns and smiles at Mikayla.

“Want to do a shot with me?” Mikayla blurts before she can think better of it.

The guy shrugs. “Why not?” He flags a bartender down and orders for them. It’s too loud to hear what he orders, but it goes down easy. “Wanna dance?” he asks next.

Mikayla never does catch his name, but they spend a while on the crowded dance floor. She doesn’t go home with him, either, but he buys her another drink before she has to hunt down Moyle again. 

“Did you have fun?” Nolan asks with a smirk when she collapses back into her seat across the table from him. 

“Shut up.”

That night starts a spiral for Mikayla—a semester full of hook-ups and one night stands. She feels like she’s hunting whatever it is about mindless, loveless sex that was so enticing to Nick. She wonders if she missed out on something when she was with Nick for most of her college years. Is it better? Is it more fun? She doesn’t know the answer, but it doesn’t stop her from sleeping with a new guy every week. 

There’s the frat boy who was enthusiastic but left beard burn in rather unsavory places.

Another frat guy who locks the door to a bathroom and pulls up her skirt at a party Mikayla isn’t even sure she belongs at, or how she even got through the door. 

The lacrosse player who reminds Mikayla a little too much of Nick, when he’s handing her water before the sweat on her body has even cooled.

The guy from one of her classes who she manages to do more with than just fuck—three whole dates—before he says he isn’t looking for anything serious. 

The boy from the bar who buys her a drink and makes out with her in the hallway, but doesn’t take her home. There’s a hickey on her collarbone she spends a week hiding, after that one. 

One who approaches her in the library on a rainy day and drives her home. He’s the first one Mikayla invites up to her apartment, and she’s not sure she ever really gets his name. (“He’s pretty brave for getting past the RBF,” Truss comments later, after Mikayla ditched him in the library. She throws her computer mouse at him.)

The boys—their names, their faces—start to blur together between late nights studying and early morning classes. Mikayla feels nothing, feels like she could scream. She puts her head down and does her homework. Focuses on getting good grades, focuses on the next time she’s getting laid. 

Nolan Moyle is by her side through it all, buying her drinks, playing wingman. He makes sure Mikayla starts coming to hockey games at Yost again, and he drags her out with the team after wins, until Mikayla slots back into friendships with the rest of the team, too. It’s kind of nice to have Nolan watching her back when they’re out at Skeeps, once Mikayla gets over the weirdness of her ex-boyfriend’s best friend helping her go out and hook-up. 

There’s a party at the senior house after finals end in December. It’s lowkey, as far as team parties go, just the guys and their girlfriends. Mikayla slips in late after spending far too long agonizing over what to wear, before realizing she was being ridiculous and throwing on jeans and a Michigan sweatshirt. There’s yelling coming from the living room, so Mikayla sneaks into the kitchen to grab a beer. 

“Stooping to our level?” Luke asks, suddenly appearing over her shoulder. Mikayla swears, nearly dropping her freshly opened can. He takes a sip of his own beer, smirking. Mikayla wonders how she always ends up with the bitchiest freshman as her favorites.

“I spend too much time around Nolan,” Mikayla says, taking a drink with a grimace. Beer never has been her favorite, though she’s unfortunately gotten a bit more used to it. She swats at the brim of Luke’s Yankees hat. “You’re not even twenty yet, who gave you a beer in the first place?”

Luke steps back, out of Mikayla’s reach. “Can’t play beer pong without beer,” he says, resettling his hat. That explains the yelling then. “Nolan wants you as his second, by the way,” Luke calls over his shoulder as he makes his way back out of the kitchen. 

Mikayla heaves a sigh, takes another fortifying drink of her still-sorta-disgusting beer, and follows Luke. Nolan whoops when Mikayla steps into the living room and makes his way over to throw his arm around Mikayla's shoulders. 

She lets herself be pulled into Nolan’s side as he yells, “Me and Mik are in next game!” 

Playing as Nolan’s second is familiar after months and months of it. They’ve actually turned into quite the force to be reckoned with. The evening passes quickly with Nolan by her side, plying her with more drinks as they beat more and more of his teammates at beer pong. A cheer goes up when they beat Holtzy and his girlfriend. Nolan wraps Mikayla in a hug so strong it lifts her off her feet. 

Mikayla turns to celebrate with Nick, too—except Nick’s not there. Of course Nick isn’t there; he moved on to bigger and better things. 

It’s getting late when Mikayla slips upstairs to find the bathroom and get some air. It’s hot downstairs, despite the December chill outside. There’s a window at the end of the hallway, and Mikayla throws it open, gasping in the cold air. Someone has knocked the screen out at some point, allowing Mikayla to lean halfway out the window. The street is quiet, but she can still hear the party downstairs. A tear slips down her cheek, and she lets it. 

That’s where Nolan finds her a few minutes later. “Hey, there you are,” he says lowly. “Been looking for you, Mik.” 

Mikayla tries to dry her face with her sweatshirt sleeve. She hopes it doesn’t fuck up her makeup. She turns to face Nolan. “Just needed a little time to cool off.”

Nolan’s looking at her with concern. He doesn’t even look tipsy, despite the fact that he’s had a drink in his hand all night. Mikayla, on the other hand, has probably had too much to drink, so much she’s dizzy with it.

“Everything okay?” Nolan asks.

“Yeah, I just—“ Mikayla cuts herself off. She can’t finish that thought, can’t admit that she misses Nick.

Later, Mikayla will blame the alcohol for what happens next. Blame the sleep deprivation and stress of finals week. Blame the heartbreak, finally catching up to her. 

Nolan stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder when she tries to lean in. “Mikkie, what are you doing, babe?” he asks softly. They’re still in the upstairs hallway of the senior house. Any one of Nolan’s teammates could come upstairs and see them, see Mikayla pressed up against the captain in the dark. 

She tries to pull away, but Nolan slides his hand from her shoulder down to her wrist. His fingers wrap easily around her wrist, grip gentle but firm enough Mikayla can’t escape. “I— I don’t know, I shouldn’t— I’m sorry.” She tries to pull away again, but Nolan tightens his hold.

“Hey, c’mon,” he says. There’s a note of teasing in his voice, one that’s familiar. Mikayla has known Nolan Moyle for four years. Teasing she can handle. She dares to look up at him and his stupid mustache. He’s grinning at her. “You know we shouldn’t.” Mikayla nods. “That’s not fair to Nick, I couldn’t do that to him.”

That makes Mikayla bristle. She finally manages to yank her hand free and crosses her arms at Nolan. “I don’t give a fuck about Nick,” she insists. Honestly, she really hadn’t even been thinking about Nick—if only for a moment.

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Nolan says gently. Mikayla’s eyes burn suddenly; God, she must be more drunk than she thought. Nolan wraps her in a hug. “I think it’s time to get you to bed, huh, Mik?”

Mikayla sleeps in Nolan’s bed that night, wakes up hungover in one of his T-shirts. Moyle’s not in bed next to her like he was when they fell asleep, too close in Nolan’s too small bed. Mikayla rolls over and winces at the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. She really shouldn’t have had so much to drink at the party; she’s supposed to be driving back home for break later today. 

Mikayla’s debating whether she can get up and sneak out before Nolan returns from wherever he’s disappeared to when the bedroom door creaks open. Nolan pokes his head in, as if this isn’t literally his bedroom. 

He grins when he sees that Mikayla’s awake and kicks the door open the rest of the way. He’s holding a coffee in each hand, one for himself and one for Mikayla. He throws himself onto the bed near Mikayla’s legs. 

“So,” Nolan starts. Mikayla pulls her legs to her chest and glares at Nolan. “We’re talking about last night.” 

In all the years Mikayla has known Nolan Moyle, he’s been chronically allergic to being serious, but he’s looking at her now without a trace of a smile on his face. “We don’t have to,” Mikayla says, but she takes the iced coffee Nolan is still holding out to her.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff in the winter,” he comments blithely before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you, Miks, but you’re Nick’s girl.”

“Not Nick’s girl anymore,” Mikayla snaps. “He made that pretty clear.” Her eyes are burning with unshed tears again, and she gulps her coffee to cover it. 

Nolan’s undeterred. “He asks about you, you know.”

“Fuck off, no way he does.” For all that Nolan’s probably one of Mikayla’s best friends in Ann Arbor these days, he was Nick’s best friend first. The reminder stings a little. She’s not sure how she feels about the fact that they’ve apparently been talking about her, or that Nolan is just now telling her this. 

Nolan digs out his phone. “Has too.” He scrolls for a moment before starting to read out texts from Nick. They’re all about her: how she’s doing, if she’s still coming to games at Yost, and, horrifyingly, if she’s seeing anyone. Mikayla kicks at Nolan until he stops reading. He locks his phone and makes a face at Mikayla. “You’re lucky I haven’t told him that you’ve been sleeping your way through three different frats.”

Mikayla makes a face back. “That’s none of your fucking business,” she tells him. Nor is it exactly true, though she has maybe fucked more than one guy from more than one fraternity this semester. 

“Our Nick’s pining, babe,” Nolan insists.

“Someone needs to remind Nick that he broke up with me so he could fuck other girls without strings attached.”

Nolan scoffs. “We both know Nick’s not that kind of guy,” he says. 

Mikayla sighs. Nolan is right about that part. It’s part of the reason Mikayla had been so caught off guard by Nick ending things. Nick was the type of guy to settle down, not fuck around. 

“Have you been possessed by Truss or something?” Mikayla asks instead of unpacking everything Nolan’s revealed. “Since when can you hold a serious conversation for this long?” It’s almost unsettling.

“I’m worried about you,” Nolan says, once again undeterred by Mikayla trying to deflect. “Both of you actually.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mikayla says. She picks at a loose thread on Nolan’s sheets to avoid meeting his eyes. 

“This isn’t like you, either, Mik,” Nolan says. 

Mikayla finally decides she’s done with this conversation. She throws off the blankets and clambers out of Nolan’s bed. She momentarily forgets that she’s wearing nothing but one of Nolan’s shirts until she sees him looking at her bare legs. He looks back up at her face, leering. Heartfelt conversation officially over. 

Mikayla doesn’t have anything to throw at his head. “Get out,” she says, trying not to laugh.

“This is my room,” Nolan points out. He’s holding back laughter, too. “Hey, are you going to the Wings game in January, like right after break ends?”

Mikayla blinks at him, thrown off by the sudden topic change. “Uh, no?” It’s been a while since she drove into Detroit to catch a game. It used to be a monthly date with Nick. 

“We should go,” Nolan says. There’s something falsely confident about his tone of voice.

Mikayla squints at him, suspicious. “Why, who are they playing?”

Nolan’s bravado falters for a moment, and that’s enough answer for Mikayla. 

“No, no way.”

“I think you two need to talk,” Nolan counters. 

“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about.” She finds the jeans she was wearing last night and pulls them on. 

“KJ will want to see you,” Nolan says. There’s a smirk on his face now.

“That’s not fair.” Everyone knew that KJ had been one of her favorite freshmen. 

“Just…think about it, okay?” Nolan asks.

Mikayla heaves a sigh. “Fine, whatever.” 

Nolan grins and smacks a kiss to Mikayla’s temple. “Text me when you get home to Saginaw.” 

Mikayla’s only a little later leaving her apartment than she’d originally told her mom she’d leave, after rushing home from the senior house and frantically finishing packing for winter break. 

She thinks while she drives. It’s finally starting to hit her, just how much she’s been missing Nick. She’d been telling herself she was fine, hiding the heartbreak with hook-ups. If Nick can do it, so can I, she’d thought vindictively more than once. She had never slept with anybody before Nick; now she’s not sure she could count all the guys she’s slept with since summer. 

She thinks of all the times she went home with Nick over the holidays before they drove up to Saginaw to spend time with her family. Both of their moms had been absolutely thrilled when they’d started dating, so excited that they’d each found another Michigander to fall in love with. She thinks of the first time she’d come home with Nick, Christmas of her sophomore year, so nervous she’d felt like she was going to throw up in the passenger seat of Nick’s car.

“You’re going to be fine,” Nick says, reaching across the console to take Mikayla’s hand. She sends him an exasperated look. “Mikkie, seriously, everyone will love you.” Nick brings Mikayla’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting.”

“That’s the problem,” Mikayla grumbles, but she lets Nick let go of her hand and shoves open her car door. 

Nick insists on carrying both of their bags, which means Mikayla is left to push open the front door. She’s met with a wall of noise and warmth. It’s immediately comforting in a way she didn’t expect, reminds her of home and her own family. 

Nick drops Mikayla’s duffel bag on the floor next to her just as Nick’s mom rounds the corner. She rushes to Nick for a hug before turning on Mikayla and wrapping her in one too. 

“Everyone’s so excited to meet you, Mikayla,” Nick’s mom says. She turns to Nick. “Take those bags upstairs. Mikayla can have Katrina’s old room, shoo,” she says with a smile, flapping her hands at both of them. 

Mikayla trails after Nick as he dumps his own bag in his bedroom before stepping down the hall and dropping Mikayla’s bag at the foot of the bed in what must be Katrina’s room. He turns to Mikayla with a grin. 

“I told you it was going to be fine,” he says.

Mikayla doesn’t point out that they’ve only encountered Nick’s mom so far, which hardly even counts because she’s talked to Karin on phone calls with Nick countless times, just lets herself be reeled in for a quick kiss. They’re probably pushing their luck just being alone up here. Nick takes Mikayla’s hand in his and leads the way back downstairs.

It’s annoying when Nick’s right about things, which is unfortunately often. The days at the Blankenburgs’ house do turn out to be fine. More than fine, actually. Everyone’s nice, if a bit overwhelming. Mikayla holds so many babies—young cousins and nieces and nephews—that she loses track of which baby belongs to whom. She wins several overly aggressive games of Spoons on Christmas Eve, much to Nick’s chagrin. Nick even sneaks into her room and squeezes next to her under the covers in the early blue dawn on Christmas morning, kissing her awake before pulling her close to doze back off. 

They’re definitely pushing their luck with that one, but Mikayla can’t bring herself to care, cozy and safe from the frosty world beyond the curtains. 

Mikayla blinks away the memory and pulls into her parents’ driveway. Her dog is waiting for her on the front lawn, holding her favorite toy and wiggling all over. Mikayla throws her door open and throws herself on the ground next to her dog, heedless of the frozen grass. They lay there, staring at the sky, until Mikayla’s fingers go numb and her mom is calling for her to come inside, while Mikayla thinks and thinks. 

Jake’s home for the holidays, too, and he appears to drag Mikayla out of bed a few days after she’d gotten home. 

“How’d you even get in here,” Mikayla complains into her pillow as Jake flops onto the bed next to her, half on top of her. The dog, who’d been sleeping on the floor next to Mikayla, decides she has to be included too and launches herself onto the bed.

“Your mom loves me,” Jake says. “C’mon, I’m bored, we should do something.”

There’s not much to do in Saginaw on any day, especially in the winter, but Mikayla elbows Jake until he rolls off her and she can get out of bed. They end up in Jake’s car, just driving around town with the music up loud. Jake only raises his eyebrows a little bit at the amount of Noah Kahan mixed in with Christmas songs on Mikayla’s playlist. 

It’s always easy to fall back into old habits with Jake, and they complain about professors and classes for a while, trading stories, even though they’ve been having weekly hours-long phone calls since they were freshmen. Jake had kept quiet about Mikayla’s dating life—or hook-up life—throughout the semester, but he doesn’t hesitate to be nosy now.

“Seeing anyone?” he asks at a stoplight, looking sidelong at Mikayla. 

Mikayla makes a face. “You know I’m not,” she says. She’d stopped sleeping around so much as the end of the semester approached, tired of the effort required for mostly mediocre lays. Tired as she started missing Nick more and more. 

“Really?” Jake asks. He almost actually sounds surprised. “No romance in one night stands?” 

They’re moving again, and Mikayla is briefly safe from Jake’s gaze. He knows how to read her face better than anyone, and Mikayla’s afraid of what might be showing now as she says, “Didn’t really have the heart for it.”

Jake’s quiet for a moment. Mikayla watches in slow motion as he comes to a stop at another red light before turning towards her again. He leans in before Mikayla can stop him, but she pulls away. There’s no hurt on Jake’s face, just confusion. No catching feelings, Mikayla thinks again. 

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” Jake asks. 

“Moyle says Nick’s still in love with me,” Mikayla says quietly. 

Jake laughs. “And why shouldn’t he be? I always thought he was an idiot for breaking up with you in the first place.” Mikayla takes a shaky breath, but Jake continues. “Any guy would be stupid to let you go, Kay.”

“Including you?” Mikayla whispers. Jake laughs. “Especially me. I should have locked that shit down in high school.” Mikayla can’t help but laugh, too. “I probably would have let you back then.” 

They’d talked about it a few times, on their backs in the backyard grass, staring up at the summer stars. Mikayla had never been serious about it, not really, but now she has to wonder if Jake had been serious. The talk about going to college together, moving to Detroit together. They’d been attached at the hip— “You can’t spell Jake without Kay,” Mikayla’s grandmother had joked more than once. 

“And now?” Jake asks. They’re still idling in front of Mikayla’s house. At some point, Jake shifted to holding Mikayla’s hand over the gearshift, gripping it tightly in his own. 

“What happened to ‘no catching feelings’?” Mikayla teases, and Jake cracks a grin. Mikayla heaves a sigh. “I think you know the answer here, Jakey.”

“I don’t want Nick to break your heart a second time,” Jake says fiercely.

“The Blue Jackets are coming to Detroit in January,” Mikayla says. “Nolan thinks I should at least talk to Nick.” 

“Since when do you listen to Moyle’s ideas?” Jake snorts.

“Since he got the C and grew up a little, God, I don’t know.” Jake does have a point. Agreeing with Nolan Moyle is dangerous, even if he has turned out to be a pretty good leader. Mikayla shakes their joined hands a little. “Hey, if Nick does break my heart again, you’re the first person I’ll run to.”

“Promise?” Jake asks. He’s grinning, easy with it. “That’s what best friends are for, right? Swearing to kill your ex and then helping you get drunk to forget about him?” 

Mikayla can’t help but laugh. “Something like that.” And before she can think better of it, she asks, “Can I do something stupid?”

Jake has barely said, “Of course,” when Mikayla leans across the console to kiss him one last time, her hands on either side of his face. Jake kisses back hard, leaving Mikayla breathless when she pulls away. “Hell of a goodbye, Kay,” Jake says. 

“I’ll see you later, Jakey,” Mikayla says, kicking open the passenger door and climbing out of Jake’s car. 

Mikayla cries on Christmas Eve. She’d had too much wine to drink with dinner, and she collapses into her bed as snowflakes drift past the window. It’s the first time she’s really let herself cry since Nick dumped that June day. She’d alternated between resolutely not thinking about him and going through life powered by a need for—revenge? vindication? She’s not sure she can put a word to it. 

It didn’t matter, anyway; Nick wasn’t around for Mikayla to hurt with her actions the same way Nick had hurt her. 

Mikayla wakes up with a headache and Nick’s contact open on her phone. 

Mikayla calls Nolan as soon as she’s back in Ann Arbor.

“You lied to me,” she says without preamble.

“What?” Nolan says. There’s commotion on his end of the line, which means he’s probably at Yost.

“Columbus is here this weekend, and you’re playing Ohio State.” There’s a text from KJ on Mikayla’s phone, asking if she’ll be at Yost on Friday night. It had come in while she was driving back to her apartment.  She hasn’t answered it. “You said you’d go to the Wings game with me when they were in town.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? In my defense, I didn’t realize they were coming in on a weekend.”

“KJ texted me,” she says. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, someone said something about KJ and Nick coming out for their rings on Friday.”

Mikayla suddenly has a headache. Nick was never supposed to come back to Ann Arbor. Mikayla had been so proud of him when he first signed with Columbus, but he had deliberately left her and Ann Arbor in the rear view. Ann Arbor was hers now.

Nolan’s still talking. “—talk, you should still come to the game on Friday.” 

Mikayla can’t think of much worse than having to see Nick at Yost. “I’m not going to fucking talk to Nick about our breakup at a hockey game.” She’d rather not have a breakdown in front of the entire hockey team, thanks.

“Okay, so I bring him over to your apartment after the game.”

“Absolutely not,” Mikayla says. 

“Mik.”

“Nolan.” 

“You said you’d talk to him,” Nolan says. 

“I said I would think about talking to him,” Mikayla counters. She hears Nolan sigh loudly through the phone. “What the fuck am I even supposed to say? ‘Sorry to hear that wheeling girls isn’t satisfying like you’d hoped’? Or, ‘I’ve slept with so many guys this semester I’ve lost track, but I haven’t found one that makes me feel the way being with you did’?” Mikayla snaps her mouth shut. She’s said too much.

“Oh, Mik,” Nolan says. He’s not teasing, which would be preferable to the pity in his voice.

“Moyle, shut the fuck up,” Mikayla snaps.

“Mik, you need to talk to Nick,” Nolan says, ignoring her. “I don’t need to do anything,” Mikayla says. 

Nolan sighs again. “Fine, I can’t make you do anything, I guess.” With that, he hangs up.

Surprised, Mikayla stares at her phone. She’s not sure she has ever actually made Nolan mad like that before. 

Mikayla spends the week leading up to Friday thinking. Nolan hasn’t spoken to her since he hung up the phone, and Mikayla doesn’t dare seek him out. KJ texts Mikayla three more times, with increasing levels of urgency and annoyance as they all go unanswered. Mikayla’s not sure what there is to say. She can’t promise anything.

She’s half-sure she’s going to skip the game right up until she walks through the doors of Yost on Friday afternoon. It’s loud and as crowded as ever, but there’s an extra kind of excited energy in the air. Mikayla isn’t sure if it’s just the Ohio State rivalry, but she wonders if some of the buzz she feels is because everyone else is just as excited about Nick and KJ returning as she’s supposed to be.

Mikayla doesn’t see either of them as she settles into her seat in the student section. She slides her phone out of her pocket, finds all of her unread messages from KJ. don’t leave without saying hi to me after the game, she sends. She puts her phone back away without waiting to see if KJ reads it. 

The game itself isn’t pretty. Michigan gets outplayed, even though it’s tied after the first, but it’s 6-2 Ohio by the time they’re introducing KJ and Nick as the Score-O participants at second intermission. 

Nick looks good, unfortunately. He seems happy to be back on the ice at Yost, even briefly. Even KJ manages a smile as the crowd cheers for them. Mikayla thought she’d heard something about Nick breaking his ankle earlier in the season, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all as he scores and runs across the ice to throw his stick into the crowd. Mikayla rolls her eyes. 

She’s standing in the concourse after the game when someone throws themselves at Mikayla from behind. She stumbles, but he wraps his arms around her shoulders before they both fall. KJ. Of course. She leans back into his chest, lets him rest his chin on top of her head. 

“Moyle said you weren’t coming,” KJ says. He doesn’t move his chin from Mikayla’s head as he talks, and Mikayla elbows him until he lets her go. 

“Yeah, well, you should never listen to Moyle,” Mikayla says. She tries to sound breezy, but she probably doesn’t succeed.

Kent gives her a flat look. Mikayla finally spots Nick, approaching from behind KJ. If Mikayla still had any intentions of ignoring him, it’s too late now. Nick sends her a tight smile as he steps up beside KJ. Kent looks back and forth between the two of them for a moment then sighs loudly.

“Figure your shit out, I’m tired of dealing with Nick,” he says to both of them. Mikayla crosses her arms and tries to glare at KJ. “I’m going outside, you two have ten minutes to talk.” He points at Mikayla. “We’re getting ice cream before we have to go back to Detroit.” 

Kent stalks off before Nick or Mikayla can get a word in, which leaves Mikayla alone in a hallway with her ex. She swears at KJ under her breath. She’s not sure, but she thinks she hears Nick let out a quiet laugh. 

“Hi,” Mikayla says. She wishes desperately for anyone to come save her, but no one comes. 

Nick drags the toe of his sneaker across the floor. “Hey, Mikkie,” he says softly. “I’ve been wanting to talk—”

“Good job at Score-O tonight,” Mikayla blurts, cutting him off. She winces. 

“Mikkie, c’mon,” Nick says, exasperated. “We need to talk.” “Do we, though?” Mikayla says. “I didn’t think there was any ambiguity left when you dumped me, so you could go off and fuck other girls.” 

Nick winces. It doesn’t make Mikayla feel any better. “It was—“ 

Mikayla cuts him off again. “Don’t you dare say ‘it was complicated,’” Mikayla warns. “I don’t think there’s anything complicated about you deciding I wasn’t enough after you made it to the show. There’s nothing left to talk about, Nick.”

Mikayla had spent months pretending that she hadn’t been hurt by Nick, but she was exhausted by it. The idea that the boy you fell in love with, who you thought you were going to marry, no longer wants you and will go out to find someone else, whether or not you’re still together, isn’t an easy one to accept. She’d covered up that hurt with alcohol and sex and schoolwork. It’s a lot more raw and real with Nick standing in front of her with the same resolute stare he’d had when he was breaking up with her.

“I miss you, Mikkie,” Nick says. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his hair curling out from underneath his beanie. 

Mikayla almost believes him. She runs her hands through her hair. “Stop calling me that,” she says. “And don’t lie to me.”

“What, Mikkie? I’ve always called you that.”

“That was when we were dating.”

“And why do you think I’m lying?”

They’re talking over each other, voices rising in the small space. Yost is empty around them. 

“Why would you break up with me if you were just going to come crawling back a few months later?” Mikayla asks. She thinks of Nolan telling her that Nick spent the fall asking about her. “Why have you been asking Nolan about me?”

Nick sighs. “I just told you. I miss you. I knew you wouldn’t want to hear from me, so instead I got to listen to Nolan tell me stories of you moving on.”

Mikayla will have to kill Nolan for that later. “I wasn’t moving on, not really,” Mikayla admits. She pushes her hair away from her face again. “I was just doing everything I could to not think about you.”

“I was trying to protect you,” Nick says. “I was going to be so far away, and traveling all the time, and you were supposed to go on to grad school next fall. I didn’t want to hold you back, and I didn’t want to make a mistake and hurt you.” Nick laughs, but it isn’t a happy sound. “I think I just made both of us miserable.”

“I spent so much time thinking that I had to prove something, that if you could handle being stupid and sleeping around, so could I,” Mikayla says. 

At some point Nick has cautiously stepped closer to Mikayla. She leans back against the wall behind her, sagging with the sudden exhaustion of this conversation. She doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing here, how long KJ has been waiting outside without a coat for them to “figure their shit out.”

“Ask KJ, I was pretty bad at the whole casual hook-up thing,” Nick says.

Mikayla presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. She’d rather die than ask Kent for details of all of Nick’s hook-ups. 

“I tried to kiss Moyle before Christmas,” Mikayla blurts out.

Nick is quiet. Mikayla hesitantly moves her hands from her eyes to look at him. 

He’s looking at her, bewildered. Apparently that’s one thing about Mikayla’s Hot Girl Fall that Nolan didn’t tell Nick. 

Mikayla continues. “He stopped me, I was drunk and confused, and he’s my best friend, but he was your best friend first, then he told me that he couldn’t because I’m your girl, even though I’m definitely fucking not, and—“ Mikayla gasps for air. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

Nick steps even closer. He slowly, hesitantly, reaches for Mikayla. She lets herself be pulled in for a hug as she starts to cry. Nick rubs one of his hands in slow circles on Mikayla’s back underneath her sweatshirt, the way he used to when Mikayla was upset. 

“Hey, slow down, it’s okay,” he says. “Mikkie, it’s okay.” Nick holds Mikayla until her crying subsides and her breathing evens back out. He takes a step back, but doesn’t let go of Mikayla’s arms. “What happens now?” he asks. He hesitates, but says, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

Mikayla blinks at him. She was kissing her best friend just a few weeks ago. She was trying to sleep with Moyle just a week before that. Nick’s confession doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, but it doesn’t simplify anything.

“Nick, I don’t know,” she says. “I might still love you, too, but—” Nick’s face brightens— “I think I need some time.” Nick’s face falls again. 

“Why?” Nick argues. “We’ve had time, we both want this, I don’t get—” “What if I don’t want this?” Mikayla cuts in. “I don’t know what I want.” She doesn’t think she’s ever been so confused in her life.

Nick frowns at Mikayla. “But you just said—” 

“I know what I just said, just—” Mikayla switches arguments. “When was the last time you slept with another girl?”

Nick looks taken aback. “I don’t know, around New Year’s?”

Not even two weeks ago. 

“How am I supposed to believe you when you say you miss me while you’re still running around fucking other girls? That you’re serious? Maybe you just think you miss me because you just haven’t found the right girl?”

Nick doesn’t argue this time, face turning red. 

“What am I supposed to do if we get back together and you turn around and cheat on me? When you realize you were right in the first place, that the distance is too hard and that I might not actually be the one you want?” 

“When was the last time you slept with another guy?” Nick finally says. Mikayla feels like it should sting, but it’s a fair question. “What am I supposed to do here?”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since before finals,” Mikayla says. There was the failed move on Moyle, then one last kiss with Jake back in Saginaw. Those hardly count. Nick blinks at Mikayla. “I don’t know what to do, Nick, honestly. We could both stop sleeping with other people, for one thing.” 

“Done,” Nick says quickly.

Mikayla narrows her eyes at Nick, suspicious. “That’s it?” she asks. “All that drama to break up with me to sleep around, and you agree to stop, just like that?”

Nick looks sheepish for the first time. “I’m telling you, I was terrible at doing casual. I kept asking them all to stay the night and shit.” There’s a pause before Nick bursts out, “What are you so afraid of?”

“You, Nick!” Mikayla almost wants to laugh, but she also feels like she might cry again. “I think…” she says slowly, “that we both need to know that this is what we want. I don’t think I want to let this go so easy, but I don’t want to get hurt again, either.”

Nick looks sad when Mikayla meets his eyes again. “Okay, yeah, yeah,” he says. 

“I just want to be able to focus on my last semester, y’know?” Mikayla says.

Nick forces a smile. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “I’ll, uh, see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah, Nick, I’d like that.” It doesn’t feel like a lie when Mikayla says it.

Mikayla doesn’t know where Nick goes, but he doesn’t follow her outside, where she needs to find KJ. He’s leaning against the front doors of Yost, looking pissy and cold, even though it was his idea to go stand outside and wait for Mikayla without a coat. 

He slings an arm around her shoulders and falls into step beside her when he spots her. 

“You know, you could have made your point without standing out in the cold,” Mikayla points out. KJ is a cold line pressed against her left side. “You’re making me cold, now,” she complains. 

“I still want ice cream,” KJ says, instead of admitting he was wrong about something. Mikayla rolls her eyes. 

They end up at Blank Slate, another place she and Nick used to frequent on dates when the weather was warmer. She tries not to think about it as she follows KJ into the shop. 

KJ wastes no time ordering their brown butter cookie dough ice cream, but Mikayla spends so long debating that she’s half-worried KJ is going to order plain vanilla for her out of spite. Finally, Mikayla brings her scoop of vanilla caramel blondie over to where Kent claimed a table in the empty shop. He makes a face at her, but she’s immune to KJ’s bitchiness at this point.

“Nick’s been a mess,” KJ says without preamble.

Mikayla sighs. “Not you, too, KJ,” she says. “Please, I’ve heard enough from Nolan and Nick already.”

KJ points his plastic spoon at Mikayla. It’s probably supposed to be threatening. “No, I don’t think you have, actually. You didn’t have to watch him break his ankle, be miserable about it, then force himself to go out and pick up and be more miserable about it. Do you know how pathetic he was with that fucking scooter?”

Mikayla snorts into her ice cream. “It can’t have been that bad,” Mikayla protests. Though, if Nick was half as miserable as she had been and was pretending not to be, he was probably pretty miserable. 

KJ takes another bite of ice cream, says through it: “Oh, it was.” He swallows and leans across the table. “And then I text Moyle to tell him we need to fix it, only he tells me you’re out doing the same dumb shit as Nick.” 

He’s close enough that Mikayla can flick him between his judgmental eyebrows. He leans back again and takes a petulant bite of ice cream. 

“You and Moyle need to mind your own damn business,” Mikayla tells him. “We were both fine.”

Kent doesn’t even dignify that with a response, just raises one eyebrow. Mikayla wishes he were close enough to smack that disbelieving look off his face.

“We were fine!” Mikayla insists. It doesn’t sound any better the second time. 

“So did you fix your shit?” KJ asks.

Mikayla huffs. “What does that even mean?” She ignores Kent’s eye roll. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“Wait,” KJ says slowly. “Moyle and I Parent Trapped you two for nothing? You didn’t even get back together?”

“No, we didn’t, and—have you ever even seen The Parent Trap?” 

“That’s not the point,” KJ says, “I don’t get it. If you’re both miserable, why not get back together?” 

“Because what if it makes us more miserable? What if it’s not actually what we want? What if we just break up again?”

“Whoa,” Kent says. “Slow down.”

Mikayla’s almost out of ice cream. She looks sadly down at her empty cup. Kent holds his half-eaten ice cream out without a word, and she takes some with her spoon.

“And what if you end up happy?” Kent asks. 

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Mikayla doesn’t know the last time she was really happy. Before Nick broke up with her, probably.

They finish their ice cream in silence. Kent hugs Mikayla tightly outside Blank Slate. There’s a car idling for him nearby, Nick and whatever members of the Blue Jackets media corps had to make the trip out to Ann Arbor waiting for KJ. 

“Fix your shit,” KJ says again, stepping away at last.

Mikayla rolls her eyes. “Which one of us is the freshman here?”

KJ doesn’t bother pointing out that he’s not a freshman anymore, or even a student at all, just climbs into the backseat of the car at the curb. Mikayla watches as they pull away, stays standing there long after the taillights have disappeared. 

Nick, to his credit—and a little bit to Mikayla’s dismay—doesn’t reach out. Mikayla finds herself half-dreading, half-hoping for a text that never comes. As the days after seeing Nick again stretch into weeks, Mikayla stops expecting to hear from him, tries to squash down the disappointment she feels. 

She throws herself into focusing for her final semester of college. She keeps her promise to Nick—no more sleeping around. She has no idea if he’s actually doing the same. There’s no time for it anyway, with a full class schedule and an internship and all the hockey games Moyle is still insisting she come to. 

Mikayla feels like she blinks, and suddenly it’s April. The hockey team is heading off to the Frozen Four, and Mikayla’s in her final weeks of college. It’s all a little surreal, and more than a little dizzying. 

“You’ll stay in touch, though, right?” she asks Nolan. 

Nolan laughs at her on a fuzzy FaceTime call from his hotel room in Tampa. “Mikkie, baby, you should know by now that you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

That is true. “I couldn’t even get rid of you after I stopped dating your best friend.” She has to laugh, too. “Do you know what you’re gonna do after the year is over?” Mikayla asks.

She vaguely sees Nolan shrug. “Nah, I’ll figure it out.” The conversation feels loaded now, despite Nolan’s light tone. “What about you? Ready for bigger and better things?”

Mikayla had big plans, once. She had picked out the graduate school program she wanted as a freshman, had spent the last four years working towards it. She had other plans, too; ones that included a white dress and a church wedding and Nick waiting at the end of the aisle. 

Grad school is still waiting for her. Mikayla has no idea if Nick is, too.

“I guess so,” Mikayla says at last. She doesn’t feel ready to be taking on the real world outside of school. Maybe it’s just delaying the inevitable, but she’s still glad to be able to push adulthood back a little further. 

“Hey, Mikkie,” Nolan says, still serious. Mikayla looks away from her computer to look properly at him. “Everything’s going to work out, you know.”

Nolan always has had a knack for reading Mikayla’s anxieties. “Promise?” she asks. It comes out watery.

“Promise.”

Michigan loses in the semis again. Mikayla watches as her friends pack up and leave, onto their own futures: Luke goes to Jersey, Portillo heads out to California, Mackie ends up in Charlotte. The end of hockey season is always a whirlwind. She remembers last year, when scouts coming to games turned into Nick signing with Columbus, missing graduation and living his dream in the NHL.

Mikayla’s own cap and gown hang off the back of her closet door. The end is coming for them all, whether or not Mikayla is ready for it. 

The end, when it comes, passes quietly. Mikayla passes her finals, walks in graduation. She packs up her apartment, all of the little bits of her life over the last four years, into boxes and shoves them all into the back of her car. Mikayla leaves Ann Arbor in the rearview mirror as she drives north to Saginaw for the summer.

Mikayla’s only been back in Saginaw a few weeks when she hears from Nick at last. The dog barks at the door once, before she switches to whole body wiggles—Mikayla knows who she’s going to see before she even heads to open the front door. 

Nick is standing awkwardly on the front porch, hands in his pockets, when Mikayla swings the door open. The dog squeezes past Mikayla to say hi to Nick, sitting squarely on one of his feet. 

“Traitor,” Mikayla says. To Nick, she says, “Hey.” 

Nick looks up from rubbing behind the dog’s ears to grin sheepishly at Mikayla. “Hey, uh—“ 

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been home?” Mikayla asks, teasing. 

Nick flushes. “I, uh, didn’t think that far ahead,” he admits. “But you’re here, so it doesn’t matter,” he points out.

Mikayla laughs. “You got in your car, drove an hour and a half, but didn’t think about what would happen when you got here?” 

Nick makes a face. “I did have a plan, I just—“ he breaks off without finishing. “Can we talk?”

It would be mean to tell him no after he drove all the way to Mikayla’s parents’ house to see her. Besides, she’s been waiting anxiously for this moment since she last saw Nick in January.

“Of course,” she says. She looks down at her dog, still sitting happily on Nick’s foot.

“Walk with me?” Nick asks. They both watch as the dog’s ears go up excitedly. 

Mikayla rolls her eyes but reaches back inside to grab her leash off the hook by the door. “Now why would you say the w-word?” she complains. She tosses the leash at Nick, lets him hook it onto her dog’s collar with practiced ease—despite the continued wiggles. Mikayla pulls the front door shut behind her and steps out onto the porch beside Nick.

She almost wishes Nick had asked if he could come inside. This conversation might be easier without the eyes of the neighborhood on them, in the safety of Mikayla’s home. But she’s also grateful to not be confined to the living room. The early summer breeze lifts Mikayla’s hair off the back of her neck, cools the anxious sweat there.

They start off down the sidewalk together—Nick’s still holding the leash. Mikayla wonders if he’s thought about getting a dog since moving to Columbus. That was another thing they’d talked about for the future together—getting a puppy as soon as they’d both graduated.                                                           

Nick stops suddenly as they approach his car, parked on the street in front of the house. He quickly hands Mikayla the leash, fishing in his pockets for something.

“Hang on, I have to—“ He opens the passenger door and grabs a battered notebook off the floor of the footwell. “Okay, we can—“ He starts walking down the street without finishing his sentence.

Mikayla half-jogs to keep up with him. “Nick? I don’t think you’ve said a full sentence since you got here,” she says.

Nick runs a hand over his still-regretfully buzzed hair. Mikayla needs to remember to make fun of him for it later. “Sorry, just—I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous for something,” he says.

Mikayla scoffs, nudges Nick in the ribs with her elbow. He leans into it instead of letting her bully him off the curb. “Whatever, you literally play in the NHL.”

“No hockey game is as important as you,” Nick says seriously. 

Mikayla has to force her feet to keep moving so she doesn’t stop and gape at Nick in the middle of the sidewalk.

He’s running his finger nervously along the bent metal spiral holding together the notebook in his hands. Mikayla stares at it, the way his thumb turns white as he presses hard into the sharp end of the spiral. The notebook feels familiar, blue cardboard cover worn and covered in Nick’s handwriting. She wants to tear it out of his hands, but she waits. 

Nick continues talking. “Do you remember when we met?”

Mikayla has to blink at him for a moment, trying to get past the dissonance of his last two statements. “Well, yeah,” she says. “Of course.”

They’d been in the same elective course together. It was Mikayla’s freshman year, Nick’s sophomore year. Mikayla had never noticed Nick in class before, but she slid into the seat next to him at a study group session organized by one of their classmates, a few weeks into the semester. 

They’d talked for over an hour, about the class, about Michigan. When they were finally forced to pack up and leave the library study room, Nick had stood up and Mikayla had blurted: “Oh.”

“Oh?” Nick had echoed. Mikayla was standing, too, face to face with Nick for the first time. Close enough to clearly see the narrow scar in his eyebrow, watch it move as he raises his eyebrows at her, clearly amused.

“You’re not as tall as I thought you were,” Mikayla had admitted. It doesn’t make much sense when she says it out loud like that.

Nick had bumped into her playfully as they made their way outside. “And how tall did you think I was?” he had teased.

Mikayla huffed at him. “I don’t know, forget I said anything.” But Nick fell into step beside her as she headed back to her dorm, and she dared to ask a stupid question. “How tall are you, anyway?”

“5’8” and some change,” Nick had told her. He burst into laughter when Mikayla had pursed her lips, trying hard not to say anything else out of pocket. “What?” he asked.

“Not very much change, though,” she had said, which just made Nick laugh harder. 

He had asked her out after class two weeks after that day. 

“Your NHL stats lie about your height,” Mikayla points out. Not that she looked, or anything. 

It makes Nick laugh, the same way teasing him about his height always did. Mikayla had always been the only person he would tolerate the jokes from. 

“I’m almost 5’9”!” Nick protests. 

“Almost is not the same thing, Nicholas!” 

“You know, I think I started to fall in love with you from that very first time we met,” Nick says.

Mikayla’s left dumbfounded once again. “Be serious.” 

Nick chuckles wryly. “Why do you always think I’m lying to you lately?”

“I just don’t know what to believe anymore,” Mikayla sighs. “You keep talking about missing me and how long you’ve loved me, but that doesn’t make any sense with the way you broke up with me. You can’t love someone like that and then dump them just so you don’t end up cheating on them.”

Nick’s quiet for a moment. Their hands brush as they walk side by side on the narrow sidewalk. Nick’s still holding that battered blue notebook; Mikayla has no idea why. “Okay, that was a shitty way to end things, and it was shitty of me in general, but I’ve regretted it every moment since then, I need you to believe me on that.”

“And if I do? What then?” Mikayla asks.

Nick starts fidgeting with that notebook again. He runs a finger along the edge of the pages now, fanning them a little. Mikayla watches him, lets him collect his thoughts.

“Long distance goes both ways, you know?” Nick says.

“I—what?”

Nick continues as if Mikayla hadn’t said anything. “I think I thought I was protecting you, I guess? Like, it wouldn’t be fair to you to be stuck with a boyfriend 300 miles away. I didn’t want you to miss out on things because you were still with a guy you only saw a couple of times a year.”

“That’s stupid,” Mikayla announces. It catches Nick off-guard, and he laughs a little. “When did I ever complain about being long-distance?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “And I definitely missed out on so much in the years we were together, like the awkwardness of going to class three times a week with a guy you hooked up with a couple of times, or seeing someone you fucked at a party around campus and realizing you don’t even know their name.

“Nick, I never cared about the distance. I was so proud of you, and I loved you so much. I didn’t realize that wasn’t enough.”

“It should have been. I already told you, it was shitty, and it was stupid, Mikkie. I’m trying to fix it now, though.”

“What is that?” Mikayla asks, curiosity finally getting the better of her. She points to the notebook.

Nick looks down at the notebook in his hands like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Oh, uh. It’s a notebook,” he says dumbly. Mikayla wants to smack him. “When we were together, I used to write about you.”

That’s why the notebook seemed so familiar. Mikayla had seen it before: amongst the clutter of Nick’s desk, mixed in with his other books in his backpack, on the floor of her own bedroom when Nick stayed over. She’d never once stopped to wonder what was inside of it.

Nick’s still talking. “It’s not, like, poetry, or anything, but sometimes when I was thinking about you, or when you’d done something that had made me laugh or really realize that I loved you, I’d write it down.”

“And you kept it?” Mikayla asks. 

“I had to dig it out of some box in my old bedroom after I saw you in Ann Arbor in January, but yeah. I, um…” Nick trails off. “I started writing in it again, after that. Just whenever I missed you or something, I’d write it down. I didn’t think I was going to show it to you, though, until I got here.”

They’ve been walking for a while now. They should probably head back, but the sun is warm on Mikayla’s face, and she’s starting to feel something like hope in her chest for the first time in months.

“You haven’t shown me anything,” Mikayla points out, gentle. It’s meant to be teasing, and she thinks Nick gets it. He sighs, long and dramatic. Mikayla thinks he’s only half-serious, but she still says, “Nick, you don’t have to, I believe you.”

And she does. When she thinks about it, she’s seen Nick writing in that notebook over the years. He always closed it when she approached, but Nick had always liked to give Mikayla his full attention. She’d never spared a second thought to the notebook’s contents. 

Nick takes the leash from Mikayla at the same time he passes her the notebook. Their fingers brush as Mikayla takes it carefully from him. In her hands, the notebook looks even worse for wear, dangerously close to falling apart, years and years of use showing in its bent edges.

Mikayla begins to leaf through it slowly. There’s a chunk of pages clumsily torn out of the beginning of the notebook—probably old class notes. The first page left only has a couple of lines, scrawled in Nick’s messy handwriting: met a great girl today gonna ask her out. Then, a few pages later, in the margins of another page of class notes: think I could spend forever with Mikayla.  

Mikayla continues flipping pages. The older pages are more faded, stained with coffee or water rings. Occasionally a page will be dated, but the pages about her are mostly random, a few sentences here, a paragraph there. She can tell when she gets to the newer entries, and not just by the crisp pages. Nick started writing the date at the top of each page, and Mikayla skims through January, into February, March, April. The pages stop abruptly in the end of April, right around the end of hockey season and Mikayla graduating.

That reminds Mikayla: “Sucks that you missed the end of the season with your ankle,” she says. 

If Nick thinks it’s a non-sequitur, he doesn’t show it, just responds, “Eh, it’s whatever. Not like I was playing groundbreaking hockey to begin with.”

Mikayla stops short. “Hang on, no.” Nick stops a few steps ahead of her. He looks over his shoulder, confused. “You didn’t get promoted to top d-pair for playing shitty hockey, Nick.”

Nick grins. “You were paying attention?”

Shit. “Uh,” Mikayla says. It’s way too late to lie. “Maybe a little.” She doesn’t know why she never unfollowed the Blue Jackets on social media, but she’d only stopped scrolling past all of their posts after seeing Nick in January. “Maybe I was just keeping up with KJ.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Nick says. He’s still grinning when he reaches out a hand to Mikayla. “C’mon.”

Mikayla carefully places her hand in Nick’s. He doesn’t let go, even once she’s caught up and they’ve fallen into step together again. 

“It also means I can see your fucking terrible hair decisions as soon as you make them,” Mikayla says. She’d dropped her phone on her face the first time the Blue Jackets posted the buzz cut.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Nick complains. He lets go of Mikayla’s hand to run a hand over the shorn strands again. Mikayla snatches at his hand when he lets it rest back at his side. 

Mikayla huffs. “Everything!” Nick shoots her an amused look. It only makes Mikayla bolder, like nothing has ever changed between them. “Your hair looked so good, and then you fucking buzzed it! And not even well!” Nick’s laughing openly at Mikayla now. She’s not finished. “It’s prickly, and uneven, and you look like a damn hedgehog.” Nick has to stop walking so he can double over in laughter. “Nick,” Mikayla whines. 

“I guess you’d prefer the mullet, then?” he asks when he finally stops laughing.

“Yes.” Mikayla actually kind of enjoyed the playoff mullet each year. “I always liked the mullets.” 

They’ve somehow managed to make it back to Mikayla’s street. She stops at the foot of the driveway, not ready for this conversation to be over. She’s still clutching Nick’s notebook, and she pulls it close to her chest.

“I know you did,” Nick says, suddenly serious. He’s still holding onto Mikayla’s hand, and he uses it to tug her close. He presses a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ve really missed you, Mikkie,” Nick whispers into her hair. 

Mikayla closes her eyes, counts to three. She knows what’s coming. She might finally know the right answer to what Nick’s going to ask. 

“I miss you, Nick,” she says.

It’s been building, the certainty that she still loves Nick enough to give it all a second chance, but this moment, a walk in the sunshine, teasing each other, is what really cemented how much she missed Nick in her life. 

Nick looks hopeful when Mikayla opens her eyes again.

“Yeah?” he says softly. He steps closer, slides a hand around Mikayla’s hip. She lets him, likes the way his hand fits there, warm against her skin. “Do you wanna do this? For real?”

Mikayla nods, no hesitation. She watches as the grin spreads across Nick’s face.

“I’ve missed that smile,” Mikayla says, and then Nick’s kissing her so hard he nearly knocks her off balance. Mikayla drops the notebook and Nick drops the leash—the dog has laid down in protest of her walk ending, anyway—so she can wrap her arms around Nick’s neck and pull him closer.

Nick pulls away for breath first, but he doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Mikayla’s. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Mikayla asks.

There’s time to talk about what this means, to talk about the future. That can wait. What’s important right now is Nick, here in Mikayla’s arms.

“I’d love to,” Nick says.

[romione-trope-fest]

Shell Cottage

Title: Shell Cottage

Author: adenei

Trope: Only One Bed

Summary: What if Shell Cottage wasn’t Bill and Fleur’s home/safehouse during the war…because there was no Voldemort? What if the Weasley kids used it for something else entirely? A something that was bestowed upon each Weasley kid before they entered their seventh year. And what if Ron used that something to his advantage, finally giving him a shot at getting together with Hermione?

WC: 7,738 (in 3 parts. part 1 here)

TW: alcohol use, frivolity, bed sharing.

**********

Part 1

  It’s an unusually warm summer day in Ottery St. Catchpole, and Ron welcomes the sun shining down on his face as he ventures outside. Summer’s always been his favorite season. When he was younger it was because his siblings would all be home from Hogwarts, so he had lots of options for playmates. And when he’d started school, it meant a nice long break from never-ending assignments and exams throughout the year.

  This summer is different, though. It’s officially his last as a student, which means it could be the final time he’ll have minimal responsibilities before he’s expected to pursue a career—and it’s coming to an end far too quickly. In two short weeks, he’ll be entering his seventh and final year of Hogwarts, and then this time next year? Well, who knows exactly what his future holds.

  Ron walks out to the garden, summoned by his brothers for a pick-up game of Quidditch, but no one’s there yet. It’s a rare afternoon when everyone stopped by to visit and hang out, much to Mrs. Weasley’s delight. They rarely spent time together aside from Sunday dinner, so the impromptu visit sent their mum into a tizzy. 

  They made some excuse about wanting to help Ron and Ginny train for tryouts in a few weeks, but Ron thinks they all secretly miss flying. Nevertheless, it still struck him as peculiar when he couldn’t see anyone around. Especially considering Fred and George already had their brooms when Bill asked him to come play. He figured they’d be flying around warming up already.

  Weird.

  Nevertheless, Ron keeps his pace toward the broomshed. Even if it’s all some stupid prank, he figures he can still charm some Quaffles and get a little solo practice in at the very least. It doesn’t matter that he’s held the Gryffindor Keeper position for two years now, he still wants to earn it.

  Not that Harry would give it to anyone else, unless they totally outperformed him. But every season, every match, he’s gained more confidence and honed his skills. It’s not like he plans on going pro or anything, but still, he wants to maintain his position on the team.

  Finally reaching the broomshed, he opens the door to retrieve his Cleansweep, but is met instead with a pair of arms pulling him into the small space.

  “What the—”

  “It’s about time, Ronniekins,” Fred chides.

  George shuts the door behind him and casts some sort of silencing charm on it. “Yeah, can’t say this is where I’d prefer to spend my afternoon waiting for you.”

  “So why are you in here and not outside?” Ron asks, completely bewildered. “I thought we were going to play Quidditch?”

  “We are, but we have to talk to you first.” Impatience lingers in Fred’s tone before Bill clears his throat.

  “It’s a…private matter.”

  “Oh, fucking hell, not the sex talk again,” Ron groans.

  George grins. “We can if you—”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.” Fred shrugs. “I happen to think we did a stellar job with our brotherly duty.”

  George nudges Bill. “Even provided Percy’s diagrams and everything.”

  Bill sniggers. “Did you really? Well, as much as I’d love to continue that conversation, we probably don’t have much time before Ginny comes outside and catches us in here.” Ron folds his arms as he waits for his oldest brother to continue.  “So, you’re about to start your seventh year in a couple weeks—”

  “Really? I had no idea.” Ron can’t help the quip, but he hates when people state the obvious.

  “Easy now, Ronniekins. As much as we love a good tradition, we don’t have to share this with you if you want to be all testy,” Fred warns.

  “Anyway.” Bill regains everyone’s attention. “As Fred so eloquently stated, we have a bit of a tradition that I started and has since been passed down to everyone.”

  “Even Percy,” George interjects.

  “Though I don’t think he threw much of a rager,” Fred shakes his head in disappointment.

  Bill chuckles. “No. I’m pretty sure he used the weekend for himself and Penelope and—”

  “No!” gasps Fred.

  A shit-eating grin plasters George’s face. “Did they—is that when he—no wonder he was such a bloody tosser all year!”

  “Acting even more pretentious than usual,” Fred continues.

  “All because he got—

  “Alright, alright. Percy’ll kill me if he finds out I told you so keep that to yourselves, yeah?”

  “Oh, come on, Bill. You’d crush him in a duel. He’s got nothing on you,” Fred ignores the point.

  Ron doesn’t realize until after the exchange that his eyes have widened at the information, and while he may have been annoyed before, he’s much more interested in what Bill has to say now.

  “So, are you going to tell me or…”

  Instead of answering right away, Bill digs into his pocket before brandishing a key.

  “What’s that to?” Ron presses again, and all three of his brothers grin widely.

  “Shell Cottage.”

  Shell Cottage. Where’s he heard that name before? He has to delve deep into his mind for any sort of recollection, and then it suddenly hits him.

  “Aunt Muriel’s summer home? But how do you—”

  “Dad used to check the place regularly when Muriel wasn’t staying there. But she stopped using it as her summer home years ago—just before my seventh year to be exact—and I’ve been in charge of making sure the place is alright ever since. ”

  “Okay…so, what? Did you borrow the place for a weekend?”

  Bill’s face falls slightly at Ron’s question and the twins stifle a groan. “Wow, Ron, way to ruin it.” George scolds.

  “I wasn’t trying to!” he defends. “It’s just—it was obvious…” 

  Bill doesn’t seem phased, though, as he continues. “Well, yeah. And since then, I’ve passed the key on to Charlie, Percy, and the twins a couple weeks before their seventh year starts at Hogwarts too. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Brilliant!” Ron reaches his hand out to take the key, but then hesitates. His eyes narrow slightly as he peers between his brothers. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” Bill reassures. “You can have the place for the weekend. Just make sure it’s cleaned up before you leave. And I don’t care who you invite as long as you’ve got a good alibi.”

  “Right. Yeah.” Ron takes the key when Bill thrusts it toward him. 

  The wheels begin to turn, formulating a plan in his mind. Obviously, he wants to invite his dorm-mates. They could hang out on the beach and he knows Seamus would be able to hook them up with Firewhiskey. It could be the ultimate guys weekend. Kind of like the ones they used to have when they were younger before Seamus started chasing girls and he and Harry got wrapped up with Quidditch.

  But then he thinks about how Percy supposedly took advantage of the space and—well, if he’s being honest with himself, he’d love to find a way to hang out with Hermione one-on-one. Maybe it would be the kick in the pants he needs to finally take the plunge and ask her out.

  Who says you can’t do both?

  Both…now there’s an idea. But before he can ruminate on it anymore, Fred interrupts his thoughts. 

  “Great, now if we’re all set here, let’s get out of this steambox.” He pushes past Ron to open the door.

  George follows. “I’ll go find Gin so she doesn’t try to hex our bollocks off for leaving her out.”

  Dammit. Ginny.

  She’s going to be so pissed if he leaves her out, but as is the tradition, Ron isn’t sure he should tell her. Besides, is it so wrong to have a weekend for just him and his friends without her? Harry’ll understand too, right?

  Eh, whatever. He’ll figure it out later. For now, he’ll enjoy an afternoon of Quidditch just like the old times, and later, when Harry comes for dinner, he’ll figure out exactly what his weekend with the key to Shell Cottage will hold.

[callmewrinkles3]

Come Back, Be Here - DR3 x Fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: One race until the end of the season, and one race until Dan gets to go home for New Years and six weeks of family time. But he and Emmy are facing their longest separation since 2018, and neither of them are facing the truth of what it means.

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: Abu Dhabi 2021, angst (it’s this series what do you expect), explicit smut (18+ only pls!), mentions of breaking laws in Middle Eastern countries.

AN: We had to share something for the DannyRic GP, and why not the moment that started the downward spiral for these two? We are aware that they probably wouldn’t get in trouble for being physically affectionate in public, but Em sticks to the rules and is a worst case scenario person so here we are. We hope you enjoy! Alex and Cíara xx

December, 2021

This leg of the race calendar was punishing. It didn’t give you a moment to breathe, three double headers in a row. And hardest of all for Dan, the last three races were in the Middle East.

He’d learned more about the human rights side of things, but he’d never consider himself well educated on it. He’d talked to other drivers, looked online, all of that. But on a purely selfish level Middle Eastern races meant that he and Em were back to their old pattern of separate hotel rooms, one of them slipping out of the others at the crack of dawn so they weren’t caught sharing. It was stupid and illogical and he missed the feeling of getting to wake up slowly with her half sprawled across him, of soft kisses and slow sex to get ready for the day.

Instead it was mumbled goodbyes and kisses on her forehead. Qatar wasn’t too bad, they finished the race and got to head back to Europe. He spent more time on the sim, trying to get to grips with how the car reacted and bring back some of the magic from Monza. And then he’d go home and open up the door of that little flat to see Em on the couch still working away, or she’d arrive in just after him from Blake’s with a smile and a “I was asked to remind you the walls are thin, please don’t make me scream tonight again.” She always blushed and he grinned, kissing it away and wrapping her in a hug to put aside the mixed feelings he had about McLaren. 

But they were in Saudi Arabia and he fucking hated it here. He hated that for the next two months he couldn’t hold Em’s hand. He couldn’t wake up beside her in bed. That he’d get on the plane to Perth and she’d be left behind because she was going back to London and he didn’t want to do it.

Originally how late the calendar ran because of covid was perfect. They would arrive into Perth just as the major restrictions would be lifted, the hotel was booked for two weeks, they’d be home just after Christmas. It would work. And then the rules changed and it was citizens and spouses of citizens only and there was no way around it. They were in Austin when they got the news, cancelling the flight for Em with tears.

It was just after the race in Saudi, sitting in his driver room and wanting to head back to the hotel when Michael walked in. Everything was ready and he stood, but one look from Michael made him sit and stay quiet.

“Are you gonna ask Em to marry you so she can come home with us?”

He thought he was about to laugh at the question, but Michael’s face was sincere. 

“Mate, no. God I wish I could. But no. I have a plan, and her thinking that I’m only asking her so she can come is not in it. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“You have a plan? Shouldn’t you at least go on a couple of dates? Have dinner out like a couple? Work out if it’s what’s gonna happen?”

He could see the surprise on his best mate’s face, watching as Dan took a deep breath and stretched out his back. He’d had the plan since the four of them were in lockdown together on the farm, when Em got off the wooden lounger she was sharing with him to get four more beers. He sat there, took the last gulp out of his bottle, and said “I’m going to marry her some day. Emmy’s the one. She’s it.”

Emmy had come back and curled on his chest again before they could say anything else, sitting there in the cooling night air while he ran his hand up and down her arm. It was perfect and he knew that was it, she was the one. The ring was sitting in his bag waiting for the right moment.

“Mate I know it will. We live together. We do dates when we have our Italy trips, and she still hasn’t forgotten I owe her for Lake Como last year because I won Monza instead. We don’t need dates.”

“Just take her on one. Mate, seriously, take her out. Do it properly.” The insistence was weird, it was never how Mike usually was. In fairness he and Blake usually stayed out of whatever he and Emmy were doing, unless it interrupted Blake’s sleep and he got an angry text. They’d gotten a lot better at not doing that though.

“Did she tell you something? Why are you making a big deal about this? I know what I’m doing.”

“She hasn’t said anything, but just…I see the way the two of you look at each other. You’re not gonna see her for six weeks, and I’m pretty sure the last time the two of you went that long without seeing each other was that gap between her coming to Monaco and whatever the race she went to after in 2018.  Take your girl on a date and make sure she’s your girl.”

“I fucking can’t!” He was louder than he meant to be, opening and closing his hand and standing up. The fucking “cultural norms” and rules that meant they couldn’t do it. If they were just tourists then yeah, maybe. But there’d be cameras and people would see and he wouldn’t put it past a government to make an example of them.

“Why not? It’s easy. “Hey Em I’m in love with you and have been probably since I brought you to Perth for the first time, lets go for dinner before we spend six weeks apart.” That’s all you have to say. She’ll say yes.”

“Because we’re in the Middle fucking East. I’m not even supposed to get in a car with her, let alone be in public with her alone. And it’s pretty public that we’re not married so we can’t risk it. And don’t remind me that it’s gonna be fifty one days without her. That’s how long it’ll be till I see her once we get on that plane.”

“Dan…” But he was on a roll, finally able to explain everything that had been so painful to think about.

“We break so many rules in so many countries just to be able to sit at each others sides. I can get in trouble for sitting by her side in the car, holding her hand. It’s my thing every single day to be with her in the car. It’s our thing to go on ride to get to be alone for a minute before the rest of the world gets me. I can’t even stay in the same room as her if there isn’t someone there. I’m not supposed to go to bed hugging the girl of my dreams. Do you know the risk that I take every single time I sneak out of her room? The danger she’s in? There’s literal fucking morality police here. And every night we decide fuck it, it’s worth it and I just hug her tighter because it could turn into a living nightmare for her. So please. Don’t ask me “why not” like it’s some simple question because it’s not. There’s nothing I want more than that.”

It was quiet as Dan took a breath, the reminders of last year and the way they worried as he got back into the car after watching Romain escape the flames hit him again.

“Remember Bahrain last year? The way I hid in my drivers room with her?” Michael nodded. “That could have gotten us arrested for just being alone together and all that happened was she held onto me and stopped me from wanting to scream. The fact that we’re here so we have to do this? We have to pretend that it’s ok not to even get to hug each other? I’d kill for a podium, or even imagine a win, but then she couldn’t hug me. It’s backwards and it’s fucked and yeah I’m rich and white so we’d probably be fine but it’s not worth the risk. We do it anyway. Because we have to.”

“Mate. I’m sorry.”

“Just please. I have a plan. When we move into the new place I’m gonna talk to her about admitting everything. And next time she’s able to come to the farm I’m gonna propose. I’ve had the ring for a year. A little longer isn’t going to hurt.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing. I trust you, but don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I won’t. We’ll be good. She knows me better than I know myself.”

They nodded at each other and left the room, Blake and Em standing outside the hospitality with a few feet between them. Instead the four walked out to a car available for them to go back to the hotel. Ten days till the flight to Perth. He had to make the most of them.

—

Once they arrived in Abu Dhabi Em was counting down. They got in on Monday ahead of most of the rest of McLaren, checking into the hotel and getting their rooms. She had the emails and went to the counter, getting the keys and pointing out the boys across the lobby and the ridiculous amount of luggage they all travelled with. Travelling light was not a thing Formula One did.

The four envelopes were slid over, Em taking them and checking the keys. The little printed labels with their names were the same as in nearly any other Hilton, but seeing Dan’s on his own and hers on her own made her so frustrated.

She knew she’d been putting off thinking about the flight home after the race. Until they got to the airport she could pretend they were getting on the same plane, holding hands over the little divider like they did so often, curling up in bed and look at new apartments. They had months left on their self imposed timeline of the summer break, her lease was month to month, but they wanted this. A place that was theirs felt right for once.

“You ok?” Dan asked when Blake and Michael had gone up to their rooms. They were sitting on opposite sides of a coffee table, each fiddling with the envelope in their hands. The evening was a free one before the chaos of the final race of the season began. Both titles coming down to one race? It wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Yeah. Just…yeah.”

“It sucks.”

“It really sucks.” She smiled wistfully, trying to get herself together. They still had time. They weren’t leaving till Tuesday night, Lando agreeing to do the final day of tyre testing so Dan could make it home. The offer was there for Em to fly home early, as if that would happen. She hadn’t let them book her on an earlier flight to London. It wasn’t worth having a little less time with her boys.

“I just hate being apart. I hate not getting to share a room with you. Not even getting to give you a hug in public. I know it’s stupid, but this week?”

“It’s not forever.” Dan sounded different and she looked up at him, watching him search for his words. “After we move, y’know? Next year. We find the apartment and we move in and then we can figure out the rest.”

“That sounds really good.”

Their rooms were at least on the same floor, and she handed Dan the spare card for her room, watching him grin as she did. She went in and did her usual unpacking routine - toiletries in the bathroom, her planned clothes for the circuit hanging up neatly, checking the locks worked and the mirrors were real after one too many TikTok’s that terrified her. Her final step was putting her pillow on the bed, the habit Michael had made her pick up after one too many complaints about her awful sleeping habits. It didn’t particularly help, but she did it anyway.

They’d gotten in late, but there was only a one hour time difference. The room service menu looked good, a lamb kofta and lemon tart for dinner. The food arrived not long after she ordered and she settled at the desk to eat.

Three minutes later there was a knock at the door and it opened, Dan coming in with his own plate. A kiss to her head before he sat down with his steak, Em watching as he cut in and smiled at how it was cut.

“You’re a simple boy, eh Dimples?” She asked, enjoying how the first nickname she gave him that drunken night had stuck.

“I’ve got you and a steak, what else could I possibly want Emmy?”

“You know you don’t need to charm me, right?” He held out a forkful of peppers for her, in return she gave him some fries. 

“But if I want to?”

“Then by all means, but don’t expect magic. I didn’t bring anything fancy considering what customs here is like.” The last time she’d brought anything involving what she considered her nice underwear was in 2019 when her luggage had been searched. She wasn’t doing that again.

They ate in mostly silence, Dan leaving only to put his room service cart outside his door and hang the do not disturb sign on it. Once he was back they got ready for bed, another episode of Criminal Minds on TV as they cuddled and got comfy. Em couldn’t tell you what happened, instead lulled to sleep by Dan’s fingers in her hair and a kiss against her forehead every few minutes.

The next few days passed, and she could see the seething rivalry between Red Bull and Mercedes was going to spill over. Thing were tense in the paddock, she’d never felt an atmosphere like it. Her first two years were a party mode, people glad a season was over, relaxing and looking forward to the break. Last year was covid and weird. But this felt strange.

She was sitting having coffee with Britta on Thursday morning before media really kicked off and asked her the magic question.

“Has a final race been like this before? It feels…weird.” The other woman laughed, checking her watch and taking a sip before answering.

“2016. 2012 a little, but we won so I kind of forget it. Things didn’t feel as poisonous then. Everyone knew unless Sebastian didn’t finish he’d probably win, so that was the aim. But 2016 was rough, and we weren’t near Mercedes then. It’s going to be interesting.”

“Definitely.” She wanted to see Dan at the top of the standings, wanted to see him race and race well. But this felt weird. She’d known Max just out of his teens, focused and sure and cocky. Lewis had become a friend. It was weird calling him that, but it was how things were.

Seeing Dan finish out of the points wasn’t great, but it was over and the season was done. The safety car finish that wasn’t a safety car finish, the way it all ended up left a weird taste in her mouth. Em had no loyalty to any team despite the friendships she’d made with people across both of them. Splitting the trophies felt just. But it was still strange. That night they all went to a party held by someone, drinking and dancing. In the rented out room it felt safe to be near Dan, but as soon as they were leaving for the hotel it was that gap between them. Into the provided car and through the lobby and up to her room, Dan stepping in behind her and pinning her against the wall. The sex was fierce and frantic and desperate, both of them putting everything they had into it. Dan rubbing against her, filthy words falling out of his mouth about how she looked, how she felt, how good she was as she begged him for more and more until they were seeing stars and clutched together.

Monday was promo. Em sat at the side of the garage with her iPad, already slotting in dates for the following season. Her earplugs were carefully in her ears as she watched the filming happen, content for the off season between Lando and Dan. It was exhausting, but the season was over. So many flights and hotels and this and that and the other. They’d done the maths and realised they spent more time in hotels than their bedroom during the season. She wanted to go home.

But she didn’t. She didn’t want to be in the cold London apartment alone. She didn’t want to sit on their couch and hit her leg off the coffee table Dan hated. She didn’t want to put his helmet on the shelf alone. They had a ceremony for it, Dan’s arms around her as she slid it into its new home. But their time together was ticking away shorter and shorter and she didn’t want to think about it. So she pulled up the latest apartment listings he’d sent to see if any of them suited. And then frowned when she realised he was looking in his rental bracket, not hers.

“Penny for them?” Blake asked, slipping into the chair across from her. She made herself smile up, hitting the lock button on the iPad and closing the case.

“Not a lot. Looking at apartments, wondering what the hell Danny is thinking of with some of them. I told him my budget.”

“And you know Dan. He wants the perfect place. You two doing ok?”

“There’s no us two, Blake.” Her words were short but she’d had enough of everyone saying they were together.

“Tamothy you’re either being wilfully or deliberately blind. He worships the ground you walk on. You’re moving in together. I live beside you, I hear too much.”

“We’re moving into a two bedroom.” She took a breath before continuing, letting that sink in. “Dan and I are…we are complicated and messy but he is my best friend. He knows me better than anybody else does. And whatever is going on with us is between us. You know I love you, you know you’re my brother, but you have to let this be between us. Ok?” 

She took a sip of the iced tea beside her, stretching out her shoulders and arms the way Michael had instructed her to every half hour she was typing away. Blake looked like he was going to say something but Dan arrived over, grinning and wearing yet another OKX shirt.

“Did you take a look at the listings? I really like the SE1 one, it’s got balcony views over the Thames. If you can view when you’re back we can do the deposit?” He took her bottle and half emptied it, handing it back to Em who took another sip before looking up at him.

“I saw, except it’s five times the budget we said. Dan, seriously.”

“Emmy we can afford it. If we decide to do a budget by income like we should it’s me covering most of the expenses. Have a look at it?” He tried widening his eyes but she was immune from them. Mostly.

“No. We’re looking in the price range you and I set. Then if we can’t find anything that suits we’ll go higher. Understood?” He nodded. “This shoot is only supposed to be another twenty minutes, how’s it going?”

“My part’s nearly done. What’s next?”

“You get a full thirty minutes for lunch if you’re on time. Then it’s a couple of Android ads. I got them to give Blake a Pixel phone and tablet so you can look like you use them all the time instead of being the Apple geek we know you are. Once that’s done it’s a Gulf Oil pre-tape, a couple of holiday messages to record - Christmas, New Years, Lunar New Year because that’s before you’re back from Australia - and then you’re mostly done for the day. Apart from the Pirelli test meeting at five. That’s just going over the tires for tomorrow, the aim, introduce you to how the mule cars will work. That kind of thing.”

“You are my calendar countess, thank you Emmy! Going back to work now, are you both getting lunch then?”

“I’ll drag her from her desk!” Dan grinned at Blake’s response before jogging back. Once he was gone Blake stared at Em with wide eyes. “You drank from your bottle.”

“And?” She waved her hand at the papaya insulated metal bottle she carried with her everywhere. Water usually, but in hotter places it was iced tea with ice cubes carefully prodded through the lid. Everyone regularly in the garages had one.

“You never do that. I saw you nearly slap Michaels hand away for doing it. But you let Dan who was sweaty from being under huge lights all morning drink out of it and you drank out of it straight away.”

“So? It’s not a big deal.” It wasn’t. She was sanitary, that was all. Dan’s tongue was in her mouth most days, it wasn’t a big deal to share a water bottle. She forced Blake’s words out of her mouth as she started planning the 2022 Ric3 release schedule, only interrupted by going for lunch before spending the rest of her day on it. That night she didn’t do her usual day before checkout routine, instead curling up in bed with Dan for a lazy make out session before they went to sleep.

The next morning Em stopped packing and looked up at Daniel, watching him pace around the hotel room that he hadn’t left that morning, needing the extra time with her. He was more anxious than usual before getting in the car.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She pulled his chin down so he stared at her before getting on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“I just wish you were going to be in Perth with us. The kids miss you and want to see you, Mum and Dad keep bugging me that I have to be able to do something to get you in. We could do Melbourne or Sydney and spend it—“

“And you’d spend it away from your family when the entire reason you’re going back to Oz and spending fifteen days in a very small hotel room with Mikey is to see them. It sucks. It completely sucks that we’re going to be apart for two months. It sucks that we’re not spending Christmas together when we’ve spent almost every day of the last two years together. But you need to see them.” She couldn’t help the tears falling at her words, the realisation that she had to spend so much time away from her boys hitting her. They’d been her entire life, but they needed to see the other people who loved them even though she couldn’t go. She and Dan had poured over the regulations but had come to the same conclusion. She wasn’t Australian, she wasn’t married to an Australian, so she couldn’t enter Western Australia. None of Dan’s connections could get the restrictions lifted, even though she’d asked him not to try. He still had because of course he had.

“Emmy, don’t cry.” He sat on the bed and pulled her close, cradling her the same way they’d curl up on a jet together. Mike would be at the door any minute telling him to get his ass downstairs, testing was starting soon, but he didn’t care. She came first.

“I’m sorry. I just…ugh. I want to be there. I miss everyone. I want my big hug from everyone and the reminder to eat up because we don’t settle down in one place enough. I want to spend a day cooking with Grace and Michelle and getting shown the recipes she doesn’t trust you with. It’s just not fucking fair.” Dan’s hand ran through her hair, pushing kisses to her forehead as he soothed her. Seven fucking weeks. Fifty one days. It was the longest they’d spent apart since she’d gone to Barcelona in 2018.

“None of this is fair. I’ll come back to London, we can spend Christmas in the flat and start looking for our new place. I don’t want you alone for it or having to get the train to Liverpool.”

“You’re going to Perth. You already paid the stupid amount of money for hotel quarantine, we both know you don’t have a choice. I’ll be fine.”

She nearly convinced herself as she got off his lap the moment before Mike came into their room, wiping her eyes and picking up her tablet before joining them in the car. Blake had told her to take the day off, but there was already dates for sponsor videos and the next car launch, and some stupid OKX campaign involving Dan as a magician that she thought was ridiculous but she’d seen how much money they were personally paying him so it had to happen. While Dan drove laps around Yas Marina to put the season that had the highest highs and the lowest lows behind them she worked, tapping away at the keyboard with more force than she intended.

“What did the poor machine do to you?” She turned at the American accent, Zak Brown standing behind her looking her up and down. Emmy shook her head and put her press smile on.

“Decided to push more things onto a schedule than there’s hours in the day. What can I do for you, Mr Brown?” The older man’s expression was smarmy and she dreaded what he was about to say.

“We need Daniel to drive tom—“

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You want Daniel to drive tomorrow morning instead of doing the full run today. That’s not going to work. He’s booked on a flight to Perth at three in the morning and is booked into his hotel quarantine for when he arrives in Australia. This is non negotiable.” She wasn’t afraid to stand up to Brown anymore, not after the rumour Carmen had slipped her he’d spread.

“Lando can’t drive in the morning, he’s booked on a flight then.”

“I don’t care.” She stared at him, taking a breath before speaking. “Lando’s family is in England and he was able to spend most of 2020 and basically all of 2021 with them. They were able to be at races with him. Dan hasn’t seen his family since April last year apart from FaceTime, and thanks to the season running so late this year he’s already missing Christmas and Boxing Day with them. He’s not delaying seeing them by extra time. Plus, there’s flights to London nearly every hour, Lando can get any one of them. Dan’s flight isn’t changing. Don’t ask again.”

“And if I ask him to?” She hadn’t realised the car had pulled back into the garage, Dan making a beeline for his manager’s assistant and the CEO speaking in harsh whispers at the back of the garage.

“If you ask me to what?” He swallowed part of the protein smoothie Mike had handed him while waiting for Zak to speak.

“I was telling your little assistant here that Lando needs to go back to London tonight to see family, so I need you to do tomorrow morning’s testing session. She told me you wouldn’t do it, but I know you will, right?” Emmy looked at Dan, dreading his response

“I can’t. I’ve organised hotel quarantine with the WA government, I’ve paid for it. If I’m not on that flight then I miss my quarantine spot and there’s no guarantee I’ll get another one. Lando told me yesterday afternoon he was fine about it, he had plans to spend Thursday golfing in Dubai before flying home. If Emmy says something about my schedule then that’s my schedule, she’s the one who keeps all that.”

They were a united front, and she could feel the heat radiating from his sweaty race suit just behind her. Instead of leaning back like she wanted she stayed still to watch Brown take in Dan’s words.

“Ok. We’ll make it work. Dan, Emmy.” He turned to walk away, but Emmy stopped him.

“Mr Brown?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Emma, if you don’t mind. Only certain people call me Emmy, I’d like to keep it that way.”

They watched him walk out of the garage towards hospitality and it took Dan less than five seconds to grab her hand and pull her back to his drivers room.

“Dan?” She asked once he’d closed the door, pushing her against it.

“That was fucking hot. Making sure I get to go? Standing up to him? Not letting him call you the name I gave you? Hot as hell.”

His lips dropped to her neck, tracing the length of the silver chain she always wore until he reached the number three on it. It was her birthday present from 2018, given to her during the summer break. Just weeks after they’d decided to be friends who slept together. 

She hated the word friends. 

“You have to eat. And drive. We can’t right now.”

“At the hotel? I want to say goodbye to you properly. Two months is too long.”

“I know, Babe. I know.”

She pressed open mouthed kisses to his jaw before pushing him slightly, pulling her ipad to her as she perched on the little desk before Mike arrived back. They were the picture of professionalism, apart from Dan’s pinkie running up and down her thigh.

When he was back in the car she had her last meeting with Michael, the two of them running through the final plans for the online platform over the winter, the pre recorded information ready to go.

“You doing ok?” Michael asked and she nodded, trying to smile. “Really?”

“I will be. It’s just gonna be weird spending time without the three of you. Dan and I haven’t been apart since we were all in lockdown.”

“Any news about you and Dan?”

“Gossiping, much?!” She tried laughing, not letting her worries show. “He’s my guy, he’s my best friend. Whatever the media or anyone says doesn’t matter. Danny knows more about me than anyone else.”

“You know we’re on your side.”

There was nothing else she could say to that. Fortunately Dan appeared out of the car, changed but unshowered.

“Winter break, here we come! I’m thinking hotel to nap, and then we can get food before we change and head to the airport? Book the restaurant for eight thirty?” Dan’s curls were wild and he still had the balaclava marks on his cheeks that Em loved to kiss off his face. Instead she stood up, adjusting the bright orange shirt as she picked up the last few things she had.

“Yeah, works for us. Make sure we’re all packed up so we can just grab them and go straight to the airport. Who’s driving? Emmy?”

“Nah, not tonight. I’m too tired, and considering the way things are around here a woman driving a car full of men?” She smiled, Blake and Mike realising the excuse she wasn’t saying.

“I’ll drive. Be fine. Let’s head back.” Blake shepherded them out, everyone saying goodbye to the team they’d worked with for the year. Em checked her watch, eleven hours until she’d have said goodbye to her boys for two months, and she wasn’t ready. 

The drive back to the Hilton was quick. Mike took the passenger seat without asking leaving her and Dan holding hands in the back. When they were in the garage they waved goodbye, everyone going to their room and agreeing to meet later for dinner. Once the door to their room was closed Dan pulled her close, his hands half lifting her as her legs wrapped around his waist when she jumped.

“Dan,” Em groaned, holding onto his shoulders.

“Ive got you baby girl, I’ve got you. I promise I’ve got you.” His lips moved further down her neck as he pulled the team shirt off her body to reveal a new pink bra. “For me?”

“Wanted to look pretty for you, give you something to remember.”

“You say that like I could ever forget you.” 

She was lost in the sensations, both of them shuffling clothing off in a desperate attempt to be closer. Dan’s fingers slid through the matching underwear, long digits brushing through the wet folds.

“Dan I need more. Please?” Her hips bucked up and he laid her on one of the beds in the room, hovering over her.

“I’ve got you, Emmy. I’ve always got you.” Dan’s brown eyes were clear, the depths of emotion starting. She gasped as he entered her fully, filling her to the hilt in that way she knew so, so well. Every single time they slept together it felt right, Dan stretching her perfectly. She rolled her hips and smirked at the groan he let out, taking the hint to move.

Never ask Emmy what he did in those moments, the way he moved and brought her to her first orgasm, and then her second. They were chasing their highs together, lips clashing and his thumb rubbing circles around her clit just above where she was so gloriously full.

“Let me feel you, Emmy. So perfect right like that, let me feel how good you feel.”

“Danny…Danny please babe, just there please.” She couldn’t tell who came first, the two of them hitting their climax at nearly the same time. 

The last thing she wanted was for him to pull out and move, to remind her that their time together was getting shorter and shorter and they’d have to say goodbye soon. Dan seemed the same way, pushing kisses to her chest before being forced to move. Getting cleaned up after sex was easy for them now, but instead he lifted her up and carried her into the bathroom, ignoring Emmy’s complaints.

“Dan! Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!! What are you doing?!” She called, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip.

“Bath. If we don’t get one for a while I want a proper one. We don’t have wine, but we can relax for a little while. Please?” She could never say no to his big brown eyes, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Sounds perfect.”

The tub in the suite was large enough for both of them, Em leaning back into his arms in the hot water. Every so often she felt Dan push a kiss to her head, smiling at the movement. 

“Are you going home for Christmas?” He asked and she fought but failed to stop her body going stiff. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine. London’s as much home as anywhere else, either there or Monaco or Perth. But no, I’m staying away from Liverpool. I didn’t even get a text asking what I was doing for it this year.” The realisation that she hadn’t gotten anything after her happy birthday text in August hurt a little, but she just relaxed into Dan again.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair.”

“None of it is, but it’ll be fine. I’ll curl up, take care of Blake’s plants, get your schedule for the start of next year done. Who knows, I might use some of the ridiculous salary you pay me and take a holiday. Chloe said she and Scotty are spending New Years in Switzerland. She doesn’t want me to be lonely.”

“They’re good friends. You should go. Don’t spend it all alone in the flat without me. I might look up some places for us? I’ll find some that are in your price range, I promise.” She leaned back against him to relax before she replied.

“That’s the plan Roomie.” The moving in talk gutted her every time he brought it up. As friends. Friends who slept together and were intimate together and who loved each other so much it hurt to be separated.

“I’ll see what I can find. Somewhere with lots of light and a balcony I think.”

“Sounds perfect.”

She could have fallen asleep there but the alarm she’d set went off, making her stand up as Dan ran his fingers down her legs.

“Emmy…”

“No, Danny. We need to get ready. Once we leave here you know what the rules are.” The stupid unmarried couple UAE rules. The reason she insisted she stood between Blake and Mike for most of the time they were outside, because if she and Danny were beside each other holding hands was the least they usually did.

“You know, right?” His voice was plaintive, Em dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“I know. I know you do but y’know, right?”

A squeeze of her hand was the only response.

Dinner was fun, the four of them at the table, laughing and joking. The time of year and what was about to happen was strictly off limits for discussion, as was the safety car that had fucked up Dan’s chance of points in the last race. Instead they talked about watching other teams do tyre testing, Kimi’s retirement party that the guest of honour had left after twenty minutes, the way teams had shaped up for the next season. 

“Yeah I’m surprised Haas kept Mazepin, but I guess money talks.” Blake gestured with his fork as he spoke, Em rolling her eyes.

“Just keep him away from me next year, ok? I…yeah. The rumours are bad enough. He creeps me out.”

“Did he do anything?” Dan put his cutlery down and looked at her, Em shaking her head immediately.

“He didn’t get the chance. But he knows exactly where to go to find certain people, he knows what to do. Nothing I can report and say is inappropriate, but enough that I can tell he knows he’s crossing the line. It fucking sucks. And I can’t prove it but he was spreading the worst of the rumours over the summer.” She twirled spaghetti around her fork, eating it before she could say anything else. Spending time with Mick trying to badly teach her German generally meant Mazepin was around and she hated that.

“If anything happens.” An eyebrow raise told her the rest.

“I know what to do.” She took the chance to run her foot along his calf, making sure he could feel how calm she was. She wasn’t ruining the last part of her day with her boys with crap.

The drive to the airport was fine. Two cars had been ordered because of the law that she wasn’t supposed to be in a car with any of the boys, but instead of her slipping into one of the SUVs alone Dan got in opposite her. The driver was discrete and kept quiet, Em and Dan holding hands for the entire drive to Dubai. The hour passed too quickly, and they arrived ready to go in the dark night.

Check in and security was quick, Em picking up a few things in the duty free shopping. Once they were ready the four of them went to the Emirates lounge, settling into a corner. Mike and Blake took the outer seats so she and Dan could be beside each other, a glass of champagne for everyone on the low table between them.

She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, the clock past midnight and the realisation she was saying goodbye to them. Her fingers were linked with Dan’s and they were silent, three occasional squeezes the only form of communication between them. She could tell when Blake and Mike noticed what was happening, their nudges between each other. Em held her breath, but then Dan realised what was happening and pulled her in.

“We can’t,” Em gasped out, worried about what would happen if anyone saw.

“I don’t care. Emmy, you need some comfort. This isn’t…fuck. Fuck it all. I’m done. I’m going up and changing my flight, I’m going to London. How the hell am I supposed to leave you like this? I don’t want you to be alone.”

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“Danny, you can’t.” She looked up at him and made him stare at her, fixing his gaze with her own. “You haven’t seen your family in more than eighteen months. You’ve got your hotel quarantine ready to go. They’re holding Christmas dinner until you’re out of quarantine and can see them all. You have to go.”

“I don’t want you to be alone.” He squeezed her hand three times but she could see his resolve breaking. 

“I’ll be ok. We’ll FaceTime every couple of days. But look here.” She lit her phone screen, showing him the photo of her, Isaac, and Isabella from Christmas 2019 when the kids were so much smaller and a pandemic was barely a thought. “Those kids are so excited to see their uncle Dan again. You have a full suitcase of presents waiting to be loaded. Grace is dying to hug her boy and she and Joe just want to congratulate you for Monza. You have to go.”

When Dan pulled her into a hug she knew she’d won, and the two of them stayed curled up in a chair like that together. Mike and Blake moved chairs so nobody could see them as a just in case, but Dan held her and Em breathed in his scent deeply. Fifty one days. She could do this. 

“Passengers for Emirates flight EK 420 to Perth, First Class is boarding shortly. Please proceed to the boarding gate for transport to your plane.”

She went to stand at the announcement but Dan didn’t let her go, squeezing her tight. 

“Another minute. Please?”

“Ok.”

They got another three before Blake shook Dan’s shoulder to get them to move. 

“Mate, we have to go. C’mon.”

Em forced an all too fake smile on her face as she hugged her boys, Michael holding her close for a moment. 

“Look after yourself,” she murmured, watching as he nodded seriously. 

“And I’ll look after him for you, Wiggle. I’ll email you those new video ideas and we can see what works?”

“Perfect.”

Hugging Blake was the same, arms wrapped around her as he pushed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Wish you were coming back with us. If we could…”

“It’s not your fault. Blame Australia. Gonna miss you Blakey.”

“Miss you too Ems.”

Dan was the final one to grab her and she didn’t want to let go. He pushed the quickest kiss to her lips as he hugged her, Em wanting to deepen it but knowing she couldn’t. 

“I’ll change to the London flight. I’ll do it now.”

“And then your family will hate me. I’ll see you soon. You know, right?”

“I know. Y’know, right?”

She kissed his cheek before letting go, stepping back to give distance between them all. 

“Go get your flight. I’ll text when I land in London, please let me know when you get into Perth. Good luck with the quarantine.”

She waved as they walked away, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ever since they’d been locked down on the farm she’d spent every single day with at least Dan, if not Blake and Mike right there beside her. But now she was facing fifty one days alone and all Em could do until they announced her flight was cry.

Taglist (let us know if you want to be added!)

@dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiophobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e

[jstarr86]

Randomness in my head hope you enjoy. OC face claim will be Guilia

Italics are Japanese Bold Italic is Text

The best kept secret of NJPW. At least they had been until he left. Drawn like a moth to a flame it was a whirlwind of passion; at least it had been until he revealed he was leaving. He was going back to America and he couldn’t even give her a heads up. She didn’t find out until after his match during the post match interview when he’d dropped a bomb. Her water bottle hitting the floor as liquid poured out as she stood shocked but quickly cleaned up the mess pretending that she hadn’t heard the words he’d spoken. Later her phone rang half tempted to hit the fuck you button she instead did as she always had and swiped right accepting the call.

“What?”

“You free.”

“Mhmm.”

“You good Kaira.”

“I’m fine Tama. The door will be unlocked.” She said hanging up. She signed taking a quick shower and changing and laying across her bed. She heard the door open as he arrived and soon enough his frame was standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Sup beautiful.”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

“Where you gonna tell me your leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” She questioned as he looked stuck making her chuckle bitterly.

“Yeah”

“ when on the flight back to America. Asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Makaira.”

“What.”

“You forreal mad.”

“Nope don’t fucking care.”

“Yeah you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be this pissed.” She rolled her eyes the taller in her hardened face slightly breaking as he leaned over her pressing his soft lips into the back of her shoulder. His bronze skin contrast against hers.

“I’m still upset with you.”

“Why baby. I’m sorry”

“You could have told me instead of me finding out like that.”

“I know I’m sorry, just, I miss. I miss my kids Makaira they’re growing up without me.”

“And I understand that I’d never stand in your way but a heads up would’ve been nice.”

She slapped him lightly as the aggressively fucked. Never had sex between them been so passionate yet volatile; but nonetheless amazing. He smacked ass in response gently gripping her throat feeling the moan she tried to suppress causing him to smirk and flip them over tossing one of her legs over his shoulder as she responded loudly her head going back as his lips met her throat.

“When are you leaving?” She asked as they lay in bed his fingers trailing up and down her side.

“The end of next month.” She nodded not speaking no words to say, then again what could she really say. She knew it was over, that whatever the past few years had been was coming to an end a end she didn’t know what to feel about. His last night came faster than either had thought or liked for that matter.

Can I see you she looked at her phone as it dinged it was late she contemplated ignoring him saying no but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, he’d started to mean too much; more than she’d ever let him know.

You have your kid with you

He’s asleep and my brothers can watch him. Can I see you

Fine

“Welcome to the WWE Makaira.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the meeting she grabbed lunch and went back to her new home. A nice little two bedroom apartment in Orlando. The warm Florida sun a huge contrast. Perpetual summer not seasons like she’s been used to in Japan. Part of her missed home but she knew this was where she belonged. The past few months had been hard, he’d left and almost taken a piece of her with him. Harder he’d left a piece of himself, at least for a few a bit over a month. Something that had shocked and terrified her. But she didn’t get to enjoy it or hell even tell him. A mere week and a half after finding out she damn near collapsed in pain at home there was so much blood. She made it to the hospital only to find out she was losing the fetus the last piece of him.

Ironically after he’d left a few months later she had a call and offer from the same company. They’d even offered to wait for her, to finish out the few shows she’d signed for with other places. She’s finally lost her beloved NJPW women’s title to her friend Mercedes and she dropped her tag title. Thankfully shouldn’t have to see him at least not much. He’d been immediately sent to the main roster she on the other hand was going NXT. Then again that would be under Shawn Michaels one of if not ther favorite wrestler. She sighed packing.

She sighed packing her bags. Training had been ok training was going good, she got along well with generally everyone and she’d managed to evade him, easier done on different brands. She looked up when commotion started and her throat tightened as her stomach rose to her throat. He was here. He was beating up the tag teams in the ring leaving the back scrambling.

She quickly grabbed her things leaving she couldn’t face him. Why was he here why had they done this. God he looked beautiful and she couldn’t help her eyes trailing over his shredded frame. She shook her head clear of reminiscing of her hands trailing those defined muscles and abruptly left hands shaking as she desperately tried to get the right key as she made her way to her car she heard the doors burst open and their loud voices. She tossed her bags in her car the noise suddenly quieting and she made the mistake as she went to open her door if looking up and her eyes locked with his, her breath hitching.

“Makaira.” She didn’t hear him but she could read his lips and what he said. She quickly got in starting the car and only stopping slamming her breaks as he stood in the way leaving her no other choice but to stop because she wouldn’t run him over. Her eyes glanced to where his brother and his guess kinda cousin stood watching in confusion. “Open the door.” She shook her head waving her hand for him to move. He leaned over putting his hands on her hood “I’m getting in.”

“No.”

“Makaira Sakari Deschene.” Her eyes widened as he spoke angrily saying her full name. She saw his brothers eyebrow raise. “Jacob come here.” As he walked over he pointed. “Stay here so she can’t move.” He came to her door leaning down “unlock the door.”

“Go away.”

“Unlock the fucking door awee.” She paused as he spoke calling her baby but she was shocked not knowing he knew the word let alone the meaning. Her fathers native language. She looked at him trying to keep the hard look through the cracked window she was between a rock and a hard place clearly he wanted to talk and she didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to commit vehicular manslaughter. She sighed angrily tossing the car in park and hitting unlock as he walked around the car and got in shutting the door. He rolled the window down sticking his head out. “I’ll hit y’all up later.” He then looked at her. “Drive.” She took a deep breath silently listening as Jacob moved and she drove off. The awkwardness filling the space.

“Where am I going?” She asked quietly soft voice barley above a whisper but she knew he heard her, his head turning towards her out of her peripheral was indication

“I fuck it your place or wait do you got a roommate?”

“No.” She drove home parking her car she felt him behind her as she walked. Goosebumps lining her pale skin that came with her mixed heritage. Half Japanese and half Native American. Her parents had met while her father had been stationed with the army in Japan.

“This looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“How’ve you been.”

“What do you want?” She asked. She didn’t know what to feel, angry, sad, happy, nothing even looking at him was hard things he didn’t know that she couldn’t tell him, would never tell him.

“You left Japan.”

“So.”

“Didn’t ever see that one.”

“Yeah well pay good it’s WWE.” She replied her slight accent in her voice.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave, especially you’re parents.”

“Speaking of parents how is yours.” She asked

“Good you?”

“Good.” She sighed looking at him “what do you want Tama.”

“I, I missed you.” She rolled her eyes. He hadn’t so much had called

“Missed, missed me.” She bitterly laughed as he looked a mix of annoyed and hurt. “You don’t miss me you miss body.”

“You were more than that.”

“Was I?” She asked “tell me what was then. Late nights sex stolen moments. The best secret no one knew of.”

“Hitori knew.”

“What?”

“He knew he called me out my last night, he knew for months.”

“So.”

“So nothing we had something.”

“Sex we had sex.”

“It was more than that and you know it.”

“Wherever Tama.” He abruptly stood mere inches from her as he reached out to touch her. Large warm hand gently meeting her check, his long fingers curling around the neck as his thumb softly rubbed her cheek.

“I missed you Kai.” He spoke softly but with conviction. Her eyes met his, looking briefly over his face his brown eyes pool of chocolate shed drunkenly told him one night they reminded her of chocolate chips while she munched on chocolate chip cookies making him laugh. The scar on his forehead. His soft thick lips with a perfect cupids how enough to make a any girl jealous. His long eyelashes shed once pranked him as he slept in exhaustion and put mascara on him he hadn’t been that happy after that the facial hair he’d dyed covering the grays that she’d liked. The salt and pepper creeping into his beard she’d found attractive.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t.” She barley whispered before his lips met hers. Passion igniting into an inferno as they tasted each other for the first time in months. She pulled away as hard as it was both their chest heaving. “I I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He asked quietly his low voice sending shivers down her spine

“This I we can’t.”

“Why can’t we.”

“I’m ou know why.”

“No I don’t. We had something Makaira it was special.”

“It was a hidden secret for years.”

“Because that’s what we agreed on shit you didn’t think I didn’t wanna let people know, that I didn’t think about throwing it all out the window every time I saw you.”

“I-“

“If you believe that your fucking crazy.”

“I-“

“Please, let me love you.”

“You can’t love me, you have a life, you have kids.”

“I had a kid the whole time we was together pick a different excuse. After everything we’ve been thru Makaira.”

“I-.” He cut her off kissing her more passionately then she’d ever experienced and it took her breath away. She knew her resolve was cracking if anything he’d always been her weakness, since whatever this was started. “We live different lives now.”

“Nah we don’t we live in the same world.” He said pressing his lips to hers

“Different brand different schedule, I-“

“Stop the bullshit excuses.”

“I-“

“I think I love you.”

“No you don’t it’s just sex.”

“Because that’s what you want I want more I’ve been wanting more. Sex isn’t love love is seeing someone at their worst and still choosing to love them.”

“You haven’t seen my worst.”

“Than let me.”

“Tama- I.” He kissed her again slowly but surely short circuiting her brain “Everyone’s gonna think I only got hired for fucking you.”

“Man fuck what everyone thinks, you’re here because you’re one of the best and deserve it, no one even knew about the past few years and shit for a half year we wasn’t even together because of lockdown I was in Florida and you were still in Japan.” She grabbed his head bringing his tall frame down to hers their kiss heated as she ran her hands over his torso feeling his defined muscles before bring her hands back up sliding them over his shoulders and around his neck as their kiss heated up. She squealed in his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms blindly walking. Almost like he knew where to go as she felt the bed meet her back, for never being here he sure figured his way around fast.

“Oh my god” she moaned loudly. She’d forgotten how amazing he was when it came to intimacy.

“You gonna get a damn noise complaint.”

“Fuck the noise.” She gasped out “Tama” she cried out in pleasure clingling to him nails raking down his muscular back as he grunted in pain. Her hips moving involuntarily making him sink deeper as they chased a release and high they both didn’t know they’d missed.

“Ofa atu.”

“Ayoo’aniinishni.” She replied as they kissed while trying to regulate their breaths. He eventually moved off her pulling her small frame into his arms. “Now what?” She asked tracing the tattoo on his forearm. The intricate art fascinating her. She’d eventually gotten a tattoo hidden even from her parents a small sakura blossom on her hip, the only person to ever see it had been him.

“We make it work. W make it work.” He said kissing her head as he felt her breathe even out as she fell asleep. A small smirk gracing his face as he turned into her breathing in her scent as he let himself fall asleep.

Awee means baby in Navajo

Ofa atu means I love you in Tongan

Ayoo’aniinishni means I love you in Navajo

[ladyeyrewrites]

Feelings Hurled Like Hand Grenades

Read from Chapter One

Rated M

2,470 words

TW: child abuse depicted in the flashback scene as well as one instance of the f slur, depiction of alcoholism

Chapter Five: The Trap That Was Longing

Mikey watched helplessly as his eleven-year-old daughter Annie stomped away from him leaving him standing in his ex-wife’s driveway with his ex and their seven-year-old. Cassie looked between Mikey and where her big sister had gone as though torn between two loyalties. “It’s okay, Cas,” Mikey knelt. “You can go with her. I won’t be mad.”

At least Cassie gave him a hug before running inside after her older sister.

“I don’t even know what I said,” Mikey looked to his ex. Annie had lasted all of five minutes before laying into him about never being there and how he obviously didn’t care about them anymore and how she hated him.

Maggie shrugged. She’d cut her hair since the last time Mikey had seen her and she’d died it hot pink. It was different, not bad different but the difference just highlighted how much Mikey’s life had changed in the last six months.

“You missed her game last weekend,” Maggie pointed out. “And yes, I know that you told her ahead of time that you were going out of town. And I’m not blaming you for wanting to spend time with your brothers. In fact, I think it’s healthy. I’m proud of you.” She shook her head and even though Mikey had accepted that it was well and truly over between them, his breath still caught in his throat at how the light hit her eyes and made them sparkle like emeralds.

Mikey sighed, pulling his mind away from the trap that was longing for something he couldn’t have. Better focus on their daughters than on all the ways he’d fucked up and lost Maggie’s trust. Although, it seemed like he was rapidly losing their trust as well. “It just feels like every time I put one train back on the right track, another one derails,” he said. “I guess it’s about time she figured out what a massive fuck-up, I am.” He ran his hand through his thinning hair and wasn’t that an insult to injury seeing that Tommy still had a full head of hair with no noticeable thinning when Mikey was struggling to hide his receding hairline.

“Mikey, you’re trying. I can see that. Cassie can see that. Even Annie can see that when she isn’t angry,” said Maggie, rubbing her arms against the chill breeze. “She’s eleven and puberty’s coming in hot.”

Which was definitely true if nothing else was. Mikey swore that every time he saw Annie she’d grown another inch or her face had changed – snub little baby nose elongating into the classic Kinard profile. Pretty soon he and Maggie were going to have to have a talk about which one of them was going to give Annie the talk or whether they’d sit down to do it together. Eleven seemed too young for that, but kids seemed to be growing up faster these days, especially the girls. “I wish there was something I could do,” said Mikey. And it was more than just wishing he could help Annie not be angry anymore. There was a part of him that wanted to find away to turn back time to when Annie was his little buddy, always chasing after him, hanging on his every word, dressing him up in tutus and tiaras and begging him to read her stories. Where had that little girl gone?

Keep Reading below the cut or on Ao3

Maggie sighed. She did that a lot. It was the soundtrack of their marriage, especially towards the end. They’d never been the kind of couple to raise their voices at each other, which Mikey supposed was one thing they’d gotten right. “Just keep showing up,” said Maggie.

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “I really am sorry I missed the game, but with Tommy’s schedule, it’s really hard to find something that works for all three of us and I figured, what’s one game? I’ve made all the others this season.”

“I know,” said Maggie. “You’ve been really present these last few months and I think that might be part of the problem.”

Mikey frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted me to pull my act together so I could be there for the girls.”

“I do and you’ve been doing really well,” said Maggie. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She pinched the bridge of her nose like she always did when she was trying to find the right words. “I guess, Annie still isn’t used to this new and improved version of her dad. She doesn’t trust it yet and so when you didn’t show up it probably made her think about all the other times you haven’t shown up for her because of the drinking. She’s probably wondering what the point of getting her hopes up is if you’re just going to stop showing up again. To her, it’s not just one game potentially every game after.”

“But it’s not. I’m not,” Mikey protested.

“She doesn’t know that, Mike,” said Maggie. “And quite frankly, neither do I because I’ve been through this all before: the drinking reaches a peak, you fuck up, you get sober, you stop going to meetings, something happens to push you off of the wagon and we repeat.” Before Mikey could respond, Maggie held up a finger to indicate she wasn’t finished. “This time does seem different, I’ll give you that,” she added. “I can see how much work you’re putting in. You’re doing everything right. But it’ll take time for Annie to feel like it’s safe to fully trust you.”

Mikey’s first instinct was to protest, and he’d been learning recently that his first instinct wasn’t worth shit so he took a breath and dug past the knee jerk reaction to find the logic in his ex-wife’s words. “You’re right,” he said. “Aunt Gina keeps telling me that it’s going to take time for things with Tommy to get where I want them to be, and I guess it’s the same with you and the girls.”

Maggie nodded. “I know you want everything to hurry up and be fixed but—”

“That’s not how life works,” Mikey finished. “I know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Maggie. “I’m just glad to see you looking healthy and making positive changes in your life.”

Mikey couldn’t help but smile. “You think me trying to fix things with Tommy is positive?”

She fixed him her “you’re being a dumbass” look. “I’ve known you since we were twenty,” she said. “Fifteen years is a lot of time to learn about someone’s regrets. I know what happened with Tommy ranks pretty high on that list for you. I just hope it all goes well.”

“Me too,” said Mikey. “It’d be great if the girls could have the chance to meet him.”

Maggie looked hesitant. “We’ll see,” she said.

“What?” Mikey snapped, defensively. “Is it cuz Tommy’s gay?”

Maggie shook her head and laid her hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with your brother being gay,” she said. “I honestly don’t care one way or the other. But I do care about giving our kids as much stability as I can. What if we introduce the girls to their uncle and then somewhere down the line you and Tommy get in another fight? Then they lose another person in their life. They’re still confused about why they haven’t seen your Dad in a while.” They’d both realised that Dad being in Mikey’s life was one of his triggers for drinking and so they’d decided as part of their divorce mediation to cut off all communication. The funeral was the first and only time Mikey had seen his father since the divorce.

“That makes sense,” said Mikey.

“I know it does,” said Maggie. “So, do you think things are going to go well in the long run with you and Tommy?”

Mikey paused before speaking, he wanted to be honest with Maggie and himself and Maggie would sniff out any bullshit as soon as it left his lips. “I’d say it’s sixty-forty,” he said. “We both want it to work, but you know me and my big mouth, and I know how Tommy likes to run from his problems. So, yeah, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“When do you see him next?” Maggie asked.

Mikey shrugged. “Not sure yet. We talked about Tommy and his fiancé coming up here next time. Apparently, there are some jewellers in San Fran they want to check out before deciding where they’re getting their rings made. And Tommy wants me to meet Evan. Not sure if Tony’s going to be there or not.” An idea came to him then. “Hey, maybe you could meet them.”

Maggie looked sceptical. “Isn’t that a bit early?” she asked. “Don’t you guys have things to work through on your own still?”

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “But if I hadn’t done what I did, then you guys would’ve met back when you and I started dating. So, it’s kind of overdue isn’t it. Also, then you can get a read on whether or not you want the girls to meet Tommy.”

Maggie shook her head but there was a look in her eye that told Mikey she was going to say yes, and she did. “Fine,” she said. “Let me know when and where and I can drop the girls off with my mom or Gina. Just make sure it’s not during one of Annie’s games this time.”

Mikey grinned. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll set it up.”

#

After their lunch in LA, Mikey had asked Tommy to share his work schedule to make it easier to plan their meetups, which conveniently made it easier for Mikey to check and see when Tommy was more likely to be able to take his calls.

He called his older brother as soon as he got home from his failed visit with his kids – not a complete failure, he guessed since Cassie came back out before Mikey left to give him a hug and a lumpy pinch pot she’d made in art class.

Now, sitting on his second hand sofa in his too quite apartment, Mikey rubbed his thumb over his daughter’s fingerprints, embedded in the fired clay as he pulled up Tommy’s contact card and pressed call. Luckily, Tommy answered. He sounded a little short of breath. “Hey.”

“Hey Tommy, is this a good time?” Mikey asked. From the music playing in the background it sounded like Tommy was maybe at the gym.

“Yeah, I just wrapped up a workout,” said Tommy. “You have perfect timing. What’s up?”

“You know how we were talking about you guys coming up to hangout sometime?” Mikey asked.

“Yeah, Evan and I were going to check on some dates today.”

“That’s uh, awesome,” said Mikey. “Listen, Maggie wants to meet you when you’re here.”

“That’s your ex, right?” said Tommy.

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “I was talking to her about introducing the kids to you, which I know it’s probably a little soon for that, but a guy can hope, right? Anyway, she says she wants to meet you first.”

He hears Tommy let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” said Tommy. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

“It’s not weird?” Mikey asked. “Cuz you can say no if it’s weird. You don’t need to get wrapped up in my family drama if you don’t want to.”

Tommy chuckled. “I thought the whole point of us meeting up was to get involved in each other’s family drama. It’s not weird to want to introduce me to the people who are important to you, Mikey.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Mikey. “I guess I was overthinking things.”

“That’s fine,” said Tommy. The background sounds from his end of the line shifted, the music cutting off with the slam of a door. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Mikey asked.

A car door shuts, cutting off the sound of traffic and wind on Tommy’s end. “Yeah, we haven’t really talked about how things were for you after I left.”

Mikey’s grip on Cassie’s pinch pot tightened. His stomach clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut. “It was fucking bad, Tommy,” he bit out.

2002

Mikey watched in horror as the coffee mug slipped from his fingers. Time seemed to slow as it fell, coffee burning his fingers as he tried to catch it, but it slipped from his grasp once again.

It shattered against the corner of the coffee table, milky brown liquid spraying over the rug.

Dad startled awake in his recliner. “God damn it, Mikey! What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Mikey hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to make you coffee.”

Dad lurched out of his chair, meaty hand clenching around Mikey’s forearm. Too hard. Hard enough Mikey wouldn’t be able to wear short sleeves for the next week or so. “Useless!” Dad shoved him. “Even that faggot brother of yours could do better!”

Mikey fell. He tried to break his fall like Tommy had taught him, but the coffee table was in the way, and he caught his shoulder on it.

The wood cracked.

Mikey bit his lip to keep from crying out. Tony didn’t need to see this.

“Go and get the belt,” Dad said.

2025

And that was just a fraction of what Tommy had gone through. Tommy who couldn’t even breathe without Dad finding something to poke at. At least Dad had never broken any of Mikey’s bones. “But that’s not your fault, Tommy,” said Mikey once he’d torn himself out of the memory.

“Still, I wish I’d been there for you guys,” said Tommy.

“Yeah,” said Mikey. “But you’re here now.” His throat felt dry and other memories threatened to follow the first. We wanted a drink. Maybe a shot of tequila or some of that cheap whiskey that was strong enough to thin paint, strong enough to thin memory.

There was a liquor store just up the street from him – a three-minute walk at most. He just needed something to take the edge off. Something to send the memories packing. Something to help him forget what a terrible brother he was, what a terrible father he was. Never around. Never useful. Never good enough.

Something to take away the pain of his daughter hating him.

Something—

Mikey looked down at his daughter’s lopsided little pinch pot still gripped in his hand. The craving didn’t go away, but his resolve strengthened. “I, uh, gotta go,” he said. “Let me know those dates and I’ll tell Maggie the plan.”

“Okay,” said Tommy and there was something in his voice that made it seem like he wanted to say more, but he swallowed whatever it might have been. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” said Mikey. He hung up and called his sponsor.

[aristocratic-otter]

Howdy y'all!

It seems like I can only find the wherewithal to post on Sunday these days. Please don't stop tagging me for Wednesdays, though! I have hope that I'll build up the free time for it again!

Thanks to @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @wellbelesbian, @artsyunderstudy, @nightimedreamersghost, @rimeswithpurple, @shemakesmeforget, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @facewithoutheart, @cutestkilla and @alexalexinii for tagging me over the last couple of weeks!

First things first, To Heal A Broken Mind is in the homestretch, y'all! It ought to be done in the next two weeks, and then goes to my beta, and then I finally get to share it with @yellobb-old and the rest of the world! Here's a bit of softness from the final chapter:

“I love you!” I blurt, and then squeak and hide my face in his shoulder. But he doesn’t let me hide, just chuckles and lifts my head up so I’m facing him again. . 

“I love you too,” he says solemnly, and I feel tears burn at the corner of my eyes. “But hold that thought. After tomorrow, say it to me again. And I’ll do the same. And we’ll start our new life…or, at least, my new life, with you in it. For good this time”

Westward Son is also on the downhill slide, both in the story and in the completion of it! I estimate that the final chapter will go up before November. Here's our crew getting to know a new friend:

Acorn knows where all sorts of forest gleanings may be had. He shows us berry bushes that still have ripe fruit, though chilled by the frost. He digs up squirrel hordes of acorns (his namesake, he chuckles), along with other nuts and seeds. And, while he is strictly a plant eater, he isn’t offended when we hunt the beasts of the forest. He even shows us the best places to set traps or string fishing lines. 

When I ask him if he’s bothered by us eating meat in his presence, he’s philosophical. “Should I grow angry at the puma or the wolf because they consume the beautiful deer and rabbits? Their needs are not mine, and so I am content with eating differently from humans, because I am not human.”

The next chapter of Saving Simon Snow is coming soon, lol (and so is Simon) (warning for smutty snippet below):

It’s harder than you’d think to roll your eyes and sneer in disgust when the love of your life is rocking in and out of you, and you feel so full that you’re certain you’ll burst. But I put in the work. 

“Consummated? You’re a moron, Snow,” I grumble, even as he steadily takes me apart. 

He laughs. “I feel like you should call me Simon when I’m fucking you,” he says, panting. 

“You’re a moron, Simon,” I repeat obediently. 

Here's a little bit of tension from Snow Fox (next chapter also up in a day or two!)

Gareth comes into view, his pistol now pressed to the back of Malcolm Grimm’s head. “I tied up the Lieutenant, Sir. Shall I give the rest of these blackguards the same treatment?”

Forgive me, Baz.

“As you please,” I tell Gareth, keeping my tone light. “And no need to be gentle.”

From my CORB, The Heart in The Well, Baz is in a spot of trouble.

A sharp pain in my skull, and I found myself facing a hobgoblin. He was holding me up by my hair. Hobgoblins are related to goblins, but their skin is more greenish-grey than green, and they’re far uglier. But they eat people, just like their prettier cousins. I wondered if I was about to be their next meal. 

I hoped they’d choke on me.

From what I am currently calling "Simon the TikTok Dancer" (which will absolutely not be its final name), try to guess who Simon's teacher is 😉

At least Snow’s obvious progress makes what I have to tell him tonight easier. I’ve been dreading it all day. San Diego State University starts up again on Monday, and so our dance season is over. I have to say good-bye to Snow, at least for the school year. 

I indulge myself in watching him dance, not eager to bring down the mood already. 

I can see spots where his control is rough, and areas where he needs more precision, but truly, he’s already beautiful to watch.

And finally, a little Simon and Baz bonding from Stars, Flowers, and Children:

Simon is bubbling over with excitement, and I can’t help being infected with his enthusiasm. The moment we reach the pond, he spins to face me with a wild grin and says, “We’ve found Blackbeard’s lagoon, Baz! His buried treasure must be nearby!” 

I stare at him. What on Earth is he on about?

Simon’s smile fades a little. When he speaks again, it’s in a softer, more coaxing tone. “Come on Baz. Haven’t you ever played a game of make believe?”

Is that what this is?  “I didn’t grow up around many other children,” I admit, stiffly. 

Simon’s expression softens into something that looks very much like pity. It’s intolerable. 

I'm actually posting well before midnight for once, so I'm going to tag generously. Welcome and join me if you'd like, friends!

@angelsfalling16, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @captain-aralias, @cosmicalart, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @gekkoinapeartree, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @j-nipper-95, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @sillyunicorn

[roxannepolice]

16,1,13 simm mas ?

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

First off, he's an emoji freak. He canonically does 😀and 😠 emojis in UK cabinet. He probably pioneered emoji poetry. He uses all of them all the time. And his unronic fave is 😈. He also obviously keeps spamming Ten with 🍆s and 🍑s

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

Not sure if least favourite ship is the best name here, but I do get a bit ruffled by the selfcest thing with Missy? Like, not so much not enjoying it, Simm and Gomez have wonderful chemistry, and I couldn't care less about the ethical iffiness, but it's more the case that once you dig beneath the campy fun, it's glaring that the point being made is Saxon being a detestable narcissistic devil on Missy's shoulder to be put down in favour of pure, compassionate, good love of the Doctor. I see what's been done there, it was done well, I don't like it.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

K, I left that for the last, because the answer may get longish, and will probably be more of a character analysis than a “why I like this guy” thing. The point is, I was obsessed with hero and shadow, two sides of the same coin, equals who understand each other like no one else yet stand on opposite sides, marriage of heaven and hell dynamic long before I ran into thoschei. Like, looong. So when I watched Terror of the Autons for the first time, it was a matter of Three’s and Delgado’s dynamic falling into a slot that was already waiting for them, and I loved it immediately! I’ll add that I’m fairly sure BBC knew exactly what archetype they are going for, because they were toying with it throughout season 6, and made an excellent choice of casting Delgado (who was real life friends with Pertwee!) when they finally decided to go for it fully. And while I adore all of classic who versions of thoschei, I still think the writing that happened with Simm and tensimm is just absolute peak (I sometimes get the impression I’m very much in the minority here, most tensimm praise I see comes from people for whom they were the first taste, please let me know if that’s not the case)! Like a lot of RTD’s decisions for the revival, I feel he really scratched down to the bottom of the dynamic and characters and retold it in a new way. To start, there’s the perfect timing for reintroduction of the Master: what if, after all the moping over the Doctor being the last of the Time Lords, and then losing Rose, it turned out there was in fact another Time Lord who survived, and it was the exact one that’s both worst for the universe, and guiltily best for the Doctor? Honestly, just this bit is too delicious! Then there’s all the little design choices done with the Master. Casting John Simm, apart from the basic level of his acting skills, was just excellent: there’s all the fun you can have with his physical similarity to Tony Blair, the way his features are somehow both sharp and soft, the way between brown hair and eyes he and Tennant might just pass for siblings, thus visually going for the “evil twin” vibe, his mesmerizingly pleasant voice… I think it’s really telling that they thought long and hard on whether or not to give the Master the signature beard, and finally decided not to: again, just showing the focus was not on the superficial nostalgic recollections, only actually thinking “what would the Master make themselves look like if they were an early 21st century politician?” and deciding they’d go for a more fresh-faced explicitly young looking attractive man people would enjoy seeing on the news (sth sth postpolitics). Then there are all the little ways in which Saxon is the shadow to Ten specifically: his violence towards women being the flip side to the explicitly romantic relationships the Doctor’s had in the revival (I think RTD explicitly said “and he’s even got a blonde!”), his torture of Jack being the extreme of Ten’s gut disgust, his grotesque survival as an electroskeleton being the parody of Ten’s “I don’t want to go”… I sometimes say that tensimm is a symphony, and this is what I mean: it’s a the recurring melodies, and the counterpoints!

Generally, again, I’m not sure if this is what “what do you like about a character” means, but I just think Simm!Master was done with just the perfect balance of introspection without navel gazing, tragedy without angst, message without moralising, depth without turning to the audience to explain what the depth is… I’ve noticed John Simm keeps celebrating DW day on IG with Metallica’s Master of Puppets, which is just. Yeah, if that was the mindset with which he was approaching the character, then it was the perfect choice. Are the lyrics much more than very well spoken “I am very evil”? No. But the music. The music, the guitar solo conveying longing and uncertainty, and sorrow, and determination in a way language just can’t.

TLDR: the archetype work done with Simm!Master is something I have been waiting for since I was a teenager, and the wait was soooo worth it!

[circuses-and-childhoodtrauma]

So, guess who finally sucked it up and watch the final two (three? The two parter was a whole thing) episodes of danger force and…yep. It’s currently 5am so I’ll probably have more thoughts to post on the whole plot and what it means for character progression and endings in my mind once I’ve actually processed and thought about it. This may include what you’d consider hot takes on characters but just know it’s from a place of love and I wouldn’t want them to change (unless, of course, I’m talking about things I wished went differently) because that’s the best part of the show. Long post ahead and Spoilers for that btw

I will say I procrastinated the hell out of it after hearing a spoiler that Drex has an anticlimactic death, a spoiler which turned out to only be half the truth. I can’t remember where I saw it, but I will say thank you to whoever unknowingly spoiled it because y’all should’ve seen the look on my face when that motherfucker came back from his unimpressive dusty death. Truly, pure joy. The finale itself was weirdly underwhelming and I guess on brand for the show but I thought maybe they’d put more heart into it; you can really tell the difference of investment put into danger force versus the finale of Henry danger which was, despite Henry and rays final words being a joke, far more touching than the awkward, we know it’s abrupt ending that we got for DF. It feels a little odd as a Henry danger fan since it’s first season to see it end in such a way that leaves me with. Nothing really emotionally.

I’ll start with my thoughts on Ray’s character. Keep in mind it’s been a good few months since I’ve seen any episodes besides these last few (“Ray Forgives” and “The Battle for Swellview”) so forgive me if I’m rusty on some things I’m due for a full rewatch and so point out any contradiction or disagreements you may have because his character is one of my favorites to discuss due to the extremely polarized view fans have on him. I will say this ending truly showcases the final decline of Ray’s character as the show accepts him for what he truly is (see one of his final lines in the last episode as the DF kids try to process his departure “classic me”). Ray, I never had high hopes for you and I truly enjoy watching such a despicable person be our main mentor of the show and without you I would definitely be down a few class essays. I wish we could’ve touched on Ray’s inner workings and childhood as well as how his relationship with Henry is involved in any of this? The first part of that sentence I’m fine without simply because part of Ray’s charm is being a pretty vain character that gathers most of his motivations through that vanity and pursuit of his own goals, but the latter half? I really feel like the show is pretty lackluster for that loose end of Henry’s involvement which I now doubt we will see in the movie. More on that later.

As for Ray, I think I’ve mentioned in the past that his behavior over the course of the later seasons on HD as well as the first two seasons of DF (which is all that was out at the time) could really only lead to three options for his character. Either 1. he has to become so bad that he is actively a villain in the show (I say villain not antagonist because Ray has already been the antagonist of a few episodes), 2. He fully turns over a new leaf and actively works back to the strong figure he was in Season One of HD (too little time for that, get him a therapist), or 3. He spirals into a character so objectively and morally grey that he just leaves. I honestly figured they’d go for something more of 2 (or at the very least give us some growth and then lead into the third; which, no. The MILES system plot line does not count and I’ll explain why), but it seems the show went right for the third option. His character in the ending was just so shallow and lacking empathy that I was actually shocked. And sure, the show tried to play it off by saying “oh well he saw the kids prove themselves in the big fight”, when Ray had very clearly already announced his retirement before this happened?

The whole ending with Credenza felt very “Love Muffin”-esque in the way that you only see one aspect of Ray’s character (which makes sense in Love Muffin because he only had one portion of his character thanks to the muffin) but it was certainly a…decision…for the final ending of not just danger force but the full run of the Henry danger force series as a whole being considering there was no pause between the finale of HD and the premiere of DF. There’s just so much more to his character that could’ve been used there, and it contradicts a lot of things he’s stood for even as late as the second season of DF. Even if you follow his decline of character, there are still other notable qualities that would be far better suited for a goodbye like that. Ray is known for his childishness and his immature attachment style, I don’t think I need to show proof or references if you’ve seen the show but I will if need be. Ray is also shown with outbursts of anger and things like that which would have been a bit of a dud considering he did that in the HD finale and we don’t want a redo because this is something different. I really think the show could’ve done something better than just…calm acceptance? I could even call it delusion but it just wasn’t enough for a final goodbye. Ray’s immaturity, his anxious need for his employees to love him, his relationship with Bose? I can’t really think of a worse way to end things aside from Ray leaving offscreen like they couldn’t pay Cooper his final check.

It seems Ray simply doesn’t want to be a mentor anymore. Like other things, he grew bored of it? He found something better? One can only guess. But it feels almost as though the show is painting a picture that Ray was just doing the whole mentoring sidekicks thing while he looked for a hot date. Which, if so, was his whole goal from the beginning? Because Ray spent all 8 seasons of show trying his luck with various women and he was quick to jump in their arms at any moment to leave his superhero life behind. But then again, he was quick to take any opportunity to leave his job. It’s not a good characterization of him to say that he was just “looking for love” the whole time and once he found it, he was done with the superhero schtick. It disregards his whole obsession with the city of Swellview loving him. It disregards his childish idealization of super heroism (buying capes, creating other super identities) , something that persisted even after he’d worked the job for decades. You could say he “grew up”? But then why the “classic me” line at the end and why have we seen no other growth in any areas? I have my own view and characterization of Ray that was not changed by the finale, so I am ignoring a large portion of it, something you’ll see as a trend with the other characters. But, this is just food for thought.

And obviously, since he’s truly the highlight of the show in my eyes and the light of my life who brightens my face and day every time he comes on screen, I was very happy to see Drex make his presence in the finale. Of course I knew about him being Buddy Fudgers real dad (see the timeline I made for it because the initial reveal in the trailers and clips had me absolutely reeling trying to keep my own interpretations of the show at least somewhat in line with whatever canon threw at me). The simple fact of him *being* buddy fudgers biological father is the only good and useful thing to come of it in my opinion. The actual details…Credenza being Drex’s ex-wife?? Drex apparently being an active part of Buddy’s life for an undisclosed amount of time before leaving and then apparently finding the time to come back into Buddy’s life and having SHARED CUSTODY for an also UNDISCLOSED amount of time?? The retcons in this specific plot line and Drex’s plot as a whole make my head hurt. I’m not even going to touch on the marriage thing until I’m good and ready, but, let’s just say I have ideas for that. As for everything else? Scrap it, honestly. The show itself pokes fun at the paradox of Drex’s character (always losing for…some reason…as he puts it) and I am happy to keep my own Drex and Ray and hell even Buddy Fudgers dolls away from the canon of it all and leave it there.

I liked that the show didn’t try to put on an elaborate backstory as to why Drex and Ray really hate each other (because, hey, whaddya know, we already got that in Drex’s DEBUT episode in 2016, but it’s not like the writers are aware of that…) and they just left it at “I don’t know why we’re mad” as well as leaving any backstories of their friendship in one little photograph. Don’t bother with the details, we know it’ll make our brains hurt anyway. Even though it’s a bit of a copout, I wouldn’t have wanted to see one of the only stable and serious relationships in the show be reduced to a joke like “oh Drex are my last poptart 15 odd years ago and we’ve been enemies ever since”. A good part of Drex and Ray’s rivalry that still held up even onto season 3 of DF was because so much of it was left in the dark, we can only speculate. They always have just enough motive and reasoning for you to be like “sure, that makes sense” (In Hour of Power when Ray explains that Drex’s violent tendencies led to them just “having it out” provides a father-son Batman type feud between them as Drex’s rage is obviously not dealt with in a proper way, as well as in the finale of Henry Danger on the blimp where Drex’s thought-to-be final words to Henry are “I was always the better sidekick” implying a clear jealousy at Ray’s favor towards Henry). It kept things neat and clean and dark enough for Drex to be a good bad guy. And he makes a pretty good show of being a good guy in his fifteen seconds of fame (which btw had me beaming and shaking my screen at his happy saunter ahh I just love him so much I can’t)

And, of course, I must discuss, my Roman Empire, my magnum opus, Ray and Drex’s relationship. Or rather their father and son. relationship. Let me preface by saying of course you may interpret Ray and Drex’s relationship however you want (father-son, brothers, I think some people ship them as lovers as well) and by extension Henry and Ray’s. However, if you’ve caught even one glimpse of this account you’d likely see that I consider them to be scorned father and son. Same goes for Henry, I know some people think of him and Ray like brothers and that’s fine, but in my mind they will always have a pseudo father son relationship. Now, I’ve talked about all three of them and their relationships with each other a lot on my account, so I won’t waste space reiterating it. I do want to talk about the show’s portrayal of Drex and Ray’s latest moments together. Now, right from the getgo Drex is very much coded as a scorned son (or ex lover if you listen to Hour of Power’s euphemisms which is so gross not for Drex but for the implications the show put on Henry). He calls Ray “old man” and “pops” and even says something similar to dad if you’re desperate like me “finally got the outfit to match your dad bod”(excuse my paraphrasing on that last one it’s 6am and I don’t want to go look for the exact quote). But by the latest episode Ray calls him brother? I preferred the ambiguity; it’s not the biggest issue in the world but it feels like another part of Drex that they were trying to retcon. I have much bigger plans for him though, always.

There seemed to be a lot of copout “for some reason”s in the last few plots of the season but honestly, I don’t want to compare the two finales because they’re separate things and also one continuation of each other, and also I don’t care for the discourse between which is better. I simply look at this finale for a three season show that took the time to invest us in its characters and I just feel disappointed. I didn’t have high hopes for the ending given what they were working with.

Some other thoughts that didn’t make it into my totally “neat” paragraphs:

Ray getting decapitated was the total best move for showing just how unhinged and detached Henry danger force is from the rest of Nickelodeon in terms of censoring and morals, and I absolutely loved it.

Buddy turning into Drex, only to turn back into himself but bigger a few minutes later was…a choice. Although I did find it funny that the show pointed out his return back to Buddy-likeness.

I’m not sure where any of this fits into the movie but considering it didn’t begin work until after season three was done, it might have some impact. I would love to see Henry’s reaction to all of this.

I’m not sure why they felt the need to hammer home Bose’s dad being gone? It felt like a bad punchline the third or fourth time around and I was very confused and annoyed when they mentioned it 3+ times per episode despite it not being a prominent thing in any prior seasons. Felt like maybe it was supposed to be lead up for a conclusion that didn’t happen, so it was. Odd.

I felt like Chapa really got her spotlight in those final episodes which is cool but we also didn’t really see anything come of it, especially when Mika was the unofficial leader of the group, it seemed like Chapa was stepping up to take that place with her initiative. I’ve always felt like Chapa would be the one hero to stay in Swellview after CM if they took the route of only one hero taking over. But then again, nothing came of it.

Mike’s visions also got pushed to the back which, they kind of always have been, although it was always an opening to introduce new powers for the others, nothing came of that either.

As for Mika, no notes really. Great job. Although it seemed like there was supposed to be a romance between her and Bose that just never came to fruition either for time or other changes, which left us with something very similar to the Henry and Charlotte run. Bose and Mika seemed to have more intentional moments so I had a little more hope for them considering they weren’t just a few circumstantial jokes and a rushed one-off episode like Charlotte and Henry. Would’ve like to see something happen there simply because of the clear intent for something to happen there, but, unfortunately it didn’t happen.

Credenza I haven’t got much to say about, except the whole cult thing being ingrained into her by her ancestors seems like a cool aspect to her character that might lend to some neat little details in other stories. Buddy was cool, I think his character was fine as well although I never understand why they love to do this trope where these superheroes with SUPER SECRET IDENTITIES apparently “can’t ever keep any secrets at all” but it’s a gag at the end of the day and Mika suffers from the same trope at times.

That’s all my thoughts for now, I know it’s a lot, and I’ll probably have more once I’ve had time to fully flesh things out in my mind. I would love to use this for a chance to write new stuff, but unfortunately my laptop melted, so that’s that. Feel free to discuss your thoughts on any of this! Thanks for reading if you got this far I know it’s jumbled