#and to be reached out during my off hours doesn’t feel like a good sign

[astrifurious]

we’re postponing the cookies again & my AD is bumming me out / irking me after hours so. back to having yet another lackluster week

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 22 - Forced Orgasm

pairing: dom!Natasha x sub!Reader

summary: Natasha forces you to spill your secrets, and your cum.

content warnings: lowkey kidnapping, interrogation, handjob, reader has a penis

word count: 1.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“God, you look pathetic.” 

Rolling your eyes at the words, you glare at Natasha as she circles you. You would speak, but the well-trained spy had gagged you hours ago. Apparently, she’d grown tired of your ‘smart mouth’, so here you were. 

When you’d signed up to work for your boss, you’d never expected to be interrogated by the Black Widow. Evidently, your boss had been running some super illegal underground operation (you truly had no idea what was going on), and you’d just so happened to be in the office when Natasha had broken in to steal some files. 

She also stole you, forcing you into her car after tying your hands up in the name of gaining more information directly from the company’s employees. You wondered if you could sue the Avengers for kidnapping. 

You wouldn’t say you were particularly… unhappy with how the day was going. After all, you’re on your knees with a gag stuck in your mouth, your clothes having been ripped off by the hottest woman you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d gotten hard during the car ride and it still hadn’t gone down, not even after Natasha had secured a spreader bar between your thighs to keep your legs apart and restrained your hands to the wall behind you. 

Dark green eyes lock with yours as Natasha slowly bends down and crutches in front of you. Your chest is heaving slightly, and you can feel yourself twitch as she raises a single eyebrow. 

“What were you doing at work on a Saturday?” Natasha asks, her eyes glancing down at the way your cock jumps to the sound of her raspy voice. 

“Mmmpphh,” you say, your shoulders sagging slightly at the way her smirk widens. You feel so helpless… fuck, your cock throbbed again at that thought. 

Natasha smiles wider, her hands slowly coming up to caress your thighs, her sharp nails digging into your skin. You look down and watch with her as your cock throbs and twitches as she leaves angry red lines on your skin. You can see the swollen, red tip leaking precum as it jerks, and you resist the urge to thrust your hips forward. 

“You like this, don’t you?” she mutters, her smile wide as you nod. A pathetic whimper escapes you, the sound high-pitched as her hands slowly move from your thighs and toward your hips. 

“Will you answer my questions?”

You almost nod, but then your brain starts working. If you answer her questions, she’ll probably just leave you, unsatisfied and rock hard, as soon as she gets what she wants. 

Shaking your head no, you glare at her defiantly. Her brows furrow, those green eyes narrowing dangerously. Her fingers dig into your hips, and you let out a faint whimper at the pain, your hips rutting forward slightly. 

“Fine, let’s see if you can handle a bit of persuasion,” she growls, her hand finally wrapping around your length. 

God, it feels so fucking good. She’s moving her hand slowly, her other reaching for a bottle of oil. 

Wait. Oil?

Natasha flips the lid open, drizzling the warm body oil directly on top of your cock before pumping her hand to evenly distribute it. You let out a moan, your eyes bulging at the sensation. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her eyes watching your reactions. You nod eagerly, wanting to thrust your hips, the spreader bar stopping much movement. Her hand moves faster, her grip tightening when she reaches the head of your cock, squeezing it. 

The pressure builds within you, and you’re gasping into the gag as you let out a series of moans. Natasha’s hand doesn’t stop, her fingers wrapped firmly around you as she pushes you towards the brink. 

“Wanna talk now?” she asks, her other hand coming up to tangle with your hair. She wrenches your head up, exposing your neck and forcing eye contact. You shake your head, your breaths shuddering as your chest heaves. 

You’ve never felt this much pleasure before, your cock being expertly handled while you’re unable to do anything about it. After this, you doubt you’ll ever be able to feel true pleasure unless you’re bound and helpless. You can quite literally feel the kink planting itself inside of you, and you let out a pathetic little whimper when her hand moves faster. 

Natasha jerks her thumb over the head of your cock, the body oil and your precum mixing together as you moan and hold back a sob. You’re so fucking sensitive. 

“You don’t wanna cooperate? Fine,” Natasha spits, her hand moving even faster as she squeezes hard. You nearly cum right then and there, but her other hand reaches down and grabs your ball, holding them tightly in her hand and preventing you from orgasming. “Let's see if I can break your will.”

You shake your head, feeling your muscles clench desperately. You hold back your orgasm, not wanting the fun to end. Your eyes water slightly, the pleasure overwhelming as her hand pumps your cock faster. 

“You’re going to cum whether you want to or not,” Natasha growls, her hand moving faster. You groan, and she bites into your neck before murmuring, “Don’t hold back.”

Her fingers release your balls, and they tighten up immediately. You can feel the waves of pleasure becoming all-consuming, the need to cum taking over your brain. Her hand squeezes your cock as she pumps, pleasure emanating from your cock as you feel your orgasm take over. 

Her thumb swipes over the head of your cock, and you explode, spurts of cum covering her hand and part of her thighs. You throw your head back as much as your restraints will allow, your muscles flexing as you moan. The pleasure is all-consuming, her hand working you through your orgasm as you groan and shudder, your arms painfully pulling at your restraints as you gasp. 

Your cock starts to go limp, her fingers squeezing out the last bits of cum as you shudder. She continues to slowly jerk your cock, her movement lazy as she watches you. 

“Will you tell me what you know?”

You nod, your eyes glazed as your body trembles and protests against more pleasure. The traitorous cock between your legs twitches again, already hardening under her touch. 

Natasha rips your gag off, her eyes lighting up as she takes in your tired form. She’s finally broken you down, and she can’t wait for you to spill all of your secrets. Her fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to look at her as you finally speak. 

You smile. 

“I’m just the intern.”

Art by me: do not repost

[silkscream]

our boredom's bone-deep

ੈ✩ aki hayakawa x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, drunk sex, angst, alcohol, smoking, hurt/comfort, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of s*icidal ideation

ੈ✩ wc: 3.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: theyre both so repressed. also sorry about the tswift reference guilty as sin is just on repeat this week

“Yo.”

Aki turns around to see you walking towards him. You join him on the balcony, reaching over to steal his cigarette back from the breast pocket of his windbreaker. 

He looked good in civilian clothes. You didn’t see him like this often – out of his dress shirt and tie with his hair down. Dressed casually like he was a normal boy and not a hunter who signed his soul over.

“You can ask first, you know,” Aki grumbles, watching as you light up the cigarette in your mouth. 

“You were going to say yes, anyway.”

He rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s true. He’d taken you to his apartment because it was closer to the location of the mission, offering aid to the wounds you’d gotten in the face of a devil. He didn’t have to. You could still walk and you certainly weren’t dying, but he felt the need to keep you close, anyway.

You chuckle when you see the irritated look on his face.

“Don’t pout.”

The cigarette in his mouth is burned down to the nub. You take it out, grazing the cherried end against the ceramic eightball ashtray you’d gotten him for Christmas the year before. The paint was chipping from how often he used it, speckles of white against the black paint. 

You take another cig out from the pack before placing it back into his pocket, holding the stick between your fingers up to his mouth and lighting it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“You’re very welcome,” you grin.

You stay like that for a few minutes. Smoking and silent, staring at the sky post-golden hour, when everything is blanketed in cobalt blue bleeding into a light orange.

“How are your cuts?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckle. “Why do you worry so much? I’ve been around longer than you have, you know.”

Aki merely shrugs. He doesn’t look at you. Holds in his emotions like a geyser begging to stay dormant. 

“I just do,” he says plainly.

“How sweet,” you scoff, flicking your cigarette off the railing. “Thought you liked me the least, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, irritated. “You’re the one who trained me. Obviously, I don’t hate you.”

You merely chuckle, discarding your blazer. Your uniform shirt is still slightly bloodied.

“What, you think I don’t like you?” Aki asks, a brow raised.

“I’d be surprised if you liked anyone,” you shrug. “But I can tell you have a soft spot for Denji and Power, even if you refuse to admit it.”

He grunts, looking away from you as he finishes his second cigarette. The late spring breeze blows his hair into his face. He doesn’t realize how close he is to you until he adjusts his arms on the balcony, his elbow grazing yours. You don’t react, your chin tucked into your arms as you lean forward. He looks at you with curiosity.

You look at him finally and grin. 

“You look better with your hair down, you know.”

“I was thinking about cutting it,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t. It’s cute. I always thought you looked kind of like a girl. The hair is working.”

He rolls his eyes again, grimacing. He tries to hide his flush. 

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “You know how to make a guy feel special.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?” you grin. “You think I’m scary and mean? I’m very sweet to my lovers, you know.”

He could cringe. That wasn’t what he meant. He shivers at the word “lover” like it’s taboo, knowing very well that images of you are flooding his brain against his will. Your proximity makes it worse, how even despite both of you getting roughed up during your mission, you still smelled sweet to him. 

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you really think I’m so cruel?” you challenge him. He’s not going to take the bait. He won’t. 

“I’d assume you were a sadist.”

“You think I’m a sadist?” you laugh. 

“Probably,” Aki grumbles. He fidgets. 

He doesn’t want to take out another cigarette, but he’s convinced that it’s the only thing that would help him tolerate your presence right now. He’d felt unusual since he took you back to this apartment. His nose wrinkles at the memory of your body hours prior, your side saturated in blood. His rabbit heart thumping out of his chest at the thought you’d die in his arms — and yet here you are, next to him, teasing like you always do.

“Why?”

“Because you love pushing me to my limits,” he mutters. 

“Oh, come on,” you chuckle. “It’s not like I treat you like a toy. I’m not Makima.”

“What does Makima have to do with this—”

“Because you listen to everything she says. It’s like all of you fucking worship her.”

Your voice sounds bitter, but Aki doesn’t want to pry about it. For some reason, something in his chest riles him, makes his heartbeat faster at the prospect that you might be jealous of his devotion to Miss Makima. You’d always clashed in your beliefs but was never particularly candid about it – you were like him. You wanted to kill devils for the sake of avenging your family, but you also seemed apathetic about your life. With no family or a promising future, you often didn’t care if you died. It was the most frustrating thing about you.

Aki huffs. “You hate following rules yet you’re still controlling. It’s hypocritical.”

“I am not controlling.”

“You are. And you love to torment me because I’m the only one willing to put up with your shit,” he says, laughing humorlessly. You don’t know that he would do anything you told him, that he didn’t give a fuck about Makima. It had always been you, at the forefront of both his blissful dreams and worst nightmares.

“I like your resilience,” you say quietly.

“Resilience?”

You nod slowly. “You’re the strongest person I know, Aki.”

He hates how much dopamine fills his brain when you say this. The smallest praises from you would have him hung up, lately. Even a smile was motivating, though he’d rather die than admit that to anyone. He was never one to pine or yearn, keeping to himself since he was young. No girl could pry anything out of him that wasn’t surface-level until you. 

He hated it. It felt like a weakness.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“If I’m actually that strong, I probably would’ve broken down your walls by now.”

It could be a teasing statement, but he tucks his expression away into the fabric of his jacket, looking away from you. You’re so close to him, close enough to touch, but he still holds himself back.

“You should save your efforts,” you mumble. 

Aki looks at you with narrowed eyes and tries to scan your face for anything telling, but you’re as stoic as him. He’d always found it frustrating, how he could never get anything out of you. He didn’t know how to be selfish. He was apprehensive about provoking you despite how much he wanted to.

“Why?”

You finally look him in the eye. Your features are painted with stubborn contempt as you glare at him.

“Because I’m not worth it.”

Your words strike him through the heart. You weren’t one to be particularly insecure – he’d known this since he met you. But your words now are trying to downplay how much he feels for you, and he won’t have it. 

Aki moves close enough to you to smell your breath.

“You don’t get to decide whether or not I waste my time on you,” he protests.

You stare at him. You’re surprised he wants to know you at all. You’ve barely processed the meaning behind his words, the possibility of him wanting you beyond mission support and devil-hunting guidance. Both of you had walls up and that was fine. You never had any intention of breaking any of his, regardless of how often he showed up in your dreams. No matter how often you’d find yourself glancing at him, drinking up his features until you had snapped yourself out of it.

“You can’t want things as a devil hunter,” you say blankly, staring at the dark sky. “There’s no use. Desire is the root of all suffering and shit, right? Like in Buddhism?”

Aki feels his face warm up, his frown deepening as you say this without even looking at him.

“I’ll suffer for you if I want to,” he says firmly.

“Always a masochist,” you whisper, sighing. You smile weakly at him.

“Maybe I am a masochist.”

“I know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a devil hunter, huh?”

“Why are you a devil hunter?” he raises a brow. 

“Because it’s better than killing myself. If I die because of this job, at least I died being useful, you know?”

He swallows thickly at the thought of your death. He’d imagined it a thousand times since he met you and realized how sardonic you were, how little you cared about your own life. You were a mirror of him. 

“Don’t say shit like that,” he says, his tone cold. 

“It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you die.”

You stare at him, the expression on your face unreadable. Your eyes look dim.

“Thanks,” you mutter. You slide the glass door open and go back inside. Aki feels his lungs ache.

Eventually, he follows you in and sees you on the couch, staring blankly at the television with a bottle of whiskey in your hand. He rolls his eyes. You were just as bad as Kishibe these days. 

He sits down next to you without a word, stealing the bottle to take a gulp, flinching. You watch with amusement. He grimaces at you.

“What?” he asks, irritated.

“You can do better than that.”

He wants to wipe the smirk off your face. Maybe with his mouth. He blinks at you a little too fast, then distracts himself with another gulp. A longer one that makes his throat burn, his head dizzy. You laugh.

“I fucking hate you,” he grumbles.

“I didn’t force you to do it,” you scoff. 

No, you didn’t. But it was always easy for Aki to do things for you. He often wanted to, didn’t ask any questions. You always wondered why.

“Would you roll around like a dog if I asked you to?” you grin.

“Fuck off.”

You lay down, perching your legs over his lap. He sets his hands on your thigh like it’s second nature to him. You scan his features. His midnight eyes glisten with the blue of the television reflecting in his irises, his mouth downturned into a default pout.

“You should keep your hair down more often.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he’d forgotten you were there.

“Pretty boy,” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.” He tries to keep his expression level. His face is hot from the whiskey, not you, he tells himself.

You shift your position and your foot grazes his crotch. It makes his breath hitch, the creature of want inside him gnawing at his heart. He thinks maybe you’re teasing him, so he takes your foot and rubs it. You raise a brow.

You’re sitting up now, grunting as you do. He pretends that you aren’t staring at him.

“Does it still hurt?” he murmurs.

“Nah. I’m good.”

There’s contempt on his face when he looks at you, his eyes tracing your collarbone just for a second before gazing at the blood on your shirt. Speckled shapes turning from red to brown.

“Let me see.”

“Aki. I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” he mumbles.

You sigh, unbuttoning your shirt until you’re only in a sports bra. He frowns at your wound, how the gauze is dark and nearly falling off. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it needed to be changed?”

“It’s fine—”

“No,” he scolds. “Stay still.”

He pins you down by your hips. Somehow, he’s in between your legs, his face frowning in concentration as he looks at your skin. He gets up to grab the first aid kit.

You take another sip of whiskey.

It numbs the pain when he fixes you up again. His fingers are delicate when they handle you — you can’t help but stare at the way they move when he blots your cut. A small press to the center and you feel it sting, making you hiss. He grips you by the waist to disarm you. 

Stay still.

“There,” he breathes, kneeling on the floor in front of you. “It’s more secure now.”

He looks at your stomach, watching the rise and fall of your skin as you breathe. You reach out and pat his head like he’s a pet.

Aki was a cute drunk. Still stoic, but malleable in your hands. There are moments during group outings when he opens up a little, places his head on your shoulder. Looks at you for a bit longer than he normally allows himself to. 

He presses his cheek to your thigh and sighs as you skim the nape of his neck with your fingers. You stroke his jaw. It’s the closest he’s ever been to you. 

Your thumb hooks on his mouth briefly and you feel his tongue on the pad of your fingertip. He looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. Glazed over in the dimness, dripped in syrup.

“You’re barely awake,” you breathe. “I should go.”

“No.” He grips your wrist when you pull your hand away, saliva from his mouth creating the string of fate. The sight made your heart sing. Disgusting. 

“Why?” you whisper.

He’s quiet. He could bite the bullet, let the heat of it soar straight through his chest so you can see all the gory bits of desire in him. The whiskey only exacerbated the feeling. He was usually good at keeping it down, despite clinging to you like an extra limb. You probably saw right through him. 

“Just stay,” he mutters. 

“Make me stay, then.”

He hides his face in your lap again. He feels like such a boy. When you run your fingers through his hair again, he pulls away and grabs both of your wrists, pulling you toward him until you fall onto his lap, his body on the floor. He grips your hips and stares at you from below.

“What are you doing? You wanna wrestle?” you joke half-heartedly.

“No,” he slurs quietly. “You’re hurt.”

Aki sits up and leans on the back of his elbows. He looks at you like he’s eager prey, offering himself on a platter, but he won’t say it. It’s killing you.

“C’mon,” you grin. “I can take it.”

“Stop.”

You pin him to the ground. You’re playing. It’s just that and nothing else, isn’t it?

“Aki,” you say. Your face is so close to his. Your breath smells like tobacco and cinnamon, your neck like petrichor.

“I’m not letting you provoke me,” he groans. 

You roll your eyes. “Stop trying to take care of me.”

“But I want to,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. 

“Then I’ll take care of you. I’m your senpai, remember?”

His face is hot again, sweat sticking to his shoulder blades. Fuck, he needed to fix the fan since Power and Denji had broken it while wrestling. The memory reminds him of the position he’s in right now and a flush creeps up his neck.

“I–”

Your mouth interrupts him. It’s an experimental peck. Impulsive. It’s short, but Aki groans into it and touches his tongue with yours. You pull away with wide eyes.

There’s hunger in his gaze, something like desperation. You could work with this. You knew that you had Aki wrapped around your finger since he started at Public Safety, but you didn’t know he would be like this. 

He breathes deeply, dark lashes blinking at you from the mess of his bangs. His dick was infallibly hard since you’d straddled him. It was aching now underneath your cunt — there was no hiding it.

He narrows his eyes, trying to disguise how much he wants you.

“Thought you said desire is the root of all suffering.”

“I guess we’re both masochists, then,” you whisper.

He kisses you with more force this time, buries his mouth into your neck to exhale the scent of his shampoo in your hair. Drunk on you. He sucks a hickey into your flesh like it’s payback.

He groans when he feels your hands underneath his shirt, rubbing against the pale skin of his abdomen until he takes the liberty to pull the fabric off himself. Aki has always been pretty – like a girl, like you’d told him before. He was also remarkably boyish. The shy type. He’d seem to grow muscles over the past year, his lean figure always hidden by the uniform. 

“Stop staring at me like that,” he huffs.

“Get uglier, then,” you roll your eyes, pulling at the zipper of his jeans. 

He lets you handle him like a doll. 

“Thought you’d be rougher,” you whisper.

“You’ve… thought about this before?” he asks.

You blink at him, then look away.

“Once or twice.”

“I’m not gonna be rough with you,” he says, his voice lower than before. “Not when you got stabbed earlier today.”

“Told you I’m a masochist,” you chuckle dryly. You strip off your slacks, showing off your less-than-sexy cotton underwear. He grazes your core, the wet patch growing larger with your slick.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, mesmerized. He licks his lips, wanting to taste you, lust transparent on his face. It humiliated you, for some reason — you were always used to it rough and fast, your vision blurred while you took cock that you didn’t give a shit about. This was different. This was real.

You put your fingers in his mouth again, pinning him down. He moans when you spit on the head of his cock, palming him gently. Taming him.

You slide your panties off of your legs and do the same with his briefs. When you hover over him, your throat feels tight. He keeps looking at you like you created him. Like you were the world itself.

His tip catches on the slick of your cunt, circling your entrance. Your blood boils, every ventricle in your body sparking to life. You feel him buck his hips, desperate and rutting.

“Use me,” he groans, muffled from your fingers on his tongue.

You sink down on him and his eyes roll back. You remove your fingers from his mouth to toy with your clit, whimpering at the sensation of him filling you up. He was bigger than you expected.

Aki shudders from sensitivity. Alcohol usually numbs his senses, but he can feel all of you, how hot and tight you are. It’s driving him mad. He hiccups through moans, his throat raw. 

Your cunt pulses as you grind on him, trembling above him as you try to keep your hips from stuttering too much. Already, you were about to fall apart. 

“Fuck,” Aki mutters. 

Your hand grazes his face and jaw, and he leans into your palm to kiss it earnestly. Your face burns as you tangle your fingers in his raven hair. When he rises to kiss you, you pull his strands while your other hand holds him back by his shoulder. He groans and thrusts upward into you, holding your hips so that your thighs are flush against his.

Your pulse throbs against the cave of your chest. Aki is desperate to kiss you, to get his tongue in your mouth, so he uses your own trick on you – pulls you in with force and grabs a fistful of your hair. You moan into his mouth, tapering off into a whimper, and you feel him let out a breathy laugh in between kisses.

Aki lets himself be a little loud — no one else was home, and fucking you was cathartic. He squeezes the fat of your thigh, his lunacy suppressed into his tight fists. Entranced by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick. 

You whimper as your knees start to get rug burn, the skin as raw as the love bites on your neck. Your stomach stirs, ecstasy boiling in the pit. You could pretend it was love from the way he gripped you.

“You’re fucking tight,” he grunts.

“Do you like it?” you rasp. You almost sound like you’re begging.

He nods and holds your face, his other hand making an imprint on your waist. Aki was so much taller than you — his size didn’t register until now, the way he was forcing your chin up to look up into his eyes. 

He can barely speak, only letting out choked moans and heavy breaths. You look so vulnerable despite being on top of him. He could picture it now, your thighs shaking with arms outstretched to him in morning light. Bare-faced and illuminated, not a bruise on your body. Happy in another life.

“Fuck, Aki,” you moan.

“Again,” he breathes.

“What?”

“Say my name again. Like that.” Like you love me.

“A-Aki,” you whine, gasping for air. “Close.”

A rush of blood to the head. He almost wants to tell you he loves you, force you to say it back to him in between swapping spit. Even if it was just pretend.

You writhe as you cum. Heat-struck by the coil breaking in your stomach. It was like he was melting your insides. He feels your cunt twitch and spills into you with a groan, nose buried in your hair. 

He winces as he pulls out of you, his cum getting the carpet wet. He’ll have to clean it up later. He breathes heavily and looks anywhere but your face.

“Lie down with me,” you whisper.

So he does, face to face with you, his arm loose over your waist. He wants to kiss you, but he assumes you’ve had your fill. He wonders if you’ll ever toy with him like that again. He hates himself for how badly he wants it.

But then you look at him, your eyes searching his for meaning. Unspoken words. 

“You okay, baby?”

He’s shocked at the nickname, blushing like he didn’t just fuck you to the moon and back.

He nods, blinking rapidly when you stroke his jaw gently. Branding him with tenderness. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with you. He didn’t want to be a sycophant, but he still felt attached to you, and it would only get worse from here. Stuck on his heart like chewed gum.

“Angel boy,” you sigh, hazed. You’re still a little drunk. “Pretty.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a dog.”

“What are you, then?”

He says nothing. You smile. The warmth in his chest is immeasurable. It aches like a wound that never heals. He supposes that’s what you are for him. But what is he?

“Yours.”

[writingonleaves]

got lovestruck, went straight to my head (got lovesick all over my bed) - nico hischier

universe: nico hischier x clementine sandoval (the blue au)

warnings: swearing, mentions of stuff you'd typically see in the hospital (death, etc), author has never been to switzerland (but wants to!!), fluff! angst if you squint

title: "slut!" by taylor swift

word count: 23k (originally 27k but had to be cut down bc tumblr apparently has a limit of blocks per post??? lol)

author's note: long anticipated (official) part two to this little ditty. takes place pretty much right where the first part left off and goes until january 2025. i love clem. i love clem and nico. i love this whole world, and it loves all of you right back. thanks for all the love, truly. it means so much. here are some more slice of life moments that will probably rot your teeth because they're so sweet! enjoy and please let me know your thoughts!!

~*~*~

Devils fans love Nico Hischier, Clementine realizes, as she waits in a cafe across the back entrance of The Rock, looking outside as Nico takes the time to sign things and take pictures with the fans.

To some extent, after being in Jersey for a full season now, she knows how adored he is — the multitude of 13 jerseys during every game and how she has never heard a single bad thing said about him, whether that be as a person, captain or player. But right now, she’s smiling as he thanks the fans for their support when she knows he was devastated less than 48 hours prior. 

This team, their fans and this community love their captain. They’d go to the ends of the world for him, she’s convinced. 

She feels her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulls it out with a smile. 

Nico Hischier 

Meet me at my car in 5 mins? ❤️

She smiles, just liking the text before slinging her bag over her shoulders, grabbing her half finished coffee and going back to the counter to order a cappuccino for Nico. She thanks the barista when he’s done, grabs the cappuccino and goes back down to the parking garage. 

Nico’s leaning against his car on his phone, but puts it away when he sees her walking to him. She shuffles over quickly and gives him a quick kiss. She doesn’t think she’ll get used to that. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” The fondness tinged at the short greeting isn’t new, Clementine knows now, but it makes her smile all the same. “Thanks for the coffee. Sorry I took so long,” he says, taking his coffee and opening the passenger door. 

“You’re good,” she slides in and waits for him to get to the driver’s seat. “You doing alright?”

He starts the engine and looks over at her with a soft smile. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He reaches over to give her thigh a comforting squeeze after backing out. ‘I’m sure. I promise. Play some music.”

“Do you even like my music?”

“I listen to anything. You know that.”

She chuckles, plugging in her phone. “They love you.”

“Hm?”

“The fans. I was watching outside the windows of the cafe.”

He shrugs. “They’re always great. Have been good to me since I came into the league and have stuck by us.”

She looks at him thoughtfully. “They also have nothing but respect for their captain, who led them through the season extraordinarily well despite all the downs.” She leans her head on his arm for a few seconds. “I know it’s hard, but try not to blame yourself too much. You can’t and shouldn’t carry all that weight. The boys know that. The fans know that.”

He nods and looks over at her with a smile. “Gotten good at that throughout the years, hey? Comforting people after big losses.”

“Tell me about it.” She thinks back to when Quinn and Jack lost the gold medal match in 2019 at World Juniors and both times Luke’s dream of winning a national championship with Michigan fell short. And those are just the ones she can think of off the top of her head. “I’m serious though. It’ll come for you guys. I know it will.”

“Thanks, Schätzli.” Oh. That’s also a new development. The first time it slipped out, Nico had almost taken it back with wide, panicked eyes. But Clementine had promptly pulled him down to kiss her. 

The team all chipped in to rent out a rooftop bar in Tribeca tonight to celebrate their season, the multitude of birthdays that occurred during the last part of the season that they couldn’t really celebrate at the time, and to just hang out before people start dispersing for the off-season. Therefore, Clementine purposefully volunteered for the overnight shift the day before and took a four hour nap before she tagged along to locker cleanout. She hid out in the cafe while they all had to do their end-of-season duties.

But they have a few hours to kill before heading into Manhattan, so the new couple spend the afternoon at Liberty State Park, enjoying the rare instance since the night of their first kiss where they’ve both been free. Clementine’s packed a small cooler with some tiny sandwiches, fruit and small bottles of wine. Nico lays out a blanket and Clementine toes off her sandals. It’s beautiful outside, and after she’s done munching on the food, she finds herself laying her head in Nico’s lap as he plays with her hair, talking about everything and nothing. Occasionally he just leans down to place a kiss on her forehead or cheek and she feels her throat closing up everytime at the sweetness of the gesture. 

They have limited time before Nico heads back home to Switzerland. She’ll take all the moments she can get.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh oh,” she jokes. “Should I be nervous?”

“No, no, no. It’s just..maybe a bit of a weird question.”

“Nico. I deal with kids on a daily basis. And other residents who have no sense of boundaries. And Jack and Luke where all social cues are nonexistent. Almost nothing fazes me at this point.”

“Well, of course I’ve seen you around Jack and Luke so I know what your relationship is like with them. But how are you with Quinn?”

“Huh. Why do you ask?”

Nico twirls a piece of her hair around his finger. “They’ve mentioned a couple of times how I remind them of Quinn sometimes, which you know, I think is a compliment. I respect Quinn a lot as a player and he did a great job captaining that team this year. But, I don’t know. I’m just curious.” 

Clementine smiles easily. “Luke’s my baby and Jack’s like the most annoying little brother you could ask for, but yeah. Quinn is..he’s also like a little brother, but he’s also my best friend. I think Quinn and I are the most similar in terms of how we think. So I guess that leads to a sense of…understanding? Like, on a different level than with Luke and Jack. And if you think I’m protective of Jack and Luke, I’m probably even worse with Quinn. He’s just always so busy looking after the other two that he sometimes forgets he needs to look out for himself too.”

“Then who looks after you?”

“Hm?”

“If you’re busy looking after those three, who looks after you?”

She sits up as he lets her hair fall from his fingers. She plops a strawberry in his mouth. “I don’t need anyone to look after me.”

“Those three don’t need anyone to look after them.” He points out. 

“Lies. You think Luke and Jack are annoying now? They were ten times worse before. And you think Luca and Nina don’t still feel a responsibility to look after their little brother? I haven’t even met them and I think I know the answer.” She shrugs, hooking her chin on his shoulder. “I don’t mind, really. They also, in a way, look after me as well, especially as we’ve gotten older. But I don’t think I answered your question. I guess you’ll have to see Quinny and I together and see for yourself.”

He hums, kissing her forehead twice. “You gotta take some time to look after yourself too. You’re no use to them if you don’t.”

“I know. I think I’ve managed the balance well. And you’re partially right. I don’t need to look after them as much anymore, especially since now Quinny has a girlfriend who I still haven’t met and you look after Jack and Luke plenty.”

Nico snorts. “I’m sure you’ll get to meet Quinn’s girlfriend this summer.”

“If the fucker answered my calls, that would be a start,” she says. “Are you all packed to go yet?”

“Not at all.”

He literally leaves in two days. “God, you all really are the same breed. I bet I could pack all your shit in an hour. Maybe even less.”

He smirks. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. Pack your own stuff. You’re a grown man.”

He laughs, and they switch positions. Now his head is in her lap and she’s running her hand through his hair. She’s still learning things about Nico, but she’s pretty sure that he likes her playing with his hair more than she likes him playing with hers. He clears his throat. “And, um, I don’t need to pack yet. I’m staying in Jersey a bit longer.”

“Yeah? How much longer?”

“Like, June 7? So what is that..three weeks?”

She blinks. “Nico, I don’t-”

“This has nothing to do with you,” he says, before grimacing. “That’s not what I mean. It actually has a lot to do with you. But it was my choice. I’m in no rush to get back, in terms of training and all that. Plus, a bunch of the guys are staying for a bit too. And I want to spend time with you, because I do have…what did you say? ‘Impeccably shit timing.’”

“I just want to make it clear that you don’t have to stay just for me,” she assures softly. “I know you miss home and I understand the importance of an off season.”

He looks up at her earnestly, “Spending time with you is also important to me.”

Her heart soars as she traces his lips with her thumb. He catches her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Well, I’m not gonna complain about that.”

The rooftop bar that night is a fun time, even if she feels very much out of her tax bracket. She chats with pretty much everyone, much more comfortable than she was at the start of the season. People egg her on to share childhood stories of Jack and Luke, which she has plenty of. And even if they both groan and act embarrassed, she knows they love it. The drinks are plentiful and she likes seeing everyone let loose the way they can’t during the season. She’s sure the team is still disappointed from their season to some extent, so it’s nice to see them all smile and laugh and generally have a good time. 

At some point in the night, she’s sitting by herself for some space, admiring the skyline with a ginger ale in her hands, taking a break from the alcohol she’s consumed tonight. 

“Social butterfly finally tired out?”

She looks up to see Jack, cheeks flushed and hair adorably tousled, staring down at her. She scooches over to offer him a seat. “A bit. It just hit me that I’m running on four hours of sleep.”

He snorts, sitting down. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” He tucks himself into her side like he used to do as a kid, taking her arm and using it as a pillow. “We still on for dinner tomorrow? Just me, you and Lukey?”

“Of course. I gotta get my fix in before you all leave me to hang with all your friends.”

Jack shoves her lightly. “We’re literally staying in Jersey until the end of the month. Or the Northeast, at least.”

“Okay, and Trevor literally flies in in two days. And then you and Luke’s friends are gonna rotate in and out. I’ll be lucky if I get a second of quiet at the apartment.”

Jack laughs, but then a worried look crosses his face. “I told them that under no circumstance can they enter your room without your permission. I don’t want them being here to fuck up your schedule.”

She waves him off. “It’s fine, Jack. I promise. Besides, I’ll just hide out at Nico’s if I need. Did he tell you that he’s staying a bit longer?”

His smirks. “He did. Mom invited him to spend the long weekend with us up in New Hampshire.”

“He didn’t mention that.”

“Probably because I literally just told him an hour ago when Mom texted me. You know this means he’s gonna be meeting Maeve, right?”

She blinks. “Shit, yeah. A bit soon, no?”

To her surprise, instead of agreeing or making fun of her, Jack just shrugs. “I don’t think so. You and Nico are the real deal.”

Her mouth drops open a bit in shock. “Oh.” 

Jack just shoots her an award-winning grin. “And Maeve is gonna love him.”

That, Clementine thinks, is most definitely true,

As they drive home, she’s in the passenger seat with Luke and Jack in the back, quietly dozing off. Nico’s hand is on her thigh as she’s queuing songs up on her phone. Even after living in the city for almost a year now, she still finds herself in awe at the NYC skyline, especially on the rare chance she gets to see it from the angle of leaving the city in a car this late. Her attention is brought elsewhere when she feels a squeeze on her thigh. She looks at Nico and smiles. 

(It’s hard to not smile when she looks at Nico)

“You have fun?” He asks softly, careful not to disturb the brothers in the back. 

“Lots,” she responds. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course,” he says. “I think there would have been an uproar if you hadn’t come. Everyone loves having you around.”

“Jack told me you’re invited to Memorial Day weekend celebrations in New Hampshire.”

“Yeah. It was sweet of Ellen to invite me. It’ll be fun to experience a classic summer weekend out here.” He suddenly looks at her, worried. “That’s okay, right? I don’t wanna intrude.”

“What? Of course it’s fine. It’s gonna be a chill weekend with good food and a lot of sun. You know you’re gonna be meeting my mom, right?”

“Is that a problem? Moms usually like me. Ellen likes me, I think.”

Clementine rolls her eyes. “No, I just, as long as you know.”

Nico looks over at her. “Your mom’s clearly important to you and raised a beautiful woman. I’m excited to meet her.” She swallows roughly. Nico changes topics easily. “Have you figured out your plans for the summer? How much vacation time do you have?”

“Not much. Maybe, like, two weeks at most. I’m still trying to figure it out. The boys invited me to Michigan, which would be fun. I haven’t been back there for a bit. Some of my friends from med school are going to meet back up in California at some point.”

“Two very different options.”

“Yeah. I probably need to figure it out soon though so I can request the leave.”

“Have you thought about Switzerland?”

She’s looking out her window, so she doesn’t see the hesitant but honest look on his face. “Showing me your hometown already, Cap?” She jokes

“If you want.” She whips her head to look at him. Oh. He’s serious. He backtracks. “I-I get if you think it’s too soon, but you’ve mentioned that you wanna go back. And I could show you around. Or we could go to other places in Europe too. I-I feel bad that I’m about to leave when we haven’t gotten quality time together which I know is partially my fault-”

She pushes her chin into his arm, looking up at him as he briefly looks down at her before focusing back on the road. “You’d be okay with that? Me coming to your hometown?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“We just started dating officially..what, like a month ago? Not even?” She looks to the backseat to ensure that Jack and Luke are still asleep, or are at least faking it to give them some sort of privacy. They are. She turns back around. “I don’t…I just don’t want you to feel like you- I-you’re really important to me,” she admits with a swallow. “I don’t wanna mess it up by moving too fast.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” Nico takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “I’m not gonna push you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I would absolutely love to show you around where I grew up and spend more time together.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” he assures. “Take all the time you need.”

She leans to kiss his cheek. 

…..

“Switzerland?” Luke practically screeches. “To introduce you to his family?”

Clementine rolls her eyes, sliding him a glass of orange juice across the counter. Trevor giggles into his coffee and without looking, she smacks the back of his head. 

“Switzerland because it’s beautiful and to spend time with my boyfriend,” Clementine says pointedly. 

“Go frolic in Europe with your new boyfriend,” Trevor grins. “You deserve it. Jacky tells me you’re barely home.”

“I’m trying to become a doctor, Trev. I signed up for not having a life.”

“Exactly, which is an even better reason to go visit your hot boyfriend in Europe.” Jack and Luke give their old friend a weird look. Trevor just shrugs. “What? Your captain’s a good looking guy, and you’re delusional if you think differently.”

“I don’t care if Nico is the hottest person in the world. He’s kissing my sister. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Luke says with a wrinkled nose. 

Jack chuckles, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “Well, get used to it, Moose. And it’s kinda our fault. I mean, we’re the ones who wanted this all season. It’s fucking hilarious that they decided to start a relationship when they did though.” He comes up behind Clementine and pokes her side, rinsing his plate before putting it in the dishwasher. “Z’s right. You should go. Even if that means you wouldn’t be able to come to Michigan.”

“Aw, Clemmy’s missing the Michigan trip again?” Trevor whines. “Nevermind. Fuck your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t been to Michigan in three years so I don’t know what you’re whining about,” Clementine snorts. “And you can’t get rid of me that quickly. Especially because I, you know, live here and y’all are going to be around for who knows how long.” She taps Trevor’s phone on the counter to check the time. “Alright, I gotta head to the hospital. See you guys later.”

“Bye!”

“Love you.”

“See you tonight? What time will you be back?”

“11? Midnight the latest,” she grabs her pasta salad lunch from the fridge into her tote bag. “Have fun. Call if you need me. The usual.”

“Be safe,” Jack calls out. She clicks the door shut. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand. She laughs out loud. 

Quinny Hughes

Heard you’re going to Switzerland? 

She rolls her eyes. It’s nice to know the brothers’ group chat is still as active and rapid as ever.

Clementine Sandoval 

all three of you are actually the worst

and i’m older than all of you don’t be trying to parent me

Quinny Hughes

So you are going. 

At least get us some good chocolate then.

Clementine Sandoval

lol i miss you

did you ever figure out if you’re coming to nh for memorial day?

it’s literally in two days i hope you have an answer

Quinny Hughes

Yeah I am. Especially now that you aren’t coming to Michigan this summer. Jack and Luke get to see you all the time it’s my turn.

And I’ll get to interrogate your new boyfriend.

Clementine Sandoval

sigh 

are you at least bringing lauren

Quinny Hughes

Yup.

Clementine Sandoval 

fantastic

finally another fucking girl

Quinny Hughes

Lol. See you soon❤️

Clementine smiles before starting her car. 

…..

Two days later, Jack, Luke, Trevor, Nico and Clementine pile into Jack’s car to head up to the Hughes family’s lakehouse to spend the long weekend. She lets Luke have the passenger seat because it’s a five hour drive and he has the longest legs. Additionally, she finds great amusement in seeing Nico and Trevor interact and getting to sit in the middle of them and put her head on Nico’s shoulder and her legs over Trevor’s lap. Though, with Trevor’s constant yapping, Nico’s surprisingly unhinged stories, Jack’s loud laughter and Luke’s tendency to make a comment on everything, the drive goes by so damn slow that by the time they roll into the driveway, Clementine is practically shoving Trevor to get out of the car.

At the front door, Ellen’s laughing and Clementine rushes over to her second mother to give her a big hug. 

Ellen rocks her back and forth. “It’s so good to see you, my girl.”

“You literally saw her three weeks ago?” Jack says, coming up behind them.

“Hide your jealousy better, Jacky,” Clementine teases. “It’s always good to see you, Ellen.” Jim comes up behind his wife and she beams. “Hi Jimmy!”

He laughs, wrapping her in a fatherly hug. “Hi Sunshine. El made sangria for everyone, and it’s still cold.”

Clementine lights up. “Oh amazing. I’ll grab a glass after I get my stuff.” She turns around to see Nico coming up the stairs with both his and her bags in his hands. 

A knowing smile appears on Jim’s face. “Think that’s already covered.” She rushes to help him out but Nico just swats her away. Jim nods at Nico. “Good to see you again, Nico.”

“Good to see you too, Mr. Hughes,” he puts his bags down to shake Jim’s hand and hug Ellen, as Jack, Luke and Trevor clamber into the house. “Thank you both so much for having me.”

“Anytime, Nico!” Ellen beams. “And please, call us by our first names. You’re family, especially after recent developments.” 

Clementine rolls her eyes as Nico immediately becomes flustered. “Really? Mom’s not even here yet.”

“Oh can you blame me, Clementine? Now I don’t have to hear Jack and Luke whine about when their sister and captain are going to get together.” Ellen says. “But I’ll be cool for now. Why don’t you show Nico up to your room and drop all your stuff off? Your mom picked up Quinn and Lauren from Logan and should be here any minute. Boys!” She calls out and Jack, Luke and Trevor magically appear and Clementine rolls her eyes. “Take your stuff up to your rooms so no one trips over your things. Trevor and Jack, you’re sharing.”

Trevor turns to Jack with a kissy face and Jack grimaces. “You and me, Jacky boy! Just like old times.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Jack says dryly as Luke chuckles. Jack glares at his younger brother. “How come you get a solo room?”

“Because Quinn and Lauren are getting the other room.”

“And where is Maeve staying?”

“Probably in the basement so she doesn’t have to deal with all you guys.” Clementine retorts. 

Jack turns to his parents. “You’re letting Clee and Nico share a room? And Quinn and Lauren?”

“We’re adults, you know?” Clementine sighs, pinching her nose. “You guys are exhausting. Move out of my way so we can get through.” She hears Nico stifle a laugh as they reluctantly clear a pathway. “Somehow they’re even more annoying during off-season than during the season,” she says as they climb up the stairs.

“It’s fine,” Nico chuckles. “It’s nice. The chaos, I mean. Tells a lot about who you are.”

“Don’t associate me with those fools,” Clementine says with no heat as she pushes open the door to the room in this house that’s always been designated as hers. “Here we are.”

Nico puts the bags down and immediately scans some of the photos framed on the wall. He ‘aww’s and she turns around to find him staring at the one of her and the boys during her UCLA graduation. “You guys are such babies here.”

“A week before Jack got drafted,” Clementine recalls fondly. “The boys surprised me. I didn’t think they were gonna come because they had so much hockey stuff going on.”

“You went to all their drafts, right?” Nico says. Clementine nods. “So of course they were there during one of your biggest moments.” Nico points to another photo of both families when they were all at this exact lake house. Her dad’s in this one. “When was this taken?”

“2013.” Clementine smiles sadly. “It was the last summer my dad came here. I know it’s one of Ellen’s favorites. Mine too.”

Nico hums, kissing her temple gently before scanning the rest of the room. It’s mostly white with some rustic elements, splashes of tan and ocean blue in the comforter and the sparse decorations.  “Would I be right in assuming that this room hasn’t changed much since you were young?”

“It’s definitely cleaner,” Clementine laughs. “I know Jim and El use it as a guest room, but whenever I get the chance to come back, they say it’s mine.” There’s the sound of the front door opening and a cacophony of greetings floating through the room. She turns her body towards him and looks up at him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Well, even if I wasn’t, it’s a bit too late now, isn’t it?” He says. She pokes him in the side. He leans down to gently peck her lips twice. “Why are you so nervous? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s nervous?” 

She chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Let’s go down.”

They walk down the stairs, Nico close behind her but not quite touching her. Clementine beams as she watches her mom hug Luke and put her hands on his cheeks before greeting Jack in the same way. She knows her mom doesn’t ever miss seeing the Devils or the Canucks when they’re playing the Bruins in Boston, but that only totals to usually only three games a season. 

Clementine thinks a lot about how she sees Jim and Ellen as her parents. It’s during these moments does she remember that the boys see her mom the exact same way. 

Maeve’s eyes flit up to the stairs and she raises an eyebrow. “My beautiful daughter. You look exhausted.”

Clementine snorts. “Thanks, Mom.” She descends down the last step and hugs her mother tightly, breathing in the scent that has comforted her on the best and worst days. She catches Quinn’s eye over Maeve’s shoulder as Trevor is chatting in his ear and she can’t help but grin. 

Maeve pulls away and eyes Nico, a half smile on her face. “And you must be the infamous Nico.”

Nico chuckles, eyes widening momentarily as Maeve pulls him into a hearty hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sandoval.”

Maeve lets out an affronted noise. “None of that. Call me Maeve. You European boys and your politeness.” Clementine laughs under her breath. “It’s so nice to meet you! My daughter hasn’t mentioned how handsome you are.”

“Probably because she’s the one carrying in the looks department of the relationship.” Nico grins charmingly and Clementine feels so fucking fond.

She then begins to leave her boyfriend and her mom to converse and turns to Quinn. Time with Quinn is always scarce. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck. “Hey Q.”

“Hey Clem.” 

Clementine turns to the beautiful girl next to him. “And you must be Lauren. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She also pulls the girl into a hug. “Quinn’s been keeping you away from me.”

Quinn shoots his older sister a dirty look. “That’s not true. It’s not my fault you don’t live in California any more.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Lauren says softly. “Quinn’s told me so much about you. I love your pants.”

Clementine looks down at her cream flowy pants with a wide smile. “Oh thank you! You’re gorgeous. How in the world did Quinn land you?”

Lauren laughs as Quinn groans. “Clem.”

“I’m kidding!” She ruffles his hair. “Damn, let me have my fun. I don’t get to do this often. And don’t pretend that you’re not about to grill Nico this entire weekend.”

“She’s got you there,” Lauren says with a laugh.

Trevor comes up inbetween the girls. “Have you met this one yet?” Clementine asks.

Lauren nods. “I have. Kinda. Hi Trevor. Quinn’s also told me a lot about you.”

Trevor’s eyes widen as he pulls Lauren into a side hug. “Never listen to anything Quinn says about me. He’s mean to me.”

“You guys are all mean to each other,” Clementine rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to make.” 

Maeve claps her hands. “Out of the doorway and into the backyard, everyone! El made sangria and it’s too nice to be inside.” She picks up her bags but is swatted away by Luke, who takes the bags from her hands. Maeve kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Jack rolls his eyes as they all start walking towards the kitchen. “We get it, Maeve. Luke is your favorite.” Ellen gives him a warning look as Quinn snorts. 

“You know,” Maeve starts. “I was about to tell you how glad I am to see you. But with that comment, I’ll abstain.” Jack pouts and Maeve rolls her eyes but messes up his hair fondly. 

Nico places his hand on Clementine’s back and leans down to mutter in her ear. “I see where you get your sass from.”

Clementine chuckles under her breath. “You gotta have some sass to deal with them. My mom’s the blueprint.”

Everyone grabs a glass of sangria before they migrate outside. Clementine finds herself sitting in between Lauren and Luke, Nico sitting by her legs with everyone else in various chairs or on the grass in some sort of circle. Clementine automatically carding her fingers though Nico’s hair as she speaks to Lauren and Quinn. She still can’t believe they’ve been dating for over a year and she’s only met Lauren now. 

If she was still in California, she would’ve flown her ass to Vancouver and parked herself at Quinn’s apartment at the first chance she had. 

While she’s listening in on a conversation between Nico, Quinn and Trevor, she catches both her mom and Ellen’s eyes on her. She narrows her eyes. She sees her mom not-so-subtly eyeing her hand in Nico’s hair and him leaning back against her legs. 

Jack notices, looking between the two of them with a smirk. “Thoughts, Maeve?”

“Jack,” Clementine says in a warning tone. Nico squeezes her ankle in reassurance. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

Maeve chuckles, and Clementine sees her smile, the same smile that everyone says she also has. “Nothing in particular. Just thinking about how fun your time in Jersey has probably been so far.”

Clementine bites her lip, closed lipped-smile threatening to burst through the seams. “It could be worse.” 

As expected, Jack rolls his eyes and Luke gives her a dirty look. “Well, what could make it better?” Luke asks. 

“If you guys cooked more for me.”

Quinn looks at his brothers with a disapproving look. “You’re making Clem cook for all of you? Guys, come on. She’s busier than all of us combined.”

Jack’s jaw drops wide open as Trevor cackles. “That’s not even true! We cook for you. Just not as much because you’re just a better cook. And you always have leftovers.” Jack reaches over to whack Clementine’s shoulder. “Stop making us look like bad roommates.”

Clementine chuckles to herself. She has a lot of favorite things in life, but making fun of her brothers and throwing them under the bus has to be at the top. 

Nico looks up at her and she has to stop herself from leaning down and kissing him silly. “That cake you baked me for my birthday is still the best dessert I’ve had in awhile.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just being nice. And, I baked another one for Jack and Luke, which circles back to my point.”

Ellen starts lightly scolding her two youngest for not cooking more and Clementine snickers as she feels Nico’s shoulders shake as he’s trying to hold back his laugh. She drops his hands from his hair and instead leans forward, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. He automatically grabs her wrists and keeps his hands there. She places a quick kiss to the side of his head. 

(Without their knowledge, Maeve catches the romantic motion. She doesn’t even bother to hide her smile.)

It’s not the first time she’s seen Nico around the people she loves, but that whole weekend, she watches him and her mom get along so well, him offer to help out Ellen and Jim for meals, him shove Trevor into the lake when he’s being an absolute pest, him sitting down with Quinn by the fire one night a bit away from everyone to talk about something that neither Quinn or Nico will tell her about so she knows it’s about her. 

He slips so easily into the most important part of her life. Clementine doesn’t quite love him yet, but she’s real close. 

Their last night, as they’re getting ready to sleep, Clementine's just staring at Nico from her bed as he’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He catches her eye in the mirror and smiles, but toothpaste dribbles down his chins causing him to curse and her to laugh. 

When he climbs under the covers, she places her head on his chest. “Thanks.” 

“For?” 

“Coming here. I’m sure it’s a lot.” 

“It’s not,” he assures gently. “Why would it be?” 

She shrugs, because he’s right, in a sense. “Families are always a lot, no matter how good they are. And I know Quinn and Jimmy grilled you way more than necessary.” 

“Baby,” he rubs up and down her arm. “I knew that was gonna happen as soon as I was invited here. They were more than fine. Jack and Luke’s threats were way worse.”

“They’re annoying.” 

“They love you,” he says. “And they’re protective of you. I get it. I’m the same way with Nina.” 

She shifts so she’s eye level with him. “About that…” 

“Hm?” 

“I got the okay from my supervisors to take two weeks off.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Can I still come to see you in Switzerland?” She asks, biting her lip, nervous all of a sudden. 

Nico kisses her soundly. “Of course,” he mutters against her lips. “Yes. When?”

“I was thinking early July?” 

“To spend your birthday?” 

“If you’ll have me.” 

He squeezes her exaggeratingly, making her giggle. “You’re silly. Of course. Is there anywhere you really wanna go?” 

“I mean, I’ll go anywhere.”

“I can take you all around Switzerland. Give you the grand tour.”

“That sounds perfect,” she swallows before bringing up something that’s very important to her. “I’m paying half.” 

Nico counters back immediately. “One third.” 

She scoffs. She was prepared for this disagreement. “Half.” 

“Hey,” he kisses the top of her head. “You’re coming to see me. The least I can do is handle all of that.” 

“You’re housing me and taking me around. I’m paying for half.” 

“Nope.”

“Nico. I am perfectly capable of paying for myself.” 

“You pay for your own plane tickets and I got the rest.” 

“I pay for my own plane tickets and meals and then you got the rest.” 

“Schätzli. Let me take care of it, yeah? I want to. And I’m perfectly capable of doing so.” 

“I don’t want you to think I’m a gold digger,” Clementine says with a bit of a whine, making Nico snort. 

“I know you’re not a gold digger. If you were, you’d actually let Jack pay for you more. You know he makes more than I do, right?”

“Weird flex.”

“You pay for your plane tickets and some meals,” he compromises. “Save the rest up for something else. Buy Luke a new suit for his birthday or something.” 

She chuckles. “He does need one.” 

“Exactly.” 

Clementine lets out relenting a sigh. She’ll just have to sneak her card in here or there. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah. I just really don’t want you to think I’m mooching off you or anything.” 

“I’ve never thought of it like that at all, I promise,” he assures. She settles back against his chest again. “I’m so excited for you to come.” 

“I hope your family doesn’t hate me.” 

“They won’t.” And he says it so confidently that she has to believe him. “No one could hate you. Besides, Nina’s been dying to meet you and Luca wants to know the ‘girl who’s voluntarily dealing with my shit.’”

She laughs, turning to shut off the lamp. “Still. You’re their baby brother.” 

He pouts. “I’m not a baby.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m convinced.” She yawns, tossing a blanket over them both. “We should sleep. Gotta have energy to deal with the hooligans in the car tomorrow.” 

He laughs, kissing her forehead. “Goodnight.” 

*****

Clementine offers to drive Nico to the airport before she goes to the hospital, even though he tries to vehemently fight her on it. Clementine ultimately wins the argument, wanting to spend as much time as possible before he leaves. 

“It’s only a month,” she reminds him as she kills the engine at the curbside of the departure terminal at Newark Liberty International Airport, biting her lip to also assure herself. 

He leans over the console to kiss her sweetly. “I know,” he murmurs against her lips. “That’s a long time though.”

She runs a hand through his hair. He leans into it instinctively. “I’ll be there with you before you know it. You’ll be having too much fun catching up with family and friends to even think about me.”

“Not true.” She rolls her eyes with a smile as they both climb out of the car. Nico finishes unloading his luggage from the trunk as he carries it to the curb. Clementine’s amazed that no one has yelled at them for parking by the curbside too long yet.

She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly, leaning her head on his chest and breathing in deeply, trying to memorize his scent. “I’ll miss you.”

“I miss you already,” he mutters into her hair. “I’ll call.”

“You fucking better,” she shoots back with no bite. “Have fun, okay? Enjoy your time off.”

He kisses her one more time, which turns into three more times. Clementine bites her lower lip as he backs away to try not to cry. He brushes his thumb against her cheek. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

She nods with a shaky smile. “Yeah. Text me before you take off.”

“Of course.” He clasps his hand on his suitcase handles and backs away with a sweet smile. “Bye, baby.”

After he walks through the doors, she promptly drives herself to the train station, music playing louder than normal to hopefully drown out her own loud thoughts. She parks to see a text from Nico saying that he’s at the gate, a horribly-angled selfie of him and a coffee he must’ve bought. 

Clementine saves it.

…..

It’s only been eleven days since Nico flew back to Switzerland. They text everyday and FaceTime when the time differences allow. She always wakes up to a good morning text and a mini photo dump of pictures he’s taken that day. Sometimes they’re of the beautiful sights of Bern or Naters or wherever he is. Sometimes they’re literally just a picture of his toast for breakfast. But they’re nice to receive. And at his urging, she sends similar photo dumps back. His favorites are the selfies she takes at work. Bonus points if she’s wearing the scrubs he got her for Christmas. 

She goes to the hospital. She spends sporadic time with Quinn, Jack, Luke and other stragglers who show up at the apartment before they all head back to Michigan or wherever else. Nico relaxes with his friends and family. 

She misses him like a limb. 

…..

Clementine’s phone rings as she’s sipping on her coffee while sitting at a cafe by the hospital. She raises an eyebrow when she sees who’s calling. 

“Quinn. Hey.”

“Hi Clem. Are you busy?”

“You have me for about 15 minutes. What’s up?” She hears a sniffle and immediately she sits up straighter. “Quinny? Is everything okay?”

“Lauren and I broke up.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Fuck. Oh Quinn, I’m so sorry. When did this happen?”

“Earlier this morning. She-she called it off. Over the phone.”

“Over the phone?” Clementine tries to level her voice and judgment. “Wasn’t she just in Michigan?”

“She left last week.”

“Fuck, Quinn. How are you feeling?”

“I just, I’m just really sad, I guess. And a bit confused.” She gives him a moment to think. “I know she was voicing concerns about the distance and stuff, but we had talked about it and I thought we had come to a conclusion. I guess we left that conversation feeling very differently.”

Clementine picks at her nails, “What was her reasoning? Did she have any?”

“She said the distance wasn’t worth it anymore.” Quinn trails off and Clementine puts it together, her heart breaking for him as she finishes the thought for him. 

That Quinn wasn’t worth it anymore. 

Clementine grinds her teeth together. “Fuck her,” she says. “I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but I’m serious. What the fuck? She just suddenly decided that after dating for over a year that she couldn’t do it anymore?”

“Yeah. I’m confused about that too. When she was talking and explaining her reasoning over the phone I was just, like, shell-shocked. I think I froze. She was bringing up things that she hadn’t ever brought up before and I don’t know, it just felt like she had made the decision to break up with me before I even picked up the phone. It wouldn’t have mattered what I said.”

“That’s shitty, Quinny. How unfair.”

“I mean,” she knows he’s shrugging on the other side of the phone. She wishes she could hug him. “I know I wasn’t the perfect boyfriend and there were underlying issues, but I-I tried my best.”

“I know, Quinn. I know,” Clementine sighs. How do you comfort one of your best friends through heartbreak when you can’t actually be there? “Q, I’m so sorry. I have to head back to work, but I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Oh. That’s okay. You don’t have to. Thanks for listening anyways.”

“I’ll call you back tonight. I promise. I love you. Hang in there.”

“Thanks, Clem. Love you too.”

Clementine manages to do one thing she does very well, which is push something out of her mind and focus on the task at hand. The second she clocks out of the hospital, on her commute back to Hoboken, she thinks through how she wants to talk this through with Quinn. It’s not her first time talking someone through a break-up, so she’s learned a few tricks and phrases here and there. Like most things, it just comes with repetition.  

But this is also Quinn. Her best friend. All her previous experience might not work and might not even matter.

She calls him as soon as she finishes her shower. She lets him talk for over two hours to the point where she has to adjust her position on the couch to be near an outlet so her phone can charge. 

There’s nothing really to say in a situation like this, as Quinn details what sounds a lot like heartbreak. She wishes she was in Michigan and could give him the tightest hug. Watching and hearing his sniffles through the phone has her throat closing up and all she can do is listen.

But as she climbs into her bed that night, she lets out a breath. She’s sure it hurts so much now, but Quinn will find a way. 

He always does. 

…..

Clementine’s phone reads 6:28 a.m. local time when she lands in Zurich. She yawns as she watches the plane taxi to their gate, Taylor Swift’s “august” playing softly in her ears. Somehow, the two seats next to her were empty so she had her own row the whole flight, meaning she got to go up and pee without bothering a single person. 

She turns on her phone, and texts the chat with the Hughes / Sandoval families that she’s landed, before thumbing over to her thread with Nico. He sent a text eight minutes ago. 

Nico Hischier 

At the arrivals area. Can’t wait to see you ❤️

Clementine Sandoval 

just landed!!! can’t wait to squeeze you 

Immigration and customs goes quickly, even if Clementine finds herself tapping her foot in line. She can already feel the heat of the Switzerland summer air seeping into her skin and she tugs off her sweatshirt, happy that she has a t-shirt underneath. Once she grabs her luggage from the carousel, she takes a deep breath, wheeling her suitcase through to the arrivals hall. Her eyes dart around to try and spot her boyfriend. It doesn’t take long. 

The grin spreads on her face when she sees Nico. He’s wearing an olive green t-shirt that’s seen better days and dark jeans topped off with those scuffed up Nikes that he always seems to wear. 

He’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in newspaper, the sweetest smile peeking over. Clementine feels her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. 

She almost knocks her suitcase over as she throws her arms around him. She feels him chuckle and place a kiss on the side of her head. “Hi Schätzli,” he says softly. 

“Hi,” she pulls back and kisses him. But they’re both grinning too much to kiss properly. She holds his cheeks in her hand, happy to just be around him after a month. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you more,” he grins. “You look so beautiful.”

Clementine snorts because her Stanford t-shirt tied with her hair tie in the front and the black leggings with her Adidas definitely scream ‘I’ve been on a transatlantic flight and I need to shower.’

“I look like I just was on a plane for 8 hours,” she says dryly. 

“Beautiful,” Nico says firmly as he takes the backpack off her shoulders and grabs her suitcase, giving her the flowers to hold. “For you”

She sniffs the flowers and smiles. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me these. They’re so pretty.”

“You’re so pretty,” he replies simply. That’s twice in 30 seconds. He turns to look at her again as they walk out to the parking lot. “I’m so happy you’re here.” 

“Thank you for driving all this way. I know it’s early and far.”

“Of course. I just want to see you.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s been a month as Nico starts the drive to Bern to his sister’s place where they’re staying for a few days. The sun’s high in the sky despite the early hour, and Clementine happily sips on the coffee and munches on the croissant Nico had graciously gotten her. They catch up on each other’s weeks like they have been over the phone when they’ve been almost 4,000 miles apart. They talk about the teenager who recognized Nico the other day when Nico and his friends were playing a game of pick-up soccer and how they all played until sundown and Clementine having to step in to assist in a higher than average number of surgeries the last month, as well as having to work the Fourth of July. She holds his hand the entire time and both of them can’t seem to stop the smile from spreading across their lips. 

She’s here. In the most beautiful country. With the most wonderful person. 

“How are you feeling?” Nico asks. “Are you really tired?”

“I’m okay.” She yawns. “Even if I am, I’m not sleeping until at least 9 tonight. I’m not wasting time here by being jetlagged and sleeping at weird times.”

Nico laughs. “Fair. But it’s okay if you’re tired for a few days. I always am.”

“No wasted time,” she says, poking his shoulder on every word. 

“If you say so,” he grins. “My mom’s making a huge breakfast for us when we get back and everyone’s excited to meet you.”

Suddenly, Clementine is nervous again. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She wanted to,” he assures. “I haven’t brought a girl back home in…ever, really. They’re probably more excited to meet you than you are to meet them.”

“No pressure at all,” she says dryly. 

He looks over at her and squeezes her hand. “You’ll win them over in minutes.” Clementine hums before Nico continues. “If Jack could somehow have them all liking him in a day, you’re gonna be perfectly fine. You’re all the best parts of him and more anyways.” She reaches over to fix a strand of his hair and she wants to smirk at the light blush that paints his cheeks. He clears his throat, “I was thinking of taking it easy today, just walking around the town and exploring the area a bit. And then dinner at my favorite place in town?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says breathily. “I, just…I can’t believe it.”

She grins, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Well believe it, pretty boy.”

(His stomach flips at being called ‘pretty boy.’ She hasn’t said that one yet. Two months after they’ve officially started dating and he still feels like a teenage boy with the biggest crush on the prettiest girl in school)

They pull up to Nina’s place and Clementine feels like she’s in a dream. Bern is beautiful everywhere you look. It’s almost like she’s in a picture book of a fairytale. She stretches and rises on her tiptoes to kiss Nico on the cheek to thank him for grabbing her luggage. She tugs at his t-shirt and he stops to turn to her, momentarily confused. She just wrap her arms around his waist again, wanting to feel him before they’re surrounded by his family. He chuckles, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head three times. 

As they’re walking up the steps to the front door, it swings open as Katja, Nico’s mother, beams. “You guys made it! Hello!”

Clementine can’t help but smile back. “Hi,” she shifts the flowers so that she can shake Katja’s hand, but Katja doesn’t bother and just wraps her into a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Hischier. Thank you so much for having me.”

“Thank you for coming all this way,” Katja’s eyes shift to Nico, who’s a few steps behind with Clementine’s luggage. “Nico tells us good things.”

She chuckles and ducks her head. “I think your son is a bit too nice to me.”

“Ignore her, Mama,” Nico says as they all walk into the house. “The only person who doesn’t know she’s the best is herself.” 

There’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Clementine’s met immediately with Nina’s smile. It’s the exact same as her mother and her brother’s and she is absolutely stunning. Luca is behind his sister as well with a matching grin. And Rino, who Clementine suddenly realizes is where Nico gets so many of his facial features from, just stands to the side with a small smile. 

“You’re here!” Nina exclaims. Nico says something quick in Swiss German which Nina rolls her eyes at before she pulls Clementine into a tight hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Clementine. We’ve heard so much.”

“Yeah,” Luca echoes. “I’ve never seen Nico so excited about someone.”

Nico groans and Clementine hugs Luca with a giggle before nudging her boyfriend. “He’s not so bad either.” She turns to shake Rino’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hischier. Thank you for having me.” Rino shakes her hand with a warm smile before Nico pinches her side and pulls her closer. 

“Okay, breakfast is almost ready!” Katja claps her hands. “Nico, why don’t you show Clementine to your room? Luca and Nina, come help me finish up. Oh! I can take those flowers from you. Did Nico get you those?”

Clementine giggles as she hands them over. “He did.”

Katja pats Nico’s cheek in such a motherly way that it makes Clementine’s heart ache in the best way. “I did raise a sweet one.”

Nico groans. “Mama.” Clementine makes eye contact with Nina and they both burst out laughing. “Come on. You can take a quick shower and then we’ll come back down.”

Clementine shoots a quick grin at Katja, Rino, Nina and Luca before following Nico upstairs. She decides to jump into the shower quickly and rinse off, partially to wake her up, mostly to wash the grime of the plane off of her. Nico’s sitting on the bed scrolling through her phone when she comes back out, hair wet and dressed in a light sweater and linen shorts. 

“The fact that there’s a window in the shower looking over the mountains is so unfair,” she says, combing her fingers through her wet hair. 

Nico chuckles. “Pretty, hey?”

“Very,” she yawns. “Come on. Don’t wanna leave your family waiting.”

Breakfast is absolutely delicious and filled with warm conversation, mainly filled with the Hischier family asking Clementine questions about herself, which she happily answers inbetween way too much bread, butter and coffee. Nico tries to intercept a few times (“This isn’t an interrogation, Luca”) but she just waves him off. It’s not like she likes talking about herself, but when being surrounded by people everyday who know the ins and outs of her career, it’s refreshing to have people take interest in what she does who don’t work in the medical field at all. 

After breakfast, Clementine and Nico venture into the town and Clementine is all smiles. The sun is out but it’s not too hot where she aches for shade like she does back in the US. She had changed into a dress after breakfast and doesn’t regret it, resisting the urge to twirl around the streets. It doesn’t hurt that Nico looks at her in a way that makes her giddy.

As they’re walking through the scenic old town, it’s obvious how relaxed Nico is. Away from New Jersey and the expectations that come with being the captain of the sole professional sports team from Garden State, Nico looks like every other guy in his mid twenties. It’s not like he isn’t happy in New Jersey, but there’s something freeing in the way he walks, his shoulders free from the weight he carries during the season. 

They walk in the sun leisurely, stop by a few shops that look interesting to Clementine and grab coffee and pastries from a cafe that Nico apparently frequents often, judging by how friendly he is with the staff. She hasn’t really gotten to hear Nico speak his native language that often so she enjoys hearing him switch so effortlessly.

“You look happy,” Nico comments as they’re taking a break and sitting on a bench to people watch. 

She tears her eyes away from an adorable family to meet Nico’s warm, brown eyes. “Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I am. Are you?”

He presses a kiss to her temple and she leans her cheek against his shoulder. “Very much so.”

“Did I pass the test?” She teases. “Your family doesn't hate me?”

“Stop,” he says with a smile. “They love you. I can tell. I think my mom fell in love with you the second you talked about growing up with the boys.”

“Really?”

“She has a soft spot for sibling relationships. She always tells us how she’s glad me, Luca and Nina get along so well.”

“They’re great, by the way, your family,” she says. “Much less chaotic than mine, which is definitely a good thing. But really, really cool. I…” She trails off at the sight of a stray soccer ball. 

Nico’s eyebrows furrow before he follows her eyeline. He chuckles and gets up, holding out a hand for her. “Come on. Let’s do some passing.”

She lights up at the idea of passing around a ball with the mountains in the background on a fairly large, grassy area. The most picturesque image you could find, she thinks. She takes his hand and scurries over, getting her feet familiar with the ball as he backs away a few feet. 

They start some basic passing as they’re mindful of the fact that she’s wearing a dress. Clementine never saw soccer as more than a form of exercise in her youth, but she sometimes wishes she had time to join a rec league or something of that level in college and afterwards. The few people she keeps in touch with still in Toronto are mostly thanks to her club soccer days. 

She’s definitely rusty, but it’s good to go through the familiar motions again. She wrinkles her nose when Nico pulls off an impressive move. “This is unfair. Are you good at every sport?”

He just shrugs modestly, before passing the ball back to her. “I definitely don’t look at ease with this ball on my feet like you do. How long did you play for?”

“Like, over 10 years?” She executes some footwork and smiles in satisfaction. “Played pretty intensely all the way up until I was 18.”

“I can tell,” he smiles. “My dad would be impressed.”

She snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was never good enough to play at the collegiate level, much less professional.”

“It’s interesting that you do that.”

She stops the ball with her foot. “Do what?”

“Downplay your achievements.”

Clementine blinks a few times. “What do you mean?” But she knows exactly what he means. 

Nico lets out a light snort, “You know what I mean. You’re probably the smartest and most interesting and talented person I’ve ever met. Even when you were talking to my family about your residency, you were talking about it like it isn’t a big deal. But it is a big deal. And it’s really fucking cool. And you’re so smart and quick and…I don’t know. I wish you would show off more, even though I know that’s not your style.”

She smirks. “You want me to show off?” Without waiting for an answer, she concentrates on the ball at her feet and looks up at the goal. She dribbles the ball a few seconds before striking it in the top right corner. She huffs, satisfied that she didn’t whiff it, laughing as Nico tackles her and lifts her up in a hug. 

The next two days are spent in Bern, as Clementine fights the jetlag while her camera roll fills up. The Hischier siblings bring her around and she just soaks up the sunshine, views, and attractions. She especially loves flowing down the river on boats like the most seamless lazy river that just runs through the city, because you can’t really get that in the US. Nico continues bringing her around to his favorite hidden spots and to his favorite shops and restaurants, all with his hand in hers and the most beautiful smile on his face. 

After Clementine says goodbye to Katja and Rino, the four of them take two cars to Zurich, Luca and Nina staying with friends while her and Nico rent out their own place. They arrive at a beautiful, spacious apartment that overlooks the center of Zurich. Clementine’s birthday is tomorrow and she has no idea what the plan is because she trusted Nico when he said he would handle it, but she’s a planner, so she can’t help but bring it up as they’re relaxing before heading out for dinner.

“Nico?”

“Yeah?” He calls out from the bathroom. 

“Can you give me a hint on what we’re doing tomorrow?”

He peeks his head out of the bathroom with a smile. “I was wondering when you were gonna ask.”

She shrugs. “I trust you. But you know I’m nosy.”

Nico chuckles. “Yeah,” he comes out of the bathroom and takes his phone out of his pocket. Once unlocked, he tosses it at her. He’s lucky she has okay reflexes. 

She raises an eyebrow at him before looking at his phone. Immediately, she gasps and drops the phone as it lands on the carpet on the floor. “Nico.”

“Yeah?”

“Nico,” she repeats, breathless. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Taylor Swift? How long have you had these? How did you even get them?”

He comes over to sit on the arm of the sofa. “Nina’s a big fan. When you said you were gonna coming here for your birthday, she mentioned that Taylor Swift was gonna be in town at the same time. I pulled a few strings.”

She picks up the phone and swipes through the tickets, shellshocked. “Seven tickets?”

“Me, you, Nina, one of her friends, Luca and two of his friends. I guess they’re all kind of my friends too. I hope that’s okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed worriedly. 

“Nico, shut up. I’m gonna see my favorite artist live and I wanna meet your friends. Of course it’s okay,” she tackles him onto the couch as he laughs. “I-I can’t believe…thank you. Oh my god.”

“Good birthday present?” He jokes. 

She kisses him fondly. “I don’t know how I’m gonna beat this for yours.”

“Stop,” he murmurs, deepening the kiss. “I’m supposed to ask you if you have something to wear and if not, that you and Nina can find something tonight or tomorrow morning.”

She thinks of the light pink sequin dress she had thrown into her suitcase last minute, grateful for her past self’s decision. “I think I have something, but if I see something when we’re walking around later, I’ll let you know.” She holds his face in her hands. “Thank you. Seriously. First the whole trip and then this. I’ll pay you back for the tickets as-”

“No you won’t,” he says against her lips. She pulls back and gives him an unimpressed look. “I barely paid for them. It would be unfair to ask you to. It’s your birthday. It’s my present to you.”

Let other people do things for you for once, Clem, Quinn’s voice echoes through her head. He’s said multiple iterations of it throughout the years, but this one in particular she can envision, at dinner right after the Canucks played San Jose back in her Stanford days. That was about something simpler — arguing over who was paying for dinner — but the sentiment remains the same. 

“Fine. But I’m paying for everyone’s dinner tonight.”

“Of course,” he beams. 

“I mean it,” she warns. 

“I know.”

She slaps his shoulder with a smile. “You fucker. I can’t believe you got those tickets.”

“27 is gonna be a good year, hey?”

She launches herself into his arms. 

Yeah, it is.

…..

Clementine wakes up on her birthday to Nico pressing kisses all over her face as she squeals and wiggles around. She stretches and her arm whacks him in the face, causing him to groan. She kisses him as an apology. 

“Happy birthday, honey,” he says, hovering over her with a light smile. “I can hear your bones cracking already.”

“I will push you off the bed.”

“Empty threats.”

She yawns. “How much time before everyone gets here?”

“Like, two hours? Why?”

“Perfect,” she says, pulling him closer to kiss him feverishly. He lets out a soft moan and she melts into a puddle

An hour and a half later, Clementine fiddles with the coffee maker in the kitchen as everyone starts filing in. Nina is first to bounce over and gives Clementine a big hug, wishing her a happy birthday. She meets their friends and glares at Luca as he places a large bag on the table with tissue paper peeking out of it. She doesn’t need birthday presents. But it’s sweet they thought of her anyways. 

After lunch at a nearby outdoor cafe that Clementine falls in love with, everyone heads back. The guys venture out to the balcony while she, Nina and Anika, Nina’s friend, quickly make some friendship bracelets and start getting ready. Clementine’s almost done curling Nina’s hair when Nico peeks his head in, lighting up at the open box of beads on the table. He scurries in to grab the supplies and takes them outside without a word.

Anika, who’s been doing Nina’s makeup while Clementine’s been doing her hair, grins. “You two are cute together.”

“Oh, thank you.” Clementine looks up to flash a quick smile before focusing on not burning Nina or herself. 

“I’ve known Nico since he was a baby,” Anika says. “Always the younger one, he was chasing us all the time. Wanted to do everything we were doing. But it was Nico and he was so sweet, so we never said no.”

Clementine chuckles. “Yeah, I get that feeling. Not that my brothers necessarily wanted to do everything I did, but they were never far behind me when we were young.”

“Right,” Anika dabs the liquid blush on Nina’s cheeks. “That’s how you and Nico met, right? Your brothers play with him in New Jersey?”

“Yeah.”

Clementine’s taken aback tone must show because Nina smiles at her through the mirror. “My brother has talked about you quite a bit since he’s come back.”

That makes Clementine look down a bit abashed. “I guess they aren’t technically my brothers,” she clarifies. “I just grew up with them.”

“So like me and Nina here.”

“Yeah. Exactly like that.”

“Do you play hockey?” Anika asks, stepping back as she finishes Nina’s makeup. 

Clementine snorts, spraying hairspray into Nina’s hair. “No. You do not want to see me on skates. I played soccer. Or football, I guess.”

“But you enjoy watching it?” 

The conversation momentarily pauses as Clementine is ushered into the hot seat. Nina unplugs the curler and plugs in the straightener (“I want to try something”) as Anika takes a look at Clementine’s makeup products. 

“I do,” Clementine says. “Enjoy watching hockey, I mean. I don’t know if that would be the same if I wasn’t so closely connected with the sport personally, but I do enjoy it. It’s more comforting now than anything.”

“I still remember the day Nico got drafted,” Nina says wistfully. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“And I remember everyone here staying up to watch it,” Anika adds. “There were people piling into the streets after in celebration.”

Clementine grins. “Yeah, I get that. I still remember Quinn, Jack and Luke’s draft days. It’s an extremely weird moment. Like, it’s wonderful of course, but also strange?”

“That makes sense,” Nina says. “It’s really cool to see how things have turned out since then, but it’s an interesting moment for sure. Especially when you remember Nico, or in your case, Quinn, Jack and Luke, as little boys just being little boys.”

“Nico’s really happy with you, I can tell,” Anika says. “And I don’t just say that to say that. His smile looks lighter. Freer.”

“I think that just might be because he’s home.”

“It’s because of you,” Nina says in a tone that leaves room for no argument. 

When she slips into her pink dress and puts the bracelets on her wrist as they’re about to head out, it hits her what’s really about to happen. She’s about to see her favorite artist. She still remembers being gifted a CD of Taylor’s debut album from her father, Teardrops On My Guitar on repeat. After the Eras Tour sold out in seconds and the resale tickets were way too high, she lost hope on ever seeing Taylor on tour, at least this go-around. 

She walks down the stairs and the first thing she sees is Nico. Dressed up in a light pink button up with khaki shorts, a backwards hat placed on his head, laughter etched in the lines on his face as he converses with his friends and siblings in his native language, she swallows. He looks up as she reaches the last step and his smile turns softer. Nina’s previous words echo her mind as she easily presses against his side. 

Clementine wrinkles her nose as she looks up at him. “You really do love your hats.”

“You don’t?”

“They’re fine. I just like your hair more.” Without argument, he takes his hat off and tosses it on a nearby couch. She gives him a look but he just kisses the top of her head. 

The closer they reach Letzigrund, a football stadium, Luca had said, she marvels at how large it is. She’s been to large concerts before, but as they park and make their way through the gates, she’s taken aback. Nico gently tugs their hands so she doesn’t get lost in the ground as they go find their seats. Turns out Nico pulling a few strings means tickets on the floor, not too close to the action where they would get pushed but at a vantage point where they’re in the center and can see everything. She turns to look at him bewildered and he just shrugs, a wry smile playing at his lips.

She pokes him. “Best birthday present ever.”

He takes a sip of his beer casually. “I’m glad. You know I prepared for this.”

“How?”

“I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift non-stop the last month.”

“I know we haven’t been dating for a long time, but all I do is play Taylor Swift.”

“True. But I didn’t realize how many songs she actually has. And you’re probably gonna know all of them.”

“Probably,” she admits. She’s definitely the biggest fan among the group right along with Anika. “But you don’t have to know all of them to have a good time.”

“I know. I heard she puts on a good show.” They watch Yannis, one of their friends, exchange bracelets with a stranger before Nico nudges her lightly. “I’m also just, I don’t know, excited because you’re excited.”

She snorts. “You’re a sap.”

What she wants to say, really, is “I love you.” But she refrains. 

Throughout the whole concert — which in itself is a highlight of her life and something she won’t ever forget — Clementine wants to tell him she loves him. When Taylor appears in her colorful, sparkly bodysuit and sings ‘Lover’ while Nico’s arms find their way around her waist as he’s standing behind her swaying them lightly, she wants to tell him. When she, Nina and Anika loop their arms around each other screaming ‘You Belong With Me’ and he simply points his phone at them with a laugh, she wants to tell him. Right before the bridge of ‘Champagne Problems,’ when he whispers a soft “wow,” eyes glued on Taylor on stage as she sings one of Clementine’s favorite songs of hers, she wants to tell him. When he quickly leaves and comes back in the middle of ‘Delicate’ with a beer for her and a water for them to share, she wants to tell him. 

When ‘Long Live’ comes on and she sees his eyes light up in recognition, before he pulls his phone out to record the end — her favorite part and the fact that he knows that is something in itself  — she wants to tell him. When he and the boys scream ‘22’ so incredibly out of tune and she can’t stop laughing, she wants to tell him. When she fully loses her voice screaming out ‘Illicit Affairs’ and he can’t hide his grimace at his eardrums bursting, she wants to tell him. As they both watch Anika practically collapse when the opening notes of ‘Style’ ring out — she had come into the concert blind to the setlist somehow — and Clementine can’t help but shake her hips while singing along, she wants to tell him. 

When he presses a kiss on her temple multiple times during the surprise songs as she is tearing up, she wants to tell him. When Taylor closes out the show with ‘Karma’ and Nico is visibly in awe of all the colors, fireworks, confetti and overall grand finale, she wants to tell him. 

She leans into his side as they walk to their cars. She loves him. They bid farewell to everyone. She loves him. When they get back to their place, they decide to rinse off the sweat and grime together and he gently rubs massages shampoo into her hair. She loves him. 

As Nico falls fast asleep next to her, arm wrapped securely around her waist, she’s about to lock her phone when she sees that she has a few text messages. They’re from Nina, who has already speedily downloaded the pictures she took on her digital camera from tonight. She thumbs through them quickly, smiling at all of them. 

She stops at one of her and Nico taken before the show in front of the stage. They’re both not looking at the camera but at each other. She’s in the middle of talking — about what, she can’t remember — as Nico is just smiling at her. 

She looks down at the sleeping man next to her. She loves him so fucking much. 

…..

(She does end up telling Nico that she loves him a few days later, as they’re weaving through a farmer’s market in Lucerne, him carrying the bags filled with fresh vegetables and other groceries that they’re using to make dinner tonight.  She thinks he doesn't hear her at first, but he tugs them towards the side and drops the bags so he can cup her face in his hands and kiss her. 

“You love me?” He murmurs. 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I-I know it’s soon and you don’t have to say it back-”

He shakes his head with a grin, “Shut up.” He kisses her again. “I love you, Schatz.”

“Really?” She swallows. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I love you,” he repeats firmly. “I adore you, if we’re gonna be honest. You’re getting really close to be one of the best things that Jersey has brought me.”

“Well, now you’re just being stupid. How about, oh I don’t know, your entire career?”

He picks up their bags again, tossing an arm over her shoulder. “One of the best. Love you.”

She lets out a happy sigh, momentarily leaning her head on his shoulder as the sun hits their skin)

…..

The Switzerland tour is wrapped up in the best way, in Nico’s hometown of Naters, right by the mountains. Seriously, how is one country allowed to be this beautiful? She gets to hear the stories that litter these streets, the memories associated with the air interlacing with the wind, from a man who she loves and loves her. She tries not to think about how this is the last moments they’ll have until he comes back to New Jersey in September. 

The night before she takes off, they go out to dinner at a fancy enough place that Clementine’s pulling out one of her more formal dresses. The candlelight illuminates Nico reverently, his brown eyes not tearing away from her for more than 15 seconds the whole night. The attention would be overwhelming, but Clementine just lets herself sink into it. 

This feeling of being loved like this? It’s new. And she’s fully aware that it’s fragile and it could crumble any minute. But not right now. Not with Nico looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. 

When he drops her off at Zurich airport the next day, she hugs him for a full minute. She doesn’t cry, but there’s a pull at her heart that plants the silly idea of staying here forever just so that she doesn’t have to leave him. But she pulls away, kisses him one more time, runs a hand through his hair, before grabbing her things and walking through the automatic doors. 

…..

Clementine’s about to take a shower when she hears a key click into place. Seconds later, she’s sandwiched between Jack and Luke, uncontrollably laughing. She’s missed them dearly. 

Luke smacks a kiss on her cheek. Jack ruffles her hair. She scolds them about leaving their bags in the front door where anyone could trip on them. 

They’re back for another season, albeit a bit early to spend their last few summer days in the city. Nico lands tomorrow. Her Google Calendar has been synched with the Devils and Canucks game schedules.

Suddenly, the heat wave that’s hit New York / New Jersey doesn’t feel so constricting anymore.

…..

She might’ve had to bribe Ben to switch shifts with her, but there was no way she was gonna miss the home opener. Even if she’s extremely tired.

Clementine somehow makes it home before Jack and Luke are due to be at the rink earlier than normal for the carpet and other things. They’re both dressed and ready to head out. It’s a reminder that if Clementine sits on her couch for even 5 minutes, she will fall asleep. So she shouldn’t do that. 

Not even a minute after she shut the front door, there’s a knock. Jack calls out that it’s open and Nico walks in. 

If this were a few months ago, Clementine would blame just getting back from a long day of work for her eyes literally popping open. But it’s not, and she calls the man who walked through the door her boyfriend. Yet here she is, in her scrubs with her messy ponytail and smelling of hospital, just staring.

Holy. Shit. Nico looks hot. Which, like, yeah, he always does. Clementine is well aware that her boyfriend is a very attractive man. But something about the new green three piece suit that she had helped him pick out over FaceTime when he was still in Switzerland and his hair and the overall look has her literally speechless. 

Luke, like the bitch he is, takes note and just laughs. “Cat got your tongue, Clemmy?”

She finds her voice. “Fuck off.” 

Nico just smirks as he hugs Jack and Luke before walking over to give her a peck, “Hi.”

“Absolutely not,” she backs away when Nico reaches for a hug. He pouts but she shakes her head. “I just worked for 12 hours in a hospital. You do not want to hug me.” 

“Of course I want to hug you. I love you.” 

Somewhere behind them, she hears a gag. Gags, actually. She sticks out her middle finger behind her back before leaning in to give him another kiss. “I’ll hug you after the game when I’m clean.” He ignores her and just smothers her in a hug as she squeals. He presses exaggerated kisses all over her face as she tries to slither out of his hold. “Stop!” She breathes out in between laughs. “I’m literally so gross.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Can you two not?” Luke deadpans. 

The couple both roll their eyes. “This is nothing,” Clementine retorts. 

“I know, which makes it worse.”

Jack snorts as he grabs his water bottle and keys. “You two ready to go? We’re cutting it close.”

“Yeah,” Nico tosses Jack his eyes. “You guys go down first. I’ll be a second.”

Jack looks between his captain and sister with a subtle glare. “Five minutes.”

“We are older than you,” Clementine retorts. Jack rolls his eyes before exaggeratedly blowing a kiss to Clementine. She scoffs but blows him and Luke a kiss as they walk out the front door. “They’re annoying.”

Nico chuckles, before brushing a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. “How was your day?”

“Fucking brilliant,” she deadpans. “You can’t tell by my messy hair and eye bags?”

His eyebrows furrow. “If you’re too tired to come to the game, you don’t-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence. I’m not missing the home opener. Are you insane? I’ll be good after a shower and a beer or two.” She places her hands and gently straightens his jacket into place. “You look incredibly hot.”

“Yeah?”

She kisses the smirk off his face. “Oh please. Like you don’t know.”

“It’s a good ego boost hearing that from the person’s opinion I care about the most.”

She gently brushes her hand through his hair. “I’m a very lucky woman.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he presses one last kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you after?”

She tilts her head to the side and pouts a bit. “Thought I was going home with you after no matter what, Captain.”

Nico’s eyes darken the slightest bit. Bingo. “Careful, baby.”

Clementine shrugs nonchalantly. “Have fun. Maybe score a goal or two for me?”

“What do I get if I do?”

“Careful, baby,” she echoes with a smirk. “You should head out before Jack and Luke storm back in here. And you know they will.”

He groans. “You ruined the moment.”

She chuckles, gently shoving him back. “Good luck. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

…..

It’s not like anything is wrong, perse. 

Clementine doesn’t often get into her overthinking moods. Frankly, she doesn’t have time for it. Since she was 18, it was study hard, let herself be dragged out once in awhile by her friends away from the books, listen to her own gut when it told her she actually needed a break, feel herself falling more in love with medicine and patients and caring for them, rinse and repeat. She’s 27 now, and the contours of that thinking have adjusted to whatever moment she’s in, but her core is still the same. 

But when she finds herself in these overthinking moods, it consumes her. Her mom once told her it causes her to think irrationally, and Clementine had snapped back, even though deep down, she knew it was true. 

These overthinking moods could be about anything, and have been about anything. From grades, to the overwhelming ache of missing her father, to questioning if the path she’s worked so hard for is worth it, to questioning if going to California for eight years and away from everyone was the best choice or just the convenient excuse she could use when in reality, she was running from her problems. From watching Quinn, Jack and Luke from right next to them but also from so, so far away, to making sure her mother still enjoys and loves life even though it’s been almost ten years since she lost her partner, to her own self worth and if she’s as good of a person that everyone always tells her she is and how that can be true if sometimes she feels like she’s grasping at straws. 

The point is, Clementine knows herself well enough to know when one of these moods is coming. 

It hits her full force on her commute the way to the hospital, because of course it does. Last night had been really fun with the season home opener. She sat with all the significant others for the first time and the vibe was high. When Nico had scored, the girls had all cheered and pointed to her as she finished off a beer. Some of the fans had given her high fives and maybe had caught on, she thinks, especially because she was wearing a 13 jersey and Nico had pointed in her direction after he scored. But Devils fans are also just really nice, so it also could’ve been nothing. 

She already had a lot of the other women’s phone numbers from last year’s Friendsgiving, but she was officially added into the group chat because she’s not just Jack and Luke’s pseudo-sister who lives with them anymore. She’s also the captain’s girlfriend. 

Something about that has her mind racing this morning as she watches the streets of New York City at 7:29 a.m. outside the bus window. Now she’s thinking about whether she should be doing more because of that title. In the grand scheme of things, her and Nico haven’t been dating for that long. Realistically, she knows no one is expecting her to do anything more. She venmoed Nicole immediately yesterday when she had casually mentioned the money pool all the significant others have for various things like events, gifts and other things. But should Clementine be the one spearheading that because her boyfriend’s the captain? She just got here. She has no fucking idea.

She always thought being surrounded by hockey her whole life would help her in most of these situations. Not this one. 

When the time comes — if the time comes and her and Nico even last as long as she wants to — and off-season comes back around, is he gonna expect her to spend it in Switzerland with him? Obviously, that didn’t happen this summer because they had literally just started dating, but what about the future? She wouldn’t ever ask him to move his training closer to her, but how would off-seasons work in different countries when the regular season is already crazy enough?  She knows All-Star breaks and off-season vacations are a thing, but with her inflexible work schedule, how is all that going to work? Will he be upset that she probably won’t be able to join him? What if, somehow, Nico is traded to another team? Clementine’s home for the next four years is going to be New Jersey / New York. And then, vice versa, what happens if her future leads her to yet another part of the country?

Yeah, she’s majorly overthinking now. 

Usually, she would talk to someone about it, but in a rare instance, her mind comes up blank. Her mom and Ellen would just tell her to slow down and that she’s being silly. Emilia and her other friends at the hospital would listen, but wouldn't really get it. The other significant others are nice, but she doesn’t feel particularly close enough with any of them yet to voice her intrusive thoughts. No way is she talking to Quinn, Jack or Luke about this. 

That would leave Nico. But there’s something about that that feels off too. 

She’s also been told multiple times that she can’t keep things to herself. And she really does think she’s gotten better at it throughout the years. But old habits die hard. So she also does something she’s really good at. Putting it all away the second she walks into the hospital 

The next time she thinks about it is during a quick break she has inbetween patients, when she checks her phone and sees the notifications from the significant other group chat. Nothing important as she thumbs through quickly, but it still leaves her with a weird feeling in her stomach. 

And again, she wills those thoughts to go away as she steps back out into the hallway. 

The next few days, Clementine doesn’t see Nico much. She’s at the hospital and he’s busy with the new season starting and getting back into the swing of things, making sure his team is doing well on and off the ice and making sure new guys are acclimating. It’s nothing out of the ordinary — it’s not like she’s seeing Jack and Luke that much either while living with them. But she also knows deep down that it’s more than that. 

A week and a half after the season opener, Nico texts her to see if she wants to come over to his after her shift and they can make dinner together. Despite whatever weird things she’s thinking, she says yes. It hits her like a brick that they haven’t seen each other since Nico kissed her goodnight after the season opener.

She can tell something is on his mind immediately, or maybe that he knows something is on her mind, but they both don’t mention it the whole night. Instead, they loosely follow a steak dinner recipe Nico found online and keep the topics light. 

But she can’t help but feel like something is off the whole night. Clementine knows she should ask him. Talk to him about it. 

She doesn’t. 

Her stomach remains in weird knots for the next few days when she lets herself think even for a second about her boyfriend, who’s supposed to be the person she can talk to these things about, right? Clementine’s a bit out of practice — it’s been over three years since she’s had anything sembling a relationship — but goddamn, she doesn’t think this is normal. 

But she doesn’t want to burden Nico. He’s already overwhelmed enough with everything on his plate. She can see the wheels constantly turning in his mind. She doesn’t want to add onto that. 

So, Clementine avoids. 

…..

More patients. More long hours. The Devils first road trip. She should’ve known the people she lives with would pick up on something sooner than later.

“Are you and Schao fighting?”

Clementine has no idea where that nickname came from and has never asked. Hockey players are weird creatures, the nicknames they give their teammates included. 

She keeps her head down, putting the chicken pot pies in the oven. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I asked if he wanted to come by for dinner and he made some shitty excuse about calling his family or something.”

“Calling family is not a shitty excuse,” Clementine says automatically. Her back is towards them, but she knows Luke always beelines directly towards the bathroom to rinse off right after practice. So Jack’s the one who’s dropping their bags loudly on the floor. “Bags against the wall, Jacky.”

He grumbles and Clementine smirks to herself in satisfaction as she hears Jack move the bags. “So? Trouble in paradise?”

“None of your business.”

“Dude.”

“I mean it. None of your business.”

She doesn’t exactly snap — somehow, Quinn, Jack and Luke have never annoyed her enough to make her want to — but it’s something close to it. Silence, and then she hears Jack rounding the kitchen island. He tugs at her arm. “Do I need to beat him up? I know he’s my captain or whatever, but I will.”

“Absolutely not.” She finally makes eye contact with him and is taken aback at how serious Jack looks. “I’m not fucking with your team chemistry.”

“Who cares about team chemistry?” Jack asks, watching as she stirs the glazed carrots. “You’re my sister. So I’ll ask again. Do I need to whoop his ass?”

She sighs, leaning her hip against the counter. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugs. “There’s nothing much to it. Just a bump in the road, I guess.”

“About?” Jack presses lightly. 

Clementine bites her lip. One part of her is telling her that she shouldn’t talk to Jack — or Luke — about her relationship troubles simply due to the fact that Nico’s their captain and friend and teammate and rock and all of that. But the other part of her does want to finally talk to someone. “I think we’re trying to figure out how to be together with both our busy schedules and it’s…tougher than we anticipated.”

Jack hums, “I see.”

Despite herself, Clementine snorts. “I’m not getting relationship advice from my younger brother. I’m not stooping that low.”

“Lame,” Jack shoots back. “Your loss. I think I could give you some decent Nico advice. I’ve known him much longer than you have, you know.”

He does have a point. She watches him blow a piece of hair out of his face in thought. Then, Luke walks in with his damp hair. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Luke asks. 

“Nothing.”

“Nico.” She glares at Jack, who just shrugs with a smirk. 

Luke sits down across from her. “Oh wonderful. We’re talking about how miserable he’s been lately?”

Clementine busies herself by pouring him out a glass of water. “Nico’s been miserable?”

“Uh, yeah.” Luke says in a know-it-all voice that has her wanting to smack him on the head. “Besides, like, maybe a few smiles on the ice after a good play or game or whatever, he’s just had those sad eyes.”

Ah, yes. Those sad eyes. Clementine’s acquainted herself with those, even last season when they weren’t together. They come out after every loss. They’ve never come because of her. 

She shrugs, trying to be casual about it. She can feel Jack’s eyes narrowing and knows that his brain is moving. People don’t give Jack enough credit for how perceptive he can be. He tugs at her sleeve again, and Clementine sighs, lowering the flame so she can give him his full attention. 

“Do I need to talk to him?” Jack asks softly. “I don’t like seeing either of you sad.”

“Wait, hold on,” Luke interrupts. “You can’t talk to him if you don’t know what’s going on, Jacky.”

“No one is talking to anyone,” she says. “We just haven’t been able to see each other much lately. Or don’t want to. I don’t know.” 

“Clee.” Jack says flatly. 

She finally cracks, swallowing. “Obviously, I know what a season looks like. I mean, fuck, I lived with you two last year and I literally grew up with hockey all around me. I know it’s busy and I know he’s even busier because he’s captain or whatever. But shit, sometimes it feels like…I don’t know.”

“It feels like what?” Jack presses. 

She puts her head in her hands for a few moments before looking back up, squeezing her eyes together to keep the frustrated tears at bay. “Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t even want to be around me. Like we’re strangers or just friends or whatever”

“What?” Luke deadpans. “Clemmy, that’s…what?”

Jack throws his brother a dirty look. “Let her finish.”

“And it’s on me too,” she continues as if they hadn’t interrupted. “Like, yeah, he’s busy, but so am I. And I’ve been taking extra shifts and staying at the hospital to study longer because things are getting harder but, I don’t know. I guess now that we’re actually in the season it’s a whole other thing. I know I’m being unreasonable. Maybe I’m just not cut out for a relationship or whatever.”

She knows the last sentence is an intrusive thought. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have some semblance of meaning.

“That’s stupid,” Jack says. Clementine looks up from the table to look at him sadly. He has a look of fire in his eyes. “The last part, I mean. Not cut out for a relationship? What does that even mean?”

“If that’s not it, what is?” She huffs out. “I just feel like, I’m losing him? Assuming that I had him in the first place, I guess.”

“Clementine,” Luke starts. He never calls her by her government name. “What are you talking about? That boy is head over heels for you. You’ve had him since the moment you two met, I’m pretty sure.”

“Have you guys talked about this?” Jack asks. “Like, actually sat down and talked about how you’re feeling and why you’re upset.”

“How can we talk when I don’t even know why I’m upset?”

“It doesn't need to be, like, extremely coherent. Even if it doesn’t come out pretty or whatever, at least he’d know and stop making assumptions. And as someone who knows Nico, he’s definitely doing that, but probably not talking to you about it because he thinks he’ll just burden you with it.”

Clementine groans. “That’s the crux of it, I think. We’re not talking about the things that matter. We should be able to do that. Because I also think I’m burdening him with my unnecessary problems.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Luke starts. “Cap’s miserable and you’re miserable because you’re not…talking to each other?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a dumbass.” She picks at her nails. “It’s also more than that. A lot of factors involved.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jack promises. 

Clementine glares at him. “No. Stay out of it, Jacky. You too, Luke. I’m not putting you guys in the middle of our shit when you have to play with him.”

“I’m not gonna say anything bad,” Jack says. “You said that you feel like he doesn’t wanna talk to you, right? Which I know is a load of bullshit. He, again, probably just thinks he’s bothering you with his shit because that’s how Nico operates. He’s a great captain and will listen to anyone else’s problems, but thinks that no one wants to hear his, which, like you said, is stupid, especially when it comes down to you two. I’ll talk to him, Clee. Give him a little push. And then you two need to talk.”

She turns towards Luke — since when does she trust Luke enough to determine a good idea from a bad one? — who shrugs. “It wouldn’t hurt,” Luke says. “Jack has a way of getting through to Nico like no one else can.”

“Yeah, but that’s on ice stuff. This is off-ice stuff. And something that doesn't involve you guys.”

Jack lets out a little noise at that. “Hate to say it, but the second you guys started dating, we were already involved.”

She sighs. Because he’s right. Again. “I love him,” she says. 

“I know. And he loves you too. No one’s doubting that,” Jack says. The oven beeps and before she can move, Luke rushes to gather the pies. “I won’t overstep, I promise.” 

They let the topic go for the rest of dinner. 

…..

Clementine doesn’t even get the chance to fully swing open the door the next afternoon before Nico’s pulling her into a tight hug. She freezes for a few seconds before melting into his embrace, rubbing her thumbs against the back of his neck as he rests his head on her shoulder. He mumbles something and she asks him to repeat it. 

He straightens up, hands still wrapped around her and clears his throat. “I always want to be around you.”

She blinks, before sighing in realization. “Whatever Jack said, it’s-”

“It’s not about what he said,” Nico says, closing the door behind him. “Not entirely. He just…lit a fire up my ass a bit.”

“A bit too bluntly and with so little tact that would seem rude if it wasn’t coming from Jack?”

Nico snickers. “Yeah.” He calms down and looks at her seriously. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she responds automatically.

“No, I mean,” he pauses and swallows. Clementine knows his wheels are turning. Even after being in North America for almost a decade, sometimes his English fails him and it takes a few moments for him to formulate what he wants to say. “I love you. I always want to be around you. I want to hear about your days at the hospital and I want to kiss you after every win and to hug you after every loss. But most importantly, I want to hear about your thoughts and feelings about everything, and that includes us. I’m sorry that you haven’t felt comfortable to do that lately.”

Her heart lurches and she places her hands on his cheeks. She can’t take the sad, watery eyes. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright. It’s on me too.”

He vehemently shakes his head, his hands reaching to wrap around her wrists. “No, it’s not. I-I’m the one with- you’ve given me so much control, with the season and everything, when you’re just as busy. Probably even busier than me. Shit, you’re literally a doctor. That’s nothing compared to what I do.” 

“Nico-“ 

“I know I need to work on communicating and letting people in. It’s been an issue my whole life. Just ask Nina. I, you know, the team is wonderful and supportive, but I still feel the need to not let them know too much about my struggles, you know? Because I’m supposed to be the leader. But you’re not part of the team. Not in that way. You’re my girlfriend. My best friend. And I need to work on talking things through with you instead of my instinct of shutting down or dealing with it myself.” 

Clementine blinks, taking it in. She’s always known Nico to be self aware, but this is a whole new level. 

He kisses her gently, before pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better. That’s a promise. You can come to me with anything, even if you don’t think it’ll be something I want to hear. You can trust me. Rely on me. I’ll prove it to you everyday.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” she says, rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs. “Just…please talk to me? And I also need to work on doing that with you. I know we’re both busy and have our own separate lives-”

“You are a part of my life,” Nico assures. “A huge part. Like yeah, it’s separate with the fact that you have the hospital and your people there and I have hockey and the people there, but not really. We’re a team, right?”

She smiles at him repeating her words back to her face. She had said that once in their phone calls over the summer where she started rambling about how she’s always seen romantic relationships as more than just sweeping each other off their feet. ‘If the two people aren’t on the same team, then what’s the point? Then it’s just two people with a whole lot of feelings who never truly see each other eye to eye’ she had said. 

“Yeah. We’re a team. Since we’re a team, can I propose something?”

“Anything,” Nico rushes out. And it’s so nice to know for sure that he means it. 

“Can we try to do one night a week? Just for us? Unless you’re on a road trip or I have a weird shift schedule for some reason. Obviously, more would be great, but one at the bare minimum?”

Nico hums. “One guaranteed date night with you every week? I think I can manage.”

“You think?” she pokes his side. 

“It’s perfect,” he says with pure sincerity. “You’re perfect.”

She rolls her eyes. “Far from it.”

“False,” he beams, sneaking another kiss. Clementine’s heart feels the lightest it’s felt in weeks. “I can’t believe Jack was right.”

She snorts. “About? Jack’s never right.”

“I know,” he rolls his eyes, before looking at her in a way that makes butterflies flutter in her stomach. “But he was right this time.”

Oh. They’re not talking about the fight anymore. 

…..

(Clementine finally tells Nico everything that day about the overthinking — the tendencies and the topics she was overthinking about this time. He’s rubbing her knee as she talks about how she feels like she has to be setting an example or something because she’s dating him. She knows he wants to interrupt and assure her. She appreciates that he waits until she finishes. 

He reassures her, which is nice, but he realizes that that’s not necessarily what she needs. Clementine just needs someone to listen. And Nico thinks everything she says is always worth listening to. 

But Clementine also likes to be proactive and have tangible next steps, something she and him have in common. So they both come up with the first step: Clementine sends a text to Kristen Haula, who has a lot of experience of just … being the significant other to a professional athlete. Kristen responds quickly and kindly, asking when Clementine has a day off from work where she can come over and they can chat. 

It’s always a breath of relief knowing people want to help with problems that she thinks are stupid. Because they’re usually not stupid. Nico’s there to assure her of that. 

She goes to sleep that night with a smile.)

…..

That conversation is just the start. Because you can say all you want in a relationship, say you need to improve things, but until things are actually done, it doesn’t mean squat. 

She can tell there’s something on Nico’s mind, even in the short phone call as he’s heading to the rink before a game and she’s heading home from the hospital. Clementine asks multiple times if he’s sure he’s okay and he tells her he’s fine, so she lets it go, wishing him good luck and assuring him she’ll be watching. 

The Devils lose 5-1 to Vegas, and it’s so tough to watch that she almost wants to turn it off before it ends, especially after the camera pans to Nico’s face and Jack breaking his stick on the boards in frustration after the final buzzer sounds. A four game losing streak. 

After giving Jack and Luke extra long hugs, Luke burying his face into her shoulder and Jack clutching her t-shirt, she calls Nico as she’s climbing into bed.

“Hey baby.”

“Hi.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, okay? Are you back at your place?”

“Yeah. What are you doing awake?”

She swallows at his blunt tone. “I wanted to catch you afterwards.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Get some sleep.”

“Oh. Okay. Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

A rustle on his end. “I’m sure.”

“Want me to come by tomorrow morning? I don’t have to head in until the afternoon.”

Silence. “Yeah?” The raspy voice he’s gotten from yelling during the game momentarily makes her smile because she’s always found it so attractive. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” she thinks his voice softens. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

“Great. Goodnight, then. I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“Goodnight, Schätzli. I love you.”

The next morning, she punches in Nico’s code and walks in to him pouring out a cup of coffee for her. He’s dressed in his typical day off attire: a random t-shirt that she thinks looks unfairly good on him, gray sweatpants and his hair is all messed up. She paddles over to the kitchen.

From behind, she wraps her arms around his waist. “Hi baby.”

“Hey,” he turns in her arms to peck her lips. “You eat yet?” He asks. 

“Mmhmm.”

He hums, following her to the couch and sinking down right next to her. He tucks himself into the blanket with an involuntary hum, burying himself into the pillow, dragging her down so that she’s laying on his chest. She breathes in his scent and automatically smiles. She feels him physically relax. 

“How’s the hospital been?”

Clementine shrugs. “The usual.”

“Tell me more.”

She blinks. Oh, she realizes. And she then talks about random details of her week that don’t actually matter but she’s figured out that sometimes he just likes to listen to her voice. Whether to ground himself, get himself out of his own head or both. He hums in all the right places to show he’s listening, but she also doesn’t really need him to listen about the workplace drama of people having a theory that two of her coworkers are hooking up. 

There’s a lull in the conversation as she listens to his heartbeat. She thinks he might have fallen asleep. She doesn’t dare move to check.

“Eight.”

So he’s not asleep. She taps her fingers on his chest. “Hm?”r

“This is my eighth season in the league. Eighth in Jersey. And I have nothing to show for it.” She swallows. She debates sitting up so she can see him, but she stays still. He sighs. “I feel like we’re just never going to have a good start to the season, and it’s just like this every year and I’m not doing anything right. I can’t shoot. I can’t score. I can’t lead this team.” 

“Nico-“ 

“At this point, if we’re not the team that’s gonna get Jersey to the cup, then who is? It’s always been about potential and things falling into place and sometimes I feel like all of it has and then we end up falling short anyways.” He starts breathing faster and Clementine sits up, holding his hands. She can see the storm in his eyes. “Fuck, I’m the captain. Part of my job is to make sure this doesn’t happen and that when we gain momentum, that we don’t lose it. But it feels like we can’t even gain that momentum so we’re stuck in whatever the hell we’re stuck in. It’s starting to remind me of my first few seasons here, which really fucking sucks and just shouldn’t be where we’re at. Are the pieces ever going to come together like everyone has been saying it will?”

(In the back of her mind, Clementine’s stomach drops because Nico rarely swears, and he just dropped two f bombs in the last 15 seconds)

She squeezes his hands. “Nico. Please listen to me when I say this. It is not all on you. Captain or not, no one is expecting you to carry all of that on your shoulders.” He opens his mouth to counter but she’s quicker. “Nope. I don’t want to hear it. If I’ve learned anything from growing up with three hockey-playing brothers, is that hockey is a team sport. You win together. You lose together. Everything you go through? You go through together.”

“But I feel like I’m not doing anything right.”

“If any single one of your teammates heard you right now, I know they’d smack you in the face.” Clementine says bluntly. “Even before we were dating, from day one of training camp in Jack’s rookie year, when you didn’t even have the C yet, he was already raving to me about how good of a role model you were. You didn’t just get that C just because, Nico. You were and are the best option. I fully believe it. Your teammates respect you so much, baby. I see it with my own eyes every game. And they love and respect you enough to know that this is not all on you. You lead your team so beautifully. It is your team. And fuck the media and what they’re saying. Half of them can’t even hold a stick in their hand or skate. Literally who cares what they think? The outside noise is all bullshit anyways.” She rubs his cheekbones with her thumbs. “I know my words can’t fix the slump you guys are in. But I refuse to let you believe that any of this is entirely your fault. It is anything but. I refuse you to let you believe you’re anything but a good leader. You are the best leader. But you need to put less pressure on yourself over things that are out of your control.”

She lets her words wash over him, as he nods. One of her favorite things about him is that he’s always so expressive, especially in the domestic environment of his apartment under the maroon blanket she knitted him for Christmas. Here he is, not under any arena lights, just in his home away from home, trying to find some grounding. She places a kiss on his forehead and he practically falls into her touch.

“Everything about you always helps,” Nico whispers. “Thank you.”

“No need,” she smiles as his cheek rests on her stomach, arms wrapped around her waist in a tight embrace. “It’s okay to be frustrated and upset, honey. I get it. But you’re gonna drive yourself insane if you keep holding all this weight on your shoulders. Share it with others. Share it with your teammates. Share it with me. It’s what we’re here for.” Nico mutters something in German and she snorts. “English, please.”

“I don’t want to share it with you if it means I’m gonna explode and scare you. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

Clementine blinks, digesting that statement. She picks her words carefully. “It’s more than okay to show emotions. Any psychologist would tell you it’s healthy to do so. The fact that you’re afraid at the idea of scaring me is probably a good indicator that you won’t. And please. Give me some credit. I don’t get scared easily.” She leans down to press a kiss in his hair. “I mean it. Share the burdens, baby. We all want to help.” 

He hums and she lets him play with her fingers before she has to go to work. 

…..

There were cons to not living near the boys for eight years — missing big moments and not having their presence around all the time being the two biggest ones. 

But there were pros too. Such as, not being a part of moments that she would rather be anywhere else for. She doesn’t know who gave the three boys the sex talk (it probably was Quinn, but who gave it to him?) and she knows that if she had been in Toronto or Michigan during that time, she would’ve begrudgingly done it and hated every second. 

If she thinks about it too much, it’s kinda incredible how she hasn’t encountered this particular situation yet. 

This particular situation being this: Clementine’s just come back from an overnight shift she got let off early from, exhausted to her bones but not exhausted enough to be immobile. On the drive back from the station, she was debating whether to stop by her favorite deli or make her own brunch. She ultimately decided that there are too many things in the fridge to justify her going to the deli. Maybe next week. 

So now here she is, preparing her feta egg bake thing that she saw on TikTok, a mix of vegetables drizzled in olive oil and various herbs sitting on the counter on another tray, ready to go into the oven. She hears the front door open and glaces at the clock on the microwave. Morning skate must’ve been earlier than normal today. 

“Hello?” Luke’s voice calls out. 

“In the kitchen!”

She hears two pairs of footsteps come closer, assuming that Jack is with him. Though if she had stopped to think about it, she would’ve automatically thought it was weird that he didn’t call out a greeting either. She turns around, half smile planted on her face. The half smile doesn’t exactly drop at the sight of the unknown blonde girl next to him. Just turns more confused. Before Clementine can say anything, Luke speaks up. 

“Hey. I didn’t think you’d be home until later.”

“They let me out early,” she searches her mind quickly, trying to see how to ask who the fuck is in their kitchen without sounding like a bitch. 

Luckily, Luke does it for her. He clears his throat. “Uh, Clemmy, this is Ava. Ava, Clemmy. Or, Clementine, I guess.”

Clementine decides to put him out of his misery a bit. She hopes her smile is friendly enough. “Nice to meet you, Ava.”

“Same here. Are you Jack’s girlfriend?”

Before she can stop herself, she snickers. “He fucking wishes.”

“That’s Amelie,” Luke corrects. “Clemmy’s dating Nico, my captain.”

Ava’s eyes widen. “Oh. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Clementine waves away her apology easily. “A lot of names. A lot of characters. Speaking of, where is Jack?”

“Dropped him off at Amelie’s after practice, actually. She’s totally gonna kill me though. I think she has to head to Philly later.”

“She’s definitely gonna kill you. Have you two eaten yet?” She asks politely. 

Ava nods. “We did. Thank you so much though.”

“Anytime.” Luke makes a move to lead Ava to his room and Clementine immediately gets the hint. “If you change your mind, our fridge is open to all. I live here, which means there should be something edible.”

“Hey!” Luke protests. The two girls laugh. “Thanks though. Are you heading to Cap’s?”

Clementine shrugs. “I was going to eat, nap and maybe head over later, but I also didn’t know your morning skate was earlier than normal. Maybe I’ll go over to his and use him as my pillow.”

“Don’t drive if you’re too tired,” Luke warns, sounding entirely too much like Jack. “Hisch can wait if needed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her spatula at them. “Alright. I’m off an overnight shift, so you know what that means.”

Luke rolls his eyes as Ava looks between them curiously. “Your social battery is at its lowest and you’ll start snapping soon.” Ava looks amused and Clementine grins. “C’mon, Ava. Let’s go to my room.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Ava says. 

“Likewise,” Clementine responds. The second Luke’s door shuts, she puts the feta egg bake and the vegetables in the oven and immediately grabs her phone, thumbing over to her text chain with Nico. 

Clementine Sandoval 

lol just had a major big sister moment 

She gets a reply in seconds. 

Nico Hischier 

???

A moment you haven’t already experienced?

Clementine Sandoval 

luke just came home with a girl I’ve never met before 

Nico Hischier 

In the day time? Lol

Does Jack know about this? 

Clementine Sandoval 

lol i’m assuming not

i def would’ve heard about it by now 

luke’s not that stupid if he wanted to keep it quiet (which it seems like he does) jack would be the last person he’d tell 

Nico Hischier 

You do realize I’m their captain, right? 

I could very well be with Jack right now. He could be looking over my shoulder

Clementine Sandoval 

please i’m not an amateur 

luke already told me he dumped jack at amelie’s 

what are you doing the rest of the day?

Nico Hischier 

Sitting on my coach and staring at the wall waiting for my beautiful girlfriend to come by after she takes her nap  

Clementine Sandoval 

whipped 

any chance i can come by earlier and nap at yours? didn’t know you guys had an earlier skate 

Nico Hischier 

Door will be unlocked ❤️

Clementine Sandoval

???? your door has a code 

but thanks 🩵🩵 i’ll come by after i eat

After her food is cooked thoroughly, she eats quickly, flicking through emails on her laptop. She can hear a movie playing through Luke’s laptop in his room and murmured voices through the door. As she’s cleaning up and getting ready to head out, she debates on whether she should tell Luke or not. She probably should, because then he’ll start worrying, which is something that she’s noticed all the brothers have done more as they’ve gotten older. 

“Luke!” She calls, “I’m heading out.”

“Okay,” she hears his voice through his door. “Are you coming back for dinner?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll text you.”

“Okay!”

Clementine chuckles before grabbing her stuff and closing the front door behind herself. 

Nico snorts as she’s retelling what happened, sipping on a cup of coffee. Clementine’s rambling to the max, sitting up on his kitchen counter and swinging her legs, not stopping even as Nico slips himself inbetween them and plants his hands on her thighs. 

Suddenly, she trails off with a yawn. He chuckles softly before engulfing her in a hug, kissing her neck softly. “Couch or bed?” 

“You don’t like just lounging on your bed.”

“But it’s your nap time and you like my bed.”

She plays with his hair, placing her cup of coffee down carefully. “Couch.”

“Okay,” he hums, helping her off the counter. “Is there anything I need to wake you up for later?”

“I made some sort of promise a few days ago that I’d cook Jack and Luke dinner, and I feel bad that I haven’t done it yet.”

“They can come over here and we can both cook them something.”

“You have groceries in your fridge?”

He gives her a look as she giggles. He tosses a blanket over her. “Sleep before you start getting sassier on me.”

Clementine hums, eyes already drooping. She tugs at his shirt as he’s about to leave. “Stay.”

“Baby-”

“Just until I fall asleep,” she grins as he climbs in, immediately burying her head into his chest as his arm wraps around her. She hums, eyes already shut. “I love you,” she murmurs against the cotton of his shirt.

She feels the gentlest kiss on her forehead before drifting off to sleep.

…..

Clementine loves being able to switch her brain during a live hockey game. Unless she gets a call from anyone at the hospital — which hasn’t happened yet — any good hockey game can turn her often overtired and overstimulated brain off. 

So when Sarah, one of the staffers she frequently runs into at Devils games, comes up to her row, Clementine’s immediately standing up. “Sarah? What are you doing up here?”

“Can you come with me for a second?” At Clementine’s concerned stare, Sarah continues quickly. “Nothing bad! Just want your help on something medical related.” 

“Medical related?” Clementine stands up and starts following Sarah. 

“One of the kids in the Islanders box hurt herself and I’m pretty sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but you work with kids so I figured you could give another opinion and calm her down, maybe? If you don’t mind, of course.”

Clementine breathes out a sigh of relief. This she can handle. “I don’t mind at all. Jesus, Sarah. I thought it was something more serious.”

Sarah grimaces. “Sorry. Again, I just want a second opinion. I’m sorry to interrupt you watching the-”

“I get it. And hey, I’ve watched dozens of games by now.” They arrive at the visitor’s suite and somehow, Clementine feels immediately at home even though there’s an adorable blonde girl crying on the floor with her mother kneeling down next to her. 

Clementine bends down and sits on the back of her heels. “Hi cutie. My name is Clementine. I’m here to help you, okay?” The mom, who is drop dead gorgeous, mutters some encouraging words to her daughter. “Can you tell me what happened, sweetie?”

Inbetween hiccups, the young girl explains that she was running around because her dad had just scored a goal but had run into a chair and had fallen backwards and now her ankle really hurts and if it’s broken she won’t get to play with her friends at recess. Clementine softly shushes her and calms her down before asking if she can take a look. The young girl nods and Clementine gingerly takes her ankle, rolling up her jeans. She speaks to the girl softly (who Clementine learns is named Winnie), asking about who she’s here to see and the game and anything else to keep her distracted while she does her routine checks. 

Clementine taps her ankle. “Well, good news, Winnie. It’s only swollen, which won’t require going to the hospital. I’m just gonna wrap it up for you and get you some ice to keep on it, okay? And lots of rest, which means no running around for a bit.” She nods thankfully at Sarah, who runs to grab some bandages and an ice pack. 

“Does that mean I get to watch Disney all day tomorrow?” Winnie asks. 

Clementine laughs. “That’s gonna be a decision your mama has to make.” She turns to the gorgeous blonde again with a smile. “Everything’s all fine. Just lots of rest and ice and she’ll be good in no time. You can give her children’s motrin if she complains that it hurts too much, but it shouldn’t if she isn’t moving it around.”

“Thank you so much,” she says gratefully, putting her hand out. “I’m Sydney. It’s nice to meet you. I’m really sorry for interrupting your game.”

Clementine waves her away. “It’s no problem at all. I’ve seen a bunch of these, so I’m not too pressed.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Not yet technically. I’m in my second year of residency with pediatrics and ER. But I promise I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, no! I trust you, don’t worry. You have a very calming presence.”

“Well, your daughter is super sweet. So I’m sure you have a lot to do with that.”

Sydney beams. “You’re so sweet! Thank you.” 

“Who are you here for?”

“Number 17. Matt Martin. He’s my husband. How about you?”

Clementine chuckles, as Sarah comes back with the supplies and Clementine wraps the bandage around Winnie’s ankle. “Depends who you ask.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I grew up with Luke and Jack. 43 and 86. But I’m dating Nico. Number 13.”

“That’s the captain, right?”

“It is.” 

Clementine’s surprise must show through her voice because Sydney laughs. “Honestly, I don’t know why I know that. I blame my past journalist self who picks up on details quickly. Or the Devils and Islanders being in the same division.”

“That’s completely fair. I feel like I know too much about hockey for someone who never played.”

“It’s an added layer when we choose who we surround ourselves with, right?” Sydney says and Clementine nods with a smile. “Where are you doing your residency?”

“I’m mainly at NYC Health and Hospitals / Bellevue. First and 28th.”

“Do you live in the city?”

“Oh, no. Though that’s probably smarter, right?” They both laugh. “No, I live with Jack and Luke in Hoboken. They kinda begged, and it saves me money, and I don’t mind the commute.”

Sydney looks around for Winnie, who’s hanging out with one of the other Isles wives and is occupied. “Am I keeping you from someone? Thank you again for all your help.”

“No, not at all! Decided to come out solo tonight.”

Sydney then nods to two empty seats against the glass. “Come sit with me?”

Clementine just smiles and follows her to the seat as Winnie runs at her legs. The two women laugh as Clementine picks her up and sits her on her hip. 

She leaves that night with a new number in her phone. Jack whines about her “befriending the enemy” as Luke cackles. Nico just grins, because he knows what it’s like to be captivated by her energy instantly. 

*****

Clementine’s reading on Nico’s couch when she hears him groan loudly from the kitchen. When she doesn’t hear an explanation, she finishes the sentence and looks up. 

“Everything okay?” 

“No,” he grumbles, walking back in and typing something rapidly on his phone. “The rookies and the young guys went out and got way too drunk and called me by accident. I literally couldn’t understand more than two words of what Shea was saying.” 

“How are they getting home?” 

Nico sighs and picks up his keys. “I’m getting them. I don’t trust them to not puke all over an Uber right now.” 

“But you trust them to not puke in your car?”

“I’ll tell them to aim out the window.” 

Clementine snorts, standing up. “You drank earlier. I’ll drive.” 

Nico blinks. “I didn’t drink that much.” 

“Don’t care. I’m driving. How many of them are there?” 

Nico looks at his phone, presumably his texts, to confirm. “Five. But apparently Luke called Jack so he’s coming too.” Nico laughs, reading another text. “And Amelie. Must be a similar vibe at the Hughes apartment tonight.” 

“It was. Amelie told me they were having a chill date night too.” She quickly goes to Nico’s room to toss on one of his Devils sweatshirts. She comes back out and sticks her hand out as Nico slips on his shoes. “Keys. And grab a few trash bags, please.”  

Nico obeys before they’re both out the door, his hand naturally brushing against her back as they wait for the elevator. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“All of this.”

She snorts as the elevators doors shut. “Don’t need to apologize for your teammates acting their age.”

“Yeah, but it’s not your responsibility to deal with that.”

“It’s yours though.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “I’m not following.”

She rises on her tiptoes to kiss him, to which he responds with enthusiasm despite his confusion. “Your boys, my boys, no?” She murmurs against his lips, letting him steal two more kisses. “I’m dating you. You’re the captain of an NHL team. You look out for the guys. Therefore, so do I.”

Nico shakes his head with a fond smile as the elevator doors open and he shuffles them both to the garage, his hands steadily on her hips. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Been told that once or twice in my life,” she dodges his pokes as they walk to the car. 

It only takes them 15 minutes before they’re in front of a bar. Nico pulls in right next to Jack’s car and Clementine laughs as all four of them get out of their cars at the same time. One look at Amelie tells her that she probably was dragged out of bed to come here.

She nods at the younger girl as they trail behind their boyfriends walking into the bar. “Chauffeur?” 

Amelie smiles wryly, handing her a few bottles of water for whoever is coming in Nico’s car. “No. I’m the one who actually opened the wine tonight. But I don’t trust Jack to wrangle these guys by himself. Also, he promised he’d get me lunch from my favorite place tomorrow before I have to drive to Long Island.”

Clementine whistles. “Good girlfriend you are.”

Amelie tosses an arm around Clementine’s shoulders, which makes the latter grin. Amelie had been a bit shyer when they met at the start of the season, but she likes to think she’s cracked the photographer’s exterior a bit. They walk into the bar and just follow the guys, who quickly find their teammates. Clementine only raises an eyebrow as Seamus stumbles to give Nico a hug, almost taking out Simon in the process, who looks like he’s about to either fall asleep or throw up any minute. Jack is subtly steering glasses of alcohol away from Alex as he’s chatting away to Luke. Clementine’s half convinced he’s speaking Swedish and Luke’s too drunk to realize. She scans the bar to find the last straggler and chuckles when she sees Nico (little Nico, she affectionately calls him) come out of the bathroom. He brightens up when he sees the older girl and Clementine laughs loudly as he almost falls into her arms. 

She, Nico, Jack and Amelie corral everyone into the two cars — Luke, Alex and Nico riding with Jack and Amelie and Seamus and Simon with Clementine and Nico, all purely based on proximity. Clementine gives both Amelie and Jack hugs before climbing into the drivers seat. She gives Seamus and Simon each bottles of water as she starts the engine. 

“Drink. The whole thing. Both of you.” She commands. She peeks through the rearview mirror to make sure they do. 

“I’m waiting for the lecture, Mrs. Cap.” Seamus groans out.

Clementine snorts. “No lecture from me. But you guys do remember that you have a team meeting tomorrow, do you?”

“How do you know that?” 

Nico snorts as an answer as Clementine rolls her eyes. “How much did you guys have?”

“I stopped counting after the third round of shots,” Seamus says. Simon might have fallen asleep for all she knows.  

“And who bought that round?” Nico asks. 

“Luke,” Seamus and Clementine say simultaneously. She hears Simon groan, so he’s not asleep. Nico just chuckles. 

It only takes 30 minutes to get them both safely home and to get back to Nico’s apartment. It’s almost 2 a.m. by the time they get back. Clementine gets comfortable fast, with Nico’s body pressed up against hers. The last conscious thought she has before drifting off to sleep is that she wants to do this with him for the rest of her life. 

The first thing she hears when she wakes up is a bunch of male voices. She squints at her phone. 10:27 a.m. Team meeting started at 10. She yawns and rolls out of bed, washing her face and brushing her teeth before deciding to go fix up a quick breakfast for herself before locking herself in Nico’s room so the team can do whatever they do during team meetings. 

The voices all halt as she nears the living room. Any other situation she would be a bit embarrassed perhaps, but frankly, they all know and should’ve expected this. And they’re in her apartment. Or Nico’s. But it also might as well be ours. 

She offers a lazy salute. “Morning boys.” A chorus of greetings echoes and Clementine chuckles. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

“You can stay,” Nico says softly with a smile from where he’s standing behind the couch. She just waves him off, pours out a cup of coffee, quickly fixes herself some hummus toast with feta on top and slips back into his room. 

She sets her food down carefully on the bedside table and eats while scrolling through her email and social media. She even puts her headphones in so she’s not tempted to listen to the guys through the wall.

It’s about a half an hour later when she hears a faint knock on the door. She calls out a “come in” and takes out her Airpods with a smile when Nico peeks his head in.

“Hi Schatz.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“The boys wanna say hi,” she opens her mouth to protest but he beats to her to it. “We’re pretty much done. Pizza’s coming any minute so we’re just chilling out now.”

Clementine grabs her empty plate and mug, rising up to her toes to press a kiss on his cheek. “Breaking the diet?”

“We just won a tough back to back. We deserve it.”

“Sure you do,” she chuckles as he playfully swats her butt. They walk back out into the living room together and she rolls her eyes as everyone cheers. Nico heads back to the living room as she heads into the kitchen to start another pot of coffee, politely nudging Dawson and Dougie out of her way. 

Nico’s apartment is spacious, but twenty plus hockey players all crowding around make it feel much smaller than normal. Clementine decides to swing herself on top of the counter to chat with Luke and John, mostly content with listening to them talk.

When she hears a chorus of laughter, she turns to the living room to see what’s going on to already see quite a few of the guys looking at her. She raises an eyebrow at Nico, who she swears has a slight blush painting his cheeks. But he doesn’t shy away and beams at her instead. With some boldness, she bounces over to him, squeezing in beside him on the couch. He leans into her touch automatically. She wonders if this is a side of their captain his team hasn’t seen much before. 

That last thought has her hesitant for a second, but as if Nico can sense it, he takes her hand off his shoulder and kisses the back of it before going back to a previous conversation with Jesper. Her hand remains in his. She catches Timo’s close-lipped smile and Nate’s visible delight. Clementine just sends them a wink before leaning into Nico’s side. 

Without missing a beat in laughing at something Jesper says, Nico places a kiss in her hair. 

(Later, as the team is starting to filter out of Nico’s apartment, Jonas pulls him aside. Nico is immediately on high alert when Jonas decidedly switches to their native language. They don’t do that often during the season.

“She’s great. Clementine,” Jonas starts.

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Yeah,” they both look over to the other side of the living room, where she’s in the midst of a playful debate about something with Jack and Jesper. Though from the way she punches Jack in the arm, maybe it’s not so playful. “I know we met at the end of last season, but I wanted to give it some time. She’s weirdly perfect for you.”

“Spit it out, Jonas,” Nico stares at him. 

Jonas just stares back for a bit before letting out a small chuckle. “I’m really happy for you, truly. You deserve someone like her.”

“Like her?”

“Yeah. Someone smart, beautiful and who will be just as all in as you are.” 

Nico looks down at his feet, heat rising up his neck all of a sudden. “She’s the best, really. Kinda keeps me sane without even trying.”

“That’s all you can ask for from a partner,” Jonas pats his shoulder once before calling out a goodbye to everyone. 

Clementine rushes over to give Jonas a quick goodbye hug. Nico feels himself falling and not wanting anyone to catch him.)

…..

The universe is on their side for the 10 year anniversary of Miguel’s death, with the Canucks scheduled to play in town the day after. Ellen, Jim, Quinn, Jack, Amelie, Luke, Maeve, Clementine and Nico all go out to brunch on New Year’s Day, before heading to the cemetery. 

They’re all bundled up as they lay out a few blankets, lay down their flowers and some of Miguel’s favorite food and snacks. The cemetery is quiet, but it’s quickly filled with everyone’s laughter as they share their favorite memories and reminisce. Quite a few tears are shed and the tissue box is passed around often. 

When they’re about to leave, everyone gets their individual moments by his tombstone to pay their last respects. Clementine and Maeve let the Hughes’s go first, hands intertwined with each other. Then, Clementine and Maeve step up and the young woman swallows, her mom’s head falling on her shoulder. With one last squeeze, Maeve steps back and gently ushers Nico to stand next to his girlfriend despite his gentle protests. 

The second she feels Nico’s arm draping across her back, Clementine lets out a sob as she buries part of her face into his jacket. It’s not a sad sob, but it’s not a happy one. She’s happy he’s here with her. She wishes her dad could meet him and love him as much as she knows he would. 

Once they reach the bottom of the hill, Quinn reaches out to squeeze her hand. She keeps her right hand in his as Nico’s pressed against her left side. She stares ahead at her mother pressed between Ellen and Jim with Jack, Amelie and Luke right behind them in a similar embrace.

The birds are chirping. The sound of the wind is made even more noticeable as it whistles through the leaves. The sun is shining, not a single cloud in the sky.

Clementine feels peace settle into her heart.

[wildflowerluver]

sharing 

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

3 times aaron shares his clothes with you

cw: nsfw mentions, aftercare, bau reader, injury, case details

wc: 1.4k

༺♡༻

suit jacket

aaron hotchner is rarely seen during work hours in anything other than a suit. 

there’s exceptions, of course, such as cases up north where he can be found dressed in jeans and a quarter zip. but then again, how often does the team get sent to a place like alaska. 

the team was sent up to vermont. the suspected unsub lived and hunted in the thick forests which made profiling extremely difficult. days later, when you finally had a suspect, you and the team wasted no time in speeding through the pouring rain to get to his location. 

arriving first, you and morgan shot off running after the unsub who had escaped out of the back of his rural house and into the woods. the team stayed behind to raid the home for one of the missing girls as well as setting up a base camp for the arrest. 

by the time you caught up with morgan who had already apprehended the unsub, you’re soaked from the rain. it doesn’t help that you have to walk up another hill to get back to where you hope the team is.

you’re absolutely drenched and can’t stop shivering. 

the bullet proof vest that sits across your chest has transformed from its normal navy blue to a near black; mud streaks across it to add to the mess.

once you appear in the sight of the team, emily is the one who reaches you and morgan first. 

you’re both a little out of it from a combination of the weather and the chase. her voice is muffled but the hands cupping your cheeks are easy to feel. they’re warm and seem to ground you. 

the warmth you’re feeling is leaving as quick as you registered it. emily’s soft hands are replaced with larger, more calloused ones. ones you know very well; aaron’s.

“honey, are you alright?” his voice is quiet.

it takes you a moment to meet his eyes.

“s’ cold,” you chatter.

aaron takes you being able to respond to that as a win. his expression shifts to relief as he places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “the ambulance is here. we should get you checked out.”

you allow him to guide you over. morgan’s already been cleared which is a good sign.  

the emt’s waste no time in bombarding you with questions. you’re still shivering.

not even thinking twice, aaron slides off his suit jacket to place it on your shoulders. you know you won’t be fully warm until you get out of the clothes that you’re in but the jacket is a kind gesture. 

aaron doesn’t care in the slightest that his jacket is getting wet. you, on the other hand, frown and try to push it back. you know how expensive his work clothes are. they’re the only thing in your shared closet that gets sent to a dry cleaner for special cleaning.

“y/n,” aaron scolds. “please take my jacket.”

you feel like a child at his words. his usual term of endearment had shifted into just your name for emphasis. 

you grumbled quietly before allowing aaron to readjust his jacket over your shoulders. it doesn’t just provide you with warmth from the material, but simply from knowing that it was aaron’s.

he stays seated next to you the entire time. His arm had snaked around your waist to hold you close.

aaron waits until the emt’s successfully clear you and move to check on some of the others before he raises his chin so you meet his eyes. 

he leans down to kiss you gently. it’s short and sweet. you barely have any time to process it before he’s pulling away. 

“all better.”

sweater

the house is slightly chilly when you wake up.

normally you would take this opportunity to roll over and bury yourself into aaron’s chest. he was a personal furnace.

instead of finding aaron beside you, you’re met with an empty bed. his covers are neatly tucked in and his pillow is fluffed. the mattress is cold too, a telltale sign aaron’s been out of bed for quite a bit. 

though tiredness courses throughout you, the urge to find aaron outweighs that. 

you shiver as your feet hit the hardwood floor. the shirt you decided to wear to bed seems like a bad choice. across the room, a grey article catches your eye.

the sweatshirt is soft in your hands once you pick it up. you know it’s aaron’s judging by the print on it. he had a habit of keeping his old college apparel.

the george washington university logo had faded and cracked from years of wear but it smells like aaron. you don’t think twice before sliding it on. 

you pad down the stairs and shuffle into the kitchen in search of your boyfriend. 

the sleeves of aaron’s sweatshirt go a bit past the tips of your fingers and you bring your hands up to your chest.

aaron is by the stove, humming along to the music that plays out of the record player as he cooks breakfast. he’s dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. you have no idea how he isn’t cold though you’re sure he’s planning on building a fire in the fireplace to combat the chill of the blowing snow outside. 

you waste no time in moving forward to wrap your arms around his midsection. your head finds a place between his shoulder blades as you squeeze him a little tighter. 

“good morning,” you smile.

aaron places his spatula to the side and turns the stove down. whatever he’s making can wait. 

he’s turning around to face you. your arms remain around his waist and his move up to cup your cheeks.

aaron moves down to kiss you deeply. your heart beats faster as your lips meet. despite the months of dating, you never get tired of kissing him.

“good morning, honey,” he mumbles against your lips.

aaron’s eyes leave yours and look down at your frame. you bite your lip. 

“is that my sweatshirt?” he asks.

you hide your face in his neck. “maybe,” you mumble. you know he’s not mad but the embarrassment of getting caught makes your face flush.

aaron kisses the crown of your head. 

“i don’t mind. looks much better on you anyway.”

shirt

you’re still breathing hard when your head finally hits the pillow.

aaron takes his time pulling out. you whimper at the empty feeling but he kisses you gently as if to combat the feeling.

“so good for me,” he presses the words into your neck. “so perfect.”

aaron thumbs away a few stray tears, purely from pleasure, that have fallen down your cheeks. your eyes are still a little clouded and aaron notices almost immediately. 

“feeling okay?” he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips.

you nod, face flushing. “more than okay.”

aaron hums. aftercare after sex is one of the most important things to him but he first needed to make sure you were okay.

“c’mon, let's get cleaned up,” aaron snakes an arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. you keep your head in the crook of his neck as he helps you to your feet and into the bathroom.

aaron takes his time with you in the shower. he makes sure the water is just the right temperature before he pulls you in.

his hands are soft as they wash and massage your scalp. he’s mindful of your sensitivity and when you’re done, he wraps you up in a big fluffy white towel. 

“what can i get you?” aaron asks.

“bed,” you mumble, tiredness finally taking over.

aaron kisses your forehead. he squeezes your hip and leaves you to walk over to his drawer. he returns just a moment later with one of his t-shirts in hand.

“arms up,” aaron instructs gently.

you do as you’re told, the soft material concealing your body in the best way possible. the smile on your face tells aaron he made the right choice in his pick of pajamas for you. you can’t help it, there’s something so intimate about sharing clothes with a partner. 

you finally make it back to the bed. the sheets had been changed and the covers are pulled back to make it look extra inviting. 

aaron helps you before sliding in after you. 

you promptly curled into aaron’s side.

“goodnight honey,” he whispered.

you’re asleep before you have the chance to answer.

[cranberrymoons]

tis the season

prompt: platonic stobin (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 581 rated: t tags: road trip, bickering, fluff, and one (1) daddy joke 💀

welcome to Day 17 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

“If you’d just –”

“I told you, I didn’t –”

“It’s not my fault you –”

“Listen, Buckley, I’m –”

“Guys,” Steve says, cutting through their bickering. His hands are tight on the steering wheel, and he can feel his shoulders bunching up around his ears, and they’ve been trapped in this car for god knows how fucking long, and he just – “Cool it.”

Robin huffs, flopping back in her seat. “Sorry, Dad.”

Eddie does too, turning around from where he’d been twisted fully in the passenger seat to argue with her about whose fault it was that they ran out of car snacks a half hour ago. (It was Steve’s actually; he finished the pretzels when no one was looking, but he’s not about to rat himself out and face down the combined force of their snack wrath.)

“I’d call you Dad too,” Eddie says. “But that usually goes the other way around for us, doesn’t it?”

Robin makes a disgusted sound, and Steve catches a glimpse of her outraged face as she surges forward to punch Eddie on the shoulder.

“Okay, just –” Steve reaches behind himself, batting at Robin halfheartedly, cheeks going warm as he glares at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. “Chill. There’s a truck stop –” He squints at an approaching sign. “A mile ahead. Just hold out for literally one minute, and then you can have all the snacks you can carry.”

Robin huffs, and Eddie grumbles under his breath, and they both lean against opposite windows like a couple of sullen teenagers, but Steve manages to get them safely off the road and to the gas station without further incident, which he counts as a win. 

“We both know it was you, by the way,” Eddie tells him once they’re inside, wandering down a long aisle of chips, shoulders bumping under the glaring fluorescents of the convenience store. “Snack monster.”

Steve smiles, letting out a little laugh. He turns to Eddie, toe to toe in front of the salt and vinegar chips. 

“You don’t actually know it was me,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t prove it.”

“Are you kidding? I was present at the scene of the crime.” He leans closer, and Steve sways toward him, but Eddie just grabs a bag of Doritos from the shelf behind him and retreats. He shakes them in Steve’s direction. “These are going under lock and key, by the way.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

“Dude.” 

Eddie’s grin flashes at him as he starts back down the aisle in the direction they came. Steve follows, and they find Robin near the register, examining a rack of Santa hats with possibly too much intensity. 

“Buckley,” Eddie says. He tosses her a bag of Combos, which she catches in two fumbling hands. “Dude. What’re you doing?’

“Trying to decide which of these Christmas-themed trucker hats I’m going to buy,” she says. She plucks one off the rack and shoves it on her head, turning to face them. “Thoughts?”

It has an embroidered torso with ornaments for boobs, and it says Tits the Season in script. Steve nods very seriously, clutching a fresh bag of pretzels. 

“It’s perfect for you,” he says, and he’s only joking a little bit. “Matches your eyes.”

“Good,” she says. She takes it off her head and shoves it into his chest. “You can buy it for me, since you’re the one who ate all the fucking snacks.”

[also on ao3]

[rokishimizu4]

Signal’s Fast Food Adventure

(I’m gonna be finishing up the BatFam headcannons on my tumblr, then take a small break before starting my actual BatFam story on my AO3, as I’m gonna be starting my new job soon and I need to get it into my routine. Doesn’t mean that I’ll quit posting, but I’ll be posting on my other blog more than on this one.) (Also, Reader is small and has those soul stealing gray/blue eyes, you’re welcome)

To say that Duke was so happy to be stuck on the day shift due to his powers and such would be undermining the sheer wiliness of Tim, who can barley stay awake during meetings on a good day, to replace him for an entire week after the spider incident.

Duke, while facing worse things than a giant spider that wasn’t even gonna hurt anyone, had allowed Tim to join him. Not because he was terrified that Tim would find someway to get him to agree, like putting a fake spider in his bed or something, certainly not.

But he was incredibly thankful when Tim returned to the night shift. Not that his brother was bad at being a daytime bat, but Duke knows that the daytime rouges would appreciate not getting a double dose of roasting from two bats (One bat bringing up mommy issues was enough, thank you)

Plus, the daytime rouges were polite enough not to attack during lunch rush (As the line to any fast food place, not to mention restaurant and gas stations, were packed with already hangry people) and mostly tried to pull off a few bank robberies instead of trying to blow shit up.

Speaking of the lunch rush, Signal sits down on the roof ledge overlooking some of the fast food places/ Restaurants that busy rouges and Gothamites frequently stop to grab a quick bite to eat (That a few tourists go to as well if they’re brave enough), and waits a good half an hour before making his way down once the crowd thins out enough that he could get in and out without being recognized. (Hopefully)

He waits a bit more, until he notices that someone was stepping out of the Batburger and placed a sign out a bit away, then turning back and going back in.

Signal smiles to himself, before dropping down onto the empty sidewalk and casually walking past the sign into the restaurant. (Which reads: Closed for cleaning, this is not an invitation to rob us! Signal is watching!)

The bell rings with the pleasant dings of common dinner bells (not unlike Alfred’s little dinner alarm) as the smell of pure greasy food assaults Signal’s nose as his mouth begins to water and his stomach growls.

“Hey Mr. Signal! Got your order up and ready!” A man back behind the counter calls out with a smile, a gray wife-beater hugs tightly to the man’s chest and eagerly clings to his prosthetic hand/arm and steel plating. The man had a weird Australian/Canadian accent, but the man’s skin reminded Duke of a cup of coffee with either too much milk or too little (depending on the light, he guesses)

Signal just gives the man (who he’s not sure what the guy’s name is as he has no name tag) a smile and a nod. Eagerly taking the bag of four bat burgers and a large fries and setting money on the counter.

He turns to leave, but stops when he accidentally bumps into someone (much smaller than him cause he was almost reaching 6ft).

Cue him looking down into the pouting storm clouds above a flooding river eyes of a very small person, of whom was wearing a knitted purple and turquoise sweater and ripped jeans, and something in his chest flutters like when he first met Damien and won his respect after a brutal patrol.

“Sorry little one. Here, let me help you back up.” Cue Signal reaching up and gently grabbing the kid’s? Hand and starting to help them up, only for his powers to activate mysteriously.

”SHIT CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

Cue Signal running out of the restaurant and back up onto the roof of the tallest building close to the sun.

Cue Signal experiencing a different type of ‘ghost vision’, one were he feels a brief flash of pain of a needle prick, and a taste of chocolate. But, he sees nothing but white, hospital white but different.

Once, the vision is over, he rushes back down to the Bat Burger. However, the person he accidentally ran into was already gone but he swore that he could make out a faint smell of bitter chocolate. (Which was weird as there were nothing made with chocolate in the Bat Burger, not after the Riddler broke the Milkshake and ice cream machines months ago.)

“Hey Mr. Signal, back for a new meal?” The Australian/Canadan man asks as he points down to the ruined bag that was supposed to be Signal’s meal. (Smoking like it got lit on fire and everyone was too lazy to even put it out correctly)

*Biggest dramatic, one full of regrets getting up this morning, sigh* “Yes please.”

(Let me know if you want the reader to be an actual adult, teenager, or a child. Also, I’m like 5’2” but I’m an adult. I feel more and more like I should make the reader a child, so please let me know)

(Also if I should do a Eddie/Venom headcannon too)

[em-harlsnow]

part 2 of my tattoo speed write, find part 1 here.

Tattoo date!!

so mickey goes in to get his tattoo with ian. he’s been for a consultation already because believe it or not he doesn’t want someone to do a shoddy job of it.

he’s drawn a cross between a serpent and dragon and shown the person doing it what size he wants and where he wants it.

ian asked him to draw his ‘MM’ tattoo as well so it’s sort of cursive, or at least has some swirly patterns ingrained into it because he doesn’t just want it printed on.

the guy doing it is just covered in tattoos and piercings. mickey thinks they look sort of cool, but the piercings look way too painful for him to ever consider it. the guy sits him down in the chair and starts running through the process, even if they already talked about it in the consultation. Ian’s sitting on a chair next to him, out of the way of the tattoo artist.

“I can see you’ve already got some ink, but i still have to go through everything.” Mickey nods. “So what you want is big, so it’ll take a couple of hours. Just a reminder: it is permanent. It’s not gonna rub out or wash off.” Mickey snorts, looking down at his knuckles and the guy laughs. “Yeah, i know you know that. I’ll draw it out first so you can confirm it’s what you want. But when we actually start just let me know any time you want to take a break. It’s also common for people to faint, so let me know if you feel lightheaded.”

He makes Mickey sign some stuff which he hardly reads because he understands that a tattoo is permanent thank you very much, and he is also familiar with the healing process and the pain.

So the guy starts to draw it out and that only takes like twenty minutes, during which him and ian just have a conversation about the next gallagher family thing. Then the guy asks Mickey to check if it’s okay, and Mickey’s pleased with it.

The tattoo artist (I’ve decided his name is Zyler) leaves the room to get the ink and prepare the needles.

“are u nervous?” Ian asks him, to which mickey rolls his eyes fondly.

“no, copper cock, i’m not nervous.” Except he is a little bit because tattoos still hurt and he’s never gotten one with this much fucking preparation before.

Ian just smiles at him and grabs his hand (on the side not getting tattooed) and mickey sighs but allows him to think he’s helping (which he definitely is)

Zyler returns and starts and yep, that fucking hurts. It’s not too bad after a while, and it’s the shoulder so it’s not close to the bone. he may have been drunk and it may have been a while ago but his knuckles hurt more by miles.

Zyler talks to them, asking about how long they’ve been married. ian answers most of the questions because Mickey’s not one to chit chat with strangers when he’s not being stabbed over and over by said stranger, never mind when he is.

Around half way through, Zyler says they’ll take a 30 minute break, because they’ve been there for like an hour already.

Ian reaches over to see how it is, and Mickey yells out.

“don’t touch it, idiot!”

“I’m not going to touch it, Mick, just let me have a look.”

Mickey twists to show him the progress and Ian smiles, telling him something like ‘looks good’.

Zyler talks to Mickey some more, asking about his current tattoos. Obviously, he’s had to take his shirt off for the procedure because even with sleeveless shirts it’s just easier to take it off entirely. Mickey tells him how he got his knuckles when he was like 14, to which Zyler looks surprised but not entirely shocked. Mickey explains how he designed the one on his forearm and got some unlicensed guy in Mexico to do it for him. He explains how he gave the ‘Ian Galager’ one to himself in prison, but doesn’t elaborate.

Zyler states that the nature of his previous tattoos makes sense considering his clearly high pain tolerance.

“I mean, i’ve been shot twice, so that probably has something to do with it as well.” Mickey laughs.

Zyler looks surprised again, because he may run a tattoo studio so he meets a lot of characters, but this is a lot.

“You’ve been shot twice?”

“Yup - all of ‘em his fault.” Mickey jabs a finger at Ian, which he snorts at.

“They aren’t my fault, they’re your fault. I was just in the vicinity.”

“In the vicinity my ass, Gallagher. Your fault.”

“You were the one who got too cocky and showed off to Kash, then got too cocky again and tried to steal a fuckin’ Grandfather clock, Mick. None of that was my fault.” Ian’s laughing and Zyler laughs too, although he looks somewhat puzzled. “Also - I was the one who got someone to patch up your ass the last time you got shot.”

“Yeah, i’m so fuckin’ grateful for your kitchen table and a grandpa with a pair of pliers”

“Better than your kitchen table with all the guns and knives on it and two dirty fuckin’ forks held by your high brothers.”

Mickey just does a little eye roll, and Zyler looks all the more intrigued as he cleans the equipment to continue.

“You got shot in the ass?” Is the bit he focuses on, too interested to maintain professionalism.

“Yup. All because of him.” Ian just rolls his eyes.

“The first one was in the leg, and both were because of your stealing habits.”

“Stealing habits- I don’t? I don’t have fuckin’ stealing habits, Gallagher. You’re making be sound like a klepto.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and smiles, squeezing his hand has Zyler starts up again.

“So… how long have you been together?” He asks, because all this lore he’s learning doesn’t sound like people who’ve been married for just two years.

“Better part of eleven years.” Ian answers.

“Jesus- how old are you two?”

“I’m 26. So, I was 15 when we first got together and he was 16.”

“Wow, real high school sweethearts.”

Mickey scoffs at the term.

“Yeah, I mean. We went to the same school so technically we’ve known each other since like elementary.”

Zyler raises his eyebrows again.

“But he looked like a dork in elementary so i didn’t go near him.” Mickey adds, voice somewhat strained.

Ian slaps his arm lightly.

When they’re finished, him and ian switch positions. Mickey’s shirt is back on, but he now has a plastic plaster-thing over the new ink. He keeps looking at it, almost touching it, and Ian slaps his hand away in warning not to.

Ian doesn’t even have to ask for Mickey to hold his hand during his tattoo, because he just does it anyway.

“Any meaning behind this one?” Zyler asks as he draws out the patterned ‘MM’ on his wrist.

“His initials.” Ian gestures towards Mickey with his head. “Mikhailo Milkovich.” And Mickey chides him for saying his full name because that wasn’t necessary, Gallagher. “He drew it, too.”

“That’s sweet.” Zyler tells them. “Usually I feel like people who get each others names tattooed aren’t gonna last, but I gotta say I think you guys might be the exception.” Ian beams and Mickey grumbles around a smile.

Ian squeezes Mickey’s hand tight throughout the whole thing, much the same as how Mickey had. He gets a matching plastic wrap and they both get some care-gel thing they need to put on each night as well as a reminder to put more sunscreen on areas with ink.

Ian waves a friendly goodbye to Zyler, and Zyler has a great story to tell his coworker Sasha, who he’s been hoping to ask out soon, when she gets back from her sister’s wedding.

[ana-chronista]

6 for bojere, because I’m a sad bojere bitch 🥲

Aren't we all?! Well, this certainly turned out quite sad, so... either I'm so sorry or you're very welcome, depending on how you feel about that!

Every now and then, during the odd spare moment he managed to snatch for himself, Bojan had wondered what a first kiss with Jere might be like if the tension between them ever snapped and gave way to something more. He’d pictured sweet, tender kisses while drifting off to sleep; triumphant heat-of-the-moment kisses celebrating Jere’s victory while working through their own arena rehearsals; and once or twice something far more filthy that makes him glad he’s not sharing his room or bathroom with anyone else. There had been times as well that he’d thought maybe it was about to happen, something in the way Jere had looked at him every now and then that made his breath catch as he wondered now?, something between adoration and desire. Even under the Finnish flag for little more than a few seconds during rehearsals, messing around for the camera, he’d caught that look and worried that his heart must be beating loud enough for Jere to hear. But then, of course, the competition had happened, the results had rolled in, and any daydreams Bojan might have had about what would happen next were catapulted straight out of the window. He’s stuck with him all night, so of course he’s right by his side out of the door once Jere signals to him that he’s had enough of the after-party with all its forced cheerfulness and commiserations. It’s then, five steps or so down a deserted Liverpool street in the early hours of the morning, that Jere stops dead and snaps. It’s not a dramatic thing, his shoulders drawing up with a shaky inhale and his eyes screwing shut, but Bojan knows that he’s seeing him collapse in on himself. “Hey, hey, Jere – ” He reaches out automatically, but Jere takes a step back. “No, is... is just – you don’t have to – ” His voice comes out small and choked in a way Bojan’s never heard from him before. He steps slowly forward, following Jere with arms still open, and this time he doesn’t shift so Bojan takes it as a sign it’s OK. Slowly, gently, he draws Jere in, folding his arms around him. There’s another shuddering breath and then Jere seems to melt into him, suddenly gripping on to him with a ferocity that Bojan can’t help but return. It takes a moment for him to realise that the front of his shirt is growing damp. Alarm rising inside him, he unwinds himself from Jere and gently pushes him back enough to get a good look at his face. Jere’s eyes are firmly shut and it’s dark, but even in the streetlight he can see the telltale glint clinging to Jere’s eyelashes and starting to trail down his face.

Without even thinking, he leans down to press his lips to Jere’s cheek and tastes nothing but salt. Of every scenario he’s imagined over the past few weeks – ever since Madrid, if he’s honest with himself – this wasn’t one of them. From the way Jere’s fingers tighten on his back, he thinks he’s registered the kiss, but he can’t be sure – it’s just as possible he’s too caught up in grief right now to really register anything. He doesn’t want this to be it. He doesn’t want this to be all there ever is. Their whole friendship so far has been a whirlwind of laughter, but that was when the future seemed so sure. For it all to come to a juddering halt, finished off with one night of tears and missed opportunities, seems impossibly cruel. “Come back with me.” he murmurs before he realises he’s even said it. There’s a pause and he thinks maybe Jere didn’t hear him, but then he looks up at him. “To Slovenia?” he asks, offering him a watery smile. It’s clearly a joke – they both know that won’t be possible – but Bojan takes it for what it is. “To the hotel. We’ll see if you fit in my suitcase.” he teases, feeling a spark of vindication when he hears Jere chuckle in response, weak and barely there but still there as he nods in agreement. The fact that neither of them add a dirty joke to the offer just shows how much this night had taken out of them, but Bojan just wants to keep him close for as long as possible, to make sure he’s as alright as possible until they have to part ways, and then most likely to spend his return flight frantically checking his summer schedule to work out the earliest chance he’ll have to visit Jere after things have calmed. They don’t say anything else as they head off into the night. Bojan keeps an arm wrapped tightly around Jere’s shoulders as though he could protect him from the avalanche of his misery, and Jere holds on around his waist as though he believes it too. Things won’t be alright by morning, and maybe not for a long while, but one day they could be, and that will have to do for now.

[paperrretro]

LIGHTSTRUCK | pt. 12

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Word Count: 2,619 words

Warnings: None

Summary: Your father accepts a position as Prince Merlin’s magic tutor, and you are unceremoniously dragged along.

(Or, pieces of your unspectacular life in and out of the royal palace, and how a certain idiotic prince somehow gets wrapped up in it either way.)

read on quotev | read on ao3

In the corner of a restaurant, huddled at a table meant for two, you slurp up the last of the noodles and lick the grease off your lips with a satisfied sigh.

Good, authentic Carmarthenian food is hard to come by on Golden Goose Avenue, but this one – this one is promising. A rich broth, fresh vegetables sliced paper-thin, spices that warm your throat like gentle coals in a fireplace. You long to be able to cook this well, but the culinary arts are more different from elixirism than one would think. (For one, the quality of food is measured by how good it tastes.)

“More?” asks the owner, an older lady who reminds you of Fay. (She owns the restaurant with her son. He’s your age, she’d told you when she brought your food. Single. Graduated top of his class at culinary school and takes very good care of her.)

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m so full.” You feel guilty for saying no, even though you’d given in the previous two times. You eye the table next to yours. “But could I have some tteokbokki to go?”

“Of course.”

After paying your bill and sitting for a bit longer to digest, you heft yourself up and grab your takeout, waving goodbye to the owner and her son before finally exiting the restaurant.

The bright sunlight scalds your eyes. Squinting against it, you look around for some signs or a directory. You’re already done with your work-shopping for the day. Maybe you could go browse for some new books.

Just as you reorient yourself and start heading towards Beauty and the Books, you hear two familiar voices coming from somewhere nearby.

“Red Shoes!”

You perk up, curious. Turning around, you catch sight of Arthur and Merlin rounding a corner, hands cupped around their mouths. Behind them lumbers a giant wooden bunny.

“Red Sh – oh,” Arthur cuts himself off once he spots you, blinking in surprise. “Hello. Fancy running into you here. Have you seen Red Shoes, by any chance?”

You eye Merlin, who only meets your gaze for a second before finding a sudden interest in the nearby lamppost. Fine. He can act how he likes, and you’ll pretend he doesn’t exist. “No.”

“Great.” Arthur sighs and slumps forward. “I take my eyes off her for just a few seconds and she up and disappears on me.”

Your brow wrinkles, and you glance around. You certainly haven’t seen Red Shoes since you got here, but Golden Goose Avenue is a big place, and you haven’t exactly been paying attention to the other shoppers. “Maybe she went into one of the stores to shop by herself. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Well, no, but you never know what could happen,” Arthur persists. “Looks like hers bring all sorts of creeps out of the woodworks.” He shudders. “Speaking from experience.”

Now, that is something you can imagine. Maybe it’s not so great to be so beautiful, you think, if all you get in return are expectations.

“I’ll help you find her,” you offer.

“Would you? Fantastic!”

Walking alongside Arthur as he retraces his steps, you keep an eye out for silky brown hair, a red satin skirt – lovestruck gazes. You hope she’s outside so you can avoid the hassle of looking in each individual shop. Some of them are charmed to keep you inside for hours.

In all honesty, it’s more likely that Red Shoes will find the three of you instead of the other way around, given the heavy thump, thump, thumps that rumble behind the two of you down the street.

You clear your throat during a lull between calling her name.

“So, what’s with the giant wooden bunny?”

Arthur looks up at you and then back at the silent creature. He reaches up to scratch the back of his head before stopping midway and posturing instead. “Just a vicious beast that I rescued Red Shoes from last night. Pretty impressive, right?”

“Ha!” Merlin says, and Arthur whips around.

“Got something to say, magic boy?!”

As the two begin to bicker, you drop back to examine the bunny again. It stares back at you, eyes half-lidded as if utterly unimpressed with the company it has found itself in. ‘Vicious’ is the last thing you’d use to describe it. If anything, it’s calmer than any of you.

You’ve never heard of giant wooden animals living near Risky Rock before. Maybe the increase in monster activity is affecting the wildlife …

“—so I’m not even gonna bother explaining women to you anymore.” A loud scoff from Arthur distracts you from your staring contest with the bunny, and you furrow your brow as he breaks away from Merlin to resume walking. You jog slightly to catch up. “C’mon, [Y/n]. Red Shoes! Red Shoes?”

From the alleyway to your right, you hear someone call out.

“Guys! Guys, I’m here.”

When you turn to look into the shadows of the alley, you can just make out the figure of a young woman in the middle of a group of knights. She waves at you.

You don’t recognize her. Judging by the looks on Arthur and Merlin’s faces, they don’t know her either, so the three of you awkwardly look away and continue on.

“That was weird,” Merlin mutters once you’re out of earshot.

“She probably thought we were someone else,” Arthur brushes it off. “Let’s go, we need to find Red Shoes.”

Merlin nods, but when you look at him, his expression is troubled. He glances over his shoulder and stops walking.

“No, the way those knights were standing around her …” he starts. “Something didn’t seem right.”

You frown. You’d be the first to list Merlin’s many faults, but poor instincts is not one of them; you’ve been on the wrong end of them too many times to count. You think back to the alleyway and wonder what he had noticed that you didn’t. Was the woman secretly asking for help? Were the knights not as relaxed as you thought they were?

Arthur groans impatiently, throwing his arms out. “They’re probably helping her find whoever she thought we were,” he responds. “It’s fine. Now, are you going to help me find our princess or not?”

Your gaze flits from one prince to the other, stopping on Merlin as he continues to look over his shoulder. His fingers twitch, antsy, and his mouth presses into a thin line before he opens it.

“Keep looking for her,” he finally says, turning around and running back to the alley. “I’ll be right back!”

Curiosity eclipsing your pride, you run after him.

“Are you ser – guys!” Arthur yells after the two of you, his voice fading with the distance. “Merlin, stop trying so hard to play hero!”

With Merlin’s stature, it’s easy to catch up to him. “Hey,” you ask once you do, clutching your bags to your chest to keep their contents from clattering around, “what did you –”

“Shh.” He halts abruptly just before the entrance to the alleyway, throwing an arm out to stop you.

You hold your tongue and swallow the impulse to push him right back. Wordlessly, he and you peek around the corner and squint through the darkness.

Oh.

The knights, who had seemed so casual before, now cluster in the back of the alleyway, their weapons raised. And though you can’t see her, you can hear the voice of the young woman from before.

(You hate it when he’s right.)

The soft crinkle of paper by your leg catches your ear, and you glance down to see Merlin holding one of his talismans. Your eyes widen.

“Uh, Merlin –”

“Come on,” he mutters, and the next thing you know, he’s striding towards the knights and flicking his fingers with quiet confidence.

The knights rattle and drop like flies, revealing the cowering figure of the poor woman you’d all ignored earlier. She’s pressed herself against the back wall. As she lowers her arms, eyes round with shock and fear, shame swirls in the pit of your stomach.

You trail after Merlin as he picks a red shoe off the ground and dusts it off. He approaches the woman and offers it to her.

“Your red shoe, milady,” Merlin says.

His voice is gentle, assuring, and soft, and it renders you speechless.

Merlin isn’t gentle. He’s arrogant, and flashy, and tries too hard to be suave. He’s a prince. He’s not a gentleman. But the way he had gone back, and the way he had stayed to speak with the woman afterwards …

Something moves inside your chest. It warms behind your ribcage, and you are startled by the strangeness of it, and strangely frightened.

“… Excuse me, miss, have we met?”

“Um”—the woman tenses, meeting your eyes before quickly looking away, and you are hit with a odd, vague sense of familiarity—“well, that’s kind of a complicated question.”

You open your mouth, only to be interrupted by the sound of Arthur yelling out for Red Shoes outside the alley.

You had almost forgotten.

“Will you be okay?” You break your silence upon your second attempt, lowering the bags from your arms.

This time, the woman holds your gaze, and she smiles a bit bigger, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay … er.” There are now two pairs of eyes on you as you free one hand to dig around in your satchel and pull out a small bottle. It’s partly to assuage your guilt, which makes you feel guiltier somehow, but, “Here, have this. It’s a deterrent. You spray it.” When she takes it hesitantly, you hastily tack on, “It’s free.”

(Oh, gods, you think. Why would you even say that?)

Merlin tugs at your sleeve, gesturing at the street with his head. “We gotta go,” he tells the woman. “Stay safe.”

You mumble out some semblance of a similar sentiment, and as you leave her, hurrying out of the darkness into the bright light, you bite your bottom lip in embarrassment and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Wow.” Merlin releases you once you’ve both turned the corner, letting out a snort that brings blood rushing to your ears. “I bet princesses would be scrambling in line for your post-rescue care.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, desperately wishing for him to just drop it, drop it. (You know he won’t.) “What – what about that weird act you had going back there? ‘Your red shoes, milady’ – I almost died of cringe!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t acting,” Merlin replies indignantly. “And it wasn’t cringey.”

“I’ve never seen you be that nice without a motive.”

He huffs up at you. “I’m actually genuinely nice, thank you! You’d know that if you didn’t antagonize me all the time.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” you retort.

“Oh, please.” The two of you begin to walk towards Arthur and the Wood-Rabbit, and Merlin’s voice takes on a smugger tone, needling at the part of you that remains young and oversensitive. “You know what I think?” he says. “I think you’re jealous that I was being nice to her.”

“… What?”

“It’s perfectly fine, [Y/n].” He casts a glance at you, a smirk stretching across his cheeks. “If you ever get attacked by a dragon or something, I’ll sweep you off your feet too.”

You balk. Heat spreads from your ears to the entirety of your face.

That little –

“Took you guys long enough!” Arthur scolds right as you’ve decided to encase Merlin’s head in an ice cube and then yours. “So, Merlin, was I right or was I right?”

“You were wrong, actually,” Merlin snarks. “There was a problem, and I took care of it. [Y/n] can vouch for that.”

“Yeah, right, you really think I’m gonna believe”—Arthur looks to you for backup, only for his face to drop when you glare at the ground and cross your arms—“believe … w-well, that’s …! Fine! Anyways, more importantly, I just saw Red Shoes on a wanted poster, and I have a lot of questions about that, so we need to find her ASAP.”

“Wanted poster?” you ask.

“You didn’t see them? The knights have been passing them out,” Merlin says. “The ones that weren’t busy harassing citizens, at least.”

He pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it, offering it to you. With distaste curling your lips, refusing to meet his eyes, you snatch it up and read the header and footer.

WANTED, it says. BIG REWARD.

Drawn in the middle of the page is, without question, Red Shoes.

“What did she do?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“I know it doesn’t say; I can read. What did the knights say?”

“Go and ask them yourself.”

“Oh, for the Lady’s sake,” bemoans Arthur, throwing his head back and turning around, “I liked it better when you two were moping. Can you just –” He looks past you and suddenly, his eyes brighten. “Red Shoes!”

He waves his arm. You turn on your heel, catching sight of who you’re certain is Red Shoes dashing towards the entrance of the Avenue. She doesn’t so much as slow down or look over her shoulder.

“Stop!”

You blink, and a gust of wind blows by as two giant men barrel past you. It doesn’t take much to figure out who they’re chasing after.

Merlin yanks your arm a split second later.

“Get on!”

“Get on what –” Realizing his plan, you scramble after him onto the Wood-Rabbit’s back. “What about Arthur?”

Merlin clutches onto the greenery sprouting from the back of the rabbit’s head. “He’ll catch up!”

You yelp as the Wood-Rabbit stands up, grabbing a fistful of moss with your right hand. Your left hand isn’t so lucky.

The creature bounds forward, and you fly several inches up into the air. With a panicked gasp, you wrap your loose arm around the next sturdiest thing and squeeze tight.

Merlin lets out a mix between a wheeze and a cough as you all but crush his lungs. “What are you doing?” he yells, trying to pry your hand from his coat. “Grab Red Shoes!”

The rabbit jumps again, bringing your heart to your throat, and you tighten your grip. “You’re the rescuer, aren’t you?!”

“How can you expect me to – just do it!”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

“I can’t!” you shriek just as you catch up to Red Shoes, throwing your arm out. She grabs it, and when the rabbit jumps, she soars upward and lands right behind you.

“I’m okay!” she yells, grabbing the moss on the Wood-Rabbit’s back with far better luck than you.

Merlin looks back, exhaling with relief when he sees Red Shoes. “Thank Morgaina,” he exclaims. The four of you sail past the Avenue’s entrance, and his attention then turns to you, his eyebrows raising as you dig your fingers into his coat again. “See, was that so hard, you big baby?”

“You’re a jerk,” you shout. But your nerves are alight, and your blood is rushing, and a sharp, wild laugh bubbles from your throat for the very first time. “If we die, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Like you could!” he says. You feel laughter rumbling through his chest, fresh and real and alive.

(Your heart jumps into your throat again.)

Behind you, Red Shoes dissolves into giggles. The adrenaline pounding in your head brings with it the hysterical relief that only comes from a terrifying experience, and your laughter joins hers and Merlin’s, cracking the air and leaving your pursuers in its wake.

This curse is going to take years off your life, you think. You find yourself not caring nearly as much as you should.

—

Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve

[nanowrimo]

How to Unstick Your Camp NaNoWriMo Project

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. ProWritingAid, a 2023 NaNo sponsor, helps you turn your rough first draft into a clean, clear, publish-ready manuscript. Today, author Krystal N. Craiker shares some tips on how to push through to the end of your writing project when you’re feeling stuck:

Camp NaNo is the ultimate test of your creativity. You push your writing skills and habits to a new level. 

It’s inevitable that at some point this month—or any time when you’re writing a novel—you’re going to get stuck. 

You’ll run into a plot conundrum, or you’ll feel creatively drained. You’ll stare at the page and have no clue what to write next.

It happens to all of us, so don’t worry. Here are some of my favorite ways to get my stories unstuck and my creativity flowing once again.

1. Go Outside

Writing is an isolating process, and writers are notorious for losing hours of the day to the computer screen. But when you’re stuck in a rut, staring at the page stressed out doesn’t make things better.

Get up. Go get a drink of water. Then go outside. What you do next doesn’t matter. You can get some exercise in or drive to the coffee shop. Birdwatch, play with the kids, splash in some puddles—you get the idea.

A little movement and some sunshine will help you feel refreshed when you sit back down at the computer.

2. Brain Dump

This is my tried and true method for NaNoWriMo. When I reach a point in my novel that I don’t know what to write (or just don’t want to write), I insert a random brain dump. 

I’ll write what I’m feeling about this scene and type out what I think the issue is. Sometimes, it’s just a bulleted list and others it’s a stream-of-consciousness flow. Here’s an example:

“I don’t know what to write here. I was going to kill off that character but didn’t. Somehow I need to get to X plot point from here. How do I do that? This is so frustrating. Now that I didn’t kill them off, I need a good reason for them to stay in the story. What are their motivations?”

If that’s all you write during a writing session, that’s okay. You were still working on your novel, so it still counts.

3. Use AI

It’s the first NaNo event since Chat GPT opened to the public and countless AI tools are popping up. AI can be a great way to brainstorm and spark inspiration.

As writers, we often get hung up on finding the perfect way to say something. But you don’t need to let one sentence slow down your writing flow.

Rephrase by ProWritingAid is a brand-new feature meant for writers like you. You can highlight any sentence, click Rephrase, and generate a new sentence. Shorten or lengthen a sentence, change the tone to formal or informal, or add sensory detail. 

Here’s a boring sentence I wrote: “Quinn entered the dark and cold forest.”

And here’s a sentence Rephrase gave me: “Quinn shivered as he stepped into the cold, dark forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth.”

I can build off that! Now I’m more excited to write this scene that was feeling bland. 

Sign up for ProWritingAid to get access to Rephrase and more than 20 in-depth writing reports.

4. Keep Going

Whatever you do, don’t give up! Getting stuck is part of the process. When you hit that creative wall, give one of these methods a try.

Your story still wants to be written, so keep writing.

Krystal N. Craiker is the Writing Pirate, an indie romance author and content writer who sails the seven internet seas, breaking tropes and bending genres. She has a background in anthropology and education, which bring fresh perspectives to her romance novels. When she’s not daydreaming about her next book or article, you can find her cooking gourmet gluten-free cuisine, laughing at memes, and playing board games. Krystal lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband, child, and two dogs.

Top photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash  

[streamdotpng]

this is chaotic sorry in advanced.

Twin anon here! I made notes while reading on my catch-up venture

Oh my god the idea that a bunch of people have to sign a contract saying wednesday can attack them if she feels threatened is so funny. Like- something had to have happened to lead to this, right? Her team realized it was the best option so Wednesday doesn’t get jailed or bad publicity but her fans just go feral anyway anytime Wednesday puts a knife to someone’s throat

Monster fucker Wednesday confirmed !!! I mean hey was it ever really doubted…

Reached monster fucker anon and that made me laugh. From a pr perspective I honestly think with what Wednesday writes her being a monster fucker would be good. I mean- that’s who she writes for, if you really think about it. Her audience is full of monsterfuckers from the normie x monster shit she writes. Sure, she has horror and what not but the base of it is still that. The question isn’t whether she’s a monster fucker it is what monster she wants to fuck her !!!

Oh my god! I got to the stalker lore stuff and I love it!!! I’m very happy to read more of it and now I have such a better understanding. I knew enid went feral but damn !!! There is no getting in the way of Wednesday and Enid. It makes me happy though that they were able to get past all of this trauma to end up in a much better place where they both can physically be together and love each other. It really speaks to how strong their relationship is like there is absolutely nothing that could ever break the two of them apart.

I have to wonder if anyone at nevermore or hell even in Jericho remember Wednesday (she’s hard to forget) and see her as this celebrity figure. Do they talk about it? Do they bring it up? Do they try to say what happened at nevermore? Are the whispers just brushed away as an old classmate wanting to hate on them? Just rumors bubbled up to ruin Wednesdays image? Or, really, would it not even be blinked at because this is Wednesday Addams after all? (some nevermore students and people of Jericho definitely have a “Wednesday Addams traumatized me” therapy group) OH or does everyone think all the old Jericho people are crazy because wednesday turned her school years into books (unknown to the public) so it just looks like they are taking what she’s written wayyy to seriously

Oh my god the short of enid in jail was heartbreaking. It cements even more how much they deserve. Like- Enid in her life has reached a state where she is so overly loved. She can play video games, laugh, smile, be jump scared and run into the arms of her *wife* at the end of it all. You did a fantastic job writing it!!!

I caught up! Only took me three hours :D

Shout out to writer anon! They’re amazing. I don’t know who you are but all the little shorts were beautiful and really well written. It’s so nice that so many people come together for fics/fandom things.

Back on my twin Enid agenda. I think my twin enid ways is just shit posting at this point. It’ll be so clear there is only one Enid and here I am in my corner tangled around in red string doubling down as if Wednesday Addams herself did not just finally announce that yes, she is married to the one and only endespair. When the Clark Kentification goes to hard smh. Doubling down by saying, you know what, actually, there is a twin and it’s just a messy triangle- No a square, because Wednesday now also has a twin. Case closed. Twin anon staying strong.

Anyway! Away from that stupidity lmao!!! Streamer enid au stays being one of my favorites! Your ideas are always so fantastic and I love thinking about these two so much. I hope you’ve been doing well!

OMYGOD TWIN ANON ITS BEEN SO LONG I MISSED YOU

i deadass thought i ran you off with how i spiralled the twin spin off into its whole thing

also no worries :) nothing wrong with some chaotic rambling so lemme read whatchu got for me

but yeah, there was definitely a scene during wednesday's early years where a fan got too overzealous and a contract had to be made bc she nearly stabbed someone

now its just normal to have these contracts if you ever want wednesday addams in your event

also clearly the monster she wants to fuck her is enid a werewolf, like cmon. Its not even a joke, the amount of wolf imagery is rampant in all her works

glad people like the stalker lore, it wont come up alot bc adult wenclair has moved past it but i wanted to use it to explain why enid is so easily strict on her boundaries esp with chat

as for if jericho and nevermore remembering wednesday? yeah no they definitely know her, with the amount of shit wenclair get up too its hard to forget the werewolf and its master staining their monuments red

they do crow abt it at times but they're so secluded its not really that noticeable. There are the occasional post from a disgruntled adult of long before but that's about it. Definitely looks like an in universe viper roleplayer though!

glad you like my short on jail enid, she's a little crazy but who wouldn't if you gone through what she did in that cell? luckily she got way better, so everything is much tolerable now :)

(also damn, you went through all that content in 3 hours?? i didn't think there was that much. Thank you so much for spending time to do so bc holyshit)

ALSO YEAHHH SHOUT OUT DEFINITELY TO WRITER ANON!! AND JD AND EVERYONE WHO HELPED ME BUILD THE AU

it was really fun :^D

ah yes, wednesday addams and her twin Viper addams. She totally has a sister who's the actor and her the author

thank you again for liking the streamer enid au so much, it was genuinely so fun building it and ot think it took like two-three months to fully build it is mindboggling!!

i'll be doing better nowadays mate, hope you have a good day aswell

[dycefic]

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it.  They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] Manager reader gets hit on/harassed

Note: IM BACK FROM VACATION I recommend you read “How it’s like to be their manager” first before this one. Gives it a lot more perspective :)

Scenario: During an away game at another school, you catch the eye of a senior there. Little did he know that you’re the Genshin team’s manager and how much trouble he just caused for himself. 

Warnings: SEXUAL HARRASSMENT but still SFW, swearing, profanities, fighting. platonic relationships.

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Lost.

It was like one of your traits. Getting lost easily. You sigh and look left and right to see if anyone was in the hallways to help you get back to the gym, or at least give you directions.

“Those guys...are gunna be worried if I don’t get back soon,” you sweatdrop a little and laugh nervously, picturing your childish team just losing it when you come back late. “I better hurry,” you mutter to yourself, pace quickening the slightest bit, just as a door to one of the classrooms slide open with a thud, revealing a spiky haired guy who stares and blinks at you. You take that opportunity to ask the guy where the gym is. 

Back at the gym where the team is doing warmups and practice receives, Tartaglia starts getting antsy and annoying. “Where’s Y/N-chan~~?” He sways back and forth. Zhongli sighs at his middle blocker, “She’ll be back soon, she just went to look for a vending machine,” They still had an hour to go before the practice match, so Zhongli wasn’t that worried. 

“Hmmm? It’s--HIT--been a while--HIT--since--HIT--she’s been back --HIT--though--HIT,” Kaeya states. Sentence cut off in pieces as he tries to keep the volleyball up in the air, his tied up blue hair starting to stick to his neck because of the sweat. Still, the team keeps practicing, up until 10 minutes later when even their captain starts to get antsy. 

“...Captain, don’t hide it, just admit you’re worried for her too,” Tohma states with a harmless laugh. Zhongli muses and finally sighs, “I have to stay here. Someone else go and look for her,” and immediately seven hands are in the air.

Tartaglia waves his hand “Me, me!”

Kaeya raises his hand “I’ll go!”

Diluc does too “I can do it...”

Albedo follows “I remember the layout of the school,”

Kazuha volunteers “I’ve got good instincts,”

Xiao gingerly picks his hand up “I’ll bring her back fast,”

and finally Tohma’s hand is high in the air, “I’ll find her!”

Of course everyone wanted to go... Zhongli decides he doesn’t want to deal with it and tells his team to go with rock paper scissors. Watching them battle it out really made him wonder how the hell he kept this team together. 

“YES!” Tartaglia pumps his fist in the air as he, Kazuha, Xiao and Tohma win the simple round of rock, paper, scissors. Kaeya, Diluc and Albedo are silently sulking, but continue their practice. “We’ll be back soon!!” Tohma waves at them as they exit the gym, starting their search on the ground floor classrooms.

Back where you were, you’d been following the guy for at least 2 minutes now. He said he’d lead you to the gym...but...it seemed as if there was less and less people to wherever he was taking you. It was the ground floor, at the end of the hallway where lockers lined both side of the walls. Suddenly the guy’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he pulls you towards him. You instantly resist, pulling your wrist back and keeping away from him. “I-I just want to go back to the gym, my team is waiting for me,” 

You steel your gaze at the guy. If he thought you were just going to stand there and take his blatant disrespect for your personal space, he was wrong. But his next move leaves you feeling disgusted, your skirt hikes up and he grins. “Stop!” you screech and twist your wrist away.

Tartaglia halts in his tracks at your familiar voice. His head turns just as his other three companions does. 

The scene unfolding before him makes. him. see. red. 

Hell, he doesn’t even see anything except the image of him punching that grin off of that guy’s face. His vision zones in on the bastard’s features, he strides over, in less than 5 seconds reaching towards the guy’s collar and slamming him on the nearest locker. “The hell do you think you’re doing?!” You’ve never seen him so angry before, but the realization of what happened has you cowering away, feeling like some dirty thing that was played around with. 

“Tartaglia, ease up!” Tohma runs to try and restrain Tartaglia’s arms. He shoots a look at Xiao who immediately turns around to get the rest of the team, particularly his captain. Kazuha strides over to you, watching as you faced away and looked at the ground, ashamed. 

Kazuha was never one to resort to violence, nor was he particularly a resentful guy. But he feels it. He feels the hatred rush through his veins, but he focuses on you instead. “You’re alright, Y/N,” he places a hand on top of your head and smooths your hair down just as the others arrive. 

Tohma is barely holding on to Tartaglia, his strength matches his fury, but Diluc finally arrives and together with Tohma, successfully pulls Tartaglia away from the guy. 

“Calm down,” the red haired spiker insists, to which Tartaglia only shouts, eyes engulfed in fury and piercing the offender with his gaze. 

“This fucker touched Y/N!” 

Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc freeze at the news. Their heads slowly turn towards the attacker. 

And now all set of 8 eyes on him are menacing, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he.

But Diluc holds his ground, restraining Tartaglia. 

Zhongli’s head turns towards your frame, seemingly meek and tiny and tears pooling around your eyes. 

Xiao hurries next to you as he arrives, the displeasure on his face was immense, specially when he starts wiping off the tears cascading down your cheeks. He grits his teeth “Don’t waste your tears on someone like him,” he knew well that you must have felt ashamed, and that your tears were not something you could control, but it was the best thing he could say. 

It was Kaeya, unrestrained and gurgling with hot anger that lifts his fist up.

But it was not his fist that connects with the offender’s jaw.

It was not his hands that pulled the offender up by his collar once again.

And it was not him who states “Do not come near her again. Don’t even look at her,” 

The whole team freezes. 

It was their captain.

The captain that was always calm and collected. Who always tried to stop fights and apologize for the inconveniences that his team caused. There’s a shiver that runs up the member’s spines at the feral look on their captain’s face. 

And then he drops the guy on the ground once again. The offender panicking and crouching backwards and away from them. “We should report it to someone,” Albedo, sensible and smart as ever, suggests. “...but throwing a few more punches in doesn’t seem so bad...” he adds and narrows his eyes at the guy.

“No, don’t. Let’s not waste our energies,” you firmly say and wipe the remaining tears away from your eyes. Kaeya moves over to your side and slides his jacket off of him and places it around your shoulders. “Okay, princess, whatever you want, we’ll just drop him off at the principal’s office and make a report,” when it really counted Kaeya’s flirtatious nicknames for you were quite reassuring. You smiled up at him a little.

Zhongli passes another glance at you, his fist is still tight next to him but he hoists the guy up and has Tartaglia come with him, since he was the one who saw everything. 

The rest of the team turns to you, with Tohma taking your hand and leading you back to the gym. “You’re okay, Y/N, we’re here,” and sure enough they keep close enough to you to fend off anyone else. Like wolves protecting their pack. You knew the chances of that happening again was slim, but seeing them so concerned and circled around you like a shield was really what you needed right now. 

“...Thank you,” you whisper to them as you arrive at the unfamiliar gym. They all turn back to you with a smile. 

“We’ll beat them to the ground at this game, Y/N, you’ll see,”

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[hypno-bun]

Rating the Ghouls’ and the Papas’ Driving skills

The ghouls

Cirrus - Cirrus is a great driver, however she does have quite a bit of road rage. If she gets cut off in traffic you better believe that this ghoulette will be screaming profanities that would make even Dew blush. She only drives if one of the better drivers (Aether, Cumulus, or Mountain) isn’t.

“Hey you!!! You mother******”/10

Cumulus- Cumulus is one of the best drivers of the group, even if she does drive a little fast. You always know Cumulus is driving when she whips out her iconic sunglasses. She also has the best playlists of the group. On a long road trip she once sang every song from the Phantom of the Opera, all two and a half hours of it non-stop.

“The PHANTOM of the Opera is there….”/ 10

Sunshine - Since Sunshine is one of the newer ghouls she actually doesn’t know how to drive yet. The other ghouls assume that she already knows how to and Sunshine is just too proud to tell them that she doesn’t know how. So when she’s asked if she wants to drive she will just make up excuses of why the conditions aren’t right. But she does bring the best snacks.

“Oh I forgot my sunglasses and the sun is just too bright out for me to see”/ 10

Rain- Oh sweet little Rain. Rain is absolutely terrified of driving in traffic. On smaller back roads he does just find, but stick him on the 105 in the middle of rush hour, the ghoul will fold quicker than one of Primo’s old lawn chairs. He hates conflict and upsetting people, both of which are basically the ingredients of a traffic jam. Rain will just freeze up right there in the driver’s seat causing his passenger to have to lean over and take the wheel.

“I can’t do this anymore!!!”/ 10

Dewdrop- Dewdrop is a surprisingly good driver. He obeys the speed limit, makes sure whoever is in the car with him wears their seat belt and looks both ways before turning onto a different street. However, Dew doesn’t actually like to drive, so he came up with a plan. The one (and only) time he drove with Aether, Dew drove like a maniac so that he wouldn’t have to drive again. Rain is the only person that Dew will drive anywhere. Even though he won't admit it he has a soft spot for the younger ghoul.

“No Dew, you don’t have to drive”/ 10

Swiss - This ghoul is not allowed to drive. He often gets too distracted by the music or other cars or signs or… well you get the point. Swiss will offer to drive to give the current driver a break but is quickly met with a “no I’m good”. Swiss doesn’t really mind though, in all honestly he much rather be looking out the window or napping.

“SWISS! EYES ON THE ROAD!”/ 10

Mountain - As stated above Mountain is one of the better drivers. He is a pretty laid back guy so he doesn’t struggle with road rage. The only problem is his height. He will push the seat back as far as the car will allow him and sometimes that isn’t even enough. You better hope you’re not the one sitting behind him because you will have no leg room.

“I need to stretch my legs”/ 10

Aether - 85% of the time you will find Aether being the one to drive the other ghouls around. In fact he taught the other ghouls how to drive. Aether treats the road laws like they are a divine message. He is often the one who has to break up any squabbles between the ghouls during long trips. Aether will also lock the car five times before he finally feels like the car is truly locked.

“Don’t make me turn this car around!”/10

The Papas

Primo - As much as we all love Primo we have to face the facts- Primo drives like an old man. He’s not a bad driver but he is a slow one. The man insists that there is no reason for him to go above 50 km/h (30 mph). There is no budging him on this subject, so you might as well just sit back and try to distract yourself.

“We will get there when we get there”/ 10

Secondo - Secondo drives fast, like ‘buckle up and pray’ fast. The number of speeding tickets this man has gotten has now reached triple digits. Everyone in the clergy wonders how he even still has his license.

“But did you die?”/ 10

Terzo - NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE. Terzo once drove his car through the front door of the church because it was “faster than walking”. Needless to say his driving privileges were promptly taken away by the clergy.

Not even allowed to touch car keys/ 10

Copia - Copia is actually a pretty good driver and his skills have only gotten better. He has a lot of experience from driving Nihil and Sister Imperator around back when he was a Cardinol. Copia really enjoys going out for relaxing drives on his day off since it allows him to get some time with his thoughts.

Grace Kelly in a convertible vibes/ 10

Nihil - Also drives like an old man but very poorly. Nihil often runs into curbs, bushes, and anything else that is unfortunate enough to reside beside the road. The man is (was) practically blind so everyone is sure that his driver’s license expired about 20 years ago and he hasn’t updated it.

“Who put that there?”/ 10

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

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-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-