#can you imagine having to fly all the way across the country just for a fucking banquet???

[moondal514]

No one asked but one of my aftg fic pet peeves is when people write the Trojans going to the same banquets as the Foxes and Ravens. They would not go to the same banquets. The banquets are region-specific and the Trojans are in a completely different region from the Foxes and Ravens

[rcmclachlan]

OKAY so this is for @dadvans specifically because he and I have spent many an evening across multiple fandoms shouting at each other about various characters and their raging pregnancy kinks but anyway.

I saw this post.

And I had this thought that Tommy's probably only ever thought of children tangentially. Like, I kind of clock him as an only child who didn't have any little kids in his neighborhood growing up. His dad's sister had three, all of them older than him, and his mom's brother had two but they lived on the other side of the country so he only saw them in Christmas card photos and once at his grandmother's funeral.

The only kids he's ever around are the ones he sees on calls, who are all either unconscious, traumatized, or somewhere in the background out of the way where he doesn't have to interact with them. He's basically that gif of Alec Baldwin trying to console a crying Tina Fey with a broom, like, "there there."

But now that his life is enmeshed with the 118, he's around kids all the time: Jee, Christopher, Denny, Mara. And he sees Buck with them—how good he is to them, how patient and kind and compassionate, how he listens seriously to them and always tries to meet them on their level—and it's doing something for him. Like, a lot.

Then, like, one evening Buck and Tommy have dinner with Kameron and Connor, and they bring the baby—who has Buck's eyes and the same shape of his lips—with them, and Tommy watches Buck like a hawk all night. Buck's a natural with Spencer: holding him like a pro, soothing him whenever he fussed, making him laugh. He's loath to put him down.

Tommy's never seen someone so suited to be a parent before. He knows Buck wants kids more than anything. Buck stops to interact with every child they pass on the street the way Tommy does with dogs, like he can't help it, like he's got a homing beacon inside him. And children gravitate to Buck like he's a Disney princess. And after watching Buck with Kameron and Connor's kid, Tommy can't stop thinking about it. About Buck and kids. Specifically, Buck and their kids. 

Tommy looks out into his backyard and can picture Buck out there putting together one of those plastic Fisher Price playhouses and running around chasing after a toddler waddling around on chubby legs and tucked up next to a crib in the guest room-turned-nursery reading The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear to a drooling baby trying to shove its foot in its mouth. A baby with Buck's eyes and mouth, and Tommy's nose and cheeks. 

SO ANYWAY smash cut to later that night and Tommy's balls-deep in Buck, fucking him slowly, doing it missionary the way Buck loves because this way they can kiss and he can see every stupid expression that crosses Tommy's face, and Tommy's staring down at him and blurts out, "You were really good with Spencer tonight." 

And Buck sort of gasp-laughs, like, "You know I love kids," and he arches up against Tommy, and Tommy's hand slides down between them so he can get a hand on Buck's cock, but halfway there he gets distracted by the feeling of Buck's belly. It's taut and toned and flexing with every thrust, and out of nowhere a little voice in his head goes but imagine what it would look like with a bump. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And then his brain kind of makes a weird popping noise and his mouth goes rogue and says, "I know you do. I know you wanna have kids. Would you wanna have my kids?"

Evan's eyes fly open wide and he sort of stutter-wheezes in shock, "What? What do you—"

But now that Tommy's started, he can't stop, and the leisurely pace he'd been maintaining loses rhythm before picking up the pace, just these deep, dragging thrusts that pull at Evan's hole on the drawback. "But I don't think you'd be satisfied with just being handed a kid. I think you'd want it to be part of you from the start. I think you'd wanna feel it every step of the way. You want to feel it growing inside you so bad, don't you, baby? I bet it's all you think about."

"Tommy, what the fuck—" But Evan's mouth is open and panting, tongue lolling around in his mouth like it's suddenly too big to control, and he starts shuddering hard enough that his bones must be rattling. Tommy can feel his fat dick twitching against his stomach, drooling so much precome the glide between them is soaked and almost too easy, and Evan's insides are vibrating where they clutch Tommy's cock like a vice.

With a grunt, Tommy gathers Evan's impossibly long legs in the bends of his elbows and folds him practically in half, wheezing like he's gutshot, "Maybe I can't trust you with our condoms anymore. Maybe you've poked holes in all of them."

"Oh fuck, that's so hot," Evan gasps, his arms flying up over his head so he can put his hands against the headboard and fuck himself wildly back on Tommy's cock, his eyes wide and scandalized, and alight with a lust bordering on violent. Even through the condom, Tommy can feel how hot he is inside, like a fever, like magma.

They've fucked a million ways since they first got together—enthusiastic, rough, slow, sweet, hard, exhausted, frenzied, grateful—but they've never fucked like this: just absolutely nasty. 

"What are you gonna do if the condom breaks?" Tommy gasps into Evan's ear, then bites it while Evan drags in desperate gulps of air and scrabbles for purchase on Tommy's back, fingers slipping in sweat. "I'd fill you up. I'd shove so much come up inside you that it'd have to take."

Evan's wailing so loud the neighbors are absolutely going to call the cops and his hole is rippling around Tommy's dick so good that Tommy's eyes roll back into his head, and then Evan starts begging like his heart's breaking, "Oh god, oh fuck, please, baby, do it, I want it so much, I want to feel it."

Through the sweat dripping in his stinging eyes, Tommy looks down at Evan, who's got his teeth bared like an animal, who's taking every punishing thrust like it's his due, even as his eyes well up with tears that spill over his temples into his hairline. He thinks of how it would feel without the condom between them, how he would see-saw his cock through wads of his own come into the dripping hot sleeve of Evan's body, every thrust pushing more and more of it into some secret place where it would stay until something took root. He squeezes his eyes shut, because if he spends one more second looking at the hungry, crazed expression twisting Evan's face into a rictus, he's going to come.

The bed frame's making metal-on-metal sounds that don't sound like they're covered under the warranty, but Tommy can't stop fucking Evan like he's trying to split him down the middle. He's going to shove his way inside until he reaches the pulp at the center and pries Evan open like a nectarine. 

"You want it?" Tommy bites out, then doesn't wait for an answer, dropping down and smearing his mouth over Evan's in a fierce, sloppy kiss, sucking his tongue, biting his lips. Their teeth clack together painfully and Evan makes wounded noises into his mouth when Tommy's cock grinds up deep inside him. Tommy fucks him brutally until he stops.

Breaking away with a choked gasp, Evan chants tearfully, "Oh my god, oh my god, come in me, please, I want you to, god, Tommy, fuck me pregnant," and then comes messily between them, and there's so much of it like there always is, soaking their skin, sliding down to get sucked up by the sheets. Evan sobs and comes and comes and comes himself insensate.

The combination of the hard clench of Evan's body and his desperate pleas touches some part of Tommy's lizard brain that feels like a one-two punch, and he fucks in and in and in frantically, buries himself inside that trembling furnace, and finally something breaks and he comes like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Gracelessly, he collapses on top of Evan, sucking in great, painful gulps of air, while Evan shivers underneath him like he's been electrocuted (again). Somehow, Evan still finds the wherewithal to throw his arms around Tommy's back and cling, pulling down on him as though he can somehow make Tommy sink deeper into him, like he never wants to not be glued together by sweat and come. Impossible. Tommy's two-hundred-and-something pounds of deadweight and his head is full of television snow. He's a husk of a man. He's probably going to die here.

Evan coughs into Tommy's hair. His voice is in absolute tatters when he chokes out, "That was a hell of a way to ask if I want kids."

From where his face is smashed into the bed just above Evan's shoulder, Tommy mumbles, "I think every single brain cell my body's ever made is in the condom right now. Good thing you're the smart one or else our kid would be up shit creek."

Evan's entire body shakes with laughter, and Tommy can't help but join in, exhaustedly lifting his head so he doesn't miss a second more of that grin. If Athena knew the kinds of things Tommy'd do for that smile, she'd throw his ass in prison for the next 500 years.

"At least they'd still be pretty," Evan says, snickering. 

"There is that," Tommy agrees, and with a grunt he forces himself off the warm, welcoming mattress that Evan's allowed himself to become to deal with the aforementioned condom. He shudders in revulsion when he slides it off and tying it is an exercise in futility—it's disgustingly full and his hands are shaking. 

Evan lifts his head to see what he's doing, then lets it drop back with a huff. "Just wrap it in a bunch of tissues."

"Is it weird that I resent wearing it at all?" Tommy finally loops it so he can tie the knot, then throws it in the direction of the little trash barrel on the other side of the nightstand. It hits the floor with the same slap a water balloon makes. Tommy skeeves a face at it.

"'Course not," Evan says, sliding a hand up Tommy's thigh, aimless. "Our kid's swimming around in there somewhere."

Tommy risks a look at his face, because there's going with the flow and then there's letting your boyfriend plow you into the mattress while he tells you he wants to get you pregnant. But Evan doesn't look mad or like he's laughing at Tommy. He mostly looks peaceful, and maybe a little bemused. 

"Uh, I'm sorry about that," Tommy says, feeling so awkward he wants to peel his own skin off. It shapes his words strangely. "I just—watching you with Spencer made me a little insane, I think."

"Don't be sorry. I think I learned something new about myself tonight, but hell if I can tell you what it is." A sly smile spreads across Evan's face like a flame on a candle's wick. "Either way, it was fucking hot."

Relief unwinds all the muscles in Tommy's lower back, and he hunkers down, slotting himself up against Evan and pillowing his cheek on Evan's chest. Almost immediately, Evan slides the pads of his fingers up and down his spine, and Tommy can feel himself rapidly approaching post-nut blackout territory.

"But kids, though," Evan murmurs thoughtfully.

"Mm." Tommy sketches a nuzzle against Evan's nipple, which earns him a laugh and a slap to the back of the head. He chuckles and settles down with a hum. "Yeah. Well, our kids."

"Huh." The smile on Evan's face is audible, and deafening.

[thehouseofurmotha]

ミミ❤*•.¸♥ 𝓜𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮 ♥¸.•*❤彡彡

Pairing: Shinso x reader

Soulmate au! I looooove soulmate au's in this one the first words you speak to your soulmate is tattoo'd somewhere on your body! There are other types of soulmates tho like more subtle ones too where you crave whatever your soulmate is eating, have a clock that counts down etc etc. Also I fear I did not have the patience to write all of the events for the sports festival so it kinda sucks 😭

Okay giving y/n a quirk in this one too

Quirk: Sakura! You can create sakura leaves, with the leaves you can control them similarly to how Hawks can control his feathers, while also being able to create things out of your petals.

Downsides: migraines from over use, as well as the more you push your quirk the weaker the items you make become. (Imagine this is present mics voice guys)

Warnings: Sports festival arc 😔, swearing, angst

Summery: Meeting your soulmate goes happens in the most unexpected way.

You fight shinso in the first round instead of Midoriya

"THE SPORTS FESTIVAL?" The class all shouts in unison, after what they had just went through, they weren't sure if this was the best idea.

"Yeah, Aizawa-Sensei are you sure that's a good idea after the USJ attack?" Kaminari is the one to voice everyone's concerns.

"That's a valid concern Kaminari, but the Sports Festival is the most watched sports event across the world. Before the development of quirks people watched the Olympics, but now if you enjoy watching competition you're watching the U.A. sports festival. It's not something that we can just simply cancel. Security will be increased tenfold compared to other years." This seemed to satisfy your classmates concerns. Trusting whole heartedly what there teacher has to say. "You guys will have the next two days to prepare. Don't take this lightly, pros from all over the country will be watching and scouting."

And with that he dismisses the class, allowing you and your classmates to go change into your uniforms and work on training.

You work on allowing yourself to propel yourself through the air with your petals. You forge them to make wings of sorts on your back. It works pretty well, but flying in the air is definitely something you'll need to get use to. Ending back on the ground due to an overwhelming nausea caused from motion sickness.

Aizawa throws a bottle of water at you, it hits your arm causing you to look up at him. "Smart way to use your power, being in the sky can give you many advantages while doing hero work."

"Thank you Aizawa-Sensei." The water quickly helps you feel better, and the praise from your teacher puts a smile on your face. Knowing that you're on the right track gives you the motivation to keep going.

As the school day finally ends, you're tired but there's a feeling of satisfaction knowing that all your hard work will be put on display at the School Sports Festival. Not just any school either, U.A. the top hero school that you somehow managed to get into. You honestly don't really remember how you did it, you do know that you scored extremely high on the entrance exam. This entire school year has felt like a fever dream.

The only thing that you think could make it any more feverish, was to meet your soulmate. You knew that this was the age where quite a lot of people ended up meeting their soulmates, and you desperately hoped it would be the case for you. Being able to grow up with your soulmate, would be a blessing. With this, there was also that voice in the back of your head that you never would meet them. It's definitely not an unheard of thing, some people just never do find their fated partner.

There were many different ways people found out who their soulmate was. You were lucky enough to have the most obvious form, the first words your soulmate will ever speak to you is tattooed on your body. Yours is on your side specifically. The words aren't the most romantic, but they bring you comfort saying, 'so you have an impressive Quirk huh?, I've never seen anything like it'

You still desperately craved to meet your soulmate. And as you drifted to sleep that night, you thought about them. And who they might be.

The day of the sports festival had finally arrived. You sit in the 1-A waiting room feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. You really wanted this to go well for you. To have the pro hero's see you and scout you for internships. It was such a exciting idea. They announced that the first event would be an obstacle course. With your ability to fly this should be a piece of cake for you.

As they announced the start, it suddenly dropped to frigid temperatures and you watch as multiple people get Frozen to the ground. You managed to react quickly enough to get yourself in the air before it manages to reach you. As you get into the sky you see 3 different people ahead of you.

Many people may be competing to the winner of the first event, but all you wanted to do was stand out, but not enough that people would think you're too much of an enemy.

You manage to make it through the first round coming in 5th place and you're more than happy about it. You take the time between rounds to allow yourself to breath, you hoped that you hadn't used to much power flying for the entirety of round one. But whether you did or not, you would keep pushing through.

Midnight announced that the second round would be a cavalry battle. Depending on what place you came during the obstacle course, determined how many points you were worth. Other than the first place winner, who had a million points. Every person higher than the last had 5 points added. So the person in 42nd place had 5 points and then it went up from there.

Since you had come in 5th place, you were worth 185 points. You were so glad that you hadn't fight so hard to be in first place. Part of you pitied Midoriya for the large target that would be placed on his team.

At some point, while you had been lost in thought. A certain purple headed tired looking guy had started walking towards you. You snap out of your thought to see him standing in front of you. You hadn't seen him around before, so you figured that he wasn't in the hero course class 1-B. Maybe a support course student by the look of it.

"So you have an impressive Quirk huh?, I've never seen anything like it." As the words come out of his mouth a burning sensation starts in your side and spreads throughout you. You freeze, staring at him in shock. You realized that the moment you spoke, he would know who you were. He would know that you're his soulmate.

Before you can even think you start running away from him. You want to turn around, to speak to him but your body won't let you.

A second later your snapped back into reality, crashing into someone's chest. You look up and realize that it was Todoroki. You immediately move backwards and start muttering out apologies.

"Oh, it's okay y/n. Are you okay?" He looks at you with what you think may be concern.

"Oh yeah I'm okay!" You give him your normal positive attitude, you couldn't let what just happened distract you.

"I was coming to find you anyways, it seems you don't have a team so will you be on mine?" You give him a small nod in response.

"Of course, I promise to do my best." With that you smile and are warned that the cavalry battle is starting soon.

Somehow in the matter of 15 minutes, your team managed to get the one million headband and win. You honestly feel as though you had blacked out, still distracted by what had happened earlier. But you did your part, and so did the rest of your team resulting in the win.

The last part of the sports festival was finally upon you. The one on one individual battles. You were horrified to find out that you would be fighting against him, who you found out is named Hitoshi Shinsou. Your soulmate, who didn't know he was your soulmate.

Well your lost in thought, Ojiro comes over to you. In your time at U.A. you and him had started to become friends.

"Y/n you cannot speak to him while fighting." He looks so serious as he says this.

"Uh why?" You're genuinely puzzled at this, not that you really wanted to say anything to him.

"His quirk is brain washing, the second you speak to him he can get you to do anything he wants. That's how he got me to join his team, that's why I dropped out." You feel bad for him, knowing how excited he was about the sports festival.

"Thanks for the heads up Ojiro." Part of you wants to keep this in mind, but all you want to do is talk to him.

"I know this may sound selfish, but beat him for you and me." And with that he walks away leaving you to prepare yourself for your battle.

Internally you start to freak out, not knowing if you could do this. And suddenly all the time has passed, and you're standing in the arena waiting for midnight to tell you to start. Your heart beats so fast you think it might beat right out of your chest.

"Let the battle begin!" Midnight calls out and everything suddenly feels so much more real. This is actually happening, and there's actual pro hero's watching your every move.

"So your the girl that ran away from me earlier? Well there's no running now." There's a smirk on his face, like he's over confident.

You remain silent carefully creating petals but keeping them out of sight from him.

"Hm? Still nothing to say, what a shame. Of course a pretty face like yours has nothing to say. No opinions, no nothing just meant to sit there and look pretty." You know he's just trying to get into your head, and you hope that if he knew he wouldn't be saying this things.

Once you feel you've made enough petals, you quickly shoot them out to restrain him. Pushing him closer and closer out of bounds.

"Ooo look pretty girls got a pretty quirk. Fitting huh." You take a good look at him. Studying his features. You can see on his face you knows he isn't going to win. Not if he doesn't get you to speak.

"You know you're lucky, to have such a hero like quirk. People like me, who don't have physical type quirks what are we supposed to do?" You can head the pain in his voice, you can feel his pain. And it starts to cloud your judgment. But you keep pushing to get him out of bounds. He is certainly fighting back.

"So this is how it's going to go? You're not actually going to fight me? Fine, be a coward."

This almost gets you to respond to him. But you know you can't, you have to win this battle. It feels like your future career as a pro hero depends on it. You need to stand out, to let people see you.

Finally you get him right to the edge. And for some reason, you start to cry.

"What the fuck are you crying about? Does the pretty girl feel bad for not giving me a chance to put up a real fight." And with that you push him out of bounds and he looks at you with hatred.

You take a deep breath, feeling it go all the way through your lungs, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

You immediately see the shock in his eyes as he clutches he's side.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You knew this whole time you fucking knew. You- you fucking hid this from me. And you tell me now of all fucking times. You're genuinely an awful fucking person. I wish you had just kept your mouth shut." The longer he rants the louder he gets and you're sure the whole stadium could hear him. You start to sob harder as he starts to come towards you. He doesn't look like he wants to hurt you but it's clear he's not happy either.

Before he can reach you he's knocked out by Midnights quirk. You fall to your knees sobbing and begging his unconscious body for forgiveness. Quickly you brought away from the prying eyes of the audience by Midnight.

At some point you ended up in a room with both Midnight and Aizawa.

"Alright kid, do you know why he got so angry? I mean I get losing sucks but that was a different type of angry." Aizawa, your teacher is the one who breaks the silence.

"It's my fault- it really is- he's- he's my soulmate and I figured this out earlier before the Cavalry battle began. I couldn't break myself to speak to him after he spoke to me first. So I ran away. But then- after the match ended I couldn't stop myself- I didn't mean to speak to him- but I did- and it's my fault.." You stare out the ground, not brave enough to look up at either Aizawa or Midnight. Some hero you'll be.

"Alright kid, I'm only gonna say this once so you better listen alright?" You just give a small nod to let him know you're listening. "You were put in a rough spot, you found out during a time where you were already under a load of pressure. You didn't know how to handle it, sure you didn't go about it in a great way. But you're a teenager." He sighs, you look up with him and is met with tired eyes. Just like his.

Midnight chimes in, "It's just fate hun, this is how you were supposed to meet. And I know it may be scary now but it'll work out." Aizawa just grunts in agreement.

"Thank you.." It comes about barely a whisper but they hear it.

"He should be awake soon, we're only on the second match of the first round and you'll be last in the second, so you should have some time to talk to him if you so please." With that statement from Midnight, her and Aizawa leave the room. Leaving you alone with just your thoughts.

Before you have time to think about it, your legs are bringing you to Recovery girls office where he was being held.

You pace in front of the door for 5 minutes before gaining the courage to knock. You hear a gruff 'come in' and you know that he's awake. You take a moment before carefully opening the door.

"Oh. It's just you." He says it like he's upset, but you can see the relief on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just, I didn't know what to do." You look at him, begging silently for his forgiveness.

He sighs, "I get it, I guess. You were in a tough spot and I probably would have done the same. I shouldn't have freaked out on you."

"It's okay, I deserved it."

"No, you didn't I was out of line. I have a lot to work on if I ever want to be a hero."

"I think we both do." As your gaze meets his again, suddenly you realize how everything has changed.

"Thank you though, for not actually fighting me. I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if I had caused you pain." He looks up at you, with his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting atop of them."

You give him a slight nod in response not knowing what to say. "You know, I always wondered what scenario would cause my soulmate to be telling me they're sorry we had to meet like this. But I guess I get it now."

"Your words to me were so much better than mine. You deserve better, and I'll spend my entire life trying to be the better you deserve." His eyes widen and it looks like he might cry.

"We'll do it together." And then everything in the world feels right. Like this is exactly where your meant to be.

Alright chat I fear I did not eat this one up 😔 but we thug it out. I've spent to long on this trying to figure out out so I give up 😞😞 please forgive me if it's bad 🙏 as always my requests are open and happy reading! <3

[reminiscingtonight]

Surprise Visits (Pt. 2)

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

Word Count: 676

A/N: Everyone thank the reign girls for this

Part One

[WOSO Masterlist]

Getting traded while at camp is never a good feeling. 

You’re in the middle of trying to convince Emily not to put dye into Rose’s shampoo bottle when the notification goes off. You don’t think twice about it, or about the way your phone keeps buzzing until you put it on silent without even sparing it a glance. You don’t think about it when the two of you are strolling into a film session, when everyone’s looking at you with wide and pitiful eyes. 

“Did I run over Wilma without knowing?” you whisper to Sonnett, ignoring the snicker and elbow it earns you. 

“Are you okay?” Rose asks instead, ignoring your joke. 

You cock your head at her, confused. ��Why wouldn’t I be?”

It makes everyone else uneasy how unbothered you seem to be about the whole thing. 

Sure, knowing you have only a week to pack up your life and move across the country after finishing up in Paris is never the best feeling, but knowing what is waiting for you in rainy Seattle is a much better one. 

The next day when the pictures go up, that’s when the confusion settles in. 

“When did you go down to Seattle?” 

It’s clearly you in the picture, signing the contract, smiling at the camera with a jersey with your last name on the back, touring the stadium. You shrug but say nothing else.

So maybe you’ve known about this trade for a while now. And maybe you took some time to explore the city before you left for the farewell tour. There’s already an apartment with your name on it, perfect for two, and in a nice part of Seattle. 

It settles in then that you never quite got around to telling your friends about this. 

“Oh right… surprise?”

When Seattle announces Ana’s contract days later, Lynn tracks you down before punching you right in the arm. “Ditching us to go be with your wife? Uncalled for.”

You roll your eyes before wiggling your bare hand at her. “No ring, no wife.”

“Yet,” she corrects. “Repeat after me, ‘no ring, no wife yet’.”

When all is said and done and you’re flying to Seattle with a new medal in tow, Ana picks you up at the airport. 

You’ve already told her she didn’t need to, but your girlfriend is nothing if not a gentlewoman so she’s already waiting by the carousel when you get out. 

You all but collapse into her arms, soaking in everything that’s your girlfriend as she tightens her arms around you. There’s a warmth tingling from your head where she’s planted a kiss, and you tighten the grip you have on the back of her shirt. If it was up to you you’d never move, but eventually the exhaustion of nearly a month long tournament catches up to you and you pull back to start wheeling your luggage towards the exit. 

Before you can take another step Ana’s ducking down. 

Your eyes flutter close when she presses the softest kiss against your lips. You sigh out happily, not missing the smile on Ana’s face when the two of you finally pull apart again. 

“You ready to go home?”

It’s not hard to imagine the messy clutter of shoes that will be strewn by the front door, and the inevitable way Ana will get annoyed and chuck them into the closet. The two toothbrushes that will be sitting side by side on the bathroom sink, one in each of your favorite colors. Your king size bed will no longer be too big, forever warm and always smelling like your favorite person. Of course you’re going to need a new place to hide the ring that’s currently sitting in the bottom of a box back in New York but that’s something you can figure out on the fly when you finally get everything moved in. 

You can already imagine just how nice of a life you’re going to have here in Seattle with Ana. 

And all of that sounds… perfect.

You grin. “Let’s go.”

[itsjusthockey]

Flyers - Jamie Drysdale

I love him so much and I wish him all the success in the world

I’m also trying not to hate cutter gauthier

I hope you enjoy, I like this one

Request and talk to me, pls and thx

It’s late in the evening when the shrill ring of your phone cuts through the silence of your bedroom. You glance at the screen and see your boyfriend calling. It’s not a FaceTime, and it’s always a FaceTime, so you’re confused, and your heart skips a beat as you answer him.

“Hello?”

It’s silent on the other end, but you can hear him lightly breathing and shuffling around.

“Jame?”

Before he even utters a word, you feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere. There is a reason he didn’t FaceTime, and there is a reason his usual warmth and cheer is replaced by a heavy silence. As the seconds tick by, you can sense his hesitation, and an unsettling sense unfolds in your stomach.

You hear him take a shaky inhale, hold it for a second, and then he breathes out.

“They traded me.”

His voice is raw, and it trembles with unusual vulnerability. In a single second, your heart shatters into a million pieces. Before you can even fully comprehend what he said, tears are pooling in your eyes, and your hand is clasping at your mouth.

“They what?” You ask.

“They just told me. I’m going to the flyers. They want me there tomorrow.”

Finally, the news settles in. Your boyfriend was traded. Jamie was fucking traded.

A million thoughts rush through your head. Jamie has to move. He has to leave Trevor. He has to pack up his entire life in a single night and fly across the country.

Silent tears are streaming down your face, and you realize you’ve stayed quiet for way too long. You also know you need to get a fucking grip. This isn’t about you, and you need to get your shit together because he needs you right now.

So, you take a deep breath and calm the fuck down.

“Are you okay?”

You hear him shuffling around again, probably packing up all his things. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and you patiently wait until he’s ready.

“I don’t know. It hasn’t really set in yet. Doesn’t feel real.”

A sharp pain thumps through your chest at his words. He continues.

“I’m trying not to feel anything, honestly. I’m trying not to think about everything I have here.” His voice breaks. “But it’s been my home, and I don’t want to leave.”

You finally hear him break, and you would pay any sum of money to be able to teleport to him now. It wrecks you that you can’t be there to hold him during this time. You can’t begin to imagine what he’s feeling. You know he’s thinking about everything that Anaheim has given him. You know he’s

recounting the countless memories made on and off the ice, the shared victories and losses, and the deep bonds formed with teammates.

“Jamie.” You start, then stop.

“Yeah?” He asks softly.

“This absolutely sucks, and I’m so so sorry.” You pause. “The ducks are the biggest idiots in the world, and they don’t deserve you.“

Jamie's breath catches on the other end; it’s a mixture of a chuckle and a sob escaping him. You smile a bit because your words seem to reach through the distance, a small lifeline in the whirlwind of emotions he’s currently facing. He takes a moment before responding.

“Thanks, babe. It means a lot to hear that right now.” He sighs again. “I just never expected this, you know? Everything’s changing so fast. I love it here, and it kills me that I won't be part of it anymore.”

You nod, even though he can't see it. It’s as if the very fabric of his life is unraveling, and you wish you could weave it back together. But all you can do is sit here and listen to him and try your best to be his anchor in the storm of uncertainty.

“I wish I were there with you, help you pack, give you a hug,” you say miserably.

“Me too. he admits, another sad sigh escaping him.

You sit there again for a couple of minutes, listening to him pack and offering your presence. You finally hear him close to the phone again, and he breaks the silence.

“I'm scared (Y/N). It’s a whole new team. I don't want to let anyone down, especially you,” he confesses.

You want to punch him. He knows better. Not once, ever, has Jamie let you down, and you sure as hell know that he never will.

“That's enough of that, Jame, you could never let me down. Nerves are normal, but I also know the player you are. You’ve got this, and I’ve got your back. Always.”

He lets out a quiet okay and quickly hangs up the phone. You’re confused for a brief moment before his FaceTime pops up. You answer in a heartbeat, and a wide smile takes over your features as you finally get to look at your boyfriend.

He looks tired, and his eyes are a bit red, but he has a soft smile, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

For the next couple of minutes, you talk it out. You discuss the logistics, the challenges that lie ahead, and the uncertainty of the future. You do your best to hype him up, and as the logistics conversation draws to a close, a somber calm settles over the two of you. You can finally sense a shift in his tone, a quiet acceptance mingled with some determination.

“We are gonna figure this out, won't we?” Jamie asks a trace of hope in his voice.

“Yes. Besides, I like the flyers. Way better than those losers in Anaheim,” you assure him.

Jamie chuckles a bit, and then a hilarious thought crosses your mind.

“Oh my god.” Panic laces your voice, and Jamie furrows his eyebrows.

“What?”

You start laughing, suddenly very happy.

“You’re gonna be with Gritty!”

You can’t help but roll over with laughter, knowing your shy-as-hell boyfriend is going to be on the team with the most infamous and chaotic mascot ever. You can’t even begin to explain how giddy this makes you, and Jamie lets out a small groan but begins laughing with you anyway.

After you settle down, wiping the new happy tears away, you smile a wide smile at him again.

“You know, I’m still on break. Maybe I should come down and be there for your first game?”

Just like that, your boyfriend is back, and the smile you’re so in love with takes over his features.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I can think of no better way to end my break than being with you.“ You beam at him. “Besides, I have to scope out the team. Let em know that they have a new hotshot player who has the hottest girlfriend ever.

He barks out another laugh at you, but you know he agrees one hundred percent with your statement.

“God, I love you,” he says, the words carrying the weight of the world.

“I love you too,” you respond, “This is honestly exciting, Jame. You have great things coming. I can feel it.”

[babydollmarauders]

GOODBYE — JOHN MARINO

part of the Maraschino Cherry! AU

y/nmercer

liked by john.marino97, dawson1417, and 6,927 others

y/nmercer new jersey, you made dreams come true. you gave me a few last years of living with my best friend, and you brought me my prince charming of a fiancé. i can’t thank this city and this team enough. i truly don’t have the words to describe how grateful i am for everything that jersey has meant to me, but it’s time for the next adventure. utah, i’ll see you soon…. please don’t take away my margaritas 🩵

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john.marino97 as taylor swift once said “everything you lose is a step you take.” just think of this loss as the first step in our personal journey, shortcake. this is the first in a long line of things we have to do on our own, and i’m so glad to have you by my side.

y/nmercer when he listens to and understands taylor swift 😩🤭 I’M GONNA PROPOSE

john.marino97 i think i already did that? what do you think i did when i got down on one knee and gave you that ring?

y/nmercer idk? i thought you just had a really weird way of gifting a promise ring or something

dawson1417 call me every day and tell me all about the mormons and life in utah! i’m gonna miss you, but i’m so happy you found your happily ever after and have someone to take on life with ❤️

dawson1417 even if that someone is john

john.marino97 we’re gonna be brothers one day, and then you’re gonna wish you were nicer to me

dawson1417 @/john.marino97 nah

y/nmercer i love you, bubba 🤍 thank you for being my best friend and allowing me to follow you around for the past 22 years. life will be so much different without you by my side

lhughes_06 i’ll miss you, mom! i hope you have a good time in utah! i’m gonna miss you dropping off cookies after losses and doing my curls

y/nmercer my first child <3 i love you so much, hun! i’m gonna miss you so much but i’ll see you later this summer and when we play NJD!

user92 this must be so hard for her :( i can’t imagine being with your twin from the womb to 22 and then having to move across the country just like that

user16 i mean, i’d assume she knew the risks of being with a hockey player and that it meant she could have to leave

user92 @/user16 that doesn’t make it any less hard for her

jackhughes gonna miss ya short stack! don’t get shunned out there in utah!

y/nmercer you’re not that much taller than me! just for that, i will not miss you

jackhughes oh no, you’ve wounded me! what ever will i do?!

y/nmercer fall in a hole, slut

jackhughes right back at you, whore

y/nmercer @/john.marino97 JOHN! LOOK WHAT HE CALLED ME!

jackhughes tattletale. you can dish it out but you can’t take it?

y/nmercer i’m just a girl

nicohischier we’ll miss your presence here in NJ, but i can’t wait to hear all about your new life, y/n!

y/nmercer please bring me back so many swiss treats as a going away gift!

user04 new jersey is gonna miss john’s talent and your kind heart and vivacious energy! i hope utah treats you guys well!

ehaula utah stole my babysitter! good luck out there, i’ll miss you both!

y/nmercer i’ll fly back. don’t ever underestimate what i’ll do for your children, erik.

nicolelaud i’m gonna miss my wine wife so bad 🍷🤍 i’ll pour a glass in your honor, babe. it’s been a privilege to be your friend and watch your relationship blossom beautifully. i’ll still see you in a few weeks, right?!

y/nmercer thank you for welcoming me into this team dynamic with open arms! i’ll miss you!! and absolutely! no chance i’m giving up a jersey bachelorette party!

user78 THIS IS HOW I FOUND OUT JOHN IS LEAVING US?! I HATE MY LIFE

vitacz15 i’m so sorry to hear about this! but i know you’ll do great there!

y/nmercer i miss my daily dose of vitek! thank you, VV!

curtislazar95 i’ll miss *adam hamway voice* THE MARINO’S! hope you thrive on the west coast! luke’s curls will miss you too

y/nmercer i’m a marino?! 🥹

curtislazar95 well yeah, soon enough!

naterbastian take care of my boy out there in the beehive state! i know he and you are gonna do great things!

y/nmercer awww bass! don’t worry, i’ll take care of your husband! 🫶🏻

jesperbratt don’t be a stranger ❤️ you have a home here any time. we’ll miss you both lots

y/nmercer oh bratt-man, don’t make me cry again 🥺

user30 the way john hasn’t posted a goodbye but she has 😭

user6 well, john never posted a goodbye when he was traded from the penguins either, but considering this seems to be the first NHL player she’s dated, i assume this is her first time having to leave against her will from a city she’s grown to call home, so it makes sense that she posted a goodbye

tmeier96 good luck on the west coast! i’m just a text away if you ever need anything, it was a pleasure to get to know you

y/nmercer just stab me with a dull soup spoon already, it would hurt less

john.marino97 @/y/nmercer no.

[leviathans-watching]

Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!” 

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is. 

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles. 

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team. 

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever. 

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all. 

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition. 

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy. 

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole. 

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game. 

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd. 

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night. 

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period. 

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else. 

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down. 

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off. 

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line. 

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be. 

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious. 

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?” 

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.” 

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action. 

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour. 

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season. 

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh. 

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received. 

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away. 

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like. 

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear. 

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly. 

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.” 

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?” 

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.” 

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.” 

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.” 

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?” 

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back. 

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that.  If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time. 

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.” 

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.” 

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.” 

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over. 

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos. 

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side. 

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze,  you lean over to Diavolo. 

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.” 

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!” 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man. 

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.” 

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?” 

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.” 

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.” 

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once. 

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with. 

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.” 

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!” 

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…” 

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished. 

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks. 

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.” 

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly. 

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully. 

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?” 

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.” 

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.” 

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.” 

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.” 

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.” 

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.” 

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs. 

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.” 

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!” 

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.” 

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously. 

“I think it was.” 

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win. 

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.” 

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.” 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?” 

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication. 

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.” 

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.” 

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him. 

“A jersey?” 

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring. 

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.” 

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.” 

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh. 

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?” 

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet. 

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together. 

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day. 

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.” 

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?” 

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options. 

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.” 

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.” 

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story. 

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up. 

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved? 

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous. 

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you. 

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes. 

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you. 

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread. 

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol. 

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it. 

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.” 

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room. 

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit. 

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car. 

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?” 

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.” 

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.” 

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare. 

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.” 

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car. 

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.” 

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.” 

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are. 

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.” 

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.” 

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?” 

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.” 

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.” 

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.” 

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich. 

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.” 

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.” 

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile. 

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward. 

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground. 

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet. 

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have. 

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating. 

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course. 

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills. 

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board. 

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?” 

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh. 

“Way awesomer than the Chols.” 

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?” 

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at. 

“Of course I did.” 

“Was it impressive?” 

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.” 

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice. 

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs. 

“I barely even got to talk to you!” 

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…” 

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off. 

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool. 

 “Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest. 

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.” 

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up. 

“Sweet talker.” 

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.” 

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows. 

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle. 

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?” 

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs. 

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.” 

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins. 

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.” 

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.” 

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.” 

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?” 

“Play hockey.” 

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.” 

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.” 

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close. 

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.” 

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.” 

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.” 

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.” 

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?” 

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.” 

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.” 

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him. 

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table. 

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles. 

“Good. I want to treat you.” 

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.” 

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?” 

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.” 

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.” 

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car. 

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch. 

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.” 

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.” 

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head. 

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.” 

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building. 

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.” 

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face. 

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.” 

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.” 

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win. 

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.” 

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong. 

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?” 

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.” 

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself. 

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward. 

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away. 

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it 

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back. 

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction &lt;3

MC: Liar. 

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it. 

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.” 

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold. 

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows. 

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!” 

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.” 

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.” 

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him. 

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look. 

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.” 

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest. 

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily. 

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on. 

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?” 

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head. 

“Not threatening, just informing.” 

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.” 

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile. 

“Anything.” 

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.” 

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings. 

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.” 

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding. 

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.” 

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up. 

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?” 

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.” 

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup. 

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed. 

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.” 

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs. 

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder. 

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet. 

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.” 

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo. 

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers. 

“What?” 

“Team merch, really?” 

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.” 

You can only shake your head. 

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos. 

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.” 

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way. 

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?” 

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.” 

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.” 

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation. 

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice. 

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now. 

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them. 

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief. 

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her. 

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.” 

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister. 

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?” 

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.” 

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.” 

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.” 

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.” 

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?” 

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.” 

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.” 

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?” 

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?” 

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better. 

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in. 

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!” 

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?” 

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing. 

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.” 

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?” 

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.” 

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.” 

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.” 

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate. 

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod. 

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new. 

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner. 

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.” 

“You’ve been watching?” 

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.” 

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.” 

“Oh, I can imagine.” 

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.” 

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.  

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had. 

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting. 

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena. 

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure. 

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around. 

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols. 

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on. 

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back. 

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city. 

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder. 

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game. 

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild. 

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long. 

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed. 

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him. 

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy. 

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling. 

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.” 

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly. 

“I know.” 

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[maxsimagination]

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗜𝗜 - 𝗹.𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗽

summary: coming out to someone is always difficult, but lauren makes it easier.

• part 1 • part 2

-> i do not condone homophobia in any way, shape or form, this is just an imagine and is not reality

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 my coming out to lauren and i'd gathered up the courage to tell the whole team. they'd been more supportive then i ever could've imagined, lauren telling me a simple 'told you so.'

it was december now which meant winter break and returning to families and home countries for the holidays. all the girls were excitedly talking about their plans to see relatives, while i was sat in the corner, quiet.

my family had inadvertently gotten the confirmation they wanted, or not, when i posted a '23 photo dump on instagram. there was a multitude of photos from throughout the year, but one in particular showed me and lauren out at breakfast with some of the team.

we were sat next to each other and had somehow gotten our hands on a rainbow flag. alanna was sitting across from us and thought it was cute to take a photo.

my ma and my sister had messaged me almost immediately after the photos were posted. i expected the harsh words from my ma but my sister had tears welling in my eyes.

not to say the message from my ma didn't hurt, but it was the onslaught from my sister that sent me over the edge. that was roughly three weeks ago and i hadn't spoken to anyone in my family since.

"yn are you good?" lauren sidled over to where i was sat on the beanbags we had in the city common room. she joined me and sat on the one next to me.

"mhm, i'm okay."

"you going back to australia for christmas?"

i knew someone would ask me about at one point or another, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"no, i don't have any plans. just staying in the uk, i guess."

lauren knew something must have been up, because of how normally bubbly and sweet i was. but this me was different, depressed even.

"so your not going to see your family?"

"no i haven't spoke to them in almost a month."

"oh, shit. why?"

"they shunned me after they found out i was a lesbian."

that statement shocked lauren, she'd never thought that they'd ever go that far to reject me.

"did you want to come with me? spend christmas with my family instead?"

i was flattered by the offer and everything in me wanted to agree, wanted to go and have a nice christmas with her and her family. but i didn't want to be a bother.

"it's okay, i don't want to impose. thankyou for the offer though."

"nonsense, you've already met my family and they love you. i'm pretty sure my mother likes you more than me."

there wasn't much i could say to that, let alone to refuse the offer. so i gave in and agreed to come with her to see her family for christmas. we had one last training session of the year before we were off the hook until next year.

when the time to fly down to north walsham came, i was a bundle of nerves. lauren took my hand and gave me a soothing smile, assuring me i was not a burden and it would be a pleasure to have me over. i blushed at her comforting words, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

the flight wasn't too long, only a couple of hours.

once we arrived, lauren's sister amy was there to greet us. we hugged and she led us towards her car to drive us back to their house.

"lauren sit in the back, i'm talking to yn."

amy left lauren to hop into the back seat with a cheeky grin, lauren feigning hurt but hopping in anyway. i chuckled at the sisters' antics and climbed in the front.

we finally got to their house after a laughter-filled drive there. both kevin and julie were outside, waiting to greet us when we pulled in.

"it's so great to see you again, yn! come in so we can catch up."

kevin was less chatty but happy to have me nonetheless, giving me a hug and pat on the back. we all traipsed inside, me and lauren putting our bags in lauren's room.

we spent some time just settling in and catching up, before lauren pointed out that there was a christmas market on in the town and we should go. i thought that was a great idea, agreeing to go down with lauren. julie and kevin said they'd stay back to cook dinner for everyone and amy also declined as she had something else to do.

it was just me and lauren that were going but i was happy with that. the two of us walked down since it wasn't that far from the house. there was fairy lights strung up all along the streets and the stalls selling various things scattered down the roads. it was so pretty i took a picture to upload to my story.

as we walked down the markets i was looking around in awe, we didn't have much like this on the town where i was from. occasionally mine and lauren's hands brushed up against each other, our pinkies intertwining.

i felt the butterflies in my stomach again and looked over to lauren to see her glancing down at our hands.

since coming out to her she'd been more openly affectionate. it was like some part of her had to be touching me, whether it was a hug or just resting her arm around my waist, she was never that far away.

i wasn't complaining, i couldn't deny that i felt something there for the blonde englishwoman but i was just to nervy to say anything.

however i was considering just asking her, telling her how i felt. the setting of the markets made it feel so romantic, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. so i waited a little, until we were stood under a piece of mistletoe while buying sugar cookies.

"loz, look up."

i spoke to her softly. she looked above us and spotted the piece of greenery. looking back at me, she grinned.

"do you want to? we don't have to."

"no i want to."

and with that she leaned forward to connect our lips in a slow kiss.

it was way better than anything i've ever felt before. her lips were soft and sweet, moving against mine. we pulled apart slightly breathless and rosy-cheeked.

"does this mean you can be my girlfriend?"

"yes lauren, i can be your girlfriend."

i laughed slightly at her way of asking but agreed nonetheless, it was a long time coming.

[jackiequick]

I’m Already Gone | Top Gun Maverick Fanfic 📄

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw & Jennifer Mitchell

Summary: It happened in a blink, it happened in a flash, as that night ran cold and old as she had ever seen. What happened that night the papers were pulled? Heartbreak.

Timeline: Post Top Gun—Pre Top Gun Maverick

Characters mentioned: Pete Maverick Mitchell, Tom Kazansky, Carole Bradshaw, Dane Bradshaw, Austin Mitchell and etc

Song inspired fic: Already Gone by Sleeping At Last

——

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

In tears.

Sore throats from all the screaming and crying at 3 in the morning.

But it did.

Here’s what happened…

…it was a cold decision based night at The North Island. Pete was out pulling an all nighter, Austin was at Dane’s house doing god knows what and Jennifer was alone. At home, getting calls every few hours from her father to see how she was doing.

To be honest, she was doing fine. It was a rare occasion for the house to be quiet that late at night, usually there was some kind of noise being heard across the halls. Either from the boys or one of her friends.

But tonight, it was pure silence. You can hear the windows cracking from the drips of water outside, the sound of the wooden floor creek every once in a while, and the rumbling of car engines driving past the streets right outside her door. In the living room, she can hear it all too well.

It felt like a odd film she was placed in but she didn’t expect to be thrown in.

Her one thoughts were about Bradley. She knew he was sorta stressing the past few days about getting into the academy and proceeded in his dreams of becoming a pilot. She knew from stories that he always wanted to fly, just like his father Goose and unofficial uncle Maverick.

But Jennifer also knew the concept of events and consequences coming into that role. Deployment across the country, flying into dangerous territory, long distance trips from home and safe housing wasn’t always the best for pilots. Usually in secure parking areas but still.

A part of her wasn’t sure if she was ready to give that up yet, not having Bradley around everyday.

She didn’t know if she wanted that for herself either. She loved the idea of being in the air, cool tricks and taking a knowledgeable look at the world from the cockpit of your plane, it was a rush you can only imagine. But she loved being on the groundwork for things too, surrounded by family and friends. Teammates.

Jenny decided that whatever happens with that paperwork, she will be happy for him. It will hurt to see him leave her to go fly out into the world but she loves him either way…

Jennifer cleared her thoughts turning down the lights on the first floor and headed upstairs to her bedroom, free falling onto the mattress as she climbed underneath the covers, deciding to get some rest. It was late. Midnight. And she was still awake. So laying her eyelids shut for now, she curled up against the pillows and slowly nodded off.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

~~~~

The next moment happened in a flash, gently being awakened by the sound of footsteps on the first floor and small grunts. She couldn’t tell if that was her father’s footsteps or not, but just for precaution Jenny swiftly escaped the bed and grabbed the baseball bat from behind her door as she walked downstairs.

Even though she was groggy from sleep she held the baseball bat in her grip tightly, ready to swing at the figure she found in the kitchen sipping a glass of water. It confused her as she squeezed her eyes a couple of time, trying to wake herself up swinging a hit at the tall fellow who ducked.

It took Jenny a second to realize who it was, hearing a gulp a second later.

“Bradley?!” She asked, lowering her bat a bit.

“Yes? Who else do you think it is?” He exclaimed, sounding annoyed.

“S-sorry..w-what in heavens are you doing here it..it’s 2 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry I’ll be gone and out of your hair soon.”

“No? You came here for something..what was it?”

“I was looking for you and Maverick.”

“Why? What did i do?”

~~~~

Even with our fists held high

It never would have worked out right, yeah

We were never meant for do or die

~~~

Instead of saying a word, Bradley handed Jenny a slip of paper that seemed to be a bit wet and crumbled at the corners. It was at the same time, she noticed the look on his face. His hair was wetter than expected, patched of droplets over the shoulders of his shirt as his sweater lay on the chair next to the kitchen table and he was wearing sweatpants.

He had small bags under his eyes. His eyes were dropped onto her hands, as if he wanted to hold her.

To tell the truth, Bradley was craving from physical touch from her in the smallest way, shape or form. He has been a wreck all of a sudden after recycling that letter from the bin at home, that he grumped and threw away. He didn’t want to believe the words said on that paper, nor the fact that his suspicions were correct.

But a part of him told him they were.

He watched as Jenny read the letter, her expression changing every once in a millisecond from shock to sorrow all wrapped into one. He noticed her biting her bottom lip for a moment, as if she’s trying to take it all in with a scoff. A hint of a ever so tiny half smile was tugged at her lips, it was quickly changed but it was there.

He saw it.

Finally after a deep breath of silence waters, she looked up at him, her fingertips playing with the edges of the paper.

“I’m sorry Bradley..” She said in a soft whisper, as if she was gonna wake up a dog within the house, “..I know how much you wanted to fly..”

“I can’t do that now..” He replied with a soft haze voice, looking away for a second.

“You can always apply again, right? I mean, dad can pull a strings to have your application be seen early or maybe Ice do it?…”

“No. Don’t even mention Maverick.”

“Brad, honey, it’s not the end of the world. You will get other chances..i know you will.”

“Not with Maverick around.”

“W-what?”

~~~

I didn't want us to burn out

I didn't come here to hurt you now

I can't stop

~~~

He sighed and scoffed, “Jen, baby, don’t play dumb with me right now. You may be saying all of this but i don’t believe you. We both know how much you want me to stay here, we discuss it before!”

“That was a while ago! Yes it will take some time getting used to..b-but I wouldn’t stop you from flying!..wait you think i had something to do with this?” She asked, soften her gaze at the question.

“Did you? I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you pulled a stunt like that to protect me.”

“No. No, no, no! I-i would not do that. You can trust me on knowing that I wouldn’t go behind your back for that.”

“Jen..you are the closest person here to know if something that was up..d-did you have a feeling this would happen?”

“..I honestly don’t know. But you don’t get to come into my house in the middle of the night and accuse me for such a thing.” 

“Did you know that Mav would do this?”

“I..no. H-he would’ve pulled my papers too..”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he does or, he already did it and you just don’t know it yet! Maverick Mitchell has always been shown to be my biggest supporter but all of a sudden he pulls something like this? And the fact that i don’t know if i should believe you right now is what ticks me off.”

“Bradley wait..”

“I..you didn’t think i saw that little smile as you read the paper? Huh?!”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

Jen wouldn’t admit it but she did smile reading the whole thing, she didn’t want him to leave just yet especially at this young of an age. Tears slowly being welcomed into the corner of her eyes came despite on request.

But she wanted him to fly, enjoy his life even if she left to pick up the pieces at home.

“Okay, maybe i did smile, huh? Cause i don’t want to see you go or worse, have you slip away from my fingers the second you get the green light to do so?!” She yelled, as her temper started to reach up her back.

“I’m not going to leave you!” He replies back, with furrow eyebrows.

“You don’t know that! Austin’s planning on flying like dad, Dane wants to go into engineering planes and high tech jets! You’ve been ready to fly past the 7 seas since you were 8…i just thought maybe..maybe this was a sign that we will be alright..that i don’t have to say goodbye, yet..so yeah, blame me. Go ahead!”

“..blame you?”

“Mhm. Blame me..since you need someone to yell at..”

“Jen..i don’t..I don’t know what to think, okay? B-but I’m..The Navy is my dream, i always wanted to fly..but I can’t wrap my head around not knowing if I actually really got a chance to be there..and i want you there..with me.”

“Then why have you been so busy and in a hurry to get out?..but..not once have you mentioned about it was gonna be us there..just you. You alone, Brad.”

“It always occurred to me that you would be there..”

“It occurred to you that i would just be there with you?! W-what I didn’t want to?..i love you, Bradley, i do and I understand why you feel this way about everything but..there has to be something else right? Why are you in a hurry to get out?”

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

Bradley was silent at the question being repeated. He looked down, as his eyes finally watered. The sound of his sniffles could be heard as clear as day.

She can only guess the reason.

It’s been a less than a hectic year since his mother died. Carole Bradshaw death recked everyone. Leaving a painful scar in the family’s overall built, where it still felt a fresh opened wound.

She was like a mother to Jenny. Treating her with as much love, care and compassion than anyone can ever imagine. Hugs and kisses among all of the kids as her smile can light up the whole night sky.

And her laughter bringing souls together in a lifespan, just wanting to dance around the room. From her sass, to her wit and gossipy cheer.

“..my parents.” Bradley simply said, almost choking on the words.

“..Goose and Carole..that’s why you fight to hurry and fly..to chance that wish to be there..in the there with them.” She answered, looking away.

“Is it bad..? Is it so bad i want to touch the clouds like my dad did and come home to your waiting arms?”

“No..it’s not. It’s a dream but..I don’t know how long i can take waiting for you to come home..w-what if you don’t come home? A-a-an-and i get a knock on the door from a solider with—”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, Jennifer. It’s not gonna happen! I will come home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take the risk to see the world and be a pilot. You know that right?”

She walked away from the kitchen and into the living room as she sighed, “Here we go again..”

“What?” He asked, followed behind her.

“Again with the whole pilot talk! I get that, you want to be like your father but there is more to life than just flying Bradley!”

~~~

Looking at you makes it harder

But I know that you'll find another

That doesn't always make you wanna cry

Started with a perfect kiss

Then we could feel the poison set in

Perfect couldn't keep this love alive

~~~

~~~

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

~~~

He raised an eyebrow and scoffed loudly, “You’re serious? If it was anyone else, i would say you’re possibly right but you’re father is Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. If anything you know better than anyone how important that is!”

“And what if it isn’t?!” She spin around and yelled back, with a glare having enough.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“No, you don’t get it. I understand you very well and i love you for everything you stand for..but what if it’s short lived? I can’t watch you die, Bradley..I understand you’re mad at my father, you’re more than hurt and you might not trust what I’m saying right now but a part of me knows I’m sure..”

“..w-what are you saying? That your right here and I’m wrong? Cause i do get it! And I’m more than mad right now, I’m furious but whatever happens next..that’s my decision to make, Jen. I need you to know that.”

“..okay. I’m just trying to protect you Bradley but I won’t be there when you yell in my dad’s face tomorrow for pulling your papers..i want you to be okay.”

~~~

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~

At this point, her eyes were patchy with tears and her nose was reddish as she watched his face changed.

They were both on two different ends of the slightly aggressive disagreement. The two each had their reasons and doesn’t matter how many times they had to repeat them, until they got a point.

It was late.

They have been screaming and yelling at one another.

Their eyes were puffy and throats were dry, sore even.

Yes, they both wanted to touch the sky from the seat of their cockpits but they their reason weather or not to do so. Of course Jennifer wanted to fly just as bad as he did. But her fears and experiences from the family held her back.

The long distance trips, deployment, people she cared about dying young and old, and the navy not always living up to their truth.

She looked down at her necklace Bradley gave her months back on Valentine’s Day as a present, taking a deep breath removing it from her grasp and watching his face as she did.

Bradley’s eye furrowed in fear, annoyance and grief. His eyes flickered between every single way but meeting her gaze. He gulped, as the finger he used to point at her dropped and hesitated to raise again.

He shook his head, blinking twice walking forward in strives as his face said it all. He reminded himself at that moment how much love and respect he had for her, realizing how he basically bashed her more than once.

He didn’t mean to be this way. But watching her remove that single piece of jewelry he gave her the year before his mother died, the one was supposed to be used as a promise to her.

Well, it hurt.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

I'm already gone

Already gone

You can't make it feel right

When you know that it's wrong

~~~

“W-what are you doing? J-Jen don’t. Please, don’t.” He said, standing in front of her glancing at the clock, “..i love you. Don’t do this.”

She sucked in a breath and held out the necklace, “I know you do. But I can’t hold you back. As much as we love one another, and will always be in each other’s lives..right now, we can’t.”

“I want you!”

“You want to fly.”

“I want both!”

“You want to have it all but it can’t happen right now. I can’t be the one holding you back..”

“Jen please..I’m begging you. I’m sorry, we can work it out!”

“Not with your anger and pride taking over..”

“T-think about this! You’re making a mistake here, Jen. I can’t let you be gone.”

“I’m already gone.”

“You’ll regret this!”

“And so will you.”

~~~

I'm already gone

Already gone

There's no moving on

So I'm already gone

Already gone

Already gone

Ooh, oh

Already gone

Already gone

Already gone, yeah

~~~

Bradley didn’t say another word, closing the gap between them as he looped a finger underneath her chin and pressed a kiss onto her cheek.

He felt a salty tear run down her cheek and reach his fingertips wiping the other way. The other hand took the necklace from grasping palm, fumbling with the chain for a moment.

Jennifer wrapped her around his middle and pressed her face against his neck huffing, holding back a sob as she ran her fingers across his golden brown curls.

She kissed his cheek and then forehead gazing softly into his eyes. He half smiled, leaning into her touch and hummed.

She didn’t want to say goodbye either, but she could bare to witness this any further than what thoughts appeared in her heard. The hint of his cologne entered her nose as she sighed deeply.

Both didn’t want to pull away from another’s light grip.

~~~~

Remember all the things we wanted

Now all our memories, they're haunted

We were always meant to say goodbye

I want you to know

That it doesn't matter

Where we take this road

Someone's gotta go

~~~~

Bradley was the first to pull away noticing the white letters on the coffee table, one being addressed to her as he picked it up.

He signaled for her to open it. He knew she didn’t like to open mail late at night but he couldn’t leave without knowing she got in or not.

Either way, he will comfort her.

She hesitated for a moment, shaking her head but her actions speaker louder than words as she ripped opened the letter to expect something different yet familiar.

Her eyes ran across the page, handing it to Bradley as she gasped, hovering a hand over mouth. He read it quickly, eyesore scanning the sheet of paper to only sigh.

Same as him. She didn’t exactly get in.

The only thing he did was held Jenny in his arms, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a sob she was holding back. Tears rolled down his own face, baring his face into her hair mumbling a few things as they both sucked onto the couch.

No words were said, just soften noises escaped their lips. Resting her head against his chest, as he hummed staring at the wall.

Once again, their throats were sorely lacking as their faces remained dried up with fallen tear stains.

3 am.

They have been doing this for an entire hour.

Closed to almost 3:29am when Bradley stood up from the couch, resting a blanket across Jenny’s body.

Her eyes were nodding off as she whispered a soft, “..i love you..”

“I love you too..” He replied pressing a kiss to her forehead, “..get some rest.”

“You too..please?”

“I will..”

Without a second later, he walked out of the house with a small sigh and looked up at the sky that shined only a few stairs.

She reached over to the small lamp turning it off as her eyelids finally dropped, nuzzling against the throw pillow with a slight sigh.

~~~

And I want you to know

You couldn't have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I'm already gone

~~~

~~~

~~~

-> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic tell me what did you think about in the comments below.

-> Remember to like, share and reblog for more stuff like this!

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[potatoparakeet]

Some of my meet the Robinsons headcanons 🫣 cause my head is full of em. A lot of these r kinda worldbuildy but some are Robinson family based!

-I'm a believer that Franny went to school for bio-engineering (and music ofc) and put all of that knowledge towards her frogs. Maybe she even had a successful lab of her own before finally succeeding with the band, and left it to conduct full time.

- I don't think Lazlos paint gun would shoot random art, but rather Lazlo would have to manually program a painting into it somehow, and trial-and-error test it until it looks perfect.

- Billies train system through the house is Uncle Joe's primary mode of transportation across the bigger stretches of the estate.

- Along w the hover-chairs, there's a Robinson brand of wheelchairs and crutches that can fold/unfold to travel through the travel tubes and be sensed by the bubbles!

- Robinson industries is obviously the top of the line when it comes to tech products, but there are also other companies that sell similar products. The Samsungs to Cornelius's Apple.

- Future City/Todayland is Not Named That. I don't have any better ideas but both of those ain't it

- Nonetheless I think it became the biggest city in the country just due to it being the first to take on Niels cityscaping inventions. It's kind of his personal playground in that sense

- In that breath I also think there's many places in the country that just Aren't that advanced. I imagine public transportation has majorly improved but in many cities life hasn't changed all too much.

- I think it'd be interesting for Robinson Industries to have people who just HATE the things they do. Look at those instant-buildings and tell me the construction working community didn't freak out.

- imo 2037 (from what we see) seems technologically advanced in the way that people would be able to return to art- but the transition period was definitely rough as people started losing jobs to Neils tech.

- I don't know if Niel would make many robots to be sold commercially- not with the problem of AI vs humans.

- In tiny text of a concept art in the art book you can read that Cornelius created "Robinson™ Blue/Green fuel cells" which are the "world's first renewable clean-burning fuel source" source.

- If we accept that as canon and assume all the new flying cars were fueled with this energy source, we can pretty much assume ground cars went extinct pretty quickly, unless other car manufacturers and gas companies were still allowed to produce.

- Probably by 2037 the use of gas has been banned, leaving only the souly electric ground cars, which probably weren't enough to run whole businesses on. With flying cars as the new norm, roads were likely torn up.

- I don't imagine the whole car switch thing went over well with the public either tbh. I would not be happy if Some Guy told me I couldn't buy gas anymore and had to take the airbus.

- I could have sworn it was canon that Niel had won at least one nobel peace award. Does anyone else remember that

[mugloversonly]

@steddieas-shegoes I loved your ficlets about the boys after a mutual ending. But as much as I love sad boy hours...I can't stand my boys staying sad. So I wrote a happy ending that I hope you enjoy.

rating: G

if you see a typo I probably saw it and didn't fix it. Enjoy!

Steve groaned as the ringing phone woke him up. He glanced out his window and saw it was barely sunrise.

He ignored the phone for a minute until he heard the machine pick up. The voice he has been longing for for six months came through. "Hey Steve, it's Eddie." Steve shot off the bed and ran towards the phone his heart racing. "I know it's a little out of the blue for me to be calling, but I" Steve yanked the phone off the hook, interrupting whatever he was going to say.

"Eddie, hi" Steve exclaimed breathlessly. Eddie gasped and went silent. "Sorry, the phone woke me up". Steve glanced at the clock and was relieved to see that it was still early.

"Oh, shit. Sorry I forgot about the time difference."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad to hear from you." Steve said suddenly feeling shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked. Steve recognized that tone. He can perfectly imagine Eddie pulling a chunk of hair in front of his mouth.

"Yeah, I was actually going to call you today. Looks like you beat me to it." Steve smiled as Eddie let out a small chuckle.

"Great minds and all that. So I was wondering" Eddie began before pausing to take a deep breath. "You can totally say no and I would understand…I mean I get it after everything…I just…well I wanted to know if you'd want to maybe…" he trailed off. Steve blinked tears from his eyes and took a leap.

"Would it be alright if I came to a show?" Steve blurted. Eddie was quiet on the other end. IF it wasn't for his breathing, Steve would have thought he hung up.

"You want to?" He breathed.

"Of course. What are the dates and times of all your upcoming shows?" Steve asks. Eddie rattles off a few places. He has a show tomorrow in Miami. Would it be weird for Steve to go all the way to Miami last minute? Probably. Fuck it. He's waited for long enough.

"There's the show in a month in Chicago. We can meet up then. But, I'll have a ticket waiting for you at all the shows just in case". Just then someone called Eddie in the background. "One sec!" He shouted back. "I have to go" he sounded reluctant. Like if they hung up, he would never see Steve again.

"I get it. I'll see you soon okay, Eds?" Steve whispered the nickname. Eddie's breath hitched.

"Yeah, soon" his voice was thick like he was trying to keep from crying. Steve smiled fondly. His Eddie was always quick to tears. "Bye, Stevie. I…I'll see you soon." He promised. Steve heard another shout and then all he heard was the dial tone. He took a moment to collect himself before making his way to the stairs. He had a concert to get to.Steve smiled fondly.

~~~

Eddie paced the floor of the green room. Steve wanted to come to a show. In fact he asked Eddie! He wasn't sure if Steve would even want to talk to him, let alone see him again. He knew they both agreed to this separation, but he worried Steve would grow to hate him. He's never been more glad to be wrong. At least, he hopes he's wrong. Someone wouldn't fly last minute just to say they hated someone. Right? And someone wouldn't fly half way across the country for someone he could see in a month. Either way, he expected to see Steve in Chicago. A PA knocked on the door to give him a 5 minute warning.

And to tell him that Steve picked up his ticket. Eddie froze. He hadn't expected Steve to come all the way to Miami. Eddie shook his head and directed the PA to have Steve escorted to the green room after the show. He also made sure to tell her to bring Steve a cup of his favorite mint tea and to tell him that Eddie would be there as soon as the meet and greets are over. She nodded and went on her way.

He made his way to take his place with the band. Before they could go on he blurted "Steve's here." The rest of Corroded Coffin stared at him in silence. They couldn't say anything before they got their cue to begin. All four boys made their way to the stage. Eddie in the center.

"Hello, freaks of Miami!" Eddie shouted into the mic. "You ready for this shit?" There was a roar in the crowd as he hit his first chord. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted Steve. His beautiful Stevie looking just as out of place as usual with his polo and light wash jeans. He tried his best to keep his gaze away but his eyes were always drawn back to him.

He felt like he spent the whole concert looking right at Steve. Maybe he had.

All in all, the show was great. They got a huge round of applause and gave two encores. By the end, Eddie was jittery. He wanted to get this meet and greet over with. Ever loyal to his fans, he didn't let on to anyone that he was in a rush. The only people who saw how off he was was the band. And they didn't comment.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he made his way to the green room. He took a deep breath before he knocked twice. Then he opened the door.

Standing on the other side was a sight from his dreams. "Stevie" he whispered, breathless.

"Hey, Eds." Steve replied with a shy smile. Tears filled Eddie's eyes and before he could think, he launched himself into Steve's arms. Steve caught him with barely a stumble, his jock reflexes coming in handy. He couldn't say anything as the tears poured down his face. He felt his shirt getting damp and knew Steve was crying too.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." Eddie cried. "I shouldn't have left, I should have waited." Steve gently pulled back and cupped Eddie's face.

"No love" he whispered as he wiped Eddie's cheeks. "I should have come with you. I was scared. I thought it would be less scary to stay then to leave. But I was wrong." He pulled Eddie back into the hug. "I missed you and I have never felt fear like I did while we were apart. I'm ready to follow you anywhere." He promised.

It was Eddie's turn to pull back. "Are you sure?" He asked. Steve smirked and pointed to the corner. Eddie looked over and saw two huge suitcases and a large dufflebag. He met Steve's eyes and smiled.

He couldn't hold back another second. Eddie caressed Steve's cheeks before pulling him in for a sweet kiss. Steve's lips were soft against his and as they moved with each other, Eddie finally felt at home. It was a chaste kiss, until Steve licked the seam of his mouth. Eddie opened to grant Steve access and he didn't waste his opportunity to kiss Eddie breathless. After a few minutes Eddie reluctantly pulled back and rested their foreheads together.

"Come back to my hotel?" Eddie asked. They had a lot to talk about, and the venue's green room was not the place.

Steve nodded and they took a cab to Eddie's hotel. Once there, Steve asked to use the shower and Eddie pointed him in that direction. As he waited he sat on the bed, his chest felt lighter than it had in months.

When Steve stepped out of the bathroom, Eddie took his turn. As he got in the shower, he saw Steve's shampoo on the shelf next to his. He let out a wet laugh and reached for it. Somehow he knew that Steve had used his shampoo too. As he washed his hair, Eddie knew. Things would be alright. His dream was finally a reality.

Fin

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #10 - The Epilogue

summary: after signing with the best team in the country, satoru asks you a question on new year's day. (read the rest of the volleyball captain!gojo au here!)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: post-highschool time skip, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and parties,

note: happy new year everyone! i hope 2024 brings you love, happiness, and success. hope you like this little epilogue <3

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated :))

“I didn’t think it was physically possible to have this much glitter,” you huff, pulling a stray golden streamer from the top of your head and discarding it in the trash bin. The dustpan and brush take a break on the dining room table and you lean against the back of the couch, picking at a loose thread on Satoru’s old high school jersey. “Next time, we’re having the party at Suguru’s.”

“You don’t need to do all of this, babe,” your boyfriend reminds you from the kitchen, taking inventory of the catering leftovers and copious amounts of alcohol covering your marble counters. It was still early enough in the morning that girls were walking around the building’s lobby with their heels slung between their fingers. “I’ll have the cleaners come by in the morning to pick up all of that.” 

“There’s candle wax on the floor, Satoru. I don’t even know how that ended up there without setting off a fire alarm,” you point out and he nods in agreement. “I’m just glad we have hardwood. This would be a nightmare to get out of the carpet.”

“It doesn’t need to be a nightmare at all, if you just let the cleaners take care of it. But, if it makes you feel better, remember that I moved all the cleaning supplies to the cabinet in the hallway.” Colorful tubes of glass carefully clank together as he repositions them on the shelves of the wet bar, sweeping confetti and more streamers off of the marble with the back of his hand. When he’s done reorganizing the remaining bottles, he neatens the stack of square polaroids and then promptly messes them up again, spreading them across the counter like a dealer with a deck of cards. “Can you believe we had this many people over last night?”

“I’m still in disbelief that we have this place, honestly,” you admit, slinging a leg over the side of the couch and rolling over the back, landing in the living room of your shared penthouse with Satoru. It still surprised you, what Olympic gold and brand sponsorships could buy, even with the tall ceilings and stunning views of downtown Tokyo. It brought a lot of acquaintances that had the nerve to call themselves your friends, most of them whose names you couldn’t remember. The important people were still in your life, though, Suguru with his highschool ASB sweetheart and the former first years all sharing a flat. It wasn’t a bad life, to say the least. “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and you’ll just be a figment of my imagination.”

“Believe it or not, I have the exact same nightmare.” He flops down next to you and pulls you closer to give himself more space, absentmindedly chucking a few throw pillows to maximize the space. “All these fluffy pillows and expensive wines seem a little too good to be true sometimes.”

“You’re an Olympic athlete, sweetheart. Fluffy pillows and expensive wines are pocket change for you.”

“For us, you mean. Nothing is just for me anymore,” he corrects. Ever since he signed on with the most successful pro team in the country and you earned your degree in sports management, everything had been you and him. Though it was new territory for both of you, it still felt familiar in some ways as you served the same roles that you did during high school. When Suguru joined the team, it only became more comfortable and the light-hearted banter helped keep you grounded in such a competitive atmosphere. “Speaking of, we should consider getting married.” Your eyes fly open after fluttering shut against his chest and you sit up, stick straight. 

“What did you just say?” You look down at him in shock, only to be met with a shit-eating smirk. 

“You know exactly what I said,” he says quietly.

“You can’t joke around about those kinds of things,” you murmur as you fall back into your original position, poking a finger into his side for good measure. “It’s not nice.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“Why? Why now, of all times?” 

“You expected me to have a much larger proposal,” he muses and you feel your face become warmer. In your defense, he was always known as the flashy one, the one who brought you bouquets of flowers when you were in class or sent your study room catering to make sure you’d eaten. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of marrying Satoru before. You just expected a much grander gesture than mentioning it while you procrastinate cleaning up the sparkly mess in your bathtub. “Disappointed?”

“No, just…surprised,” you say slowly and he hums thoughtfully. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“About marrying you? Since we won Nationals, obviously,” he states like it was written all over your bedroom wall in Sharpie. “But, if you’re asking about proposing while we’re lying on a glitter-covered couch at five in the morning, I thought of it just now. Call it delirium.”

“Hmm,” is all you can muster up as a response.

“Hmm.” He hums in the same tone, looking at you curiously. “So, what do you say?”

“You actually wanna marry me?” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes melodramatically in exasperation. 

“I can’t believe you just asked that,” he says under his breath, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. “I cannot believe that you just asked me that.” You follow his movements until you’re sitting with him, shoulder to shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Satoru. I just…get doubtful at times.”

“Doubtful that I love you?”

“Doubtful that you’ll let me stay with you through all of this.” Your hands gesture vaguely at the high ceilings and the shining floors, out at the stretch of Tokyo’s skyline and the infinite horizon beyond it. “I’m scared you’ll find someone else to share such a lavish life with–”

“I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I wanted to spend my life with anyone else, sweetheart. I’ve got this ring from my sock drawer to prove it.” Your jaw hits the floor and he starts laughing, your body frozen in place but screaming at you to see if he’s right as he fishes something from his pocket. “I wanna clean up glitter and bottles with you on New Year’s day for the rest of my life,” he promises, taking your hand and sliding an elegantly simple band on your left ring finger. 

“I can’t believe you propose to me in the most unassuming way possible,” you chuckle, admiring the way the morning light catches on the metal. “You didn’t even get down on one knee.”

“This is the private proposal to make sure you say yes,” he reassures you with a grin. “The public proposal will be much more extravagant.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait. Happy New Year, Satoru.”

“Happy New Year, my love.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[rainintheevening]

West, Part I

Maps stretched out

The day after Peter ships out, the maps start appearing on the wall of the Fifth form common room at St. Maurice’s. Europe as a whole at first, then Italy, the Mediterranean, Greece, Germany, France...

He takes them home with him at the end of the term, Edmund Pevensie does, scatters them over his (and Peter's) room, mixed up with newspapers and letters in Peter's dashing handwriting.

Too many miles to count

He tries to find closer maps, more detail, tracing his finger across mountain ranges and down coastlines. He spans the entire Allied line with his thumb. He'd never felt the world to be so big before, never felt so small. Narnia had been such a small country. How long would it take to sail around the Cape of Gibraltar? How long would it take to fly to Sicily?

Sometimes he does the math. Sometimes he doesn't.

Let's just say we're inches apart

Remember watching the stars with Oreius? How you'd sketch them with your finger so carefully? How we'd lie out in the grass with Era and Philip, in silence sometimes, for hours? There were so many stars out there in the country. Some nights I'm lucky to see stars here. But when I do I imagine you seeing the same ones, mapping your way the way to well, your way to me. Sometimes I swear I can feel you beside me in the dark, little brother.

He lies in Peter's bed, letter in his hand, falls asleep with paper between his fingers.

And even closer at heart

For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

Even as his pen moves over the paper, he finds his lips moving too, a begging murmur, mixing with the summer rain heavy on the roof.

And we'll be just fine

He laughs as Lucy places the crown of daisies on his head, and kisses her cheek. He rubs Susan's aching feet as she sits on the couch and reads aloud to them. He fingers his little silver lion against his collarbone, and smiles through the steam rising off his coffee.

Another pin pushed in

The maps on the wall grow a forest of colored heads and tiny flags, and anyone who wants war news or any better understanding of the progression of the European theatre goes to the Fifth's common room.

To remind us where we've been

He takes a map down to the stables sometimes, unrolls it on the table in the harness room, sits patiently as Master Gringham pores over it, searching for the boy who rode his horses like no one else, all of them trying to coordinate themselves.

The horses miss you, he writes to Peter. Have you had a chance to ride recently?

And evey mile adds up

He lies alone in their room, catching the faint murmurs of his parents downstairs, and he can't remember the last time he cried on Christmas, but he's doing it now, hot salt water on Peter's pillow, as Bing Crosby croons on the wireless in the girls' room down the hall.

Please, God, please let him come home safe, please let him be happy, please.

Leaving its mark on us

I was grieved to hear of your wounding, brother, but truly grateful it was not more serious. I wish I could be there, to make sure you were getting proper care and treatment. Be careful, please. But don't be a coward. I'd rather a dead brother, than a coward. But don't die. You're not allowed to die without me.

He means it, every word, that's why he doesn't cross any of it out.

And sometimes our compass breaks

Twelve of them dead, and I alive, and I don't know why, Ed, but I don't know if I can do this, I can't. Not alone. I'd forgotten how much this hurts. I only knew half their names, and I know Badger had four little kids back home, and I don't understand.

I don't understand.

And our steady true north fades

Snow lies thick on the moor, and Ed struggles to open his eyes in the morning. His feet are heavy, his mind moves slow, and he can't get warm. He sits as close to the fire in the common room as he can without setting his clothes aflame. Some mornings he sits with his hand on the black leather cover, but he doesn’t open the book.

We'll be just fine

There's a black and white photograph folded in with the thin paper, and there he is smiling up at them all, officer's cap set at a jaunty angle, shirtless with a bandage on one forearm. Peter hugs a scruffy looking mongrel dog close, hand rubbing the pointed ears, and Ed smiles back at the living shadow of his brother.

We'll be just fine

Warm spring sunshine splashes over Ed's face, and he leans on his spade, brushes mud off his hands, and surveys the dark turned earth of the school's Victory Garden, listens to the first formers laughing as they fling dirt clods at each other.

We'll be just fine

Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations he hath made in the earth.

He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; he burneth the chariot in the fire... Peter writes.

We'll be just fine

Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge, Edmund answers.

I know that we will

"I miss him so much," Lucy says, and Edmund wraps his arm around her shoulders as they walk, remembering how he closed his last letter with those three words.

I just know that we will

He kneels by Peter's bed, his bed now, and the maps hang all round on the walls, he is surrounded by everywhere his brother is and was and could be, as he bows his head and the evening prayer comes weary and steady from his lips.

They used to say it together.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Brotherhood (2)

Directly following the events of Double Helix, Danny enrolls in Bayville High school and joins the Brotherhood of Mutants. He's not sure if they actually believe he's a ghost and not a mutant, but at least they don't care enough to challenge him on it, and that's good enough for him. This is a direct sequel to Double Helix (linked above), and some parts may be confusing without the context of the original fic. I suggest you read that first.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week 2024, Day 5: The Owl House X-Men Evolution | Shell

I have seen exactly two episodes of The Owl House, and that was like four years ago or something, so I was not confident in my ability to write a crossover for it. Also, from this chapter on, it's unedited and I'll come back to edit later. I just want to actually finish this fic tonight.

I tried to work in a theme of both Danny and Wanda "coming out of their shell" throughout the fic. You can also read it on AO3.

Chapter 2: Transition

Previous

[Warning for mental institutions]

"You guys got any plans for the long weekend?" Lance asked as he sprawled out on the shabby couch in the board house. "Kitty told me she and some of the X-dorks are going on an educational retreat to the California redwoods. They decided on it yesterday. Can you imagine being able to just up and fly to the other side of the country on a whim."

"And for educational purposes, yuck!" Toad agreed. "If I had my own jet like they do, I'd go to Vegas!"

"If you could afford a jet like they have, you wouldn't have to go to Vegas," Lance said. "You'd already be rich. If I had my own jet, I would use it to go to all the concerts I'd normally miss because they're too far away."

"I don't need a private jet to go wherever I want," Pietro bragged. "If I want to go to a concert, I'll run right in past security and no one will even know."

"And if that concert is in Europe?" Lance asked. "Or Asia? You know, across a massive ocean? Can you run there?"

"Okay, point taken, but why would I wanna go to a snooty European concert anyway?" the speedster scoffed. "What about you, Danny?"

"What do I need a jet for? I can already fly," he said. "Not that I use it for major travel much. Maybe I should. That's what my cousin does. She flies all over the world."

"Hey! We should do something fun this weekend!" Toad declared. "Maybe sneak into a concert, or go somewhere cool! Show those X losers we know how to have a good time while they use their fancy private jet to go learn things."

"Sure, I'm down," Lance agreed.

"Sorry guys, I'm gonna pass this time. I actually do have plans this weekend," Danny said. "I'm gonna fly upstate and visit a friend. I haven't seen her in a few weeks."

"Her?" Pietro repeated with a smirk. "This wouldn't happen to be a girlfriend would it?"

"It's not like that," Danny said. "She's a friend. She's a girl. That's it."

"Uh-huh... sure," Toad said, sounding unconvinced. "You dog."

"Lay off," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, we gotta get to school. Long weekend's not here yet."

Toad groaned.

"Buck up, we've only got one more day," Lance pointed out.

When the long weekend finally arrived, Danny filled his pockets with all the things he wanted to bring, said good-bye to the Brotherhood, who barely acknowledged him as they argued about what to do that weekend, and took off. He flew north, toward the mental institution. It had been almost three whole weeks since he'd last been there, but he remembered the way.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to go back so soon, and Wanda probably wouldn't be expecting him either, but it wasn't like he was gonna be an inpatient this time. He would turn invisible and pop into Wanda's room to hang out with her. It hadn't even been that long, really, but he missed her.

Thinking about her in that room all alone again, without anyone or anything to distract her, it almost made him regret leaving in the first place. He should have been more considerate. Even though she said she'd be okay, leaving just because he didn't like Xavier was selfish.

When, after almost a full day of flying, he finally caught sight of the building, resentment gripped his chest. He hated this place. If it weren't for Wanda, he wouldn't have even stayed as long as he had. And if it weren't for her, he definitely wouldn't have come back, ever. No matter what.

But he did. He came back. For Wanda.

Sneaking in went just as planned. No one saw him. No one heard him. He was a ghost, after all. The moment he saw Wanda, he realized that he'd missed her even more than he'd thought.

"Knock knock," he said as he appeared in her room.

She jumped in surprise, but when she saw him, she smiled. "You scared me."

"Should I have said 'Boo', instead?" he asked. "I totally should have. Missed opportunity."

She chuckled slightly and shook her head.

"You seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered," he noted.

She was still wearing a straight jacket, but it looked looser, like whoever had put it on her wasn't as worried about her getting out. Her small smile still seemed genuine. Three weeks on her own again hadn't sent her straight back to her darkest place, it seemed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I've been taking your advice. Whenever I notice myself getting stuck thinking about the bad memory, I try to think of three good ones. It's hard sometimes, but I think the more effort it takes, the better it works, because it keeps me distracted for longer. Yesterday, I remembered reading that book with you. You know the one. I tried to imagine an ending for it where they were both arrested as war criminals instead of having a happy ending. Do you want to hear it?"

"Absolutely," Danny confirmed.

In truth, he hadn't even thought about that trashy romance novel in ages. It was largely forgettable for him, but if it helped Wanda better navigate her emotions then hell yeah he wanted to hear her ideas for an alternate ending.

In her version of the ending, there was a huge trial. The kings of both sides agreed that the Warlock and Sorceress were guilty of crimes against Arvenia, and sentenced them to live the rest of there lives in a deep, dark dungeon where the lovers could only communicate by having rats deliver notes between them.

Then, after years of planning their escape one note at a time, they broke out and took over the world together, killing the kings and terrorizing the people of Arvenia to keep them in line.

"Ooh, plot twist!" Danny said when she got to that part. "I like that you made them the villains in the end. They should have been the villains from the beginning."

"I agree," Wanda said. "It was stupid that the book just gave them another villain to blame for all the bad things they did and fight off, rather than acknowledging their crimes."

"Totally!" Danny emphatically agreed. "Oh, I just remembered! I brought you some stuff."

He reached into his pockets and pulled out all the stuff he'd brought. He pulled out a deck of cards, a book of MadLibs and a pen, a sheet of stickers. He wasn't sure what they would have the most fun with, so he'd just  brought a bunch of random junk. Lastly, he pulled out a necklace, a black choker with an ankh charm.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Your first goth accessory," he said. "I found it in a random box in the attic where I'm staying now."

"No, I mean what's that symbol?" she asked, repositioning herself so Danny could put the necklace on her.

"Oh, it's an ankh. The Egyptian symbol for life, I think."

"Life, huh? Doesn't sound very goth."

"Well, you would be wearing it ironically," he said. "Most of the other gothy stuff I found had crosses, and seeing as your Jewish and all...." He shrugged. "Felt like it would be disrespectful. So, do you like it?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot," Wanda said. "You know," her voice became suddenly softer than before, like she was nervous. "Professor Xavier is going to come tomorrow. I think tomorrow might finally be the day he takes me with him."

"You think?" Danny asked, excited for her despite his hatred of the professor.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I've been doing a lot better lately, and I have a really good feeling about it."

"That's awesome, Wanda!" he told her. "In that case, let's call the necklace a good luck charm. I'm rooting for you. I know you can do it."

"Thanks."

"You know, I also found this totally sweet red leather coat when I was rooting around in the attic," he said. "Ankle-length, flared collar, and it's your favorite color. Once you're ready to give up the straight jacket, I'll bring it to you as a congratulations present. What do you think?"

"I think you're really trying to motivate me."

"What can I say? I miss my friend."

"Then we have a deal," she agreed. Tomorrow is gonna be the day. I just know it."

Danny grinned widely at her. 

For the rest of the day, they mostly played MadLibs. They tried a few card games, too, but with Wanda's hands restrained, the only thing they could really do was collaborative solitaire, and that got old fast. Danny stuck little ghost and bat stickers on all the latches on her straight jacket while he told her about the school he was going to, and the board house. How he'd picked the same city the Xavier Institute was in so he could see her again when she enrolled there.

"They're all mutants at the board house," Danny told her. "I don't know if they actually believe I'm not, but they don't push it. They don't even call me a mutant by mistake. I don't know, maybe it's 'cause they're afraid I'll do something, or maybe it's 'cause they just don't care enough to argue with me, but either way, that's better than I ever got from Xavier."

"I'm glad you found people who accept you," Wanda said. "I hope when I go to the professor's school, I will too."

"Me too," Danny agreed. "And hey, even if you don't find them there, you'll still have me."

She smiled at him. Her smile was always small, burdened, a little sad behind the eyes, but it was honest. Danny liked that about her. She never tried to hide anything.

That night, he crashed in her room. Despite being fully padded, it was not very comfortable, but it was better than trying to fly through the night and ending up sleeping in a tree somewhere. He said 'see ya later' and left early in the morning to make sure he wouldn't be seen when the orderlies came to get her for her meeting with the professor, and promised to meet up with her again soon.

Then, he spent another day flying back to Bayville.

"You're getting back a little late, aren't you?" Lance observed when Danny finally returned to the board house. "Did you get to spend some quality time with your girlfriend?"

"Again, not my girlfriend, but yes, I did," Danny responded. "How was your... whatever you guys decided to do this weekend?"

"Oh, we ended up not being able to decide, so we just ordered pizza and stayed here all weekend," Lance answered. "So that was... that."

"Oh, yeah, those X-Men are gonna be soo jealous of the weekend you had."

"Shut up!"

It wasn't until a couple days later that news reached the Brotherhood of the X-Men's newest member. It came by way of Lance's budding relationship with Kitty.

"Really!? The X-Men have a new member?" Danny repeated excitedly when he heard the news after school.

"That's what Kitty said," Lance confirmed. "Apparently she's not gonna start at Bayville High for another few of days so she can get settled, but yeah. I don't know anything about her, though."

"I'm pretty sure I do!" Danny said. "I gotta go!"

"What?"

Danny didn't bother to explain. He went ghost, made a quick pit-stop in the attic to grab something and then flew straight for the Xavier Institute. He'd never actually been there before, but Tabitha told him where it was a while back. Apparently, she used to be an X-Men trainee before she joined the Brotherhood, and she was still friends with some of them.

Turrets rose up out of the ground the moment he got past the gate. Probably motion-activated. Danny easily avoided getting hit by turning intangible and staying that way until he'd flown straight through the front door. It actually took a while. The grounds were huge.

By the time he got through, there was a group of mutants waiting for him, suited up and ready for a fight.

"Relax, I'm not here to fight," Danny said. He held up the paper bag he'd brought with him. "I'm just bringing a friend a gift."

"Who are you?" demanded a guy with a weird visor. Scott, probably. He seemed like Scott.

"What do you mean who am I?" Danny asked. "You know me!"

"Like, I've never seen you before," Kitty said, crossing her arms. 

How they expected to protect their identities when they didn't even wear masks, Danny had no idea.

"What are you talking about? I—" He stopped himself abruptly. "Oh yeah, my bad," he said, and let the rings of his transformation wash over him, revealing his human form. "Recognize me now?"

Judging by their gasps, the answer was yes, but they didn't stand down.

"What are you doing here?" Jean asked. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the Xavier Institute."

"I don't wanna join, but it's not like I hate you guys or anything," Danny said. "This just isn't the place for me. And I already told you why I'm here. I'm brought a congratulations present for Wanda. She's your new member, right? Or trainee? Whatever."

"How do you know that?" asked a fuzzy blue mutant that Danny didn't recognize until he started talking. That German accent was unmistakably Kurt.

"Well, when I saw her the other day, she said she felt really confident that she was going to be able to join you guys soon, and then Lance said Kitty said you got a new member, so I figured it must be her."

The others all glared at Kitty.

"What?" she asked. "It's not like it was gonna be a secret for long anyway. We, like, all go to the same school!"

"I wasn't aware you and Wanda were so close," came a familiar voice.

Danny turned to see the professor wheeling in and had to school his face to avoid scowling at him.

"We're friends," he said. "Can I see her or not? And keep in mind if you say no, I'm just gonna find her anyway."

"As long as you haven't come with ill intentions, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to see her," the professor said. "We're all mutants after all, and a sense of community is important."

"I'm not a mutant," Danny muttered, his scowl finally breaking through.

The professor responded with a tight smile. "Jean, why don't you show Danny to Wanda's room."

"Of course, professor," Jean agreed. "It's this way."

She headed up the stairs and Danny followed.

"So do you and Wanda know each other from the institution?" Jean asked. "I mean, sorry, that's probably personal. I hope you don't mind me asking."

"It's fine," Danny said. "Yeah. Security couldn't exactly hold a guy who walks through walls, so I would sneak into her room sometimes and we'd hang out. She always wanted to be able to come here. I could never really understand it, but I'm still proud of her, you know? I may not agree with you guys, but you're good people. For the most part. I'm not quite sold on Scott, yet."

Jean chuckled. "I guess we can't really ask for more than that." She stopped in the hallway and knocked on a door. "Wanda, you in there? You have a visitor."

The door opened seemingly on its own.

"Danny!" Wanda's voice called. "I didn't think you'd be here so soon."

"I came as soon as I heard, and I guess word travels fast," he replied. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," she said.

"I'll leave you to it," Jean said, as she backed away into the hall and closed the door behind her.

"You look good," Danny said.

Her clothes were a bit mismatched, but it was the first time he was seeing her without a straight jacket, and that was a huge improvement. She was also wearing the choker he'd given her. Her hair looked recently washed, and was neatly combed and tucked behind her ears. 

Even the way she held herself was more confident, happier. Not being in that rotten mental institution was already having a positive affect on her, it seemed.

"I brought something that'll make you look even better." He held up the paper bag.

"The coat?" she asked, rushing forward excitedly to take the bag from him.

"I hope it fits," he told her. "It looked about the right size."

She let the bag drop to the floor as he pulled the coat out and smoothly slid it on. It looked like it might be a little wide in the shoulders, but other than that, it fit like a glove.

"It's perfect," she said.

"I also found some earrings that match the necklace," he said. "I slipped 'em in one of the pockets. I know you don't have pierced ears, but I figured if you ever did, you might like to have them."

She patted the pockets until she found what he was talking about and smiled when she pulled them out. Then, she laid them gently on her dresser.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her smile so much, and so unabashedly. It wasn't the tiny, hesitant smile she'd worn before. She was really coming out of her shell.

"Careful," he said. "Looking at you now, I'd almost think you weren't consumed by rage."

Her smile fell. 

That had been the wrong thing to say.

"I am still angry," she said. "I can't stop it. But... you were right. I didn't need to control my anger. I just had to stop letting my anger control me. Now I can be angry and happy at the same time. Angry and excited. I feel more than just anger now. It feels good."

"I'm happy to hear it," he told her. "So how's this place treating you so far?"

"I have a roommate!" she replied instantly. "Her name is Rahne. And tomorrow, when they're done with school, she and some of the other girls are gonna take me to the mall for new clothes so I don't have to wear stuff from the lost-and-found anymore."

"That makes sense," Danny said.

"Do you wanna come?" she invited.

"I... would... but I might ruin the mood," he said apologetically. "Some of them don't trust me since I'm technically part of the Brotherhood, and we're... enemies? Rivals? Something like that. Plus, you don't want a guy tagging along on your first girl's shopping trip. Trust me. You'll want the full experience."

"You have a point...."

"I'll enjoy the surprise of seeing your new wardrobe when you come to school in a few days," he said.

They hung out and chatted for a little while until Wanda's roommate came back and Danny figured that was his cue to go. As he left her new room, he had the distinct pleasure of telling her he'd see her at school.

He could feel eyes on him until he was all the way off the manor grounds. They may not have hated him, but these X-Men sure as hell didn't trust him either.

Whatever. He didn't care what they thought about him. As long as they took care of Wanda, and left him alone, they were alright in his book. So far, so good.

[idiopathicsmile]

10 comebacks to a woman who once told my best friend, then a chicagoan (like i was), "i love coming to chicago because in new york i'm an 8 but in chicago i'm a 10"

"exactly, that's something i love about living here, you know? it's not as surface-oriented and shallow as some other cities. like, the culture's just a little deeper and a little smarter than in places where everyone's only concentrating on looking their best at all times, you know?"

"oh wow, you really said that with your out-loud voice, huh?"

(LAUGHTER) "yeah, you're a ten here. sure you are." (LAUGHTER)

"just wondering: in the moments before that comment left your mouth, did you take a second to imagine how we, a bunch of people who very obviously live in chicago, would react? if no, why not? if yes, what on earth did you see? please write in complete sentences in the booklet provided. you will have thirty minutes."

"my god, do you assign yourself a number comparing your appearance to the appearances of the people around you everywhere you go? you know we have a limited amount of time on this earth, right? you know that after that, we die and death is forever, right?"

"hurrah, i've done it! i've finally met the one human on the planet who is capable of objectively, correctly assessing the relative attractiveness of everyone everywhere on earth. please, oh please pray tell: what number am i? what number is he? what number is she? numbers all around, please!"

"what an exhausting way to live. what a tiring way of interacting with other people. what a dispiriting way to view the world around you, a world teeming with life and strangeness and possibility. serious question: are you alright?"

"i was going to make a crack about new yorkers being looks-obsessed, but in retrospect i have no idea why. i'm sorry. i genuinely have nothing against nyc, a location i have visited only a handful of times, including one trip to see the very person to whom you made your ill-advised remark, lo these years ago, and we had what i would call a magical time. i don't actually understand pitting one city against another. i don't understand the mentality that there must always be a ranking, must always be a competition, must always, always be a winner and a loser. also if you're a ten, everyone else here is a twelve, baby."

"on some level, i do understand that eventually this ceases to be a piece about the irritating thing a friend's work colleague once said, and instead becomes a chronicle of my own deranged inability to let a grudge go—even a petty grudge, even a second-hand grudge, even a grudge which i am again compelled to inform you saw its spark of creation multiple years and several moves ago. (neither the friend nor i live in chicago anymore.) on some level, i understand that this turning point, the moment where any sensible reader went "yikes, jess really hasn't let this go, huh?" might have happened in the very title of this post. i have never met you, woman who maybe five years ago told some chicagoans you worked with that you're an 8 in new york and a 10 in chicago. you could have changed since then. you could have grown and deepened and evolved your thinking. i do believe people are capable of learning. maybe you even remember saying it, and regret it now. maybe not. but to be honest, worse things have been said—to me, to my best friend, to everyone who has been on this planet longer than a few years. life is exhausting and scary and wonderful and we are all going to die some day. you are an adult and that means you have had hard days, hard weeks, hard years even. you have been heartbroken, and sick with worry, and you have known terror, real terror, that animal fear that crawls up the spine and screams in the brain, and yet you found it in yourself to get in a airplane and fly halfway across a large country to be here, for the sake of a job you might not even like. we are all doing the best we can. i have to believe we are all doing the best we can. i could have written this post about anything. there were near-infinite possibilities and i chose this, a mean little caricature, and in trying to paint you, only managed a quick and unflattering sketch of me, a person obsessed with being right and being clever, but who frequently is neither. again, i have never met you, and if i do meet you i will never know it, and i have spent more brain space imagining a tiny, bitter vengeance against this single-sentence quote, relayed to me at a remove, than i have spent trying to learn calculus or teaching myself to garden or volunteering at a soup kitchen. if there ever was a winner or a loser in this bizarre equation it is fully possible that i have lost, simply by trying so hard to win."

"...ok."

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

09. Sweet Little Thing

It ended up taking longer than a week, as had been the nurse’s prediction, before Stella was allowed to fly again, but at least she was allowed to fly at all. For a while there Stella had thought she might lose her pilot’s licence, had even gone so far as to try to work out what wartime work she might sign up for if she did - could she really stand to be a wireless operator after years of ferrying? - before her commanding officer, Commodore Knightswick, relented and gave her the all clear.

She was in trouble but not anything nearly as severe as she had imagined. Truthfully, while she had veered off course while flying, the AA gunners should never have fired on a friendly, unarmed plane. She was informed that AA gunners at airfields across the country had been informed in no uncertain terms to ensure they were sure it was an enemy aircraft before firing on someone flying alone - Stella was not, as it happened, the first ATA pilot to ever be hit by British flak.

So, back in the changing room hut preparing for her first chit after her accident, Stella was giving herself a pep talk. She hadn’t ever needed one before, was usually so confident in her own abilities that she had no fear, regardless of the state of the plane she was set to be flying, so she was remarkably terrible at it. But her hands were shaking as she pulled on her gloves and she’d had such a sick feeling rolling in her stomach at breakfast that she hadn’t been able to eat, so she thought some words of wisdom from the person she trusted most in the world were due.

That didn’t mean said words of wisdom were altogether very encouraging.

She was still muttering to herself when she emerged from the hut in her flight suit, her gas mask hooked over her shoulder and her aviator hat in her hand. “Just stick to the flight path,” she was telling herself. “No AA guns in the flight path. Just pay attention this time. Can’t afford to be stupid like that again. Stupid mistake.”

John was standing at the foot of the tower with Buck and Curt, watching her as he inadvertently zoned out of the conversation he was engaged in.

He could tell, even from this distance, that she was being hard on herself about her accident. He could also tell that she was nervous. Whatever she was mumbling to herself put a furrow between her eyebrows and a frown on her lips, made her wring her aviator hat in her hands and scuff her feet slightly as she walked towards the jeep waiting to take her wherever she needed to go.

She was impatiently pushing her dark hair out of her face when Curt called out to her.

John knew he must have followed his gaze.

“Finley!” he called, grinning as she looked over.

Stella smiled back at him and offered a wave.

“Get over here!” Curt called when she continued on her way.

Stella laughed a little bit and pointed to the jeep waiting for her. “I’m working!”

“Won’t keep ya long!” Curt insisted in response.

Stella hesitated, glancing between him and the jeep, before sighing and jogging over. When she slowed to a stop in front of them she was only slightly breathless. She offered a shy, sheepish smile to John, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, before turning her attention on Curt.

“Where ya headed, Fin?” he asked, adjusting the brim of his crusher cap.

“Tibenham,” Stella replied. “You’re borrowing one of their B-17s on your mission tomorrow. Have you seen a wiry little flight engineer wandering around here yet?”

“Not yet,” Buck informed her. He was shifting the toothpick between his teeth around his mouth, giving her a small, almost conspiratorial, smile.

“Always time,” John added.

Stella exchanged a rueful smile with him. “She’s always running late and only recently on the job. Maybe you can scare her into submission for me when she comes out?”

John grinned. “What d’ya want us to say?”

“Something that’ll make her show up on time next time,” Stella replied. “Just use your big strong major’s voice and make her salute you. Should be enough.”

“Put her on latrine duty,” Curt said.

Stella laughed loudly and abruptly. “No!” she said, still laughing as she gave him a gentle shove. “She’s such a sweet little thing.”

“You’re a sweet little thing,” Curt replied.

Again, she laughed. “If sweet’s what you’re after I don’t know what you’re doing hanging around with me.” Then she shook her head and deliberately spoke over him when he started to say something else. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They were very pretty.”

“You’re very pretty.”

“Curt!” Stella reprimanded him, giving him another shove.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, chuckling and taking a stumbling step back. “One day you’ll come around.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “If I thought you were serious I’d resent you, you know.”

Curt simply shrugged. “I’d be serious if I thought you’d let me.”

“Stels don’t like when men find her attractive, Curt,” John cut in, shooting her a grin. “I woulda thought you’d know that by now.”

“I don’t like when the only thing men think of me is that I’m attractive,” Stella corrected, turning to him with raised eyebrows. “I have male friends who find me attractive and I don’t mind. Trying to get me into bed, however, is a different story.”

“Y’know, Fin, I’m not sure if I should be offended that you told him your first name before me,” Curt cut back in with a lazy grin. “Can I call you Stella? That’s your name, huh?”

“I didn’t tell him my name,” Stella replied pleasantly. “He overheard my brother talking to me. But you can call me Stella only if you absolutely have to. Everyone else just calls me Finley.”

“But I’m not everyone else, am I, Stels?” John teased.

Beside him, Buck rolled his eyes, fiddling with the toothpick between his teeth.

Stella opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by a voice from behind her.

“First Officer Finley!”

Stella and John exchanged quiet smiles. “That’ll be your flight engineer,” he said.

“Pretend to be big and scary,” Stella directed him.

John puffed out his chest. “I am big and scary.”

“First Officer Finley!” Stella’s flight engineer, Lucy, exclaimed once more as she sprinted towards her. “First Officer, ma’am, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Stella turned to her and smiled indulgently. “Be on time next time, okay?” She turned back to John, Buck, and Curt and gestured at her. “This is Flight Engineer Wainscott.”

“Lucy,” Lucy introduced herself with a shy, self-conscious smile, as though she’d only just noticed the three American pilots standing with Stella.

Before John could embark on the performance Stella had requested of him, Stella and Lucy’s jeep driver honked his horn.

Lucy jumped about a foot in the air.

“Well,” Stella declared, stepping away from the group, “time won’t keep. We’re already behind schedule.”

“Have a good flight,” Buck told her, inclining his head in a farewell as Stella made to leave.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“See ya later, Fin,” Curt added.

Stella grinned at him. “See you later.” She didn’t expect anything further from John so she turned to leave, gesturing for Lucy to precede her on their way to the jeep, but he came up behind her and caught her arm before she could go far.

“Fly safe, alright?” he asked, his voice low, his hand gentle in the crook of her elbow. “What happened last time won’t happen again but stay safe. Alright?”

Stella was slow to meet his eyes. Something about the way he was looking so intently down at her felt too intimate. But, after a beat, she dragged her eyes up to his and gave him a nod. “I will. Not just me I have to get home alive this time.”

“And we’ll be needing that B-17 tomorrow,” John added.

Stella managed a smile. “I’ll make sure to steer clear of any and all AA guns where possible. Promise.”

John stared at her hard. He didn’t return her smile. But after a short pause he released her arm and stepped back with a nod. “Alright. See you later.”

“See you later,” she agreed. She spared him one final glance before turning and jogging the rest of the way to the jeep, jumping into the back to join Lucy before the driver hastily sped away.

When Stella and Lucy returned, the B-17 safely ferried and in its bay, they went their separate ways while Stella wrote up her flight report and Lucy went to talk with the mechanics. When Stella emerged from the ATA hut it was almost time for dinner; she could tell without having to check the time because it was louder outside than it usually was, the sounds of chatter leaving a trail of breadcrumbs towards the two mess halls, both officer and enlisted.

Stella didn’t want dinner yet. The nerves which had prevented her from eating breakfast were still lingering in her stomach and she knew it would be a while until the adrenaline from flying calmed down enough to ease that sick feeling. Instead, she retreated to her hut and retrieved one of her books on birdwatching, then settled herself near the edge of the base, close to the trees, and waited for something to look at.

It was mostly magpies around here. She would often wake up to the sound of their chattering outside her hut. Occasionally, and especially in the colder months, she would catch sight of a robin. Sometimes she’d get lucky and see a woodpecker. Often, though, only magpies or crows, drawn by the nearby farm. No hummingbirds, in any case. And certainly no penguins.

She smiled as she recalled one of her very first conversations with John, when he’d asked her about penguins and their lack of flying ability. She often spoke about birds in her first meetings with men to encourage them to put aside any notions of romantic attachment, or else simply to amuse herself; if they were going to force her into conversation she was going to talk about whatever she wanted to talk about. But John hadn’t been deterred. In fact, he hadn’t batted an eye. He’d accepted her bird fact - had remembered it, even - and prompted her to tell him more. She wouldn’t have expected that of him, not as she knew him now. But he was surprising, she’d come to find, in his depth; he presented himself as reckless and carefree and shallow but in reality he cared an awful lot.

At least, Stella was starting to let herself believe that he did.

When she finally left her hiding place and headed to the officers’ mess, her book tucked up beneath her arm, she found it quiet. Jessop and Alice had stayed behind to wait for her, pushing scraps around their plates so that the waiters wouldn’t try to hurry them out, and there were a few American stragglers hanging around. Besides them the space was barren. There were many empty tables separating each small group.

“Where’ve you been?” Jessop asked with mild interest when Stella sat down. He had his glass of water raised to his mouth, addressing her mid-sip.

“Birdwatching,” Alice deduced. She gave Stella a grin as she gestured with her head to the book Stella had laid face down on the table.

“Birdwatching,” Stella confirmed, pouring a glass of water for herself before settling back into her chair.

“Big mission for the Americans tomorrow, I hear,” Jessop spoke into the silence which had fallen. By now, Stella was digging at her food, though she looked up at him when he spoke.

“Really?” she asked once she’d swallowed her mouthful of mashed potato.

“I heard the same,” Alice agreed. “Hush hush as always, naturally, but they’ve been whispering to each other about it almost constantly. Something about Africa, and how they’re not coming back here after. From what I can gather they’re heading the deepest into occupied territory they’ve yet attempted to reach.”

Stella frowned. “Who’s flying?”

“The lot of them,” Jessop said. “It’s a big one, remember? So we’ll have a quiet base for a few days if they really are stopping off in Africa before they head back here.”

A quiet base. A base without all the Americans. The prospect seemed bizarre to Stella now. Before they’d arrived she’d dreaded their invasion, now not having them here would feel lonely. She was often having her day interrupted by various types of American drawl, was often engaging in verbal sparring with John or batting away Curt’s joking attempts at flirting or sharing exasperated looks with Buck at the two of them. It would be so strange to have them gone, even if only for a short while.

“Do we know how dangerous it is?” Stella asked when she emerged from her reverie. Suddenly, she was only picking at her food. Suddenly, she wasn’t very hungry. “I know all combat missions are dangerous, but if they’re sending everyone so deep into Nazi territory I can only imagine it’s bad news.”

Neither Jessop or Alice had enough information on the matter to give her a real answer. All they had to go off of was the bits and pieces of eavesdropped information they’d managed to pick up throughout the day.

The following day, the day of the dreaded mission, the weather was terrible. All ATA chits had been cancelled due to intense cloud cover and heavy rain limiting visibility. So Stella found herself twiddling her thumbs in the officers’ club, one of her books in her lap but her mind elsewhere.

None of the American planes had taken off yet. They kept getting delayed.

It was a moment of impulse which led her to leaving her book with Jessop and leaving the club with no explanation. And it was an impulse she doubted all the way over to the airfield, even when she commandeered a jeep to drive over to the runways where the B-17s were still in their bays, full of airmen who were antsy to take off.

The fog was thick. Even with the fog lights on it was impossible to see barely five feet ahead of her. Stella drove slowly, squinting into the fog, and stopped the jeep early to make sure she didn’t hit anyone. When the first B-17 came into sight, she found the crew lounging on the tarmac beneath its nose.

The next crew in line were sitting beneath their fort’s wing. Stella spied John from as far away as it was possible to see in such thick cloud, lying on the ground with his head propped up against what appeared to be a crate of ammunition. He was reading a book, the title of which she couldn’t make out from this far away, but he couldn’t have been that interested in it, for when Stella began to pick her way over to him he glanced at her almost immediately, as though he’d sensed her presence.

“I hear this is a big one,” she said by way of greeting when he climbed to his feet and met her halfway.

Hooking one his thumbs through his harness, his book still in his other hand, John nodded, glancing past her into the fog momentarily before refocusing his gaze on her. “Yeah,” he said. Then his eyes narrowed. “How’d you know?”

Stella shrugged. “Oh, you know. Careless talk and all that.”

John scoffed but he was smiling slightly. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Stella hesitated and found she hated to look at him when he was looking at her so intensely, so she peered past him, just barely making out the next B-17 in the lineup. “Bored,” she said.

“You ain’t flying today?”

“Nope. All ATA chits are cancelled.”

John nodded. Stella could feel him watching her even though she was still squinting into the middle distance.

“Have a nice day off,” he offered after a beat.

Stella hummed. “Have a good mission.”

“Yeah,” John said. He nodded to himself, considering his harness where he was holding onto it. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

Silence fell. Stella got the impression it was time for her to leave. But she didn’t want to leave, and John made no move to encourage her to. So she searched frantically for something to say, then all but blurted, “You’re going to Africa afterwards, I hear.”

If John was surprised that she knew this - which he must have been - he didn’t show it. “To Algeria,” he confirmed. “Warm weather and cold beer. Everything I been missing about home.”

Stella scoffed, finally allowing herself to meet his eyes. “Our beer is cellar temperature. It’s better that way. And warm weather is overrated. You’ll miss our dreary English summertime when you’re sweating so badly you want to claw your own skin off in Algeria.”

John laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, Stels. I bet I’ll miss your shitty English weather and mediocre alcohol like I’d miss a punch in the face right after getting out of a fight.”

Stella grinned. “It’s home,” she said. “It’ll be home for you, too, soon enough, if the war carries on much longer. Then you’ll never want to go back to the States. You’ll be telling your family once you get home that you miss thick fog and drizzle in August and double daylight savings and cellar temperature beer.”

“Nah, I’ll be tellin’ ‘em I miss this chatterbox ATA pilot who don’t ever let me get the last word in and always has to be right,” he fired back.

Stella stared at him for a moment, processing this retort, before a slow grin started to spread across her face. “Was that a compliment?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I said you talk too much and you’re argumentative.”

“But you said you’d miss me.”

“Maybe I would.”

“Maybe you’re too sentimental,” Stella replied, still grinning. “You and I are only recently friends again and you’re saying you’d miss me?”

“You wouldn’t miss me?” he asked, chuckling to himself. “I don’t believe that for a second, Stels. You only spend half your life seeking me out to come talk my ear off about whatever’s on your mind that day.”

“I do that because you let me,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “No one else lets me talk at them for so long without complaining. And no one else listens well enough to reply afterwards, either. You’re useful in that way.”

“Glad to be of service,” John drawled.

Stella laughed. “As it happens, you are good at something. Alert the press. Write home about it immediately.”

A flare went up then, shot from the top of the tower straight into the low clouds.

Stella and John watched it in silence. Suddenly, neither of them were smiling. Suddenly, nothing was funny.

“I suppose that’s your cue,” Stella said when John just kept staring at the empty air where the flare had once been.

John nodded as he turned back to her.

“Send Buck and Curt my well wishes if you see them, would you? I wanted to speak to them as well but it seems I’m being hurried off stage.”

John cracked a tiny smile at this. “Sure I will,” he agreed.

Stella nodded. Her feet were itching to turn and lead her away.

But she hesitated. There was something in the soles of her shoes like concrete or lead, holding her in place.

“Have a good flight,” she offered when it started to become strange that she was still here and yet saying nothing. “I know it won’t be a safe flight but… I don’t know.” She shook her head. She was no good at any of this. “Have fun in Africa, I suppose. Send me a postcard if they have any near where you are.”

John laughed as he peered down at her through the fog. “Yeah,” he replied, “I sure will, Stels. If the Twelfth Air Force happens to have a couple postcards lying around I’ll make sure to bring you one back.”

“Yes,” Stella said. “Do. Something tropical, so I can see what all the fuss is about.”

“We’re resuming operations,” announced a man in a jeep as he drove past. He spied Stella and the brakes screamed as he stopped abruptly. “Ma’am, I need you off the runway immediately.” He inclined his head in greeting to John. “Major Egan, sir.”

“I’m leaving,” Stella informed him.

At the same time, John brushed the driver aside. “She’s fine. She’s headed out.”

The driver nodded, his eyes on Stella unconvinced, but nonetheless he sped off into the fog again and left Stella and John staring at each other, lost for how to say goodbye except to nod at each other and hope it wouldn’t be a lifetime before they saw each other again.