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1-800-kami · 1 year ago

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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chelseeebe · 1 year ago

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still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

‎♡‧₊˚

‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker.

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader

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satorhime · 2 years ago

Text

. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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imaginespazzi · 3 months ago

Text

Part 10: The Bridges Burned Around Us

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12

Be good to me, and I'll be good to you (but please don't be too good to be true)

(In which an apologetic writer finally finishes a chapter that took much longer than necessary)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 10.2K (seems fitting for chapter 10 lol)

TW: Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies :) I am so incredibly late with this I know but considering it's really the length of two chapters, I think I should be forgiven. Despite how long this took me, I don't really know how I feel about this chapter because it's both filler but also pretty important so honestly it does feel a little all over the place. But I hope y'all like it anyways. I do suggest quickly skimming over Part 2 before you read this just to jog your memory a little bit. I did edit as I always do but there's probably typos/mistakes, so feel free to point those out. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a wonderful weekend my loves <3

May 2033

“What the hell Bueckers?” Coach yells, glaring daggers at Paige who has the audacity to at least look a little embarrassed as she reaches a hand to help the rookie she’d just knocked over with far too much unnecessary force. Azzi narrows her eyes at the scene, confused at Paige’s atypical behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for the vets to rib the rookies a little bit, hell they had a whole ragging initiation ceremony planned for this weekend to welcome the newest members of their team, but Paige seemed to have a personal vendetta against Angie Davis.

When they’d watched the draft together, Azzi could’ve seen sworn she’d seen a flash of uncomfortableness flicker in Paige’s eyes as the commissioner announced that the Valkyries, with their third pick acquired via Atlanta, were picking Angie Davis from Stanford University. The blonde had stiffened but only for a split second and Azzi had chalked it up to nothing because really, what beef could Paige possibly have with a 22 year old? Except clearly something was bothering the Minnesota native because this is the fifth time today itself that Paige has fouled the girl so hard that her body had almost slightly bounced as it hit the floor.

The first time, everyone had found it amusing because who didn’t laugh at a rookie getting a taste of the league. The second time, Coach had rolled her eyes but the rest of the team had still found it pretty funny. And then as it continued, Azzi could tell her teammates were just as confused by Paige’s behavior as she was. They might not know the blonde as well as Azzi did, but in the last month or so they’d discover that the basketball superstar was really just a ball of golden retriever energy. Since they’d started training camp recently, they’d seen that Paige always practiced hard but she also had the time of her life doing it. They’d seen that she might practically bulldoze her teammates in her eagerness to be a good defender but she’d always be the first one to help pick them up with a teasing grin on her face right after. Except apparently not with Angie. With Angie, there was nothing but brute force and the first couple of times, before Coach’s clear irritation had started to seep onto her face, Paige hadn’t even bothered helping the rookie up. And although Azzi would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a part of her found this aggressive display of strength just a tad bit attractive, she also knew it was completely unlike her Paige to be acting like this.

“So,” she says softly, lowering her voice purposefully as she sidles up to Paige in the locker room after practice, “are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” there’s a smirk on Paige’s face as she takes a step closer towards Azzi.

The brunette narrows her eyes, “you know what.”

“What I know,” Paige whispers as she ghosts her hands across Azzi’s hips, keeping her movement innocuous as to not alert their other teammates who are engrossed in conversation not too far away from them, “is that I’m pretty sure you’re just looking for a way to get close to me.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” but she can’t stop the faint blush that’s creeping up her cheeks as Paige’s hot breath fans across her face and her gaze shifts to the blonde’s sweat sheened biceps that are on fully display under her flimsy tank top.

Paige notices it immediately as her smirk widens, “appreciating the view baby?”

“Shut up,” Azzi shoves her back lightly, “don’t try and distract me.”

“‘I’m not even trying. I just have that effect on you,” Paige shrugs coyly as she pushes herself back into Azzi’s space.

The brunette’s eyes dart over to her teammate for a brief second, making sure the rest of them are still occupied with their own conversations as she takes her own step towards the blue-eyed woman, the edges of her lips turning up into a smug grin when she hears Paige’s breath hitch, “and what about the effect I have on you?”

There’s something thrilling about hiding this from their team, something sexy about having to keep their hands to themselves when they’re constantly desperate to touch. It was torture in a way, having Paige so close and not being able to kiss her or hold her. But that only meant that when Azzi did finally get to do all of those things, it felt like finally coming up for air; like after being deprived of her oxygen for so long, she could finally breathe.

Last time around, they’d kept it a secret from the world but everyone who meant something to them had known. Their old teammates for one. This time, especially since they hadn’t quite defined what this was, they’d chosen to keep it even closer to their chests. It had been Paige’s idea this time and Azzi thinks maybe she’d proposed it just to beat the brunette to the punch-maybe she’d even been a little disappointed by it- but she thinks that they probably do need a little more time; a little more time to trust that this time they wouldn’t go up in flames, that they wouldn’t burn everyone else around them.

“You don’t- you don’t have any effect on me,” Paige stutters.

“Is that right?” Azzi asks coyly, taking her shirt off at a ridiculous slow pace, enjoying the way blonde’s eyes are immediately drawn towards her toned abs, “none at all?”

“N-no,” Paige gulps as she watches the brunette finally get rid of the offending t-shirt and she’s left in nothing but a sports bra that does little to hide the curves underneath.

“Appreciating the view baby?” Azzi smirks, repeating the older woman’s words from before she slyly runs her index finger across the purplish red hues of a hickey Paige had left on her collarbone from the night before.

“You’re so-”

“Bueckers,” a loud voice interrupts Paige’s groan as the two of them spring apart, everyone in the room turning to look at their Coach leaning against the doorframe, “in my office. Now.”

It feels a little bit like they’re college students being reprimanded again but there’s this nagging intuition in Azzi’s gut, as she watched Paige sheepishly follow Coach into her office, that she’s missing out on some important information. Something churns in her stomach at the thought of it. Things had been near perfect so far; they were climbing back up to what they had been, maybe climbing their way to something better but Azzi thinks that if another gust of circumstance tries to shove them down again, they might not be able to get back up this time. Because this time, they’re not climbing alone. This time, they have Stephie and at the end of the day, she’s all that matters.

“So is Paige’s car broken or something?” Tessa’s question catches Azzi off guard as she shakes herself out of head and looks at her teammate with confusion.

“Uh no why?”

“I mean it’s just every time she shows up somewhere, it seems she’s in your car, with you. So I just figured something must be up with her car, why else would y’all be carpooling literally every single day unless-” there’s a sparkle in Tessa’s eyes as she leans casually against her locks, “unless there’s another reason?”

“What other reason could there be?” Azzi’s voice is unusually high-pitched as she avoids Tessa’s perceptive eyes and instead glares daggers at a spluttering Jana, “her car’s in the shop. That’s it. That’s definitely it. That’s the only reason I’m driving her around.”

“Aw that sucks,” Laila says with an oblivious empathetic smile, “I mean we could help out if that’s the case? With carpooling.”

“I don’t think-”

“What a lovely idea Phelia,” Tessa smirks and Azzi knows just by how guileful it is, that the former Gamecock is absolutely onto them, “what do you think Azzi? Maybe we can make a little chart for who drives Paige to practice huh? Be welcoming to our teammate?”

Resisting the urge to flip off both Tessa and Jana whose shoulders are shaking with laughter, Azzi settles on a sugary sweet smile instead, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Oh we’d be happy to help,” Tessa chirps happily and Azzi’s suddenly wistful for the moment back in her senior year when she’d dropped the South Carolina guard for an easy layup.

“And that’s very kind of y’all but,” she reaches over to squeeze the younger girl’s shoulder tightly, making her grunt in discomfort, “I think Paige is okay. It just works better if it’s one person. Less complications, you know?”

“Won’t somebody please think about the complications,” Jana snickers.

“I’m so confused,” Laila says, a frown on her face as she looks weirdly at her teammates.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says shrilly as she slings both her and Paige’s bags on her shoulders, rolling her eyes when both Jana and Tessa giggle at the domesticity of the action, “don’t worry about it, Phelia.”

“Y’all are acting strange,” Laila shrugs as she starts to make her way out of the locker room and Azzi’s rounds on the other two women.

“Whatever you think you know Tess,” Azzi raises a finger in warning, “keep it to yourself.”

Tessa makes a point to make a zipping motion across her lips as her eyes glimmer with mischief.

“Thank god,” Jana gasps dramatically, “I was so tired of having to deal with these two all by myself. Do you know how hard it is Tess? I’ve been doing it for YEARS.”

“You poor soul,” Tessa coos, “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you. They’re kind of disgusting.”

“You peeped that already? Damn Azzi, do you realize how sickening y’all must be for Tessa to have already figured it out?”

“No forreal,” Tessa teases, “if you don’t want people catching onto your shit, I suggest y’all stop eyefucking every other second.”

“Fuck all the way off. Both of you,” Azzi grunts as Jana practically howls with laughter.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth Fudd?”

“I dunno about Stephie,” Tessa drops her voice so only Jana and Azzi can hear her, “but I bet she kisses Paige with that mouth huh Az?”

Azzi groans, hiding her bright red face in her hands as her teammates' jovial laughter echoes through the locker room.

***

Paige is eerily quiet as she climbs into the passenger seat and Azzi knows immediately by the way she doesn’t try to coax her way into driving, that whatever conversation she’d had with Coach, likely hadn’t been a pleasant one. There are a thousand and one questions taking birth in her mind but Azzi doesn’t voice any of them, knowing Paige isn’t ready to answer them. Instead, she laces her fingers through Paige’s, resting them on the other girl's lap as she rubs a soothing circle against the back of her hand, a promise of whenever you’re ready to share, i’ll be ready to listen.

They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, one driven by that fact Paige has practically moved into Azzi’s house at this point. Their day started with them dropping Stephie off at school before the two of them would go to training or practice or whatever basketball activities they had planned. Then, they’d go to pick up Stephie from school and Azzi would drop her and Paige off at Curry camp while she ran various errands before circling back to pick them up. It’s domestic as hell and there’s a part of Azzi that’s still a little fearful; perhaps they’re trying to fit the puzzle pieces of their separate lives into each other a little too quickly. But she thinks that maybe those puzzle pieces had never really been disconnected, because sometimes she thinks their existence might just be an extension of each other’s.

“You know,” Azzi begins softly when it becomes abundantly clear Paige isn’t going to speak first, “I’m okay with the fact that you’ve probably fucked other people. I mean other than the woman you married as well that is.”

“What the fuck?” Paige’s head whips towards her so quick, it must hurt just a little bit, “where the fuck did that come from?”

Azzi shrugs, “I’m just saying-”

“Why are you just saying?” Paige's eyes widen in panic as she possessively tightens her grip on the brunette’s hand, “are you about to tell me about someone you hooked up with? Because I’mma be honest Azzi I’d rather jump out of this moving car then hear about some whore who had the audacity-”

“Audacity? You do realize I was-”

“Say you were single and I actually will jump out of the car,” Paige warns, “but no actually dude what the fuck?”

“Well you see,” Azzi says carefully, “I’m trying to figure out why you’re being such a bitch to our new rookie and after careful deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s gotta be a hookup gone wrong because why the fuck else would Paige Bueckers, who has a hard time killing a spider, be so unnecessarily mean to this poor girl?”

There’s silence in the car for a second as Paige opens and closes her mouth, unable to get a word out, until she doubles over laughing, the sound of it echoing all around them. Azzi can’t help the soft grin that flitters across her face, relieved at seeing the way the tension begins to dissipate from the blonde’s shoulders. And Azzi swears that when Paige laughs, it feels a little bit like the sun has come out again; like the flowers are blooming and birds are chirping and everything is right in the world again and she thinks the sun should probably be jealous of the warmth Paige exudes because at least against the silhouette of Azzi’s sky, Paige burns brighter than the sun ever will.

“You-you think I fucked Angie?” Paige finally manages to splutter out between peals of laughs, “baby she’s barely 22.”

“Hey,” Azzi pouts, “you always did go for younger women. Like me for example.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “you’re literally one year younger than me.”

“One year and a couple of days,” Azzi corrects.

Rolling her eyes Paige uses both hands to hold Azzi’s non-driving one, “Azzi I swear to you that I have never in my life hooked up with Angie fucking Davis.”

“I know,” Azzi confesses, eyes still focused on the road ahead of her, “so what exactly is your problem with her then Paige?”

“You couldn’t have just asked me that?”

Azzi shrugs, “felt like I needed to make you laugh first. So tell me Bueckers-” before she can continue, she feels lips being pressed to her cheeks and can’t help the crimson tinge it elicits on her face, “what- what was that for?”

“Because you’re a little bit of a sap and I’m glad you’re my sap,” Paige grins, “all mine.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.”

“I am not.”

“Paige.”

The blonde sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest, “can we talk about it tonight? I wanna tell you I promise- I just- I think we need to sit down so that I- I can explain it to you properly.”

“That feels ominous,” Azzi’s stomach clenches at the seriousness in Paige’s voice as she turns onto the street for Stephie’s school, “should I be worried?”

“No,” Paige says firmly, bringing their enclosed hands to her mouth so she can brush a kiss across Azzi’s knuckles, “it’s nothing we can’t get through.”

Azzi nods as she pulls into the school parking lot, mustering up a reassuring smile of her own as she squeezes Paige’s hand. But there’s still a speck of fear dancing around in her gut; it’s this constant fear of losing Paige again that she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly be able to sweep out of her system. They’ve been doing so good these last few weeks -like they’re collecting together the scattered pages of everything we used to be and binding them back together with strings of all that we can become- but sometimes Azzi finds herself afraid that it might all just disappear, that a gust of wind might blow everything out of her hands all over again.

“HI MAMA. HI MISS BUECKS,” she’s shaken from her thoughts by the backdoor opening as Stephie barrels into the car, the happiness in her voice contagious as she leans over the console to kiss Azzi and then Paige, before hanging between them and tapping at her own cheeks. The two adults laugh as they simultaneously press their lips to the little girl's cheeks, causing her dimples to deepen as she giggles between them.

“How was school Stephie-bean?” Paige asks, peering over her own shoulder to make sure Stephie buckles herself in correctly as Azzi backs the car out.

Stephie scrunches up her nose is distaste, “it’s school Miss Buecks. It was so boring. Except for lunch. Lunch was great. I love lunch.”

“You’re so real Steph,” Paige nods seriously, “lunch is the best and school is so bor-”

“Paige!”

“C’mon Az, I’m not gonna lie to the kid.”

“Exactly Mama,” Stephie chimes in loyally from the backseat, “lying is bad.”

Azzi rolls her eyes as Paige twists her hand to hold it out for Stephie to high-five it from the backseat, “the two of you are insufferable.”

“What does that mean?” Stephie asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“It means we’re her most favorite people in the world,” Paige winks at the little girl as Azzi shakes her head fondly, choosing to keep the you’re more than that, you two are the reason my world keeps turning that tastes sugary sweet on the tip of her tongue to herself as she continues to drive.

“What do y’all want for dinner?” she asks instead, ready to make a mental note of ingredients she might need to pick up from the grocery store while Paige and Stephie are at Curry Camp.

“Actually,” there’s a slight nervous lilt to Paige’s voice and when Azzi looks over, she finds the older woman fidgeting anxiously with her thumbs, “I was thinking that maybe um- maybe y’all could come over to mine tonight? Maybe I can cook?”

They haven’t stayed at Paige’s since that first disastrous night. It hadn’t been on purpose per say; it was simply just easier to stay at Azzi’s, especially with Stephie to consider but perhaps a part of it had been subconscious self-preservation on the younger girl's part. Something about sleeping over at Paige’s feels more purposeful; like she’s fully letting herself step back into the other’s girl world and this time with the promise to not run away in the morning. It’s scary but when Azzi sees the hopeful look on Paige’s face as the blonde bites her lips, she thinks it’s worth it to take the leap; she’s ready for it.

“I think that would be nice,” she says with a soft smile, “I’ll pick up some clothes for Stephie while y’all are at camp.”

Paige beams and Azzi can tell she’s itching to lean over to grab her hand or kiss her touch her in any way but there’s still the little fact they still haven’t quite told Stephie anything about them yet that stops her from doing any of the above.

“What do you think of that Stephie bean? You wanna have a sleepover at my place tonight?” she redirects her attention to the little girl instead.

“YES PLEASE,” Stephie squeals, practically bouncing on her car seat before a frown crosses her forehead, “but um-” she hesitates, “you um- you can’t cook Miss Buecks.”

Azzi bursts into a laughter as an offended look clouds Paige’s face, “excuse me? I absolutely can cook.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says, her condescension-filled tone as adult as she can make it be, “you burned my eggs three times this week and then Mama had to make them all over again and we were almost late for school,” the little girl smirks through her ramble, “but that’s okay because I don’t mind being late for school because like I said school is really boring.”

“Okay but what about the one time I didn’t burn the eggs?” Paige haughtily crosses her arms over chest, “have we all just forgotten about that?”

“Pretty sure they were a little undercooked and saltless that one time-OW,” Azzi’s snicker is cut off by a pinch to her stomach, “do you want me to crash the car woman?”

Paige ignores her, turning back to look at Stephie with a betrayed expression, “you said you liked them?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feeling Miss Buecks,” the little girl wails and Azzi feels a mix of pride and love bloom in her heart at the kind soul she’s raised, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I just-” Stephie reaches as far as her seatbelt will allow to cup Paige’s hand in her tiny hands, “I really don’t think you should cook Miss Buecks.Please. I don’t wanna die yet. I’m too cute to die.”

“You know what Stephie bean,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, “I think you might be even more of a drama queen than me-”

“Don’t sound so proud,” Azzi mutters under her breath.

“Shhh,” Paige chastises, never looking away from Stephie, “but alright sweetheart. I won’t cook. How about we order pizza?”

Stephie lets out a delighted cheer as Azzi grumbles, “more junk food? I swear to god Bueckers you’re completely ruining her diet.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m finally fixing it. You poor thing,” Paige coos at Stephie dramatically, “I bet your Mama was torturing you with nasty green things all day every day before me huh?”

“No no no Miss Buecks, veggies are good for you,” Stephie recites loyally and Azzi grins triumphantly at Paige.

“Oh dear Stephie you’ve been brainwashed-”

“Excuse me? Don’t try to corrupt my child out of her good habits.”

“I’m not corrupting her,” Paige defends as Azzi makes a left turn into the parking lot for Curry Camp, “I’m just teaching her the wonders of grease and oil and all the other fun things that adults lie are bad for you.”

“Paige you are an adult.”

“But a fun one,” Paige smirks, waggling her eyebrows at Stephie through the mirror as Azzi stops the car right outside the building, “right Stephie-bean?”

“The fun-est-est-est-est,” Stephie choruses back as she begins to unbuckle herself so she can latch onto her mother’s neck from behind. Paige takes the opportunity to climb out of the car so she can grab Stephie’s sports bag from where it’s kept in the trunk.

“You be good for Miss Buecks and Uncle Twin at camp today okay?” Azzi whispers to the little girl, “and I better hear that you made all your shots.”

Stephie scoffs, “you know I never miss Mama.”

“That’s my girl,” Azzi grins as she nuzzles her nose against the little girl’s before Paige opens the backdoor and Stephie unlatches herself from her mother, only so she can go barrelling into the older woman’s arms instead, “Stephie-bean you know you can walk.”

“But Mama,” Stephie whines, wrapping her hands tightly around Paige’s neck, “I’m too tired to walk-”

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs.

“You don’t mind carrying me, do you Miss Buecks?”

“Of course not,” Paige grins, “whatever you want sweetheart.”

Stephie looks pointedly at Azzi, “see Mama? Miss Buecks doesn’t mind.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Azzi shakes her head, “alright off you two go. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Bye Mama,” Stephie waves, “hurry back okay? We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys too,” Azzi says warmly, blowing a kiss at both of them.

It’s uncanny how similar the two of them are, when both Stephie and Paige make a show of catching the kiss and bringing it to their heart before looking at each other and giggling over their own silliness. It makes Azzi’s heartache in the best way possible. And as she watches the two of them start walking up the stairs, Stephie rambling and Paige hanging onto every word, she thinks that as long as life gives her the two of them, she’ll never ask for anything else.

***

The first thing Azzi notices when she walks into the gym, arriving a little before camp finishes so she can say hi to her mentor, is Stephie sulking as she glares at Paige from the other side of the court. Confused, because it’s rare to see her daughter looking at the other woman with anything but pure adulation, Azzi follows the little girl’s line of sight to see what could possibly have upset her. A fond smile crosses her face as she sees Paige crowded by a bunch of children, all of them watching the superstar with wonder as she demonstrates her shooting technique. Paige swishes the ball into the basket and one would think she’d just scored the game-winning shot in the finals, by the way the gaggle of kids around her let out enthused cheers.

The blonde has always had this aura that draws people to her -Azzi would know; she’d been one of the first people to succumb to it (not that she’d put up much of a fight)- but there’s something different about the charisma Paige has with kids. Perhaps it’s because of her own childlike innocence that’s still intact despite her age, but it’s clear that the little ones adore her. Azzi watches as one of the little girls animatedly tries to mimic what Paige had just demonstrated, looking upset when the basketball barely touches the rim.

“I’m never gonna make a basket,” she hears the girl pout.

Paige ruffles the kid’s hair before lifting her up onto her lap, “of course you are. You just needed a little bit more height. Here try again,” she says as she urges the girl to shoot again now that she’s higher off the ground. This time the ball falls magnificently through the hoop and the child whoops.

“OH MY GOD COACH P I DID IT,” she squeals, hiding her face in Paige’s neck and while Azzi finds the whole thing quite adorable, when she looks over, she realizes that clearly Stephie is not nearly amused as she watches her daughter’s face transform into a scowl.

“Riley and Ryan used to make the same face any time I gave another little girl too much of my time,” Azzi grins as Steph appears by her side, the former Warriors guard bumping her shoulder as a sign of greeting, “I split the kids into groups, half with Paige and half with me. Kept Stephie with me cause you know I thought I was her favorite but she’s been glaring at all the kids with Paige this whole time.”

“She’s uh- she’s a little possessive,” Azzi chuckles, eyes still on her daughter who finally looks away from Paige, before angrily shooting the ball at the lowered basket in front of her.

“NICE SHOT TWIN NIECE,” Steph cheers as Stephie makes the shot, the little girl’s face unmoving as she gathers the ball back and gets ready to shoot again. Sometimes Azzi thinks, as she claps with pride, her daughter’s laser-focus attitude might rival her own. Maybe it’s a mother’s bias -she’d call it intuition- but she’s certain Stephie’s going to be a basketball phenomenon one day.

“That was so pretty Stephie-bean,” Paige is beaming as she approaches Stephie, the little girl from before holding her hand, “you think you can show Claudia here how you get that arc on it?”

“No thank you Coach Bueckers,” Stephie’s voice is perfectly polite as she makes a point to not look at the two people who’ve just entered her space, but Azzi catches the split second when her gaze shifts irritatedly to the way Claudia’s hanging off of Paige, “I’m a little busy right now. Maybe another time.”

“Oh she’s good,” Steph whistles lowly as Paige’s mouth falls open at not being referred to as Miss Buecks, “she’s gonna have Paige groveling after camp I bet. She’s gonna get whatever treat she wants.”

Azzi groans, “that is not a good thing. Do you know how much junk food she manipulates Paige into getting her?”

Steph laughs, “she spoils her huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Azzi mutters but there’s a wistful grin on her face, “It’s part of why Stephie adores her so much cause she knows Paige would give her the world if she could.”

“I don’t think it’s just Stephie who adores her,” Steph bumps his shoulder against her and Azzi blanches at the knowing tone in his voice.

“That’s not- I mean- I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters out.

Steph rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “oh come off it Az. It was obvious when y’all were kids and it’s still obvious now.”

“When we were- you knew?”

“Of course I knew,” Steph scoffs, “I’ve been married for more than 20 years to the same girl I fell in love with at 15 years old Az, I know a thing or two about what love looks like. Of course I knew.”

“I’m just getting clocked left right and center today what the hell,” she grumbles but there’s a part of her that’s slightly relieved about the people around them slowly figuring it out. She thinks she should maybe be a little more embarrassed about how obvious they apparently are -have supposedly always been- but honestly she kind of loves that their love is so bright, that it’s impossible to not see it.

Love. The word sends a shiver through Azzi. It’s not a foreign feeling to her at all, especially not when it comes to Paige. If she’s honest with herself, it’s a feeling that has never left. She’d tried as hard as she could; shoving it underneath a rock of you’re not allowed to feel this way that weighed heavily against her chest. But it had always been there and as soon as Paige had waltzed her way back into Azzi’s life, the blonde seemed to have found a way to shovel it right back out. And that four-letter-word isn’t buried anymore; it’s right there on the tip of her tongue and every time Paige smiles at her -eyes crinkling with only for you-, Azzi’s this close to let it slip through her lips. She’s just waiting for the right time.

“Hey Stephie-bean can I fix your form a little bit,” her attention is drawn back to her surroundings as she watches Paige try to get Stephie to look at her again but her daughter is nothing if not stubborn.

“That’s okay. It’s almost time to go home and I’m sure Uncle Twin can help me with my form Coach Bueckers,” the little girl says contemptuously to a gobsmacked Paige before gesturing at Claudia, “how about you just keep helping her instead.”

“Sheesh that’s one petty kid you’ve got there Fudd,” Steph remarks before stepping to the front of the court and blowing his whistle, “alright y’all it’s 5 o’clock. Great job today! I hope you guys had a lot of fun and learned some good stuff and I’ll see y’all back here tomorrow!”

The former player diligently high-fives all the kids before they disperse towards their awaiting parents. Azzi can tell Stephie’s still irritated when the little girl barely hugs Steph, shaking herself out of her Uncle’s arms much quicker than she normally would as she all but stomps her way to her mother.

“Woah there Stephie-bean,” Azzi says gently, falling to her knees in front of her daughter, “what’s wrong?”

Stephie pouts miserably, “I’m mad at Miss Buecks. She’s been helping other kids this whole time.”

Azzi has to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling, amused by the child’s dramatics, “baby you know that’s Miss Buecks’s job right? She’s here to coach all the kids.”

If possible, Stephie’s frown deepens as she kicks her feet stubbornly, “she can coach them,” she says matter-of-factly, “but why does she have to carry them and give them hugs. She should only do that with me.”

“Stephie-”

“And camp is over now and she’s still with stupid Claudia,” Stephie whines as she uses her hand to turn Azzi’s face towards Paige, “see?”

The we don’t call people stupid lesson that she was just about to give her daughter dies on Azzi’s lips as her eyes fixate on where a stupid pretty young woman who she knows to be Claudia’s mother is staring up at Paige with a stupid flirty smile. Azzi has no idea what the blonde is saying, but she’s sure it can’t be that funny to make the woman tilt her head back in laughter, left hand reaching out to flick Paige’s bicep and lingering far longer than necessary.

“You know what Stephie-bean I think it’s time to home,” and really she feels just a little guilty with how she’s about to use her clearly upset daughter, “how about you go call Miss Buecks over.”

That’s all it takes to get Stephie running towards her and Azzi follows cautiously behind, only getting further irritated at how Claudia’s mother seems determined to step closer and closer to Paige and the clueless blonde does absolutely nothing to stop it, continuing to smile politely at the other woman.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie comes to a halt in front of Paige, interrupting whatever conversation was going on as she practically forces herself in between the two women, “Mama says it’s time to go home.”

Despite the jealousy simmering her heart, Azzi can’t help that her heart skips a beat at the way Paige’s whole face brightens up at seeing Stephie; clearly relieved at the little girl using her nickname again.

“Give me one second sweetheart. I’m just a little busy talking to Claudia and her mother-”

“Mama,” Stephie says loudly, cutting Paige off as she turns to Azzi, “do you know if Aunty Chérie is in town?”

“Um- I- uh-” the brunette stutters, not having expected her little girl to bring that up as her gaze flickers towards a frozen Paige whose smile is completely gone, her body going rigid at the mention of Clémence.

“I was just thinking,” Stephie barrels on casually, “maybe we could go see her and she could give me cuddles and kisses since app-ently Miss Buecks is too busy to give them to me-”

The little girl cuts herself off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted off the ground and into Paige’s arms; the blonde peppering her lips against every inch of Stephie’s face.

“Never ever too busy for you and I’m especially never too busy to give you kisses Stephie-bean.”

“Promise,” Stephie holds out her pinky finger and Paige diligently intertwines her own through it, pressing a kiss to their now interlocked pinkies.

“Promise.”

Shaking her head fondly at her menace daughter’s antiques, Azzi fixes Claudia’s mother with a sweetly saccharine smile as she wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep. She can feel the blonde’s eyes immediately drift towards her, clearly a little thrown off by her forwardness. It had been Azzi’s go-to-move in college whenever Paige’s fanclub would get a little too handsy. She’d sidle up into her girlfriend’s space, marking her territory as subtly as possible. Azzi knows this is a little different. It had been easier back then to play the action off as a protective best friend warding off boundary-less fans; really it was uncanny the things two girls could get away with under the guise of friendship. But it’s different now that they’re actual adults and she can see the clogs running Claudia’s mother’s head as she starts to piece everything together.

“Hi I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Stephie’s mom, Azzi, nice to meet you,” Azzi says finally, holding out her hand that isn’t still clasped firmly around Paige’s bicep, “I think it’s usually your husband who picks Claudia up from camp right?”

“I’m Stacie,” the woman says, primly returning the handshake, “yeah my husband’s usually the one who picks her up but I had a little time today-”

“Don’t lie Mommy. I heard you on the phone saying you wanted to come pick me up so you could meet Coach Bueckers-”

“Claudia,” Stacie hisses as Azzi narrows her eyes at the woman.

“You said it’s cause you think she’s really hot-” Claudia manages to get out before her mother furiously clamps her hand over her mouth.

“Azzi,” Paige whispers under her breath, wincing slightly as the shooting guard unconsciously tightens her grip, unable to keep the irritation of her face as she all but glares at Claudia’s mother.

“You know kids, they say anything,” Stacie tries to justify, cowering under the sintering heat of Azzi’s stare.

“Right,” the brunette nods with faux understanding, “well if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time for us to go unless-” she turns her gaze onto Paige who looks innocently back at her as she hides a smile against Stephie’s stomach, “unless you’re still busy that is?”

Paige shakes her head affectionately as she tugs her arm out of Azzi’s grip, only so she can lock their pinkies together, the angle of it just out of Stephie’s line of sight, “never too busy for you,” she repeats, “let’s go.”

***

“Mama, will you tell Miss Buecks that I’m not speaking to her,” Stephie says as soon as the three of them get settled into the car.

“What,” Paige shrieks, twisting her head around to look at the little girl who decisively looks away, her tiny hands crossed over her chest.

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat; Paige had insisted on driving this time and she hadn’t bothered fighting against it, “babes I thought you’d gotten over it? You were literally just talking to her.”

“That’s cause I forgot I was mad when Miss Buecks gave me my kisses but I rem-ber now,” Stephie explains.

“Remember what?” Paige asks frantically, “Stephie-bean what did I do?”

The little girl in question makes it a point to turn her nose up and look directly at Azzi as she answers, “Mama will you tell Miss Buecks that she knows what she did.”

“I really, really don’t. Stephie sweetheart please tell me so I can fix it,” Paige tries again, and Azzi lets herself marvel at how the normally jittery-woman seems to have endless patience for her little girl.

“YOU GAVE THE OTHER KIDS HIGH FIVES AND CUDDLES AND HUGS AND YOU EVEN LET CLAUDIA ONTO YOUR LAP,” Stephie bursts out emphatically, “you’re not supposed to do that with anyone but ME.”

“I-” Paige looks over helplessly at Azzi who holds her hands up in surrender, determined not to get in between the two of them and their dramatics.

“You didn’t even ask Uncle Twin to let me be on your team,” Stephie accuses and then like she’s suddenly remembered that she’d made a bold assertion a couple of minutes ago, “Mama could you please tell Miss Buecks that I said all of that.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I have a feeling she might have heard you.”

“Did you like the other kid’s hugs more than you like mine?” the little girl prods, her eyes suddenly glimmering with tears.

“Oh sweetheart of course not,” Paige consoles immediately, “I could never like anyone’s hugs more than yours, you know that. Your hugs are the best things in the whole wide world. And Stephie-bean, I thought you wanted to be with Uncle Twin, you said you missed him.”

“Wanted to be with you more,” Stephie pouts stubbornly, “I don’t wanna share my Miss Buecks with the other kids. I don’t want you to hug them or carry them and you definitely can’t give them kisses.”

“I didn’t even give any of them kisses,” Paige protests.

“Stephie, Miss Buecks is a person, not an object. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss-” Azzi tries to explain but is almost immediately interrupted by Stephie who gives her an unamused look.

“Well is she allowed to hug and carry and kiss Claudia’s Mama then?”

Azzi’s mouth falls open as Paige barely holds in her chuckle at the little girl’s cheeky question, “she absolutely is not allowed to do that.”

“Exactly,” there’s a satisfied grin on Stephie's face as she takes in the still dumbfounded expression on her mother’s face.

“I just- I meant the kids. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss the kids-”

“NO SHE’S NOT.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Paige moves her hands up and down in a calming gesture before she reaches for Stephie hands, “how about this? From now on, I won’t carry any of the other kids and I definitely won’t give them any kisses. But can I at least give them one hug? Just one tiny little hug?”

Stephie ponders over the request for a second, “okay,” she agrees finally, “but only one hug and it can’t be longer than three seconds okay? And then you come and give me three of them right after?”

“Done. I’ll come give you five hugs right after,” Paige grins happily as the two of them shake on it before she turns back around to start driving them towards her house.

“Mama you can tell Miss Buecks that I’m speaking to her again,” Stephie smiles toothily at Azzi through the rearview mirror.

“Really?” Azzi responds sarcastically, “I couldn't have guessed.”

“You know,” Paige drops her voice so Stephie can’t hear them, “you’re being pretty sassy for someone who was just as irrationally jealous as a five year old a couple of minutes ago.”

“I was not jealous,” Azzi says indignantly, repeating herself when Paige’s smirk deepens, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Paige, I was absolutely not jealous.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige hums quietly as she turns the music up in the car, grinning at Stephie through the mirror when one of their new favorites comes on.

Azzi preemptively covers her ears as her soft “oh please don’t start singing-” is immediately drowned out by the two other people in the car beginning to sing at the top of their voices. They barely know the lyrics and they’re definitely not on key and really Azzi’s poor ears are bleeding, but as she’s coerced into reluctantly joining in, she thinks this could still be her favorite sound in the whole wide world.

They’re so enthralled in their cacophony -in each other- as they pull up to Paige’s house, that it takes them a far longer than it should to notice the figure on her porch. It isn’t until they’ve parked in the driveway, and Azzi’s gone around to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag from the back while Paige lifts Stephie onto her shoulders, and they’re finally making their way up the three steps that lead to the deck, that they finally do.

All chatter comes to a halt as the boy -well that’s not quite right; not when he towers over Paige and Azzi as he stands up from where he’d been sitting on the lawn chair. It’s been almost four years since she’d last seen him in person and even then he’d been a fleeting face in the crowd. She’s seen plenty of his clips from the rookie year he’d just finished in the NBA but it isn’t the same as seeing him in the flesh now. So much has changed; the baby fat is gone from his face, he’s lankier and longer and there’s a discernible aura of confidence around him; as is expected from a 20 year old man. Yet, as Azzi lets her gaze wander over him, she sees what she’s always seen. She sees that same innocence, that same kindness, that same drive in his eyes that she’d always found reflected in his sister’s eyes too. She looks at him and she still sees a mini version of her Paige.

***

October 2022

“AZZI,” Drew screams as he runs across the arrival gate, his carry-on suitcase practically abandoned for the flight attendant with him to begrudgingly pick up.

“DREW,” Azzi’s smile widens as the little boy comes to a halt in front of her, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, “oh my god you’ve gotten so much bigger little dude.”

Drew scrunches his nose up at her, “you literally saw me like a month ago.”

“And I think you might have doubled in size since,” she ruffles his hair before turning to the flight attendant who’s not so subtly checking her out, “thank you so much for getting him here safely.”

“Oh just doing my duty m’am, especially for a pretty lady like you,” the man says and Azzi winces at his dated flirting technique.

“This is Azzi,” Drew introduces, irritation seeping into his voice as he tightens his grip on Azzi’s waist, “you know how I told you I’m flying out for my sister’s birthday, this is my sister’s girlfriend and it was her idea to fly me out to surprise my sister. Because you know she’s her girlfriend.”

“Right,” the man grimaces and Azzi has to bite back the laugh threatening to escape as he hastily hands Drew’s suitcase over before barely managing a half-hearted grin, “I um- uh- well I should get back to the uh- plane or something. Tell your- tell your sister happy birthday.”

“Thanks again,” Azzi calls after the man as he all but runs away from them, shaking her head fondly down at Drew who’s giggling into her side.

“You think if I tell Paige he flirted with you, she’d get him fired?” he asks cheekily.

“There’s a nonzero chance that she’d at least try,” Azzi agrees as the two of them start making their way out of the airport and towards her car.

It’s a chilly fall morning and the sun has barely risen in the sky but Drew seems more awake than ever as he practically bounces into the passenger seat, clearly excited to see his sister who has no inkling that he’s coming. The idea had come to Azzi a week or so ago as she’d racked her head for ideas of what to do for Paige for her birthday. She’d done a good job putting up a front for the rest of their team -avidly cheering for them from the sidelines during practice- but Paige had been struggling these last couple of weeks. Azzi knows firsthand what it’s like to watch everyone else play the sport she loves while nursing her own injury and no matter how many i’m fine don’t worry about me spiels she got from her girlfriend, Azzi knew it was killing the point guard to not be out there with their team.

If she could, Azzi would have liked to have miraculously fixed Paige’s torn ACL as her birthday gift but that was wishful thinking. So instead she’d decided on cheering Paige up with the other thing she loved more than playing basketball: spending time with her baby brother. It didn't take that much convincing to get Bob Bueckers -who’d seen just how despondent his daughter had been those first couple of weeks in that gloomy hotel- to allow Drew to take the first half of this week off of school. From then on, the main difficulty had been keeping it a secret from Paige who seemed to have sixth sense for when something was going on behind her back. It didn’t help that Drew had come close to spilling the beans more than a handful of times. But they’d somehow managed it and this morning, Azzi had rolled out of her girlfriend’s arms much earlier than she would have liked to, ready to give Paige the day she deserved.

She glances at the clock. It’s almost 8 and Azzi knows that Paige is probably beginning to stir awake. She can almost picture the likely confusion on her girlfriend’s as she’d reach out for Azzi, only to find the spot next to her empty. As if on cue, the sound of a phone ringing vibrates around the car and Drew’s eyes light up at Paige’s name flashing on the media-board.

“Don’t say a word,” Azzi warns him as she picks up the call.

“WHAT THE HELL AZZI. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Paige’s irritated voice echoes throughout the car, “DO YOU KNOW HOW RUDE IT IS TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAKE UP ALONE IN THE MORNING? ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY?”

Despite Azzi’s warning, Drew snickers loud enough for the speakers to pick it up and the brunette fights the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel when Paige lets out a dramatic gasp.

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU WITH ANOTHER GIRL. ON MY BIRTHDAY?”

“No Paige I am not with another girl-”

“Well it sounds like there’s a girl with you.”

Drew opens his mouth to protest, clearly agitated with his voice potentially being mistaken for a girl’s but Azzi’s quicker, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth.

“I am not with-”

“Wait. Why did that voice sound so familiar?” Paige asks and Azzi can picture her scrunching her nose through the phone, “it can’t be any of the girls. I think I saw all of them in their apartments while I was looking for you but it sounds so-”

“It’s no one,” Azzi says hurriedly, “I’m just picking up something for your birthday.”

“I don’t want anything for my birthday,” Paige grumbles, “just wanted to wake up to my beautiful gorgeous girlfriend but no, you couldn’t just let me have that.”

A soft blush, tinted with hues of you make my imperfection feel perfect, creeps up Azzi’s cheeks as Drew teasingly waggles his eyebrows at her, “I promise I have something even better for you.”

“What could possibly be better than morning se-”

“Celebratory cuddles. Right yes what could be better than morning celebratory cuddles,” Azzi babbles, ignoring the weird look Drew gives her as she tries to prevent them from falling in the ditch her girlfriend is unknowingly about throw them into, “oh my won’t you look at that, that sign has all the reasons I shouldn’t try to talk and drive.”

“Baby what? Are you having a stroke. That’s not a thing-

“Oh it totally is and I really have to hang up. Love you baby, see you soon!’

“Azzi-” a loud beep rings through Paige’s protests as Azzi rushes to cut the call, slumping back in her seat with a sigh.

“Morning celebratory cuddles?” if she wasn’t so embarrassed she would laugh at the side-eye Drew shoots her, “y’all are so weird.”

“Watch it. I will send you back to Minnesota.”

“No you won't,” it’s uncanny how Drew has Paige’s exact smile as he goofily grins at her, “you love Paigey way too much to do that to me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, “yeah maybe just a little bit.”

There’s peaceful silence in the car for a while as Drew leans back in his seat, looking thoughtfully out the window. Azzi feels excitement bubble in her stomach in anticipation for Paige’s reaction to seeing her little brother. For as long as she’s known her girlfriend, she’s always known just how special Drew is to her; he’d been more a child to her than a brother and although it hasn’t been that long since Paige has seen him, Azzi could still hear the wistfulness in her voice every night she’d said good-bye to him on the phone. She feels giddy just knowing that seeing Drew again will put that earnest, loving smile she loves so much on Paige’s face. That smile, Azzi thinks, might just be the reason her world keeps turning.

“Hey Azzi?” Drew says slowly, “can I ask you something?”

“Course you can kid. You can ask me whatever you want,” Azzi reaches out to squeeze the little boy’s hand as he fidgets in his seat.

“Do you-” he hesitates, sucking in a deep breath, “do you think two people can stay together forever?”

Azzi’s taken aback by the gravity of the question, not having expected to deal with heavy-hitting ones like this so early in the morning. And really the truth is Azzi doesn’t know how to answer this question. It’s the kind of question her own brain conjures up sometimes and she has to distract herself from the way it makes her heart constrict because what if two people can’t stay together forever?

“That’s a heavy question,” she says finally, “where’s this coming from?”

Drew shrugs and his tone teeters on the edge of defensiveness when he answers, “just some things I think about sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully, “I’d like to think some people can. I mean my parents have been together for a really long time and I’d like to think they’ll stay together forever.”

“How about you and Paigey?” Drew prods.

There’s an answer of yes that tastes like asphalt on the top of Azzi’s tongue and so much of her wants to spit it out and have that be the answer she gives Drew. But there are these uneasy shackles of uncertainty, of what if’s, of who knows what the future could do to us, that stops her. And she doesn’t know why she’s so scared of saying yes. Because if she’s honest with herself Azzi can’t really fathom a forever without her girlfriend; not when sometimes it feels like instead of a heart, it’s Paige that beats rhythmically against her ribcage.

“I really, really hope so,” she whispers.

“Azzi,” Drew’s voice is coated in sincerity and the brunette hums in response, “you won’t ever hurt my Paigey will you?”

And there it is again, the unpredictability of what could happen next that’s beginning to feel a little suffocating. She wants to give Drew a resounding no because Azzi would rather drive a dagger through her skin before letting Paige get so much as a paper cut but life is so fickle and she’s scared of making a promise she can’t keep. So she makes one that she swears she can.

“I promise that I will try my absolute best not to hurt your Paigey.”

***

May 2033

“Well,” Drew Bueckers sneers, his tone filled with contempt as he takes in the way Paige, Azzi and Stephie are practically wrapped into each other, don’t you guys just look so fucking cozy.”

There’s a sinister tension-filled quiet as the three adults -god it’s weird to include Drew as an adult but Azzi supposes that that’s what he is now- look between each other.

“Umm you owe me a kiss,” Stephie cuts into the silence.

“What?” Drew scrunches his face at the little girl.

“You said a bad word,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “and Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. So Miss Buecks,” Drew's eyes narrow at the nickname as the little girl lightly taps Paige’s shoulder, “can you turn around and move closer so he can give me a kiss?”

“You don’t, you don’t have to do that-” Azzi tries to intervene.

“Yes he does Mama,” Stephie interupts her indignantly, “rules are rules right?’

“Stephie-”

“Rules are rules,” it’s Drew who cuts Azzi off this time, his previously stoic face morphing into something warmer as he takes a step closer to her daughter and presses his lips against her turned cheek, “there you go. Am I forgiven for saying a bad word now?”

Stephie grins up at him and Azzi feels a wave of this is how it always should have been pinching at her heart she watches the two of them.

“You’re forgiven but you have to promise not to do it again.”

“I don’t make promises like that kid,” there’s an unspoken accusation as Drew keeps up a smile towards Stephie but his eyes dart for the briefest second towards the two women around him, “but I promise I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Stephie accepts happily as she reaches over Paige’s shoulder to press her own lips against Drew’s cheek.

“What was that for?’ he asks a little dazedly.

Stephie shrugs, “because I think I’m gonna like you.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers finally, gently letting the little girl off of her shoulders, “what are you- what are you doing here?”

“What? A guy can’t just come visit his sister anymore?” there’s an unfamiliar hard edge to Drew’s voice -a stark contrast from how he’d been with Stephie- that makes Azzi flinch.

“Of course he can but I just- you didn’t- you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Paige presses.

“Well we've been talking about me coming down for a while but it just hasn’t happened and so I thought- I thought why not just come surprise you but-” Drew purses his lips as he gestures to the trio in front of him, “I think I might be the one who’s surprised.”

“Drew-”

“Actually you know what no,” he clenches his jaw, voice dripping with barely controlled anger, “I’m actually not surprised. Not surprised at all. Because really this- this is exactly what I should have expected from the two of you.”

“Maybe,” Azzi nibbles at her bottom, “maybe we should go-’

“NO,” both Stephie and Paige yell out in tandem as the little girl immediately clutches onto the blonde’s thighs.

“I don’t wanna go. Miss Buecks tell Mama I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re staying right here with me,” Paige reassures the little girl as she turns her gaze back to Azzi, “you’re not going anywhere okay?”

“Paige-”

“I asked you to stay tonight and you’re going to stay. End of discussion,” Paige says firmly and Azzi lets out a reluctant sight.

“You asked her to stay? As in stay the night? Oh my god,” Drew scoffs maliciously.

“Drew,” there’s a warning tone in Paige’s voice as she deattaches herself from Stephie, keeping her voice low, “not right now okay?”

Her brother rolls his eyes, grunting out a “whatever,” but listening to his older sister like he always had and suddenly Azzi feels nostalgic for the little boy she had once known.

“You’re so tall,” she blurts out, grimacing slightly when he turns to her with a frown.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean I knew that. I’ve seen some of your highlights and I knew I mean- I knew you were taller and that you’ve gotten bigger and that you’d look stronger and all of that but I just-” Azzi gulps between her babbling, “you just- you look different Drew.”

There’s a shine of warmth in Drew’s gaze for a second but it flickers away faster than it had appeared and his eyes are cold with flecks of betrayal as he looks at Azzi, “that’s what happens as people get older isn’t it? I wouldn’t look so different to you if you’d been around to see me grow up.”

There’s venom laced in every word and Paige immediately opens her mouth to argue with him, but Azzi wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Because even if the words seep into her skin and infect it with bruises of guilt and regret, Azzi thinks she probably deserves them. She’d been in Drew’s world for so long and then one day, she just hadn’t been. She thinks he probably could have spewed something even more poisonous and she just might have deserved that too.

“Are you sleeping over too, Uncle Drew?” Stephie asks softly, unaffected by the tenseness of the adults around her.

“Uncle Drew?” Drew asks slowly.

Stephie nods with a grin, “Miss Buecks called you Drew and that’s when I figured it out. Mama and Miss Buecks have told me stories about you and there’s some pictures of you from when you were littler at Nana and Pop's house,” she rambles and Drew’s eyes soften at the idea of Stephie knowing of his existence, “ and just in case you don’t know who I am even though you should,” she gives him a pointed look as if everyone should know who the little girl is, “I’m Stephie. And you’re my Miss Buecks’s brother so that means you’re my Uncle Drew.”

“Right that um-” Drew clears his throats, “that makes sense Stephie.”

“So Uncle Drew, are you sleeping over too?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

“YAY!” Stephie squeals as she laces her fingers through Drew and begins to pull him towards the front door, “so Uncle Drew what’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Something wonderful flutters in Azzi’s chest as she watches the two of them interact -it’s a little bit like seeing the past and present harmonically blend into one- but despite that, despite the reassurance that Paige squeezes against her hand, there’s an uneasiness lingering in the back of her mind. That wretched but familiar fear of the future weaves itself through her heart. Between the frostiness from Drew and whatever secret Paige is keeping from her, Azzi can’t help but wonder if these last couple of weeks had simply been a mirage. She can’t help but wonder if this bubble of happiness that they’ve built is about to be burst by a needle of circumstance again.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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peachhcs · 1 month ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/768260981215330304/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs767959888939941888

okay so freaking cute.

i can’t wait to see them in san jose.

totally see them having really soft sex because of her shoulder and will just being so gentle.

a weekend in san jose

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

part 11!! WOW guys i made this into a lovely 6.3k fic filled with lots of fuff and a bit of smut! i got super carried away and because everyone seems to like longer fics sometimes, i put this all into one part woohoo (can also be read as a stand alone if u really want)

i made note in big red letters where the smut starts and ends so if you don't wanna read it, you can just skip past it. :)

if you do read the smut though warnings are: hickeys, making out, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, swearing, i think that's it? just read at ur own risk and skip if u don't wanna read! :) but anyways, enjoy this long fic!!!!!!!!! this may be the last part of this side plot unless there's more you guys think of and if you do pls send my way and i will happily write it

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

samy was in san jose the next weekend. she came out of her gate in search of will who told her he'd meet her there, so her eyes scanned the crowd for his familiar blonde curls. there were so many people pushing and shoving their way through, she forgot how busy san jose's airport was compared to ann arbor.

finally, the brunette found will's taller figure near the edge of the crowd. she quickly grinned, raising her hand so he'd see her before navigating herself towards him. she came out on the other side of the crowd embracing her boyfriend in a tight hold. he held her tightly, spinning the two around a bit.

"hi, so good to see you," the girl mumbled into his shoulder.

"glad you made it safely. it's good to see you too," will cheered, pulling back so he could see her face. his hands caressed her cheek, quickly pecking her lips and then pulling her back towards the exit.

"mack's waiting with the car in kind of an illegal parking spot, so we gotta hurry back," will explained his fast pace while samy just giggled. typical.

"don't tell me you parked in the pick up lane," she raised her eyebrow. when will didn't say anything the girl hit his arm and rolled her eyes.

"what? i wasn't gonna spend an hour fighting with someone in the parking garage," he defended himself because why would he waste his time in there when he could sort of illegally park in the pick up line for ten minutes?

will navigated them through the busy airport in five minutes, way faster than samy would have gotten herself out. the warm san jose air hit her skin like a refreshing drink after spending so much time in the cold back in michigan. she giggled as the blonde pulled her towards his fancy bronco—one of the first things will spent his new money on.

"wow, i haven't seen the car in person yet," she admired how clean and sleek it looked compared to her parent's old ford suv she drove around back home. (and it was actually jack's before it was hers)

"nice, isn't it?" will grinned proudly as he helped samy get her suitcase into the back.

"hey samy!" mack exclaimed from where he moved himself to the backseat. the only rule in will's car was that samy got passenger seat anytime she was around.

"hey mack!" the girl exclaimed and ran around to quickly hug in before getting into the front.

will was in a moment later and the three of them rolled out before an officer gave them a ticket for parking in the pick up line.

"it's good to see you, mack. i haven't seen you since the draft," samy grinned.

"you too. i'm excited you're visiting this weekend. smitty was yapping in my ear yesterday about all the plans he had for you guys," the younger brunette said making will flush in slight embarassment. samy found it endearing though.

"ooh, i can't wait. i haven't been up since we moved him in at the beginning of august," the girl poked her boyfriend's arm to which he just grabbed her hand to hold it.

macklin smirked from the backseat, remembering the conversation he poked at will about a month ago about his driving. it all made sense to the shark player now.

"well when you and will aren't off doing whatever, sennecke and i wanna catch up with you. he said he'd drive up to hang out like tomorrow or something," macklin said.

"wait, yeah. i wanna see him beck. i told him i'd see him whenever i was here," samy grinned. beckett and mack were the two "freshmen" she adopted and basically took under her wing at the draft this past summer and with such busy schedules, she hadn't been able to see them since.

"not to put a dent in your plans or anything smitty," macklin eyed his friend in the front seat. will just shrugged.

"all good, we have like three-ish days to do stuff. i haven't seen much of beckett either so it'd be cool to see him," will nodded in agreement and the other two smiled.

will dropped macklin back off at his place and then went back around the block to the house. he helped samy with her luggage again and led the way into the marleau household.

"just a fair warning, pat's youngest kids will go a little crazy at first because..you know..you're quinn, jack, and luke's little sister," will chuckled a bit before he opened the door. samy flushed, a smile gracing her lips.

"dont worry, i can handle it," and with that, will carefully opened the front door.

the commotion could be heard loud and clear. it was definitely a boy house with the tv on loud and voices already arguing about something as the couple stepped in.

"hey guys, will's back with samy!" patrick saw them first where he got up from the couch to greet them.

christina came out from the kitchen with the youngest boys behind her. the older ones got from the couch too. "hi samy! it's so good to finally meet you. we've heard a bunch about you," chrisitina grinned, going in for a hug.

"it's so good to finally meet you guys too," she hugged her back and then went to give a quick hug to patrick.

"welcome to our home for the weekend! these are our boys—landon, brody, jagger, and caleb," patrick introduced the boys who shyly waved at the girl.

"you're quinn's sister!" caleb exclaimed making the others laugh. samy smiled, bending down so she was eye level with him.

"i am. maybe i can score you a signed puck or something," the girl laughed and she loved the way caleb's face lit up at that idea.

"why don't you guys get settled in and then i have some lunch whenever you're hungry," christina smiled and samy thanked them for letting her stay before following will upstairs.

she admired how will already hung up some of the things that were on his walls at boston. she especially liked the framed pictures of her and him on his nightstand.

"those boys are adorable," she turned to him as he set down her suitcase and shut the door.

"they're pretty funny. maybe they can convince you to play some driveway hockey with them," will chuckled.

"oh, 100%. they seem so nice, i'm glad you've found a home here with them," samy sat down on the bed to just take it all in and catch her breath after the plane ride and meeting everyone.

will quickly joined her. "it's..it's the life alright. i'm grateful for how kind they've been to me."

"i mean, duh. who wouldn't wanna be kind to you," the soccer player laughed as she reached over to pinch her boyfriend's cheek. he took that as his opportunity to take ahold of her hand and bring her in for a better kiss than their peck at the airport.

this one was a lot slower and filled with more love. samy curled her good arm around his neck where she toyed with the little curls on the back of his neck. her hand brushed against his chest and will curled his own fingers around her own.

"i love you. i'm glad you're here. this is gonna be really fun," the boy hummed when they pulled apart.

"i love you too, handsome. can't wait to beat your ass in driveway hockey later," she teased and will rolled his eyes.

"alright. don't gotta go that far."

"you're just mad because you know i will, even with a hurt shoulder," the brunette smirked. luckily, she was able to graduate from a bulky sling to a shoulder brace that still kept everything in place, but she had a bit more mobility than before.

plus, even though it was her right shoulder, she shot with her opposite arm and hand in hockey so she'd have no problem taking down will and the marleau kids.

later that afternoon, samy did exactly that. all the marleau boys were out in the driveway with will and samy as they teamed themselves off to play against one another. samy got brody and landon, the older ones, for the first round and she already knew they were gonna kick will's butt.

she ran right past will's feet and passed the ball they were playing with towards landon. he swiped past his brothers to shoot it right into the back of the neck. samy and brody cheered while will groaned.

"you have a hurt shoulder, i'm not gonna go hard on you," the blonde complained and made an weak excuse for the loss.

"come on, babe. i'm not broken. i can still play. you don't gotta go easy on me," samy said.

"if you say that, i am gonna go hard on you and then end up hurting you more, so i'm good," will said as the six of them sit themselves back up.

"will hurting his girlfriend? ooh.." jagger said making everyone but will laugh.

"someone record it!" samy added into the teasing which will just shook his head to.

they played for the rest of the night until christina called them in for dinner. samy got to know the marleau's more while she told them about her life at michigan and the legacy her and her brothers were leaving on the field and on the ice.

once they finsihed, will and samy hung out downstairs for a bit before calling it a night knowing there was a lot to do tomorrow with will's extensive itinerary.

"i love those kids," samy commented from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth.

"they're really great. they're always bugging me to play with them," will smiled.

"that's so cute. they probably look up to you so much in addition to their dad. i hope you cherish that," the brunette hummed.

"oh, i do, don't worry. it keeps me motivated when they watch the games and see how i do."

the youngest hughes shut the light off and eagerly crawled into will's bed. this was her favorite part about getting to visit and sleeping in the same bed together. will was always so warm, so it was especially nice when they were in michigan or boston and it was below 30 degrees. even now it added that extra comfort as the girl snuggled in close to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his torso. the sleep came faster than it had all semester and she was out in minutes with will not too fard behind her.

—

will picked macklin up again the next day as they headed downtown to the place they would meet beckett for lunch. the younger brunette was pretty chipper as he climbed into the back, probably because it wasn't 7 in the morning for once when will picked him up.

"how was your night?" macklin wondered, definitely smirking.

"it was great, how was yours?" samy asked.

"mine was great, too. did you guys—"

"macklin" will warned before the boy finished his sentence. samy just giggled.

"i was gonna ask if the boys dragged you out to play driveway hockey," macklin kept talking even though they all knew that wasn't his original question.

"they did. i beat will in an overwhelming 6-2," samy proudly said.

"6-2? jeez, smitty. you got distracted or something?" the younger brunette burst into laughter making will's cheeks flush.

"shut up," will mumbled while samy poked his cheek.

"he's just mad i can still beat him with a hurt shoulder."

the three made mindless conversation as they rode into the city. samy caught macklin up on everything happening at mich and a few things on her brothers. macklin caught samy up on things she did and didn't hear from will about the sharks and life in san jose so far. it all sounded like it was going really well which made the girl happy.

will rolled them into a parking spot just outside of the restaurant, "i think he's almost here or is here," macklin checked his phone.

a bright orange range rover rolled into the parking space two down from where they were just as macklin said that. everyone knew it had to be beckett considering the orange matcbed the anaheim colors perfectly. they all got out and sure enough, beckett's tall frame got out of the car.

he smiled widely when he saw them. "hey guys!" the younger boy exclaimed as he locked the car and hurried over to them.

"hey, beck! it's been so long," samy hugged him first which he reciporcated into a tight squeeze.

"it's so good to see you in california. hey, celly, smitty," the other two boys took their turn saying hello.

"your car is awesome, by the way. orange is very fitting," samy pointed to the car.

"oh, thanks. my mom thought it would be fun for me to get it wrapped, so i did. pretty sick isn't it?" everyone nodded in agreement before heading inside to get a table.

the four ended up on the outside patio where macklin was the first to get conversation going and ask about beckett's season so far. the younger boy excitedly explained how much experience he's been gaining and getting to make friends with the older guys on the team. of course, samy asked him about trevor for jack's sake.

"oh, he's super funny and a great mentor. he's got a lot of good tips for all the rookies," beckett smiled.

"i'll make sure to tell jack that, then," samy chuckled.

"what about all of you? the sharks have been really moving up with the recent wins," the ducks player turned the conversation to the other two boys.

"yeah, i mean it's been awesome. we're all definitely improving which i think is really good. get to spend all my time with mack over here," will roughed up his friend's shoulder making the brunette pull away from his grasp.

"totally. i love annoying him. my favorite activity, actually," macklin grinned.

"michigan has always been doing really good this season. do you think you guys are making it to the finals again?" beckett turned the conversation to samy.

"i hope so. we've definitely turned the program around in the last year, so i'm excited to see what else we can do," the girl grinned.

"sorry about your shoulder, by the way. i know that must suck," the younger boy commented and samy just shrugged.

"it's not horrible anymore. i actually beat will in driveway hockey last night so that has to mean i'm doing better," the youngest hughes teased her boyfriend again.

"damn, i mean yeah. what was the score?"

"6-2."

"6-2? smitty, what happened?" beckett had the same reaction as macklin making him and samy laugh again.

"alright, alright, i get it. i suck when my girlfriend does any competitive sport against me," the blonde shook his head, but smiled nonetheless.

the three spent the rest of lunch catching up with one another before deciding to walk around downtown a bit since beckett nor samy had been before. macklin and will took the honors of pointing things out and taking them into the shops they thought were cool.

samy's eye was caught when they made it into a small boutique. she quickly admired all of the jewlery and clothes up on the racks. will watched the girl carefully, a soft smile on his lips as he followed her around the store and let her use him to carry the things she wanted to try on.

"hey, we'll be right back," will called when samy pulled him back into the dressing room. macklin and beckett just exchanged a glance before snickering to themselves and letting the couple be.

will just stood on the outside of the stall though, handing things to samy when she asked for them and rating the things she put on. she came out in a very pretty, short, maroon dress with little flowers as the straps. will's eyes never left her as she did a small spin and he basically eyed her up and down. the color reminded him of boston.

"i really like this, but i don't know when or where i'd wear it," samy said as she looked back at herself in the mirror.

"i could think of a time," will subconsciously licked his lips earning a bright blush from the girl in front of him.

"alright, lover boy. i'm gonna change and then we can keep going," samy chuckled and shut herself back into the stall.

even though there was no occasion, samy decided to buy the red dress. she was at the register quite literally about to tap her card when will quickly slipped in and beat her to it, the payment processing onto his card instead.

"will," the girl looked at him in surprise.

"what?" he grinned.

"you didn't have to pay," samy frowned. him paying for her ticket here was already enough.

"and?"

not wanting to get into it in the store, samy decided to let it go as will grabbed the bag before she could. "thank you," she said as they walked away.

"anything for you," he kissed her cheek and they met back up with beckett and macklin outside.

"wow, you're so whipped," macklin commented when he saw will carrying samy's bag for her. beckett snickered.

"you'll understand when you have a girlfriend," will hummed, not even caring about the teasing anymore.

they stopped by a few more places before deciding to head back. everyone hugged beckett and made promises to see one another again and that beckett would try to see samy when the ducks came to detroit in a few weeks.

for november, it was surprisingly hot in san jose, so they rolled the windows down as soon as they were back in the car. will let samy control the aux, so she scrolled through her spotify looking for the right playlist as will got back onto the road to home.

one her favorites came up first which happened to be tate mcae's nwest song, two hands. the beat quickly brought the mood up and it felt perfect with the windows down. she started singing the lyrics, sticking her hand out to catch the breeze, imagining she was in the music video.

macklin and will nodded along also big fans of tate's music. samy's hair blew everywhere from the wind and she didn't see the way will's gaze kept flicking to her as she sang along. one of his guilty pleasures was listenng to tate mcrae's songs and it was the cherry on top listening to it with his girlfriend right beside him who loved her music just as much.

will thought of the lyrics, specifically the way samy sang them, especially when tate sang "i want them all to see, you look good on top of me." the blonde's mind ran a bit wild and he tried keeping his thoughts under control knowing this wasn't the time to be thinking of that.

but boy, it was hard not to and will wondered if samy was having the same thoughts.

they dropped macklin back off and will quite literally sped back to the house, samy a bit oblivious to the thoughts running through her boyfriend's head.

much to will's luck, the house was empty when they got in. he remembered that jagger had a basketball game and the older boys were still at practice, so he was gonna use all the time he had and pulled samy to the stairs.

"what's up with you?" samy laughed as she followed the hockey player into his room, lifting an eyebrow when he shut and locked the door behind them.

"i really wanna kiss you," the boy mumbled and then closed the space between them without letting samy respond.

he held her face in her hands as she let him kiss her. it was quick but passionate as the two melted into one another. samy felt will's eagerness as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and sucked her bottom lip into his.

"you're so beautiful," will mumbled between kissing and pulling back an inch for air.

"not that i'm complaining, but what's sparked this?" samy hummed as she ran her finger dow his sharp jaw.

"something about that song and you singing it had my head spinning," will confessed. the brunette smirked, a bit surprised to hear this.

"oh really?"

"figured we could test it out, you know?"

———SMUT STARTS HERE———

a wide smile spread across both of their faces as they reconnect their lips. will pushed samy back onto the bed where she laid down and he hovered above her. he remembered her shoulder, so he forced himself to slow down a bit so he wouldn't hurt her. he leaned on her good side as they made out.

samy's hands tangled into will's curls and a soft moan left his lips into hers. they really took this moment in, feeling every part of each other pushing against one another. will's hands curved around samy's hips as he worked her hips againsy his own, pressing his hardening dick against her thigh.

"shit, baby," the blonde moaned out. he was really trying to take his time knowing he didn't wanna hurt the girl even worse, but it was hard when his brain was so wired up at the moment.

samy moaned at the feeling of will's excitement agains her leg. one of her hands fell down to his chest again where she tugged at his shirt as indication that she wanted it off. the boy obliged, sitting up to peel the material off and exposing his very toned chest to her.

"every time i'm wowed by you," samy hummed as she admired will's six pack and toned muscles across his upper half.

"i'm flattered," he grinned, reconnecting their lips.

he helped samy get her own shirt off which revealed the pretty bralette underneath. will had such a bad thing for her tits as he immediately dipped his head down and started sucking the plump flesh. the girl giggled, wrapping her fingers into his curls again to give occasional tugs.

it was a really good thing samy wasn't playing at the moment so will could leave his hickeys or love bites he liked to call them now.

"shit, baby," the girl moaned when will brought his lips to her nipple. he prided himself in her reaction and sucked harder while going and back and forth between the two.

samy began arching her back off the bed into will as he hit all the right places and her skin became littered with dark bruises that only he would know were there.

that thought had will's cock twitching in the restrictive material of his shorts and a groan leaving his lips at the feeling of samy's bare tits pressing against his chest.

"fuck, babe," he muttered, pulling his lips away.

will started moving down. he placed little kisses all the way down samy's stomach until he reached her shorts. he smirked when he saw the look of desperation on her face for him to take them off.

"want these off?" he wondered and the girl nodded.

"please."

will pulled them down her legs where that pink fucking thong that drove the boy crazy hid underneath. his mouth watered at the sight, getting flashbacks to august. "god, i love this fucking thing," he grumbled, hooking his fingers around the band and pulling to make a snap against her skin.

"wore it just for you," a smirk graced her lips making will shake his head.

"i fucking love you," will leaned down to press little kisses around her hip bone that eventually turned into him sucking hickeys because these were the places no one would ever see but him and the thought drove the boy more crazy.

the little whimpers escpaing samy's lips was doing nothing to help the problem in will's pants that he tried to desperately ignore. he wanted to focus on samy and her pleasure, trying to forget about his own for now.

"fuck, you're dripping," will said when he pressed his fingers against the thin, very wet material of her thong.

"you're not the only one with eager thoughts," samy smiled lazily as she watched her boyfriend push her the material to the side so he could slide his fingers against her.

she threw her head back into the pillow when he started pushing them into her warm heat.

"fuck, will," a moan escaped her lips.

"god, you're so wet, baby. fuck," will slid two fingers in, slowly pumping in and out and in and out to get samy ready for the real thing.

he figured he needed to get her really ready because they didn't do anything when he visited michigan considering she just had surgery. this time was a completely different story though and it was safe to say they were both craving this.

"oh my god, will. faster, please," samy begged a little.

will pumped faster before dipping his head down and replacing his fingers with his tongue. the sensation made the girl jump a little, not expecting his tongue. the surprise was quickly replaced with immense pleasure though as will worked his mouth around.

"s-shit, will. oh my god," she grabbed his curls and tugged, basically using him to move him where she wanted.

considering will didn't do this a lot, he was pretty fucking good at it. he took samy's moans as a sign that he was doing it right and let her control him with tugs on his curls. she pushed her hips further against the boy's tongue, her orgasm close.

"fuck, will. i'm gonna cum," she cried.

"cum for me, baby," will encouraged, sucking harder.

the feeling sent the soccer player over the edge. she released right on will's lips and tongue, tugging his hair hard. the blonde smiled, licking his lips as he sat back up.

"did so good for me, baby," the blonde praised, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to her lips. she flushed, slowly coming down from her high.

will leaned himself against her again and samy felt how hard he was now, still straining through the tight material of his shorts. his hips jerked forward when samy rubbed herself up against him.

"s-shit. i'm so hard for you," will moaned into her mouth.

"better do something about that, huh?"

the hockey player sat back on his heels as he unzipped his shorts, puling them and his underwear down in one go. his cock sprang up, the tip red and leaking some precum already. samy's mouth watered seeing her boyfriend's thick, throbbing cock before her.

"f-fuck," the blonde muttered as he pumped himself a few times. he leaned forward to fish out a condom from his nightstand, quickly breaking the wrapper and rolling it on.

"need to be inside you," he mumbled, eyes back on his girlfriend.

"want you to fuck me, will," samy begged a bit also eager for him to put it in.

will hovered over her again, lining himself up with her entrance. he slowly pushed in, ducking his head into the crook of her neck. they both moaned out at the first contact. the urge to cum already so strong.

"oh fuck, baby. you feel so good," will groaned, slowly rocking himself in and fighting all of his urges to just poud into her. he needed to be slow for her sake and not hurting her.

"yeah, baby. fuck, you're so big," samy moaned into his ear, her fingers scratching up his back as she let the pleasure overtake the slight pain since they hadn't done this in so long.

her walls sucked him in and he paused when he bottomed out to give the brunette a second to catch her breath. he kissed her lips, struggling to hold onto his self-control and not pound his hips.

"tell me i can move," the way she squeezed around him had his urge to cum slip fast.

"yes, move, please," samy nodded, so he started rocking his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm.

they moaned out as the pace continued building and will littered more kisses across her chest and lips. her tits pressed against his own chest again and will moaned at the feeling of her nipples rocking and bouncing against his skin with each trust.

"fuck, baby. oh—you feel so good—fuck," he wasn't gonna last. "you're squeezing me so good, practically sucking me in," the boy continued.

"feels so good, baby. shit. keep doing that," samy praised him as well, her grip getting harder on his biceps.

will was rocking his hips at a strong pace that moved the bed along with them. he was so glad no one was home right now or else he'd never be able to show his face ever again.

"mm, fuck yeah. oh, fuck yeah. you're gonna make me cum," will blabbered, the only thought in his mind was the one lyric and how he was quite literally on top of samy.

"cum for me will. wanna cum with you," samy got out.

little beads of sweat began building between their bodies and will directed his gaze to where he disappeared in and out of her. the way she sucked him so tight was gonna send the boy over the edge as his self-control slipped away.

"fuck. fuck. i'm gonna cum..i-i'm gonna fucking cum. please say you're close," the blonde cried, his hips now practically pounding into her even though he told himself to take it easy.

"i'm so close, baby. so close."

he felt her clenching around his length which meant she was about to cum. will thrusted a bit harder, hoping to push her over the edge for a second time. she buried her head into the pillow, her chest risng again to push against will's. he groaned, mesmerized with the way her tits bounced back and forth with each snap of his hips.

the sensation sent samy over the edge. she moaned loudly, releasing around will's throbbing cock that had been waiting for her to go first. the tight clench and squeeze sent the blonde over the edge too. he snapped his hips one last time into her, releasing into the condom with a moan.

"ah, fuckkk baby. jesus christ. fhhuck," the blonde's hips twitched, his sweaty body collapsing onto hers as he spilled all of his cum into the condom.

samy dragged her hand through his curls, grinning while peppering kisses across his face. "so good, will. did so good."

"fucking love you so much. we should put that song on more often," will smirked, placing his own soft kisses across her face.

he slowly pulled out, pealing the condom off and running it to the bathroom. he came back with a towel to clean up the rest of their mess. samy watched lovingly as her boyfriend cleaned her up before snuggling into her side for a moment.

"too bad i can't leave any bites on you," samy hummed when she saw how bare will's neck and chest looked compared to hers. they didn't want to risk fans seeing the marks during the season.

"you still can lower than my shoulders," the blonde smirked.

the brunette hated not returning the favor, so she pushed will onto his back and dipped her head below her shoulders which definitely resulted in will getting hard again and a second round.

———SMUT ENDS HERE———

on the last night samy was there, will planned a fancy date night at one of the restaurants downtown. she wore the dress she just bought and it was a miracle they even left the house because when will saw her come out of the bathroom, let's just say his mind ran wild again.

the atmosphere was definitely very high end and it felt like they were amongst the rich people who lived in the area on a saturday night out.

"i'm glad you came out," will grinned.

"thanks for buying my ticket again. i really appreciate it," samy grinned back.

"there's a lot more where that came from," the girl rolled her eyes a bit at his words despite the smile still on her lips.

"i'd have you out here every weekend if i could, you know that," will swirled some of his drink around in the glass, a mix between a smile and smirk on his features.

"yeah, i know. i wish. i'll probably see you soon though. when are you guys playing detroit?"

"in a few weeks i think," the hockey player hummed, the schedule not on the top of his head.

"so you'll see me then and maybe by then i'll be able to actually play," the girl scoffed a bit, but will just shook his head.

"i know it sucks, but you've been doing really good. you're gonna be back on the field in no time," he grabbed her hand from across the table. the gesture made her blush.

"i know, i know. i guess i have to think of new hobbies or something," they shared a laugh.

after dinner, they walked around downtown some more just trying to take everything in and spend every second they could together before samy's flight back home tomrorow. granted, will was still going crazy over the maroon dress hugging all the right places on his girlfriend's body, especially because it was so boston college colors, so their walk around downtown didn't last for long.

will was impatient and quite literally eager to have his girlfriend one more time because she needed to leave. his lips were on hers when they made it into the parking garage and he was pushing her against the car.

he knew the house would be full when they got back, so will did the one thing he promised macklin he'd never do—have sex in his car.

it was the best sex will ever had in the car though.

—

they got to the airport close to 6 in the morning, even earlier than when morning practice started. samy's flight was at 9 though and she wanted to be there early, so will got himself up to drive her and macklin tagged along to say goodbye too.

the drop off line gave the three deja-vu as will parked to the side and got out to help with the luggage. macklin yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eye as he got out too.

the two boys stood in front of the entrance where samy was about to disappear into.

"alright, i'll go first since smitty will take decades to let you go," macklin took the lead by opening his arms. "it was good seeing you, hughesy. we'll see you super soon."

"it was soo good seeing you, mack. keep will in line for me, yeah?" the girl joked a bit, eyeing the blonde behind them who playfully rolled his eyes.

"obviously, i will," they laughed and then macklin pulled away.

samy's gaze fell to will's sad one. she opened his arms for him where he buried his face into the crook of her neck, squeezing her tightly. "i'm gonna miss you so much."

"me too, but you'll be michigan in just a few weeks," she tried looking on the positives for them or else will would just make it really sad.

"i know, but it seems so far away," the blonde frowned.

"it'll go fast, i promise. i love you," the youngest hughes pulled back to see will's pretty face. he smiled, breathing her in one last time.

"i love you, too baby. get back safe. text me when you land," he hummed and she nodded.

they hugged one last time before samy pulled back because if she didn't they'd never let go of each other. she waved to the boys before heading inside. they waved back, will blowing her kisses until they couldn't see her anymore and some car behind them honked to get moving.

"fuck off," will said as him and macklin climbed back in.

they were basically half-asleep still, so much that when the brunette got back into the passenger seat, he didn't realize how pushed back it was so he basically fell onto his back when he got in. it caught both of them off guard.

"what the fuck happened to this seat," macklin grumbled as he fixed it so it was more upright and not as pushed back.

the realization hit him faster than will remembered the reasoning and then macklin's jaw dropped open.

"HOLY SHIT! you fucked in here! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," the younger brunette began freaking out and will internally face palmed.

"dude, chill. chill. i promise i cleaned everything," will tried calming his friend down.

"dude, i can't believe this. oh my god, that's fucking disgusting. you said you'd never fuck in here!" the boy exclaimed.

"we had no other options! i swear it's clean," will defended himself. macklin didn't have anything else to say except shaming his head and the car behind them honked it's horn again.

will quickly drove out of the line, suddenly embarrassed that he forgot to fix the seat. he also worried macklin actually was mad until the brunette asked:

"so on a scale of 1-10 how good was it?"

there it was. it wasn't even 7 in the morning yet.

"dude," will shook his head.

"what? i feel like i deserve to know after you betrayed me like that."

"it was actually really fucking good. 10 for sure," will gave in with his answer.

"you know what? hell yeah. high five me for that one," macklin held his hand up. the blonde smacked it, a content smile on his lips now.

"now drive fast so i can get out of this car and go back to bed."

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flurry-of-stars · 4 months ago

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈-𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂⋆｡°✩ 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 - 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙𝓘𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖝 ⋆｡°✩ Emotional conflict and distress. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 8k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Man...it has been a while. I've had this sitting in my drafts since May. It feels amazing to finally get it out. So sorry for the long delay! I hope you all enjoy! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

“Damn it–!”

A sharp gasp of shock escapes you as your dominant hand betrays you, releasing the cup of tea seconds before it can reach your lips. The fragrant liquid, thankfully lukewarm, splashes on your lap and coat before thudding to the floor, thankfully undamaged.

Curling your hand into a fist, you draw it close to your chest, holding it with your other hand.

A sharp, burning sensation radiates through your fingers and palm, each pulse of agony sending jolts of discomfort through your arm. Inhaling sharply, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bear with the pain.

The pain was getting worse.

You were already well aware it was from the long hours you imposed on yourself as Fyodor’s translator. The lengthy days working away over these pages, treating each of his chapters with care to ensure each was translated perfectly from his native tongue into English, without his story being changed or translated incorrectly.

Well, at least hoped you were doing a good job of it.

You exhale sharply, releasing your pulsing hand from your gentle hold as you get up.

Bending down, your fingers curl around the gold handle of the cup, preparing to return it to its place on the small, new rolling table Dmitry had dropped off for Fyodor over the weekend. It's intended purpose was for a laptop but it made for a pretty good work space too.

Olga had bought it for him when she went into town, Fyodor had said. You smile. The last time you had tea with the couple had been pleasant…even if Dmitry had trouble speaking in English.

Your thoughts are disrupted as another jolt of pain shoots through your hand the moment you lift the teacup by its handle. Like a thousand little lightning bolts rippling through each digit down into your wrist.

Grimacing, you use your non-dominant hand to scoop the cup up, placing it down before you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up.

The bathroom in Fyodor's cottage was simple and practical, with only the essentials. Practical like him, you thought.

You couldn't help but admire the clawfoot bathtub, a novelty for you, and notice that there used to be a mirror above the sink, despite its absence now clearly marked by an outline on the wall.

You shrug off your burnt orange coat as you step into the cramped room, placing the wet fabric gingerly onto the sink, letting the dry portion hang off the side. With a determined effort, you grab the old sponge scourer nearby and begin scrubbing, trying to lift the sweet liquid from the fabric.

As you draw the sponge down the material, the pain flares up again. You wince, your hand trembling with each stroke, the sponge slipping through your fingers as searing pain ignites in your palm. You grip the sponge tightly, each squeeze sending waves of agony through your wrist.

‘Grit and bear it,’ you quietly whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath in to steady your nerves, ‘You can’t let something as silly as this stop you.’

You resume cleaning the coat, each movement accompanied by a few sharp huffs of pain.

Anger flares in your chest, mixing with the burning sensation in your wrist. You can't let something as trivial as a sore wrist stop you from salvaging your coat.

How pathetic would it be if a wrist injury kept you from cleaning your favourite coat? It would end up with a permanent stain, a constant reminder of your failure, and you'd have to abandon it—

Your anger falters, and your hand pauses mid-motion.

Abandoning your coat was unthinkable. It’s a prized possession, one you couldn’t bear to part with. But if something loses its usefulness, it’s cast aside for something better, something newer, something more valuable.

No…no, no, no. You can’t let that happen.

As pain grips your hand like a tightening vice, you stifle a whimper, continuing to scrub the wet patch with increasing aggression. The determination to remove the stain overrides the pain throbbing in your wrist and hand.

You can’t let it lose its usefulness. You can’t let it be replaced by something better. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t…

No...no, it's okay....the stain is coming out...it’s all okay now… it's not damaged....it's still okay...It’s still wearable. It’s going to be okay…it’s still useful. It hasn’t lost its usefulness…

Breathing shakily, you glance at your wrist, the bandage damp. It’s not broken. No bones are sticking out, your fingers are intact, and your palm is still in place.

It’s just a bit of pain, that’s all. Some ibuprofen and you’ll be fine. There’s no reason to delay work over something that can be managed with a few pills.

As you hang your coat up to dry, you nod to yourself before leaving the bathroom.

You’ll take some ibuprofen and get back to work. The pills will ease the pain, and if they don’t, it really isn’t that bad. You can endure it. You have chapters to finish translating and only five days until the convention.

You have to keep going.

You have to.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

A silvery light cascaded down upon her cheeks, casting an ethereal glow that seemed to transform her countenance into something otherworldly.

The teardrops that glistened upon her skin resembled stars, tracing a sorrowful path along the delicate contours of her face, only to fall, tumbling through the air like unheeded dreams.

It was in this moment that the true weight of my words struck me—a realization that pierced my very being. With my tongue wielded as a weapon, I had unwittingly thrust it into her heart, inflicting a wound far deeper than I had ever intended. How cruelly could one soul harm another in the throes of passion and despair?

My mind scarcely registered the sound of her chair scraping against the stone floor as she rose, her back turned to me, a sob escaping her lips that shook her entire form, quaking as violently as the bitter winds of winter might.

A constriction seized my throat, and my voice, once vibrant, was stifled in the depths of my anguish. In an instant, my body sprang forth, the chair clattering to the ground with a resounding thud. I could not permit her to leave. My heart, that treacherous organ, would not allow it; it throbbed with a fierce determination to bridge the chasm I had unwittingly created.

“No, wait, don’t go…!” I cried, leaping from my chair. I reached out to her, grabbing her wrist–

I tried to reach her—

Grabbing her hand in mine, I—

Fyodor’s pen clatters onto his desk as he rubs his face in frustration, letting out a soft groan.

No matter how hard he tries, the words refuse to flow from his pen as they once did. Gently, he pushes this page to join the other drafts for the latest chapter on the floor, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

Just days ago, his inspiration had been explosive. Like a match tossed into a canister of petrol, igniting his mind with a flurry of ideas so intense that he hadn’t slept, desperate to get every thought down.

Ideas had sprung to life like a box of fireworks.

Intense.

Bright.

Uncontainable.

Now, pens lay empty on his desk, dried of the ink they once held, mere shells of their former selves. He had gone through so many pens and sheets of paper, he'd already needed to call Vivian purchase a restock of supplies on his behalf.

But now, he can barely write a few paragraphs without tossing the draft aside.

He’s gone back, rereading every chapter from the beginning to the latest. He’s even reviewed your translations, hoping that the sentences you’d woven beautifully in English would reignite something, anything within him.

But it has only led to more crossed-out sentences, reworked paragraphs, and shredded pages.

At one point, he even considered rewriting an entire chapter. One of the first chapters. Inhaling deeply, he pushes away from the desk and stands, moving through his room, lit solely by candlelight.

His steps are soft, boots gently tapping against the floorboards. As he moves, Tolstoy rises from his spot under his chair and trots after him, mewling and weaving between his legs.

Fyodor huffs, watching as the old cat bumps his head against his leg, meowing several times. Tolstoy lifts his paws towards him, making a kneading motion in the air. A plea to be held or pat.

“I’m fine, Tolstoy,” Fyodor murmurs, pacing the small room, his footsteps echoing around him. His gaze drifts from the feline to the cluttered shelf of books on his desk. His eyes skim the spines, each one bearing the name of a close friend.

The spines are covered in a thick layer of dust so dense that Fyodor’s finger leaves a clean trail when he brushes over them.

When he withdraws his hand, his fingertip is entirely black. He rubs the dust between his finger and thumb, studying the imprint with a thoughtful expression.

He moves along, using his fingertip to uncover each title, freeing each from the clutches of the dust that clings to them.

Each name represents a fond memory. Each book a reminder of his past, of times part of his heart still ached for. All of these books were cherished, beloved by him.

He felt as though these books were more than just the stories written inside. That they held his past memories in them as well.

Memories of when he received these books and those who were gracious enough to give them to him. It was foolish to yearn for the past. He was foolish to yearn for it.

His slender fingers continue along their path until–

His gaze shifts to the last book on the shelf, one coated with a thicker layer of dust than the others. Thankfully the dust had only accumulated on the plastic covering the book had been delivered in.

The grey hardcover book was missing its name along the spine, a fault by the manufacturer when they had first been in production five years ago. Fyodor was given the first copy to keep while the rest of the errors were destroyed.

It was his first published work—anonymously, of course. Vivian had created his pseudonym, a gesture for which he remained grateful, despite the name alias now representing something more painful.

His fingertip hesitates over the dust-covered spine, pausing as if uncertain whether to disturb it. It lightly caresses the edge of the plastic covering the spine before withdrawing, as if he had touched something he wasn’t meant to.

Inhaling deeply, his right hand caresses the back of his left hand, gently running up to a little ways above his wrist before slowly caressing down as he exhales.

As he inhales deeply a second time, he focuses on the gentle caress of his right hand on the back of his left hand. With each breath, his hand traces a path up to just above his wrist before slowly descending again, as if following the ebb and flow of his breath.

The delicate movements were almost hypnotic. He exhales slowly, his body relaxing.

Why was he doing all of this?

His reason to write, to create and weave stories was no longer present. His writings, his novels….did any of it have a reason to exist when his own raison d'être was no longer–

He sharply exhales, glaring at the wall.

Suddenly, a loud mewl rouses his attention. He looks towards his desk as a furry paw plants itself on his arm. His dark eyes turn, gazing down at Tolstoy as he paws at his arm, mewling and chirping at him. He huffs, finally reaching down to scratch behind his ear.

“I said I’m fine,” he whispers, much more softly than before. His hand runs smoothly down Tolstoy’s neck, enjoying the softness of his plush fur. He follows the curve of his spine to the base of his tail before lifting his hand, returning to scratching behind his ear.

He turns his gaze towards the clock above his door. He hums softly in thought, finally pulling his hand away from Tolstoy’s soft fur. He gives a soft mewl, reaching out to keep patting at his arm.

However, Fyodor steps away, moving towards the door.

“It’s almost midday,” Fyodor murmurs to the feline, encouraging him to follow. His voice sounds breathless, even to his own ears as he runs a hand smoothly through his ruffled locks of hair, “I’m sure Огонёк has already gotten started on lunch.”

He pushes open the door, gratitude washing through him as he notices you kept the curtains closed and the candles lit just as he asked for hours prior.

He furrows his brow, puzzled by the unusual silence. Normally, you would already be bustling in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans as you prepared lunch.

You would look up and tease him, either about what took him so long to come help or ask if he was that worried about you burning the cottage down. A faint smile briefly flickers onto his face.

His leather boots echo against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the only other room you could be in.

Suddenly, a sound of discomfort reaches his ears, prompting him to quicken his pace towards the living area. He grabs onto the door frame for support as he calls out in concern, hoping for a response, “Огонёк? Are you–”

He pauses, his voice catching as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes scan your figure, starting at your bandaged hand that is clutched tightly to your chest. Your other hand grips it fiercely as if trying to suppress the pulsing, burning pain underneath.

Pages are strewn about on the rolling table and the carpet, creating white patches around you. Even your pen is lost in the mess. But what captures his attention the most is your expression.

Though your eyes widen in surprise at his abrupt arrival, your face is twisted in agony.

Your eyebrows are furrowed together, lips pulled back in a scowl, and your eyes are glossy. It's not difficult for Fyodor to piece together what happened.

You pushed yourself too hard.

Again. After he had told you not to. After you promised you wouldn't.

You should have listened. Why didn't you listen??

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, yet again.” His eyes are like cold steel, assessing every detail of your struggle, his eyes moving from your bandaged hand, to the twisted look of pain on your face.

How could you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you insist on suffering this way? Did you enjoy making yourself suffer, when he was right here to help?

Why didn't you ask for help?

He continues with a chilling calmness, each word enunciated with a surgical precision, “Your discomfort is palpable, and yet you persist as if it’s inconsequential.”

Were you doing this on purpose?

“Mr. Dostoyevsky–” You open your mouth, attempting to explain, but Fyodor’s narrowed eyes cut you off, silencing you with their intensity.

“It’s as if you’re deliberately ignoring the physical damage you’re inflicting on yourself,” he continues, his tone devoid of warmth. “Do you honestly believe that this relentless drive will yield any true satisfaction, or are you merely too obstinate to face the consequences?”

Why are you being so stubborn? Why can't you just listen to me?

You bristle at his words, your frustration bubbling to the surface. You move the rolling table to the side, “You don’t get to dictate what I can and can’t handle!” you snap, moving the rolling table aside with a forceful shove. Fyodor’s eyes widen slightly, his usual composure momentarily disrupted.

He hasn’t seen this side of you before now.

“I’m not going to stop just because you think I’m overdoing it!” Your voice rises, defiant and fiery as Fyodor goes ridged, his arms crossing over his chest, “I don’t need your approval or your pity!”

Fyodor doesn’t waver, his cold demeanor unmoved by your outburst, “It’s not about permission or pity,” he counters, his voice retaining its unsettling steadiness. “It’s about your responsibility to yourself before you jeopardize your future.”

Your anger intensifies, a wave of frustration surging through you. “I don’t need a lecture on responsibility,” you retort sharply. “I know my limits. I’m capable of pushing through–”

Fyodor steps closer, his presence imposing, his tone taking on a steely edge. “Do you truly grasp what could happen if you persist?” His gaze pierces through you, forcing you to step back, dwarfed by his intensity. “This isn’t mere discomfort or fleeting pain. You risk a permanent injury that could render your hand useless.”

His voice drops to a frigid whisper, “Envision living with that consequence, knowing it was avoidable. Picture squandering your entire future because of a few extra hours of work. That’s the reality you face if you don’t step back and take care of yourself.”

For a moment, he notices your brows knitting together, your lips twitching as if about to curve downwards, your eyes appearing slightly glassy. But then, the fire reignites in your gaze as you step back, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. “A few extra hours of work isn’t going to cripple me! You’re just being paranoid–!”

“Сверхуважаемая госпожа.”

Fyodor’s tone, colder than the snow that fell two days prior, makes you flinch, your eyes widening in shock. He remains unmoved, his gaze penetrating as if seeking to unravel the deepest recesses of your soul.

His jaw tightens as he delivers a single, icy command. “Остановись.”

Your hands clench into tight fists, your eyes narrowing with defiance. As your vision blurs and your chest tightens with the sting of anger and hurt, you glance back at the rolling table, where your work remains incomplete.

Inhaling sharply, you turn, grabbing your shoulder bag, which holds several more of Fyodor’s chapters. As you prepare to push past him, he calls out, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you snap, “Since you clearly don’t want me here.”

Fyodor’s frustration is palpable as he follows you towards the door. The flames of the candles lining the hallway flicker wildly, some nearly extinguishing from the draft of your angry departure. “You are behaving like a child–”

“Oh, so now you see me as a child?” You retort sharply, not even glancing back. A harsh, humourless laugh escapes you as you wrench open the door. A frigid gust of air rushes in, extinguishing the remaining candles and plunging the hallway into darkness.

As the biting cold brushes against his skin, Fyodor’s body tenses involuntarily. You don’t look back as you leave, slamming the door behind you with a force that echoes in the empty hallway.

Fyodor stands alone in the darkness, his hands trembling slightly.

The impulse to chase after you gnaws at him, but his feet feel as though they are rooted to the spot by an invisible force. He stares ahead into the darkened corridor, his ears filled with the faint, almost nervous sound of his own breathing.

Even as Tolstoy approaches him, mewling and weaving his furry body against his ankles, Fyodor stays completely still, only the sound of his ragged breaths filling the dark corridor.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

Brown, withered leaves, exposed once more due to the snow melting crunch under your boots as you storm away from Fyodor’s cottage, your shoulder bag swaying wildly.

Anger and adrenaline still flood your mind, your body feeling rigid and tense. Your bare arms are wrapped tight around your body in an attempt to protect your exposed skin from the cold elements.

Honestly, who does he think he was, telling me what I can and can’t handle? He doesn’t even know me. I could handle this and more. If I really wanted to, I could even cartwheel right now! Juggle a trio of bowling balls even!

Well...if you had the strength--

An angered huff escapes you as you slip under the floral archway, the aroma of flowers doing nothing to soothe your furious spirit as their petals seem to curl further away from you and inwards. As if they aren’t sure what to hide from; the growing coldness or your burning anger.

Your boots click against the damp, slick cobblestone path, your eyes catching glimpse of a ball of vibrant orange up ahead. You glance up noticing a familiar orange tabby cat doing circles around a cute, handcrafted bowl with cute, tiny blue paw prints painted along the trimming.

Olga kneels down as far as her old body will allow her as she scoops the intensely smelling wet food onto the bowl, murmuring something sweetly in Russian as the tabby begins devouring the served food as if it would be starving.

As the elderly grandmother stands up straight, she blinks a few times, her eyes falling on you before she gives an old, weary smile, “Oh dearie! Why hello! What are you doing out here?”

Stopping at the gate separating you both, you watch as Olga approaches you, her steps slower and more careful than before, “Did Fedyka send you on an errand?”

You hesitate for a moment, boot tapping against the cobblestone path. You could just say yes and continue on your way. Olga would be none the wiser. But as you stare down at her, fully taking in her kind, warm smile, you feel your resolve caving, despite the anger still clawing at your heart.

“Not…exactly,” you reply carefully, still unsure if you should tell the elderly lady the truth. You could just save all your ranting and venting for later when you could call Trixie. But the idea is dismissed the moment you see her face fall. She moves closer, unlatching the gate and opening it.

“Here dearie, come in,” Olga insists, the loud creak of the old gate startling both you and the tabby cat. Although the feline quickly goes back to eating like her life depends on it, “I’ll make you some tea and you can tell me all about it.”

You hesitate to enter the elderly couple’s garden, your eyes flickering from Olga’s plump form to the cobblestone pathway leading to the bus stop. You hum, looking back as the tabby cat mewls cheerily, following Olga back up the cobblestone steps.

She stops, looking back at you. Her ears twitch as she mewls, as if asking if you're going to join them.

“Mitya is out today selling some of our homemade jam, so we’ll have the place all to ourselves. We can have some girl’s time.” A hearty laugh escapes her as she opens the door leading into her cozy cottage, the mushroom-shaped bell on the door ringing merrily as she opens it.

“It's been years since I last shared tea with my girlfriend's. Come, come.”

With a sigh, your mind is made up. You head after Olga, up the stairs and into her and Dmitry’s marital home.

The moment you step over the threshold, warmth envelops you like a tight, welcoming embrace. A delectable aroma dances in the air, wrapping around you as if beckoning you deeper into the home with the promise of delicious, homemade food.

The fragrant scent of fresh herbs fills your senses, mingling with the enticing aroma of deliciously seasoned meat and the sweet-tart notes of pastries cooling on a rack.

As your eyes begin to take in the small, cozy cottage, you notice the floral patterns on the walls, complemented by a beautifully embroidered tablecloth draped over an old, sturdy oak table.

Above the warmth of the crackling fireplace, an Orthodox cross catches your eye, hanging between photo frames that crowd the mantel. The more you gaze around the living space, the more religious imagery you see scattered about, alongside photos of faces you’ll never personally get to meet.

Your gaze drifts to the mantel, where Olga and Dmitry's wedding photos catch your eye, and your heart swells at the sight of her in an elegant wedding dress. One photo captures them at a sun-drenched beach, sharing ice cream and laughter, their joy palpable.

Another image shows them with someone else—Olga, Dmitry, and a heavily pregnant young woman—smiling warmly as they enjoy tea together at the same dining room table, a snapshot of blissful camaraderie.

The warmth radiating from these photos mirrors the inviting glow of the hearth.

An old rocking chair sits nearby, adorned with a warm knitted blanket made from light colored yarn. It seems the tabby cat has claimed this spot as her resting place for the time being. She yawns, stretching her soft body out before curling into a tight ball of fluff.

Across from the rocking chair, a comfortable-looking recliner holds another similar knitted blanket, bunched on the seat as if someone shrugged it off before leaving. There’s a pair of reading glasses and an old, worn grey hardcover novel left behind as well, an old, fraying bookmark peeking between the pages.

To the right, the warm, welcoming kitchen beckons.

The cupboards are a pleasant, natural dark oak, accented with delicate floral designs in white and light mocha shades. One cupboard door features a painted bouquet of flowers that looks fairly new, judging from the light pinks and yellows used for the petals of the flowers.

One of the two stovetops burns intensely as a large pot of stew boils and bubbles away, the smell almost making your stomach growl.

On the windowsill, several small plants catch your eye—herbs, you realize, their names written in Russian on their pots. Beneath the sill, sweet-smelling pastries cool, their deep purple blackberry filling peeking out from beneath the small pastry stars on top.

And there’s Olga, murmuring to herself in Russian as she prepares the teapot. You hang back, quietly watching as she fills the delicate gold and blue metal teapot with water, the malty aroma of the black tea leaves wafting through the air.

Black tea...Fyodor had a habit of choosing those tea leaves too.

Once the pot is on the stovetop, she looks back at you, mirth in her eyes, “Come, come dearie. Make yourself comfortable. The tea won’t be long.”

Murmuring your thanks, you sit somewhat awkwardly at the sturdy dining table. The timber groans beneath you, as if annoyed to be roused from its peaceful slumber. You grip your black skirt nervously, picking at your tights while keeping your head down.

What should you say to Olga about what happened?

Olga and her husband seemed to know Fyodor very well—so well, in fact, that you briefly wondered if they were related. Their bond was strong.

If you dared to say anything against him, would she defend him? Would she be angry with you for storming out, for yelling at the man she spoke of with such fondness and care?

Maybe she would even be heartbroken that you, the one supposedly doing so much good for Fyodor, would turn around and lash out at him.

You grip your skirt tighter, your knuckles turning white as a flurry of thoughts and consequences clutter your mind.

Suddenly, the loud whistle of the teapot jostles you from your internal struggle. You look up to see Olga humming peacefully to herself, organizing a wooden tray with the teapot, delicate teacups, and a few of those delicious-smelling pastries.

She carefully approaches the table, placing the tray in the center before she sits down.

As she begins pouring tea into the cups, she looks at you gently and asks, “Now, tell me, dearie. What happened?”

She gently glides the teacup and saucer towards you, the spoon left inside the cup. You gaze into the warm liquid, getting a small glimpse at your reflection.

The weight of your argument with Fyodor still weighs heavy on your mind as you let out a deep sigh. Picking up the spoon, you begin stirring the liquid as you finally speak up.

Whatever would happen after you explained yourself, good or bad…you would just have to accept it.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

Honestly, who does she think she is?

Does she foolishly believe her own stubbornness will somehow be enough to stop the damage she is causing to herself? Perhaps I really should have a word to Vivian about her…unruly conduct…

Thoughts swirl like a snowstorm in Fyodor’s mind, his dark eyes scanning your translations but not fully taking them in. He huffs, flipping back to the first page before admitting defeat.

He tosses the pages back onto the rolling table, dropping his weary body onto the window seat in the living space, his hands raising to rub his face.

A mewl comes from his side as Tolstoy joins him, bumping his head against his ankle. He slumps onto his side, his paws gently batting at his shoe.

Fyodor gives an irritated huff, his eyes darkening as he looks down at the feline, “You’ve been pestering me all day.” He grumbles, standing and moving past the clingy feline.

He makes a beeline for the kitchen, the dark tabby on his heels, mewling and chirping almost urgently. He huffs, stopping at the table, “You have never been the clingy type, Tolstoy. I hope you do not intend to make this a permanent habit.”

The feline leaps up onto the dining table, mewling and nudging his broad head against Fyodor’s palm.

Tolstoy didn’t care about the complexities of human emotions and relationships. He was just a house cat, desiring nothing more than scratches and food. Fyodor couldn’t help but envy his simplicity right now.

With a sigh, he absentmindedly scratched behind Tolstoy’s ear, the cat purring contentedly as he settled against the table. Yet, his mind was far from the soothing rhythm of the moment; it wandered restlessly back to you.

What is it about the young that they believe themselves to be impervious? Where do they get this delusion that nothing awful will ever befall them, until they stumble headfirst into danger, as if the world were a playground rather than a battleground?

Fyodor knew this truth all too well; he, too, had once been young and naive, with dreams soaring above the mundane realities of life. A life free from troubles and strife. A true paradise.

But you… with God as his witness, you seemed determined to earn the title of the most bullheaded human. Your fierce dedication was admirable, yet it danced dangerously close to folly. Did you not see the precarious edge upon which you teetered?

He recalled the way your eyes lit up when discussing your work, a flame that both intrigued and unnerved him. It was as if you were blind to the shadows lurking just beyond your fervor. How could he make you understand the balance between passion and prudence?

He huffs, a small smile playing on his lips. He wondered briefly if he had more grey hairs because of your impulsive, stubborn actions.

How many times had he found his mind wandering to you after you left for the evening, stressing and fretting like a mother hen?

Did she make it home alright? Did she eat? Is she taking the time to rest? How is her sleep schedule? She isn't staying up too late at night to work, is she?

His mind kept him awake a good extra hour each night as he stressed and worried about you.

It felt as if you were a tempest, sweeping through his carefully ordered life and leaving a trail of chaos in your wake.

Yet, there was something within that chaos. A certain warmth—a flicker of life that stirred something long dormant within him. He could almost picture you, fervently writing away at your translations, lost in the world of words, oblivious to the risks that accompanied such fervour with your condition.

It was infuriating, yes, but also undeniably captivating.

With a shake of his head, he forced himself to focus on Tolstoy’s rumbling, soft body, using the cat as a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts.

Perhaps he should apologise for being so hard on you. Sit down with a warm meal and discuss things properly. Maybe he could even help you write the translations.

He just didn’t want to douse the flame of your passion.

After all, wasn’t it this very fire that made you who you were? Still, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. The world was far less forgiving than the safe cocoon you seemed to inhabit.

As he steps away from the dining table to brew a fresh pot of tea, he begins wondering if it was possible to find a proper way to guide you, without extinguishing that precious flame in your heart.

Above all, he wished to ensure you were ready for the challenging journey that awaited you.

The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, and he feared it would be less about sunshine and rainbows and more about thorns and obstacles. His greatest hope was to prepare you for the trials that lay in your future.

He places the teapot onto the stovetop, reaching up into one of the cupboards. He retrieves the matching teacups, stepping towards the table to prepare everything for your return.

He huffs as he notices the once clingy, needy feline is now curled up, snoozing quietly at the end of the table.

“I suppose you exhausted yourself chasing me around all day, hm?” He muses, resisting the urge to stroke Tolstoy’s soft fur, not wanting to risk the feline chasing him around for pats again.

As Fyodor leaves Tolstoy in peace, he hums softly and makes his way to the fridge, quietly sliding the door open.

His thoughts drift to what you might prefer for dinner upon your return. You had experimented with five different dishes this week, but most had earned only your disapproval so far. He surveys the remaining containers, a frown settling on his face. Given your past reactions, he doubted any of these meals would satisfy you.

He pauses, gripping the side of the fridge more tightly; whenever he was disinclined toward something heavy for dinner—or too preoccupied to prepare a proper meal—his mother would always offer him a warm bowl of манная каша.

A bittersweet smile tugs at his lips as he recalls how she would fill the bowl with nuts, fruits, and a drizzle of honey. Back then, he insisted that he didn’t need all the embellishments; plain porridge was sufficient. Yet, as he reflects now, he understands her desire to make it special and full of nutrients.

He reaches into the fruit box, only to find that with the season shifting toward Winter, the selection is limited to cranberries, apples, and pears. Disappointed, he crouches down and opens the freezer. There, next to the ice cube tray, sits a bag of frozen berries.

Perfect.

The sharp whistle of the teapot pulls him from his thoughts as he stands, the bag of frozen berries still in hand.

He places the berries on the countertop, removing the teapot from the stove, turning the hot plate off for the moment. Setting the steaming teapot at the center of the table, side by side with the teacups, he tries to recall where he last saw the bag of semolina when a sudden flurry of knocks at the door jolts him from his reverie.

You’re back already? But he hasn’t even had time to prepare the porridge. He calls out, his voice steady. “Come in, Огонёк.” After that, he heads toward the pantry, opening the doors to continue his search when another set of knocks echoes.

His lips press together in confusion as he closes the pantry. He was certain he hadn’t locked the door after you stormed out. Perhaps he had been too lost in thought to notice. But as he approaches the door, his frown deepens; it is indeed unlocked. He reaches for the handle, calling out, “Огонёк, the door is unlocked. Why are you—”

The door creaks open, a cold breeze sweeping in and playfully tousling Fyodor’s hair and coat. His eyes widen for a moment before returning to their usual calm.

Yes...that would explain why you weren’t opening the door.

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

“--And so, that’s...what happened.”

Your retelling of events comes to a close, your fingers drumming against the table in a rhythmic motion. Your bandaged wrist rests tenderly on your thigh as you quickly add, “I know Mr. Dostoyevsky is only looking out for me. I know he doesn’t want me to end up in hospital or to lose the function in my hand…”

You pause.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the orange tabby trotting towards Olga, tail held high. She leaps up onto the grandmother’s inviting lap as you continue, “But this job, my work…it’s so important to me. I…” Your gaze drifts towards your bandaged wrist. You flex your fingers open slowly, “I want to be useful to Mr. Dostoyevsky. I have to be useful to him.”

Your fingers curl up tightly, causing another thunderous wave of pain to rush through your hand, into your wrist. You bite your bottom lip, suppressing those sounds of pain that threaten to leave you. Straining your voice, you continue, “His success as an author in the international world rests on my shoulders. If he fails, it’ll be entirely because of me…”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat, a shaky exhale escaping you as you stare at your hand—your stupid, wounded hand. Each pulse of pain feels like a reminder of what you suffered when you were small and vulnerable.

It's a burden you never asked for, a memory of your tainted youth...it looms over you like a storm cloud, threatening to unleash its fury.

Right now, that burden could cost you your job. Or worse; it could destroy Fyodor’s career as an author…and your own dream of becoming one. The weight of it all crushes your chest, tightening like a vice.

No…no, no…anything but that. Ruining your own dream was one thing, but dragging Fyodor down with you was unthinkable. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t—

The sudden clink of Olga's teacup settling back onto its saucer jolts you from the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind, snapping you back to the present. Yet, the anxiety clings to you, heavy and suffocating. You swallow sharply, your breathing unsteady as you meet her gaze.

You had braced yourself for a scolding for daring to raise your voice at someone so important to her. Instead, you find warmth in her eyes—a glimmer of compassion that eases the weight on your chest.

A small, weary chuckle escapes her lips as she strokes the back of the tabby purring contentedly in her lap. “Oh, that sounds like our little Fedyka. I remember him scolding that rambunctious friend of his just like that so many times when they were young.”

Another chuckle follows, accompanied by a calm sigh. Her lips curve into a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with a wisdom you can only dream of possessing. A flicker of hope ignites amid your anxiety, her presence wrapping around you like a comforting hug.

Olga leans forward, her gaze steady and reassuring. “My dear, I understand your need to push yourself. It sounds like you’re under immense pressure, feeling as if one misstep could make everything come crashing down.”

“But you must know his scolding came from a good place.” She leans back, her hand scratching the tabby behind the ears as she smiles warmly at you. “I know he worries for you, just as any good friend would.”

She pauses, allowing her words to settle before continuing. “I’ve watched over Fedyka since he was small. He has always been intent on ensuring the safety and well-being of those he cares for.”

Her gaze drifts to your bandaged wrist resting beneath the table. “I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but that fire in you—that passion and stubbornness—it’s a double-edged sword. While it drives you in your work, it’s also wounding you…causing you pain, isn’t it, dear?”

Her eyes return to yours, revealing a faint glimmer of nostalgia, of heartbreak beneath her warmth. “You are a determined young lady. But there’s a difference between determination and recklessness."

She reaches for the teapot, gently lifting it. “You should listen to him. I know you feel that everything rests on your shoulders, but it’s okay to take a step back. In fact, you should.”

As she refills her cup, her brows raise, and you feel the weight of her silent, parental scolding. “You were struggling to stir your tea just moments ago with that hand. I may understand your emotions and drive dearie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with Fedyka.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you cough awkwardly, looking away. A fond chuckle escapes Olga as her tone softens further as she places the teapot back down. “I know that boy. Trust me when I say you can lean on him. In fact, I’d wager he’d prefer you rely on him than continue bearing this burden alone.”

You pause, the weight in your chest still heavy, a storm of thoughts brewing in your mind, looming and ready to engulf you. You glance up at Olga as she delicately sips her tea and blurt out, “But what if I’m the reason he—”

“Ah-ah,” Olga interjects gently, lowering her cup just enough to speak. “None of that, dearie.” She sets her cup down with care. “Your primary concern should be taking care of that wrist of yours.” Her gaze softens, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “Mitya and I want to see you succeed just as much as we want Fedyka to. So please…take his advice."

Your gaze turns downwards, gazing into the cold cup of tea before you. You stare hard at your own reflection, taking the time to really absorb Olga’s words.

Deep down, beneath your drive for success and your fear of failure, you knew she was right. If you didn’t stop and rest like Fyodor had told you to, you would ultimately be the reason for your own failure.

Your gaze drops to the cold cup of tea in front of you, studying your reflection as you absorb Olga’s words. Deep down, beneath your ambition and fear of failure, you know she’s right. If you don’t heed Fyodor’s advice to rest, you risk being the architect of your own downfall.

Fyodor could find another translator if needed, but if you continued to push yourself, you might lose the use of your hand entirely. You have to stop, even if that thought fills you with reluctance.

Yet perhaps there’s a compromise to be made. If only you could talk to Fyodor—

“Thank you, Olga,” you murmur, your mind racing with thoughts of how to make this work without needing to stop completely. You lift your teacup and down the cold, sweet liquid in one swift gulp before adding, “I need to go.”

With a warm, almost motherly smile, Olga watches you rise from your chair, her trembling hand still stroking the orange tabby’s fur. “Go on, dearie. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” As you move quickly toward the door, she calls out, “I’ll send Mitya around in the morning with some more tarts for you and Fedyka!”

With that, you step out of the cozy cottage, taking the cobblestone steps two at a time as you make your way back to Fyodor’s place. Your boots greet the cobblestone path as you hurry on, the gate groaning low as you shut it behind you.

Technically, you owe him an apology, don’t you? This isn’t the first time he’s scolded you for pushing yourself. Ultimately, Fyodor is just looking out for you, as any good boss and friend should.

A friend…

Warmth flutters in your chest as you step under the archway of flowers once more. The golden orb in the sky slips shyly over the treeline, casting elongated shadows that dance across the forest floor. Its rays shimmer and create a mosaic of bright highlights that ripple with the gentle movement of the water.

The sky is a canvas of pale blue, tinged with hints of orange and pink, hinting at the day’s slow descent while still holding on to the lingering warmth of afternoon.

The lake’s surface ripples faintly as if greeting you, even if you know otherwise.

A friend to Fyodor…those few little words had you smiling a goofy grin from ear to ear. You’d only been working for him for a few weeks, but you had grown more comfortable with him. Learnt more about him.

You’d learned his preferred tea leaves, his favorite meals, and his love for the cello and classical music.

You knew how he would endlessly gaze across the lake whenever you both sat outside. You even knew why he pursued this career path. You both cooked and ate together for every meal, chatting and joking with each other.

You spent five days a week, ten hours or more each day with him. Sure, those were your regular working hours, and it was part of your role to be there, but that had to count for something!

…Right?

You reach the cottage door just as your thoughts threaten to spiral into another overwhelming storm. Curling your non-dominant hand around the door handle, you twist it and push the door open, calling out, “Mr. Dostoyevsky! I’m–!”

Your voice catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you. Standing in the candlelit entryway of Fyodor’s cottage is someone else—someone you could swear you’ve seen before. His captivating eyes turn towards you.

You swallow your words, taking in his features: a strong jawline and an old scar that runs from the top of his left eyebrow, down across his left eye and halfway down his cheek. Yet, despite the prominent scar, his complexion remains fair.

"Handsome" is the first word that comes to mind.

One vibrant blue and one calm green eye scan you from head to toe, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he leans against the doorway leading into the living area.

Most of his hair, white and soft looking, like fallen dove feathers, is tied back into a thick braid cascading down his back, while the rest of his fluffy hair delicately frames his face.

He stands with his hands in the pockets of his grey woolen trench coat that covers his darker grey sweater and white scarf. He straightens up, tilting his head as he continues to appraise you.

Like Fyodor, this man speaks with a deep, gravelly voice, laced with a thick accent that’s subtly different from Fyodor’s. Ukrainian, perhaps? “Why hello there. You must be the brilliant assistant I’ve heard so much about.”

His heavy black boots click against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer, and you find yourself rooted in place, gripping the door handle slightly. He stops just a few steps away, towering over you— he's taller than Fyodor.

“I… I wouldn’t say brilliant—” you manage to reply, earning a deep chuckle from him.

“It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name. And what a pretty face it is.” He reaches out, capturing your non-dominant hand and lifting it to kiss the back of your fingers softly.

Your heart skips a beat, any word you mumble coming out as a stutter. You cough, trying to find a response as his unique eyes lock onto yours.

Then realization hits you like a ton of bricks. He’s one of the men from the photo in Fyodor’s room. Keeping your voice steady, you gently pull your hand back. “You… you’re a friend of Mr. Dostoyevsky’s. I saw you in that photo he has in his room.”

His eyes flicker with recognition, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black trousers. He tilts his head slightly, the mischievous smirk never leaving his face. “Ah, that old thing? I’m surprised Fedya still has it.” He takes a step back. “But you are correct, Огонёк~ I am a very close friend of his.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his teasing tone.

“My name,” he says, his voice a charming timbre, “is Nikolai Gogol. But please, I insist. Call me Kolya, darling~”

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡ © 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ (SorryifImissedanyone !)

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @cherridove @slowlyfoulenthusiast

Candles divider- @/firefly-graphics

Orange heart divider- @/adornedwithlight

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #flurry-of-writing

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overtrred28 · 7 months ago

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So high school | Jessie Fleming x reader

Summary; The story of how you and Jessie were brought together one fateful night in college and didn't leave each others side ever again.

Words; 2050

Pairing; Jessie Fleming x UCLA reader

A/N; Mother Taylor has inspired me and a tiktok that paired a footballer with an academic girl and I had thoughts. Then I was wondering who to do it with and THEN… UCLA J FLEM. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do because I’m in a Jessie mood rn. Btw this has been sitting in my drafts for literally like 2 months and I haven't had the inspiration to finish it until today. Enjoy loves xx

Jessie was more than kind of uncomfortable right now. She was tired after a full day of classes and an early morning training session, wanting to flop into bed after her long day and sleep away most of the weekend. But here she was, nursing a cup of coke in the corner of a frat house and wishing she had declined the invitation to come out with half of the soccer team.

“You good?” Teagan had made her way over, leaning against the wall and looking down at the midfielder who was seemingly lost in thought.

“Yeah, fine.” Jessie nodded her head, hiding the fact she desperately didn’t wanna be here anymore.

“Why don’t you try and go talk to someone? I’m sure there are plenty of pretty girls catching your eye right now.” Teagan nudged her shoulder with a smirk, downing her drink before walking away again. Jessie sighed before taking another sip of her coke and walking to another section of the house where more people congregated.

Her eyes filtered through the room, trying to take the goalkeeper's advice but giving up after noticing every pretty girl making their way over to someone else. Eventually her feet mindlessly walked her over to the back door, the glow of the pool under the moonlight catching her eye first before she spotted you.

Your friends had practically dragged you from your dorm, insisting you had to come and party with them, but where were they? Probably inside making out with frat guys and forgetting you actually came with them. That’s how you had found yourself sitting on a deck chair outside, avoiding the loud music and heavily intoxicated 20 year olds celebrating the start of their senior year, after your friends ditched you early on.

It didn’t bother you, them leaving you alone that is. And you could have gone home but you wanted to stay and make sure your friends made it home safely.

Jessie only saw the side of your face from how you were positioned on the chair but immediately found herself drawn to you. People may have called her crazy for falling with just one look, but when you know, you know.

You didn’t hear the sliding door open, too busy looking up at the moon and wondering what else you could be doing right now if you stayed in bed. It wasn’t until you heard the chair beside you creek that you finally noticed her, snapping your head at the noise and becoming encapsulated by her big brown eyes and freckles immediately.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” She apologised, her eyes somehow getting bigger and more beautiful.

“I-it’s okay.” You let out a breath. “Just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.” You shared a soft giggle and she finally smiled.

“Yeah, not really my scene.” Jessie shrugged and began sitting back in the chair, copying her movements and turning your head to face her.

“Me either.” You smiled before reaching out a hand to her. “Y/N.”

“Jessie.” She connected your hands, ignoring the tingling she felt in her fingers while you pushed down the butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

You two spent the rest of the night talking before she offered to walk you back to your dorm, after finding out your friends had already left with guys and you were left alone. Well, not so alone now.

The next few weeks would find you and Jessie with each other as much as possible, save for your individual classes, and you were happier than ever. You weren’t dating, no but it began to feel like it, especially when you ran down the bleachers after she won her next match, Jessie catching you as you jumped into her arms with pride.

After almost two months since meeting you finally had your first kiss. It wasn’t super romantic but exactly how you would have wanted it to go. You and Jessie were hanging out in her dorm, you studying for an upcoming exam and her pretending to catch up on classwork but really spent the whole time staring at you.

“Jessie.” You were focused on the millions of highlighted poems and texts that sounded you on the floor but could feel her eyes burning in the back of your head. “I can feel you staring.”

“What?” Jessie acted dumb, biting her lip to hold back a smile as she watched you turn your head, raising an eyebrow.

“You know that if you don’t get this work done you’re not playing this weekend. And I already cleared my schedule to watch you soooo.” You sat up fully, leaning back on your arms to look up at her on her bed.

“Can we not just take a small break? We’ve been at this for hours!” She whined, tilting her head at you, a fake pout accompanied by some puppy dogs eyes.

“It’s literally been 45 minutes.” You deadpanned as you got up and jumped up to sit next to her.

“45 minutes too long.” She huffed and you stifled a laugh as you looked at her.

“What would you rather us do then?” You asked while shaking your head at her, letting out that laugh but stopping when her silence was noted. You looked up to find her staring, no, gazing into your eyes, a look on her face she had many times but this was the first time you noted it. She looked lovestruck.

Your mouth opened to speak again but you were cut off when she was suddenly moving forward, one hand reaching up to hold your cheek and the other moving down to hold your waist. Before you could process anything, her lips were on yours and it was as if you had been transported into another world.

After that kiss your relationship didn’t seem to change that much, still spending almost all of your time together, though this time spending it a little closer and with a lot more kissing. Something about your relationship felt so young and naive, like you were back in high school making out at parties and never spending more than a couple hours apart from one another.

You now went to all her training sessions, sitting in the bleachers finishing homework while she prepared for their next match. Jessie loved you just being there but was getting a little annoyed that you weren’t fully paying attention as she ran rings around her teammates in an effort to impress you. She knew the perfect way to get your nose out of your books.

“HEY BABE!” Jessie shouted up to you across the pitch. The sheer volume and urgency of her voice caught your attention instantly, looking up to find her waving her arm comically in your direction.

“What?” You laughed alongside her teammates who were standing on the pitch waiting for something to happen.

“WATCH THIS!” She yelled again before running back to her starting position, eyeing up the cones and dummies she meticulously laid out and the ball that laid in wait for her. You bit back a smile at her excited nature, waiting for her to begin whatever trick she was about to show off.

She began dribbling the ball skillfully through the first few cones that were placed closely together. Yourself and her remaining teammates watched her feet intensely, quite impressed with how precisely she was keeping the ball in and under her feet. She made it through her round of cones and looked up towards you in the stands, making sure you were in fact watching her and whether or not you were impressed. But what she failed to notice was how close she had positioned the steel dummies that were part of her second skill test.

Everyone saw it happen before she did, running straight into the dummy, too distracted by you to realise she was running into it. You heard the ding from halfway up the bleachers and within seconds you were racing down to her on the pitch, trying to keep your laughter at bay so you could seriously check on her.

“Jessie, are you okay?” You knelt down to where Jessie was now sitting up, legs splayed across the grass and a hand to her temple, soothing where she hit her head.

“Don’t laugh. I was just trying to impress you.” Jessie finally spoke, avoiding your eyes and producing a pout, meanwhile her freckled cheeks were getting redder than they already were.

“Oh baby I know. It was very impressive till… you know.” You directed her eyes back to you with a soft smile, biting your lip again to hold back your laugh.

That night Jessie continued to pout, even when you were giving her all your attention, laying between your legs as you held an ice pack to her temple and babying her all night long even though you didn’t put the dummy there, she did.

After graduation you moved with Jessie to England for her contract with Chelsea, you managed to land a position at the University of London, teaching in the English department, a great start to your life together in a new country.

Jessie proposed to you in January of 2022 after three and a half years of dating, keeping it private and personal by dropping down on one knee as you were getting into bed one cold night.

Clad in flannelette pyjamas and fluffy socks, just having got out of the shower, you walked back into the bedroom expecting Jessie to be curled up in bed and waiting for you. But as you turned the corner she was bent down on one knee and holding a ring in her shaking hands. Jessie had prepared a whole speech about how much she loves you and wants to spend the rest of her life with you but in true Jessie fashion she got nervous and the only words that came out were. “Marry me? Please?”

You both took the next year to plan the wedding for Spring 2023 before the world cup, wanting to make sure you knew what you wanted and to enjoy being engaged before being married.

The big day finally arrived and you hadn’t seen Jessie in more than 24 hours, both of your bridesmaid groups separating you from one another for practically the first time in almost 5 years.

It was a beautiful ceremony filled with all for your close family and friends to celebrate your love and unite your families. You cried, Jessie cried, everyone cried. The reception though was one massive party. Everyone danced, everyone drank and most of all you got to have fun with your wife like you did back in college.

At the end of the night, after the party ended and everyone went home, you and Jessie were sipping champagne on your hotel room floor, giggling with one another in the silent room while wearing matching pyjamas.

“I love you.” Jessie said as she stared, no gazed, in your direction. “You’re so pretty, will you marry me?” Her words were slightly slurred as her tipsy frame swayed back and forth every so slightly.

“Too late, already did.” You laughed as you brought your left hand up to her face, showing off both of your shining rings. “Look.” You brought her hand up too, showing her own ring clad fingers to her, shock adorning her freckled face.

“We’re married already?!” Jessie shrieked and you knew it was time for bed.

“Yes, now come on. Time for bed my love.” You placed a kiss on her lips before putting your flutes down and pulling Jessie up with you from the floor. You dragged her over to the large bed, crawling alongside each other to then assume your regular positioning. Jessie waited for you to get comfortable against the pillows before laying herself across your chest, her pillow.

“Baby?” Jessie spoke after a few minutes, tilting her head to look up at you.

“Hmmm?” You respond as you begin to stroke her hair gently.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me.” Jessie asked before setting back down against your chest. You let out a small breath, a smile donning your face as she asked you.

“Well, I was sitting at a party next to the pool…”

THE END

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso x reader #ucla #chelsea #portland thorns #j flem #jessie

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writingonleaves · 1 year ago

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

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

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

title: "the blue" by gracie abrams

word count: 19.7k (whoops!)

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

*****

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

Lukey Hughes

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

Quinny Hughes

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

Jacky Hughes

CLEMENTINE

you’re coming to new york????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Not happy to see us?” Quinn teases.

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

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

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

“You’re only 26?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Clem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She blinks. “What’s later?”

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

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

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

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

She lights up. “Her pumpkin pie?”

“Yup.”

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

“Mmhmm. We’ll drive there together.”

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

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

Left some pasta for you in the fridge. xoxo Quinn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I call dibs after!” Quinn calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, she needs to get out more.

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Luke?”

“Taking his sweet ass time.”

She instinctively shoves him. “Be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were out west before?”

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

“But back east now?”

“Back east now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re seeing things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With who?” Luke shoots back.

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

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

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

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

…..

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

She musters a smile. “Hey there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico hums. “It looks nice. More…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it at your place?” Clementine asks.

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico just nods.)

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

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

During her lunch break, she calls Jack.

“Hello?”

“Jacky?”

“Clee? Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s yours now too.”

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

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

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

“Hey,” she greets Jack and Nico.

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

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

“Hey Clementine.”

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

“Long day?” Jack asks.

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

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

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

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

“You close with them?

“Extremely.”

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

He hesitates. “Usually, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Jack protests.

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

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

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

“Sometime in December, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…thoughts?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My bracelets?”

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

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

“You love them a lot,” Nico observes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Owen claps his hands. “C-cuh-”

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

“Unca Jack!”

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

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

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

Reanne grins, “Is that true?”

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

Caroline offers her arm. “You coming?”

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

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

“I bet,” she says softly.

“Are you a Devils fan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m annoying?” Nico jokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What did you think?”

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Center.”

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

“Do you just want me to say you?”

“Not if it’s not true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be right back,” Clementine promises.

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

…..

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

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

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

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

“You like him, don’t you?”

“As a person, absolutely. He’s very-”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I be scared?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s super warm,” Luke says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. I love them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

“Morning boys.”

“Morning Clemmy.”

“Happy new year!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“From Quinn. He specifically requested sunflowers.”

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

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

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

in loving memory of

Miguel Alejandro Sandoval

April 3, 1968 - January 1, 2015

beloved son, uncle, friend, husband and father

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

Nico furrows his eyebrows. “From who?”

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

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

Captain,

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

With love,

Clementine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just beams. Nico wants to bottle it up.

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

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

Luke Hughes

Ask her out already

I’m getting impatient

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re happy with that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime. You looked great out there earlier.”

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

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

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

“Not by choice,” she grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He told you that?”

“More or less. He’s not subtle.”

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, not until after lunch.”

“Perfect. Are you hungry?”

“A bit actually, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You come around here often?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

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

“Of course I would.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack and Luke know how to make pancakes?”

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

“What does she do?”

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

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

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

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

“That makes sense.”

“Do you speak any other languages?”

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

“Is all your family in the states?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

“You’re deflecting,” Jack sings.

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

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

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

She collapses on her bed and screams into her pillow)

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses her.

Oh.

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

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

“You have impeccably shit timing, Cap.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

part two here!

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