#please make the playoffs next season

[akuasucc]

im so tired of that sport i dont know if i can do it naymore

[tylerpitlicktruther]

i just hope we have a good run in 2024-2025 at this point man 😔💙

[babydollmarauders]

TWIN HUGHES — LUKE HUGHES

part of the luke’s gf au !

dolly.notparton

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 56,827 others

dolly.notparton life the past 9 months…. thank you for sharing your birthday @/jackhughes 🤍 pretty sweet of you

Comments on this post are limited

jackhughes not like i had a choice, the twins were coming out whether i wanted to share a birthday or not

dolly.notparton i spent the last 9 months of my life making your presents, you could at least act thankful!

jackhughes do they come with a receipt?

dolly.notparton THATS YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE!

jackhughes wtf is a swine?

dolly.notparton god you should’ve gone to college

dylanduke25 TWIN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!

dolly.notparton oh my god, they can say that and MEAN IT! DYLAN YOURE A GENIUS!

edwards.73 i don’t think anyone has ever said that about duker and meant it

dolly.notparton @/edwards.73 be nice to my dyl pickle

edwards.73 i’d be a lot nicer if you didn’t give me ammo by calling him things like “dyl pickle”

lhughes_06 so grateful for this little family we’ve created ❤️

dolly.notparton i l*ve you <3

lhughes_06 did you just censor the word “love”?

dolly.notparton maybe you would get the uncensored version if you hadn’t left your extremely pregnant girlfriend for hockey? idk, just a thought

jackhughes get him dolly!

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes stay out of this

_quinnhughes dolly and her dolls 🩷💙 i’m so happy for you guys. i know you’ll make amazing parents

dolly.notparton quinny, i love you tremendously. hurry up and finish in the playoffs so you can meet your niece and nephew 🤍

_quinnhughes i love you too but i’m not “hurrying” anything, i’ve got the cup in mind

dolly.notparton so you hate me and my children

_quinnhughes that’s not at all what i just said

dolly.notparton i can guarantee that’s exactly what you just said

lhughes_06 please don’t fight her on this, she’s tired and just pushed out two babies and i know she’ll find a way to be angry at me about this too

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 so i should fight her on this? heard. @/dolly.notparton check your texts

elblue6 my babies and my grandbabies 💗

dolly.notparton love you mama el!! can’t wait for you to come see the twins!

curtislazar95 god help us, they’re multiplying

dolly.notparton maybe i’ll make a whole hockey team of them

curtislazar95 20 sarcastic poodle haired bambi skaters with insatiable appetites

john.marino97 congratulations, guys! i’m happy to hear it was a happy and healthy birth story

dolly.notparton they’ll love their uncle johnny because he’s a twin just like them 🤍

john.marino97 i can teach them all about being a twin

lhughes_06

liked by njdevils, nhl, and 64,291 others

lhughes_06 Milo Oliver Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:16pm

Luella Grace Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:20pm

tagged dolly.notparton

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dolly.notparton we made those

lhughes_06 fuck yeah we did! we did fantastic!

dolly.notparton and jack tries to say i can’t cook!

jackhughes because you can’t. you burned water. HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes do you see what i cooked up inside of me?! you cried when you saw them!

jackhughes that was between us!

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes and now it’s between us and luke’s 185k followers and probably all of twitter! 🫶

user72 ARE YOU TELLING ME SHE’S BEEN PREGNANT FOR NINE MONTHS AND NONE OF US NOTICED?!

user93 OH MY GOD! LUKE’S A DILF

liked by dolly.notparton

markestapa SHOW ME THE BABIES!

lhughes_06 if you’d check the groupchat for once, you’d see the babies

markestapa oh

markestapa OH THEY’RE SO CUTE! YOU GUYS DID GOOD

lhughes_06 thanks stop sign! 🛑

edwards.73 congrats guys 🤝

lhughes_06 thanks eds 🤝

dolly.notparton this is a birth announcement not a damn frat party photo dump, you guys could add some hearts or at least a damn smiley face!

edwards.73 @/dolly.notparton no 🤝

dawson1417 congratulations! can’t wait to meet them next season!

njdevils gift basket coming your way! 👀congratulations!

user20 TWINS 🥹🫶

rutgermcgroarty swimmers be swimming

lhughes_06 🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️

dolly.notparton do guys think or do they just do?

user85 so not only is luke the youngest hughes brother, but he’s also the only one in a long-term relationship and the first one to have kids… jack and quinn better step it up

user03 they kept this a secret for nine months and then really just pulled a “SURPRISE!” on us?! he played hockey all the way up until the birth— they dropped NO hints

nhl congratulations luke and y/n!

_quinnhughes proud of you two and how much you’ve grown ❤️ not little kids chasing each other around with bugs and porcelain dolls anymore, are ya?

lhughes_06 nope, all grown up. in the league with 2 kids now! thanks bro

dolly.notparton not my fault he was scared of my dolls! have i mentioned that he made me get rid of them when i moved in?

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton once or twice a day, yeah

dolly.notparton those were my babies 💔

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton i just gave you 2 new babies… the real kind

dolly.notparton luke, you genius! i can get luella porcelain dolls!

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton NO! THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton look in the attic when you get home 😉

lhughes_06 THOSE DEMON THINGS HAVE BEEN UP THERE THE WHOLE TIME?!

[caitified]

Hey, can you write some more Kate stories please ? They are really good 😊

puppy love

kate martin x reader

warnings: none! more family series coming soon

kate’s been quiet since the loss. she’s not one to show it too much—always trying to be strong, for her teammates, for you—but you can see it in the way she moves around the apartment, slower than usual, her usual spark dimmed.

it’s been a tough adjustment, this first season in the league. vegas has been good to her, to both of you, but the end of the playoffs hit harder than either of you expected. you’ve been wracking your brain for days, trying to find a way to cheer her up.

and then it hits you—the idea you’ve been holding onto for years.

kate’s always wanted a dog. she talked about it all the time in college, her face lighting up as she’d scroll through adoption websites, dreaming of the day you’d finally have a place big enough, a schedule steady enough, to make it happen.

now feels like the perfect time.

you spend a few days researching, visiting shelters while she’s at practice, and finally, you find the one. a golden retriever mix with the sweetest brown eyes, one that practically melts into your hand the moment you meet him.

the adoption papers are signed that afternoon.

when kate comes home from her workout the next day, the apartment’s unusually quiet.

“babe?” she calls, setting her bag down by the door.

“in the living room!” you reply, barely containing your excitement.

she rounds the corner, her brows furrowing as she takes in the scene—you sitting on the couch, and the dog sitting at your feet, wagging his tail like he’s already claimed her as his favorite person.

“oh my god,” kate breathes, dropping her water bottle as her eyes widen.

“surprise,” you say softly, your smile growing as she just stands there, frozen.

“is this—?”

“he’s ours,” you confirm, patting your thigh to call the dog closer. he trots over to you, but his attention quickly shifts to kate, sniffing her cautiously before pressing his nose against her hand.

“you—” kate’s voice catches, and she sinks to her knees, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “you got me a dog?”

“i got us a dog,” you correct, watching as her eyes start to glisten. “i know how hard this season’s been for you. and i thought… maybe this would help.”

kate lets out a shaky laugh, wrapping her arms around the dog, who happily licks her cheek. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i try,” you tease, moving to sit beside her on the floor.

she looks over at you, her eyes still wet but filled with so much love it makes your chest ache. “seriously, i can’t believe you did this. he’s perfect.”

“you’re perfect,” you counter, leaning in to kiss her temple.

she laughs again, this time lighter, and rests her head on your shoulder. “what’s his name?”

“i was thinking you could pick,” you say, watching as the dog flops onto his back, clearly at home already.

kate grins, brushing a hand over the dog’s soft fur. “how about lucky? because that’s how i feel right now.”

you laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “lucky it is.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

wyatt johnston x hughes sister

she brings wyatt home with her to the lake house for the summer and her brothers really getting to see the two’s relationship

[ michigan summer ] w. johnston

part of the “falling for a hughes” au

paring : Wyatt Johnston x hughes!sister

summary : once Dallas gets eliminated from the playoffs, Lizzy brings Wyatt up to Michigan to spend the summer with her at the lake house with Quinn, Jack, Luke, and some friends

warning(s) : making out, slightly nsfw (nothing too bad), implied sex

author’s note : finally got healthy enough to actually sit down and write something. this isn’t my best work but i didn’t wanna leave y’all hanging. there is a lil something that i added in memory of johnny gaudreau in this fic bc it felt like i needed to do a lil something for him. fly high johnny & matthew gaudreau 🤍 (this is not gonna be the only fic in this universe that takes place at the lake house btw)

au masterlist

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She didn't mind staying in Dallas while the Stars were playing in the playoffs. The Pavelski's opened their house to her so she didn't have to stay in a hotel until either they got eliminated or won the whole thing. It could have been two weeks or it could have been two months. Lizzy is forever grateful for The Pavelski family and everything they've done for her and Wyatt, especially knowing that Joe is most likely retiring now that the season is over.

Now though? She's excited to go to Michigan like she does every summer. This summer is a bit different in that she gets to bring her boyfriend with her. Spending time with her brothers and some of their friends is her favorite thing to do in the offseason.

They depart Dallas about three days after Wyatt cleans out his locker and does his exit interview. There's an extensive and very emotional goodbye between Wyatt and Joe at the airport. There isn't a dry eye between her and Sarah as they watch their boys say goodbye. Lizzy thanks Sarah for the both of them before she and Wyatt make their way through security to get on their plane.

The plane to Michigan is filled with naps and laughing with Wyatt until it lands in Ann Arbor. Quinn waits for them with a car outside the airport. Jack sits in the passenger seat. Lizzy and Wyatt hop in the back once their things are loaded in the trunk.

"What's up, Sling Boy?" Lizzy asks as she slides in behind Jack. "How is your shoulder? Ready to get back on the ice?"

Jack turns and looks at her. "It's healing fine," he tells her. "You know I would get on the ice tomorrow if I could, but doc says I'm not allowed to skate until I'm cleared."

She smiles and scoots as close as she can to Wyatt. Quinn glances at the two of them in the rearview mirror and says, "No funny business in my backseat. You two hear me?"

"Aye, aye captain," Lizzy replies with a salute. She rests her head on Wyatt's shoulder and closes her eyes.

Quinn drives off with the windows down and she feels the Michigan air on her face. She feels like she’s finally home after a long season by being surrounded by all the people she loves in the place she loves.

The drive is about a half an hour long. Luke waits for the group on the back deck along with Seamus Casey, Ethan Edwards, and Mark Estapa. He greets his little sister with a hug. Lizzy says hi to his friends as she grabs her things from the car.

They walk into the house and Luke body blocks the stairs as he looks between his sister and Wyatt. “I want you to know that the walls are very thin and I am the room right next door to you two,” he tells them, his eyes more on Wyatt than her. “I don’t wanna be woken up at three in the morning because of the two of you. Got it?”

Lizzy’s cheeks get hot like all the blood from her body shoots to her face. “Luke, please,” she pleads. “This is so embarrassing.”

“You didn’t hear the conversation Pavs had with me after you went home after I introduced you to the team as my girlfriend,” Wyatt tells her. “That was embarrassing. This is just your big brother looking out for his sanity.”

Luke moves to the side. “It’s not a warning,” he says. “It was just a heads up that the walls are thin. I’ll sit you down later with Jack and Quinn to have The Talk.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps as she runs up the stairs. Wyatt laughs behind her as she runs into her usual bedroom. The door shuts when Wyatt is inside.

She opens the window to let the cool air into the room. It's a crisp 75 degrees with a breeze on the lake right now, which is a lot cooler than the weather she was faced with in Dallas the last few weeks. She sits on the bed and watches Wyatt look around her room.

The room is slightly bigger than her brother's rooms. Quinn has a room on the first floor, Jack and Luke share a room next door to her, and her parents' room is down the hallway. There are two guest bedrooms that Ethan, Seamus, and Mark are splitting.

She's updated her room over the last few years so it doesn't look like a childhood bedroom and has a more "adult" look, but she couldn't bring herself to pull down the One Direction posters that have been on her walls for ten years. The walls are still light pink from when she was 12 and she asked her father to paint them because she loved the color pink.

As she grabs her suitcase to unpack her things, Wyatt laughs. "Cute room," he comments. "Didn't know you were such a fan of pink."

"I was twelve, you asshole," she laughs. "I was obsessed with Barbie too. My whole room was pink at one point. Sheets, blankets, lamp. I had pink fairy lights around the mirror. All I wore was pink. It was really bad.”

Wyatt comes up from behind her and drapes his arms around her waist. “I would’ve loved to see that,” he tells her. She rolls her eyes with a smile on her lips while she continues to unpack her things.

“You would’ve thought I was a nerd or something if you knew me back then,” Lizzy explains. “We wouldn’t have been friends, Wyatt.”

“I like to think we would’ve been friends, or more, no matter how old we were or in any universe,” Wyatt mumbles next to her ear. Lizzy turns her head and looks up at her boyfriend. “I don’t think anything would stop me from knowing you.”

She lays out a shirt on top of the already forming pike and turns in Wyatt’s arms. He leaves his arms where they are as she drapes her arms around his neck. “Sap,” she teases.

“Duh.”

The pair share a laugh before Lizzy pulls him down to her level as an urge to be close to him suddenly overwhelms her. She gently claims his lips in a kiss that starts soft. It doesn’t take very long for the soft, gentle kiss into a heated, needy kiss.

Hands begin to roam over and under clothes as the kiss grows hotter. Wyatt pushes her onto her back on the mattress and he follows her as he climbs over her. She pushes his hair out of his eyes and decides that he’s not allowed to get anything more than a trim because she’s grown used to his longer playoff hair. She was already upset when he shaved.

Lizzy wraps his legs around his waist to keep him where he is as Wyatt’s lips leave hers to attach to her jaw. She bites her lip to keep herself from making any kind of noise. “Wyatt,” she sighs. “Gotta unpack.”

“This is more fun,” he tells her, lips brushing the sensitive skin on her jaw under her ear. Wyatt pulls back and meets her eyes. “Please? I spent all my time after we lost moping or packing my things or at the arena to clean out my gear. I rarely got to see you.”

He isn’t wrong. The first day after they lost, he moped in his room despite her, Joe, and Sarah trying to get him to come out. The second day he packed up his room. The third day he did his exit interview and was at the arena to clear out his gear. Then it was back to packing and looking for a new place to rent for next season with Logan. She rarely did get to see him.

That’s the only reason she says, “One round. Quick before my brothers come looking for us.”

“Deal.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A half an hour later, they can barely keep their hands off each other while they finish unpacking. Lizzy gives him half of the closet and one drawer for his things. She lets him take as much of the bathroom counter space as he needs since he doesn’t need much, and he does what he can with the space that’s left in the shower for his supplies.

It takes them an hour longer to unpack than it normally would because they get so caught up in each other. There was a five or ten minute interval where they stood in her bathroom making out. Lizzy called it a “much needed break” to justify it.

The pair leaves her room about two hours after they get to the house. Lizzy’s hand is in Wyatt’s as they walk down the steps to find her brothers, Ethan, Seamus, and Mark. The six of them sit around the living room when she and Wyatt walk in. Luke and Quinn have controllers in their hands and Chel is on the television.

“Predictable,” she comments as she leads Wyatt to one of the chairs adjacent to the couch that isn’t in use. Her boyfriend sits in the chair and she makes herself comfortable on his lap. “Do you guys play anything else besides hockey?”

Jack looks over to her. “Do you do anything besides your boyfriend?” he retorts. “I mean, two hours to unpack? We got bored waiting for you two to get done.”

She rolls her eyes as Wyatt drapes his arm over her thighs and she wraps an arm around his neck. “I had a lot of things,” she lies. “Sorry.”

Her older brother hums a “mhm” and turns his attention back to the game that’s being played. Luke is playing as Columbus and Quinn is playing as Calgary. Quinn has a tight two-to-one lead over his youngest brother. Being Luke’s twin, Lizzy takes his side and roots for him to win the game.

Wyatt and Jack play a round after Luke sneaks into the lead and wins three-to-two after scoring two goals late in the third period. Some good old fashioned Devils versus Stars in Newark. Lizzy turns on her brother and roots for Wyatt. Jack gives her a look every time Wyatt score and she cheers.

At the same time, Wyatt sees and experiences firsthand how competitive the Hughes siblings are because Jack begins to play dirty despite his shoulder being in a sling. Lizzy fights for Wyatt so he can focus on beating Jack.

"That all you got, Johnston?" Jack asks when Wyatt hits one of the Devils players -- she's pretty sure it was Jack his player hit -- and he goes down.

"Focus on your game, Hughes," Wyatt retorts instead of Lizzy. "Maybe you wouldn't be losing right now if you scored instead of trying to psych me out when you’re already at a disadvantage because of your shoulder."

Lizzy's jaw drops at his comeback, Quinn and Luke burst out laughing, and the Michigan boys smile. Jack sends him a glare and tries the Michigan goal with himself, and fails.

At the next stoppage, she leans into Wyatt’s ear and whispers, "That was kinda hot." He smiles and scores another goal to make it four-to-two going into the third period.

When Jack loses, he starts claiming that Wyatt cheated. “Lizzy was definitely helping him!” he accuses. “I mean, come on!”

Quinn claps his younger brother on the good shoulder and says, “I hate to break it to you, but Wyatt won fair and square.”

“I want a rematch.”

“And I want to go on the boat before it gets too dark or cold out,” Lizzy tells the group. “Wyatt’s never been on the boat either. I don’t know how to drive the boat so someone has to come out with me. Dad never taught me how.”

Her boyfriend puts his controller down on the table and taps Lizzy’s thigh so she moves. Lizzy stands up and looks around the room before she turns to walk out of the room. Quinn follows first, then Luke. The Michigan boys are next. Jack wallows in his loss.

When she gets to her room, she grabs one of the one piece suits that she packed. She’s not going to waste a bikini on a mid-70 degree late afternoon when she’s here all summer long. It’s a solid black piece with a very low cut neck that shows off a lot more cleavage than her brothers would probably like. Wyatt doesn’t seem to mind when she wears this bathing suit. He matches her with a pair of black swim shorts and one of his Stars hockey shirts with a 53 on his chest. She throws one of the shirts she stole borrowed from Wyatt before leaving the room.

The boys are down on the dock by the time she and Wyatt get outside. Quinn is in the driver’s seat and the rest of the group is scattered in the back. She and Wyatt find a place to sit next to each other, then they’re off.

Lizzy laces her fingers with Wyatt’s and rests her head on his shoulder while her boyfriend converses with her twin brother. Her eyes are closed and she listens to the two of them talk about the playoffs and how great Wyatt’s performance was.

“We couldn’t stop cheering for you guys,” Luke tells him. “Especially you. You were a point machine, Wyatt. Gave playoff McDavid a run for his money. You most likely would’ve passed him had you guys moved on to the Cup finals.”

A small smile forms on her lips as she hears her brothers all compliment Wyatt. She knows what their words mean to him. Not only are they coming from a Calder nominee, a top forward, and a top defenseman in the NHL, but they’re coming from his girlfriend’s brothers. Their words mean a lot to Wyatt, and he’s told her that nearly a dozen times since February.

The cool late afternoon Michigan air feels good on her skin after being in the humid 90 degrees in Dallas for the past month and a half. The breeze coming off the lake whips through her hair. Lizzy feels herself begin to relax as the boat bobs up and down with the waves. Quinn steers the boat into deeper lake water before they anchor so they can swim.

Luke immediately is in the water when Quinn drops anchor. Ethan and Mark are right behind him. Jack sits on the boat with his feet in the water since he’s still not cleared. Wyatt jumps in with Quinn and Lizzy sits beside her older brother. Seamus sits on his phone behind them.

She looks over at Jack and asks, “How are you really? I feel like I haven’t asked you that enough since you ended your season early to get surgery.”

With a shrug and a sigh, Jack replies, “Frustrated that I can’t do much until I get cleared. Hopefully that’s in two weeks or else the cover shoot is gonna be jeopardized in July. I need to be able to fully skate, take passes, shoot the puck. Do all that in full gear and uniform. I feel good but I’m frustrated that I feel good and can’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry, Jacky,” she says with a frown. “I will say that I am glad you’re taking the doctor’s advice to rest and do your physical therapy without pushing yourself. I know you want to get back on the ice with our brothers but I am glad you’re not pushing yourself to get there.”

He looks over at Lizzy. “I want to have a healthy season,” he explains. “I haven’t hit the one hundred point mark yet because of injuries. I could’ve hit it in the 22-23 season, but I was out with injury for a handful of games. Then last year I was on pace for it then was out for nearly twenty games. It’s incredibly frustrating to be so close but so far, you know?”

She nods but in reality, she doesn’t know. Lizzy played hockey and she’s good, but not good like her brothers. She wasn’t going to the PWHL, but she’s occasionally been on the US national women’s team. There was never any pressure on her like there are on her brothers and her boyfriend. Yes, her last name is Hughes, but she’s never been under that pressure of being a Hughes since she’s decided to go into college and temporarily suspend her hockey career.

The boys splash in the lake and Quinn is trying to drown Luke, but Lizzy’s full attention is on Jack right now. She drapes an arm around her middle brother’s neck and pulls him into a gentle side hug. “Love you, Jacky,” she tells him. “No matter what.”

Jack rests an arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder. The pair of siblings stay like that for a few moments, watching their brothers and friends in the lake.

She watches Wyatt swim up to the boat. He treads water in front of her and asks, “You coming in on your own or do I have to drag you in here?”

“Don’t you dare touch me, Wyatt Johnston,” she warns him as she lets her brother go. “I swear to God, you won’t like it if you pull me in the water.”

A mischievous smirk forms on his lips. Wyatt glances over at Jack. Lizzy looks over at her brother as he shoves her into the lake with his good arm.

She gasps and holds her breath as she goes under the cold water. Her head breaks through the surface and she looks up at Jack in the boat. “You’re so lucky that you’re hurt or I’d be pulling your ass into the water,” she tells him.

Jack sticks his tongue out at her. “That’s what you get for helping Wyatt beat me at Chel,” he retorts. “Enjoy the water, baby sister.”

A pair of arms wraps around her waist and she spins. Lizzy is face to face with Wyatt. He kicks them away from the boat and she wraps her legs around his waist as he kicks but drops them as soon as he stops. She wraps her arms around his neck.

Water droplets roll down his face from his hair. His blue eyes are brighter as the sun reflects off the water. Lizzy can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Is it bad at that I think it’s hot that you’re soaking wet in my t-shirt?” he questions. “Because all I can think about is how it’s going to hug your body when you get onto the boat and I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

She smiles and plays with the wet hair on the back of his neck. “Only you would find me hot in a wet t-shirt,” she teases. Wyatt laughs and pushes a wet strand of hair out of her face. “I mean, come on, Wyatt.”

He pulls her closer to him by her waist until their noses touch. Her chest is flush against his. “Sorry that I find my girlfriend hot,” he mumbles.

Lizzy barely rolls her eyes before Wyatt captures her lips in a tame kiss. She reciprocates with the same gentleness as Wyatt had. Her hands slide to his jaw and she cups his face.

One of Wyatt’s hands slide into her hair and he cups the back of her neck. The kiss deepens very slightly when she tests the waters and licks across Wyatt’s bottom lip. Wyatt grants her full access and she takes advantage. A quiet hum bubbles from Wyatt’s throat. It’s only loud enough for her to hear.

Wyatt’s free hand slides up the shirt she’s wearing and rests it on her ass. She giggles into the kiss that follows.

“Ayo!” Luke shouts from twenty feet away. “Keep it PG! We don’t wanna see you trying to eat our sister’s face, Wyatt!”

She waves him off without breaking the kiss. Wyatt just laughs against her lips before he pulls back. “Are they going to say something every time I touch you?” he asks.

“Probably,” she admits with a soft smile. “I don’t think they’re used to the fact that their baby sister has a serious boyfriend. This is the first time you’re spending more than a day or two with them.”

Wyatt smiles. “Guess I’ll just have to keep it PG then,” he teases.

“It’s okay to push it to PG-13 sometimes,” she tells him. “They’ll get used to it.”

“Hope so,” Wyatt says. His voice lowers for a second as he continues talking. “Because I like touching you like I am right now with my hand on your ass.”

He gives her butt a little squeeze and she laughs. “I can’t stand you,” she lies.

“Mhm.”

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[theemporium]

A smut-berry daiquiri #6 with barzy ❤️?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

.

It wasn’t often Mat got into moods like this.

After so many years of playing in the NHL, he knew how to handle his emotions well. He knew how to handle the defeats and the disappointments. He knew how to validate his feelings and bask in them for a few hours before pushing the bad games to the back of his mind and focusing on the next one. He had a system in place and it worked pretty well—nine times out of ten.

But this was different. 

It felt like an uphill battle from the start with people seeming surprised that the Islanders made the playoffs. Mat doesn’t typically give much thought or attention to those comments, nor does he linger on them. But for some reason they stuck, they were glaring back at him on nights where he should have been sleeping or resting or stepping away from hockey. 

And when the buzzer sounded and the reality of the hockey season being over for the season as they were knocked out, Mat felt a tightness in his chest he couldn’t shake away. 

The disappointment was overwhelming and overbearing and suffocating. It was taking over his body as he shuffled through the locker room, as he listened to the countless speeches and comforts everyone gave each other. It clung onto him no matter how much he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed in the shower. 

He couldn’t get it to stop. He couldn’t get his brain to quieten down. He couldn’t shake off the tightness in his chest. 

And in moments like this, sometimes all Mat really needed was you. 

“Shhh, doing so well for me, baby.” 

Mat’s eyes clenched shut, his hands coming to cover his face as he felt his skin burn and his blush spread across his face and down his chest. He let out a choked noise of pleasure as your hand squeezed the base of his cock, stroking him at a slow and steady pace until he was squirming and wiggling under your touch. 

“Please, fuck,” he whined, his hips bucking into your hand. 

“I know, baby, I know,” you murmured, pressing soft kisses along his hip bones and stomach. “You look so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” 

His cock twitched in response.

“Don’t cover your face,” you complained, lightly biting down on his thigh until his hands fell to his sides to clench the sheets between his tight fists. “Atta boy, baby, wanna hear the pretty noises you make.”

Mat swallowed, the coil in his stomach tightening as he felt himself nearing the edge. “Baby—”

“Let me take care of you,” you hummed as you pressed a kiss on his thigh, then his abs, then his chest until you reached his lips. “I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head.”

Mat whined, nodding his head.

“Good boy,” you smiled, pecking the corner of his lips. “Always so fucking perfect for me.”

.

[huggybearluvr]

hey!

Can I request a fic with Daswon Mercer ? Like any storylien you want.

only mine || dm91

summary: Yours and Dawson's relationship has never been defined or public. However, after Sebastian Aho starts chirping yours brothers using you as the target, Dawson can't help but defend his girl.

warnings: mentions of a fight (not much detail), slut shaming? kinda not really

Masterlist

You knew there was a possibility of a fight tonight. Your brother Jack, had fought Sebastian just last season in the playoffs. However, you did not expect to see Dawson standing over the hurricanes player.

The game was going pretty smoothly both teams playing equally well, the score was 0-0 half way through the second.

Your breathe hitched watching as Aho poked the puck away from Bratt taking it down the devils end for a one on one with Daws.

The net hit the back of net earning many boos from the crowd. However, your eyes were fixaited on him as he skated over to your brothers. You couldn't hear what he said but by the angered look on your brothers faces it wasn't good.

You watched as Dawson immediately turned around, pushing your brothers back, as he flung off his gloves. Aho followed however, did not get a single hit off, as Dawson knocked him to the ground and continued his attack.

It wasn't until Nico and Jack ripped Dawson off of him that the fight was over. Dawson was ejected from the game slinging out some harsh threats you couldn't hear past the ice, breaking a stick, and leaving the ice.

You immediately got up heading to the locker room.

You flashed your badge and I.D at the security guard making your way to the locker room.

You gently knocked on the door wanting to make sure Dawson was alone before you entered.

"What." Dawsons aid angrily before he turned around seeing you, his eyes immediately softened. His arms opened, inviting you in. You hesitated for second standing at the door, "Baby please, need you right now."

He gave you a pleading look. You stepped forward into his arms as they wrapped tightly around you.

"You know your my girl right?" He whispered into your ear, "I want you to be my girl, no one else's."

You pulled back untucking your head from his chest to look at him, you gave him a soft smile, kissing his lips," I know Daws, I know."

"Now, tell me what happened?" You asked giving him a pleading look.

"Fucking Aho," He said shaking his head recalling his words," He was chirping your brothers but when he brought you into it I kinda lost it," He admitted knowing that it wasn't the best idea he's had in awhile.

"What did he say?" You asked curiously.

"He said he was gonna take you for a spin next and he was sure you'd slut yourself out to any guy in the league."

Your eyes rolled, "Well I'm sure he learned his lesson."

Dawson let out a soft chuckle, leaning down meeting your lips once more," That's my girl."

"Only your's Daws, only your's," You smiled up at him.

--------

Inbox is open! request prompts are in navigation!

[writingonleaves]

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

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

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

title: "the blue" by gracie abrams

word count: 19.7k (whoops!)

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

*****

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

Lukey Hughes

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

Quinny Hughes

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

Jacky Hughes

CLEMENTINE

you’re coming to new york????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Not happy to see us?” Quinn teases. 

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

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

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

“You’re only 26?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Clem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She blinks. “What’s later?”

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

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

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

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

She lights up. “Her pumpkin pie?”

“Yup.”

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

“Mmhmm. We’ll drive there together.”

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

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

Left some pasta for you in the fridge. xoxo Quinn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I call dibs after!” Quinn calls out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, she needs to get out more. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Luke?”

“Taking his sweet ass time.”

She instinctively shoves him. “Be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were out west before?”

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

“But back east now?”

“Back east now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re seeing things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With who?” Luke shoots back.

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

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

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

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

…..

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

She musters a smile. “Hey there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico hums. “It looks nice. More…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it at your place?” Clementine asks. 

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico just nods.)

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

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

During her lunch break, she calls Jack.

“Hello?”

“Jacky?”

“Clee? Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s yours now too.”

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

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

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

“Hey,” she greets Jack and Nico. 

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

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

“Hey Clementine.”

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

“Long day?” Jack asks. 

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

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

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

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

“You close with them?

“Extremely.”

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

He hesitates. ���Usually, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Jack protests. 

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

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

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

“Sometime in December, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…thoughts?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My bracelets?”

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

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

“You love them a lot,” Nico observes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Owen claps his hands. “C-cuh-”

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

“Unca Jack!”

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

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

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

Reanne grins, “Is that true?”

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

Caroline offers her arm. “You coming?”

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

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

“I bet,” she says softly. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What did you think?”

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Center.” 

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

“Do you just want me to say you?”

“Not if it’s not true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be right back,” Clementine promises. 

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

…..

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

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

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

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

“You like him, don’t you?”

“As a person, absolutely. He’s very-”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I be scared?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s super warm,” Luke says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. I love them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

“Morning boys.”

“Morning Clemmy.”

“Happy new year!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“From Quinn. He specifically requested sunflowers.”

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

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

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

in loving memory of

Miguel Alejandro Sandoval

April 3, 1968 - January 1, 2015

beloved son, uncle, friend, husband and father

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

Nico furrows his eyebrows. “From who?”

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

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

Captain, 

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

With love, 

Clementine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just beams. Nico wants to bottle it up. 

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

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

Luke Hughes

Ask her out already 

I’m getting impatient

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re happy with that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime. You looked great out there earlier.”

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

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

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

“Not by choice,” she grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He told you that?”

“More or less. He’s not subtle.”

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, not until after lunch.”

“Perfect. Are you hungry?” 

“A bit actually, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You come around here often?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

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

“Of course I would.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack and Luke know how to make pancakes?”

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

“What does she do?”

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

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

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

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

“That makes sense.”

“Do you speak any other languages?” 

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

“Is all your family in the states?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

“You’re deflecting,” Jack sings. 

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

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

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

She collapses on her bed and screams into her pillow)

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses her. 

Oh. 

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

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

“You have impeccably shit timing, Cap.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

[jocelynscrazyideas]

I want some Quinn smut/fluff maybe he’s stressed and he asks to c0ckwarm? I’m sorry I’m H WORD

April | Quinn Hughes x Reader

Warnings: p in v (unprotected), language, dirty talk, and I think that it?!

Summary: Quinn and Y/N have some fun after being stuck at home, the terrible rain storms caused the caunucks team practice to be canceled, and they end up getting active at the end of the day.

A:N- as usual not proof read, and I’m glad you enjoy the Quinn content!! Sorry I couldn’t add much but I did write a bit🫶

━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━

It’s the first week if spring. April 7th. It’s so relaxing being in Vancouver, we have an off day, we play the Vegas Golden Knights tomorrow.

“Baby?” Quinn says as he knocks on our bedroom door. “Do we have more brown sugar?” I’m guessing Quinn is trying to bake.

“No. You’re not baking. Not again, you almost burnt our house down last time.” I say as I get up, I’m dressed in black leggings and a red sports bra, on top I have a white shirt that belongs to Quinn.

How sweet. He knows I’ve been craving for ye taste of homemade baked goods. He’s such a man.

“I can see your undergarments.” Quinn motions to my red bra, I know he’s really horny, but it’s a tuff time, regular season is ending, and everyone is fighting for their playoff games. So I promise him that I won’t distract him by having ex with him.

I pull at his chain and I step on my tiptoes. “Yes, yes you can. And don’t call it that, just be grown and call it a bra.” I say as I stare into his blue eyes. His nose touches mine. Quinn pushed his forehead on mine, I feel him getting closer. I pull away and pull his shirt with me.

“Stop walking me. I’m not a dog.” Quinn starts to whine. He sure seems like one.

I take him to our kitchen downstairs. Quinn is wearing blavk shorts and has his blue support boxers on, he’s also really shirtless. He turbs me on everytime I see him.

“Are you on your period?” Quinn asks me.

Weird.

“No, why?” I respond, I’m thinking he’s just really gross and has a kink for blood.

“Just wondering.” Quinn states as he turns in his heels and pulls at the fridge door to grab some milk. He’s baking brownies. I think he’s making the chewy brownies that I love. “I’ll just make the regular brownies then. Since we don’t have brown sugar.” Quinn looks at me and he pulls my neck into his chest as he walks me to our couch.

“This is our only day together until I have to train next week.” Quinn mentions as he sits on top of me. I feel his hard cock on my pelvis. I look down and he’s rocking his hips onto me. His hair is dangling down, so as his chain. I pull him down onto me as he kisses my neck all the way down to my knees. I feel him breathing in my pussy.

I hear hard rain hitting the roof of our home. Lighting crashes, thunder hits. A storm rolls in, spring it is.

“Baby, not now.” I say pulling him up. He grunts as he forcefully picks me up and he takes my leggings off.

He breathed heavy once again, noticing I’m not wearing panties underneath my clothes.

“Hm…” Quinn trails off looking at my see through shirt and looks at my red bralette.

“Lovely.” He says as he locks onto my hands. I’m holding on to this arms as he cradles me as if I’m a baby. He rushes up to our bedroom and he pins me up against our slightly open closet door. I see my lingerie hanging in our closet as my back shuts the door closed. I can sense he wants more than just kisses.

He pulls off my shirt as he swoops his shorts and boxers iff. He looks me up and down. He starts with my boob. He licks my right nipple, and he starts to massage my left breast. He slips my bra off and I’m bare. Nothing on my skin. His dick slaps agisnt his lower abdomen. He licks his hand as he jerks himself. He starts to groan. He’s cock is growing on his hand as I start to get horny as well.

“You’re not in your period, so I can fuck you as hard as I please.” Quinn stares as he strokes my cunt. He pleads that I don’t move.

“No, because I promised-“ I mentions the promise of no distractions.

“You’re helping me get rid of distractions, you’ll never be a problem in my life.” Quinn respond eagerly, he goes down my hips. He licks my bud. He starts to get me at the verge of cumming. He pulls away soon as I squirt. Lights go out. I hear all the power turn off. The fan, the music that was playing downstairs, the oven preheating, and the electric lock that held our home closed off to the public had all been turned off.

Quinn didn’t care, he stuffed three fingers into my opening, and he stared to caress my pussy. He pumped and pumped, he got up and used my precum on his hands to get himself wet.

He pushed me onto our bed, and he stuffed his cum-covered fingers into his cock. He sits me all the way down and he hold my hair into his hands. He stuffs his penis into my mouth. I feel his tip dripping of cum. He drills into my mouth, almost thrusting into the back of my throat. I start to suck, he starts to grip harder on my hair. I feel that he’s on the verge of cumming, so I start to play with his balls. I massage the sack that protects our future kids. He starts to groan and he’s moaning into the night.

Thunder whips into replacement of his cries. “Keep going mamas. I need to feel it.”

Quinn keeps chirping at me.

“You can take it. Just a little more.” He said and he shoved himself all the way into the back of my throat I start gagging, and he leaks out streams of warm strings of cum. He disposed everything and I lick it all up. I swalllo part of it. I get up as if I’m in control. He open his mouth kissing me back and I stuff his cum back into his mouth. I feel him suck on my tounge. He pulls into me, pushing my hips forward into his shaft. I feel him hard against his body and it’s now pushing on me. We stand together, I’m in my knees on top of our bed, and Quinn is standing, clinging into bed with me. He lays down, as I climb on top of him.

“I need you right now.” I say and I push his head back all the way. He expects me to take him inside of me, but I felt a little dry.

“Open.” I commanded.

Quinn opens his mouth stuck his tounge out and let me sit on his face. He sucked me dr until I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to rock my hips onto his face, his nose perfectly hitting my clit, and he around eating my insides. His hands held my ass as I stared to squirm.

I hope off once’s I cummed, and I was ready to take him on. I backed off and pushed his large cock into my cunt. Quinn is to big, I wait a few seconds before I get used to him to breathe.

“Cmon baby girl, you’ve taken ig before you can do it again. This time it’s not just for me, you can please yourself on top as well.” Quinn squeaks as he starts to jerk up. His hips are up and I slide around. I push him back downs as I hop up and down. I moan as I can feel his boner inside me. It’s as if he’s hitting my lungs.

He cummed once again, matching with the storm. I loook at the indie bside our bed. Rain starts to trickled down again.

“Quinn I need you on top I can’t.”

He didn’t listen. He buckles me on top when he ties his hands onto my pelvis. I start to roll onto my stomach as I match our bodies together. Now we fit, just like a puzzle piece. I kiss him, but I am moving so much that our lips aren’t connecting. I feel just cummed flavor tounge massaging my lips.

It’s April. I can feel the allergies kick in once I start to cum on top of him. I sneeze and he licks my mouth clean from any kind of dust. I taste my salty liquid still on top of his tounge.

“Baby, I’m so stressed just let me go on top okay?” Quinn says as he pulls away from out kiss.

He gets on top of me as we switch positions. He starts to thrust into me. He humps like he’s riding a horse. He gets cold after we both cummed. He cleabs me up with a tissue from our nightstand, and he sits inside of me.

“Can I just stay here?” Quinn says as he is warm out. “I’m tired, and I’m freezing.”

after a while he got soft and he needed to pull out.

But we ended up holding eachother for minutes and he felt that he almost fell asleep. He got stuck in side of me.

I wish it was that easy to un tangle outselves. He had to thrust indies of me to get hard again, which hurt a ton. We went for a round 4 and he pulled out.

He held me in his arms for hours until the rain stopped and April was just April.

Allergies were just allergies.

And playoffs were just playoffs.



[comphy-and-cozy]

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo. 

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel. 

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans. 

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki. 

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor. 

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year. 

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?” 

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.” 

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full. 

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them. 

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too. 

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats. 

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome. 

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island. 

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders. 

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs. 

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty. 

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it. 

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” 

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face. 

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend. 

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently. 

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended. 

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing. 

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there. 

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length. 

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars. 

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm. 

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him. 

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs. 

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye. 

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply. 

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

[nattblacklupin]

Ice and blood

Pairing: Hockey player! Cassian x Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff and smut (so mdni 18+), possessive Cassian, Cassian fights someone, people flirting with Cassian, p in v, little bit of overstimulation, praise kink, dirty talk

Summary: headcanons about dating hockey player! Cassian

Masterlist ● hockey player! Azriel/ Eris

Cassian totally gives off offence vibes, not scared to get into fights (most of the time, it's him who provokes his opponents until they give in). It was quite the opposite. He loves getting into fights.

He made a reputation of someone you don't wanna meet on the ice, and totally not have a fight with him.

After every fight, he looked your way and waved at you, making everyone jealous cause how you managed to get Cassian, who was known for his playboy personality.

Sitting in the family section as close to the ice as you could be would be a dream come true for many people. But for you, it was truly a nightmare right now. Your boyfriend was on the ice having a fight with some other buff player from the other team. They were shit-talking each other even before the game started, the tension getting higher as the other player kept crosschecking and hitting players on Cassian's team. With bated breath, you watch them circle around each other, occasionally throwing punches that did little to no damage - when suddenly Cassian took his jersey in his hand and threw him on the ground. Fans got notably louder, and you let out the breath you didn't even know you were holding. Cassian turned to you while leaving the ice and sent you a kiss.

Don't even think about going to any of his matches without a jersey with his name on it. Not just that, it made him especially horny - but it gave him an incredible boost of energy.

He always called you his lucky charm. That's why you had to go with him on every game. He strongly believed he would lose without his favourite girl there.

"Cassian baby, you know I have to do things for work. I will come on the next game, " you said with head buried in his chest, nearly suffocating because of his muscled breast.

"Nono, this is the most important game of the season, plus I already said that I can financially take care of both of us" his lips leaving butterfly kisses on your neck, slowly breaking you and bending you to his will.

"So will you go with me, please?" Seeing his puppy eyes, you just left out a sign and went into your shared bedroom to take out his jersey.

Sometimes, other players would use you to rill up Cassian. Most of the time, it was winking at you or even throwing their own jersey at you with words that it would be prettier on you than Cassian's.

Cassian has a ritual routine after every game in the playoffs. It includes you, him, and an empty locker room. By now, his whole team knows to get away as fast as possible and to not be in the locker room alone with you two. It still didn't save him from teasing coming out of Azriel and Rhysand, but he didn't care that much. Not with you on his cock.

"Faster, come on show me what you got princess" Bouncing you up and down on his cock while he laid on beachers they had there. "I-I can't it's too much Cass," your whole body was sore after the third orgasm he gave you in thirty minutes. "One more, I will cream your pussy. Fill you up for good, never going to let you go. " his fingers found your pearl playing with it, making you moan his name. "That's how I like it, good job, love." He was kissing your neck in a gentle yet rough way. Marking you up so everyone knew to whom you belonged. "I-Im close," Cassian's thursts became sloppy and faster as he himself was close. "Come with me, baby."

Everybody by now knows that you two are a thing, and sometimes fans even come to take photos with you as if you were Cassian himself.

Situations like these always make you smile, especially when little kids come to you saying how they wish to be like your husband (you couldn't make yourself correct them - maybe cause you too wish it was true).

That brings on the spotlight Cassian propose plan. Poor baby planned it for nearly half a year before he even was somehow satisfied, forcing Rhysand and Azriel to do a presentation about what was good on his plan and motivation that you won't say no to him.

That finally calmed Cassian down, and he could put his plan in motion. The first step was to win the Prythian league.

You rushed on the ice to hug Cassian. Incredibly happy and proud of him and his team for winning the playoffs and becoming the best team in the history of the Prythian League. "You did it!" You couldn't contain your happiness screaming into Cassian ear while hugging him. He was spinning you in his arms with an iron grip on your waist. "I wouldn't do it without you, babe." He kissed you roughly on the lips before going down in front of you. Tears welled up in your eyes, already knowing where this is going. "Y/N L/N, will you marry me?" You started jumping up and down while nearly slipping on the eyes."Yes! One hundred times, yes!" Both of you now crying tears of pure joy while everyone cheered for you and Cassian.

"I promise to buy you chicken nuggets every day from now"

[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 10.5k (part EIGHT of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

october 4th ~ friday ~ 8:45 p.m.

A pop song from decades past hummed through the speakers, the sound at volume incredibly tolerable. You were thanking the girl behind the bar with your mind for not blaring it when there was barely anybody in the place. A couple older guys with baseball caps sat around the bar, the tv’s hanging up on the wall behind the curly blonde working hard played a baseball game. The playoffs had started for the season, these were important games now, there’d be a champion in a month or so.

DK’s team didn’t make it through, but they came close. Thinking of Isla while you watched the men in striped jerseys throw the ball around, guilt weighed on your chest. It’d been over a week and still, no one had heard from her. Not even Vernon.

Turning your glass in circles where it collected condensation on the wooden table you sat at, you leaned forward and took a sip, letting the vodka cool the pressure building within you from the inside out. It wasn’t too strong, not like the drinks at ATZ, but it was enough to ease the anxieties that had made their home within your nervous system.

For a week you’ve been a nauseous wreck. 

Last Saturday, the recruitment dinner, where it felt like your life had crumbled overnight, haunted you. Everything you thought you knew, everybody you thought you could trust, it was all a lie. Not only a lie, but a lie that had been brewing for a year. Since last semester, since Yeji walked out of that bedroom with that smug grin on her face, since Wooyoung threw away what the two of you had, since Yunho became your saving grace… A lie. All of it.

Wooyoung and Yeji never slept together. Were you supposed to believe that? He was pretty convincing Saturday night, pulling you out of the house once the two groups of authorities dispersed, Yeji running off somewhere before you had a second to confront her. 

And, oh lord, you longed to confront her.

ITZ had been paid off. Yeji gave them copious amounts of money so that she could be president. At least, that’s what Wooyoung had told you. It was your name, you were written down, Choi Aurora, you were supposed to be the president of ITZ for the last two years of your time here at Nasara, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Yeji has the money, Yeji has the face, Yeji has the fame. You have no money, you lived in a two bedroom rancher with your single, drug dealing father, and you have not the slightest idea what it takes to be a leader of a group of girls in dire need of somebody to look up to, somebody to place their blame on.

President Aurora? Yeah, okay.

Lighting up on the table, your phone took your attention from the TV though you longed to watch. The fans in the stands were on their feet, waving their rally towels in the air, shouting to their favorite players on the field. It was exciting, invigorating, no wonder Vernons dedicated his life to the sport. You’d have to get out to a game next season. Maybe if you could track down Isla, get them to make up somehow, you’d be able to go to games together.

You’d choose Tori first, always, but unfortunately you weren’t speaking at the moment.

She was the one lighting up your phone. Blowing it up, actually. Texts, phone calls, attempts to get through to you since she woke up on Sunday and you were nowhere to be found. Not answering her hurt you, because she was the only person you’d respond to straight away no matter the situation, no matter what you were doing. If you had a Tori notification, you were answering it. To go almost a week without speaking to her, it pained you. But, at this point, who knew what and didn’t tell you?

You needed time. You needed space. You still attended your classes for the week, ensuring your grades didn’t slip amidst this chaos, you just didn’t live at ITZ.

“I’ll buy you another if you need it, you don’t have to worry about nursing that one,” your father said, sitting beside you, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. Sipping your drink again, taking a much longer sip than before, you shifted your eyes over to him and he laughed. “You get to relax this weekend, okay? We can turn off your phone and hang out, just me and you.”

Almost laughing at his use of hang out, you smirked and swallowed your drink. “What about Seulgi?”

Yeonjun smiled, shaking his head. “Just me and you.” Taking in his twisted brows, the most animated part of his face, something you wonder if you’ve acquired from him, you took a breath. The door to the bar swung open, your father laughing as the tall, short black haired, thirty years younger, beefier version of himself walked through the door. “And Keeho, apparently.” 

His feline eyes scanned around the bar, not taking long to spot you and your father. When he did, his resting bitch face erupted into the warmest smile, one you’ve missed. Ignoring the girl at the bar who greeted him, he held out his arms and hurried toward the table, catching you as you jumped to your feet to get swallowed by his hug.

“Oh my god,” he sang, the twang of his voice comforting you tenfold. “What the hell are you doing home? I missed you.”

Squeezing him hard, you groaned. “I missed you, too.”

“We just saw each other last month.” Yeonjun snickered.

Keeho shot him a look over your head, one of his hands smoothing over your hair. “It was a month too long, Yeonjun.” Unraveling yourself from his grasp, you laughed and sat back down beside your father, pulling your feet up onto the chair.

Yeonjun closed his eyes for all of three seconds, took a deep breath and let it out with a headshake, turning his attention toward the TV. Keeho was the only person he’d allow to snap at him like that, it’s been that way for years. He’s one of your homegrown friends, the two of you growing up together in the forgotten parts of Tamoe, where the rich people didn’t linger. Your houses were on the same street, right along the town's border of Soro, the main reason why the rich people didn’t stray too far south.

Sharing an age with you, Keeho still lived at home with his parents and his younger brother. Attending all the same schools at the same time, not wanting to mess with the other kids who were tougher than you, the two of you linked up. Keeho, a bisexual muscle mass of pure boy, and you, the girl who wouldn’t see her dad for weeks at a time, but when she did it’s because she had to go to a random police station with her Uncle Yoongi to bail him out of his holding cell.

Yeonjun knew how to make a scene, he could draw a crowd, which made it really hard to keep friends, or make any for that matter. Keeho was the right amount of different, the right amount of crazy, the perfect amount of understanding all wrapped into a judgement free, couldn’t care less human being. Even when he met your father, at the ripe age of eleven years old, he wasn’t afraid. At the time Yeonjun towered over him, but now, Keeho was only an inch shorter. The difference unnoticeable.

Seated around the wooden slab, Keeho stretched his arms across it and watched you wide eyed as you told him how you've been living your week.

“Father of the year, Yeonjun,” he said to your dad, making him crack the smallest smile, his eyes not leaving the TV. All week he’d been driving you into Delo, onto Nasara’s campus, taking you to and from classes, waiting for you outside the buildings. He’d often mumble his disappointment toward the students who’d let their glares linger on you as you walked in and out. Most had a dirty look in their eye, but a few watched in sympathy.

“I don’t want her in that house anymore,” he mumbled, scoffing as something happened within the game. “Not unless those social media posting bitches grow up.”

Keeho furrowed his brows, turning to you. “You’re gonna drop out of the sorority?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, ignoring your dad as he shot you a look.

“Tell him what that girl did,” he said. “The president of that stupid hierarchy shit.”

“Wait, Yeji?” Keeho asked, sitting up. After you nodded, he laughed. “You’re kidding me, what the hell happened? I know we weren’t looking forward to her being head of this hierarchy shit, not after…” His eyes insinuated what your father didn’t know. “What’d she do?”

Sighing, you dropped your gaze to the table and shrugged. “It sounds literally crazy, Kee. Like, those movies we used to watch, where the shit that goes down is unfathomable.”

“Unfathomable,” he huffed a laugh, “You’re talking like Yunho.”

Letting your eyes close, the sting of your heart overwhelming, you glanced at your dad when he snatched his empty glass off the table.

“Fuck that dickwad, too,” he said, lifting the glass toward Keeho before he strutted toward the bar. He watched Yeonjun walk away, then whipped his head to look at you wide eyed and confused as hell.

“Fuck that dickwad too,” you whispered.

Scooting his chair somewhat closer, Keeho leaned toward you. “I thought we liked him,” he said quietly, keeping the words between you. “At least, I thought you liked him, I could see it, Aura. When we hung out with him this summer, good lord, the two of you were insufferable.”

Everyone could see it but you, apparently.

Tangling your fingers together over your knees, you smushed your lips together and blew a stream of air through them. “I don’t even know if he ever really liked me.” 

Keeho threw his head backward. “What the fuck, start from the beginning, what the hell happened?”

So, you did.

Starting from the beginning, restating the story of Wooyoung, who Keeho had strong opinions about. From the Yeji hook up, to falling into Yunho, to the ATZ ban, to finding out about him and Mina, to hooking up with Seonghwa, to then hooking up with Yunho, to him telling you he loved you (where Keeho just about leapt out of his seat), to the Soul situation, to keeping it all a secret from the outside, to Isla disappearing, to the recruitment dinner…

“You said all of that to her?!” Keeho’s tone was harsh through his teeth, his whisper sharp. When you shrugged he cackled. “Aura, what?!”

“I don’t know if that’s really all of it, it’s blurry,” you said. “But, I think I went in on her. It just kept coming out. I think I was tired of keeping it all a secret.”

“You said she didn’t react?” Keeho asked, and took your nod for an answer. “Aura,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Looking at… all of that,” he spoke slowly, thinking at the same time, “Do you think there’s a chance she, like, knew about you guys already?”

The words should shock you, but they don't. You’ve thought about it already. The way they all huddled up together, aside from Tori and Yuna, making everything seem like one big ploy. Seonghwa sleeping with you, Yunho not getting rid of Mina when he should’ve the second he started harboring feelings for you… If he was even harboring feelings for you.

“And what about Mingi? If Tori knew, and she’s likely to tell her boyfriend everything, did Mingi spill shit to ATZ? But, if ATZ and ITZ were in cahoots this whole time it seems, and Mina already knew, it could’ve been her spilling shit to everyone?”

None of it made sense, even Keeho, who was smarter than Yunho, couldn’t figure it out. All week you’ve been trying to string it together, trying to understand why any of this had to happen. If Yeji wanted to be president so badly, and she had the money to do so, why in the world would she need to ruin your life in the process?

“Have you talked to Tori at all?”

Her name made your stomach start to hurt.

“No,” you said, taking in his understanding gaze full of sorrow. “I can’t talk to any of them, I’m so sick about it. Which makes me want to drop out of the house and run away. They’re… monsters. All of them. She looked at me like she had no idea, Kee, I can say that. It seemed like she and Yuna weren’t in on it, which I can only hope.” Mingi pops into your mind, the way he tried to reach out for Tori before you left, but she swatted him away, pushing him back. You had no reason to not trust Tori, even though she did get really close with Mina fast, and she was dating Mingi who seemed like he was in on it.

If Tori did know, if Tori was in on all of it, it would hurt the most out of everything that's happened to you thus far.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” you said, looking at your father who carried three glasses back to the table. “Dropping out of the house seems ideal, not having to be around all of those girls who don’t want me there anyway.”

“Exactly,” Yeonjun cheered, a smile making its way onto his face. Sliding the glasses onto the table, one for each of you, he sat down and let out a groan as he did. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say all week, Aura.” Keeho grabbed his glass and sipped it, thanking your father with a wink, one that Yeonjun returned. 

“Yeah, well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Taking your second glass, you drink from it and screw your face up. It was stronger than the first. “Jesus, Dad, what’d you tell her to put in here?”

Yeonjun laughed, sitting backward like he was. “I asked for something that’ll make you feel better.”

“Haven doesn’t make drinks like this,” you said, coughing after another sip. “How much did you pay her?”

“Enough,” Yeonjun nodded once, then pointed his eyes at Keeho. “How’s life, Kee? You know, since I saw you last month?”

Laughing, Keeho sipped his drink. “A lot better now that I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Yeonjun’s lips parted in shock. “And this happened when?”

“Two months ago,” you said, looking at your dad who gaped back at you.

Keeho shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about it when you asked me about him last time.”

Yeonjun moved his chair beneath the table and rested his elbows on the wood, leaning toward your friend who sat across from him. “Well,” your father bobbed his head, “Tell me now.”

The two fell into a deep discussion quickly, Yeonjuns focus on him completely, hanging onto every word of every story Keeho was telling him. He had broken up with his boyfriend of two years, a boy who was holding him back from being a better version of himself. A boy who wouldn’t speak nicely to him or others, a boy who snuck about and would beat around the bush whenever Keeho asked him about anything. It was toxic, and you’re surprised Keeho dealt with him for so long, but he was free now.

Fifteen minutes later, all three drinks gone, they were finally on the break up story when the door to Haven opened and slammed shut. Two boys walked in, possibly around your age, one taller than the other. The tallest had a curly brown mop on his head, the other with longer, shaggier hair tucked beneath a baseball cap. His face was hidden by the shadows, but his body told you that regardless of what his features were he was good looking.

In a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, three silver necklaces hung over his chest, one of them a dog tag. His shoulders were wide, his arms rippling with muscle as he walked and said hello to some of the men at the bar. The boy beside him, tall and lanky, had eyes as big as the moon and a smile so welcoming you couldn’t tear your eyes from it. Their energy was captivating, walking into the place like they owned it, the short one’s hips swaying in his walk, a confidence oozing out of his being.

They took to the end of the bar where no one sat, both of them situating themselves on the wooden stools, ordering drinks from the bartender who gave them a friendly smile. They clearly came here often, they spoke to her like they knew her, and when she walked away, they spoke to one another like they were closer than friends, like they knew each other better than that. 

The taller one with the curls, he was familiar, that smile like one you’ve seen before, but couldn’t place from where.

It wasn’t until the shorter one took his hat off and pushed his hair back that it all made sense. Your heart skipped a beat. He was good looking, he was gorgeous. A jaw pointed and sharp was home to a charismatic smile living below the sweetest nose and the most beguiling eyes. A beautiful face. A face you and Tori had to zoom in on.

Chan.

Chan and his cousin, Minho, or so you believe. Tori had told you that.

They were closer than friends, they were family.

Mina’s family.

“Aura kinda convinced me that it was time,” Keeho said to your dad who nodded. “Even though I knew it, she gave me the confidence to finally let go of something I was holding onto that was hurting me.” He looked at you with a smile. “Right?”

Nodding, not taking your eyes off of Chan, you rubbed Keeho’s arms and stood up. “Yeah, I’m proud of you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get another drink.”

“Can you get me a-”

You didn’t hear the rest of your fathers question, your feet were on a mission, they had a mind of their own. Bounding for the bar, keeping yourself as calm as possible, though your blood threatened to boil over, you perched yourself on the corner closest to Chan and Minho, the two speaking to one another like they were keeping a secret. The bartender returned, a girl with a name tag that read Hope. Her hair was hanging at her shoulders, naturally curly blonde hair that turned different colors when she walked beneath the different neon colored lights. Your father told you all about this place, the history, apparently it’s always looked the same.

A time capsule of sorts.

“What can I get you?” Hope asked after she brought drinks to the boys. “You’re with him, right?” Her nod toward your father made you smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Can I have whatever he got me before? Tasted like vodka, I think? I don’t even know what it was.”

Hope laughed. “Of course, give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” She took your glass and whisked herself down the bar, getting to work. Glancing up to the TV, the ballgame nearly over now, you took a deep breath and watched as it cut to the announcers talking about other teams and players. DK appeared on the screen, a photo of him from this past season on the pitcher's mound, his eyes pointed and focused on the batter in front of him. The words along the bottom read like a news story, that he was disappointed his team didn’t make it into the playoffs, but that he was getting much needed family time now, so it was worthwhile.

“Worthwhile,” you muttered, looking away.

So it seemed Isla really was with DK. A part of you longed to stay angry at Yeji for not sharing it with the house, and part of you still felt insanely guilty for not speaking up after Yeji had told you, and apparently only you, that she was leaving.

It didn’t make sense, much like everything else.

But, if Isla was safe, if Isla was happy… it was worthwhile.

“Hey,” a voice so cheerful called out, to you, you think. Glancing to your left, toward the boys where the voice came from, you find them both looking at you.

Jesus, they were prettier than any of the boys in ATZ.

“You go there?” Chan asked, looking at your crewneck. Following his gaze, rolling your eyes at the big Nasara letters across your chest, you shot him a solemn glare and scoffed.

“Unfortunately,” you said, and he started to smile, the corners of his lips perking up into something that would easily persuade you to your knees. It was lazy, yet so effective. “You?” Even though you knew the answer, you asked anyway.

Chan swallowed his smile and shook his head. “Nah, but my sister does,” he said. His eyes you’ve seen before, he wore them like Yeji wore hers, trying to pierce through your own, trying to see through you. Chan’s were less confronting though, he just seemed like he was trying to figure you out. “She’s in a sorority or something.” The boys sipped their beers and acted like they weren’t honed into you, glancing away when neither was speaking.

“ITZ?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, and Chan nodded.

Minho scrunched his nose. “My sister went through them,” he said, and Chan elbowed his bicep. “What?” he snickered, elbowing him back.

“You make it sound like a bad thing, bro,” Chan said, flickering his eyes to you. “You know it? ITZ?”

Settling your lips into a smile, one that made Chan look away for a second, you nodded. “I know of it.” Turning to Minho, you asked, “Why’s it so bad?”

The boy shrugged. “I dunno, forget I said anything,” he mumbled. “I didn’t go to college, so what do I know?”

“Probably plenty,” you said, gaining his attention back. Shocked, his eyes were wide as he looked at you. “People make college out to be something that’s necessary, but I don't really think it is. If you wanna do it, you do it. If you don’t, who cares?”

Minho shared a snicker with Chan. “My mother,” he sneered, then dropped the smile when he turned back to you. “Excellent perspective for someone who’s able to go to Nasara.”

Chan elbowed his cousin again, this time tossing his hands out to the side. “Dude, my dad went to Nasara, what are you getting at?”

Minho simply smirked, then leaned toward you a bit. His eyes were captivating, galaxy filled. “How is it? ITZ?”

Raising a brow, you asked, “How’d you know I’m a part of them?”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “I do now.” Straightening out where you sat, Hope popped back around and brought you your drink. Giving her a small thank you, you peeked at Minho’s smug face and clenched your jaw. “How is it? A dream, I’m sure.”

Wrapping a hand around your cold glass, you found Chan studying you, every inch. “It’s a dream,” you muttered, taking the straw out of the cup, drinking straight from the glass. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Minho said.

Chan waved a hand, confused. “Okay, I don’t get it,” he said, making both of you look at him and his twisted brows. “Mina’s having a great time there, what am I missing? Do I need to be worried?” Your stomach flipped. “Last time I spoke to her, she was fine.”

Minho shrugged, sipping his beer, pointing his attention to the TV.

Chan looked to you for help. “I’m not really good at picking subtle shit up, so you’re gonna have to give it to me straight.”

Taking another gulp from your glass, you set it down with a bang and ran your tongue over your teeth. “Listen, Ch-” His name almost tumbled from your lips, right as you realized that he never told you his name. These boys had no idea who you were, and you were to act like you had no idea who they were. “Mina’s your sister?” He nodded, waiting with an unhuman like patience.

You had two options.

Give it to him straight, like he said, which would out his sister, or you could lie to him, and make it seem like ITZ was a dream, when in reality it was a nightmare. With another gulp of your glass, the liquor seemed to decide for you.

No more lies.

“Okay,” you sighed, Minho now watching you, too. “I kinda lied to you both, in a way. I know you. Mina’s my Vice President.” Chan didn’t move. Minho, though, held back a smile. “Last year, when she was a freshman, she was really quiet. Super sweet, but quiet.” Minho shot his cousin a look and received another elbow to the bicep. “Even when this year started, she was so… nice.”

“Now you’re lying,” Chan muttered, breaking his eyes away to sip his beer. “Mina’s not nice.” 

“Chan,” you said steadily, making him look at you with the surprise that you knew his name already. Minho’s smile grew. “No, she’s not. Mina’s not nice.”

“Here we go,” Minho whispered, taking his beer to his full, pink lips. Chan had frozen in place, and though it left you a little uncertain whether or not you should continue, not knowing what would happen, with knowing what you know about this boy…

You kept talking, and it wouldn’t stop.

The words kept coming, the information spewing faster and faster with each gulp of liquor. You left out details they didn’t need to know, details you told Keeho, but they got everything they needed to know. 

Everything Chan needed to know.

And, after many, many minutes of him barely blinking as you told him all about his darling little sister and how she’d been acting, what she’d been a part of, you took a long, deep breath, feeling lighter than ever.

Minho nodded once you had finished, the tiniest smirk gracing his lips, like you had reiterated a story he’d heard plenty of times prior to tonight. He uttered the quietest, “Sounds like Mina.”

But, it wasn’t until Chan’s lips parted, to intake a breath, that you finally felt any sort of pure, euphoric satisfaction. 

“Why would she lie about me?”

The last two weeks caught up to you, you could’ve broken down in tears, absolute joyful tears, but he spoke again, so you kept it together.

“You’re Aurora,” he said quietly, putting his own puzzle pieces together. “I’ve heard your name before. A few times actually. When she’d talk on the phone to her sorority girls, or whatever, and then when that boy would come over.” 

That boy. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a sheepish shrug.

“She hates you,” Chan said, filterless. 

Rolling your eyes while Minho laughed, you couldn’t help but crack one yourself. “Figures, she’s an accomplice in trying to ruin my life.”

“Aside from the boy thing, I can’t see why she’d try so hard to ruin…” His voice trailed off as he stared at you. “Aurora,” he said, quieter this time. Squishing his brows in the center of his forehead he glances behind you, lifting his chin to peek at where you had come from, back toward Keeho, and your father.

“What?” you questioned, following his line of sight to Keeho and Yeonjun, your dad glancing over at the same time, catching a glimpse of the boys, then quickly turning away. He leaned forward on the table, placing his chin in his hand, hiding part of his face.

“Holy shit,” Chan mumbled. Minho looked back and forth, then landed on you with an unreadable pout of his lips. “That’s your dad, isn’t it?” Gulping, electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Anytime someone brought up your dad, you had to prepare for the worst. 

“Yeah,” you said just above a whisper.

Chan tightened his jaw, then settled his gaze on you. “Do you… know who my parents are? I mean, Mina’s parents? I guess mine work too, but, hers make more sense, you’re dealing with her, but, I mean mine make more sense in this situation, ‘cause my dad kicked your dads ass, and-”

“What?” you gasped.

“Our parents know each other,” he said. “You’ve never heard of this before, have you?”

Sitting forward, leaning toward them, you shake your head wildly and laugh aloud. “Do I look I fucking know any of this?”

Minho averted his eyes to the bar. Chan stacked his arms on top of one another and rested them on the bar.

“I think, if I remember it right, your dad was a real jackass,” he said.

Making a face, you got a laugh out of Minho. “Tell me something I don’t know, Chan.” “My parents, Beomgyu and Faden, and his dad, Taehyun,” he paused, hoping a name would trigger something, but alas, you’ve never heard these names a day in your life. “They were all friends, your dad included. Yeonjun, right?” You answered with a meek nod. “Yeah, they were all really close, like through high school and all that, but one day when they were, like, twenty, your dad was an asshole to my mom, so they wrote him off.”

Taking a minute, processing what he’s told you, that you have more history than you think with these boys, with Mina, you rub your eyes and slide your hands down your cheeks with a groan. “So, she’s doing this to me because my dad was an asshole to your mom? What the hell did he do?”

Chan shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, I didn’t hear any details. I just know the vague version. Mina and our mom are pretty close though, you might be able to get it out of her.”

A harsh laugh came from your chest. “Yeah, okay,” you widened your eyes and shook your head. “That bitch won’t be hearing from me ever again.”

“Hey,” Chan lowered his brows. “That bitch is still my sister.”

With a breath, you asked, “You’re gonna tell her all this aren’t you? That I told you?”

“Probably,” he said immediately, and Minho laughed. “But, as much as she’s my sister, I stand by what I said, Mina’s not nice. And, since she had no problem using my disability for her own gain, I can tell you this, to help you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Minho whispered, the sneaky smile appearing on his lips again.

Chan raised his brows and shot his cousin a smirk. “Oh, I would.” He looked at you. “Plus, you’d find this out anyway if you looked for it yourself, but I could give you a headstart, Choi.” 

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Chan,” you said, which was the whole truth. Revenge was cute, but you don’t think you could stomach anymore drama.

“It won’t hurt her, but I know somebody who’s really good at putting her in her place. Our mom can get so wishy-washy with her, ‘cause we’re girls,” he said in a silly voice, pretending to flip his hair, getting you and Minho to laugh, “But, her dad? Soobin? As much as he is wrapped around her finger, yanno, ‘cause that’s his daughter? He doesn’t let her get away with shit.”

Her dad. The tall one with the glasses in that photo from her high school graduation. The one she said reminded her of Yunho.

“Chan, that’s wonderful and all,” you said and he smiled. “But, in no way am I just going to be able to walk into his home and accuse his daughter of being shitty.”

He shared a look with Minho, then said, “He holds a lecture at Nasara every Monday.”

A chill ran down your spine. “You’re lying.”

He shook his head and cracked a laugh. “I’m so serious,” he said. “Every Monday, sometime in the afternoon, on the law side of the school. He has a friend on the board or something, so either way, no matter which one you go to, you’ll get something done.”

Sliding off the stool, a newfound energy in your veins, you grabbed your almost empty glass and smiled. “Thanks.”

Chan shrugged. “She deserves it after what she did. To you and me. Damn.” Your smile went crooked, and he shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Sorry you had to hear all about my fucked up brain.” Minho gave him a gentle elbow to the bicep as if to tell him the opposite.

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, and he attempted to smile. “You don’t deserve that. Your own sister should be there to support you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, twisting so he was in line with the bar. He looked away from you and you took that and Minho’s hand planting on his shoulder as a sign to part ways. Your eyes fell to the dog tag around his neck, like they had when they walked in.

Curious, you said, “Your tag,” and he looked over at you, “What’s it for?”

Chan took it between his fingers and held it up. It was covered in writing you couldn’t read from where you stood. “My dad,” he said, reading what was engraved on it. “He got them when he hit ten years of sobriety. It came with two. He gave one to me and my brother.”

You smiled, something soft. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” Chan breathed, still studying the necklace. Dropping it to his chest, he looked at you. “He’s almost at twenty.” Then, he looked at his beer with only a few sips missing and pushed it away. Minho huffed a laugh and switched their cups, putting his empty one in front of Chan.

“You finished it,” he joked, then drank from his cousin's cup, focusing his eyes on the TV.

“Bye guys,” you said, and Minho gave you a wave with a couple fingers from the hand with the glass in it. 

Chan watched you start to walk away, then shouted your name to make you turn. “I’m sorry, too. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

He worked his face into a questionable smile. “How?”

Gesturing around the building, you shrugged. “I have my ways, Choi.”

october 5th ~ saturday ~ 12:15 a.m.

“He said, answer me, Rory, please, let me explain, I can explain,” Keeho read your messages out loud, laying on your bed with his long legs stretched out along your mattress. Using funny voices for each person, he had you laughing from the floor where you were digging through drawers looking for something to wear to bed since everything was in your drawers over at Nasara.

“I should just block him,” you said, and Keeho threw a fist in the air.

“I second that,” he said. “Let’s do that!”

Nearly breaking your neck to look at him, you threw out a hand. “No!”

The look he gave you made you giggle. “And, why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “I wanna see how much he begs.”

Keeho’s eyes widened as he flipped to his stomach on your baby blue comforter. “Aura, you take your men submissive.”

With a huff you turned back to the beige drawers you’ve had since birth. “Not in the slightest.” It was give and take for you, unless you were with Seonghwa apparently, and mother of god, you’re lucky he didn’t ruin you for life.

Your beaten up white wooden door creaked open and Yeonjun poked his head inside. He glanced from Keeho on your bed pushed in the corner, to you on the floor a few feet away from him. The ceiling fan spun on a low speed, making the yellow light from the old bulbs flash in a way that would keep you busy as a baby as your dad would say. 

“Yes?” you questioned, and he popped a smile on his face.

“You staying?” he asked Keeho.

“I think so,” he mumbled, looking up from your phone only once. “We’ve got a lot to work through here.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun said, making a face to signify his understanding, letting Keeho get back to your messages. Looking back at you he said, “No funny business in here.”

“Dad, it’s Keeho, he sleeps here all the time,” you deadpanned, and he laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said, stepping into the room for a moment. “Had to tease, I miss having you guys here.”

“I second that,” Keeho said, his tone flat, though you know he meant it with all of his being. Yeonjun glanced at him and laughed to himself. The boy didn’t even look up from your phone.

“Goodnight,” he said, then smiled at you. “I love you.”

A comfort washed over you. “I love you, too.” He went to pull the door shut, stepping out into the hall, but then you called him back. “Dad?”

“Yes, Aura,” he said, looking down at you.

Swallowing, suddenly feeling like your throat had closed and you wouldn’t be able to get the words out, you whispered, “Did you know those boys at the bar? Chan and Minho?” He was silent. Thinking. “Do you know who Beomgyu is?” A breath corrupted his lungs. “Taehyun?” Blinking a mile a minute, he averted his eyes to your carpeted floor. “Faden?”

It took him a second, but he managed to say, “Yes, I did. I knew them. Not the boys at the bar, but I assumed they… belonged to some of them, the names you said. They look just like them.” You wondered if it were true for you too, if you looked anything like your father. Or, your mother.

“Mina,” you said, and he looked at you, his eyes now wider than they normally would be. “She’s Faden’s daughter. Faden and Soobin’s daughter.” “Soobin,” he whispered. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“When’s the last time you saw any of them?”

He stuttered a bit before he said, “It’s been a really long time, Aura.” Things went quiet for a second, then he asked, “The boys tonight, who do they belong to?”

“Chan, the one with dark hair, he’s Beomgyu and Faden’s son. He’s a twin,” you said, and Yeonjun tipped his chin upward, his lips curling into some type of smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and shouldn’t know. “Minho, the other one, some guy Taehyun is his dad.”

Your father met your eyes with a fierceness. “Who’s his mom?” he asked, and when you shrugged he laughed aloud.

“Holy shit,” he sighed, taking a long breath after his laughter subsided. “Those motherfuckers.” Letting him mumble to himself, you gave him another goodnight as he circled around and went to pull your door shut. “Those crazy ass motherfuckers.”

“Aura,” Keeho said, wanting your attention. Pulling sweatpants from high school out of your drawer, you stood up and took two steps to your bed, dropping the pants on Keeho’s lap. There was little space to put them elsewhere. “Who is ‘ignore this jerk’?”

Shimmying out of your jeans, you breathe through a laugh and jump into the sweats you brought over. “Wooyoung, why?” Reaching up a hand to pull on the string hanging from the light on your ceiling, the room falls dark. Climbing over Keeho, wedging yourself between him and the wall you pop your chin on his chest to look at your phone with him. “Guess I should change his name now, huh?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘hi’,” Keeho said, then gave you a funny look. Snatching the phone from him you groaned and started typing back to him. “Who says hi anymore? Who does he think he is?”

“We’ve been talking, Kee, since Saturday night,” you mumbled and Keeho flipped to his side dramatically, facing you. Tucking his hands beneath his cheek on your pillows he exhaled heavily.

“Enlighten me,” he said.

“There’s nothing,” you said, shrugging with your hands, the light from your phone screen bouncing off his sharp features. “We just check in on each other. I’ve seen him in passing. Nothing more. He’s been living with his cousin in Delo, I think.”

[ignore this jerk]: hi

[you]: hi

[ignore this jerk]: how was your day

[you]: it was alright, had something interesting happen, how was yours

[ignore this jerk]: same here, had something interesting happen

[ignore this jerk]: you go first

[you]: it’s a lot, are you sure

[ignore this jerk]: …

The bubbles vanished as quickly as they’d popped up. Then, ‘Incoming Call: ignore this jerk’ was lighting up your phone screen. Keeho almost screeched.

“Answer it, answer it, answer it.” He said it about seventy more times.

“I’m in bed,” you sneered.

Keeho rolled his eyes, “Yeah, with me, answer it.“

“No! I will not do this to myself right now, I can’t handle anymore-“

Keeho took it upon himself to slide his finger over the green answer button, cutting you right off. Your heart lodged up into your throat as Wooyoung appeared on the screen, lit up by warm, dim light. He wasn’t looking when you appeared, his side profile on display. His nose on display. Tanned skin, dark hair in waves exposing his forehead, he wore a black cutoff tee and silver studs in his ears.

“Oh my god,” Keeho muttered out of sheer gay panic. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Wooyoung turned to his phone and gave you a small smile. 

“Who was that?” he asked, walking himself around whatever room he was in. Glaring at Keeho, you turned the phone to put your friend in the little box, and Wooyoung laughed. “Am I interrupting something?”

“God, no,” you said, and Keeho let out his own laugh. “This is Keeho, he lives down the street. We’ve known each other since we were eleven.” 

“That’s cool,” Wooyoung said, looking at the screen, finally finding a spot to settle. “Hi, Keeho.” Your friend uttered the smallest hi, and you wanted to lose your shit. Who says hi anymore? “So, you’re home, then?”

“I am,” you said. “I haven’t been in the house since Sunday.”

Wooyoung popped his brows. “What’s Tori have to say about that?”

“No idea,” you mumbled. “Keeho’s been reading through my messages I haven’t opened all week. We haven’t gotten to Tori’s yet.”

“I’m sure it’ll be crazy when you do,” Wooyoung pushed his lips to the side.

You didn’t even want to think about it. “What’s so interesting that happened to you today?” Changing the subject, Wooyoung didn’t seem to care. He glanced up and around the space he was in, and smiled.

“I, uh, got an apartment,” he said, smiling at you.

“Holy shit?” you gasped, sitting up, leaving Keeho behind on your pillows. Pushing your hair from your face, you twisted so you could place your back against the dark blue wall. “Where at? Delo?”

Wooyoung nodded, looking around the room. “Yeah,” he said, proud as ever. “It’s ten minutes from school, a few blocks from my cousin. He helped me find it, we’ve been looking for a day or so, and this place just fell into my lap. He says I got lucky.” The smile that couldn’t leave his lips was triggering your own.

“You got lucky,” you said. “I’m happy for you, that’s really great. You deserve it after what’s happened.”

“Thanks, Ro,” he said. “You should come see it. I kinda wanna talk to you anyways. Just you.” Shifting your gaze to Keeho, he placed a hand playfully beneath his chin and smirked.

“I think we definitely need to talk,” you said, looking at the screen, trying to ease the way your heart was beating. “Sort this mess out.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

It was quiet for a few seconds, you and Wooyoung just gazing at one another through the phone screen until Keeho tapped his foot to your thigh, pulling you from your thoughtless daydream.

“I, uh, I gathered some, um, interesting information tonight,” you said, and Wooyoung adjusted himself in his seat like he pulled himself out of the same thoughtless daze at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah?” he questioned, glancing away for a moment. “Like what?”

You told him what you found out through Chan. Really, you rambled, the buzz still evident in your body, and it was like he could tell with the way he giggled at some of the things you would say, or the words you would use. You spilled it all, and by the end of it all, he was leaning into the screen, his eyes unable to look elsewhere.

“Keeho, you were here for all of this?” Wooyoung asked.

Turning the phone to show your friend, he shot the phone a thumbs up and Wooyoung sighed. “Don’t believe me, Wooyo?” You turned the phone back to your face and found him surprised. “What?”

“You… Uh, I haven’t heard you say that in a long time, that’s all,” he said, his volume dropping astronomically. You couldn’t remember the last time you called him that, the nickname rolled off your tongue with such ease you didn’t even see it coming yourself. “So, what are we gonna do? We gonna go talk to this Soobin dude, or what?”

“Do it!” Keeho shouted, making you and Wooyoung laugh.

“Ro?” Wooyoung asked, one of his brows perking up.

Glancing between Keeho and your phone, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s do it.”

october 7th ~ monday ~ 8:03 a.m.

It happened like a movie, like the rest of your life had been apparently. One shoe on, you hopped on one foot toward the front door slipping the other on your foot, almost tripping and face planting onto the floor. He texted you that he was here, waiting outside in a car you’ve been in only a few times before when he’d driven you around for a date here or there. You weren’t sure why you were nervous, or why the feeling was so large within you.

It was Wooyoung. You’ve done this before. He wasn’t anything to you at the moment, if anything, he was a friend. Or, trying to be, you think.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you grabbed onto the doorknob to the front door and yanked it open, spotting him down by the curb in the blacked out BMW.  All four windows were tinted, you couldn’t see him in the driver's seat which only worsened the feeling in your gut. You felt like a teenager getting a ride from her high school crush, it was somewhat humiliating.

Even more so when your dad appeared around the corner by the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” he asked, leaning against the edge of the wall where the kitchen met the hallway to the bedrooms. Turning toward him, you smushed your lips together and let out a sigh.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “We’re going to go talk to Soobin today.”

Yeonjun curled his lip, pushing himself off the wall. Taking slow strides toward you, he folded his arms over his chest. “Enjoy him. Last I heard of him he’s a stuck up son of a bitch.”

You wanted to laugh, and you did a bit, but you frowned. “Dad, you don’t know him, don’t talk about him like that.”

Yeonjun furrowed his brows, looking you up and down. “His daughter is terrorizing my daughter.” He narrowed his eyes. “My very smart daughter who doesn’t let anybody treat her like this.”

With a breath, you said, “That’s why we’re going to talk to him.”

Darting his eyes to the glass door behind you, eyes gobbling up the BMW, Yeonjun looked back at you. “That’s Wooyoung? The guy who started this entire thing?”

“He didn’t start it,” you said. “Well, I mean, he kinda did, but he didn’t mean to. Yunho, remember?”

Yeonjun twisted his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t keep track, Aura, what did I say about getting involved with the boys?”

Breathing through a laugh, you groaned soon after. “It’s over, all of it, I promise. No more boys.” Dropping his hands, he gave you a curious look, glanced to the car once more, then smirked.

“Sure,” he said. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you nodded. “We will.” Turning toward the door, you looked back over your shoulder at his smile. “Don’t get arrested again.”

“Aura!” he shouted while you laughed, following you out of the front door and onto the porch. “That was one time! You were ten!”

Walking down the lawn backwards, you held out your arms and grinned. “One time too many!”

Swatting your words away with his hand, he watched you as you spun around and yanked on the door handle, pulling the door open to the leather interior and a boy sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for you with a small smile. Looking past you, to your dad on the porch, Wooyoung held up a hand to wave, and thankfully, thankfully, Yeonjun gave him one back.

Saying your last goodbye, you pulled the door shut and sank down into your seat, feeling entirely out of place in the incredibly neat car. It smelled like cherries, and every crevice of the dash was sparkling. You knew the boy driving would look even better, you felt too nervous to even sneak a peek at him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked with a small laugh.

“Nothing,” you breathed. Your dad took himself back inside, leaving the two of you to go off on your endeavors. “I think I feel nervous to do this.”

Wooyoung settled his lips into a smile and faced the steering wheel, grasping the shifter with his right hand. “You’re allowed to be nervous. This stuff is wild.”

Pulling out of your neighborhood, one he’s definitely not used to though he wouldn’t show it, he took you out onto the main road and started for Nasara. From the southside of Tamoe to Delo, it took about an hour, and then once you were into Delo it took another half hour to get onto campus. Settling back in your seat, getting yourself comfortable, your lungs tighten in your chest at the realization that you were going to be stuck here with him for an hour and a half. The longest you’d have spent with him, sober, since last semester.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he looked over at you. “Ro, what’s up?”

Rubbing your hands over your thighs, you took a breath and shrugged, keeping your focus forward. “Nothing, just thinking about what I’m gonna tell him.”

Wooyoung curved his brows upward, focusing back on the road. When it got quiet, it was suffocating. He was here next to you. He drove an hour or so to your house, to pick you up, to bring you to school when your dad could’ve done it for you. The last time you’d seen him in person, maybe Thursday, in passing while walking to a business lecture where he told you he’d been passing you every Thursday since the semester started, you just never noticed. You’ve never had so much time to say so much, and it was overwhelming.

“Ro,” Wooyoung said again after a minute or so of silence aside from the radio.

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth and twisted in your seat, pulling your legs up onto the leather seat, fighting with the seatbelt in the process. Adjusting accordingly, frustratingly so, you tossed your hair backward once you were situated and groaned, finally looking at him and his amused little smile.

“Better?” he questioned with a subtle laugh.

Expressing your annoyance with an audible sigh, you clasped your hands together and placed them in your lap. “You want me to go off? I’ll go off.” With both hands, you shoved his shoulder and he gasped, grasping the wheel with both hands. “Fuck you. I cannot fucking believe that you’d do that to me. Do you know how embarrassing it was? Me and Tori walking into that bedroom to that?!” He shot you a confused look, bracing himself for impact again as he slowed at a red light.

“You and Yeji? After everything we shared all year, this is how you treat me? Sleeping with her? For what, Wooyoung, for what!” He hid his smile amidst your shouts, catching on quickly. Keeping quiet, he let you go off. “You piece of shit, you know everyone warned me, right? I should’ve fucking listened, that Jung Wooyoung doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body. I didn’t believe them, but guess who fucking does now?” 

Taking a breath, a laugh threatened to sneak through, and it almost did. It wasn’t until Wooyoung laughed first that yours boiled over and you lost it. Leaning against the seat, covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound of relief and looked up at him, baring his teeth, his laugh echoing within the tight space.

“How- How long have you been waiting to say that?” Catching his breath, he calmed himself the best he could as the traffic in front of him pulled away.

“Too long,” you said, shaking your head. “Months. Can you tell I had it rehearsed?” Wooyoung laughed again, loud, bobbing his head. “You really hurt me, yanno?”

He looked at you for as long as could while he drove, his smile wiping away in an instant. “I know,” he said. “And, I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry, I don’t even know what to do to fix it all, but I promise you I’m gonna try.”

Glancing at the road, then finally allowing yourself to take in his appearance, the boy dripping in black and silver, you solemnly smiled. “Last Saturday was a huge help.” 

He huffed, shaking his head. “You can’t forgive me that fast, Ro. It was all so shitty, who the fuck does something like that?”

“Somebody who’s also hurting,” you said just above a whisper, shutting him up. He pulled his lips between his teeth and attempted to hide his sigh, but it was heard. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

“Whoa,” he said, screwing his face up. “No, don’t say that, are you kidding?” He met your eyes, another red light. The power within him was staggering. “I had the best. You understand that?” The small shake of your head could’ve physically pained him. “God, I could kill them all,” he muttered, facing the road to move with the other cars. “Ro, don’t let them make you feel like that. You used to be so carefree, you couldn’t give two shits about what someone said about you.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Wooyoung glanced at you, his eyes pointed. “It’s you. That’s what made me fall for you in the first place, are you kidding? You’re so different from any of those girls in that house.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you said, and his laugh made you laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

Letting your eyes drag over his body, you said, “I don’t think I do. We never talked like this.”

“That’s the problem,” Wooyoung snapped a finger and let it fall onto the shifter. “We never talked like this, no one there does, we were doing what everyone else was doing, we were following a socially constructed system that does nothing for true connection.” Your silence made him look at you, and when he found your parted, surprised lips he smiled.

“You are smart,” you joked, and he shrugged, smug. “I knew you were smart, I hope you know that.”

“I do know,” he whispered, giving you a look.

“You sociology major, you,” you whispered back, smiling. He shared it with you for a second only.

“Ugh,” he groaned, looking at the road. “That’s also why I feel all the more shitty for doing what I did, because I knew what it would do to your brain, scientifically. And, I feel even worse for standing by, watching it happen. I could’ve ended it all so much faster, but I had faith that you’d figure it out, but it only got worse each time I saw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to laugh. “Yeah, I fell into Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung tried to laugh with you. “Shoulda stepped in then, that’s how you know it’s going downhill.” Reaching out a hand, you put it over his where he worked the shifter, changing gears as he drove through Soro now. His breath hitched in his chest at your touch. “Ro, I know I said something Saturday night, but you were drunk, and I don’t know how much of that night you fully processed.”

Dragging your thumb over his olive skin, you felt the corner of your lips prick up. “That I may have gotten over you, but you’re not over me?” He released a breath like he’d been holding it in since you sat down. “Wooyo,” you whispered, and he turned his chin quickly, his eyes full of hope. “I’m not over you.”

His hand beneath yours flipped over, his fingers lacing between yours as he took the slowest deep breath. The car came to a stop and he laid his head back on his seat, closing his eyes for a few seconds. 

“I feel so silly,” he whispered. Giggling, he opened his eyes to shoot you a glare. “Don’t laugh at me.” Holding up your hand he was holding, you smiled behind your hands and got him to laugh. “You did this to me, I have never felt this, ever.”

“Like a teenager?” you offered, and his eyes went wide.

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing his head back with a groan. “Since I first saw you, Ro. When we were at the recruitment dinner, three years ago. We were freshmen.” He moved your hands toward you, “You were a pretty freshman,” he moved your hands toward himself, “I was a horny freshman.” Your giggle made him smirk. “We were at ATZ, somehow, and the moment I saw you in the group I just… You know which way my brain went first.”

“Of course,” you whispered, dancing your thumb over his skin. “I can tell you I was thinking the same things.”

He gave you that wide eyed look. “You were a horny freshman, too?!”

You laughed together. “‘Course I was, Wooyo, we were eighteen years old and let loose in a house full of boys like yourself, what do you think we’d be thinking about?”

Thinking to himself, he shrugged. “I dunno, innocent things, I guess.”

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, grinning wide. “What Tori and Mingi did that night was far from innocent.” The mention of your best friend pulled at your heart.

“I know, I know,” Wooyoung brushed it off. “That entire year though, I couldn’t figure it out. Girls don’t make me nervous, they make me the opposite, actually.”

“We know,” you whispered, and he tried to wiggle his fingers out of yours, but you held him captive. 

“You,” he said through his teeth. “You scared me.” He glanced at you and cringed. “Still kinda do.” This time you did get your hand free, and you shoved him like you did that first time. “Stop! I’m on the road, Ro!” You both laughed. Taking your hands back to yourself, he placed his over the shifter and sighed. “Want me to pull over? Then you can beat me to your heart's content?”

“I wouldn’t ever do that,” you said, touching his hand again. “Keep talking.”

“It was easy to be your friend at first. You already knew Yunho and Seonghwa, so that made it easier to approach you, when you were already talking to them, or hanging around them. I had a buffer, I could bounce off of them.”

“And you bounced,” you scoffed, and a cocky look spread about his face. “Do you know how crazy you would act? Freshman year? Even into our sophomore year, until we were a thing?”

“It’s ‘cause I liked you,” he said, nodding. “I wanted to impress you, I guess. Wanted your attention.” 

“Well, it worked.”

“It did,” he said. “For a little bit.” Your lips formed a pout, one he took his fingers to to mess it up, to make it go away. “Stop,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know.”

“That’s the thing, Wooyoung,” you said. “How did I not know? How did I not see… any of it. You, him, anything?”

The car came to a stop and he faced you. His hand slipped over your cheek, his thumb dragging along your cheekbone. “Socially constructed system. You were wound up in the fun of it all, you weren’t really paying attention, and that’s okay. I, unfortunately, have been blessed with a very emotionally intelligent mother, so I can… see it all. I’m aware.”

Your throat tightened. Begging yourself not to cry, not now, you gulped it away and asked, “How the hell do you have the reputation that you do?”

Blinking, he studied your face. “People see what they want to see. Look at San,” you both giggled, “Worlds biggest slut, and he knows it, but what do people see? The, probably hundreds now, body count? Or, the big, adorable, ditzy baby that is San?” He was right.

“I see the slut,” you whispered, and he smirked. “But, I get it, I also see the ditzy baby.”

You both realized he was touching you at the same time. Intaking a breath, you froze, and so did he. His fingers, soft, gentle on your skin, came to a stop. The air around you caved in, everything about this moment becoming so increasingly overwhelming, and heavy, like there was only one thing to do to get rid of that awful itch beneath your skin whenever he looked at you. You knew he could feel it too, you could see it in the way he clenched his jaw. God, you could jump on him, and you wanted to, and you knew he wanted you to.

A car behind you honked, pulling you both from that, now one thought, daze. Jumping a mile, you both twisted forward, Wooyoung moving along with the traffic around you. It took a couple seconds, but you both started to laugh.

After a few minutes of regaining your composures, Wooyoung asked, “Do you still believe them?”

Turning your chin, you looked at him and raised a brow. “What?”

“That I’m a piece of shit who doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body,” he whispered. “You said you believed them, then, I mean. What about now?” He gave you that hopeful look. “Do you still believe them?”

Reaching a hand over to mess with a few of his waves, smiling at the way it affected him, you toyed with his hoop earrings and shook your head. “I don’t,” you whispered, and his smile warmed your heart. “I believe you, I think, for now. Which is scaring me, just ‘cause of all that’s happened. So, please?”

He tilted his head. “Please?”

“Please be telling the truth.”

Taking your hand in his, he pressed his lips to the back of yours before he started to drive, whispering over your skin, “I promise.”

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[babydollmarauders]

VEGAS, TOKYO… — JACK HUGHES (MEDIA MANAGEMENT: SUMMER EDITION)

notes: i’m aware that i haven’t finished the playoffs parts- i apologize- but i wanted to spit out a quick summer edition to remind y’all that this au exists!

y/ndevils00

liked by dawson1417, jackhughes, and 110,381 others

y/ndevils00 you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo… 🤠

tagged jackhughes and _alexturcotte

jackhughes babe…

y/ndevils00 what? we’ve been to vegas and tokyo this past month, just letting everyone know 😇

nicohischier why are you like this?

y/ndevils00 just the way i was born, i guess!

nicohischier is there any way to change it?

trevorzegras @/nicohischier there is not. trust me, i’ve tried

user74 y/n is the most unhinged WAG and i’m in love with her

user10 how is she unhinged with this post? i’m confused

user38 @/user10 her caption is a song “you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo, catch me on the d*ck tryna ride like a rodeo”

user10 @/user38 oH OKAY

dawson1417 GO BEST FRIEND (3) THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND (3)

y/ndevils00 you’re my only true supporter in this sea of fake fans 🤧🫶

dawson1417 i’ve got your back best friend!

john.marino97 you make me question things. like our friendship.

y/ndevils00 and how amazing it is?

john.marino97 among other things…. like why it exists

lhughes_06 I DIDNT NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS! NOBODY DOES!

y/ndevils00 oh smush, as if you don’t live with us…

lhughes_06 i’ve decided to move in with John next season

y/ndevils00 no <3

lhughes_06 well, i tried

trevorzegras thriving and diving!

y/ndevils00 🤿💦

jackhughes what do these even mean?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes idk, i’m just rolling with it. i just assume you guys never know what your own comments mean either

user27 y/n calling hockey guys out on their weird comments 😭 she’s so real

_quinnhughes have you been watching edits again?

y/ndevils00 i don’t have to answer to you

_quinnhughes so yes?

y/ndevils00 yeah 😔

jesperbratt miss you! hope you’re having fun!

y/ndevils00 i’m gonna die for you. it’s no longer an “i would”, it’s an “i will”.

jesperbratt i would like you alive when i get back, please!

y/ndevils00 if you insist 😔

jackhughes you know my mom has this app, right?

y/ndevils00 ellen said i should post these pics! she said you look handsome!

jackhughes you concern me

y/ndevils00 that’s my job as your work wife

jackhughes you know you have a real title of my girlfriend?

y/ndevils00 i like this one better. it has the word “wife” in it

jackhughes i give up

colecaufield i don’t get a feature but ALEX does? what kind of friendship is this?

y/ndevils00 i’m so sorry, teddy bear! i’ll do better next time 😔

colecaufield thank you, bubble!

_alexturcotte damn, i look hot

y/ndevils00 does nobody care about how EYE look on MY OWN post?!

_alexturcotte you look great, honey bun

y/ndevils00 THANK YOU! FINALLY!

jackhughes you in that dress 🤤

y/ndevils00 if i remember correctly, me in that dress didn’t last long 🤭

jackhughes what can i say? it looked better on the floor

trevorzegras GET A ROOM, NASTIES!

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras i’m gonna flush your zyn down the toilet

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter THREE.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, alcohol, sensory overload, mentions of smoking. || sfw. 2.6k words.

FOR ALL YOUR reservations about Gojo, you can’t deny that he is electric to watch.

He scores 11 in the first five minutes, lobbing two three-pointers and then moving up closer, shooting right over Manhattan's massive guards. He passes to Yuji without looking to get him a lay-up, and Kento is getting a good deal of shots in too. The energy in the stadium is infectious, and by the third quarter the Sorcerers are up 98-67. Yaga pulls the starters and lets Yuta and Toge have their moment in the spotlight.

They always play better when they’re on court together, somehow anticipating each other’s moves without any kind of verbal messaging. Toge hardly ever talks, and Yuta isn’t very loud himself; on the court, they’re more in their element than you’ve ever seen them. Their synchronicity in play is mesmerizing, and the Phantoms can’t keep up. Kinji Hakari goes in after a successful Phantoms free throw and prevents Manhattan from getting anything through for a solid eight minutes.

You can’t help yourself—you’re on the sideline with Ieiri and Nobara, cheering the team on even as you make notes. Fushiguro comes off the court drenched in sweat but looking pleased with himself, and Ieiri throws a Gatorade water bottle at Yuji that he proceeds to spray right in his own face before swiping it dry with his jersey.

“Come to join the fun, huh?” Gojo calls to you and the girls as he swaps out with Hakari.

Nobara grins. “Couldn’t stay away.” Gojo winks at you as he readjusts his black headband, ruffling his hair. You raise a brow at his usual brazenness, and he smirks, and everything suddenly feels normal between you.

It’s possible you’ve missed it, just a little.

You’re grinning so wide by the game’s end your cheeks hurt, and Nobara is having a field day with her footage as the rest of the team floods the court and the fans go wild. If you weren’t sure before, this settles it: you’re going to sweep Manhattan.

The NBA playoffs are structured in seven-game series, meaning the first team to win four games moves on in the bracket. The Sorcerers have home-court advantage for the first round as a higher seed than Manhattan, so Monday’s game will also be at home. Then it’s off to the Phantoms' turf for the next two games, and if the Sorcerers win all four, they’ll have a break before semifinals.

“With 121 to Manhattan's 79, it’s looking good for the Sorcerers in round one,” Panda says in your headset. You laugh and tug it down around your neck, shooting Nobara a grin as she corners Gojo for a sideline video. In the short time she’s been here, Nobara’s amassed quite the TikTok following for the team’s page, and most of it is probably fueled by the player interviews.

“Zero casualties,” Ieiri says as she comes up to stand beside you. “Thank the sweet lord.”

“Aren’t you an atheist?” you ask dryly.

Ieiri scoffs and waves her hand. “Agnostic. Irrelevant. Players hurt, zero. Work for me, none. Metaphorical lord, thanked.”

Yuji is hooting and hollering and jumping on Fushiguro’s back, and even Fushiguro can’t fight the slightest smile as he shoves Yuji off. Nobara pulls Yuji off to the side for a video, and then you realize you don’t see Gojo anywhere.

“Hey, Kugisaki,” you call, and she spins to face you with bright eyes. “Where’s Gojo?”

Her brows furrow as she glances at where she just came from. “He was just there. I don’t—huh.” She shrugs apologetically and you wave her off, a no worries, but for some reason something just feels off to you. Gojo’s usually the last one out of the gym, and especially after how well he played today, he should be milking all the attention from the fans. Grabbing your bag, you slip out of the gym and beeline down the hall toward the locker rooms.

You’re done with his weird behavior. You’re going to get to the bottom of it, now.

Turns out, you don’t have to go far. Rounding the corner, you find your six-foot-three nuisance fumbling with a pair of sunglasses, leaned up against the wall.

“Hey.”

He jumps and the sunglasses clatter to the floor, and you nearly startle in return—it’s not often you see Gojo surprised, or taken aback.

“Uh, hey,” he says. “Hey. Sorry, I’m just. I—well.”

“Are you okay?” You feel foolish asking, because clearly he’s not. You find he’s come to a stop just down the hall from your office, and you scoop up his sunglasses and grab his elbow and drag him down the hall.

“Sit,” you say, and something twists in your gut when he doesn’t argue, doesn’t joke, just sinks down into the chair across from your desk. You close the door behind you. “Okay. What’s wrong with you?”

It sounds harsh, but you don’t mean it that way. He’ll beat around the bush if you’re not direct. Might beat around the bush anyway.

“It’s stupid,” he whispers, head in his hands, tugging at his hair.

“I’m sure I’ve heard more stupid, coming from you.”

Your bluntness seems to ease whatever worries he has just a bit, and he says, softly, “Can you—can you turn off the lights?”

Your brain is moving at a thousand miles a minute. And you suddenly, abruptly, get it.

The sunglasses indoors. You seemed off today. Gojo, subdued, quiet, avoidant. I can cover for you. Bright lights. Loud stadiums. One of those days?

Sensory overload.

You’re kicking yourself, because this isn’t new to you. One of your college teammates would get it bad, especially when some huge game was coming up and she was sent spiraling. You and the team had a system for it—dark locker room, noise-canceling headphones.

It makes so much sense you nearly curse yourself out right here for not seeing it.

You flick off the lights, flip the blinds to block out the light from the hallway. Then you cross the room and yank Gojo’s headband right down over his eyes and ears. You don’t have your headphones, so this will have to do for now.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah, oh.”

And then the two of you sit in the dark, in the quiet. You sink into your desk chair, resisting the urge to bounce your knee, tap the desk, anything to break the silence. You try to ignore him, at first, and then you give up as your eyes adjust to the dark and you just… watch.

Watch as the shadows and shouts of the team passing in the hallway make Gojo’s hands tighten over his ears, his breath hitching, his head down. Watch as he shuts out the world that’s abruptly become too much.

Watch as slowly, his breathing steadies, the tension bleeds from his shoulders, the grip on his headband loosens, until his hands fall to his lap and he exhales, the end of some great ordeal.

He tugs the headband-turned-blindfold down around his neck and looks at you in the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not often you hear those words from Gojo’s mouth, and you don’t really know what to do with them, with this entire situation.

“How often?” you ask.

He shrugs. “It’s usually fine.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It’s—I don’t know. It was bad when I was a kid, but I figured it out. I controlled it. It just flares up sometimes, when I’m… stressed.”

You think about him sandwiched between Fushiguro and Yuji on the couch, groaning as Yaga shut down the conversation about San Diego. “Since the playoff bracket came out,” you say.

He looks at you, eyes piercing even in the dark. “I—yeah, I guess.”

“Fushiguro knows, right?”

“What?” His eyes widen and you know you’ve got him off guard, and then something panicked lurches in your chest; you weren’t meant to see those texts. But Gojo’s moved on already. “I mean. Yeah. Kento knows some—not everything. Uh, Shoko knows.”

Briefly, a stab of irritation, or something, flares in your chest. She didn’t tell you.

But then, why would she? She knows you can’t stand Gojo. And it wasn’t her secret to tell; you can’t fault her for that.

You want to push. You do. You want to ask how close he and Fushiguro really are, you want to ask about Geto, about the draft, the blacklisting, the fight. You want to ask what exactly about playoffs has the Satoru Gojo so riled up he can’t focus.

But Gojo suddenly stands, pushing back his chair, and tugs off his headband, twirling it around a finger. “Well, I won’t keep you in the dark, m’lady,” he says with a dramatic bow. You are, you think. You’re keeping me in the dark.

But the mask is back up and whatever vulnerability Gojo’s shown you by mistake is gone, like it was never there. And you realize it’s this that bothers you.

Because you know there’s more than the ungrateful, unbothered NBA star in there, somewhere. Ieiri wouldn’t tolerate him if there wasn’t. You’ve probably, on some level, always known he isn’t truly that shallow. It’s just that every time Gojo seems like he’s human, he retreats faster than you can interact with it, this side of him.

He won’t let you. And that pisses you off.

He grabs the sunglasses you set on your desk and shoves them on before crossing to your office door, letting a flood of fluorescent light in from the hall. It casts him as a silhouette, untouchable as he lingers in your doorframe. Unreachable.

“See you tomorrow, Alley Cat,” he says, like calling you by one of his stupid nicknames will erase whatever softness might’ve come over the room in the last few minutes. He flicks on your office light, and just before he disappears around the corner, you hear him whisper, “Thanks.”

The next day, Gojo’s back to his loudmouth self, and you’re about to shut yourself in a dark office just to escape him.

But at least you know now the reason for his lack of enthusiasm the last few days. And there’s a pair of headphones locked in the second drawer of your office desk.

Satoru Gojo is back and more annoying than ever, and some equilibrium has returned to your chaotic world.

—

It's April 17, and you’ve never been less worried about a game in your life.

Halfway through the Sorcerers absolutely whooping Manhattan's ass, Nobara pulls you aside and points subtly to someone in the stands. “Who is that?” she mutters.

As soon as you register him, you wish you hadn’t.

About halfway up the stands, a man in a stained wife-beater tank and unreasonably baggy jeans stands with a beer in hand, shouting animatedly as the game unfolds. You swear the only thing holding his pants up is the worn-to-hell brown belt with a studded buckle, and you’re not sure how much longer it’ll last. He’s got black gauges in both ears and several tattoos snaking out from beneath his shirt, but at least his hair is impeccably gelled and styled, like always. You know precisely who this is, and you’re torn between laughing and groaning.

“That,” you say flatly, turning to Nobara, “is Yuji’s uncle.”

Her mouth forms a small O as she looks from the man to Yuji, right as he dunks on a frustrated-looking Phantoms player.

“THAT’S MY NEPHEW!” Sukuna hollers, nearly sloshing his beer over the edge of his cup as he throws his hands into the air. Yuji goes beet-red and runs back up the court, head ducked.

Sukuna probably means well. He shows up to Yuji’s games when it matters and he cheers, insanely loudly. You know for a fact he has a slightly-cleaner-than-the-other-shirts shirt for occasions like this one.

But he also has quite the mouth on him, and a temper, and no real sense of boundaries.

Then the ref calls a blocking foul on Yuji.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Sukuna waves his arms and this time definitely splashes beer onto his shirt, but doesn’t seem to notice. He’s screaming like the ref has personally wronged him, and the people around him are either shrinking away with wide eyes or puling out phones with cameras ready. “YOU THINK THAT WAS A FUCKIN’ FOUL? I’LL SHOW YOU FREAKS A GODDAMN FUCKING FOUL—”

“He’s… done this before, then?” Nobara asks uncertainly, and you nod.

“Many times.” You give it another minute tops before security escorts him out.

To be fair, you don’t agree with the call either. Blocking, your ass. Yuji just almost tripped over his own laces.

Nobara tries and fails to stifle a laugh as Yuji drags his palms down his face in exasperation. Cameras are pointed at both him and his uncle. You imagine Nobara will have a lot of mentions to go through later. “And they still let him into these?”

You shrug. “He’s family, and he always starts out sober enough.” To be honest, you’ve always thought Sukuna is kind of funny. He embarrasses Yuji to no end, and he’s loud and disruptive, but the fact that he shows up with his weird perception of put-together and the persistence of his presence is at least entertaining.

Across the court, Megumi’s laughing at Yuji’s bright red face.

Security is dragging Sukuna up the stands by both arms moments later, both of the guards looking incredibly fed up and resigned to their fate of dealing with a drunk, angry uncle for the remainder of the game.

“We still love you, Itadori!” a girl screams from the front row, and Yuji blushes and throws a peace sign her way.

“I love you too!” he shouts, and you swear the girl almost passes out. Megumi snorts and claps Yuji on the back as they move for a Phantoms free throw.

They make it, and you mutter a string of curse words under your breath.

“Okay, Uncle Itadori,” Nobara teases, and you elbow her and laugh. She glances down at her tablet and sighs. “They’ve already made edits. Of Yuji being embarrassed and his uncle yelling. They’re quick with it.”

She tilts her screen toward you, and you see a TikTok captioned YOU SHOW THOSE FREAKS A FUCKING FOUL UNCLE ITADORI LET’S GO.

The free throw doesn’t matter, not really. Yaga puts Junpei in for Kento, and because the Yoshino kid is pretty new and also weirdly short for the NBA—especially as a shooting guard—it might as well be a blatant nice try, but you don't stand a chance to the Phantoms.

You watch as Junpei gets the ball to Gojo and he proceeds to dunk, making the leap look like absolutely nothing. The crowd is going insane, and you almost feel bad for the Phantoms fans who traveled here to watch their own demise.

Almost.

“And that’d be Yuji Itadori’s uncle getting escorted by security once again,” Panda says in your ear. “Gotta hand it to him, he’s persistent.”

“Understatement of the year,” Zenin replies. “Oh, and there goes Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo with the dunk! And we’re looking at another forty-point deficit at the end of the third quarter. If the Phantoms can come back from this, color me impressed.”

The buzzer signals the end of the third, and you stand back as the team meets on the sideline. Gojo catches your eye over Fushiguro’s head and grins.

Ieiri’s shoving water bottles at everyone while Yaga and Kusakabe tell them not to get complacent. “We might be kicking ass now, but next game they’ll be on their home turf. You get a handle on their habits now and you don’t let go until the series is over, you hear me?” Yaga shouts.

The team choruses an agreement of yessirs and hell yeahs, and then the fourth quarter is in full swing. Ieiri appears beside you and yawns.

“How many hours?” You know she can hardly ever sleep, but the bags under her eyes are more pronounced than normal.

She shrugs. “I dunno. Three? Maybe? Tell me we’re rooming in New York so we can smoke out the window and talk shit.”

You grin. “Per usual.”

Nobara will be in a room on the same level with one of the assistants, and you’ve paired the guys off the usual way. Gojo and Nanami, Yuji and Megumi, Yuta and Toge. You don’t care if they stick to it, but the names are at least there for the sake of record-keeping. And the team doesn’t typically drift from these arrangements, anyway.

One of the Phantoms’ bigger players seems to have it out for Megumi, and he’s getting more brazen as the score deficit gets higher. Megumi leaps over the player’s outstretched leg and throws his arms up at the ref, and thankfully the ref agrees and fouls him.

“Not slick,” Ieiri mutters, and you nod. Some of the most blatant tripping you’ve seen in years in the NBA.

Megumi takes the free throws and nails both, seemingly unfazed by his own success as the ball goes back into play. Yuji, however, is having a field day and grinning like an idiot.

“That’s our boy!” Gojo shouts, and you don’t have to look to know Fushiguro’s rolling his eyes. The enthusiasm warms your skin, blood humming as the clock counts down. In three days, you’ll all be in New York.

With under a minute left, they’re just having fun now. Itadori makes some obscure hand motion at Gojo and then lobs the ball high to the left of the hoop, and Gojo leaps to dunk. You’re very familiar with that move. It’s always been your favorite.

“A second win for the Sorcerers!” Zenin yells as the clock hits zero, and the guys hoot and holler and gather in the center of the court. “You know what that means, folks. Manhattan's really gonna have to step up their game at home Thursday if they want a chance at advancing…”

“We love you, Satoru!” a group of three girls shout from somewhere in the stands, and Gojo locates them immediately, winking and making a heart with his hands, sending them swooning. Dumbass, you think.

And then he turns back to his team, and somehow winds up looking right at you. Alley-oop, he mouths, and you roll your eyes and wave him off.

You’re pretty sure his smile gets even bigger.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo

[paladin--strait]

Congratulations on 100 followers! Can you do prompt 3 and 4 with Timo Meier please?

crying in his arms + him crying in your arms

-

when the final buzzer rang out across the arena, the boys shook hands with the opposing team, waving at the disappointed, sad, and frustrated fans and then skating off the ice with their heads hung low. the devils final chance of making playoffs was over.

i shake my head, the boys played well, just not well enough to beat the other team in overtime. i sigh, timo is gonna be so upset with himself. he missed a lot of chances to score tonight. either he didn't take the chance or the goalie prevented the puck from making it into the net.

my steps ring out in my head, even over the loud chatter of the upset devils fans and the happy fans of the other team. i make my way to the locker room, leaving the rest of the wags behind me, attempting to catch up.

i could care less about them, timo is my only priority right now. my foot taps against the tiled floor while we wait for the reporters to make their way out of the locker room. after they were all gone, the wags were let in or the players met them in the hallway.

i wait for timo to come out, he is always one of the first ones to leave. i give sad smiles and hugs to some of the guys, especially the younger ones. they take the losses really hard since they put all the pressure on themselves. sometimes they choke mid-game, but that's okay since everyone has done it and sometimes it's okay to put pressure on yourself.

eventually, all the boys have filed out of the locker room, leaving me standing out there alone. i finally decide to go into the locker room and check on timo. i clear my throat before i turn the doorknob. when the door creaks open, i notice how dark it is in there. all the lights are off, except the led lights that show off the logo that rests on the ceiling.

"timo? are you in here?" i say, looking around, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness. i hear a sniff to my right and my head snaps in that direction. "timo? is that you?" i walk towards the body that's shielded by darkness.

the closer i get, the clearer it is to see who is sitting on the bench. my heart breaks at the sight of timo, elbows resting on his knees with his face in his hands. "oh baby..." i can hear my voice tremble, my eyes welling with tears.

i kneel down, placing my hands on his skates. i notice that he hasn't changed, every single piece of hockey gear still on his body. i reach over and begin to pull off the clear tape, before a hand touches mine. "don't." i look up at timo, who is looking down at me with red eyes. "i don't want it to be over yet..."

my lip wobbles and i stand up, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, honey. we can stay as long as you need to." i rake my fingers through his short hair, "i don't mind at all."

i feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling my body closer to his. "i could have done more. made more shots...maybe with a miracle one would have gone in or something..." timo rants off about all the things he could've done, and i just sit and listen while he talks.

i sniffle when he stops his words to try and choke back a sob. "hey...you did what you thought was best in the moment. i'm sure all the boys have regrets, too. you can make up for these things during the next season." i pull back, cupping his wet face in my hands. "i can help you practice during the off season."

timo smiles down at me, "thank you, baby. and i'm sorry..." he says, eyes moving down to his lap.

"sorry for what?" i ask, my head tilting to the side in confusion.

"sorry for letting you down." he says. locking eyes with mine. the sight of his trembling body and his eyes that are brimming with tears makes the tears i've been holding back run down my face.

"baby...you never ever let me down. i'll always be proud of you." i say, wiping my face. "even if you did let me down, i'd still be here for you, supporting you through everything."

he smiles and pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me, and putting his face in my shoulder. he mumbles some kind of thank you and sniffs. i rub his back with my hand, his hockey gear getting in the way slightly.

when he pulls back a few minutes later, he smiles at me softly and presses a soft kiss to my lips. he then removes me from his lap and begins taking off his gear. while he pulls everything off, i look around at the locker room. the usually full cubbies are partially cleaned out of the players personal belongings.

the sight makes me sad, the ending of the devils hockey season once again makes my heart feel heavy. i sigh, walking up to jack hughes' locker. i look around at his things, my lips pursed into a line. i think about all the things he went to this season. people were so disappointed in him just because he made a few mistakes. but, all players make mistakes. because of his rising popularity and his reputation he had to uphold, the mistakes disappointed fans and reporters.

i'm pulled out of my deep thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. i snap my head around and see timo. "ready?" he asks, his accent suddenly very evident, something that usually happens right after he cries or is upset.

i smile at him and nod, "ready to go? yes. ready for the season to end? no." i explain, leaning my head on his shoulder blade, looking around at the locker room full of gear and items that belong to players one last time before locker clean out day. i sniffle once more, the thought of the season ending is heavy on my shoulders and i can't even imagine how the players feel right now.

i feel timo's hand on my shoulder, pulling me into him so he can kiss the top of my head. after the quick kiss, he leans his head on mine and lets out a deep breath, looking around with me. "even though i know i'm coming back, it still hurts to leave." i nod my head in agreement.

"it'll be back before we know it." i wipe my eyes and look back up at him with a smile. "i promise."

[morganbritton132]

would steve ever insist that eddie comes to basketball games with him just so they have an excuse to get those good seats right at the court that famous people and celebrities usually get?

Eddie is not Steve’s go-to person if he wants basketball tickets.

He goes to Lucas because every doctor knows a doctor that knows someone with season tickets they never use. And also, Steve kinda wants to go to the game with someone who, you know, will actually enjoy being there.

Eddie’s undying hatred of all things sports is, well…undying.

But Steve’s been a Pacers’ fan since the first time his dad shoved a basketball in his hands and taught him how to shoot. He has watched them lose in the playoffs every year that they make it to it, but he’s convinced. 2014 was going to be different.

He just can’t get tickets. He spent all day trying to buy them online and failed, and all the resale tickets are for seats that suck or way over his paygrade. Him and Eddie pay for their own hobbies out of their separate bank accounts, and Steve can’t afford the absolutely ridiculous price that’s being asked so…

“Please?” Steve asked, big puppy eyes and adorable little pout. He knew what he was doing and so did Eddie. “Pretty please? I never ask you for anything, Ed…Okay, fine, except for all the stuff I ask you for, but this is different. It’s a small price to pay to see my team win.”

“Your team that has literally never won in the history of all time?”

“How many championships does Leg-less the loser elf have?” Steve asked.

“…It’s Legolas,” Eddie said. “And he was a part of the fellowship that kinda saved the world.”

“So was I,” Steve pointed out. “And I deserve this.”

Steve didn’t ask for courtside seats. He didn’t ask to be sat among the rich and famous. Hell, he didn’t even ask Eddie to go with him. He just wanted to see if Eddie had a connection that could get him a ticket for a seat that wasn’t in the nosebleeds.

Steve doesn’t really believe that the tickets Eddie showed him are real until they are sitting in their seats – their seats that are courtside and five feet away from Paul George warming up. Steve is so excited to be there that he pretty much misses Eddie shaking someone’s hand right in front of him until he’s nudged in the shoulder, “Babe, you know, Sandy, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says absently, sparing a glance in the direction Eddie was gesturing before looking back out at the court. It takes him a second for his brain to register who he was just looking at and then, “Holy shit, you’re Sandra Bullock.”

She is just as beautiful and as nice as Steve has always thought she was, and she’s amused by him which makes Steve blush. She holds out her hand to him, “And you are…”

“I’m…” Steve trails off, only picking back up his train of thought when Eddie laughs loudly beside him. “Steve. I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington. Eddie’s – I’m – we’re together, by law.”

“We’re married,” Eddie grinned, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulder, and wiggling his wedding ring at her. “Still working on how to tell people, obviously.”

She congratulates them and talks to them a bit about the game (bring Steve out of his starstruck stupor), and even buys them champagne as a late little wedding gift. It’s a blast.

Eddie spends half the game flinching every time the ball bounces a little too close or a player nearly ends up in their lap, but Steve is loving all of it. The other half of the time, Eddie is having Steve explain what’s going on and who the players are, or he’s talking to the guy next to him.

It’s some square jawed model type that Steve doesn’t recognize and also, doesn’t like. He’s a little too friendly with his husband, especially when he curled a piece of Eddie’s hair around his finger. When the two of them end up on the kiss cam together, Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to register it before Steve pulls him nearly out of the camera frame and kisses him.

Later, fans will make jokes about the pictures of that night because it’s very clear that Steve and Eddie switched seats.