#so I guess I’m off that until the contract is signed

[bigtreefest]

A Celebration Just For Us

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You want to celebrate Steve’s actual birthday, none of that 4th of July bs

Word count: 920

Content/warnings: essentially straight-up fluff, kissing, lotsa happy smiles, friend Bucky, time switching between past and present

A/N: This is thanks to the discussion of Steve’s actual birthday from @thezombieprostitute and @peyton-warren. I just love the thought of him having to keep it a secret because of a contract he signed a lifetime ago, only letting his closest family and friends in on it.

I’d love to hear what you think. More than happy to gush with you in response to comments, reblogs, or asks💗 thank you for reading

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

The lights were off and there were guards around the perimeter, ready to relocate any possible onlookers or overly curious paparazzi. Surely the abundance of cars parked outside the complex could’ve drawn attention, but no more than any other gathering, you were hoping. The curtains were drawn shut, tight as can be so no light could make it through, although there wasn’t much besides the flickering flames that lit up your face.

You were crouched over in the corner of the kitchen counter in your small apartment, further cozied by the dozen or so people who crammed into the small space, all here to celebrate your wonderful boyfriend, Steve Rogers as you used your lighter in a frenzy so the first candle wouldn’t melt before you finally reached the last one.

Once you first found out about it, you couldn’t help but bust out into laughter. Steve did his best to keep a straight face, telling you the story as you were leaning against him on the small couch in your apartment a few months after the two of you started dating.

“Steve, why? Just…why? Why did you agree, why did they make you do it in the first place?”

Steve let out a chuckle and threw his hands up in a shrug as he continued his explanation.

“It was in the contract! I just wanted to serve my country. I guess they thought it would drum up more patriotism? I had no problem faking it until the war was over, but I had no idea I’d be around this long. There’s no end to it. I’ve just gotta hide my real birthday from the public forever, however long that ends up being.”

You snuggled into his chest and giggled.

“Yeah, you have been around for awhile. But I’m so happy it led you here. Now you just get to have two celebrations. One that’s small and special, private, shared with friends, and the other that you share with the people.”

Steve smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and squeezed around your waist, pulling you closer as you shuffled back into him.

“I’m gonna try and let it slide that you called me old because I love you, and I love the idea of my day being just for us.”

Bucky had come over earlier in the day to help you set up for the small party you were surprising Steve with. Tony and Nat had taken him out for a day in the city doing who knows what, but it gave the two of you plenty of time to decorate and prepare.

Just before guests started arriving, you were putting candles on the cake, only up to seventy-five.

“Buck, how the heck am I supposed to fit any more candles on this cake? I’m not even three-quarters of the way finished and I’m running out of room!”

Bucky looked over at you from his spot on the ladder where he was hanging streamers and smiled when he saw the cake. He was happy his friend had found someone amazing. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get along with you almost as well as Steve. He’d become a good friend over the year or so you’d been dating.

“Um…put the candles closer together? It’s definitely gonna mess up that frosting you worked so hard on, but I guess that’s the cost of celebrating old men like us.”

You smiled and shrugged as you continued on. “Yeah, that’s what it’s looking like it’s gonna be. You think he’ll be okay with that?”

Bucky nodded. “More than okay. He’ll love it.”

The combined flame from the hundred or so candles smushed side-by-side was hot on your smiling cheeks as you walked towards the grin being mirrored on Steve. Everyone around you was singing as you set the cake down in front of him on the counter, watching him finally take a deep breath and blow out the mound of wax that sat atop a cake specially baked in his favorite flavor. There was no red, white, and blue. No patriotism in sight. Just the pure celebration of a man who affected all of you as a person. An individual with an amazing, beautiful, selfless personality, separate from what everyone else in the world saw him as.

Steve wrapped an arm around your hip as smoke faintly rose from the extinguished candle lump and pulled you tight to his side. Your hand went to his hair, idly stroking through it as the friends surrounding you cheered.

“Wish for anything good, Stevie?”

He titled his head up to look at you, beaming with love and satisfaction.

“I know I’ll get made fun of for saying I have everything I could ever want right here, so yes. But I will also say, it’s not that far off.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him. He always knew just what to say. You leaned down to give him a peck before you heard a groan from behind you. It was Tony.

“Okay, love birds. We get it. Happy secret birthday, Rogers. Now hurry up and get your thousand candles outta here. It’s time for cake!”

You helped Steve to pull the candles off the cake, holding one out here and there for him to lick the frosting off. He hummed at the flavor, happy you knew him so well and that he knew there were many more special celebrations, just like this, to come.

Bonus A/N: hehehe, happy birthday Steve. Let the man be happy in the modern day. Cake actually sounds so good rn

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles

[babydollmarauders]

COMFORT — LUKE HUGHES

summary: in which Luke’s girlfriend, y/n (dolly), finds out her comfort person and close friend, Ryan Graves, is going to Pittsburgh

luke’s gf au!

my bottom lip quivers, tears immediately welling in my eyes as the realization sets in.

“w-what?” my voice trembles, the phone shaking in my grip, the unshed tears making the facetime appear blurry.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i really am.” Ryan tells me solemnly, “but this is what’s right for me and my career right now. you understand that, right?”

“mhm.” i hum, blinking past the tears and nodding my head, “no— yeah, i understand. i get it.”

Ryan heaves out a sigh, his eyes soft as he begins speaking again.

“i really enjoyed spending time with you and i’m still so honored that you warmed up to me the way that you did. and this doesn’t mean our friendship is over! you’re still more than welcome to call me when you need someone to talk to, and we’ll see each other when the Penguins and Devils play each other!”

i nod again at his words, trying my hardest to let them relieve my sadness and bring joy to me, but it all still hurts a bit too much for me to see the bright side just yet.

“i just wanted you to hear it directly from me first, Dolly.” he explains, “i don’t want you finding out when the rest of the public finds out. you deserved to be be told beforehand.”

“i’m gonna miss you.” my words are choked, spoken between sniffles, and i quickly rub at my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie.

“i’m gonna miss you too.” he frowns, “and you better tell Bahl that he needs to step up and become your club bodyguard now! i’d say Dougie but…”

i let out a huff of laughter before i finish the sentence with him, “he looks too nice.”

Ryan grins at my slight smile.

“exactly.” he beams. “look, i gotta go. i gotta go in and sign the contract now. but, i’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“okay.” i nod, bidding him a goodbye before he hangs up.

left in the silence, my heart aches.

i didn’t really think of the possibility of Ryan leaving the Devils.

i guess in my head, i always thought of him as a Devil. i never thought about the chance of him becoming anything else.

i crawl up on Luke and i’s bed, burrowing myself in a mountain of blankets and pillows; curling up on my side and just staring ahead at the wall.

Ryan was, dare i say, the person on the team that i was closest to beside my boyfriend and his brother.

ever since we met, early in the season when i had visited Jack, and i had felt the comforting energy that he gave off, he looked out for me. he stuck by my side when the team went out to bars and clubs; warding off any highly unwanted male attention, glowering at any sketchy guys that dared to come near me.

it was never unusual to find him in Luke, Jack, and i’s living room, allowing me to paint his fingernails black as i talked his ear off about how my classes were dragging me down or telling him about the new true crime case i had heard of on my podcasts.

he was my platonic person. and now he’s gonna be gone. signing with the Pittsburgh Penguins at this very moment.

i was lost within my own head. the room eerily quiet, making it hard to miss the creak of the bedroom door.

i turn over in the bed, finding my boyfriend in the doorway, staring back at me with pity filled eyes.

“Ryan texted me.” it was in that moment that my reserve vanished. my walls broke down and my tears came pouring out, unable to be kept in any longer.

“Dolly, i’m sorry.” Luke crawls into the bed, pulling me into his chest. his hand holds the back of my head, the other rubbing circles on my back. “let it out, baby. i’m here for you. i’m right here.”

my tears soak into his black t-shirt, making it damp, but he doesn’t seem to care, only pulling me tighter to him.

i lose track of how long we lay there, Luke allowing me to cry into his chest until i’ve run out of tears.

“do you wanna talk about it, baby?” i shake my head against him, not quite ready to discuss my friend leaving. “okay. that’s okay, you don’t have to talk until your ready.”

i let out a whine, burying my head further up and into his neck.

the door creaks open once more, and i peek an eye open, retreating from my boyfriend just slightly to see his middle brothers head pop into the room. at the sight before him, Jack winces, his gaze softening.

“i just saw the news. i wanted to check on Dolly.” he whispers, his words aimed at his younger brother, as i’ve already moved back into my position in the crook of Luke’s neck.

“she’s not taking it very well.” Luke whisper’s back, “which is completely valid and i wouldn’t expect this to be any easier.”

those words are spoken into my hair, directed at me; reassuring me that my emotions are not dramatic, but rather understood and logical.

the door shuts, footsteps getting closer before i feel my side of the bed dip, a hand coming up to rub back while Luke’s hand stops to hold my hip.

“i’m really sorry, Dolly.” Jack’s voice comes from behind me. “you still have me, and Luke, and Dawson, John, Nico, Dougie, Bratter, i can keep going.

“we’re here and we’re not going anywhere. Ryan had to take a different path, and i’m really sorry about that, but i know he’s still there for you to call if you need him, right?”

i nod my head, my nose brushing against Luke’s neck.

“exactly. he’s not gone completely. just, not in Jersey anymore. and that’s what’s best for him and his career.”

i let Jack’s words sink in. pulling away from my boyfriend, i press a kiss to his cheek, him giving me a soft smile in return, before i turn and hug Jack; thanking him for his comfort.

i have my other best friends. it’s gonna be okay.

[thetravelingmaster]

Short Story: Job Interview

One sided conversation point of view - Powers

Model : Mikayla Demaiter

Hello there...

If I'm not mistaken, you're the man that hired us for this party, right?

...

Yeah I thought so!

I'm sorry for springing this on you while the party's still going, but I was talking to one of the other girls hired to huh... Beautify this party...

And huh... Apparently, you host a LOT of parties all year round and if I heard correctly, you are looking to hire a few permanent girls to make sure your parties are always... Beautiful. 

*Winks*

Well if that's true, I'd like to throw my name in the ring, so to speak. I'd LOVE to contract with you for a year of fun parties!

...

Right! Not a problem! But huh… How do I 'test my compatibility', exactly? I'm pretty willing to try anything to secure such a fun job!

...

Just look into your eyes? Huh... Sure... Ok...

But why would...

Oh woooowwww....

You're... Eyes...

Are so...

B... Beauti...fu...llll....

Are… Are th…ey… Sp…a…r…k…l…i…n…g…

...

*Blinks rapidly*

Woah... That felt so weird...

...

No no!!! A good weird I assure you!

Looking into your eyes made me feel all... Warm... You know?

*Steps off the bench and steps closer*

HHmmm... Anyway...

*Casually unties the knot holding her top*

So... Was that the compatibility thing? Did I pass?

*Removes top*

...

Did I notice what?

*Looks down at her topless chest*

Oh wow! I didn't even realize I took it off!

*Looks back up with a smile*

...

*Pushes her chest out proudly, giggling*

Thank you, kind sir!

I’m rather proud of them too, after all, they do get me plenty of jobs in the business.

Although...

*Looks back down at her chest*

Part of me can't help but feel this is pretty strange…

Not that I’m ashamed of my tits or anything, but I usually don’t show them off so… Openly…

Especially to a potential employer!

…

*Looks back up*

What do you mean I should be happy?

Oh! Do you mean to say that it means I’m compatible?

…

That’s awesome!

*Looks back down at her chest, frowning*

Wait…

Like... What... Huh... Exactly… Am I compatible for?

...

Nothing I need to worry about huh?

Yeah... I guess you are right... The important thing I need to focus on is that I AM compatible and that means I'm eligible for the job, right?

It won’t bother me until later because nothing else really matters right now!

*Smiles seductively*

Like… Now that we know I'm eligible...

Is there anything else you need to check before you consider hiring me?

...

Really? Huh...

Anna didn't mention the job required me to live in your home...

Do you really host THAT many parties?

...

Oh I see... Yeah that tracks... I mean... If most of your parties are last minute affairs... Like... It WOULD be easier to have your hired pretty girls close by to make sure your reputation for having ‘beautiful�� parties remains unsullied...

HHmmm...

Honestly… That's not really the type of gig I was looking for...

...

You want me to look into your eyes again?

Of course! I always want to look into your eyes!

They're so nice to look at...

So... Ca...pt...i...va...t...i...n...g...

...

*Blinks rapidly*

HHmm... That felt super nice...

I'm sorry... I got distracted there... What were we saying?

*Unconsciously pulls down her bottom outfit and panties*

...

Oh that's right!

No no... It makes perfect sense to want your hired girls to live with you. And like... I'd be an idiot not to see the benefits of being lodged while I serve out my contract! Cuts down on my expenses you know?

In fact... I just remembered that I was sort of looking for a job with such awesome benefits so yeah... If you hire me, I'm more than willing to move in while I work for you!

Although...

If I like... Live here... Does that mean that I'm expected to work like... ALL the time?

...

Most of the time huh?

Seems like a lot to sign up for... I mean... Don't get me wrong... Like... The job’s SUPER alluring and all... But it sounds like I won't have that much free time...

I mean... I get that I'd be required to stay close for last minute parties and such...

But if I do stay close... Why would I be required to be IN your home most of the time?

...

*Smiles mischievously as her hand slips down and rubs her clit*

Oh I get it now... I'd be hired to 'beautify' your parties AND your home. Anna should really have mentioned that part from the start, it would have made things a lot clearer! Especially since I wasn’t even aware ‘beautifying’ a rich man’s home was even a thing!

Not as an official job anyway… 

But huh… Now that I think about it…

Why do I get the feeling you're going to expect a little more from me than just admiring my half naked body every day?

...

*Giggles*

No! I’m not saying you're not handsome enough... Because you certainly are… A girl could be tempted to let things drift towards less... Professional activities…

*Winks*

But I'm afraid you'll be disappointed if you think I won't be able to resist your charms! I mean... I'm just not that kind of girl... Not totally at least... I mean I LOVE to flirt as much as the next gal… I mean... Like... Isn't it all part of being a hired party girl?

...

*Frowns*

What do you mean this particular job requires more than what I'm used to as a party girl? Are you telling me that if you hire me, I'll be expected to like... Put out for you?

*Laughs*

Sorry... I think I completely misunderstood the type of job Anna was alluding to. I'm not looking to find a job like THAT! I mean... It sounds a lot like you are looking to hire a call girl or something...

...

HHmm...

Yeah ok... Sure... You make a good point...

After everything is like... Said and done... You ARE hiring sex objects... I get that... But that doesn't mean there's actual sex involved!

I mean... If that's what's expected of me if I'm hired... Then I don't know if I want to apply...

...

What do you mean I'm sending mixed signals?

*Looks down at herself*

Oh god! I didn't realize I was... Wow... I'm sooooo sorry!

...

Well even if you don't mind the show... I mean... I'm not... Like... Masturbating like this on purpose or anything...

Wait... Why can't I stop rubbing myself?

...

Hahaha...

Yeah right... You're handsome and all... But saying you are just too handsome for me to resist touching myself is a bit of a stretch!

Although... I am pretty fucking wet...

When did that happen?

Ok... What's happening to me?

...

What do you mean 'it's just the results of my high compatibility'?

*Eyes grow wide in realization*

Wait... I went topless without noticing too...

...

What? No... I'm pretty sure this isn't normal! I would never just... You know... Like this...

...

Yes... Of course... I always want to look into your eyes...

They're so nice to look at...

Wait... They... Are doing... Some...Thing...

I must... Look away...

I...

I can't...

L...o...o...k... A...w...aaaa...yyy.....

...

*Blinks rapidly*

Hhhmmm... There's just something so soothing about your eyes...

I just can't help looking into them!

*Looks down at her active fingers and smiles*

I can't believe I'm doing this... But you're right, I just can't help myself...

*Looks up and notices the bulge in his pants*

Looks like you can't quite help yourself either...

Even if I'm super comfortable touching myself in front of you, maybe I should stop

so we can both focus on the interview.

After all... It's the only important thing right now... Right?

...

No silly!

What kind of girl would I be if it bothered me to see you this aroused while I masturbated nude in front of you? It's fine I assure you!

Anyway... Have I proven myself enough of a good fit to get the job? Or is there more to this impromptu interview?

…

A talent demonstration? Ok…

I'm huh... Not sure what you expect from me... I mean... You've already seen me at your party tonight... I think I did a pretty good job of 'beautifying' the event...

*Her hips start to sway rhythmically*

Unless... You mean you want to see if I can dance? Like... The party tonight isn't really set up with a dance floor so I couldn't show off my moves.

...

*Giggles*

It's a shame that's not what you need me to demonstrate... But you're right... I'm sure you'll get plenty of opportunities to watch me dance if you hire me.

So if it's not my dance moves you need me to show off, what else can this pretty girl do to prove she deserves to be hired?

...

*Her left eyebrow lifts in surprise while she continues to sway her hips*

Really? You weren't kidding then...

*Her eyes dart down to his crotch*

I mean... Not that I'm against being a little more than eye candy... Like you said before... Why not have fun while I work right?

But...

I feel like asking me to demonstrate my 'oral talents' during my interview means that the main reason you are hiring me is for the sex rather than just being eye candy for you and your guests.

If it is... Then I'm not sure how I feel about that...

...

What was that?

*Looks down and realizes she is still masturbating*

*She looks up with a sheepish smile*

Ok well... I can't really fault you for thinking I would be ok with that... Huh... Request... Seeing as I'm still masturbating even though I thought I stopped...

But like... Earlier... You made it sound like the sex was just a fun part of the job... Not an actual requirement... And... If you need me to prove my talents to get the job… Then… Like... Doesn't that imply that it's the other way around and sex IS the actual job I'm applying for right now?

...

Thought so... Well if that's the case... I'm not sure I'm a good fit for this job...

Don't get me wrong... I'm more than willing to sleep with you during my term when the mood strikes! We are both attractive people... But I'd feel weird... Wrong even... To be like… Hired for the sex I offered...

You know?

...

No... I'm pretty sure I'm not masturbating because I want to be hired as your sexual plaything... That's just... Wrong... Isn't it?

...

Look into your lovely eyes?

Sure... I always want to look into your eyes...

So warm... So familiar...

So captivating... I can't resist them...

Something happ...e...nss...

Wh...en... I look... In...to... your... e...y...e...s…

I… Just… C…a…n't...

L...o...o...k... a...w...aaaa...yyy.....

...

*Blinks rapidly*

HHHHMMMMmmm... Fuck that feels so amazing...

Looking into your eyes is like... I don't know...

Intense...

Makes me feel so fucking good…

Wait... Are we in your bedroom? Weren't we in your backyard?

That's weird... I don't remember coming here at all...

...

No of course... You're right... Why should it bother me?

What I really need to focus on is this interview, nothing else should matter to me right now. Not if I want to get the job and I really want this job!

*Looks down at the bulge in his pants and blushes*

So huh... You really weren't kidding right? You know… When you said the job included... Huh... Sex...

...

No no! Of course I remember! I'm not THAT much of a clueless klutz! It's just... Well... I've never huh... Had a job like that... So... I guess I'm a little nervous...

You know?

...

Oh I know everything will be fine! I completely trust you and your hiring process! That's not the issue per say… I mean… I’m more than willing to show you my oral talents… 

It’s just...

I'm just not sure...

I mean... I’ve never… You know… Had a job like this before… As fun as it sounds… Something tells me that maybe… I’m not the right girl for the job…

...

Yeah ok sure... My high compatibility or whatever… Makes me the perfect girl for the job...

But I don't know...

Besides... What DOES that even mean? You haven't answered that yet. What am I highly compatible with?

...

Your eyes?

Yeah... I know what you mean... It feels so wonderful to look into them...

But... How can being highly compatible with the relaxing effects of your special eyes make me the perfect girl for the job?

…

*Blinks in disbelief*

Wait wait wait... Back up a minute...

What are you saying exactly? That can't be right... You can't just take control of people like that...

...

What?

*Looks down at her fully undressed body*

Ok... I... I'll admit I don't remember getting naked...

Wait... You’re serious… Aren’t you?

Oh god… This can’t be happening… I have to leave!

...

NO! 

I won't relax and... Look into your eyes… I… I mustn’t… 

You’ll take control again…

*Head lifts up and she looks into his eyes*

Oh god... I can't help it... I... I WANT to look into your eyes...

But I can't... You'll... Do... Things...

Fuuckk... Your eyes... They make me... Feel... So nice...

I... Don't... Want... To look... Away...

HHmmm...

So... C...a...p...t...i...v...a...t...i...n...g...

...

*Blinks rapidly*

HHHmmm... DAMN that feels so incredible… Like a massage for my brain…

It gets better and better...

*She kneels down in front of him sitting on the edge of the bed*

Say... If you do hire me... Will you keep looking into my eyes like that?

...

*Giggles*

You’ll do it to me as much as I want huh? Sounds pretty alluring to me…

*Moves forward and unconsciously places his cock between her tits*

Consider me doubly motivated to prove I'm worth it because I just can't get enough of how they make me feel! 

...

Right... I vaguely remember you saying something like that… But like... Why should it bother me if you take control of me with your eyes?

*Her hands come up and pushes her tits around his shaft*

...

Well I can see how some girls wouldn't like that…

But they just don’t know how safe it is to let you take control, that’s all!

*Smiles mischievously*

Besides… I’m sure that if they had a taste of your special control… They’d love how it felt just as much as I do…

*She starts moving her tits up and down his shaft*

...

Ahhh... Makes sense that I only feel this way because I'm highly compatible...

*Giggles*

I'll have to thank my lucky stars then... Not only does it give me a chance to get this amazing job opportunity... But it also allows me to feel the incredible effects of your eyes...

Although...

I'll admit that it's still a little unsettling that you can make me do things without me realizing I'm doing them! 

…

*Looks down at herself and giggles*

Oh my... Now how did THAT get there?

*Licks her lips as she notices the drop of precum on his shaft*

I'll admit, I'm kind of grateful to find myself suddenly stroking your cock like this... It completely bypasses my nervousness from before...

*Looks up and smiles*

I guess we could call it a benefit of being controlled... Right?

...

*Giggles*

Yeah... That was pretty strange to say…

Is that... HHmm... Your doing?

...

Thought as much!

*Giggles*

I guess that means you can control more than just my body! I have to admit... That's equally as frightening as it is fascinating...

*Continues to stroke up and down for a few moments*

So huh... I know I shouldn't be this curious... But since it looks like you'll be sampling my erotic delights regardless of what I would normally decide... May I ask for a favor?

...

It's nothing much... But so far, it feels like you've subtly used your eyes to make me do and think things without really noticing I was doing it… At first anyway…

*Giggles*

I'm not sure if it's even possible... But I'm curious to FEEL your control... I mean... Like... More than what I feel in your eyes… Is… Is that even possible? Or does your strange power only work one way?

...

It is possible? Great!

So all I have to do now is look into your eyes... Right?

*Smiles broadly as she does*

OOOhhh... I think I just... Felt the difference...

HHmmm... Fuck... That... F...ee...ls... SOO much better...

YYYeeesss...

I... Can... F...e...e...l... my...s...e...l...f... Sl...i...pp...ing...

...

*Blinks rapidly before licking her lips*

HHHHMMM.... Fuuccckk...

That was... HHmmm... Wow...

*Drools as she looks down to her chest*

Oh god... Your... Your cock!

That's... Oh yes... That's you isn't it?

Oh fuck... I can't...

I NEED it... Pp...Please?

I... need to suck it...

...

OH GOD thank you... MMMMFFF!

*Her mouth envelops his shaft in one smooth gulp*

*Moans around his girth before lavishing it with attention*

...

*Sucks up his length*

Fuck... Yes... FUCK yes...

*Looks up while her hands keeps stroking*

You're so fucking right... I... I've never felt so... GOOD... Sucking cock before... That's you too... Right?

...

Oh god... This is sooooo amazing... I mean... WOW...

It... It almost feels like I'm fucking!

*Kisses and licks his shaft a few times*

Come to think of it...

I... I didn't even think to resist the urge I felt... Fuck...

You were right...

*Licks and kisses his cock as she stroked*

With my high compatibility to your eyes... HHMMM...

*She shivers as she kisses his cock*

It really does make me perfect for the job… Because it's clear you can make me do… HHmm… Or want... Anything you wish...

*She focuses on licking the underside of his helm, making him moan*

I... I know it's wrong to wish for this...

But... Fuck...

This feels too amazing to pass up...

*She smiles seductively up at him*

...

Yes... Even after I've learned what it means to be hired...

I... I still want you to hire me.

Not that I'd have much of a choice in the matter if you already decided to hire me or not...

After all... I have the sneaking suspicion that you could just as easily fuck my brains out tonight and send me on my way without me finding anything odd or wrong about it.

Right?

*Winks playfully*

...

*Giggles*

I might look like a blonde bimbo... But I'd like to think I'm more clever than the average party girl...

*Sucks around the head for a few moments*

Which also allows me to deduce that your 'job offer' is really just an excuse to find pretty compatible girls to fill up your lovely home with what amounts to an obedient little Harem of girls you fully molded to your liking with special power...

That's what I'm REALLY auditioning for right now... Right?

...

*Giggles*

No... I can't say it bothers me that I’m actually interviewing for a… Well… Harem girl position…

I’ll admit that it’s like… Clearly NOT what I expected when I looked for you tonight, but honestly, I’m not disappointed that I am.

*Kisses his cock head*

Especially not after experiencing how amazing your control feels and how pleasurable it can make my...

*Giggles*

Expected duties…

*Giggles as she resumes sucking*

*Slowly worships his manhood*

...

*Looks up in to his eyes, cock still in her mouth* 

*Her up and down moves slow down*

*Her gaze grows vacant*

...

*Blinks rapidly as shot after shot splashes on her face*

HHmm… OOHHH!!!

Fuck…

*Giggles*

That felt so amazing… And god… Waking up to your sudden release…

Wow… Feels like you just claimed me… Christened me even…

*Wipes a big globe from her cheeks and makes of show of tasting it*

Hhmm… If this means what I think it means… Then I’m looking forward to fully converting to my new object of worship…

*Licks her lips while winking seductively*

You know… Your eyes are really amazing because right now, I’m not afraid to say that they turned me into a new convert that is eager to worship your control and I have great faith that my surrender to your special power will bring me infinite pleasures…

…

*Giggles*

What? No! Why would you pay someone you can completely mind control with your eyes? I already feel like you own me… And… Like… Why would you give a salary to someone you own? It makes no sense. 

Especially since the benefits of said ownership feels so damn incredible…

…

*Smiles brightly*

Thank you! Huh… Sir… I’ll do my very best to live up to your expectation and if I don’t, please feel free to use your eyes on me until I have no choice but to fulfill them.

[katsu28]

Omg Kait that prompt list 🥺 what about the prompt “massage” with Rooster?🥰

nova my fellow rooster enthusiast ily, thank you for requesting <3

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, 0.9k

Bradley tended to carry his tension in his shoulders, you’d noticed. All the stress from a long day at work, all the responsibilities he carried and the things he had to think about; everything built up until his body locked up and all he could do was muscle through it. 

It was a wonder how he didn’t crack under all that pressure. 

You found him sprawled out facedown on the bed today, lying so still you thought he was asleep at first. His shirt was cast off to the side, arms folded under his head as his body moved with his rhythmic breathing. He looked…tense. Tired. 

It wasn’t until you crept across the room to grab something quietly that he lifted his head, searching for you slowly. Even utterly exhausted, Bradley’s eyes always found you. The bags under his eyes were somehow worse than just a few days ago, which made your heart lurch.

You hated seeing Bradley so drained. Sometimes you wondered if his job was really worth the toll it put his body through. He would say yes, but one look at him had you questioning it. 

“Hey, you,” You said softly, smiling at him warmly. He managed a noncommittal groan, but not much else. “Hard day?”

Bradley heaved out a big sigh, slowly rolling spread-eagle onto his back. “That would be the understatement of a century.” 

“Need anything?” 

“Just you.” His hand reached up, out towards you, fingers wiggling in an invitation to come lay with him. You obliged immediately, all thoughts of what you’d come in here to get in the first place trickling away as you crawled up the bed, snuggling up next to him in the space he’d made for you. 

He sighed again, though it was more content this time. But even then, you could feel the stiffness of his shoulder under your head. 

“You’re in pain.” You observed, sitting up within a second. You noticed that Bradley grimaced with your sudden movement. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He insisted, giving his head a ginger shake. “Just wanna lay with you, I’ll feel better soon.” 

“I think I might know what would help you.” 

“I appreciate it, I do, but I’m okay—” You rolled him back over to his stomach and swung your leg over him, taking a seat on his back right above his tailbone in one fell swoop. Bradley attempted to crane his neck to look at you once more, but you tapped the back of his head, a sign to stop moving. 

“Be quiet and relax.” 

“What’re you—oh.” The second your hands pressed into his shoulders, he positively melted into the bed under him, letting out an appreciative groan. “Oh shit.” 

You rubbed his shoulders silently, then moved down his back, admiring the way the planes of muscle contracted with every circle of your hands. Bradley Bradshaw had a very nice back. All the while, Bradley was practically singing your praises, moaning and groaning up a storm as you worked out the knots in his back. 

Had anyone walked into your place right now, they probably would’ve gotten a very wrong idea of what was happening. 

“Jesus, you’re good at this.” He mumbled, voice muffled by his arm. “D’you have, like, magic hands or something?” 

“Not the first time you’ve asked me that question.” You hummed, lips turning up into a smile.

Bradley snorted. “Guess I walked right into that one, huh?” 

“Guess you did.” 

When you were done, you leaned over him, pressing your lips over his warm skin soothingly. Every mole, every freckle, every scar got a gentle kiss, and by the time you were finished with that, Bradley was beginning to drift off to sleep. He managed to roll back over once you’d climbed off him, blinking at you slowly. His eyes looked hazy, fluttering shut with his impending slumber, but even so, he smiled at you almost drunkenly. 

“Better?” You chuckled, smoothing your fingers through his hair. Bradley’s trailed down the inside of your arm featherlight, pulling you against his chest with surprising ease for someone who was half asleep. 

“Hundred percent.” He murmured. His hand slid around the back of your neck to bring you in close to him once you were settled for the second time, mouth pressing against yours in a short and sweet kiss. Your hand caressed the curve of his jaw until he pulled away, moving up to thumb across his bottom lip tenderly. “You always take such good care of me, sweetheart. What did I ever do to deserve you?” 

“I believe it was the tipsy flirting at the Hard Deck that ended with your drink all over my shoes that really won me over.” You teased, giving his firm chest a pat. “Very endearing. Made me swoon.” 

“Oh, ha ha. Real funny.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I told you, I wasn’t drunk, I slipped on a patch of sand.” 

“A patch of sand. Inside. Sure.” 

“The place is right on the beach, is it really that hard to believe?” 

“It is. Cute try though.”

[waittheydontloveyou]

Here have my brain

1. Piper says hi. Mostly I call him ‘kitty’ or ‘kee kee’. He sleeps and lays on me all the time. It feels like I have a sweet lil baby again and it’s kinda nice yall. We think he’s 2 months old now.

2. My face has been more dry/peely/red lately. Not sure if it’s the kitten or just my lack of self care honestly. It’s not new but it is worse. I have what I think is rosacea or eccema or both. I know my skin does better under different eating conditions and was absolutely perfect when I did keto a million years ago. But lol no

3. Trying ozempic. Just got week 5’s shot. Slowly losing weight. A few pounds a week. (I’m down 21lbs total🎉 just like 80-100 to go🤣 god that’s depressing). I feel like I can tell a difference in my stomach but i said that and the next day a patient asked me if I was pregnant so maybe I’m just imagining it🤣(this is a recurring thing, people asking me if I’m pregnant since gaining weight. It’s all in the very best place to store fat. My belly😒) sometimes I lie and tell people yes I’m pregnant bc I don’t want them to feel embarrassed for me. 🤦🏻‍♀️🤣 like when it’s a patient and imma have to deal with them all night it’s sometimes easier to just say yes so they’re not all weird for 12 more hours) anyways I’m 28 weeks and it’s a girl and her name will be Polly. (Lol jk)

Pros: appetite is that of a human. Portion control is done for me. Like I don’t even want to eat more than when I feel full. I FEEL full. Haven’t felt that in years since starting depression meds 11 years ago. I’m less nauseated than before starting it, I’m guessing bc I’m prediabetic and my blood sugars were shit.

Cons: literally none for me so far. I was nervous re nausea bc I was already struggling with that before. But it’s improved it. I still get nauseas sometimes but it’s even less than prior to starting the med. I started off at the lowest ever dose (4 units- max is 45 I think). Todays dose I did 8 for the second week. Nice to know when/if things are stagnate I can move up. Im doing this in place of weight loss surgery for now.

4. Weight loss surgery. I went to my appointment last week and honestly it scared the crap out of me. They were trying to rush it and make you sign contracts stating you’ll get a cardiologist, pulmonologist, nutritionist, psych, surgeon all to meet you and then monthly until your surgery and then see psych and nutritionist and them after and if you don’t you’re off the list and have to start over. Also I have to stop vaping and they test you and lol I’m here bc I have no self control lol. Also I couldn’t afford it. The only way I can afford the ozempic bc my friend is an NP and gets it for me.

5. I straightened up some and showered today. Where’s my prize?

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone knows me at the dump. I don’t mean this in a bragging sort of way. In fact, I hate this fact. The reason why everyone knows me at the dump is that Mr. Jones, the dump operator, has posted the CCTV footage and blurry cell-phone camera pictures of my face on the break room wall. Even the youngest probie at the dump will look at me, every morning, while they wait for the coffee machine to dispense their mandatory cup of black joy.

You can probably guess why this has happened to me. I love junk, and the dump has a lot of that junk. To me, it is offensive that the dump hoards that junk. They keep it from me, using excuses like “sanitation” and “safety,” but safety is my middle name. If they would just give me a chance, then I would be the best they’ve ever seen. I’d even remove and sort the little lithium-ion vape batteries that haven’t exploded yet, out of gratitude.

Of course, we both know why I’m digging through trash at the dump. I don’t want old Betamax VCRs, or mouldy cardboard boxes heralding products from a bygone era. Well, I do, but I don’t want them more than I want a two-stroke dirt bike, and I’ve seen tons of those over the years get callously tossed into the debris pile by the great unwashed. They’re always getting thrown out for little reasons, like “carb jet plugged,” or “caught on fire,” or “couldn’t get anyone to buy it on Craigslist for septuple the market value so I threw it away out of spite.” I could save these bikes, and to be not allowed to save them is literal torture.

Just like anyone else would in my shoes, I started wearing elaborate disguises to the dump. Sometimes I could loot one, and throw it into the back of my car, and be gone before the dump operators (there weren’t even security guards yet, back then) could catch up to me. I had enough disguises – and enough cars – that I could pull this off for a little while. Then, used cars got really expensive, and the folks in my neighbourhood started using security fasteners to hold on their license plates. I started to escape by tighter and tighter scrapes, until one fateful day.

That bastard Jones figured me out. He came from Chicago, of all places, a city which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even have a dump. And he knew my kind. He set a trap: an agonizingly pristine, 1989 Yamaha XT225. Sure, it was a four-stroke, but it was still love at first sight. It was planted right on top of one of the big piles of disposable diapers, visible even from the highway. Even knowing it was a trap, I made plans for months to grab it.

The joke’s on him, though. I’ve started my own private dump, and I’ve paid the government to start outsourcing dump operations to me. We’re an extremely efficient operation, much more affordable for the taxpayer than the wasteful public dump. How so, you ask? Well, we are much more selective with what waste we accept, and we wrote one helluva contract, which had a bunch of big words that confused the gin-addled politicos that signed it out of desperation to meet their “lower taxes” pledge.

Here’s how it works. We charge the city hundreds of thousands of dollars a month, and we get first pick of any internal combustion engines that are in the back of the garbage trucks. Everything else goes down the road to the regular dump. We’re making a fortune. If we keep putting out numbers like this, I’m sure there will soon be layoffs over at Jones’ shithole. Hell, maybe I’ll even hire him to manage security around these parts. Can’t have anyone walking off with my good trash.

[blueskrugs]

sleeping with someone | Nick Blankenburg

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

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

length: 14.2k words

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

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

“Sorry, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After that, she tries not to think about it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Move on in life, move on from her. 

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

“Things change, shit happens,” she adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No complaining about my playlist,” she says.

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

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

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

Nick’s back to fidgeting the passenger seat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll try,” Mikayla says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pepperoni,” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” he asks.

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

“Hey!” Nolan protests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” Nolan asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no way.”

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

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

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

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

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

Mikayla heaves a sigh. “Fine, whatever.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“KJ texted me,” she says. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not,” Mikayla says. 

“Mik.”

“Nolan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was when we were dating.”

“And why do you think I’m lying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even two weeks ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Done,” Nick says quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So did you fix your shit?” KJ asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa,” Kent says. “Slow down.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m almost 5’9”!” Nick protests. 

“Almost is not the same thing, Nicholas!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you kept it?” Mikayla asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick grins. “You were paying attention?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you, Nick,” she says.

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

Nick looks hopeful when Mikayla opens her eyes again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to,” Nick says.

[atwhughesversion]

hello :) if you have more fil lore to share i would love to hear it 🫶

oh my god yes i do!! buckle in bc i love this czech man and his gorgeous beard and this post got a little long.

first, here is fil being smiley with his former teammate fil (fun fact: filip zadina is who the red wings picked instead of quinn hughes in the draft, allowing the canucks to get quinn.):

source

second, while i can only add one video, here is a link to one minute of fil and his dog (the photos below are from this vid)

fun facts about hronek:

idk if you’ve seen the clip but during one of the last games of the season, when the canucks were beating the flames 3-0, the hot mic picked up on fil shouting “you have holidays in two days” to the flames bench

he scored a goal off of a 107.9mph shot last season which is insane and i need him to do it again

quinn literally loves him:

“I thought we were going to be a very good tandem, but we’ve been way better than I could’ve pictured us being. He’s helped me so much.” [source]

“(I) probably haven’t played with a player as good as him. He’s really skilled, can move the puck, can see things, can defend, can skate…they wanted to maybe split us up but I’m happy we’re together.” [source]

“Maybe he’s not comfortable around the media, which is fine. But around us, he’s like one of my favourite teammates ever. He’s not quiet, but he’s not loud. He wants to work with me and I want to work with him.” [source]

fil vs the media:

literally gonna be a rivalry for the ages now that he’s signed a long-term deal w us and i kinda can’t wait.

backstory: hronek is quite reserved and isn’t super comfortable in front of the media, as is his right. at his exit interview this season, jeff paterson got into it with him because fil denied that he had an injury and jeff wanted him to say that he did on the record lmao. this conversation starts at around 2:25 of this video:

hronek: i mean, you named it. like, first half of the year i was producing, second half i was not.

paterson: and why was that?

hronek, my sassy king: um, why? if i know the answer, i probably would do something different.

paterson: were you playing through an injury?

hronek: ?? no

paterson, about to make his way onto my bad side: like, we gave you your space all year; we’re just trying to ask a few questions at this stage

hronek: well what do you want me to say?

paterson: i just, i was curious about where the production-

hronek: what do you want me to say on—like, on the injury, if i didn’t have injury, what do you want me to say? i said no.

[cue awkward silence until a different reporter starts talking to soucy]

now, fast forward a little while: he still hadn’t re-signed, and vancouver media was doing vancouver media things (speculating about how he probably hates it here and there’s no way he can be a canuck if he doesn’t like doing media and he probably wants to go to a more lowkey city etc etc.) when, low and behold, he signed an 8-year contract extension. One of his quotes?

"I guess I'm going to have to do more media for 8 more years. It's going to be fun." [source]

him and jeff paterson are gonna be bffs by like november 2027.

also, filip on vancouver as a market/canucks fans:

“I like it. It’s nice when people like it and they enjoy the hockey and they’re supporting us, so, it’s a lot of fun.” [source]

some fil pics:

baby fil:

[mellowyellow236]

Poor And Fortunate Souls

Azul finds a bubbly merfolk who’s looking for love. He makes a deal in exchange for your voice, a fair deal. It’s a fair deal, right? (Based off some headcanons I did. GN!Reader based on Ariel.)

~

Azul’s first thought was that you were beautiful. His second was that you were a great contender to make a contract with him. You were everything that he needed; gullible, ditzy, and a bit vague. He smiled as he planned how to catch you in his jaws and hold you close enough that you wouldn’t be able to move again. No… That you wouldn’t be able to speak. That soothing thought satiated him as you rambled on and on, something about hoping to find someone on land, or something of the like. Thinking of how you wouldn’t even be able to stand up for yourself, simply dependent on him to speak for you…

“Ah, of course. I can give you whatever you desire, as long as you sign right here.” He smiled, watching as you finished looking through the contract. It turned into more of a smirk as you signed, and shook his hand, his gloves over the delicate hands of one who had never had to depend on their own labors. Your voice in exchange for him to find you the perfect lover. If you don’t give up your voice, you turn into seafoam three weeks after the day you two start dating. A fine deal. He can’t lose.

“When should I start working here? You’ve got me as your worker, whenever you need!” Azul nodded,

“Every day, you’ll be working here after school until closing. You’re our only singer, after all.” He couldn’t help but restrain a laugh as you stood up with such excitement.

“Really? Oh, I’ve always loved to sing in front of crowds, that isn’t even a problem! I can even sing on the weekends if you’d like, I think it’s just so wonderful here. And, you know, the seashells remind me so much of home. You’re also from the Coral Sea, right? Which part? It'd be so interesting if turns out we used to know each other-” He let you babble on and on, ushering you out of his office all the while you kept on going. Once you were desperate enough to leave, it would be a blessing that you let him pluck your voice out from the source.

~

Azul’s third thought about you was how much of a chatterbox you were. You never seemed to shut up, always keeping going, going, going, until you started running yourself in circles. It was a blessing that he had chosen you to sing, or else you would have scared all his customers off.

“Azul, Azul! Guess what?” You waited for no explanation as you went on, “Whatever potion you gave me really works! Listen, I mentioned that one friend that I wanted to get to know, and he started to get closer to me and talk to me more and stuff. Azul, do you think he’s the one?” He sighed as you answered yourself, “No, I don’t think so. He’s got the wrong eyes, the guy I’m looking for has blue ones. You don’t think you’ve seen the real one, Azul?”

“I don’t believe we have, yet. But I’m working on it, and Jade and Floyd are both doing very well when it comes to looking for more information. You should write down whatever it is you want me to look for, specifically. Every detail helps-”

“But I’ve already told you a million times, every little detail! He’s tall, and strong-looking, and probably human, and he’s got the prettiest black hair and blue eyes!” He felt his eye twitch as you whined.

“Send me, a voice message, if you wish for it to be fully committed to memory. I’ll memorize whatever you send me.” He said, as your eyes lit up and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Really, Azul? Really, really?” You squealing, hugging him. “I didn’t know you liked hearing me talk so much! Thank you! I’ll be sure to send you lots of things, okay? You better not forget any! Ah, I’m gonna be late to get out and sing. Come listen to me, okay? No! Better yet, I’ll send you a message tonight. How does that sound? Goodbye!” You seemed to wait for no man, nor for Azul to respond that he desired no recording from you. He could only sigh as you ran off, sitting down at his desk once more.

~

His fourth thought was how you were a good singer. He had known this since he got his eye on you, yes, but he had never stopped to appreciate it. But here he was, lying on his bed, listening to you sing a sappy song. He didn’t care for the lyrics, something silly. Probably just the short phrase you wanted someone to say to you so badly, extended for three minutes in a million different ways.

To be exact, it was 34 lines, not including repeated phrases. He had to memorize that much. He had to, that’s why he was doing it. He didn’t care that the song was talking about how beautiful the listener was, or how much you loved someone. Not even when you tried to sing a little old sailing song about an octo-mer, not even as you added on that you thought it was fun that he not the listener, not the audience would love you like it, and that you thought he was pretty beautiful, stunning, jaw-dropping, he wasn’t fat, he wasn’t unloveable, he wasn’t weird, he was only yours

His fifth thought is that you’re a good person. The perfect kind to make a deal with. He’ll get what he wants. He wants your voice.

~

Azul wants his fifth thought to be joy. He’s found the person you’re looking for. He wants that to be it.

You’ve got a boyfriend now. You don’t have time to leave him long voice memos anymore, you’re on a call with your boyfriend. You don’t have time to stay later with him, long after work, talking to him as he does work, you’re on a date with your boyfriend.

And you think he’s pretty, and sweet, and adventurous. What about Azul, huh? He’s just as much as that guy is. He’s sweet, look at how much he gives everyone. Look at how everyone goes to him for deals. Look, he’s doing so well. He went here on an adventure, he’d never gone up to land before. Aren’t you going to look? Please, look.

Please.

Azul’s fifth thought is that he can’t stand the thought of being just another member of your audience.

~

His sixth thought is how you’re gullible. Stupid, naive. So, so stupid. You sold him your voice.

Not your music.

Not your time spent singing.

You agreed to twist the terms. You agreed to sell your voice. In return, they promised that your boyfriend would love you until his last day. And Azul got your voice. You’re gullible. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ugly. Stupid. Fat. Naive. Weird. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

He hates you. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. He loves you.

~

His seventh thought is that you’re beautiful. Your voice is, at least. It joins him on his bedside now. Maybe the rest of the room can hear it sing sadly. It regrets you leaving. See, it does. You never should have left. It thought those contract terms were unfair, you lost so much more than you gained. See? Don’t you want to come back?

When Azul has it to himself, he has seafoam in his hands. Fluffy and soft. Useless. It’s useless.

In the end, he’s the one who turned into that silly, foamed-up mess that clouds where the sea meets dry land. Alone in his office with only a voice to keep him company, having it repeat the only words he wanted to hear. I love you, I love you, I love you.

His eighth thought is that he hates you.

[strawberryblondebutch]

What are your thoughts on the sirens not signing fillier yet?

I talked about it in a different post (I’m on mobile atm so I won’t be able to find it) but my guess is that it’s an argument over contract term and not money. The team wants to lock her up for three years, she (and her agent) know that a lot of money is coming off the books in 2026 (all those three-year veteran deals from the inaugural season) and are pushing for two.

There’s no reason to believe a deal won’t get done. Someone will budge, because no one has anything to gain from the holdout. The Sirens can’t afford to give up their 1OA pick, and the longer Fillier holds out, the harder it will be to get a contract in a Euro league (which I’m under the impression she doesn’t particularly want anyway).

As low as I am on Fillier (I’ve talked about it before, I think her past two years at Princeton kind of killed what made her game good and will make it harder to adjust to the pros), I think her being unsigned is a worse look for the team than the player. Holdouts in men’s sports look bad on the player, because the expectation is to be grateful you’re even getting an opportunity. Haason Reddick just got dropped by his agent for refusing to play for the NY Jets and sitting out games. Given that the PWHL players’ union was formed by 200+ athletes who said, “We’re sitting out until our demands are met,” this contract delay is a red flag to a collective that’s fine waiting years to get what they want.

[soranihimawari]

Cats & Sweet Starts

Kuroo Tetsurō has been nominated for many things: most likely to succeed, most likely to be chemistry quiz bowl champion, most likely to date a supermodel… but when he stands in front of you at your first JVA-interns reunion, he’s sopping wet from the beer a horrid ex-boyfriend of yours throws at your face. Or at least tried to.

“You always protected ‘em huh Kuroo? Just like helped cover her mistakes when the boss was around,” the jerk scoffs.

“I just did it because you kept putting ‘em down at the board meetings, asshole,” Kuroo says before wiping his face. He turns to you asking if you’re ok, you nods. However, before your old fling at the office leaves, you put your glass down and march right up and sock the idiot who ruined your friend’s suit with your fist.

Kuroo laughs a bit stunned you could hit that hard. Jerk of an ex-fling looks at you and rubs his cheek.

“Pop quiz dickweed,” you square your shoulders in your bar attire. “Before volleyball what was the the one sport I was the captain for?”

The rag doll of a guy who probably has an STD now for being a player looks at you says you probably broke his cheek and you shake your head.

“Does it look like I care? You ruined our reunion. Get out of here,” turns to look at Kuroo with an apologetic smile. “Your suit’s ruined. I really liked that one too….”

An hour or so later, the pub is lively again and you walk together with your current department neighbor at the JVA. He talks about how badass you were after he took the whiskey sour hit on your behalf.

“… but you kicked Kuwabara’s ass. Have you always been that strong?”

You’re at the lobby of Kuroo’s apartment complex about to leave after saying your goodnights.

“Hmm… you didn’t know me in high school, but i guess I still am, haha. Don’t forget I’m paying for your dry cleaning. Just send me in the invoice, ok Kuroo-kun?”

He nods and waves as you head to your home via hailing a cab.

You’re about to be dropped off in your drive way when you piece some things together and tell the driver you’d pay him double to take you back to the apartment complex he picked you up in.

The ride back to Kuroo’s complex was an entertaining one. You tell the driver all about how Kuroo introduced himself in the first day; you were cubicle buddies for the next six to eight months during your internship five years ago; now you’ve officially signed on with him your department and his work on promotional athletes from the national team…

“I’m in merchandise development and he’s in sports contracts,” you say proudly at the light right before the complex.

“And falling in like, happened when?” The driver asks bemused.

“Three years ago when we had to fake a relationship so his family would stop worrying about him too much,” you smile.

“And falling in love…?”

“Two hours ago when my ex splashed a cocktail all over his face…thanks mister.”

You hand the driver some cash and run straight to the elevators.

Meanwhile, Kuroo is on the phone with his team trying to sort out his emotions that are tied to you until one of them turns into all of them saying what he’s known since you bought him that little cactus for his big boy promotion desk. It stares at him everyday and he watered it for a year then on the eve of your friendship anniversary (his idea you went along with), you tell him it’s a fake plant. You and him laughed together over tea time. Kuroo’s friends agree saying he’s just got to for it and see what works.

“I gotta go fellas, thanks,” Kuroo hangs up and though he is in his tank top under shirt and old college sweatpants, his finger hovers over your name on his phone. Sighing he’s about to call you when he hears a knock and goes to open the door after seeing who it was.

“YN?”

You smile brightly apologizing for the late house call after you saw each other not that long ago:

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, standing on your toes to kiss him.

Kuroo’s golden eyes seem matte and warm when you pull away. Your cheek is stroked gently by his curled forefinger and his other hand holds you steady when you return to the ground shoes and all.

“Wh-when?” He lingers near you before you push him inside to close the door behind you. His smile is Cheshire like and cheeks are a soft plum pink under the fluorescent lighting of his living room. He holds your hand and realizes you haven’t answered just yet, but he sees your blush spread.

“Pub,” you laugh and he cups your face to kiss you again. “You?”

“When you reminded me you did judo,” Kuroo laughs too, letting you kiss him for as long as you’re able to. He returns them with as much vitality as he deems worthy.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Just to See You Happy

Rating: T

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings (to Hide Spoilers)

Status: In-progress (3/?)

Tags: Time Travel Fix-It | Family Feels | Adopted Sibling Relationship | Quest of Erebor | Meddling Valar | Unreliable Narrator Bilbo Baggins | Bookverse is basically a lie | Flashbacks to Bilbo raising Frodo

Summary: Frodo has carried the Ring and deserves as much rest as any mortal can bear. He refuses to see his mission as complete until Bilbo finds his happiness. When Valinor does not hold the answer he needs, he launches himself into the past into an adventure that doesn’t belong to him all in the hope of finding Bilbo’s happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Chapter: Chapter 3- Before Bilbo Signs a Contract

hese were the princes. The ones that died defending their uncle in that terrible battle.

“Are you Mr. Boggins?” Kili asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Frodo grinned. “I am a Mr. Baggins, but I believe you are here for my older brother.”

Kili seemed to accept that easily enough if his returning smile was anything to go off. Fili remained frozen in place.

“So you’re…not the burglar?”

Frodo wondered if he was slow and looked over at Kili to confirm if this was normal behavior. From the brunette’s bewilderment, he could assume it was not.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Frodo answered.

“Oh no! It’s not a disappointment.” Fili answered. “You just…you weren’t what I was expecting a burglar to be.”

Frodo raised an eyebrow now. Maybe he should have let Bilbo open the door. Maybe he screwed something up by not letting this occur exactly like it had the first time.

“That’s good, I guess. Considering, once again, I’m not one.” Before Fili had a chance to make this any more awkward, Frodo flung the door wide open. “In any case, please come in, feel free to hang your cloaks and join us in the dining room.”

Frodo tried to ignore the hushed conversation behind him as he moved further into the smial to find Bilbo.

“There’s something odd about one of the new dwarves.”

For more of this chapter, please click the AO3 link above!

[lestappenforever]

I’ve just watched a couple of the TPs post race reactions, as well as saw the strategies that the teams used and we can conclude a couple of things from it:

The Mercedes power unit had quiet a noticeable presence today, especially with Williams, who fun fact, also take a lot of the legal components that they are allowed from Mercedes, according to James Vowles (Zak Brown, where did you dip to now). Alex and Logan both had the pace, and could have been in points today. But the power units on both the cars, in addition to Logan’s steering wheel caused them the race. But the issues were not only in the Williams, Mercedes themselves had issues, with the batteries not working properly or dying. Mercedes, what is wrong with the power units after securing multiple multi year contracts?

You can take the man out of Ferrari but not the Ferrari out of the man (Laurent Mekies I’m looking at you). The way RB handled today’s race was actually shit. Again this team was close to points, even closer than the Williams with Yuki P11. But the way they handled the race, and especially in those last few laps, just proves that Laurent still doesn’t have the handles of how Red Bull teams work, he’s, you could say, still stuck in the Ferrari haze. The car is actually good, which we saw in testing and the data, but the team handling was just shit today, and with this, Red Bull could overlook both of them, even drop one of the 2, for Liam, who was promised (maybe even signed?) a seat for 2025.

Nico is absolutely unlucky, and that is a ghost that is hunting him down. Man had a good start, but that collision with Lance cost him his race, which he could have finished in the point. Also, that Haas has pace, it’s not so bad. Let’s see if the absence of Guenther and the presence of a more technical TP is going to impact the team.

Zhou is impressive. He gained quiet a lot, with gaining 6 places and the car is not that great. I did not know his game.

Ferrari pulled a Ferrari. That’s all that could be said. Charles was very confident yesterday. He even was visibly very upset with the fact that he got P2, to today. Like, yes we don’t know if there was something, but fucking it up to the extent that the car is dangerous to even stop. This man just signed a fucking multi year contract, don’t make him regret it.

And finally, we now understand Red Bull’s runs. The runs that were only (or mainly) on C1, C2 and C3 only. They were able to properly visualize the race. And the fact that we saw how everyone in Red Bull expected the car to be slower shows that they have cooked (Adrain Newey, looks like you did it again). And the fact that these runs of Free Practices and Testing showed correct data of this track, not really focusing on topping the time sheets or any of that shit. They put their heads down and focused on the time sheets that mattered, focusing one race at a time, as well as visualize how the car is going to be and how it will work and react, gathering the data needed for checking the car (in football terms: partido a partido).

So yeah, these are kind of my initial post race analysis. Still want to geek more, but I guess this is enough for now?

(I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until I got this off my brain or I would have been overthinking all night long)

I love this analysis so much.

The way VCARB fucked Yuki over by forcing him to let Daniel overtake and proceeding to not even being able to overtake the fucking Haas in front of him is absolutely appalling. I know Yuki has some temper issues he definitely needs to work on when he's in the car, but I fully support his anger this time. The move was completely uncalled for, and VCARB desperately need to realize that they can't put their eggs in the wrong basket. No matter what his die-hard fans say, Daniel is not the future of F1 and Red Bull.

With the exception of Max pulling a very Max race and being superior to the rest of the grid, my favorite part of yesterday's race was definitely Zhou. He did so well, and it was such a pleasure to see him finish P11. I really hope this season will be good for him because I so desperately want him to succeed.

Ferrari being Ferrari was, sadly, not even remotely surprising. But, it's only the first race of the season and Charles still being able to drag that broken fucking car to P4 is impressive as hell.

Red Bull has handled testing and the first race weekend masterfully, and their 1-2 finish yesterday was truly deserved. I have a feeling this season will be a good one for them, even if their domination might not be quite as extreme.

(I hope you've had a great night's sleep, lovely. ❤️)

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Chapter 8

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER That's right, after being out of commission for a couple months, chapter 8 is FINALLY finished.

AND I HAVE SOME GOOD NEWS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO'VE BEEN ASKING FOR IT:

Where the Stars Don't Shine is finally posted on ao3! The new chapter is here!

I am so so so sorry about the wait, so I made it extra long just for you guys! As always, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly, welcome back to the slumber party, I saved yall some front row seats! (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!) Anyways, hope yall enjoy this, and without further ado-

On with the show!

Word Count: 4,962

-------

All your excitement during your encounter with Sun vanishes when it becomes clear just what sort of day it’s going to be.

You had a bit of a mixed bag in attendance today. All your regulars, plus a couple new faces here and there. It started out okay, really.

And then one new kid in particular showed his hand and cemented his legacy as one of the most spoiled children you have ever had the dishonor of meeting.

You try not to dwell on it and just move on, but this kid…this kid is awful . Pushing other kids around, turning his nose up at snacks and eating off other kids’ plates, ripping the heads off toys…

(You really have to remember to bring your sewing kit next time.)

You know it’s not the kid’s fault for his behavior, more of the people who raised him, and you try not to hold it against him, you really do. By the looks of it, Sun is trying, too, but both of your patience is drawing thin.

You draw the line when he tears out a page of your books that one of the other boys was reading.

You remind yourself repeatedly that you are not allowed to punch a child. 

You do put him in time-out, though. And you can guess by this kid’s behavior that their parents are going to raise hell about it.

You discover some hours later that your assumption is completely correct when said parent comes in later to pick up their child and you confront them about the brat’s behavior, to which their response is an offended gasp and a rant about how awful your work ethic is and you’re not providing enough care this is why people like you are in jobs like this you’re lucky you’re even employed that makes the brick walls behind security desk that you have the strong urge to slam your head into all the more appealing. You stand there with a polite customer service smile and take it like the valued employee you are while trying to remember what temperature human flesh burns at before chastising yourself, until you’re thrown back into reality and catch the tail end of what she says. 

“-and are you even listening to me right now? Ugh, you’re even denser than the robot, at least it can do its job right. You’re supposed to be the competent worker and you’re being beaten by a walking junkyard pile-”

Yeah, nope, not this again.

You bristle at her words, gritting your teeth slightly and forcing your smile to maintain itself. If it looks slightly more manic than intended, that can’t be helped, but you had always been good at playing the part of someone weaker than you. “I’m so sorry you feel that way, ma’am. I’m sure you can leave a review regarding our services on our website if you’d like. However, Fazbear does not tolerate abuse and slander of any of its staff. Thanks for stopping by and have a Faz-er- iffic day!”

You slam the door in her face just as she opens her mouth (likely to respond with another offensive remark) and dust your hands off in satisfaction. It’s not the first time someone’s come to complain about you and your coworkers. In truth, the company probably couldn’t care less how the clients treated their workers and their ‘property’ as long as they got paid. Slander against you, you could understand; you signed a contract and sold your soul away. One of the agreements was to deal with annoying clients. But the other two? They had been built for this, any complaint against them was the fault of the company itself, and besides, you couldn’t see them as anything other than people since the moment you’d spoken to them. After all, a company probably wouldn’t leave a prerecorded message expressing immediate hostility towards its employees on their first day of work, now would it?

They had to have some level of sentience to make that decision.

You mark off the last child with a pleased grin. At least with the way she’d reacted you could guarantee that neither the harpy woman nor her little satan spawn son ever set foot in the Daycare ever again.

You do unfortunately still have to clean up the carnage left behind, though. You grab a broom and a dustpan, ready to sweep up the crumbled play-doh and ripped stuffing from earlier, back straightening with a sharp inhale when the lights cut off. Not terribly uncommon, but it still left you uneasy. Moon didn’t get to do his little song and dance during naptime because you were preoccupied punishing a rulebreaker, and you’re pretty sure he’s fixing to dish out his skewed idea of justice one way or another.

Lo and behold, the tell-tale click of a wire descending directly behind you gives away his intentions. 

“ Aww , thank you for defending our honor so nobly , little knight,” he croons mockingly. You don’t even have to turn in his direction to know he’s fanning his faceplate and fake swooning in a ‘my fair maiden’ pose. You say nothing, just sweeping stiffly under his suspended shadow and inspecting the floor. You’d have to bring out the vacuum for the carpet, plus a mop.

You miss his frown at your evident disinterest. 

“So brave, to come to our aid when we were utterly defenseless ,” he continues, picking a small bit of clay off your shoulder and flicking it aside. “But you know, you seemed to have forgotten what I told you earlier…”

He pauses, seemingly waiting for some response of probing to continue. If he is, he’ll be sorely disappointed. Though you’re usually the one after them for conversation, you’re in no mood for it after the day-no, the week, the whole damn month , really- you’ve had. You just want to go home, take a shower, and sleep for an eternity. 

His frown grows further in distaste, and he decides to grab your attention by gripping your shoulders tightly and lifting you a few inches off the ground. Your previously unfocused gaze now snaps to him, alert and on guard.

Wuh-oh.

That’s more like it.

“We do not need your help ,” he sneers, shaking you by the front of your shirt. You blink and gulp nervously, unsure as to where this is coming from. You feel the worst of your nausea as he starts to raise you towards the ceiling with you hanging onto his wrists tightly.

“Moon…” you speak warningly, a shot of nervousness streaking through you as the ground grows further away. His only response is a sadistic chuckle, and the delicately crafted facade over your sickness accumulating from over the past few weeks worsens exponentially. Your stomach lurches and you hazard a quick glance down. You’re hanging a good thirty feet above the ballpit and still steadily climbing, and judging by the glint in your captor’s eyes, you’re not going to like where this is headed.

It’s safe to panic now.

“Moon, stop it, that’s enough,” you tell him, voice wavering. After no response, you try again. “Moon, that’s enough, put me down.” Silence. “That’s enough , drop it!”

He stops for a second, grin falling a little before returning full force. “Well, if you insist ,” he laughs darkly. 

Your eyes widen and for a moment, nothing happens. Then he yanks your hands off him and lets go, watching you plummet to the ground with sinister glee.

Then, you’re falling.

You think you scream, you can’t tell. You crash into the ballpit right after, but it doesn’t cushion your fall. You hiss immediately on impact, clenching your fists and curling in on yourself. The plastic balls dig into your spine, sending waves of pain throughout your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you don’t dare open them lest you see that face looming over you. You do a quick check-over, wiggling your toes and bending your joints weakly. Somehow, nothing is broken, but you can’t tell over the searing pain in your side. You thought it was bad before, but that was nothing compared to now. The dull ache is burning, setting your nerves on fire with as much as a twitch. Your back is in a similar shape, as are your legs. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that before Moon’s shadow looms over you from the side of the pit. He makes some stab at you that you don’t really process over the ringing in your ears. Existing hasn’t taken such a toll on you before. His voice still carries into the white noise. You manage to get your mouth moving again and whisper, voice crackling, “Knock it off, Moon.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t let up on his teasing, and you vaguely register his response. “Oh, poor little worker can’t take a tumble. Too weak to pick yourself back up again? Not that I see much of a difference. You’ve always got your head down, ballpit or that desk you laze at. Best to let the ‘bucket of bolts’ do the work, hm ?”

You say nothing, not finding the idea of lifting your head and entertaining his little act worth it in your state. You remain limp in the ballpit, knees hugged to your chest in fetal position.

You hear him step closer to you, and jerk slightly when blue digits dig into your shoulders to pull you up. A cry of pain erupts from you at the fingers embedding themselves in your shoulder blades. They retract quickly as if burned by a pot sitting too long on the stove, as if this was the first time they’ve ever felt such heat before. Your severe pain and slightly depressive state dissipates momentarily and is instead replaced with white-hot anger that threatens to bubble over.

You slap his hand away and shout, “It’s not funny, Moon, knock it off! ”

He freezes, hands twitching in the air. His optics flicker, narrowing as he reaches back out to capture you once out. You smack his wrist again and ignore the added pain of striking metal. 

You stagger out of the ballpit, standing on shaky legs. You don’t give him a chance to speak before you start up again. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? You dropped me from 50 feet up, I could’ve died ! What did I even do to you?”

His faceplate turns in a silent half-rotation before he shrugs.

Oh no he did not . 

You explode, gesturing wildly as his simple movement spurs you on. “So what, you just don’t like me and decided to fucking throw me off the balcony like some- some doll for you to mess around with?! Pfft, yeah sure, that makes sense! Let’s just drop someone from 40 feet ‘because we don’t like them’! Wow, Moon, I can see how you guys got your position with that logic !”

“Oh wait! ” you spin around sharply, a manic grin on your face that seems to twist every meek and modest feature on your face as you continue on. “That’s why I’m here! Because for all your hard work, Management still decided to shove me into this hellhole! And it doesn’t mean much, it’s Management, they don’t mean anything, but hey , guess what? I never wanted to be here, but surprise-surprise, no one wants to hire a nobody who didn’t push through their degree except a shady company with a world record in OSHA violations and an even bigger death toll! So here I am, getting paid 30 dollars an hour to deal with your ungrateful asses for five hours a day, not to mention the ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime of three to five EXTRA hours I dedicate to this sorry place, all without a single day off in the past six months that I have worked here, each of which have been filled with your non-stop harassment and shitty attitude, which for some bizarre reason I haven’t reported yet! So why, pray tell, have you been dead set on punishing me for a crime I have yet to commit? What did I even do to you?” 

It’s a trap. Moon knows it’s a trap, but he refuses to let you get away with such slander on his turf. He rolls his eyes and huffs, “ Oh, please , you aren’t nearly as victimized as you make yourself out to be. You slack off during playtime while Sun handles everything, you’re constantly snoozing away at your desk unless you oh-so graciously decide to grace us with a moment of your time, and sometimes you don’t even show up at all. I think we have much more of a right to type up a report than you ever will.”

Alright, that’s it- “Oh, really ? Alright, buster, don’t give me that shit, I know damn well what I’m worth. For the record, I do play with the kids - which, if I may remind you, is not in my job description- until sweet lil Sunny starts giving me a death stare for daring to intrude on his precious playtime. And I do pitch in around here, just as much if not MORE than you do! Guess what, cheesehead? I clean the ballpit. I order the food, I buy the supplies, bring the books, put the kids toys back together, organize a monthly schedule AND deal with your sorry asses,  so don’t be telling me how to do my job, got it ? And don’t start up about my breaks, cuz, huh , I wasn’t aware that a two minute break in the place of an hour’s worth of free time was against my contract! I take time off when I know I’m not needed so that I don’t keel over and leave you to deal with over 40 kids! And even with that, I’ve still never taken an actual sick day off the entire time I’ve worked here because I know this is how you’ll react! When was the last time I didn’t show up to work, huh?”

Moon is swift with his reply, almost anticipating the question. “Last month, you took nearly two weeks off without telling your supervisors,” he states triumphantly, as if this had somehow won him the argument.

Oh, this absolute idiot . 

His victorious grin falls slightly at your disbelieving laughter. “Two weeks?! I’ve been working here for six months and you’re hung up on two weeks ?! I’ll have you know that I did tell my supervisors-which you are not , by the way- that I would be out on unpaid sick leave. And I know they didn’t tell you about it because I knew exactly what would happen, and it did! I thought you could respect it and let it go , but apparently not, cuz  you can’t handle not sticking your obnoxiously pointed nose up someone’s business! And now I’m the nosy one!” Your voice grows louder, and you throw your arms out with a wide, dangerous gleam in your eyes. 

“You wanna know where I was? Why I was gone? Well guess what, Craterhead, I was in the hospital making sure my brother didn’t drop dead ! I had to make sure he didn’t flat line halfway through a surgery !”

Oh.

Oh no.

Moon’s eyes widen, regret flickering across his face for a second. He takes a small step back, retreating as you advance. A jab to the chest pulls him back to the present, and his optics narrow.

“But you don’t care about any of that, do you? All you care about is your stupid reputation and oh no, Sunny and Moony can’t have a human ruining everything, because that’s all this meatbag knows how to do! Oh no, poor Sunny and Moony!”

You watch his expression drop like a thermometer exposed to subzero temperatures, red optics pinpricks in a sea of black that threaten to overtake them, contracted pupils tensed like a rubber band about to snap. A spark of something, perhaps vindication, ignites within you, overshadowing the voice in the back of your mind that quietly warns you of what to come, to back down before it’s too late.

A pity your brother isn’t here to hold you back. 

Your voice drops dangerously low for a moment, a deathly whisper that somehow seeps fear into Moon’s systems more than your uncontrolled rage.“I bet you tried to break me, didn’t you, wanted to see me all battered and bruised with my tail tucked between my legs as I ran out of this godforsaken place. Oh, don’t act so surprised, we both knew you never liked me. You never liked me or the idea of someone coming along to jeopardize your position, your life’s purpose, the only thing you have ever been good for, and so you pushed, even when I went along with all your orders, all your demands and your stupid checkpoints and your stupid, stupid rules, pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn’t take it anymore, and here we are. Well, no more ! You knew there was a breaking point, you both did. Well, here it is, the final straw! Your hard work finally paid off, you’ve made me even more miserable than before, and for what? Is this what you wanted, Moon, Sun? Are you finally satisfied? ”

Moon is still in front of you, hands drawn to his chest, pupils watching fat drops roll down your cheeks and leave stained rivers on your skin as you smile that angry, heartbreaking, defeated smile that cuts through their wires like glass shards, words stabbing through his central processors and sending a jolt through them both. He wants to respond, wants to say something clever and leave you sputtering and defeated, but nothing comes to mind. He always has a retort, a comeback, a witty remark or a snarky comment to make you bend to their will, and yet this time he’s the one left grasping for straws. He’s speechless, voicebox pushing out low static as he struggles to formulate a reply. You don’t give him the time to, resuming with a steady confidence they’ve never seen in you before. This is a side of you that is unfamiliar to them. They don’t quite know what to make of it, and so they stay unwillingly silent as you answer your own question with an air of finality. 

“No, you’re not. And I’ll tell you why. This perfection that you’ve tried so hard to pin down? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but perfect is something even machines can’t accomplish, no matter how advanced or well-built they think they are. It never will be. You and Sun both think you’re oh-so-great and so far above lil ol’ me and my stupid human brain, but I think you forget that you’re just as bad as I am. I’ve seen the daycare reviews, boys, and trust me, they are not pretty. Our sweet little ball of Sunshine scared kids so bad with his pushiness that a good deal of them just didn’t come back, and you? Oh, you scared the shit out of kids, didn’t you? You left them shivering in their sleeping bags in fear of the very thing that swore to protect them. 

“So tell me”- you tilt your head, smile growing sickeningly sweet as your eyes squint upwards, hands poised together as you punctuate every syllable that leaves your lips - “What exactly do you think gives you any authority over me? How do you think you can protect anyone from me when you can’t even protect them from yourself?”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, the manic grin not leaving your face as you turn around to sweep over the daycare after the prolonged eye contact with burning red optics begins to sting your eyes. 

 “But hey!” you call out behind you with a laugh like shattered glass left on cold tile. “Don’t take my word for it. I’m just the dumb worker you had to boot cuz you didn’t want someone to steal the spotlight.”

You whip back around to give a final comment before catching a glimpse of Moon. His pupils are near non-existent, eyes dark and empty. His static grin is too wide, fingers too sharp, curling and uncurling. You freeze, words cutting to a halt, and you swear his grin grows wider.

“ R̶̻̘̃͂̈́͋́ ̶̢̛͇̠͔̤̥͉̜̖̫̰̬̬̝̓͛̾̅̓̑̌́͆̅̇̿̎͂̈́͘̕͠Ǘ̸̡̻͖̅̄̄̚ ̵͖̱͕̫̋̈́̀́͊̇̐̀̒̒̋͑̅̀͗̊́́̚̕͝N̵̘̰͓̹̖̘̦̪͂̓̎̅̊̀͘̕͜ ̶̡͕̙͖̟͍̼͙̠̺̹̦̘̙̘̠̏̾̿̏̂͜ͅ," he growls. 

It sends a chill up your spine, dousing your anger in fear. You don’t waste time waiting for him to start chasing. You’re already booking it across the Daycare and to the exit. 

You’re maybe 10 paces in when you hear him behind you, wire clicking and shooting him to the ceiling. You know it’s a losing battle, he could easily take you if he wanted to. He doesn’t though, not yet. It’s the chase he’s after.

You dare not turn to check behind you, instead running blindly in hopes of somehow managing to hide. Your logical reason tells you to just leave, but it’s drowned out by pure instinct to run, get away, danger-

Moon has a severe advantage and you both know it. He knows the area. Still, you foolishly blunder on, making a hard right that almost makes you trip before you stumble back up again. You’re lucky he doesn’t do this more often because man you are out of shape. He hasn’t chased you since the first two months, you’d thought these games were behind you.

You wheeze as you bump into a wall, barely managing to dodge a wet floor bot. You can’t keep this up much longer. Your heart’s been kicked into overdrive, beating at a rate you know isn’t normal. Distantly, pain tingles in your elbow, muffled by the adrenaline pulsing through you. You’re surprised you haven’t bumped into any of the GlamRocks. They may not like you, but it’s better than this. 

Maybe they’re patrolling different floors? They could be charging.

All at the same time.

Yeah…

You skid to a sudden stop. You were just here, weren’t you? Ugh, these hallways all looked the same. Your eyes dart around wildly, spotting the familiar Daycare entrance. The faces of golden statues are smiling down at you.

You can’t recall a time where that’s happened to you before. 

Your eyes dart around for some place to hide, landing on a closet. You hear jingling bells in the distance.

You silently pray there aren’t any spiders before shutting yourself inside, leaving the door open just a crack for a sliver of light. 

It’s not a terribly big closet. There’s maybe enough room for you to stand upright. You sit with your knees tucked under your chin, eyes never leaving the door. Just in time. The wire descends and detaches, two feet coming into view. They pad softly on the cold tile, making no noise as he prowls for his prey. 

A shadow in front of the door.

You hold your breath, freezing and throwing a hand over your mouth.

A pause.

His attention is shifted elsewhere. He grumbles and stalks off, leaving you in  the dark. 

You wait maybe thirty seconds for the footsteps to grow silent before exhaling softly and taking stock of your situation. You’re stuck in a broom closet at work and the only other worker here tonight just left. 

Not that Moon would be of any help , you thought bitterly. He just wants you out of the way.

You can’t really blame him for that , though, can you ?

The thought almost sets you off the edge, but you reign yourself in, letting go of a self-deprecating laugh and wiping the tears that form in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t help. New ones replace them and you let your hands fall back into your lap.

No. No, you couldn’t blame them for it. You invaded their space and made a mess of things. You have a habit of doing that.

That’s why you left, after all. You couldn’t handle messing that up , either.

A shaky sob escapes you, and you press your palms to your eyes to stop the flow of tears trickling down your face. You need this job, you can’t lose it. If you lost it, you’d have no other options. You’d be out of house and home, and then what? Go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

No. You couldn’t go back.

What other choices did you have?

It didn’t matter, anyway. At the end of the day, nothing would change. You were still you, and something always goes wrong no matter what you do. Didn’t matter how hard you tried or how fair it was, it’s always the same.

Sometimes you wonder if everyone would’ve been better off had your brother been an only child.

A soft buzzing in your pocket snaps you out of your episode. You fish your phone out in surprise. That’s right, you’d put it there after this morning.  It vibrates in your hand, the caller ID flashing across the screen. It’s your mother. You stare at it dumbly, making no move to answer it. You’re half tempted to just let it ring till she gives up and drops it as always, but…

You need something to keep the quiet at bay right now.

Swiping to start the call, you hear shuffling over the static and put the speaker close to your ear. A short “hello?” is heard and repeated as she tries to figure out how to use the brick in her hand.

The act is familiar and you manage a watery smile. “Hi, mom.”

“Can you hear m-oh, good, you’re there. Your brother said you messaged him this morning and we just wanted to check in.” Her tone shifts. “You okay there?”

You don’t think you can pull off pretending that you’re fine at the moment. You sniffle into the receiver, curling further in on yourself. “I’m okay, I just…I just had a bad day at work.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”she sighs, and you wince slightly, not really feeling up to whatever questions she has to ask. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head before remembering that you’re on the phone, instead muttering a quiet ‘no’ into the speaker. She stays uncharacteristically silent on the other side of the line, her subtle shifting of the phone the only indicator that she’s still on the call. You know she wants to pry further, force an answer out of you. Sometimes, you almost wish she did, wish she pushed just a bit harder so you could finally break and let it all out.

She doesn’t this time though, puttering out a soft sigh. “Well…alright. Just remember, we’re always here if you need us. Your brother’ll probably check on you anyway, you know how he gets. Just don’t let him burn the building down for your sake.”

A wet snort slips past you before you catch it, imagining your anarchist brother expressing his rage against the machine and corporate capitalism by burning down a rip-off Chuck-E-Cheese. You didn’t think your mother was capable of creating an image like that, either. She hadn’t exactly been very invested in either of your interests. You wonder if she’s been taking pointers from your brother. 

You wave the thoughts aside, realizing you’ve let the conversation taper off and…

You suppose you can let this phone call end on a higher note. You both sort of need it anyway.

“Thanks, mom,” you whisper coarsely, leaning against the stacked boxes and letting your head fall back.

“Of course, dear. You just call us back when you’re ready. Oh, and try to tag along with your brother sometime, it gets lonely without you there. You were much better at listening to his mechanical jargle than we are.”

You exchange a few more quiet answers before wishing her a good night and hanging up, squinting at your brightly lit phone in the dark space. The time reads a little past 10. Moon’s first round of patrols is likely finished, which means it’s finally safe to leave this cramped compartment. 

The door remains shut when you turn the knob.

You try for the handle again, rattling it with greater and greater intensity as your panic begins to build up to no avail. Your hands form fists, soon beginning to bang on the door, eyes wide and breathing erratic. Try as you might, it’s sealed like a tomb, effectively locked inside. 

No, no, no , this can’t be happening, not here, not now. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be in this dark, cramped closet at the end of some forgotten corridor, stashed with all the boxes and cleaning supplies. 

Your brother had locked you into a closet once. Flipped the switch on the outside and left you alone to battle the demons you couldn’t see. It had been funny, back then, until you started screaming and begging to be let out.

It wasn’t funny now.

You drop to the floor, hands sliding down the wood to lay limply beside you. You can feel yourself shaking, bones rattling as you tremble. Your lungs burn with the force of the rapid inhale-exhale pattern you struggle to keep stable, your heartbeat pounding at the front of your head. Inhale, exhale, thump, thump, inhale, thump -oh, weren’t you supposed to exhale first- thump -and your heart’s not pumping, you can’t breathe, you need to breathe -

You gasp, head reeling, nails digging into your palms and leaving red marks. You struggle to ground yourself, forcing your eyes to focus on the sliver of light from under the doorframe. You inch back, still trembling lightly, staring blankly at the floor as the cold reality dawns on you.

You’re trapped.

No one is here to save you now.

Aaaaand that's a wrap! Hope yall enjoyed that lil chapter, seems like our y/n's gotten into quite a pickle! It's okay, though, they needed some time to process anyways. Speaking of which, Sun and Moon have a LOT to think about... Not sure when I'll post chapter 9, sorry! I have a couple of short snippets planned out already, but typing and connecting them is a whole other matter, so I dunno when I'll get back to this. Until then, however, I hope this is enough, and unfortunately...

The theater is closed...

[pochapal]

happy october 5, 1986 (+37)!

i do not have a full writeup done yet because i have been busy with starting my phd and contracting diseases and surviving horrors and rotating abstract concepts in my mind etc etc etc but what i do have is a hot off the press raw and rough preview of the chapter 14 writeup to share with you all in order to celebrate umineko day in some form regardless.

so, on this day of slaughter i am sharing with you a small slice of my writeup: the 3rd and 4th twilights that could have been had chapter 14 decided not to go crazy go stupid with it. i hope this is a tasty appetizer to satiate everybody as i continue to work on bringing the full writeup to completion.

happy umineko day and thanks to everyone for supporting the liveblog so far! <3

[...] This leads you to an immediate conclusion: Kanon dying in the basement boiler room was not part of the plan. Or, not part of the Witch Narrative at least. His death marks a point where this scheme has totally gone off the rails, and Genji’s script has been rendered worthless. The presentation of the death is obfuscated, but the truth beneath it is that something went deeply wrong that shouldn’t have.

This is a bold claim I’m making, but I also think I have enough proof in the story to substantiate it. I think, going by everything, the next incident following the deaths of Eva and Hideyoshi was to involve the basement in one form or another. I also think that this was being prepared in parallel with the Second Twilight – Genji and Nanjo leave the kitchen at the same time as Kanon and Kumasawa, but the two men don’t reach the scene until after Kanon has already unlocked the room and Eva and Hideyoshi have been found dead with the stakes in their skulls. Enough time to, say, take a trip down to the basement and set some dominoes in motion.

As to what I think was part of the Witch Narrative, I think everything was on track right up until the moment Kanon set foot in the basement. The foul smell filling the hallway was almost certainly set in motion by Genji and/or Nanjo (perhaps by turning on the boiler while Eva and Hideyoshi were being found in order to time it to make the smell the strongest at the perfect time – this may also have precluded moving Kinzo’s body there depending on where he was before now). Kanon acting bizarrely freaked out was part of the plan. As was Kumasawa screaming about hearing a noise, and the two of them breaking off from the group to rush ahead to investigate. Everything falls apart when Kanon sets foot in the basement and Beatrice shows up and he dies.

So what was the intended plan in the basement involving Kinzo? I think, if I were to hazard a guess based off pre-existing patterns, the boiler room in the basement was going to be used as another locked room, this time featuring Kinzo. I think this would have been a play in two acts. The first act would have Kanon and Kumasawa chase the noise to the basement and “find” the head’s ring on the ground. The family would search the boiler room and find the back door exit locked up, and no sign of Kinzo anywhere in sight (there would be efforts taken to keep anyone from investigating the boiler). The ring alone on the ground in an empty room would stand in for the Third Twilight – Kinzo is without his headship and authority, so it must therefore fall to everyone to praise Beatrice’s noble name in his stead. Dissatisfied and creeped out, everyone leaves the basement – the back door is locked from the inside, and the front door locked with a key placed in Natsuhi’s possession.

From here, this would likely have led to another discussion chapter about how the ring got there. The setup of the scene would be enough that Battler would question whether or not a nineteenth person placed the ring there, or if Kinzo himself actually dropped it there as part of some other ploy. The servants would be questioned and swear up and down there was nobody else in the basement when they entered. The sound would be discussed, as would the impossibility that anybody known to be alive could make that noise. The conversation would then turn to Kinzo as the likely suspect and Natsuhi, who’s been complicit in covering up Kinzo’s death for some time already, would start sweating as this truth grows closer to being uncovered. It’s up in the air as to whether or not the servants would help or hinder Natsuhi here, but I think it’s likely Battler would have started to think on Eva’s words from earlier. More fuel on the Natsuhi culprit fire that she can’t fight because she can’t admit to knowing what he knows. Maria would then laugh and go witchmode and say to everyone that this is obviously Beatrice manipulating things with her magic, and boom, scene.

Something would then happen in the next chapter to turn attention back to the boiler room. Perhaps the smell grows stronger. Perhaps the conversation about Kinzo grows to a fever pitch. Perhaps a servant fakes hearing another noise from the basement. Whatever the case, we would return to the boiler room a second time. There would be a point made of showing Natsuhi pulling out the only key to the boiler room and everyone stepping inside to find Kinzo’s body on the floor, burned up with an icepick stake in his forehead. The inner lock for the back door would still be set. Genji and Nanjo would confirm the body’s identity via the polydactyly. Somehow, Kinzo’s dead body appeared in the middle of a perfectly locked room.

Likely there would then be discussions of who could have killed Kinzo, given that at the time of his “death” everyone was yet again together (minus Kanon/Genji slipping in and out of the parlor to get food and drinks). The assumption would be that Kinzo was alive in there all along, and then killed himself for some reason – contradicted by the fact that if he launched himself into the boiler, how did he drag himself back out into the middle of the floor? The mystery would stump Battler, because the only major solution would be to assume a nineteenth person was also already hiding in the locked basement, and killed Kinzo and displayed the corpse, but Battler would chessboard himself out of leaning on that option. Out of options and stumped, we would stay at another stalemate where there’s no proof that Beatrice exists, but no way that the surviving humans could have set up this scene (there are of course ways, such as a back door that wasn’t really locked or a second key/master key with which to return to the boiler room and set things up, but nobody will think of them). The horrors would escalate. The Witch Narrative would persist. And so on. And so on.

This scenario, believable as it is, never came to happen. Instead we got what we got, and we need to figure out why. Why did Kinzo show up like this? Why did Kanon die, despite all known logic and reasoning stating that the contrary would be ideal? Why are things speeding up at such an exponential rate? What on earth is actually going on?

[luffysprincess]

Helloooooo Amira my princess! I am here to play your game if that’s alright?

For Kiribakumarq?

Three fun facts:

Eiji can instantly make me laugh no matter what by doing a near perfect Swedish chef from the muppets impersonation.

To relax, Katsu likes to rake his fingers through Eiji’s long hair. It’s like petting a cat to him I guess lol.

I’ve trained our dog Rex to greet the boys at the door by Giving them high fives. They cannot enter the house until they high five the dog.

Umm three things I love about me? Blahhhhhh ok

My humor. I’m funny as fuck.

My dimples. They are my favorite thing about me.

My fashion sense. My outfits slay. Daily. Lmao

OK BYE LOVE YOUUUU💖💖

a/n: text is color coded (sorry) and bolded for an easier reading experience (bc i was too lazy to properly write the dialogue)

“Before we start, I want to remind you two, Bakugo especially, that prior to this you signed a contract to not harm the interviewer, correct?”

“Great!,” the interviewer continues with a grin after seeing both heads nod in agreeance. “So first question: Who loves Marquie more?”

“THIS FUCKING BITC–”

“ –Woah hold it Kats,” Kirishima grits through his teeth, using his strength to pull Bakugo back down to his seat. “Keep it cool, man. It was probably meant as a joke.”

“Well…”

“Shut up. We both love Marquie equally.”

“Yeah, we used to fight about it in the beginning of our relationship, but we realized we’re both too whipped for her to care about fighting about it.”

“That’s sweet! What a lucky woman.”

“I’d say we’re,” Kirishima points his finger between him and Bakugo, “the lucky ones.”

“Hard agree, I’m jealous–”

“What? You better not make any moves on my woman.”

“Our woman, Kats.”

“Right.”

“–Anyways, next question: What do you love about her the most?”

“Oh I can go on and on about her. First, have you seen her smile? She’s got the cutest dimples. And when she wears glasses I just wanna kiss her so hard. Then there’s the way she bosses people around when she needs to. But she’s also so kind and warm–”

“He’s gonna talk your ear off for an hour. So I’ll keep it short. There’s really no one else like her. She’s got it all, looks, humor, strength, ass–”

“Wait sorry did you say ‘sass’ or ‘ass’ at the end there?”

“Both,” Bakugo smirks.

“Kirishima, are you with us?”

“Huh–oh sorry! I started thinking about her and got distracted ha ha.”

“Does that ever happen when you two are on patrol or fighting a villain?”

“Only a couple times”

“For who?”

“For the both of us.”

“Would you care to elaborate? When did this happen? Give us details!”

“It happened to me while I was patrolling. Was supposed to be walking around the Nakagin Capsule Tower but I saw a little girl dressed in a sunflower dress and I couldn’t help but think of Marquie, or rather a future with her. Found myself subconsciously walking to the flower shop four blocks down to buy her some flowers for when I returned home to her.”

“Aww did some baby making happen that night?”

“None of your damn business,” he replied. Meanwhile Kirishima had discreetly nodded his head yes.

“And what about you Kirishima?”

“For me, it happened when I was fighting that one ice villain. That battle took place in the mall, if you remember, and I happened to see a lingerie ad. Now those don’t affect me but then I started thinking about Marquie in that–I know, so not manly– but next thing I knew I was frozen in a block of ice.”

“You’re missing the best part of the story.”

“What part?”

“When they found him in the ice block, he still had an erection.”