#telling mitch to just SHOOT IT TO THE NET.

[3416]

Best of Auston Mic'd Up for NHL Mic Drop | 10.23.23

[snowballeclipse]

tell me all about ur fl4ne fankids i need to scout out if they could be friends with my wainlock fankids

Clint is The Hologram. Massive daddy's boy yet somehow nothing like his dad save for appearance. Clint's socially awkward, rarely swears and hates being forced into doing stuff w/o his prior knowledge. He originally used the mask to hide his face so he wouldn't be assassinated in his dad's stead while out and about but now it's kinda become part of his 'style' per se. His class mod is Zane's digiclone device, with a pin stuck in the top that keeps him active at all times.

Mitch's personality changes slightly depending on what's funniest, but he is consistently a Gamer who streams on Smackdown (Echo-net equivalent of Twitch that's owned by Hyperion). His exact personality is usually some variant of either Jerma, RTGame, Scott the Woz, or Generic Asshole Gaming Influencer. Used to go on bounty runs w/ dad until Mitch lost his right arm (he now has a cybernetic replacement that's modeled after old 'clear plastic' tech). Before quitting, he had a shoulder cannon. He's also trans like his dad. Just though I should put that out there.

Bea's a transfemme enby who's timid and struggles w/ loud noises but likes bugs, their parents, and talking to Hammerlock. They're mostly friendly but Will Shoot if they think you're a threat. As for abilities, they can make a beehive barrier around themself as a form of protection. When sad, they often go to Fl4k for comfort because they (Bea) like the robot's pets.

Zoey's the mechanical nerd autist /silly. She likes making metal things that move and shooting stuff until it stops moving. She has a pair of custom-made wings that allow her to fly short distances (but it's usually just to avoid using ladders). She's stolen tools from Moze and Ellie before.

[zackcollins]

love you like there’s no tomorrow || mitch marner

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi! I know it’s been a while and I apologize for that. I’ve just been in a rough spot mentally so I’ve been having a difficult time focusing on writing. The words haven’t really been flowing, ya know? I’ve been having a better time focusing on playing video games because that numbs my mind more and makes me have to think less and less about what’s going on around me. Anyways... I hope that didn’t feel too real for anyone or depress them too much. sorry if it did. I didn’t mean to upset you. GIF credit to naivelystan!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything. But feel free to let me know if you disagree. As always, I’ll happily add a warning for something if you feel something needs to be warned about!

Word Count: 3.6k+

Title: Nobody by Dylan Scott

Additional: Even though the reader is portrayed as being a goaltender for the Leafs, they are gender-neutral! This is my fic and I do what I want. I hope you guys are okay with that. Enjoy this and let me know if you have any ideas for future fics. My ask box is always open for requests!

It was a television timeout nearing the end of the third period. You had skated over to the bench to see if the goalie coach had any advice for you. When he shook his head at your asking, you nodded in approval and turned to your teammates. 

 Mitch, who was sitting right in front of you, immediately pointed behind his goaltender. You lifted your mask and turned to see what was there. You saw a couple of the in-arena employees looking at you, both of whom quickly turned away when they noticed that you were looking at them. You weren't certain but you thought you saw a blush rise on one of their cheeks.

 You raised an eyebrow as you turned back to Mitch.

 “What was that about?” You asked. You took your bottle out of your glove and squirted it over your face, shaking off the excess liquid. 

 “What do you mean ‘what was that about?’” Mitch asked, looking at you quizzically. “The in-arena staff look at you all the time.”

 “I mean, yeah? I do play on this team.”

 Hutch reached over and swatted you with his glove. You looked over at the other goaltender and frowned. “What was that for, Hutch?”

 “They look at you because you’re attractive, you idiot,” Hutch said, rolling his eyes. “That girl Mitch pointed out was talking to her friend about asking you out for drinks after the game.”

 You felt your face heat up as you skated back to the crease. You glanced over to where the girls had been. When you met their gaze, one of them winked at you and the other waved and smiled toothily. You did your best to smile in return but you were fairly certain it came across as awkward or goofy. You certainly knew that your stomach felt awkward or goofy from that exchange, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint if it was from excitement or from the strange look you could see on Mitch’s face as he lined up for the faceoff to your left. Sighing, you pushed those feelings aside and focused on tracking the puck after Edmonton won the draw.

 The puck cycled along the boards for a few minutes, leaving your teammates hemmed in their zone for a long shift. You heard T.J. say something about how he had been out there for close to two minutes and that everyone else was in a similar boat. You took a deep breath and leaned around Leon, Alexander, and Joe to try to see the puck where Tyson had it at the point. Alexander tapped your left pad, which was the telltale sign that the shot was coming to that side. You mumbled a quick thanks as you readied yourself in the crease. 

 When the shot came, it hit Joe’s ankle and shifted to the right. You stretched your pad and goal stick in that direction hoping that either would make contact with the puck. You looked over after a moment and noticed that the play had continued on to the corner boards. You blinked as you assumed proper positioning to watch the play progress.

 ice save.” You glanced over your shoulder and noticed the referee, Graham Skilliter, standing behind the net. “That’ll make some highlight reels for the next month or so.”

 “Oh,” You said, shifting to the other side of the net to follow the play. “Thanks, bud. It must’ve hit my stick because I didn’t realize I saved it.”

 Edmonton turned the puck over to Hyman who tried to exit the zone but got Tyler Ennis’ stick directly to the skates. He fell and the puck instead skittered over to Mitch who passed it back to Justin, who was standing only about five or six feet in front of your goal crease.

 “I’m sure there'll be a replay on the Jumbotron in about two seconds. Furlatt is calling Ennis for a trip as soon as Edmonton touches the puck again.”

 You nodded and not two seconds later Eric Furlatt blew his whistle because Ethan Bear had touched the puck. You turned to grab his bottle, taking a quick squirt through the cage on your mask. When you turned back around, you glanced up at the Jumbotron. The save was replayed from three different angles, all of which made it look more impressive than the last. You felt a small sense of pride wash over you as you shifted your attention from the video to the score clock. It told you that there were barely over three minutes left in the game. You took a deep breath and readied yourself, even though the faceoff was in Edmonton's end of the ice.

 As soon as the puck dropped, Wayne cycled it around to Jason who passed it back to T.J. T.J. toed the blueline for a moment before he found a lane to shoot. The red light behind Mike Smith lit up and the powerplay unit swarmed T.J. at the sideboards. You banged your stick against the ice a few times as you watched everyone skate down the bench for their fist bumps. T.J. skated over to you, tapping both of your pads with his stick.

 "Figured you needed a goal to win the game," T.J. said, chuckling. "Can't finish a game nill, nill. This isn't soccer."

 You tapped the seat of T.J.'s pants with your goal stick, smiling and chuckling. "Thanks there, bud. I'll do my best to make it count."

 T.J. smiled, leaning in to press his helmet against yours. "That's all any of us ask, bud. For you to try your best. We love you regardless. Mitch especially. I hope you know that."

 A large knot had formed in your throat so all you could do was nod and smile weakly; you hoped that T.J. found that sufficient enough thanks. When T.J. smiled and squeezed your shoulder, you got your answer.

 "What's…" you coughed, clearing your throat. "What's taking them so long to drop the puck?"

 "Smith tweaked something in his knee and needed the training staff to go attend to him."

 "T.J.! (Y/N)! We're ready!" Bogosian called from somewhere behind them.

 "Remember, we're proud of you." T.J. tapped his helmet against yours one last time before skating back to the bench.

 As you readied yourself in the net, you swallowed every emotion that had surfaced during that conversation with T.J. You didn't need to have a breakdown about this right now. Not while you were trying to preserve a 1-0 lead with two minutes fifty-eight seconds left in the game. You could have a breakdown about this when you were in the comfort of your bed at home.

 The last two fifty-eight went by in a blur. You couldn't even tell anyone anything that happened, save for the fact that Edmonton didn't score. How they didn't score, you didn't know. You were almost on autopilot because of how unsuccessful you had been at trying to push your emotions aside. They had crept back in and they were all you were thinking about, no matter how much you should've been focusing on the game. But you were only human. And humans aren't always going to be one hundred percent invested in their job, no matter how much they love it.

 When the team swarmed you at the end of the game, you felt overcome with emotions. It had been an incredibly long time since hockey had made you have such positive overwhelming feelings. Being with Toronto was more than you could've ever hoped for. They loved you more than you could've ever hoped for; you loved them more than you could've ever hoped for. You and the Toronto Maple Leafs were a match made in Heaven.

 "(Y/N), hey," Mitch said, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Why're you crying, bud?"

 "Hmm?" You mumbled, only half tuned into your surroundings. "What was that, Mitchy?"

 "Crying. Why're you doing it?"

 "I'm no--" you stopped when you realized that your eyes were watering and leaking. "Oh. I guess I am, aren't I?"

 "Is everything okay? You're, like, the most brave dude ever. Seeing you crying makes me want to cry." Mitch frowned, grabbing your glove as you both skated off the ice.

 Once you both were down the tunnel, Mitch led you into the empty trainer's room, closing the door behind you. You sat in one of the office chairs and Mitch knelt in front of you, sliding his gloves off and placing them at your feet. Mitch hovered his hands over your pad straps and glanced up at you; you removed your helmet before nodding your approval.

 As Mitch unlaced the straps, you slid your hands out of your glove and blocker. You placed them in your lap, running a hand through your hair and shaking it loose of sweat when it came out.

 Mitch moved your pad off, placing it on the ground to his left. He moved his hand down to your skate, carefully working on unlacing the boot.

 "I asked you a question, ya know," Mitch said without looking up.

 "You did?" You replied, genuinely confused. "I must've zoned out between getting off the ice and now because I don't remember what it was."

 Mitch patted your knee before he slid your skate off. He placed the skate sideways on top of the pad before moving his attention to the straps of your other pad.

 "I'm not mad at you. You did look really out of it." Mitch fumbled with one of the straps, cursing sharply as he tried to unlace it. When it finally came unlaced, Mitch flipped it off and stuck his tongue out at it. "Fuck you, you stupid strap."

 You scoffed and kicked Mitch with your socked foot. Mitch looked up and stuck his tongue out at you.

 "This is why I never became a goalie," Mitch mumbled as he went back to unlacing the straps. 

 A few moments passed, filled only by Mitch cursing obscenely at your pad straps. Once the last strap was unlaced and the pad was off and to Mitch's side, Mitch puffed his chest before reaching down to start unlacing your other skate.

 "Anyways. I asked you before if everything was alright. You were crying and you never cry."

 You swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair.

 "Ye… Yeah. I'm grand, bud," you said, though you knew even a dead man could hear that you were lying.

 Mitch looked up, pursed his lips, and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

 "Ye… no. No, I'm not sure." You slouched in the chair, dropping your head into your hands. "A few things that happened in the period confounded me at the end there."

 Mitch placed your skate sideways on your other pad before he stood from his kneeling position. He motioned his hands up a couple of times. You got the hint, raising your arms above your head. Mitch grabbed your helmet, glove, and blocker and placed them on one of the pads. When he turned back to you, he lifted your jersey over your head, draping it over the back of the chair. Mitch then unhooked your chest protector and dropped it atop your goalie pads. Once all of your equipment was out of the way (save for your pants), Mitch sat in your lap and wrapped his arms around your neck. You swallowed a nervous breath as you wrapped your arms around Mitch's midsection.

 "Care to share what those things were?" Mitch asked, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "I'm willing to listen to whatever the problem is."

 You nodded, clearing your throat. "After Hutch said that girl wanted to ask me for drinks, I made eye contact with her and her friend on my way back to the crease." You felt Mitch's heartbeat falter a little. To compensate for that, you ran your hands slowly along Mitch's ribcage. "Something weird fluttered in my stomach. I'm just not sure if it was from her winking and her friend waving or from you looking like you wanted to murder someone after seeing what they did."

 "Mmm," Mitch mumbled, his heartbeat faltering a little more. "I know what I want the answer to be."

 You ignored Mitch and continued with your explanation. "Then, at the end of the period, I was overcome by the fact that there's no place I'd rather be than in Toronto." Mitch's heartbeat began to even out a little after you said that. You hummed as you reached up and unlatched Mitch's helmet, sliding it off and dropping it at Mitch's feet. You pressed a soft kiss on Mitch's forehead; Mitch's heartbeat suddenly spiked again. You brought your hands down and ran them softly along Mitch's ribcage. "You guys all love me more than I could've ever hoped for; I love you guys more than I could've ever hoped for."

 "Some more than others." Mitch's voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. His heartbeat had taken to a sporadic beat, almost as if he was nervous or scared of something.

 "What is that--" you started.

 "What did T.J. tell you?" Mitch cut you off, lifting his head to look at his goaltender.

 "Oh, uh…" you mumbled. "All anyone could ask of me was that I tried my best. And that everyone loves me. You especially. But what does--"

 Mitch's only response was to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. You startled but made no move to push Mitch away. The kiss only lasted a few moments before Mitch pulled back and swatted the back of your head.

 "That. That's what it has to do with anything."

 You felt your entire face and the tips of your ears burn red-hot as you sat there and looked at Mitch. Mitch rolled his eyes and patted your cheek

 "(Y/N), Christ," Mitch said, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck. "I've been flirting with you for months. How have you not noticed yet?"

 "Flirting with me for months…?" You replied, scratching your chin. "Since when?"

 Mitch giggled, vibrating against you. "Every morning when I bring you your coffee."

 "But you--"

 "No, I really don't," Mitch mumbled. "I only bring everyone else coffee after they've asked me to. I bring you your coffee when I buy mine on the way to the arena because I know your order by heart."

 "T-"

 "Two sugar, oat milk, caramel and hazelnut shots. Yeah., bud, I know."

 You ran a hand through Mitch's hair, stopping briefly to soothe his scalp. Mitch hummed, nuzzling closer to you.

 "I know that you like your post-game shower to be exactly seventy degrees and not a degree warmer or colder."

 "Mitchy, I--"

 "Not done yet."

 You promptly shut your mouth and returned to soothingly running your hands along Mitch's ribcage.

 "I know basically nothing makes you angry. Save for people that don't know how to use their signals properly when they're driving."

 "Pisses me off to no end."

 "I know, bud. I know," Mitch mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck. "You also laugh like a moron at those stupid cat videos on YouTube. And just stupid things cats do in general."

 You chuckled, running a hand through Mitch's hair. "Cat people see cats doing stupid things and we have to laugh. It's the law. Sue me if you don't like it."

 "I never said I didn't like it, you goober."

 "Yeah, yeah Mitchy."

 Mitch hummed, squeezing you tightly. You smiled and squeezed back. Mitch wiggled around a little and hummed some more. He huffed a breath after a moment and curled in on himself. He mumbled something that you didn't hear, prompting you to card your fingers through Mitch's hair.

 "What was that, baby?" You asked, pressing a kiss to Mitch's temple.

 "Said I was gonna love you until the good Lord comes to collect us."

 You froze, staring down at Mitch. "You… you don't even believe all that strongly in God, Mitch."

 "You're right, but I believe that you believe. And that's good enough for me."

 "Mitch, I--"

 "I said I loved you, by the way. Or did you miss that?"

 "Wha…? Oh! Yeah! Sorry," you said, distantly. "It's been a while since I've been someone. Sorry if I'm rusty."

 Mitch chuckled, his breath tickling your neck. "It's fine, (Y/N). I knew it had been a while. That's why I didn't come right out and tell you how I felt. I wanted you to figure it out on your own so you could have enough time to decide if you were ready to date again."

 "Mitch…" you trailed off after your words caught in your throat. You took a moment to gather yourself before continuing. "Of course I'm ready to date again. Nobody is ever gonna love me as you do, baby. You already love me more than my last few partners."

 Mitch sniffled, wiggling around in your lap. You ran your hands along Mitch's ribcage and pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's okay, baby. You're safe with me."

 "I'm gonna love you the only way I know how, (Y/N)," Mitch mumbled, his voice strained at wet. "And that's by doing actionable things. Like bringing you your coffee every morning. Or remembering what temperature you like your post-game shower."

 "Whatever you need to do, I'm okay with. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy."

 Mitch let out a sigh that was soon followed by soft, even breaths that sounded like snoring. You ran your hands along Mitch's hipbone and whispered sweet nothings into his temple. Mitch huffed but didn't awaken. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss where you had been whispering. Mitch mumbled nonsense and smiled in his sleep. A small smile washed across your face as you continued to run your hands along Mitch's hipbone.

 Mitch had been asleep in your lap for ten or fifteen minutes when the door of the trainers' room swung open. Justin was standing on the other side, a relieved look on his face.

 "There you tw--" Justin started.

 Mitch huffed, shifting in your lap. You looked up at Justin and gave him a death glare.

 "Quiet. He's sleeping," you said, voice hushed but stern.

 Justin chuckled, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. "Does that mean you finally got your head out of your ass and noticed that Mitch is in love with you?"

 You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "How many of you knew?"

 "Literally everyone. Except you. Even T-Bear knew. And he's an Oiler now."

 You shook your head and chuckled weakly. "For a goalie, I have a hard time seeing what's right in front of me."

 T.J. appeared beside Justin and smiled triumphantly. "There you are! Keefe is going crazy looking for you and--" T.J. paused and blinked when he noticed what was really in front of him. "Keefe told me Mitch would be with you. But did I believe him? No. Idiot, I am."

 "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled. "I finally got my head outta my ass so Mitch and I are dating now."

 "We… we are…?" Mitch chimed in, his voice groggy from sleep.

 You looked down at Mitch and kissed his forehead. "Yes, baby. We are. I'm gonna love you like there's no tomorrow."

 Mitch lit up as he reached up and grabbed your face to pull you in for a kiss. You smiled into the kiss, holding onto Mitch's jersey for traction. When you both pulled apart, Justin and T.J. were smiling softly at you from the doorway.

 "We'll tell Keefe we found you," T.J. said, turning around. "But we'll also tell him that our starting goalie and Mitch finally unstuck their heads from the holes in their asses so they need some private time."

 "Th… thanks, Teej," you said, your face and the tips of your ears burning red-hot.

 T.J. turned back long enough to smile before walking away. Justin watched him walk away before he turned back to you and Mitch. He smiled fondly at you both as he pushed off of the door frame.

 "I should get back too," Justin said, motioning over his shoulder. "I don't need Keefe mad at me next." He smiled as he took two steps down the hallway.  "Just know everyone--myself included--is proud of you for tonight's game, (Y/N). You did amazing." Justin walked away but stopped just before the end of the hallway and turned around. "Congratulations on the relationship as well. Everyone is gonna be so stoked for you two.."

 "Thanks, Hollsy," you and Mitch mumbled at the same time as you both watched Justin walk away.

 Once Justin was out of sight, Mitch looked up at you and smiled fondly. You looked down at Mitch and returned the fond smile. You both stared into each other's eyes for a few moments just gazing at the fondness and pure emotion you could each see staring back at the other. When you both looked away, you brought one of your hands up and cupped Mitch's chin, tilting it up and bringing your lips together with Mitch's.

 While they kissed, you felt your entire world coming together. You were happy in Toronto because you loved everyone here more than you could've possibly imagined. Because you loved Mitch more than you could've possibly imagined. You were happy here because everyone loved you more than you could've possibly imagined. Because Mitch loved you more than you could've possibly imagined.

 Everything about Toronto was perfect because everything about Toronto involved Mitch. Mitch was everything to you. You were willing to admit that. Even if it had taken you a while to realize that in the first place. 

 Mitch was everything to you and you were going to love him like there was no tomorrow.

[colony22games]

NON-LIVEPLAY GAMES, MARCH 2163 - ‘Double Trouble’

OBJECTIVE: “DOUBLE TROUBLE” is a LAST TWO STANDING, ‘Hunger Games’ style game and will commence at sunrise. Survivors will begin the game as every individual for themselves, at the edge of the gaming grounds. When the starting horn sounds, survivors may choose to take a chance at The Hoard for weapons and resources, or head straight for the woods. Forming alliances is recommended, but remember, alliances are temporary and can change. 

TEAMS: None. 1 vs. All, Personal Alliances only.

WEAPONS: This game will include ALL COLONY-APPROVED TRAINING WEAPONRY. Players begin the game without arms, but may obtain them at The Hoard or at hidden caches around the gaming grounds.

*HIT LIMIT: 1   *KILL LIMIT: 1

KILL PROTOCOL: SURRENDER; Participants who reach Kill Limit are immediately eliminated and must report back to the games staging area.

ADDITIONAL RULES AND INFO:

⚒The game will commence in a clearing at the edge of the gaming grounds, with the treeline ahead (NE). In the clearing, to the SE, will be The Hoard, a large resource and weapon supply. At the start of play, participants may choose to run for it first, or bypass it and head to safety. 

⚒Personal alliances may consist of 2 to 5 participants from any house. They must never exceed 5 players. Alliances are based on an honour system; there are no official rules against targeting an ally. 

⚒’Sponsor Kits’ can be found hidden throughout the grounds. If an individual receives a hit but has a Sponsor Kit, they may use it to remain in the game. Sponsor Kits are metal cylinders about ten inches long and 3 inches in diameter, and contain a cloth bandage which can be tied at or around the point of the recent hit. Sponsor Kits are one time use only; when the seal is broken, a vial of dye will shatter and soak into the white bandage to indicate its use.

⚒The winning pair may be from the same house, or different houses. Throughout the game, an individual’s achieved kills earn points towards their respective houses, and the winners will get to keep these for their house, plus an extra 250 points.  In the case of winners from two different houses, both houses will receive their respective earned house points, plus 250 for the win. 

⚒All PDD messaging capabilities have been disabled for the Games. They function only to receive notifications.

CHECK BELOW THE CUT FOR GAME RESULTS AND HIGHLIGHT SUMMARY!

                                “Bloodbath” - the First Hour

When the horn blares, about half the games participants head straight for the cover of the trees, while the others book it to The Hoard: the huge weapons stash in the clearing. Charlie Essex and JR are among this group. JR gets there first, quickly holstering two handguns, and is about to go for some grenades, when Charlie waves at him with a supply backpack in hand and they both run off. It’s not until they get deeper into the gaming grounds that they realize Charlie’s ‘bag of supplies’ is woefully empty. 

Back at the weapon stash, it’s still pandemonium. Draco Pavlović gives Mei Zhu Fitrei a bloody nose in a scuffle over a sniper gun. Alexander Donovan finds Annie Perrault hyperventilating behind a weapons rack, white knuckling a bow. He shoves a quiver into her hands and tells her to run, watching her back as she nervously complies. Meanwhile, Felix Turner and Rosalind Stein nearly collide going for the same bag of supplies. Rose is confident she can easily overpower Felix, until he starts literally shrieking like a maniacal banshee. His wordless wail makes for such an alarming scene, that she opts just to retreat. 

Underdogs, Constantin Lupei and Adrien Bennett decide they’ll start off the hour strong, and team up to ambush the next pair of people they see… which turn out to be Mei Zhu and Alex. This backfires dramatically, and Costin and Ajay are among the first half dozen players eliminated. Angel Thorne follows suit when he decides to simply walk off the gaming grounds. He is immediately disqualified. 

                                      “All for One…” - Hour 2

Hour two is the time to start forming alliances. Lake Valentine is travelling with Lissy McCall and Annie Perrault, but he dooms them all when he accidentally sets off an InertiaShell. They are all caught in the red vapour and slowed to a crawl. Annie passes out from the effects of the grenade and her usual exhaustion and while trying to wake her, Lissy and Lake become very easy targets when they get attacked by Caelan Whitmer and Arvo Covey. Annie, Lissy and Lake are all eliminated. 

Roy Walters hasn’t come across anyone he trusts to team up with, so resolves to lay low. He manages to steal a Sponsor Kit from Mitch Douglas when the elite isn’t looking, and then camouflages himself into some bushes. Meanwhile, Petra Starr convinces a handgun wielding Teilo Aisling not to shoot her, only to shoot him with his own weapon as soon as he agrees to the alliance. Orson Hurst, Maisie Pace, Mason Quinley and Mira Sigar come together to form an only slightly more promising lineup. 

Rosalind is fashioning an illegal slingshot up in a tree when she spots wifey Josephine Parker and quickly pairs up with her. As for Charlie and JR, despite their slightly disappointing start, they’ve stuck together and take out Emmanuel Trent as their first victim. 

                                          “Acclimating” - Hour 3

Bode Lindqvist has kept to himself but has proven resourceful. He is well armed and has already found a couple of Sponsor Kits. When Koda Payne and Clayton Boyd attack him with ranged weapons, he manages to evade them and escape unscathed. Orson is much less lucky, when he is briefly separated from his group and finds a stash of grenades that apparently Dylan Meir had also had her eye on. Orson grabs a couple tilt grenades, but his nerve-damaged hands spasm, and he drops one, setting it off. With Orson briefly incapacitated by the blue vapour, Dylan has plenty of time to shoot him with an arrow, grab the rest of the grenades, and take off. Nearby, another woman is kicking some nerd-boy ass; Charlotte Williams effortlessly picks off Kip, acquiring his Sponsor Kits. 

Koda and Clay try again to make an impact: they sneak up on JR and Charlie in the woods, only this time, they’ve thought it through and have set up traps in the area. They even manage to take out JR with a well-aimed arrow. Charlie then chases both Koda and Clay, firing his handgun as he goes. He eliminates Koda with a stim in the back, then lets off a wayward shot just as he bulldozes into one of the traps and falls to the ground. The weapon skids across the forest floor, but the last shot has caught Clay in the shoulder. Fortunately, the Delma has a Sponsor kit, which he uses to survive. He doesn’t have to go it on his own too long, however, as he runs into Corbin Ealy, who’s trying to evade a prowling Kaiser Bahr. They hide together (because fuck that noise), then decide to team up. 

Left alone after Kip’s elimination, Arvo stumbles across Enoch Lynch, while he is caught in hand to hand combat with Paxton Semenyuk, and steps in to help. She and Enoch form a new alliance (which we’d like to coin ‘NET’: Newbie Elite Transfers). Alois Van Asch, on the other hand, is a bit slow on the uptake, and has been wandering the grounds somewhat aimlessly, enjoying the (mostly) quiet of the woods. At one point he is spotted just gazing at the sky. 

                             “Imprudent Behaviour” - Hour 4

Fate, never a kind mistress, soon interferes with Bode’s chances. While he is distracted by an unfortunate issue with his hearing aids, Jo and Rosalind steal the weapons he’d set down and make a break for it. As they run, however, they encounter Dante Carrington; true to form, the Good Doctor puts rules first and disqualifies Rosalind for the illegal slingshot in her grasp. This is witnessed by Corbin and Clay, who were drawn in by the kerfuffle. Corbin reckons it would be hilarious to orchestrate an ambush against Colony 22’s biggest Tight Ass, and with Bode still nearby, it’d be like ‘taking biscuits from a baby’. Fortunately, it doesn’t take much convincing, and the three of them take Dante out without any issue. 

Meanwhile, Draco climbs high up into the branches of a tree, seeking a moment to formulate a plan. Aurelia Ferris chooses this particularly inopportune time to walk by, and she doesn’t even see who shot her. Diederick D’Mornay,  the perpetual gentleman, spots Anaya Dolman with a Sponsor Kit and doesn’t have any trouble liberating it from her. Emboldened by his success, he gives chase to a couple of other totally threatening Calysets: Mira and Maisie. In his hasty pursuit, he loses his footing and face-plants on the forest floor. 

Unlike Ricky, Petra Starr has a little moral fortitude. Alois has grown excruciatingly bored of the Games and asks Petra, (who has now paired up with housemate, Dylan) to just shoot him so he can go the fuck back inside and sleep; obviously this wouldn’t be the same as earning an elimination and would basically be cheating, so Petra declines.

After his temporary alliance with Clay and Corbin, Bode decides to roam alone again, which backfires when Madison Vega eliminates him quickly with a sniper. Persephone Evans and her bleeding heart take a moment to tend to a small injury Cambie Andrews has sustained, but they have to run when they spot Clove Modius and Benji Imes approaching.

                                        “Homestretch” - Hour 5

It’s the final countdown and about halfway through the fifth hour, we’re left with eight tiring finalists. Of these eight, seven of them are in two different alliances. The first such alliance is made up of Torren ladies, Ada Woollacott, Petra Starr, Dylan Meir and Charlotte Williams. The second is a group of egomaniac loudmouths: Corbin Ealy, Draco Pavlović and Diederick D’Mornay. Madison Vega is the eighth finalist, currently remaining a one-woman operation. 

Catching a glimpse of Charlotte through the trees, Draco splits off from his group to chase after her, ignoring the protests from his allies. He proves himself rather too big for his boots when he catches up with Charlotte to find her not alone at all, and the team of girls take him out, Charlotte’s Angels style. Nearby and hearing the shouts, Maddie is so caught up watching her back that she steps right into a snare set hours before by Roy. With no one to come to her rescue, it’s endgame for her, too. 

But time is running out, so the Charlie’s Angels gang decide to pair off to cover more ground. Petra finds Ricky vulnerable while he does a damage check from his earlier painful fall, and gets him in the back with a stim, while Charlotte manages to catch Corbin similarly unaware. Just like that, the prideful Delmas are out of the running.  But while Charlotte and Petra were away steamrolling the Delma boys, Ada had immediately turned traitor, submitting Dylan with a pair of chameleons around her neck. 

So naturally, when what’s left of Ada’s allies return, Ada is on the offensive. There can only be two winners, and Ada wants to make sure she’s one of them. Unfortunately for her, feral strength won’t be enough this time; she launches herself at Petra and Charlotte but is overpowered by their exceptional teamwork and clear heads. Moments later, the victory horn sounds: Charlotte and Petra have officially become an unlikely pair of winners. Between Charlotte’s congenital heart defect and Petra’s only recently recovered ankle injury, it is a victory hard-earned and well-deserved. 

WINNERS CHARLOTTE WILLIAMS & PETRA STARR

FINAL STANDINGS Torren: 525 pts | Brink: 275 pts | Delma: 250 pts | Calyset:250 pts

POINTS AWARDED 725 pts to TORREN HOUSE

ELIMINATION TALLY*

*Please note that though we included a small handful of NPCs in the games generator, we did not include them all, so there would obviously be plenty of other participants whose eliminations are not established in this list. It can be assumed that many of these would have fallen in the first hour or two, though of course not all. If you need any NPCs for any further plotting or head canons for the games, you may reference any listed open characters/NPCs from the dorms list who fit your idea, or you may use a nameless NPC. If you are unsure, do not be afraid to reach out!

In no particular order: 

Hour 1: Constantin Lupei, Adrien Bennett, Siddhartha Jha, Angel Thorne

Hour 2: Annie Perrault, Lissy McCall, Lake Valentine, Teilo Aisling, Emmanuel Trent

Hour 3: Mitch Douglas, Orson Hurst, Caelan Whitmer, Roy Walters, JR, Koda Payne, Felix Turner, Paxton Semenyuk, Andreya Roche, Xavier Crane

Hour 4: Kaiser Bahr, Rosalind Stein, Dante Carrington, Enoch Lynch, Aurelia Ferris, Mason Quinley, Anaya Dolmen, Maisie Pace, Charlie Essex, Bode Lindqvist, Arvo Covery, Alois Van Asch, Mira Sigar, Alexander Donovan, Mei Zhu Fitrei

Hour 5: Josephine Parker, Cambie Andrews, Clayton Boyd, Benji Imes, Clove Modius, Persephone Evans, Draco Pavlović, Madison Vega, Diederick D’Mornay, Corbin Ealy, Dylan Meir, Ada Woollacott 

THANK YOU TO ALL OUR MEMBERS AND TO THE PARTICIPANTS OF THE COL22GAMES, MARCH, 2163!

The timeline has now moved forward to the 4th week of March. If you need more information on the these non-liveplay games and how to move forward with plotting, check out this post. 

[ohpuckthat]

Hatty... (Tyson Barrie)

My heart was racing as I prepared for yet another game. It was my first season in the NHL and as ecstatic as I was that I got to do what I loved for a living, there were some people who didn’t think I should be where I am. 

“Oh, she’s just a girl. She can’t play with the boys...” 

                                                            “She won’t be able to keep up...” 

“She’s just going to get hurt...” 

Tuning out all of the negativity was hard but as soon as I was on the ice, all of that seemed to fade away. 

As I drove to the Scotiabank Arena, I couldn’t help but think about how we’ve been doing these past few games. Most of the time, my teammates pass to me and none of the other players dared to lunge at me, leaving me all the time in the world to do anything on the ice. As much as I loved the freedom, it kind of sucked that they wouldn’t treat me as an equal.

I pulled into the rink and parked, grabbing my player badge and made my way to the locker room. The guys had offered a locker room to myself if I felt uncomfortable in with the boys, but I declined. I wanted to be apart of it all, pre-game, the game, and post-game. 

Once I got into the locker room, they’re weren’t many guys there, but they were all in the midst of getting dressed. As I sat in my cubbie, I leant down, getting my gear on. I looked around and met eyes with Tyson. While I got acquainted with the team, Tyson and I got the closest. All the boys felt like brothers and weird uncles but Tyson, he always felt like something more. We never did anything, no kisses or sexual advances, but there have been some long touches on the shoulder or lower back. 

“Hey (Y/N)! You ready for tonight?” Tyson called, sitting next to me in Clifford’s cubbie. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Maybe I’ll even break my hatty curse.” 

“You’ll break it. You can only have so many two goal games before you get that third.” He said, placing his hand on my thigh. 

“Thank you Tys. We should, uh, probably get to gearing up.” 

“For sure. See you out there.” I nodded as he made the short trek back to his spot.

I kept my head down, grabbing my gear and putting it on. The boys knew that while I put my gear on, I used it as time to get my head in the game. I made sure everything was put on in a certain order, my helmet going last right after coach gave us our pre-game talk. When it was finally time to get on the ice, I started getting a weird feeling in my stomach. I looked around, seeing everyone was focused on what they were doing. I tried shaking it off, skating around our half, but it never fully went away. As I was waiting for my lines turn for the drill, I felt someone stand right next to me. I turned, seeing Tyson stand next to me, looking tense. 

“What’s up?” 

“No need to worry, but uh, number 29 on the other end is eyeing you up. I can’t tell if it’s because you are unmistakingly beautiful or if he’s got some malicious intent behind it.” 

“I’ll be fine Tys. I’ve got you and Cliff with me. I feel safest around you guys.” I said, patting his shoulder before turning towards the net, skating up before shooting, Fred just missing it with his glove. I winked before skating back, getting in line once again.

When the game was about to start, we all stood for the national anthems, swaying as we heard the crowd start singing. When they ended, I grabbed my helmet but just before I could put it on, I saw a player on the other team stare me down before he put his helmet on and turn his attention back on the ice. The weird feeling returned to my stomach as I put my helmet on and tried focusing on the game that had already started. As I watched some of the boys hop off the ice, I jumped over the boards and skated with the play. Clifford passed me the puck and just as I was about to pass it again, I felt myself leave my feet and smack back into the boards. I stayed still, terrified that the hit did some permanent damage. I felt a dull pain in my back, increasingly getting worse and worse. I heard the whistle go and then some commotion before I saw the trainer kneel next to me.

“Where’s the pain?” He asked, leaning over me and holding my neck still.

“My back and my neck.”

“Scale of one to ten?” 

“Six, but getting worse.” 

“Okay. We’re going to need to get a stretcher. I don’t want to move you just in case. Okay?” He said, looking up to someone and whispering to them.

I layed on the ice for a while longer before they placed a neck collar on me and lifted me up and placed me on the stretcher. I found myself in the ambulance, people taking off my gear as they started working on me. Before the doors closed, I felt the ambulance dip as one last person hopped in. I couldn’t look up to see but I could tell by the faces that I could that they weren’t supposed to be there. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was once I felt his hand on my thigh. 

“Tys.” I whispered, wanting him in my eyeline.

“Yeah. I’m here.” He slid over, holding my hand. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah.” I forced out, feeling tears run down my face. He wiped it away, moving slightly closer.

“I promise, whatever happens, I’ll be right next to you.”

I smiled at him, squeezing his hand. The rest of the ride to the hospital was painful but less nerve racking. True to his word, he made sure to stay with me as much as possible. Through the check ups, x-rays (on the other side of the glass), and the diagnosis, he held my hand as much as possible. The doctor told me that I would have to stay in the hospital for a few more hours, just to make sure there was nothing they missed. Once the doctor left, Tys was right next to me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“See? You’re okay.” He said, his hand finding my thigh once again.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve just never been through such a big scare before. It definitely helped having you here. How uh, how did the rest of the game go anyway? It must be done by now.” 

“Let me check.” He said, going to pull out his phone. Just as he was about to tell me, some of the boys ran in, swarming around my bed.

“(Y/N)! You good there?” Auston said, patting Tyson’s shoulder. 

“Doctor said everything should be fine.  Just a pinched nerve so I should be good within a few days. How’d the game go?” 

“We won 3-0. A hat trick as a team for you.” Mitch said, pulling out three pucks, tape wrapped around them.

“You guys are so sweet.” I said, tearing up once again. “Thank you.”

“When you get out of here, you’re getting a hug from each and every one of us.” 

“I know. Now all of you get out of here. Go home because you’ve all got a game tomorrow and I will kick all of your asses if you mess up.” I threatened. They all said their goodbyes before walking out. Well except one. “Tyson, that means you too.” 

“No. I told you I would be with you through everthing. I’m not going until you’re out.” 

“I’m not playing tomorrow so it doesn’t matter if I’m out late. It does if you’re tired at morning skate.” I said, pushing him slightly. 

“Okay. I’ll go but, there’s something I need to do first.” 

“Okay, what-” I was cut off as I felt his lips on mine. His hands moved onto my thigh and the back of my neck, keeping me close. A smile painted on my face when we broke away. “I uh, I definitely needed that.” 

“Oh yeah? We can do it again, if you’d like?” He said, leaning in again.

“Oh no. You, sir, need to go home. Rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe then.”

“Alright. Text me when you get home. Please?” 

“Definitely.” I said before he made his way to the door. “Oh, and Tys?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He whispered, running back in and pecking my lips once again before running out. 

The things that man does to me...

[spaceotter42]

Terri Minsky tells the story of casting Andi Mack

Photo Source: Disney Channel/Mitch Haaseth

What It’s Like to Audition for Disney Channel, According to ‘Andi Mack’ Creator Terri Minsky

From Backstage, June 21, 2019

The following Career Dispatch essay was written by Terri Minsky, creator of Disney Channel’s “Andi Mack,” eligible this Emmy Awards season for outstanding children’s program.

BY TERRI MINSKY

I have a bad case of empty set syndrome. I miss my kids—the ones from my Disney Channel show, “Andi Mack.”

I look at their pictures on Instagram, and I barely recognize them. I’ve known these kids since they were babies...or at least young enough that their idea of a classic Christmas movie is “The Santa Clause 2”! They grow so fast. They look happy and busy, and that’s what’s important. Sigh. They don’t call, they don’t write. A text once in a while—that would be nice.

But listen, I’m just grateful they exist. I remember back when my script for “Andi Mack” was just words on a page that we had to make flesh and blood. And who knew if that was even possible? Where does one go to find a 13-year-old girl burdened by my lifelong self-esteem issues who gets hit by a major family trauma? And did I mention this was a comedy? This was Andi, my lead character. The Disney Channel gave me two months to find her, and it had to be someone they would approve, because it is a Very Big Deal to add a new star to the Disney firmament next to the likes of Selena Gomez, Miley Cyrus, and Zendaya.

Luckily, I was blessed with a tireless expedition team: Amber Horn, Danielle Aufiero, and Steven Tylor O’Connor. These casting directors were prepared to audition, in person or on tape, every tween girl on the planet. Very quickly, it became apparent that actual 13-year-olds are much more worldly today than the pre-Internet version I had in my head. They had to cast a wider net. For guidance, they asked if I had a picture in my head of what Andi looked like when I wrote the script. I said no, because I would never say “me.” (See above: self-esteem issues).

But my casting directors needed me to be more helpful than that; thousands of girls were reading for Andi. Even if I couldn’t say exactly what I wanted, but I knew what I didn’t want. Often, I could tell almost the moment a girl walked into the room whether she was a prospective Andi. It was the little things, like shoes. Converse sneakers, yes; heels or over-the-knee boots, no. A lot of make-up, hair that had been curling ironed, long painted nails—my interest level went down the more dressed up someone was. Even though they were auditioning for a Disney Channel comedy, I didn’t want anyone to try to be funny. I wasn’t going to have a studio audience or a laugh track, and I don’t write the “hard” jokes of classic sitcom humor meant to get a laugh. But a lot of these kids had been to acting coaches who taught them the singsong rhythms of comic delivery. I wanted my dialogue to sound as natural as possible.

Then out of nowhere, there was Peyton Elizabeth Lee. She didn't have a reel; she had only been acting professionally for a few months with two guest spots on her résumé. This is what I mean about Amber, Danielle, and Steven seeing everyone. When Peyton read my dialogue, it didn’t just sound natural, it sounded so real that I felt like I was meeting my own character. But before Disney would hire her, they had to rule everyone else out, which meant Peyton had to audition again and again and again, each time competing with a new crop of candidates. The final time, the network executives asked her to do a cold reading of the scene where Andi finds out her sister is actually her mother. They gave her a half hour to prepare. She came back in five minutes and killed it. She was only 11 years old.

Then, we got the all-clear to look for the other kids. Jonah Beck was Andi’s crush, the unattainable guy. Buffy was the best friend with the backbone Andi didn’t have. Cyrus was the other best friend, Disney’s first LGBTQ character. There’s no suspense to the rest of this casting story; we had a group of kids who almost instantly became the best friends they were hired to play. There were some bumps, though.

Joshua Rush, our Cyrus, had just been hired as the lead for another Disney pilot. He came in with a list of questions about my plans for Cyrus’ storyline, which I had to answer before he would even consider auditioning. I don’t know if he ever actually read the sides. He was already Cyrus. The other pilot was never made. (Belatedly, I’m feeling very guilty about that.)

Between his name and his smile, Asher Angel seemed like a no-brainer for Jonah Beck. But in the post-audition banter, Asher said he loved sports, every sport…except ultimate frisbee. He didn't know how to play it, and he had no interest in learning. This was immediately after reading the scene where Jonah Beck, the captain of the ultimate frisbee team, teaches Andi how to play frisbee. Betty Thomas, who directed the pilot, threw up her hands and plaintively wailed: “Dude!” (But the role was still his, of course.)

We didn’t have a Buffy until two days before we started shooting the series. We saw a lot of auditions full of vampire-slayer toughness, but very little of the best friend. Amber found Sofia Wylie’s hip-hop dance videos on Instagram, and brought her in for the role. She was the very last person to audition for the role, and it was hers.

I once asked Peyton how long she could see herself playing Andi. She looked at me like I was crazy: “Forever,” she said, as if it was obvious she was the one. Such a beautiful thought to keep the series running for all time, but I knew then it wasn’t possible. Working on this show and with these kids for its third and final season has been such a dream and a gift. The “Andi Mack” series finale airs July 26, 2019.

[willykappymarnsmatts]

Mine (T. Dermott)

Another request from the adorable @eikoxx 🥰💙

“Y/N, come with us!”

“Yeah, come on! Please!”

I roll my eyes and laugh quietly from my bedroom at my friends. One of my biggest regrets in life was giving them each keys to my dorm. They know I have work to catch up on, and I told them earlier that I wouldn’t be able to go out tonight, despite the fact that I said I could the day before.

“Y/N!” Travis bursts into the room, almost falling over from the momentum of him running basically through my door. “Y/N, come on!! You can work later. Please. We all have so much more fun when we’re with you,” he pleads.

I start to shake my head, but Kasperi, and then Auston and Mitch, followed by Willy, wander into the room behind Travis. “I literally cannot stand you guys. I don’t know why I’m friends with you. I should’ve taken the fucking job in Ottawa or something.” All four of them laugh at me, knowing that my mocking means they’ve convinced me to come. “No, I’m not joking. I literally hate you guys,” I continue as Kap sits at my desk which I’ve just deserted. Travis plops his ass down and sits cross-legged on the floor, Auston sits on my bed, allowing Mitch to crawl into his lap, and Willy leans casually against my door frame.

“Give me 10 minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” I mutter under my breath, and Travis jumps up to hug me and spin me around.

“We love you, Y/N!” He cries. I push him away laughing and gather together clothes, picking out an outfit with the guys’ help.

•••

Twenty minutes later, we’re in the car on the way to a bar called BarChef. It’s Willy’s pick, being his turn since the last time we went out he was the DD.

“Where do I go now, babe?” Kappy asks for the fifteenth time this drive as we come to a red light.

“Left,” Willy responds, squeezing their hands together, which are interlocked between them.

I try to fix my hair, using my phone as a mirror, when Mitch steals it from me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You look beautiful, don’t worry.” I rest my head against his shoulder and look out the windshield. Auston, Mitch, me, and Travis are squished in the back of Kappy’s car, but it’s nothing new. None of our cars legally fit more than five people, but we make it work.

I look over at Travis and catch him almost glaring at Mitch, but when he looks at me his face changes. I look at him questioningly, but he pretends not to notice. “How’s school going?” He asks instead.

“Good,” I say carefully, still very confused. “Good, I’m enjoying all my classes. I still have no idea what I want to specialize in.” I’m in my last year of university at U of T, and I’m really enjoying it, although it’s quite challenging.

“It’s okay,” he tells me. “You still have med school, then your residency, right?” I nod. He actually listens when I talk to him, unlike my girlfriends. “So you still have a really long time to decide. Residency will help you decide, I think.”

I smile at him. The way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only other person around, my chest constricts and my temples throb. I look away suddenly, staring at his shoes. I’ve never felt this way with Travis before, and I’m kinda freaking out. ‘It’s just Derms,’ I tell myself. ‘He’s one of your best friends. Just Travis.’

We pull into a parking lot of what looks to be a very busy bar. “Nicely done, Willy. You guys are gonna get noticed and I’ll just be left in the corner doing my own thing.

“Trust me, you idiot, nobody here likes hockey. It’s way too nice a place for sports fans.”

I laugh at him as the five of us climb out of the car. Travis takes my hand in his as Auston takes Mitch’s and Kap takes Willy’s. It’s a running joke that Travis and I will forever be single, and that the two couples shove their cute relationships in our faces.

When we walk into the bar, I immediately understand what Will was saying. It’s a modern, mature bar. Nothing that a Toronto sports fan would ever be caught dead at. A few girls sitting at a table near the entrance turn and stare at the guys, then glare at me. Travis notices and protectively puts his arm around my shoulders. “Jealous, much?”

“Of what, me hanging out with you guys? Please, I could do so much better.”

He laughs loudly and attempts to mess up my hair as I sit at a barstool, but I catch his hands and shove him into his seat. We’re both laughing like idiots and the guys are watching amusedly. Auston sits on the other side of me and leans into me slightly. “I don’t know how you two haven’t gotten together yet,” he chirps.

“Oh shush,” I respond as the bartender comes up to us to take out orders. We get our drinks and continue chatting and laughing. As I suspected, the guys get noticed by a group of good-looking girls. Their collective attention is away from me for about 15 minutes as they talk with the girls. I play with my straw and stare at my phone, pretending there’s something very enticing on the screen, when a tall, handsome guy comes and sits next to me in Travis’ seat.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravely.

“Hi,” I smile politely at him, hoping to make my disinterest obvious.

“Can I buy you another?” He asks, gesturing at my half full drink.

“No, I’m okay with this.” I turn away from him, when suddenly his chest is against my back and I can feel him breathing down my neck.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t want to say no to me,” he says into my ear. I flinch away, disgusted. I turn back around on the stool to face him.

“Excuse me?” I demand, sitting straight up. He moves close to me again, sliding between my legs. I glance over to where Travis and the guys are, still facing away from me. I take a deep breath and think about what to do. If I move away, he’ll get even angrier with me. He’s not as big as my friends, I could probably defend myself against him if I needed to, but I don’t really want to have to. I look over again at the guys, and Travis turns to look at me, a smile on his face. As soon as he looks at me and sees the guy, though, his face falls.

Travis ignores the girls and comes over to me quickly and shoves the man off of me. “What the fuck do you think your doing?” He demands.

“And who are you to ask?”

Anytime I’m put in this situation, the guys easily slip into the same lie. “Her boyfriend, fucker. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The man refuses to move, instead rolling up his sleeves. “Derms, stop,” I whisper. I know he hears me, but he chooses to ignore me.

“I wouldn’t try to fight me if I were you, bud,” Travis chirps, and I shake my head.

“Travis-“

The man's fist hits Travis square in the jaw, and his eyes flash. It’s his hockey face. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, leaning my elbow against the bar counter and leaning my head into my palm. It’s so easy for him to get pissed off when it comes to protecting me or any of his other friends or teammates.

Travis uppercuts him in the jaw, hard. Auston and Kap are at his side, with Mitch and Willy close behind. The amount of men facing off the man seems to intimidate him. He shakes his head and looks at me once more. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say no one day,” he tells me, turning to leave the bar. His words disgust me, sending a chill down my spine.

Travis wraps his arms around me, his eyes soft again.

“You okay, Y/N?” Kappy asks, rubbing my arm supportively. I smile at him.

“Let’s go,” Auston suggests. I start to shake my head. This is all the guys wanted to do tonight. Forget the stress of hockey, just chill and probably get wasted.

“He’s right, Y/N. It’s okay. We’ll go back to Travis’ and just play chel or something,” Mitch chimes.

The guys nod and grin at me. “I love you guys, you know?”

“Love you too,” they coo.

•••

Back at Travis’ place, we’ve all changed into more comfortable clothing. The guys have small pieces of their clothing at basically every team members’ houses, so they’re wearing their own clothing. I’m wearing a pair of Travis’s sweatpants, which I have knotted tight at the waist, and his team sweatshirt. We’re lounging on the couch, playing chel and cod while stuffing our faces with pizza and pop.

We laugh and yell at and throw pieces of popcorn at each other. I’m sitting next to Auston, my legs resting across his with my back against the armrest of the couch. Travis is sitting on the floor in front of me, his hair brushing my leg when he moves. Mitch is sitting next to Travis, in between Auston’s legs. Kappy and Willy are squished together on the armchair against the other wall, all of us focusing on the chel game between Will and Aus.

I continue kicking Auston’s arms slightly, trying to get him to press the wrong buttons. “Babes, will you please fucking stop,” he says for the fifteenth time. I giggle and stop momentarily, resting my legs to continue shortly.

“I thought I was babes,” Mitch whines, craning his head back to look up at him.

When the play stops, Auston leans down and kisses him. “You’re my babe.”

Mitch smiles, satisfied. Willy’s biting his bottom lip as he skates the puck up to Auston’s net and skates back and forth in front of it. He shoots and the puck ends up in the back of the net. The living room erupts in cheers and Auston slumps back into the couch, defeated once again.

Mitch crawls so he’s on his knees and stretches to kiss him. “I love you anyways,” he says, and Willy makes a face like he might vomit. Kappy pulls him into his chest before he can chirp them and kisses his hair. I look at Travis and catch him staring at me.

“What?” I whisper, smiling gently.

“Nothing,” he whispers back, shaking his head slightly. I mess his hair as I stand up to go to the washroom, trying my best not to kick Mitch in the back of the head. I feel eyes on the back of my head as I leave the room, but when I turn Travis is staring pretty much through the television.

After many more rounds of chel, the guys start getting their stuff together to head home. We decide to leave our dress clothes at Travis’, knowing we don’t go out places with any other groups, the losers that we are. I’m slipping on my boots while the guys are decide who gets to drive and who to drop off first.

“Kap, you drive,” Auston suggests. “You can drop Mitch first, and I’ll just stay the night. Then bring Willy to his place then go home.”

Will is staring at me, the only one to remember how far out my student residency is from everyone else’s houses. “Uh, it’s okay. I’ll… take an Uber?”

“Are you sure?” Mitch asks, a worried look on his face. “It’s really late.”

“Yeah, I’ll, um, I’ll be okay,” I say, glancing out the window at the pitch black.

“No, no, Y/N, stay the night.” Travis says from further inside the entrance hall.

“Hm? Are you sure, Derms? You have practice tomorrow morning and I don’t have any classes.”

“Yeah, of course. You can come to practice with us, or just chill here. Whatever. Just stay, please.”

I’m still not sure. It’s not like I haven’t stayed over at each guys’ place at least once, but I feel bad because he has to wake up early. But he’s giving me his stupid puppy dog eyes, and nobody can say no to Travis when he does that. “Fine, okay, I’ll stay,” I mutter, toeing off my boots.

“Okay, we’ll get going,” Auston says, and we give hugs and say goodnight. Once they all leave, Travis shuts and locks the door behind them.

“Do you want other clothes to sleep in?” He asks, not really looking at me.

“No, I think I’m okay.” We try to tidy up the living room a little bit, picking up empty pizza boxes and half-full bowls of popcorn and chips in comfortable silence. “Hey, thanks for sticking up for me at the bar.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. What are best friends for?” He smiles at me wide.

I smile back, and we look at each other. His eyes are so blue, so bright. “Yeah, best friends,” I whisper, picking up a can from the ground and glancing up at him again. He hasn’t moved, still looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. The same clenched chest, throbbing temples, falling feeling from the car comes back. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but it doesn’t help. My heart beats faster, if anything.

Travis drops the two pizza boxes he picked up on the coffee table and moves toward me. He takes one step, two steps, and he’s right in front of me. It would be so easy to close the small space between us. I feel his breath against my lips, and it would be so easy-

Suddenly, it’s not an idea anymore. One of his hands is on my waist, the other under my chin. And his lips are on mine, his body is flush against mine. He pulls away suddenly and looks at me. “Okay?” He asks breathlessly, his blue eyes flicking between each of mine, searching.

“Okay,” I whisper back. He leans in and kisses me again, sending my stomach into flips. My chest clenches again and my temples throb with yearning. But I don’t try to will the feeling away now. Instead I pull him closer to me. I want all of him, and I don’t try to deny it anymore. Because this is Travis, my best friend in the world. And this is Travis, my favourite person in the world. The only person that matters in this moment. My person. And I tell him by kissing him with every emotion and word I’ve been keeping back. His arms are strong against me and his hand is in my hair. I clench his shirt in my hands and pull him closer. “You’re mine,” I manage to whisper when he pulls away slightly for air. “I’ve been waiting for this for so fucking long, Travis,” I tell him.

He laughs gently against my lips. “You are very mistaken, love. I have been waiting for this moment from the moment I met you. You, Y/N, are mine. And I’m gonna let the world know.”

[bucket-of-rice]

Grappling with attention, suchi with friends, and so, so much soccer: A week in the life of Morgan Rielly.

Justin Kloke. 16 Jan 2019

(HEADS UP! this is a long post)

In a Maple Leafs season with high expectations and the hopes of making a legitimate push in the Stanley Cup playoffs, no player has had a more transformative year than Morgan Rielly. For one week, The Athletic was granted a glimpse into the life of the Maple Leafs’ star defenceman.

Saturday, January 5

Just after 10:30 a.m. Saturday morning, Morgan Rielly takes his place in front of an army of reporters and cameramen at the front of the Maple Leafs dressing room. His blonde hair walks the line between well-manicured and messy as he eschews the high and tight look of so many of his peers. He wears a slight stubble on his face, shorts, non-descript Black Nike trainers and large white socks bunched up just over his heels.

At first glance, the 24 year old looks more like a suburban father out on a diaper run than he does a Norris Trophy candidate. As Rielly speaks, there is no trace of ego. An outsider would be hard-pressed to believe Rielly has scored 44 points in 40 games, which at this point is tied for the lead among NHL defencemen.

“I feel like I have room to get better,” Rielly tells the scrum. “When you look, recently, we’ve had some losses and it’s important we all take that upon ourselves as individuals and try to get better.”

The Leafs welcome the Vancouver Canucks that night at Scotiabank Arena, Rielly’s hometown team. Rielly has become accustomed to being sent to speak for the Leafs ahead of a game. He has not just taken steps, but leaps and bounds this season to become the team’s number one defenceman. In training camp, Rielly confided to one of his best friends on the team, Jake Gardiner, that he was going to be “more assertive” offensively this season.

As such, it’s curious that the league’s highest-scoring defenceman was left off the All-Star Game roster when it was announced a few days earlier.

But Rielly still has a shot to get to San Jose and his first All-Star Game: Throughout this week, fans can vote for him as part of a “Last Man In” campaign. One player from each division will be selected.

Not surprisingly, Rielly, who has been hesitant to speak about his own personal accomplishments all season, isn’t viewing this week as a try-out for the All-Star Game.

“I don’t think it’s going to change anything,” Rielly says, shaking his head. “Voting is what it is. It’s based on a lot more than just what happens on Monday night and then Thursday night.”

After a five-game point streak through December that saw him net 11 points, Rielly has cooled, going pointless in his last three games. It is his longest scoring drought of an otherwise scorching season.

Tonight’s setting is seemingly right for Rielly to get back on track.

“I’d be lying if I said I just treated it like every other game,” Rielly says of facing the Canucks.

He knows all of his buddies back in Vancouver are watching, and he understands expectations surrounding his play might be heightened.

At 6:35 p.m., Rielly and the Leafs exit the dressing room, but not until famed Canadian astronaut, and noted Leafs fan Chris Hadfield quickly scoots through the blocked-off area directly outside the dressing room.

Rielly is the 19th player out of the dressing room. He stops to share a choreographed handshake with Mitch Marner that ends up looking more like an entanglement of hands than it does a high-five. They both burst out in simultaneous laughter.

“I like it in basketball when it’s a little bit more elaborate,” Rielly says of special handshakes among teammates.

Midway through the first period, Rielly sees his fortunes change. He throws the puck on net from just inside the blueline and John Tavares tips it in. It’s part of a comprehensive performance from Rielly in which he generates six scoring chances.

The Leafs humiliate Rielly’s hometown team, 5-0.

Still, Rielly isn’t interested in personal accolades, including breaking his pointless drought.

“People always ask me about points and stuff,” Rielly says. “I genuinely don’t think about it. I used to when I was younger. As you get a bit older, you put it out of your mind and you just worry about playing.”

Rielly will hang around Scotiabank Arena after the game until half-time of the Dallas Cowboys-Seattle Seahawks wildcard playoff game. He then quickly drives home to his Trinity Bellwoods apartment. He pours himself a glass of red wine and makes a beeline for his couch to watch the second half of the game and unwind.

Rielly won’t call himself a wine connoisseur by any means, but he’s met enough people through his NHL career that have influenced his taste in wine. He favours wines from Napa Valley instead of more traditionally popular countries like France and Italy. When he gets together with his parents, he always chooses the wine, even if they do talk a big game after recently returning from a trip to Italy.

“I know what I like now,” Rielly says, nodding his head confidently.

Sunday, January 6

Rielly arrives at the Leafs’ practice facility at 10:00 a.m. for a noon practice. He’ll get a bit of physical treatment, stretch, take part in a team workout around 11:00 a.m. then be part of a team meeting at 11:30.

When Rielly does take to the ice just before noon, there is a full-size dummy on the ice that goaltending coach Steve Briere uses to simulate screens for the team’s goalies.

Rielly has other plans.

“Me and (Gardiner) like to shoot pucks at it because we think it’s funny,” Rielly says.

Sunday’s practice is short, totalling just 25 minutes. The team avoids working on structure, instead opting for a variety of three-on-three games meant to, in Rielly’s estimation, “just keep the motor running.”

With the rest of the day to kill, Rielly considers his options: he’s interested in seeing ‘Vice,’ or perhaps spending time with Auston Matthews, Frederik Andersen and Tyler Ennis, all of whom are single and have established a routine of dining out and seeing movies together.

Rielly is all too aware that it’s important to have hobbies outside of hockey and not simply spend his personal time on the couch.

But Sunday is different.

“Today’s going to be about football,” Rielly says.

It’s the final day of the NFL’s wildcard weekend, and Rielly wants nothing more than to park himself on his couch to watch.

“I do believe in preparation, being rested and being aware of what you put in your body today,” Rielly says, perhaps using this as an excuse to spend a Sunday afternoon vegging.

Rielly’s interest in football isn’t just a passing one.

His father, Andy, was a Raiders fan after working in Orange County, California as a carpenter when he was younger. Morgan and Andy would drive down together from West Vancouver to Seattle to watch the Raiders play the Seahawks. When Rielly was seven and the Seahawks played at the University of Washington’s Husky Stadium, the two braved the freezing, snowy conditions by buying entirely too many blankets which they still have, and use.

“I’ll always remember that,” Rielly says.

His interest became even more deep-seated when he began playing fantasy football. Rielly’s incredible season isn’t just limited to the ice: He won the team’s fantasy football league.

His pick for the Super Bowl is the New Orleans Saints, led by Drew Brees. He admits to being mesmerized by one of the all-time great quarterbacks.

“He’s one of the only guys who I’ll watch the entire game and not change the channel. When I watch that team play I just think about how good they are. Their offence just clicks.”

Monday, January 7

Game days are always the same for Rielly. After waking at 8:00 a.m., as he does every morning, and throwing on the first clothes he can find, he’ll drive along Lakeshore Boulevard to the Scotiabank Arena, arriving no later than 8:45.

He’ll mosey around the dressing room, striking up a conversation with whichever teammate he meets.

“It takes me a while to wake up,” Rielly says.

Breakfast always consists of two eggs, over easy, with one notable exception.

“If I’m really hungry I’ll have these blueberry pancakes we have,” Rielly says. “They say they’re supposed to be good for you but I don’t really believe them.”

More coffee follows. Rielly will tape his sticks for the game while waiting for one of his favourite parts of his day: The pre-game soccer kick about. Players organize a tournament and whoever lets the ball drop is out of the circle. The last man standing gets a point, and the first player to three points wins.

“I’m the best guy on the team. You can ask,” says Rielly. He never played much soccer growing up but he has honed his skills.

The first team meeting is at 9:50 followed by another at 10:00. If the morning skate is mandatory, Rielly will take the ice.

If not? More soccer.

“That’s harder than pre-game skate,” Rielly says.

Lunch is served at the Platinum Club, a restaurant just steps away from the dressing room. He’ll always eat pasta in rosé sauce, and will always sit across from Gardiner. After lunch, Rielly grabs a cookie, a bottle of water and returns home.

He naps earlier than his teammates, generally from 12:30-1:30. Once he wakes up, he’ll open his laptop and pore through the endless stream of news stories emerging that day, paying particular attention to any stories his mother has sent him.

Rielly arrives back at Scotiabank Arena by 4:00 p.m. His pre-game meal is simple: toast, and, more coffee.

At 4:25, Rielly enters the trainer’s room for a thorough stretch. He’ll wait for Gardiner to finish his stretch immediately afterwards and a one-on-one game of soccer follows. First to 10 points wins.

By the end of that game, more teammates are waiting on the sidelines to join in. Another tournament commences.

At 5:00, Rielly enters the dressing room. The team’s penalty kill meeting begins at 5:12 sharp. He’ll then chat with defence partner Ron Hainsey about the evening’s matchup. Rielly is a fan of poring over the game notes on the opposition to see if any trends stick out.

Another meeting at 5:30 follows before…another game of soccer.

Rielly eventually has to be pulled away from his teammates for more stretching before getting dressed for the game.

Tonight’s game is one to forget for Rielly and the Leafs. After giving up two second period goals against the Nashville Predators, the Leafs throw caution to the wind and abandon their defensive structure in search of the tying goals. In doing so, they expose themselves and are exploited by a very good Predators offence. They add two more goals in the third period and the Leafs lose 4-0.

Rielly is unable to break out of the Leafs own zone as he has all season.

“It was an example of them clogging up the ice and making it difficult for us to generate offence,” Rielly says. “And that can be frustrating.”

Tuesday, January 8

It is a day off for Rielly and the Leafs. Rielly begins his day by running a few errands, including a stop at the bank, all fueled by a few iced coffees. He makes his way to Ossington Avenue where he meets Ennis, Andersen and Matthews for a sushi lunch.

The push to get Rielly into the All-Star game begins to ramp up. The Toronto Raptors post a short video with Pascal Siakam in a Rielly jersey encouraging fans to vote for Rielly.

Matthews also posts a photo of Rielly from lunch on his Instagram story, trying to generate more votes.

The four of them then move on to a local theatre for a matinee viewing of ‘Aquaman.’ Nothing special, according to Rielly, even if he is into superhero movies.

By the evening, the weight of two games over the past three nights catches up with Rielly. He’s exhausted, and can’t be bothered to cook. He says goodbye to his teammates and walks across the street from his apartment to Oyster Boy and saddles up to the bar.

He’s a fan of spending his evenings alone at the restaurant bar, often bringing a book, such as Thomas L. Friedman’s ‘Thank You for Being Late: An Optimist’s Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations.’

As increased attention on Rielly’s social media ramps up, he needs drown out the noise. He isn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention. He plugs in his headphones and listens to an episode of the Joe Rogan Experience with a plate of oysters in front of him.

Wednesday, January 9

Wednesday’s practice ends with a competition born out of a discussion among Leafs teammates: Who’s better at taking faceoffs, defencemen or centres? Rielly has only taken two draws in his lifetime. Last season, with the Leafs trying to kill a 5-on-3 penalty and one Leafs forward already kicked out of the dot, Rielly was called in to face off against Henrik Sedin. He lost.

Assistant coach D.J. Smith drops pucks as the two groups bark after every draw. In the end, perhaps against the odds, Gardiner leads the defencemen to a surprise victory. A round of cheers breaks out among the Leafs defencemen.

Jake Gardiner and Nazem Kadri often debate whether forwards or defencemen have harder practices, and Rielly hopes this competition settled the debate.

“It was brewing for a couple of days,” Rielly says, “so I’m glad we squashed it.”

After practice, Rielly and his teammates board a flight to New Jersey in advance of tomorrow’s game against the Devils.

Rielly takes his seat near Gardiner, Kadri and Hainsey for a heated game of poker. Rielly has never considered himself much of a poker player, aside from killing time on his phone with a poker app. It’s the camaraderie he enjoys.

“I’m not a good player. I like being involved in making fun of guys,” Rielly says with a mischievous grin that is as commonplace to Rielly as his dad socks.

Nevertheless, he wins big on the flight down.

Previous attempts via social media to bring attention to Rielly’s “Last Man In” vote were only a start: On Wednesday night, Gardiner helps the Leafs go on the offensive. Gardiner films a series of short clips with players hamming it up for the camera in an attempt to influence voters and boost Rielly’s case for the All-Star Game.

Rielly was alone in his hotel room at the time, getting ready for a team dinner and was unaware of what Gardiner and the team were putting together.

“If I was, they wouldn’t have gotten out,” Rielly says.

When he returns to his room after dinner his phone blows up with notifications. He can only shake his head and text Gardiner to plead for the videos to stop.

Thursday, January 10

The majority of the Leafs don’t travel to the Prudential Center for a morning skate, so Rielly and Gardiner play soccer at the hotel on their own.

“I rinsed him,” says Rielly.

More videos continue to roll in on social media, encouraging fans to vote for Rielly.

Rielly tries to block out the added attention by continuing his routine. The Prudential Center offers a roomier space for the team’s pre-game soccer than many arenas. But that could only increase the attention on Rielly.

“He’s a target man,” says forward Andreas Johnsson, who is also one of the better soccer players on the team.

Rielly isn’t fazed. If anything, he believes Johnsson’s admission proves his superiority.

“If it’s Royal Rumble, you go after the best player, because you want him out early,” Rielly says.

The Leafs get the bounce-back effort they needed, a comprehensive 4-2 victory over the Devils. Rielly registers one assist and it’s one worth remembering. His patient highlight-reel pass looks almost effortless but still brilliant.

The Leafs don’t leave the airport in New Jersey until just after 11:30 p.m. Rielly finally arrives home just before 1:30 a.m. It’s a late night, but Rielly still sets his alarm for 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

“You have about 12 coffees and go about your day,” says Rielly.

Friday, January 11

As Rielly begins skating laps around the ice ahead of practice, the results are announced by the NHL: Rielly will not be going to the All-Star Game. Sabres forward Jeff Skinner is the final Atlantic Division representative.

After practice, Rielly is swarmed by reporters. Asked repeatedly what it would have meant for him to have been able to go to the game, Rielly deflects. He can’t imagine what it would be like to experience something that didn’t happen.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Rielly says repeatedly of the vote. The feelings of self-consciousness over the attention were a little too much to bear.

He’s already making plans to return to Vancouver and spend some quality time with his eight-year-old yellow lab, Maggie. Time away from the spotlight would serve Rielly well.

After a nap to recuperate from practice, Rielly and Ennis meet at Lee, a trendy Asian fusion restaurant, for dinner. Rielly is a massive fan of Susur Lee but even more so, considers living in Toronto as a way to expand his culinary palette.

“There’s a lot of diversity in this city,” says Rielly. “That is true certainly with the food. There’s lots out there that you can try, and find what you like.”

Saturday, January 12

By Saturday afternoon, the focus has shifted away from Rielly’s All-Star Game snub to that night’s opponents, the Bruins. After losing two of three regular-season meetings so far, questions continue to swirl about whether the Leafs have the mettle to combat the Bruins should they meet again in the postseason.

Rielly understands the questions, even if he doesn’t like them.

“If you’re a journalist and you look at the history, that’s the narrative I would write too,” Rielly says. “I don’t think there’s anything there that we’re afraid of.”

As the Leafs prepare to take the ice, Rielly takes his normal position in front of the silver Maple Leaf logo in the dressing room hallway to the ice. He wears an “A” on his sweater and is beginning to take more responsibility on this team. So much so that, as strong a year as he is having as an individual, he would trade it all for greater success as a team.

“That’s the end goal,” says Rielly, with the admission that the Leafs need their best players to be performing at their full capacity to succeed. “That’s why we’re here. We want to win hockey games. It’s not about what we do as individuals. That’s a trade I’d make for sure.”

In the second intermission, with the Leafs trailing 3-2 and slightly deflated, Rielly pipes up. His message is simple: Stay positive. He reminds those closest to him in the dressing room that the team is at home, down by just one goal and that they were getting their fair share of scoring chances.

“To hear voices, I think it’s good,” says Rielly. “You feel like there’s something that has to be said, whether you’re a young guy, old guy, it doesn’t matter.”

The Bruins hold on for the win. There were long stretches throughout the game that Rielly felt the Leafs were in control. It’s hard for Rielly not to imagine another playoff matchup.

“When you look at the standings, there’s a chance we’ll see them again,” Rielly says. “That’s something you always think about.”

Rielly returns to his apartment, alone with his thoughts. He tries not to let losses fester too long. He genuinely tries to find the positives in the game, and then “flushes it,” before practice the next day. Rielly is happy to have some time to himself. If there will be no reflection on his breakout season in public, the only time it might come is on his couch, free of distraction.

“I like my own space,” Rielly says. “My mom always commented on that, the way I liked to — not necessarily be alone, but — more or less, be alone.”

From the outside, Rielly may never live a more enviable life than he currently does. He does not allow for the admission that in playing the best hockey of his professional career, his profile has been raised dramatically. Even when his family visits and he dines out with his mother, she cannot get over how many people around Rielly are staring, whispering and pointing in admiration.

Rielly doesn’t want to notice the added attention, or have himself singled out for what could be one of the best offensive seasons by a Leafs defenceman, ever.

“I don’t think we’ve accomplished our end goal yet,” says Rielly. “Yeah, things are good if you look at it right now, but I think they could be a lot better. I don’t think our focus is enjoying everything that’s happening right now. We have bigger goals. And to reach that end goal, I think then we’ll be able to take a step back and look around a bit more.”

The following day is a practice, and Rielly has his alarm set for 8:00 a.m.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

with you [5/6]

Summary: Clementine pops the question. 

Preview: 

“Ruby’s going to see Clem, and the others are in the music room, so steer clear.”

Louis doesn’t know how he did it, but he actually convinced Aasim to let him wander off.

Of course, he promised that he wouldn’t go near the music room or go see Clementine, and he practically got on his hands and knees and begged to leave the comfort of Aasim’s room.

Aasim eventually gave in once Louis was dressed in the attire picked out for him; a dark green button down shirt tucked into his jeans and his signature jacket.

The yard is empty with the exception of Willy on watch. Before the young boy spots him, he makes a quick turn to the right and heads down the sidewalk towards the graveyard. 

All the graves have fresh flowers on them, white ones with long stems. Louis places himself on the ground, not bothering to care if dirt clung to his jeans or jacket.

“Hey, Marlon.”

Warnings:  Louis has a disturbing nightmare. Aasim can’t dance. Ruby’s super oblivious [or is she...?]. Mitch still doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings. Marlon’s grave makes an appearance. Clementine and Louis are separated because Ruby’s superstitous about bad luck, I guess.

Author’s Note: Y’know, it’s amazing any of you still follow me because I am a big dummy liar pants. After playing ep4, I went back to work on this and get more ideas to fully tie it together but as I was, it became ridiculously long. Too long to even be enjoyable to read. So. Here we are. 

Thank you for all the nice comments and messages I’ve gotten for this story. The support you guys have given my dumb ass has turned me into a little ball of feely mush that can’t express words, so... thank you. Really. Every read, every like, every comment has meant so much. Hope you enjoy, and I’ll see ya next time!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad | Read on FF.net

---

There’s a heavy pressure building up in his ears, damn near deafening the sounds of excited voices and off-key piano. The weight of his own head brings a throbbing ache along his neck, falling forward to gaze through lidded eyes down at the wooden floors.

He’s in the music room. No question there. Several pairs of feet shuffle by in a blur of muted colors, stopping in front of him every so often before turning away to continue their business.

Whoever’s playing the piano clearly has never pressed a proper key in their life, instead opting to slam both hands over as many of the keys as they possibly can. The sound, so awful, so quick it’s enough to make him sick, spoiling the insides of his stomach until the acids are boiling up.

Louis swallows, though his mouth is so dry and sore that nothing goes down to ease the bitter burn bubbling in his throat. His tongue feels swollen, too heavy for his jaw to handle, too plump to allow the necessary amount of air to push through.

The stress pulsating in his ears and head worsens when the music grows louder, harder with each slam of the keys. Louis’ legs buckle, giving out and sending him backward. No one wandering around seems to take notice of his fall, still hurrying and still chatting gleefully. He tries to fully open his eyes, to see their cheerful faces, but the effort to even do that has left him drained, sore.

The shoes that approach him, oddly pristine, take hold of his focus. The figure standing before him isn’t threatening, nor is it kind. It’s just there, waiting patiently for his undivided attention.

Louis can’t bring himself to look. His arms, the only things holding his upper body up, tremble violently with his vain attempt to not completely crumble.

The figure kneels down before him, a gentle hand reaching out to lift his chin.

His father smiles at him.

It’s cold, unnatural.

His once handsome face is practically gray now, gaunt and leathery, and his teeth are rotten right down to his bleeding gums. His eyes, now sunken and bruised, are dull, clouded over.

Louis’ chin quivers as the heat spreads behind his widening eyes and down his nose. He takes a shaky breath, lips trembling without a sound as he tries to say, ‘Dad?’

He coughs, tries to clear his throat, tries to speak.

And that’s how he knows none of this is real.

He never has a voice in his dreams. He never makes a sound, no matter how hard he tries.

‘Dad…?’

His father’s boney thumb brushes his cheek, leaving a chill and a rise of goosebumps along his flesh.

Louis reaches out an unsteady hand to grasp the front of his father’s suit, trying to hold on with all his might, but he’s just too damn weak. His whole body shudders as his father fixes the tie around Louis’ neck, straightens his suit jacket, and stands. Louis’ arm falls useless into his lap as he hunches over.

‘Da-dad…’

He’s sobbing, unable to breathe as he silently wheezes and coughs. The tears burn hot against his skin, slipping over his cheeks and jaw, down his neck. His nose runs, and no amount of sniffling prevents it from dripping.

Blurred through his teary vision, he can make out his father’s offering hand. Louis blinks up at him, trying to see his face, his smile.

“C’mon, Lou, get up.”

His father’s voice is garbled, almost robotic.

Something glistens, catching Louis’ eye.

It’s the dented and loose band around his father’s finger. A wave of emotion crashes over him, shooting straight through his heart as he holds up his hand to admire his own ring. He’s horrified to find it rusting, tainting the surrounding flesh down to the bone.

The keys pound, harder and harder, and the chatter grows louder to compete.

Something hits his thigh, and when he looks down, he sees his father’s severed finger with the ring still attached, oozing dark blood and staining his pants.

He gasps, chokes and kicks his leg out to get the finger off him, snapping his eyes up to his father’s.

That cold, pseudo smile stretches unnaturally, his jaw dislocating and slowly gaping, tearing the flesh of his cheeks before falling onto Louis’s lap.

As Louis tries to find the strength to scoot himself away, crying out in both silent terror and agony, his father falls apart, limb by limb, soaking his suit and beating down against his legs.

‘Shit! Shit-no! Dad!’ he tries to scream. ‘Please, no!’

Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head so hard it rattles his brain, putting him in a dizzy haze, Louis tries to wake up.

‘I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!’

There’s clapping, sharp smacks that beat in time with his hard and fearful heart.

They’re standing, all of them, applauding. Faceless figures, familiar and slathered in shadows.

Banging on the doors. Shaking wood, muffled crying. More bangs.

Louis covers his ears by tucking his head between his knees, frantically murmuring, ‘Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!’

The doors open, and there’s a heavy thud of a body crashing through.

When Louis dares to open his eyes, that dread rushes black, heavy and throbbing, through his veins.

Clementine’s beautiful white dress is shredded, hanging loosely over her shoulder and falling over one side of her torso. On her hands and knees, arms and legs bruised and scratched, she’s crawling towards him with pleading, golden eyes. The wound, the bite, rots the skin around her neck and shoulder.

She gasps out, “Louis!”

But, he can’t move. He can’t go to her. He can only watch her collapse in front of him.

He’s shaking, shaking, shaking-

“Hey-!”

-shaking, shaking, shaking-

“Louis!”

-shaking-

Louis jerks up, gasping for air.

Firm hands grip his arm. Instinctively, he pushes away, crashing to the ground and taking the chair he sat upon with him. His calf smacks hard against the leg of the table, sending a jolt of pain through his thigh and up his side.

“Dude, shit!”

Louis scoots away disoriented until his back hits the closet doors. Heart racing, smashing brutally heavy in his chest as he takes in as much air as his lungs can handle. The muscles of his neck and back are tense, tightening with each movement. He grasps at his throat as his wide, teary eyes search desperately within the dark room for his father, for Clementine, but all he sees is Aasim’s panicked face.

“Louis, calm down!” Aasim kneels in front of him and raises a trepid hand, hesitating to actually touch him.

“ Shit -” Louis croaks out, coughing. He rubs at his face, wiping away the cold sweat clinging to his skin and tries to settle his breathing. He can feel Aasim move close, tentative and confused.

Under that questioning gaze, all Louis can give is numerous heaving huffs as he tries to calm himself down.

“You knocked over my pencil can,” Aasim says slowly, leaning forward to try and read Louis’ expression. “It woke me up. You were freaking out and- shit, you scared the hell outta me. I thought-”

The sudden pause is obvious, as is the confusion melting into deep concern. When hotness drips down his cheeks, Louis realizes that he’s crying. Not the choking, can’t breathe kind of crying, but one stemmed from shock and humiliation. Quiet, slow tears.

“Hey…” Aasim’s voice is soft, unsure. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Shame warms his skin as Louis glances away, lowering his head and wiping his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” His throat is so unpleasantly hoarse that it hurts to speak too loud. “I’m sorry.”

Aasim scrambles to a stand, pausing only briefly to shoot Louis another apprehensive look before grabbing his water bottle off the nightstand. This time he sits cross-legged in front of Louis as he offers him the drink.

“Here.”

Louis only looks at it until Aasim motions it towards him, silently telling him to take it.

He takes a small sip, grimacing at how hard it is to swallow, but after a few attempts, he’s chugging the whole thing, no longer caring how desperate or foolish he looks.

Louis breathes in deeply, mouth and throat sated and his pulse beginning to calm. He avoids Aasim’s eye, instead glancing over at the mess of pencils on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, sniffling.

“Uh,” Aasim scratches at his scruffy chin, “Are you- uhm…”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, coughing, “I should’ve warned you, but,” he cuts himself off, biting his bottom lip.

Fuck.

It was stupid to think he could have a peaceful rest the night before his wedding. Luckily, the dream wasn’t one that paralyzed him, unlike ones he’s had in the past. Parts of it were already beginning to fade, leaving only the prominent details to haunt his mind.

His father, or rather, the thing that resembled his father and the rotten finger, Clementine crawling towards him; those are the things standing out now, engraved in his memory.

“Warned me?” Aasim mumbles to himself, cocking his head curiously.

“About… this.”

“Wait, this happens a lot?”

Louis hesitates. “...Yeah, uhm, it’s- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He gives him back the empty bottle, murmuring, “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Aasim says, but makes no move to get up.

They sit there in awkward silence, and Louis can see that Aasim’s racking his brain for something to say.

“You had a pretty bad nightmare, I assume?”

Louis nods.

“That makes sense,” Aasim says slowly, eyes sliding awkwardly, almost afraid of contact. “What was it about?”

Death. Misery. Guilt. Everything else in between.

A manifestation of what he’s truly afraid of.

It’s definitely not the first time he’s dreamt of his father. Back when he was younger, he had much fonder dreams about his parents; eating dinner together, going on vacation, swimming in their pool on the hottest days of summer.

God, he had loved that pool.

On weekends, when his father was home, Louis would drag him outside and beg him to throw him in, sometimes crying fat tears when his father snapped a “no” at him.

But, on rare occasions, his father would laugh and say, “That’s what the diving board’s for,” but it was never the same as when his father picked him up and tossed him in himself.

Sometimes he could even convince him to swim with him, teach him how to float on his back, how to flip himself around off the diving board, have contests to see who could hold their breath the longest.

After he ruined everything and they sent him to Ericson, and the world went to shit, he forced himself to only think about good things. He’d pretend that he hadn’t destroyed his parent's lives, pretended that they were on their way get him and apologize for leaving him there in the first place.

And they never did.

So, Louis’ willpower to only think about the good things cracked, then shattered.

Spoiled, vindictive, unapologetically cruel.

That’s the kid his parents left behind and next looked back.

That’s who Louis was.

And that’s only the beginning of the universe punishing him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aasim tries again.

“Do you really wanna hear about it?”

“Yes.”

Louis shoots him a skeptical look.

“Sometimes you feel better when you get it all out on the table,” Aasim elaborates. “As I said before, it’s probably the pre-wedding jitters that’s got you freaked out.”

“And you want to listen to me?”

“Yeah,” Aasim frowns. “I haven’t seen you this scared since-” he bites his lip, glancing away, “-since what happened on the delta.”

“When I killed Dorian.”

“...Yeah.”

There are times where Louis forgets he wasn’t the only person there at that moment, that Aasim and Omar watched him as he pulled the trigger that sent the arrow right through her mouth and into her skull.

He didn’t see their reactions or even hear them. The moment she fell onto the ground before him, motionless and bleeding out, nothing else existed.

That’s where the real swelling shame came in.

He just sat there in absolute shock, frozen and nearly faint, and even tossed away his weapon.

In those seconds of hesitation, had Minerva not been distracted by the death of her apparent delta family member, Clementine could’ve been killed.

All because he couldn’t do one goddamn thing right.

“Was it about her?” Aasim softly asks.

“No.”

For once, Dorian left him alone.

Aasim shifts then crawls over to sit beside him with their shoulders touching.

“You’re not a murderer, you know.”

Louis scoffs. “No?”

“It was self-defense.”

It was self-defense.

She would’ve killed you if you hadn’t reacted.

It was her or you, Louis.

“That still doesn’t make me feel good about it,” Louis brings his knees closer to his chest, resting his chin on them and closing his eyes. “The one thing I’ve always been afraid of after the world went to hell was that I’d have to kill somebody. Doesn’t matter why or how, it’s just something I never, ever wanted to do.”

He stares forward, focusing on the darkness behind the window’s thick curtains.

“You’ve never had to do it,” Louis mumbles.  

“We killed the rest of them.”

“Not like that, not personally. We injured and left them to the walkers.”

“Some might say that’s worse, but we couldn’t just leave them alive. Shit, just- just like how we couldn’t take Minnie with us after she passed out.”

“I know.”

Aasim stretches his legs out, leaning forward in an attempt to de-stress his stiff back. “Look, you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like,” he admits, “but it doesn’t change the fact that what you did helped break us out. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shot her. We would’ve blown up with the boat, just like the rest of them.”

“I know,” Louis repeats, this time more harshly. “But that also doesn’t change the fact that I still have fucking nightmares about it, some so bad I can’t breathe or see straight. You have no idea how many nights I’ve woken Clementine and AJ up because I still can’t get my shit together and- fuck, they deserve a peaceful night of sleep, not a blubbering idiot who can’t get out of his own damn head.”

His throat’s tightening again with each emotionally bitter word he spits. Meeting Aasim’s wide eyes, he adds, “I know you’re trying to help, but there’s nothing you, or anyone- not even Clementine- can say that will ever make them go away.”

Aasim listens,  really  listens to every word he says, never once looking away from him. He’s hesitant but places a wary hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis sighs. “Ruby insisted I stay here, but I should’ve just slept in my old room. I’m just sorry that you had to see that.”

“I’m not,” Aasim replies. “I had no idea this was even a thing for you.”

“No one does, ‘cept Clem and AJ.”

Aasim pulls his hand back, curling his fingers together to rest in his lap, staring down at them with a contemplative frown.

Then, he shrugs and quietly confesses, “I have them, too. About the delta.”

Louis lets go of his knees, his legs sliding down to stretch out into a position similar to Aasim’s. He cocks his head, waiting for him to continue.

“They’re fuzzy, most of the time. I’m back in that cell by myself and Lilly comes in to ‘talk.’ She always tells me that she killed you guys, all of you, and once I see your bodies, I’ll ‘understand,’” he grimaces. “She’s going to ‘turn me into the best damn soldier the delta’s ever seen.’”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Aasim rubs at his tired eyes. “But, then I wake up in my own bed. No Lilly, no boat, you guys are alive, and I’m not a soldier. I’m still me.”

“Does it ever keep you up at night?”

“It has. Usually, I can’t fall back asleep. Too scared,” he shrugs. “So, I just grab my book, write down what I remember, and get an early start on the day and try not to think about it.”

“That easy?”

“What else can I do?”

Louis chews on his lip, turning away again. “You’re a lot stronger than me.”

“No, we just- we’re different. We saw and did different things, and, as you know, we’re not exactly two peas in a pod when it comes to thinking or reacting.”

That gets a breathy laugh out of Louis, which Aasim’s pleased to hear.

“No, we’re not,” Louis agrees.

It feels good to laugh, even if it’s barely a chuckle. The exhaustion that usually grabs a hold of his after a nightmare is present in each of his limbs, weighing him down.

“Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay.”

The boys stand now, muscles sore and stiff from sitting on the ground too long. Louis moves to pick up the pencils he knocked over, slipping them back into the can and placing it back on the desk.

The notebook he’d been writing his vows down is still open. He glances over the works with a tiny grin, hearing Aasim sit on his bed with a huff, repressing a yawn.

He doesn’t want to think about nightmares anymore. He wants them all to go away, leave him alone and let him live in peace. It’s the night- or is it early morning now?- of his wedding, his marriage to the love of his life. He shouldn’t be here thinking about his father or Clementine dying or the repercussions of what he did as a child coming back to haunt him.

He should be smiling, worrying about not getting enough sleep because he can’t wait to see her walk down that aisle towards him.

He needs a distraction.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, turning back to Aasim.

“Sure.”

“How come you never told Ruby you liked her?”

The question isn't teasing, but genuine.

Aasim’s silent, but even in the dark Louis can tell from the thoughtful raise of his brows that he didn’t know that answer himself. He ponders on the idea, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“Honestly?” he finally says.

“Yeah.”

“I was scared. When I stayed with her to patch up Omar’s leg, she hugged me and told me how happy she was to see me alive and- and I knew I probably could’ve told her, but it didn’t feel right. It never feels right.”

“I don’t think there’s a single right moment, Aasim,” Louis says. “You should tell her. She might like you, too.”

“Doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Have you met me?”

“You’re a bit of a sourpuss, but it’s part of your charm.”

Aasim scoffs.

“And you’re smart,” Louis continues. “Like, really smart. You’re reliable, honest, a damn good hunter, you know how to be kind, and you’re not bad looking.”

“Dude.”

“Looks, brawn, kindness,  and  smarts. You’re the complete package. In fact, how come Ruby's not the one who's head over heels?”

“She doesn’t care about any of that,” Aasim rolls his eyes. “Why are you asking, anyway? I think I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t like her anymore.”

Even Aasim himself didn’t believe the words as he spoke them.

“I was just thinking… I have someone to help me through the nightmares, but you don’t, and that kind of sucks.”

“And, your point is?”

“My point is I think you should go for it.”

Aasim looks away, scowling.

“I’m serious. Look-” Louis approaches the bed, hands on his hips, “-you’re not fooling anyone. Admit it, you still really like her. I’m not saying you have to confess your undying love, but maybe you could show your interest a little more? Like, for example… asking her to dance tomorrow?”

“I don’t dance.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Aasim refuses to look anywhere but the floor now, absently scratching at his wrist.

“I don’t know  how  to dance,” he timidly admits.

“So? Ruby can teach you. It’d be a nice bonding moment for the two of you.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“How?” he laughs. “She’d probably think it’s cute.”

“Or lame.”

Then, Louis gets an idea, and Aasim must see the gears turning in his head because he thrusts his hand up towards Louis’ mischievous face.

“Whatever you’re thinking,  no .”

“You don’t even know what I was going to suggest!”

“I don’t need to because the answer is still no!”

“That signature sourpuss isn’t going to win over sweet Ruby’s heart, y’know.”

Louis moves across the room, leaning against the bookcase and folding his arms over his chest. “Now, seeing how I’m probably not going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon after my freakout, why don’t we play a little game? I’m going to stand over here and pretend I’m Ruby-”

“Dude,  no -”

“-and you’re going to ask me to dance.”

“Uh, no, I’m not!”

“ Oh, Aasim, ain’t this just the most rootin’ tootin’est hootenany you’ve ever seen ?”

Aasim gapes up at him, on the verge of a dry laugh at the terrible accent Louis’ trying to pull over.

“That’s- that’s not what she sounds like!”

“Close enough,” Louis winks. Dramatically pressing the back of his hand against his forehead, he laments, “ Oh, look a Lou and Clem dancin’ so perfectly together! If only there was a devilishly handsome -”

“Oh my god-”

“- young fella who would come ‘n sweep me off my feet -”

“You’re fucking ridiculous-”

“- and dance the night away with me !”

Aasim can’t help it.

It might be from lack of sleep or from nerves, but he’s wheezing at the stupidity before him. Louis has said some idiotic things before, hell, some that even got a chuckle out of him, but this-

How the hell did they go from exhaustion-inducing nightmares to  this ?

Louis breaks character to laugh along with him, not caring if they’re being too loud.

Of course, if anyone walked by their room, they might think two madmen live inside, one with a very poor, very fake southern drawl and the other an old chain smoker who can’t breathe.

“We’re not doing this,” Aasim coughs, chuckling into his hand.

“C’mon, man, it’ll help! I swear!”

“Do  you  even know how to dance?”

Louis proudly grabs the openings of his jacket, shooting him a wide smile.

“Nope!”

“Awesome.”

“Hence why we should practice. It can't be that hard,” Louis clears his throat. “ If only Aasim would notice me over here all by my lonesome !”

“This is so stupid.”

“ All by my lonesome! ”

Aasim rests his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that he’s actually considering going along with this nonsense.

But he does. 

"Now, ya just put yer hand here-"

"Please stop talking like that."

"Makin' fun of a girl's accent is really rude, mister."

"Louis."

"Don't go steppin' on my toes!"

"Louis."

Aasim presses his heel into Louis' boot.

"Ow! Okay, I'll stop."

It's strange, a little unpleasant, but at least Aasim learns what not to do when dancing within the hour or so of dance practice before the exhaustion send both of them plummeting down into their respective beds. 

---

“Alright, Willy, yer all set.”

Ruby pulls the sheet off from around Willy’s neck as the young boy excitedly hops up from the stool, his eager hands reaching up to feel his head.

He agreed to a haircut on one condition: mohawk.

Ruby didn’t fight it. Anything’s better than the dirty, scraggly mess he had before, and the style did actually look charming on him. Studying him now, she thinks it makes him look tougher, meaner. In a good way, of course.

“Woah,” Willy grins far too wide as he feels the short, prickly hairs on the sides of his head. The top strip, still damp from Ruby’s spray bottle, lays flat until he runs his fingers through it, spiking it up.

“See? Don’t’cha feel much better?”

“It looks cool, right?”

“Real cool.”

Willy gives Ruby a big smile before hurrying over to the ladder in the center of the room where Mitch is quietly working on attaching the smaller string lights to the chandelier.

“Mitch!”

“Hm?”

Mitch’s tired eyes glance away from his work and down towards the young boy. Upon seeing him, he smirks.

“Shit, look at you,” he says. “Badass.”

“Yeah? You should do it, too!”

“Pfft, yeah, probably not-  shit !”

One of the small battery packs comes loose, causing it and the lights attached to it to fall to the ground. Willy’s quick to move around the ladder and examine the battery pack.

“Did it bust?”

“No, it's okay.” Willy reaches up to hand it to him after wiping it on his shirt. “Do you need help?”

“Nah.” Mitch shakes his head, pausing to suppress a yawn. He jerks his chin over towards the doors. “You can start lining the aisle.”

When Willy doesn’t respond or move, Mitch peers back down at him with a raised brow. Willy’s gazing up at him with his head cocked, a question lingering in his eye. When he opens his mouth to speak, Mitch cuts him off.

“Make sure the batteries are near the doors, then line them up coming this way.”

Willy frowns, but nods and does as he’s told.

With a small sigh, Mitch rubs his eyes and nose on his sleeve, mentally cursing himself to snap out of this haze. Grabbing more black tape from his belt, he secures the battery pack to the chandelier. He leans away to study his work, keeping his grip firm on the ladder as to not wobble backward.

He decided that they’d use the small, dainty lights to hang down above their heads, figuring that when it got dark enough, it’d look like little stars or fireflies floating in the air.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out the last one. He doesn’t have enough room to attach it, but he’s sure he can find another use for it somewhere in here.

Before he climbs down the ladder, he checks to make sure the other lights he has attached, the bigger ones, are fixed tight.

He stayed up late attaching all the lights to the chandelier before sticking the batteries to the walls. When he checked to make sure they were all still working, lighting them up one at a time, the room lit with a golden glow prettier than anything a candle could give.

It’d been quite a sight to just stand there alone, staring up at the bright ceiling.

“Mitch!” Ruby calls. “Yer turn!”

He scowls, lowering his head. Another yawn builds in his throat.

Without a word, he drags his feet over to Ruby and plops down on the stool, crossing his arms and staring off at the wall covered in white and gold hearts.

Ruby waits for the complaints, the argument, the curses but they don’t come. Mitch just sits there, waiting.

She drapes the sheet around his front and secures it behind his neck, pulling out the locks of hair caught under.

Dampening the hair with her spray bottle, she combs through it to work out any knots. Surprisingly, his hair isn’t that tangled. It’s the longest it’s ever been, damn near touching his shoulders. In fact, when was the last time she gave him a haircut? A year ago? Year and a half?

He’d really complained then. She remembers having to threaten to shave his head in his sleep to get him to cooperate. That threat prompted the little mishap in the greenhouse the next day, but she tries not to think about that. If she does, she’ll end up pissed and ready to yank the brown locks right out of his head.

So, instead of that, she attempts to make conversation.

“The lights turned out better than I thought,” she says, gently pressing his head forward to give better access to the nape of his neck. “Gotta say, I’m real impressed.”

Mitch grunts, grumbling, “And you wanted to use candles.”

“We’re still usin’ some, and I got the box over there incase any’a them go out.”

“They won’t go out. Checked ‘em last night.”

“That why yer so tired?”

Mitch doesn’t reply.

She can’t help but notice how off he’d been acting since he walked into the music room this morning. She’d been bursting with energy, thrilled that the day’s finally here. She listed off all the things that still needed to be done and all he did was look at her. He’d heard her, sure, but didn’t say much.

Usually, they would’ve been snapping at each other about this or that, but no.

Mitch didn’t even mumble to himself the entire time he worked. He  always  mumbles to himself when he’s working.

What could he be so sore about on a day like this?

It’s not like she could ask him how he’s feeling; for whatever reason, that always pushed the defense button for him.

Of all the kids she’d grown up and survived this nasty world with, Mitch was one she could never truly figure out. Sometimes she can guess his next move, other times he does something so bizarre that it actually hurts her brain when she tries to wrap her head around it.

“Gonna go see Clem later,” she says. “Fix up her hair real nice. Wonder if she’s picked out her shirt yet.”

Mitch shrugs a shoulder in response.

“Oh, and don’t ferget, I left some clothes in yer room. I’m thinkin’ that black button down shirt’ll look nice on ya. If that one don’t fit, wear the blue one.”

“Fine.”

They finish the rest of the haircut in silence.

Ruby brushes off the chunks of hair from his shoulders before pulling off the sheet. Mitch stands, rolling his shoulders and neck before turning to her.

He looks so much better, she decides. While still short in the back and on the sides, she let him keep some of his bangs, which he now pushes back. With it still being damp, it stays that way, revealing his whole scowling face.

Ruby smirks. “Y’know, you could be real handsome if ya smiled more.”

He doesn’t find that amusing.

“Shut up.”

“Jus’ sayin’.”

They hear Willy snickering over by the door, covering his mouth to try and hide it as he lines the aisle with lights.

Ruby sets aside her scissors, keeping an eye on Mitch as he feels around his neck.

Boy, he does look tired.

Now that she’s seeing him up close, the darkness lining his eyes is prominent, and his sunken posture is more than noticeable. She didn’t think working with those lights all week had taken that much of a toll on him, especially since he seemed perfectly fine yesterday.

She lightly hits his arm. “Hey? You okay?”

“Fine.”

There goes the button.

Ruby sighs. “Said ya were up late last night, right? Why don’t’cha go rest a while.”

Mitch crosses his arms again, glaring down at the floor. “No. I-” he glances up at the chandelier, “I got other things to do.”

“Like what? Aren’t’cha done with the lights?”

“Yeah.”

“Are ya gonna help the boys with the arbor?”

“No.”

Ruby quirks a brow. “So…?”

“I’m goin’ hunting. Someone’s gotta catch something for Omar to cook tonight, right?”

“Oh,” Ruby raises a curious brow. “I was gonna send Aasim and Louis out. Y’know, make sure Lou don’t try ‘n sneak a peek at Clem before the weddin’.”

“Doesn’t he have groom stuff to do?”

“Like?”

“Shit, I don't know, groom stuff. And, isn't Aasim’s his babysitter?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that-”

“Then, they’re busy,” Mitch says firmly. “I’m going. Besides-” he finally meets her eye, “-been cooped up here all week. Need to get outta here a while.”

“Well,” Ruby frowns. “Alright. Who ya takin’?”

At that, Mitch’s shoulders slump further.

“I can go,” Willy volunteers.

“No,” Mitch snaps harshly, startling the both of them. Upon seeing Willy’s wide eyes, his face softens just a bit. “I mean, you gotta stay and help Tenn and AJ with the arbor. I-” he breathes a frustrated sigh and heads for the door, “I’m taking James.”

Before either of them can say anything, he’s gone.

“Any idea what’s up?” Ruby asks, sharing the same concerned look as the boy beside her.

Willy shrugs. “No clue. But, is James even back yet? He left last night without telling anybody.”

“Haven’t heard.”

“Oh.”

Willy returns his distressed stare back to the open doors, thoughts still stuck on Mitch.

“Is- is he gonna be okay?”

Ruby turns to peer up at the chandelier with a thoughtful look. “I think so. Nothin’ bothers him fer too long, right?”

“Maybe,” Willy frowns. “He was being weird last night, too.”

When Willy got off watch and went to check on him in the basement, he’d heard a small crash followed by a string of curses. When he rushed down there in a panic, he found one of the shelves on the bookcase they kept down there broken in half and Mitch sitting on the stool, holding his foot.

He hadn’t hurt himself too bad, but that did nothing to ease Willy’s growing worry.

“That so?”

“Yeah… didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“Whatta surprise.”

Ruby decides not to fret. Whatever it is that’s bothering him, he’ll work it out. Maybe it’s a good thing to send him and James out instead. The fresh air will perk him up and he can blow off some steam, and if James is with him, she doesn’t have to worry about him getting hurt.

If he came back with that sourpuss still tugging on his face, then she’d talk some sense into him. Right now, she has to focus on getting everyone ready and working on the final touches of the music room.

If Clementine and Louis thought the place was beautiful for the proposal, then they’re going to be floored at how downright gorgeous it’ll be for their wedding.

As she sweeps the clumps of hair off the floor and into a dustpan, she realizes that she won’t be able to do anything with her own locks, at least, not by herself. While she was fairly good at doing the other kids hair, she could never seem to do much with her own.

However, there’s an easy solution.

The only person she’s ever dared let cut her hair in the past is Aasim. To make matters even better, she knew Aasim could do lovely braids. She watched him to it to Sophie’s hair years ago.

A smile stretches her lips at the thought.

“Willy, go out ‘n help the boys. I’m gonna go check on Lou and Aasim.”

---

The ceiling slowly comes into focus.

Clementine’s laid awake for a while now, comfortable on her back with eyes kept shut, only blinking up at the dust particles floating through the air whenever the curtains flutter, letting in more light.

She hasn’t woken up so calm, yet so restless in a long time. Even in her empty room, her empty bed, she finds herself at peace with a tiny grin adorning her lips. When she sits up, there’s no grogginess, no temptation to cover her head with the pillow and try to find sleep again.

Talking to Lee always makes her feel like this, even though she knows it's not real. 

Even so, the images of her dream fade in and out, bleed together into an emotional mess. 

She wonders to herself, or more so worries if Louis slept as well as she did.

Not that she could go find him and make sure. Ruby would throw a fit if they saw each other before the wedding. She doesn’t know if it’s really bad luck, because how could it be?

Then again, the bad luck might come in the form of a wooden spoon, courtesy of Ruby.

The door inches open noisily. AJ slides in, attempting to close it as quietly as possible. He’s carrying a cup of steaming coffee, the strong, bitter scent wafting through the air. When the hinges of the door continue to make more awful creaking noises, he shushes the inanimate object.

“It’s okay, goofball, I’m awake.”

AJ jumps at her voice, nearly dropping the hot mug. Whipping around, he pouts, “I told you I don’t like that name.”

“You’re right,” she smirks, leaning up on her elbows. “It’s okay,  shitbird , I’m awake.”

“Hey!” AJ giggles, playfully glaring as he hands her the coffee. “That’s mean!  You’re  a shitbird!”

“Not as much as you are.”

As she sips the coffee, AJ hops up beside her.  

"Today's the day!"

"It is."

“I’m excited. Are you excited?” he asks eagerly, practically bouncing. Seems he’s already forgotten about the shitbird insult, his zealous anticipation of what’s to come later today taking over.

“More than you know, kiddo,” Clementine beams. She downs the rest of the coffee, savoring the heat as it fills her belly and spreads warmth throughout her. “You know everything you’re supposed to do?”

“Yep! I’m helping the others and keeping an eye on you until we’re ready, then when it gets dark enough, I gotta come get you so I can walk with you and, uh, give- give you something?”

“Give me away,” she corrects.

“Give you away,” he says firmly, then cocks his head to the side with that thoughtful look he gets when he’s attempting to understand something alien to him.

“Give you away,” he repeats. “That sounds weird, like you’re a toy or something. Give you away.”

Clementine laughs, saying, “Well, you’re not literally giving me away, AJ.”

“I know. It’s just a weird thing to say. Why do they say that?”

She studies him for a moment, trying to piece together the right way to explain it to him.

“Remember when I first told you that I was going to propose to Louis?”

“‘Course I do.”

“And remember when I asked for your blessing to marry him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, think of it like that, but this time you’re giving  Louis  your blessing to marry  me . That’s basically what it means, like, you’re ‘give me away’ to him to show that you’re okay with us getting married.”

“Oh,” AJ nods. “Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes more sense. I’m giving you guys my blessing.” He smiles brightly, leaning over to hug around her waist. “I’m gonna give you guys my best blessing!”

She holds him back, chuckling. “How’s everything else looking?”

“Well, I can’t tell you too much because it’s a surprise, but me and Tenn made something super awesome last night and- and we’re working on something even cooler today!” he gushes.

“Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

“You’re gonna love it! Louis, too!”

“Have you talked to him this morning?”

“No,” AJ shakes his head, pulling back to look up at her. “He and Aasim are still asleep.”

“Really?”

Clementine stands to look through the window. The full daylight shines brightly over the school, leaving behind any chill morning brought. While not quite noon, it’s still a little late to sleep in, even for Louis. That knowledge does nothing to ease the anxious tightening within her.

“Can you go check on him?”

“Yeah, I can.” AJ presses his fingers together, picking at the skin around his nails as he asks, “If he had a bad dream, he’d come get us, right?”

“Well,” she starts, glancing back at the boy, “given what’s going on, he might not. He’s probably fine, I just want to make sure.”

“I’ll go after I help Tenn. I told him that I’d meet him out there soon, but I wanted to see you first,” AJ says, then his brows knit together earnestly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” Clementine asks as she leans against the dresser. “About the wedding?”

“That, and some other stuff. I know you said not much is gonna be different afterward, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- well, I was thinking- actually, Tenn and I talked,” AJ stumbles over his words. “You and Louis like to be alone, right?”

“Sometimes,” she replies hesitantly. “Why?”

“Tenn was telling me some stuff, like how married people like to spend more time alone together in their rooms.”

Heated dread tingles along her neck.

She knows her mind might be rushing straight into the gutter, but the possibility of Tenn telling AJ about  certain things  isn’t unthinkable, and if he’s about to ask her questions referring to-

“And I realized something,” he stands up from the bed and walks towards his own, “I bother you guys sometimes, don’t I?”

“What? AJ, you don’t bother us.”

“Yeah, I do. Sometimes I walk in and you two move away from each other really fast and you say weird stuff and it’s… weird.”

“Uh, well-”

“I know you guys like to kiss. A lot.” AJ crosses his arms, staring up at her with a ‘don’t even deny it’ look. “And I know you don’t like to do it in front of me, and if I’m always coming in here and bothering you…”

“AJ,” Clementine sighs. “Look, Louis and I do like to spend alone time together, but that doesn’t mean we don’t like hanging out with you, too.”

“I know.” AJ unfolds his arms, glancing over his shoulder and back at his bed. “I’ve been spending the night at Tenn’s a lot. Having sleepovers, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

AJ faces her now, saying, “Tenn asked if I wanted to move in with him, like as roommates.”

Her brows shot up in shock.

That’s nowhere near what she had been excepting.

“When did that happen?”

“Last night. I’ve been thinking really hard about it, and it might not be a bad idea. I mean, I like sleeping in here with you guys, and- and it might be scary sometimes sleeping away from you for more than a night, but I’m gonna be brave.”

AJ stands up straight, chest puffed out with confidence.

“I’m getting older, and I gotta do things on my own.”

“AJ, are you sure?” she asks. “You don’t have to feel bad about being in here with us. Does Tenn even have room for you?”

“Yeah, he’s got another bed and lots of closet space. I can move my things in today, after we finish our secret project, spend the night there. This is a good thing, Clem.”

“I-”

Clementine doesn’t know what to say. The thought of AJ one day moving out never actually crossed her mind. She always assumed that he’d continue having sleepovers with Tenn every so often, but now that she looks at him, he may have a point.

He  is  getting older.

Now, around the age of seven- hell, maybe even eight at this point- he’s grown taller, lost a little of that baby fat in his cheeks. When she really looks at him, studies his face, she can almost see Rebecca in his every feature.

Except for his eyes.

He has his father’s kind eyes. Even when they’re angry, or sad, or tired, the shape and color are Alvin’s.

He’s not the same child who first walked in through the gates with her two years ago. He doesn’t always look to her for all the answers. He makes his own decisions for himself, regardless of her input.

Eventually, AJ would be a preteen, then a teenager.

Somehow, that thought quivers her chin, tightens her throat.

“I think being Tenn’s roommate will be fun,” he says. “And, maybe one day, when I’m even braver and stronger… maybe I could get a room of my own? With just my stuff?”

Clementine swallows thickly, saying, “Think you’ll be able to handle that?”

“One day.”

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek.

“But, if there is a night when I’m scared, or mad at Tenn, then I can just have a sleepover here, right?”

Clementine grins. “Of course, but do you really think you’re ready for a change like this?”

“Yes,” he answers assuredly.

The way he looks at her, so sure, so confident in himself, it swells such an emotional pride in her chest that she can’t help but pull him into a hug.

“Okay, shitbird, if it’s what you really want, we can give it a try and see where it goes.”

“ Hey !” AJ’s hands move to his hips, teasingly glaring at her. "Quit calling me that!"

“You’re the one who said you didn’t like goofball.”

“Shitbird isn’t any better!”

“I think it is,” she smirks. 

“Because  you’re  a shitbird!”

“Maybe. But, you know what you are?”

“Not a shitbird?”

“No, you're  ticklish!”

“Ah- haha, hey!”

---

James slept in the woods last night.

If the wedding wasn’t today, he would’ve stayed out there for the rest of the week.

Back inside the walls of the school grounds, Tenn’s decorating the arbor with leaves and flowers, weaving them through the small openings to try and hide any of the fencings they used. Willy’s standing on a stool and using old fishing wire to dangle some of the white and gold paper hearts.

AJ’s running from the entrance of the school, waving at them and excitedly telling Tenn something before getting to work with the arbor.

It brings a small smile to James’ face watching the three boys work together. They’d been so thrilled to decorate it after he and Mitch finished shaping and securing it for them.

Willy happily waves at him, shouting, “Hey! Whattya think?”

“Looks wonderful,” James calls back, giving them a thumbs up.

He spots Omar sitting on the couch with Rosie resting beside him, a faraway look lingering in his eye and a subtle grin tugging on his lips.

Figuring the boys are okay for the moment, James wanders over to Omar.

Rosie’s head jerks up, ears stiff and alert, but upon seeing it’s him, she relaxes, laying her head on Omar’s leg.

“Hello,” James quietly greets, sitting in the chair beside him.

“Hey,” Omar smiles. “Noticed you didn’t come back last night. Willy was worried you’d miss the wedding.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” he shakes his head. “Just… needed some time alone.”

“Too much socializing?”

“You could say that.”

He watches AJ stand on his tippy toes, nearly off balance as he tries to swat at the dangling hearts with his cheeks puffed out in concentration. Tenn’s giggling into his hand, amused at his friend’s attempt to prove how tall he’s gotten.

“Had watch with AJ last night,” Omar says, pointing over at the chortling boys. “Know what he said to me?”

“Hm?”

Omar smirks, recalling the night before. “He was telling me how much fun this week’s been, planning for the wedding and all. He said he’ll be sad when it’s over, when we have to go back to ‘boring’ stuff.”

“It has been an exciting time for him. Makes sense that he’d be sad when it’s over.”

“I told him that maybe we’d throw another party in the future. I suggested a Halloween party, since Willy pulled all that stuff out.”

James perks up. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Omar sighs. “Then I had to try and explain what Halloween was.”

AJ nearly falls over, almost taking the arbor with him. Luckily, Willy’s there to grab the back of his shirt and pull him to his feet. Even from far away James can see the clear fluster in his pout.

“He said he can’t wait until one of us gets married next so we can throw another one.”

James’ quirks an interested brow at that. “Did you have to explain how that works to him as well?”

“I did, and all I got back in return was ‘Omar, when are  you  getting married?’” Now he’s  really  laughing. “I think he forgets it takes two.”

James laughs along with him, relieved as the tension leaves his shoulders due to the pleasant conversation. Feeling brave, he jokingly asks, “Well, when  are  you getting married?”

“Oh, soon,  soon ,” he nods, rolling his eyes. “Very soon. I’m thinking any day now Ruby’ll finally throw me over her shoulder and make an honest man of me.”

“Pfft!” James has to cover his mouth before he spat as the laughter rocks his body. He can’t help it; the image is just too hilarious not to laugh at. This catches the attention of the boys, all three of them staring at them with curious eyes.

All of the humor in the air gets Rosie’s interest, as well. She slips off the couch, moving to sit at Omar’s feet and observing him with old, fond eyes.

Omar smiles down at the dog, reaching into his pocket to pull out a busted tennis ball. Rosie’s ears shoot up and her entire body becomes tense. She’s off in a flash when Omar tosses it towards the gate.

“I’m just teasing,” Omar says before eyeing James with a smirk. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“She probably wouldn’t find it so funny anyway.”

“Neither would Aasim.”

Rosie comes back with the ball, dropping it in Omar’s hand and readying herself, eyes stuck intensely on his every move. As he sends it soaring through the air again, Omar sighs, saying, “In all seriousness, though? I just don’t see it in my future.”

“No?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “No disrespect to our group, but there aren’t a lotta options. Then again, even when our group was bigger, I could never see myself feeling that way about someone, y’know?”

“I suppose it’s not for everyone.”

Omar nods, humming. “I’m happy for them, though. Clem and Louis are good for each other. I can only wish them the best from here on out. Truth be told, I think I’d rather be an outsider to it all anyway. A witness to it happening, you know.”

“There is something about watching two people fall for each other.”

“There is,” Omar agrees. “‘Course, it can be pretty frustrating, too.”

“How so?”

Omar glances around. Then, as he throws the ball once more, he gives James a smirk and whispers, “Do you ever see Aasim talking to Ruby and think to yourself, ‘Aasim, buddy, just go for it! You’re killing me over here!’”

Oh yes.

It’s no secret around the school that Aasim has feelings for Ruby, even though he bends over backward to deny it.

When James first became acquainted with the group and they worked out their system, no one had to tell him about it. It was as clear as pure water that Aasim’s gaze always lingered on the girl, his lips curved into an involuntary grin. There was something about the way he spoke to her, so soft but alert, like he was ready to hang onto her every word.

Which is why it’s so odd that he denies it so fiercely.

Perhaps it’s due to years of Louis’ harmless teasing, or because Aasim, despite being vocal when it came to important matters and unafraid to voice his opinion, is actually shy when it comes to things like this. Maybe that’s why he becomes so defensive when someone teases him about it.

Which, they do.

A lot.

The only one who doesn’t seem to notice is Ruby herself.

Which, yes, is frustrating to those around them.

Mitch once said that someone should tell her so she can put Aasim out of his misery. Of course, James had argued that Ruby might like him back if she knew he were interested, but it’s best not to interfere in the first place.  

“Maybe he’s not ready,” James finally says.

“Not ready? How much time do you need?” Omar asks. “It’s been, what? Three, four years? You’d think Ruby’d at least get the hint.”

“She might not be ready, either.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Omar shrugs. Rosie drops the ball again. Her long tongue hangs out the side of her mouth as she gleefully pants. For a dog of her age, she still moves as well as a young pup. It’s rather impressive, James thinks.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Ever think about it?”

“About… telling Ruby?”

“No, I mean-” Omar throws the ball again. This time it bounces and hits Willy in the leg, earning them both a  “Hey!”  and a glare. Rosie doesn’t run this time, she strides at a comfortable pace. “Just, about romance in general, I guess.”

Of course he does.

After leaving the basement, he headed straight through the gates and into the forest, spending most of the night drawing stray walkers back to his barn. As he meandered through the trees, he found himself becoming increasingly distracted several times because he kept thinking about Charlie.

Or, rather, the Charlie he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Then, he thought about Mitch again.

Charlie and Mitch.

Back and forth.

It still stung, a fresh wound torn open just last night, but James couldn’t stop hearing the harshness of Mitch’s voice in his head. He regrets ever bringing up Charlie.

He thought, or perhaps assumed, that he and Mitch had become real friends over the course of the week. Maybe Mitch would understand that it wasn’t just Violet who’s still coping with the loss of a lover, and how that loss isn’t just something a person could forget. Maybe he’d be sympathetic to his friend, apologize for all the mean things he said.

However, that backfired.

Omar notices his silence, leaning over to get a good look at his face before saying, “Hey, sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

James meets his eye, cutting loose his thoughts and returning to reality.

“Don’t wanna bring up bad memories.”

“No, it’s okay,” James gives an unsure smile. “I had someone in my life once, but we’ve since parted ways. I, uh… I used to think these things all the time when we were together.”

James looks down at his hands, a sad grin pulling at his lips.

“It’s pretty silly, but… back when all this happened and we were surviving together, in the quieter moments I would imagine us running away, finding a safe spot in the middle of nowhere, away from people and the walkers. Just the two of us, safe at last, ready to grow old together.”

“That’s not silly.”

“It was at the time. Should’ve been thinking about survival, not… that.”

“Survival isn’t everything,” Omar offers before twisting his mouth. “Well, these days I guess it sort of is, but it doesn’t always have to be the only thing. We’re lucky to have a place where we can have quieter moments, like this one. Where we can talk about things like this with each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t let it take over,” Omar says. “It’s good to remember happier times. Keeps us human.”

James nods slowly, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I do like to think about Charlie sometimes,” he admits quietly. “Talk about him.”

Omar’s sympathetic eyes fall on him now. “Do you miss him?”

“I-” James sighs. “Yes, but I think it’s more I miss the him from before, not the him that I left.”

Omar nods thoughtfully. “Understandable.”

He doesn’t pry any further.

The boys are finished decorating the arbor now, and even from far away he can tell it’s made with love. Fresh branches with green leaves weave throughout it, and little white flowers seem to bloom all over it. The hearts dangle down at different lengths, lightly swaying as the boys carefully lift it up and carry it across the yard.

James can already picture Clementine and Louis standing beneath it, hand in hand, ready to seal the deal with a kiss.

“I ever tell you I had a brother?” asks Omar suddenly.

James turns his attention back to the boy beside him, shaking his head. “No.”

Omar’s grin grows wide. “His name was Marcus, and when I say older brother, I do mean  older.  We were nineteen years apart.”

“Oh,” James says, eyes widening. “That’s… quite a gap.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he nods with a smirk. “I was a ‘happy accident,’ if you will.” He uses finger quotes to emphasize his point. “My parents only wanted to have one, then Ma got sick and found out she was pregnant with me and months later, I popped out.”

“Wow,” James breathes out. “Nineteen years.”

“Marcus was my hero,” Omar beams. “You’d think we wouldn’t have seen each other much, given how old he was, but for a long time it was the opposite. He was still living at home and going to school. I can still remember him coming into my room to tuck me in after getting home. And, even after he moved away, he visited plenty. Always made time for me.”

He sighs then, staring off towards the trees with the ball held firm in his hands.

“It’s weird. I don’t miss my parents nearly as much as I miss him.”

James’ brows raise, surprised. “Really?”

“My parents were… older, I guess. Had a lotta opinions, were very honest. Brutally so. If they thought it, it was right. Couldn’t change their minds. Heh, think that’s why they stayed together. No one else could put up with them beside each other,” Omar frowns. “But, Marcus was different.”

“I can tell you loved him very much.”

“He’s what’s kept me going. His voice in my head telling me what to do. ‘Don’t use all that pepper! You’ll ruin the stew! No, Omar, cook it a little longer! Don’t want your friends to get sick! Kid, go to bed earlier, you know you got watch in the morning.’ Shit like that.” He chuckles then, smirking over at James. “You know what he grew up to do?”

“What?”

“He was a baker. Cakes, cookies, bread, candies, and everything else.” Omar throws the ball, sending Rosie out towards the tables. “Everytime he got an order or when it was someone’s birthday or anniversary or whatever, he’d make the best cakes. And he’d always give me a big spoon full of icing to eat when no one was looking. He’d say he couldn’t ice it ‘til I tried it, said my opinion mattered.”

James studies the tenderness resting in Omar’s eyes, something different that he’d never seen before.

“That why you always cook for us?”

“Oh yeah. When shit really hit the fan and we were eating bland, nasty scraps, I knew that I could make something better, something enjoyable. And-” Omar’s smile dies, becoming a disheartening frown. “-and I told myself that if I keep everyone fed, we’ll survive. We’ll survive a long time and when Marcus comes to get me, he’ll be so proud.”

There’s a tightening in James’ chest, one that almost makes him wince.

“‘Course, I-I’m not delusional. I know he’s not coming. Not because he wouldn’t want to, or because he didn’t try, or because he didn’t love me.” Omar look back at the school building with sullen eyes. “When… when I got sent here, he was working in another country, somewhere in Europe.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He was still there when all this happened. He was so excited to go, him and his buddy, gonna take over the place. They’d be making all sorts of stuff for some crazy expensive bakery. He used to write me letters about his job there and everything he saw, send me pictures and stuff. Still keep ‘em in my room. Read ‘em when things get tough.”

His grin falls, becoming sad.

“And… when I was shot, locked up on that ship after the delta attacked us,” he starts slowly. “Thinking about him, alive and somewhere safe, kept me sane, kept me hopeful. When you guys finally brought me home and let me rest in my room, the first thing I did was pull that box out and look at his picture.”

James offers a comforting smile. “I’m glad you have something of his to remember him by.”

“Yeah, me too. I just-” Omar sighs. “Been thinking about him a lot this week, with the wedding and all.”

Rosie, tired of chasing the ball, hops back up beside Omar, happily panting. He reaches around the rub and scratch her side.

“I wish I had the stuff to make them a cake, you know? Something sweet for all of us to enjoy. Something Marcus would be proud of.”

James smiles, saying, “You’re making dinner, though. That’s something. Louis and Clementine appreciate what you’re doing for them, and I know everyone else appreciates you for all the years of feeding them, as well.”

Omar smirks. “They better. They could’ve had Lou cooking for them. Imagine the food poisoning,” he shudders, drawing a light chuckle from James.

“Hey!”

Both boys turn towards the front doors where Mitch is standing.

James immediately faces forward, feeling that strange, uneasy sting tug at his stomach. All the relaxing humor is gone, replaced with dread at knowing he’s about to face the boy who had truly hurt his feelings last night. He thinks about excusing himself and hurrying away, but Mitch is already there, standing beside him.

“Hey, look at you,” Omar grins. “Ruby got a hold of you, huh?”

“Did’ja think she wouldn’t?”

“It looks good.”

“Whatever.”

“Why can’t you ever take a compliment?”

“I- she’s gonna be looking for you, too, you know!”

“I already told her I don’t need a haircut. I’m growing it out.” Omar points up at the mess of curls tied up on his head with a smirk. “She’s not gettin’ a hold of these luscious locks.”

“Dude.”

James keeps his focus forward, trying to ignore the banter and Mitch’s presence looming over him until a hand bumps his shoulder.

“Hey.”

The first thing he notices is how soft his voice is, like a switch was flipped. The second thing he notices as he blinks up at him is that Omar’s right; his haircut does look nice. His bangs still fall over his forehead, but the length no longer brushes his shoulders or covers most of his face.

He finds his voice, quiet and repressed, cold. “Hello.”

Mitch shifts his weight to one foot and folds his arms over his chest. “We’re goin’ hunting. Grab a bow.”

James thinks he’s misunderstood the words, repeating them slower in his head.

“You guys?” Omar asks. “Thought Louis and Aasim were going?”

“No,” Mitch replies quickly, glancing away. “We are.”

Omar looks between the two, taking note of the obvious tension. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Mitch scowls. He nudges James again. “Let’s go. Meet’cha at the gates.”

Before any more words can be spoken, he turns on his heel and heads towards the gates. James watches him go, his chest and stomach twisting.

---

Aasim’s the only one awake when the banging on the door starts.

He’d been changing into the clothes he set aside for this particular day: a faded pair of dark jeans and a heavy, oversized burgundy sweatshirt.

Through the muffled brightness of the room, he sees Louis lift his head. Lidded, glazed eyes glance around before he turns fully onto his front and smashes his face back into the pillow with a groan.

Aasim rolls his eyes, smirking. He runs his fingers through his bedhead, smoothing it out as he unlocks the door.

Ruby’s rosy-cheeked face grins at him. “There ya are! Thought the two of ya croaked in there.”

Aasim slips out, shutting the door behind him. “Not quite,” he says, straightening out his shirt. “We stayed up pretty late.”

“You, too, huh? Seems like Clem and I were the only early birds last night. Lou's still sleepin,’ I assume?”

Aasim jerks his thumb towards the door. “Yeah, I’d say it’ll be another few hours before I can even attempt to drag him out of bed. We might have to postpone our hunting trip until later.”

“Oh, don’t fret ‘bout that,” Ruby waves her hand dismissively. “Mitch and James are out there now. I got somethin’ else important fer ya to do.”

Before he can ask, she offers him a bag that he knows all too well. That’s also when he notices that she’s brought along her stool, the tall, adjustable one she uses for haircuts. He takes the bag from her with a timid grin.

“Been busy this morning, haven’t you?”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” she chuckles. “Got up real early ta start finishin’ up the music room and cuttin’ all the boys’ hair. Tenn, Willy, Mitch, and I still gotta find James and Omar, and-” she studies him for a moment before smirking, “Oh, I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you. You always stay nice and trimmed.”

The compliment brings a familiar flutter in his stomach, one he tries to repress.

“‘Cept with that scruff,” Ruby teases, pointedly looking at his chin.

Like a reflex, his fingers scratch at the so-called “scruff.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but for the past few months, he’s been trying to grow a full beard. However, it wasn’t the thick, glorious facial hair he dreamed of.

Instead, he got a patchy mess of bald portions and uneven thickness along his jaw and upper lip. He shaved all that off after some stupid comment Mitch made, but left his chin untouched, it being the only place on his face where it grew perfectly. He’d be damned if he’s going to shave all that hard work off.

His face must be amusing because Ruby’s giggling, winking up at him and saying, “I’ll let it pass, though, since it does look mighty handsome, especially paired with that sweatshirt. Nice color on ya.”

Shit.

Did she just-?

“Uh-”

“Anyway!” Ruby claps her hands together, completely oblivious to Aasim’s internal crisis of having too many compliments thrown at him, grabs a hold of the stool and props herself up on it. “I didn’t come here ta tell ya how good ya look-”

Shit.

“-I was actually wonderin’ if ya could give me a trim? And, maybe ya could braid it fer me, too? I’m not so good at doin’ it on myself,” she says sheepishly as she reaches back and undoes the tie holding her hair together, the curls falling over her shoulders and down her back.

Shit, shit, shit-

“Yeah-” he croaks, quickly clearing his throat and coughing to cover up the crack in his voice. “I can do that.”

“Thanks.”

Aasim can’t help but gawk a little at how long it’s gotten. Last time he did this years ago, it barely touched her shoulders.

He kneels down over the bag, hiding his face from her and counting in his head, trying to quiet his drumming heart. It’s so loud in his ears that it’s a wonder Ruby doesn’t hear it.

Once he sprays her curls wet and combs through it, he takes a steady breath before working on trimming the edges.

“Mitch got the lights ta work, apparently,” she says. “Guess Lou was right. The boy is magic. Haven’t seen ‘em in action myself, but he swears up and down they’ll light tonight.”

“If not, we have the extra candles.”

“That’s what I figure. Oh, and the boys brought up the arch thing-”

“The arbor.”

“-yeah, that, and it looks real nice. I can see it now, Clem and Lou standin’ there while yer marryin’ them- Oh!”  Luckily, he’s not in the middle of cutting anything when she turns to face him. “Did Lou finish his vows?”

“Yes. Why do you think we were up so late?” He partially lies, then curses himself for it, but he’s not about to admit what really happened.

He really would croak if she knew he’d practiced dancing with Louis while pretending it was her.

“Good, good,” she relaxes, letting him get back to work. “Jus’ need Mitch and James ta come back with somethin’ fer Omar ta cook and we should be ready.”

“Did you grab the headmaster’s glasses?”

“Aw, shit! No! I fergot- Omar was supposed ta remind me!”

Aasim chuckles, finishing off the back of her hair. He only took off about an inch, figuring she’d want the extra length to make a longer braid. Trying to focus on her bangs now rather than her curious eyes peering up at him, he’s careful not to poke or pull too harsh on them, his focus narrowing down to blending the bangs in with the rest of her hair.

“I really appreciate this, Aasim,” she grins.

“No problem,” he mumbles, still concentrating.

“And not just fer this, I mean. Fer helpin’ me out so much this week. I really couldn’t have made it look so nice without yer help. And I’m real thankful yer marryin’ them.”

He has to stop, noticing that his hands beginning to tremble slightly.

“Couldn’t let you do it all by yourself,” he pulls back, fumbling with the scissors and checking the length of the bangs between his finger.

“You’re just always helpin’ me with stuff, y’know, even when I don’t ask or when I’m bein’ difficult.”

His knuckle brushes against the smoothness of her warm skin.

Shit.

“Yer real sweet ta me, and I feel like I don’t ever thank ya enough fer bein’ there.”

“Ruby,” he tosses the scissors aside, “you don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, that ain’t gonna stop me,” she laughs, reaching up to brush her freshly cut bangs back to beam at him. “So, thank you, Aasim.”

Fuck.

How could  not  feel anything for her?

The way those sparkling, baby blue eyes stare up at him and how her pretty lips smile like that after speaking such kindness, he’d have to be a brain-dead walker to not see how beautiful Ruby is in every form of the word.

And, god, he hates what it does to him.

“You’re welcome.”

That brightens her smile.

She shifts on the stool, bringing her curls over one shoulder and twisting. “I’m thinkin’ a french braid, maybe? Or perhaps two of ‘em, like pigtail braids or somethin’?”

Aasim searches the bag for a fine pick comb and begins sectioning off chunks of hair.

“I think double french braids suit you.”

“You’d know best,” she says, fixing her posture to let him work better.

As he works on threading the chunks of hair through each other, he says, “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Not many of us to do it to,” Ruby sighs, then snickers, “‘Less ya can convince Mitch ta sit still in a few months.”

Aasim scoffs. “That’ll just result in another greenhouse incident.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Just saying.”

They chuckle lightly together as Aasim finishes the first braid, tying it off with an elastic band he found in the bottom of the bag.

Ruby admires the braid, running her thumb over the remaining curls flowing past the tie. “How’d ya get so good at this, anyway?”

“I used to do my sister’s hair for school. Mom always had work early, so we had to get ready ourselves.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Ruby smiles. “What was her name again?”

“Aamirah.”

“Pretty name.”

“For a pretty girl. She was a handful, but can’t say I don’t miss her. I’m just-” Aasim’s words hitch as his heart becomes sorely heavy. “-I’m glad she wasn’t around to see the world go to shit like this.”

She peeks back at him with a sympathetic smile and grabs his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, which he returns. They share the intimate moment in silence, merely staring at each other. Something changes, some minor in her eyes, her brow as she looks at her.

He forces himself to let go of her, otherwise, he might do something stupid.

“Well, it’s done,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Two braids fall over Ruby’s shoulders now. She hops off the stool, shooting him a timid, self-conscious look before doing a quick spin and saying, “Well?”

So damn beautiful.

---

Within the warmth of the forest, the rabbits are eager to forage and stretch their legs.

One, thick with pretty taupe fur, dares dart from the security of it’s bush. It moves slowly, lolloping, grazing as it raises its nose in the air, twitching with every sniff. At the slightest noise, it’s up on their hind legs, black eyes darting around.

An arrow pierces its neck before it could possibly react, killing it instantly.

As they approach the small creature, James can’t help but admire the effective and skillful shot.

Mitch, when focused, is skillful enough that James believes he could pull off that old Robin Hood trick if he really tried.

Yanking the arrow out and stuffing the body in his bag to join the other two they caught previously, Mitch breathes out heavily through his nose. He glances over at James before standing up and strapping the bag back over his shoulder.

James isn’t unaware of the tension, nor is he unaware of the constant looks Mitch keeps giving him, though, he can’t figure what they mean. They’re not hostile, nothing like last night, but they’re not exactly friendly, either. They’re almost thoughtful, maybe. He’s still not sure.

Either way, they make him nervous.

Gurgled groaning echoes in the distance, catching their attention.

A walker moves through the woods, alone and at a slow pace. James’ hand instinctively goes to his mask in his backpocket.

Mitch turns to him with a raised brow and fingers hovering over the knife on his belt, at which James shakes his head.

“Too far.”

While Mitch wasn’t ever crazy about keeping all the walkers alive, even going as far as to actively argue against it multiple times in the beginning, he came around to the idea when James explained it to him as a weapon.

And after said weapon worked wonders towards infiltrating the delta and keeping the forest fairly walker-free, Mitch grumbled his agreement and promised he wouldn’t kill any walkers unless he absolutely had to.

They continue their walk in silence, nothing but the crunching under their boots and the wind sounding through the forest.

And as they’re walking, James realizes that he’s looking over at Mitch just as much as he is him.

Endless stolen glances.

“Willy asked about you this morning,” Mitch finally says, quietly. “Said you left last night.”

His voice is forcibly casual, James notes.

“You didn’t even tell anybody?”

When he doesn’t answer, Mitch stops walking. James comes to a slow as well, just a bit ahead, keeping his back to him.

“No, I didn’t.”

Mitch doesn’t move, waiting for an elaboration. When he doesn’t get any, he tucks his bow behind him, securing it to his bag, and crosses his arms.

“Why do you do that?”

Intrigued by the question, James cranks his neck to peer back at him with quizzical, furrowed brows, asking, “What?”

“Sleep out here,” Mitch looks around with a glower. “You’ve got a room at the school now. It’s stupid to sleep out here if you don’t have to.”

Once again, Mitch doesn’t understand, and James is quickly growing tired of trying to explain it to him.

“Especially for weeks at a time,” Mitch continues. “We don’t know if you’re dead or if someone grabbed you or whatever. Then, you don’t even tell anyone when you leave. It worries Willy sick. AJ, too. And the others.”

What about you?  James wants to ask.

“It’s just-” Mitch shakes his head, sighing, “-stupid.”

“I don’t expect  you  to understand.”

His words come out much harsher than intended, but they clearly have an effect on Mitch, considering that he’s glaring now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means-” James’ lips press together into a tight line as he breaks eye contact, instead focusing on one of the set traps attached to the trees. “-you choose to not understand something you don’t like. You’re not one for reason.”

Mitch’s glare is gone, replaced with bafflement as such bluntness. He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to spit some sort of retaliation, then promptly shuts it.

James turns from him again, beginning to walk away, which must’ve set some sort of panic within Mitch, because he blurts out, “So, explain it to me.”

With those words, a sarcastic irritation stings in his chest. James stops again, keeping his gaze forward as Mitch approaches from behind.

“Explain it to you?” he repeats. “Yes, because that worked so well last time.”

James turns to fully face him with a glare only to be met with puzzlement, then guilt. Mitch lowers his head, shoulders hunched, and expression twisted with a silent wince. His knuckles turn white as he grips his upper arms.

“Fuck-” Mitch breathes out. “I-”

While still hurt and a bit agitated, James can’t help but soften, just a bit, at the view of him now.

Mitch turns away from him, giving James the view of his profile now.

“I’m a prick,” Mitch mumbles. “A huge fucking prick. Last night, I- I didn’t mean to kick you out like that. I just-” He cuts himself off, biting his lip. Then, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he asks, “You- why’d you tell me about Charlie, anyway?”

The question catches him off guard, even though a part of him expected it.

“What you were saying about Violet was unfair and ignorant. I thought maybe if I-” James sighs, forcing out, “- opened up  to you, you’d see that, but clearly it didn’t work.”

Mitch’s fully facing him again, refusing to break their eye contact this time as he says, “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry, I- you just-”

He stumbles over his words all while James stands there, bewildered that he actually got what sounded like a sincere apology. While Mitch wasn’t above it, James noticed that it took a lot to get him to admit he’s in the wrong, much less say he’s truly sorry.

Mitch moves past him now, walking ahead and grumbling something to himself as he rubs at his neck. James only caught the words, “ C’mon, Mitch, you goddamn- ”

He hurries until they’re walking side by side again, this time a bit closer now that the tension, for the most part, has been broken.

Mitch’s bothered, it’s clear in his twisted frown until finally, with a frustrated sigh, he admits, “I lied.”

“What?”

“I, uh- when we were talking about Vi and you were asking me all those questions…” He trails off.

James watches him carefully but doesn’t push. He can see Mitch’s struggling with his words, an internal debate on whether or not he should continue. It’s similar to his behavior last night when deciding on if he should bring up Violet and Minerva or not.

Something rustles in the bushes, then there’s a snap, causing them both to freeze. One of the traps up ahead, the one in the direct sunlight, is triggered, and from the looks of it, a rabbit’s hanging by its foot.

“Shit-” Mitch curses, picking up his speed towards the creature.

It’s full grown, a pretty, glossy dark brown coat with white spots, struggling against the trap. He takes care of it quickly, squinting at the light seeping in through the branches but not hesitating to put it down. James notices that he seems relieved with the distraction, and he wonders if he’ll take the opportunity to drop the entire topic.

That thought is squashed when Mitch continues to steal anxious glances at him as he places the rabbit in his bag with the others.

“James?”

“Yes?”

“There was someone,” Mitch says slowly. “Once. Kind of.”

“Someone-” His eyes widen. “You mean…?”

“It wasn’t really anything-  we  weren’t anything. Fuck, we weren’t even really friends- well, okay, we  were , I guess, but-” Mitch abruptly stands, tossing the bag back over his shoulder and glaring down at his feet. “But we were never more than that- but, I-  I did -”

The jumble of desperate words is alarming, leaving James to put his hands up and say in as calm and comforting of a voice as he can muster, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Mitch rubs at his face now, his eyes and his neck with exasperation at himself, his incompetence to put together proper sentences. Then, with a huff, he forces his arms to his sides as he drops the bag on the ground and takes a direct, intentional step towards James. He remains where he is, despite their much closer proximity now.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t  have  to do anything.”

With that intense stare boring into him, James quietly curses himself.

He knows it’s not the time to think it.

As inappropriate as it is in this moment, he can’t help but notice the shift in the shade of Mitch’s eyes. Before, he’d always thought they were a desaturated gray with barely a hint of color, nothing worthy of note. This close and in the light, however, they’re far from so. They’re green, a color that compliments his complexion almost too well.

His fingers bite into his palm as his pulse quickens, warmth spreads up his neck and to his cheeks.

Not the time, James. Stop it!

Mitch, those green eyes becoming unbelievably vulnerable, a jarring thing to even consider, speaks.

“His name was Justin.”

For a brief second, James thinks he might’ve misheard him as his mouth parts in a silent gasp.

“He was an asshole,” Mitch says, “but… not all the time. He’d always talk all big about how tough he was or how he could kick any walker’s ass and no one could hurt him and all that bullshit. But, he was scared, just like the rest of us.”

As he speaks, he never breaks the connection of their stares.

“He used to piss me off a lot. Like, really piss me off. One time, I was so mad that I wrote ‘Justin fucked a walker!’ on the wall right where I knew everyone would see it and I knew he’d know it was me. Gave me a pretty good shiner for that one.”

Mitch scoffs, biting hard on his lip.

“I don’t even remember what he did.”

He glances away now, his determinate features falling into one of dejected longing, gaze moving far away in remembrance.

“It wasn’t always like that,” he murmurs. “We liked a lot of the same things and he’d help me watch out for Willy when I needed him to. We graffitied the shit out of the school together. I liked having him around, talking to him and going on watch together and being roommates. But… there were a few times where I think it just-” Mitch shakes his head, “-it just caught up to him, y’know? The world’s over and we’ve been left to rot by the fuckers who promised they’d make us better. It was just us and…”

Mitch takes a deep breath and turns away, leaving James to gaze upon his back.

“He made me feel  gross .”

Puzzled by the use of Mitch’s favorite word being used in this context, James asks, “Gross?”

“Not gross like ‘ew, disgusting,’ but like,” Mitch bites his lip, trying to find the right words, “like gross as in ‘I’m thirteen and you do something to me that I don’t like and don’t understand and no one can explain it to me and everything is  fucked .’”

James tries to process it all, backpedaling and repeating what he’s hearing in his mind, striving to wrap his head around it.

And when he does, when he fully comprehends just what Mitch is confessing to him out here in the openness of the forest, his insides tie around in knots and his chest squeezes his uncontrollable heart.

“I didn’t really figure it out until the day he didn’t come back from a hunting trip.”

James breathes out, voice barely above a whisper, “Mitch…”

“We’d lost lots of others. I never cried over them, never let myself because it’s pointless. Crying doesn’t bring anybody back, but Justin…” Mitch whips around, startling James. “I was so fucking mad at him. He thought he could take on a bunch of walkers himself and-” his voice cracks “-and he fucking couldn’t. Of course, he couldn’t! He was fucking scrawny.”  

His eyes fall shut, and James felt his hands twitch, wanting nothing more than to reach out to him.

“I didn’t let myself cry over him, and to this day, I still haven’t because I told myself to get over it, and I did, okay? But, he didn’t come back and even though I got over it,  I still fucking hate him for it. And- and I hate him for making me-” he meets James’ eye again, “-for making me see a part of myself that I tried to hide from.”

James doesn’t know what to say, he can’t think properly.

“Mitch, I… I didn’t know.”

“No one does,” he shrugs. “I really didn’t mean to be a dipshit and say that shit to you, I- I just… None of the other guys ever seemed to deal with this shit so I didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone else who- uh-” he clears his throat awkwardly, “- you know . But, then you told me about Charlie and it freaked me out.”

“That’s understandable,” James tries. “I… I get it.”

“Yeah? Because, really, I can imagine what kind of a fucktard you thought I was for kicking you out because of that.”

“Yes,” James admits. “Let’s just say I’m not unfamiliar with that sort of treatment regarding my, uh, preferences.”

“Fuck. Then I went and- shit!” Mitch crosses his arms again and kicks at the uneven dirt.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

There’s more growling in the distance, another walker aimlessly roaming the forest, but Mitch’s focus is solely on James and the conversation, so intense it quickens his pulse.

“Really, no one knows?” James asks. “Not even Willy?”

“No. It’s not like anyone would care if they found out. Willy sure wouldn’t. Fuck, they probably wouldn’t think anything about it. They didn’t when Vi and Minnie got together. That shit doesn’t matter anymore. But...”

“You don’t have to be ashamed-”

“I’m not,” Mitch takes another step towards him.“I-I know I was raised to be disgusted with this type of stuff, and that I am an asshole a lot of the time, and I say lots of stupid shit I don’t mean, but no, I don’t have any real reason to be ashamed. I know who I am, I know what I like and I don’t give a shit what other people think about me.”

His face falls.

“Well, what most people think of me, I guess.”

Then, as if realizing just how close they are, he takes a step back and turns on his heel, moving back towards the triggered trap.

“Some kids got picked up, you know,” Mitch continues, his voice turning bitter. “Their parents came and grabbed them, hauled them off in the first few days when all this seemed like a short-lived disaster. When it turns out it wasn’t, our teachers weren’t far behind them.”

That…

James thinks back to everyone at the school, imagining them as small children huddled together in the nightmare that was the end of the world, the world of walkers.

How could anyone be so cruel as to leave behind terrified, defenseless children? What kind of monster doesn’t even try and help them survive?

Mitch grabs the bag of rabbits off the ground and shrugging it back on his shoulder, continuing, “One day, a while after we lost Justin, it just hit me. The world’s over and my dad, my brothers, my grandparents, none of them are coming for me. They’re either dead or worse. And, as fucked up as it is, I was relieved. Relieved that they’d never get that chance to tell me who I am, or hate what I like or  who  I like. They gave up that right the moment they dropped my ass off here.”

There’s something subdued in his expression now as he looks at James again and says, “And after realizing that, after denying it for so long, I finally felt I could admit it to myself.”

Then, he smiles.

Mitch genuinely smiles at him.

And it makes his knees weak.

“Thank you,” James whispers.

Mitch raises a questioning brow, blinking over at him.

“For trusting me,” he elaborates lightly. “I know it’s difficult to deal with on your own and even more so to share with someone.”

“I dunno,” Mitch smirks, scoffing and scratching at his cheek. “There might be something to this ‘sharing your feelings’ crap because I feel pretty fucking good getting that off my chest.”

James chuckles. “This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever talked in my life.”

They exchange another smile, and James admits that this is the first time he’s seen this sort of grin from him.

He’s witnessed his proud smile, the one he always gives Willy.

His sarcastic sneer he has whenever teasing or arguing with Ruby.

His smirk at Clementine whenever they agree on something.

His smug grin whenever he successfully builds or fixes something.

Then there’s this smile, one that’s truly relieved, comfortable.

Happy.

James might be getting ahead of himself, but he can’t help but ask, “We’re friends, then?”

“Shit, we better be after I, uh-” Mitch glances away sheepishly, “- opened up  to you.”

That widens the smile tugging at James’ own lips.

“And, since we are,” Mitch glances away, “I actually had a few questions… about it.”

“You can ask them on the way. We still have more hunting to do.”

“Shit, yeah. Omar’ll pop a gasket if we don’t catch enough.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

---

Violet never thought she’d ever be one to do this, but here she is, standing in front of her open closet and studying the few articles of wearable clothing.

A long time passes as she remains indecisive, constantly debating on just growing a pair and grabbing something or slamming the door shut and crawling back into bed.

Either way, nothing happens until Tenn comes.

“Hey, Vi,” he greets, closing and locking the door behind him. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

All Violet can do is shrug, sighing an honest, “I don’t know.”

Tenn peeks into her closet before turning back to her. That’s when she notices he’s holding something.

A white flower, one of the ones that grow everywhere this time of year around the school.

“I was wondering…-” he starts, “-we still have a few hours before the sun starts to set. That’s when Ruby wants us all there, except Clementine. So… I was wondering if you changed your mind? About going?”

Her gaze remains locked on the contents of her closet.

She doesn’t answer.

And it kills her knowing that, even without looking him, disappointment is spreading across his soft features. He moves past her and sets the flower on her dresser, right on her notebook.

“If you do come,” he says, “everyone’s wearing one of these flowers. It doesn’t matter where, it’s just so we all match.”

Before he leaves, he gives her one final look. “Let me know if you change your mind… so you don’t have to go alone.”

When the door clicks shut, Violet sinks down to her knees, slamming her fist against her thigh.

“For fuck's sake, Vi,” she hisses. “What’s wrong with you?”

She isn’t doing this again.

She’s not moving back into the shadows.

As much as she wants to turn and dive back into her bed, wrap the blankets around herself and pretend nothing around her exists, she won’t do it.

She’s not staring at the door anymore with a hand so desperate to knock.

Not this time.

She knows she has to do this, has to tell all of her fears, her insecurities to fuck off. She has to try.

For Louis.

"Everyone'll be there, and it wouldn't be perfect without you, Vi. You know that, right?"

“You’re fucking better than this.”

If Louis wants her there, then damn it, she’s going to be there.

With a huff, she forces herself back up and yanks the first shirt she sees off its hanger, stretching it out before her. It’s a charcoal color with a purple heart adorning the chest area.

Fuck it, this’ll do.

---

“Ruby’s going to see Clem, and the others are in the music room, so steer clear.”

Louis doesn’t know how he did it, but he actually convinced Aasim to let him wander off.

Of course, he promised that he wouldn’t go near the music room or go see Clementine, and he practically got on his hands and knees and begged to leave the comfort of Aasim’s room.

Aasim eventually gave in once Louis was dressed in the attire picked out for him; a dark green button down shirt tucked into his jeans and his signature jacket.

The yard is empty with the exception of Willy on watch. Before the young boy spots him, he makes a quick turn to the right and heads down the sidewalk towards the graveyard. 

All the graves have fresh flowers on them, white ones with long stems. Louis places himself on the ground, not bothering to care if dirt clung to his jeans or jacket.

“Hey, Marlon.”

The wooden cross is faded from constant sun exposure, but the carved letters are still prominent.

“It’s been a while. I know I promised I would visit more, and I did for a long time there, but a lot’s been going on.”

Louis rests his hands in his lap, glancing up at some birds flying overhead.

“Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m getting married today. To Clementine. Who else, right? You wouldn’t believe it, but she proposed to me. Me. I know, you’re baffled with disbelief, but it’s true. I’d show you my ring, but Ruby confiscated it.”

He points to the naked finger on his hand.

“Anyway, it’s been a long time. I just wanted to see you before it happens, talk to you about some stuff.  If you were here, I can only imagine what you’d say. I think you’d be happy, maybe not thrilled about Clementine, since you did warn me against her… though I doubt you had my best interests in mind at the time.”

“Dude, don’t get your hopes up. I doubt she feels that way about you.”

“...Yeah...”

He lowers his head, eyes squeezing shut.

“...you’re right.”

He can always remember that day so clearly. The last moments he saw his best friend before the thunderstorm hit, before he killed Brody and almost shot Clementine.

Before he died.

“Thanks, man. Goodnight.”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out. After a brief pause, he continues, “The nightmares are still bad. Shit, they’re getting worse, I think. I haven’t told Clem about most of them, and I’m starting to think that’s not the right thing to do. I read once in one of those magazines that honestly is the key to an unbreakable relationship. Which, I guess it is in anything, like an unbreakable friendship.”

A chill overcomes him.

“That’s what really fucked us over, huh?”

Louis looks back up at the sky, admiring the fluffy clouds as he speaks, “I won’t make the same mistake. I know I have to tell Clem how bad it’s gotten, and I will sometime after the wedding. I can’t be afraid of it anymore, you know? I’m sick of waking up like that, of hiding it from her and the others. I’m sure you’d tell me to man up, get over myself and do better. But… it’s not easy.”

Feeling the wetness return to his sore eyes, Louis quickly rubs at them.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about her and our wedding, about my parents. I don’t think they’d like her very much. In fact, I’m pretty sure Dad would forbid me from accepting her proposal, and maybe-” he gives a dry laugh, “-here’s a funny thought, Marlon. Maybe he would be so pissed off that he’d break me and Clementine up.”

He hears distant voices from behind him but pays them no attention.

“How do you think he’d do it? A fake affair, like I did? Or would that be too predictable?”

A warm breeze carries the scent of a floral spring with a hint of dirt, something that’d be more enjoyable had he not been sitting where he is.

“It’d make sense, wouldn’t it?” he whispers. “An eye for an eye, one marriage for another-” he inhales a shuddering breath, “-that’d balance everything out, wouldn’t it? Why should I get to live in this world happily married after I fucked up my own parent’s marriage?”

He sniffles, shaking his head and stares at the mound of dirt before him.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he murmurs. “But I’m going to do what I always do; enjoy this moment. It’s the only sure thing. Maybe the karma monster will rear it’s ugly head one day and hurt me real bad again, but until then, I’m going to smile, go back into that school, marry the woman of my dreams, and have the best night of my life.”

The voices grow louder, and recognizes them as Mitch, James, and Omar, no doubt getting ready to start cooking.

“I love Clementine, Marlon,” he smiles. “And I kept my promise. I’ve stepped up. Really, I have. You know I’ll never stop joking around, but I do take hunting and scavenging more seriously now. And we haven’t lost anyone since you, Brody and the twins. For the most part, everything’s been really good. Things are still tense with Violet- hell, I don’t even know if she’s going to show up today, but that doesn’t change anything. We… we’re all family now, Marlon, more so than we were before. I wish you could be here to see it, all of you.”

Footsteps approach from a distance, so Louis goes quiet.

“Hey,” Aasim calls softly.

“Hey.”

He stands beside him, peering down at the graves.

“It’s almost time. Mitch and James are back, Omar’s preparing the rabbits, and the music room’s officially finished. The boys are in there now.”

“Do I get to go in?”

“Yep, Ruby said you could play the piano while we wait for it to get darker. To calm your nerves, if you need to.”

“That sounds amazing,” Louis grins, looking back to Marlon’s grave. “Would you believe Ruby kicked me out of there? I haven’t touched the piano in a whole week.”

“And you survived,” Aasim rolls his eyes.

“Barely.”

“Well, when you’re done here, go ahead and go in. There’s no rush, though.”

“Thanks, I’m just going to say goodbye.”

Aasim gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning and walking off back towards Omar. When he’s out of earshot, Louis decides it’s time to say his goodbyes.

“Well, guess that’s my cue. I’ll be back to talk to you again, let you know how things are going, what it’s like being married. I don’t imagine it’ll be all that different, right? I will get to call Clementine my wife. Looking forward to that.”

He shifts himself onto his knees and places his palm against the dirt, giving one final moment of peace for his lost friend.

“I miss you.”

A heaviness is lifted from him, a serenity replacing it. He let his doubts have their moment, let them shake his core and attempt to take over, but he leaves them there with Marlon’s grave.

Over the years of surviving in this world, Louis became a master of tucking those thoughts away, leaving them to be explored later, and focusing on the good things.

Like how in a couple of hours, he gets to see Clementine.

He gets to wear his ring, he gets to hold her face in his hands and kiss her, and dance with her. He gets to be with his family.

At least, most of his family.

“Goodbye, Marlon.”

As Louis goes back into the school, he keeps his head held high and adorns a tranquil smile on his lips.

[darkangel0410]

1, 8, 20

1. Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing

Oh jeez, this is hard. I'm not great at describing people in general and I don't think I see myself the way other people do necessarily, so this is probably not very good (and also really short):

She had brown hair and blue eyes. The end.

(Seriously tho, I am absolute pants at describing people)

8. Why do you choose to write?

I like to tell stories, I like looking at a pairing or a trope and asking "What if? What if they were werewolves? What if they met sooner? What if everyone had a soulmate? What if the gods were real? What if they never met? What if?" I write to answer all the questions I have that I want to see answers. I write because I'm a writer and if I don't I get anxious and depressed easier than normal.

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

Hmmm, I'm about 90% done with the next fic in the godlings series, so have some lines from that:

Auston takes a deep breath and the puck’s off Mitch’s stick to Auston’s and he’s shooting it; it misses the net and shatters the glass behind it and there’s a deep ringing sound that he can feel in his bones and Auston knows his life’s just changed from the course he had carefully plotted out for himself.

The moment seems to last forever, hanging in the air with the weight of lifetimes behind it.

Auston exhales and Mitch is grinning at him like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

*

Thanks for asking! 😁😁😁

[lovemepleaase]

i.ii. agitate.

a blurb in which harry’s got a big ego and it really doesn’t scare her. 

part of the snapshot series. 

...

Harry Styles // Live On Tour Night 12 // Madrid, ES 31.03.18

“Oh, shit.”

Sarah disappointedly watched the ball bounce over the small net and onto the carpeted floor with a quiet plunk.

“That’s three in a row, right? New record?”

Harry was absolutely grinning, ping-pong paddle in the hand resting against his hip.

“Oh, shut up.”

It made for a good picture, Y/N thought from her place on the floor against the wall opposite the ping pong table— Harry Styles, with his hair tied in a tiny bun at the top of his head and a worn cotton tee shirt sloppily tucked into what were likely designer trousers, arms covered from tip to tip in stark black tattoos, smugly rubbing his third consecutive ping pong win in his very disgruntled drummer’s face.

Sarah set the paddle on the table with a slap, backing away with raised hands. “I give up. I don’t even want to play anymore.”

Harry leaned against the table on both his hands, eyes narrowed, paddle still in hand. “You’re telling me a drummer doesn’t have the hand eye coordination to play a decent game of ping pong?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, backing onto the couch in the corner of the room and taking her phone out of her back pocket. “Absolutely not.”

Harry looked over at Y/N with wide eyes, putting a hand over the side of his mouth to direct his comments towards her. “Someone’s a sore loser.”

She scoffed, lowering her camera. “Your attitude isn’t really helping, you know.”

He set the paddle on the table, crossing his arms and looking at her with narrowed eyes. “Oh yeah? Come beat me then.”

Harry was a sweet guy, really, and had treated her with nothing but absolute kindness over the last couple weeks— they were sort of friends now, honestly. She ate at the table with him and the rest of his band, he invited her out with them, and here she was, sitting with them before soundcheck (granted, it was behind her lens, but that was more of a personal choice; it was only slightly more comfortable for her, still, at this point, to try to keep their interactions work based, although his overt friendliness was making it a bit tough). And it wasn’t just that— he had real conversations whenever they were alone together, about home or the future or whatever funny thing they’d seen in the audience that night. He was nice, and fun, and she was really starting to love being around him.

He was also very competitive.

A nice guy, yeah, but a nice guy with an ego the size of Russia. Harry somehow managed to be so humble and thankful and then let his head grow five sizes with a compliment or a loud audience or three ping pong wins in a row.

She shook her head, reaching into her camera bag for a different lens (Maybe she could get a couple interesting shots if she laid on her side and used something longer to shoot with?). “I’m not playing with you.”

“What, are you scared?”

She stopped her digging around in her bag, looking at him, pausing before answering. “I don’t know how to play.”

He cocked his head towards the table. “C’mon, lemme show you then.”

She heard Sarah snort from the other side of the room. “Yeah, you’d make a great teacher, show off.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to her, she’s just bitter.”

She just looked at him, one eyebrow raised. You sure about that?

He walked over to her, holding out a hand. “Come on, seriously. We don’t even have to keep track of points. Out loud, anyway.”

She sighed, unhooking her camera from around her neck and gently placing it in its place in her bag before taking his hand and letting her pull her to her feet. “Fine. But you better be nice.”

He made an ‘x’ over his heart with his index finger— a promise. “Just wanna teach you.”

She went over to the spot where Sarah had been standing, picking up her abandoned paddle, watching Harry retrieve the ball from the floor and do the same opposite her.

“Okay,” he began. “Just try to make it over the net, bounce once on your side, and don’t hit it on the floor. Yeah?”

She turned the paddle over in her hand, examining both sides before answering. “I guess.”

He nodded once. “Just take a practice shot.” He gently tapped the ball over to her side, watching it bounce once, go over the net and— she smacked it across, watching it bounce and sail past him, landing somewhere on the floor behind him.

He watched it go flying, blinked at it from its position on the floor, and then slowly turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth lifted. “You dirty liar.”

She pressed a finger to the corner of her mouth in mock thought. “That’s a point for me, right?”

“I cannot believe this.”

She gestured to the floor behind him where the ball was with her paddle. “You gonna get that? Or are you scared?”

Sarah laughed from somewhere behind her. “Brilliant.”

(So maybe she was good at ping pong. Come on, it’s not like she just sat around every day of her life taking photos, she had a childhood, same as everyone else. That childhood just happened to involved intense table tennis matches with the neighbor kids. And yeah, okay, she could have just gotten up and played with him without all the pomp and circumstance, but watching the shock on his face was just so much fun.)

His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted when he turned to grab the ball. “So that’s how it’s gonna be then?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “You tell me.”

He looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then shook his head, smiling. “Alright then.” He brought the ball up to chin-level, ready to serve. “Game on.”

                                    ▲▼▲▼

The ball whipped past Harry and bounced off the wall behind him, dropping onto the floor and rolling before knocking right into his foot.

She set the paddle down on the table, watching him breathe heavily, his cheeks warm. “That’s...four now, right? I beat your record?”

He shook his head, grabbing his bottle of water from the table beside him. “Doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Why not?”

He took a drink, shaking his head before swallowing. “Cause we said we weren’t counting points, love.”

She walked past him, patting his shoulder before continuing to the wall where her camera bag was. “Well, don’t worry love, I’m not going to steal your ranking.” She put the bag on her shoulder, turning to look at him. “Just wanted to put you in your place.”

He pointed at her, brows raised, grinning. “You better watch it.”

She crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall, smiling back at him. “Or what?”

(Something about challenging him, watching him squirm, was kind of fun— not that it should be, he was her boss for God’s sake.)

(Was he really? It didn’t feel like it.)

He looked at her, head to toe and then back up to meet her eyes. “Don’t think you wanna go there, babe.”

(‘Babe?’ That one was new.)

She brought her stuff over to the couch (now empty— Sarah had left a few minutes ago when the first call for soundcheck had come, but Harry insisted on one more game), sitting down. “Oo, should I be afraid?”

He looked at her, green eyes just slits, mouth open and ready to respond with some snarky comment, but—

Mitch popped his head through the doorway, then, cutting off whatever Harry’s reply might have been. “Dude, come on, we gotta go.”

Harry gestured to her and then himself, walking towards the door. “This isn’t over.”

She shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

He walked out the door, shaking his head and smiling, leaving her grinning as she pulled her laptop off the table and into her lap.

(And maybe she did feel a little spark of something in her, bantering back and forth with him, and maybe something about the way he smiled at her made her wish he’d do it all the time. So what? They were friends.)

(Sort of.)

[habsfans98]

Habsfan98 NHL 2018/2019 season opinions

Anaheim Ducks

This team better hope to god that Ondrej Kase and Rickard Rakell can make up for Corey Perry looks like his age these days. Gibson better be prepared for a lot of shots this year.

Arizona Coyotes

Please don't start your season without a regulation win in more than 20 games again. A healthy Antti Raanta will make you way more competitive.

Boston Bruins

That top line is going to be the best part of this team. It would be a shame if Tuukka Task were to regress this season. A real shame....

Buffalo Sabres

Jeff Skinner, Jack Eichel, and Ramus Dahlin the best defensive prospect you've had in decades. Look out, the climb from rock bottom has begun.

Calgary Flames

So you trade Hamilton for a younger still developing defenceman Noah Hanifin and forward Elias Lindholm. Then you guys decided to hire Bill Peters. The Hurricanes called: they don't want there old coach back.

Carolina Hurricanes

Last year the Hurricanes under achieved, but the expectations were way to high for a team full of very young guys. This year the expectations are way to high, but are slightly justified.

Chicago Blackhawks

Is Corey Crawford still suffering Vertigo? Yes? Well then the Blackhawks aren't a playoff team. Unless Seabrook has a bounce back from last season, and Toews remembers how much he's being paid. The dynasty is on hiatus.

Colorado Avalanche

Nathan MacKinnon is the best player on this team. You better make sure you remember that Avs. Cause, you'll need his to follow up that last season's monster performance; to get into the playoffs.

Columbus Blue Jackets

Sergei Bobrovsky is the best player on this team. The most important player on this team. The reason this franchise is even relevant. Make sure you extend him. You can't afford to lost him. YOU. CANT.

Dallas Stars

New coach, and eight more years of Tyler Seguin. This team more than anything needs a balance of strong forechecking, puck moving defenseman, and Ben Bishop to stop getting hurt.

Detroit Red Wings

Ken Holland needs to just tell Red Wings fans he's rebuilding. With Zetterberg done for good. You better hope Larkin, Mantha, and Athanasiou make major strides this season.

Edmonton Oilers

Get McDavid some fucking forwards that can skate and shoot! And find someone who will take the Lucic contract. He needs to go. Oh! And get Talbot a actual back up too! That's literally all y'all need! (Maybe another defenseman won't hurt)

Florida Panthers

Start the season strong Panthers. Start the season with a winning record in October, and you might be consistent enough to make the post season. You've got the piece. Now get your shit together.

Los Angeles Kings

This team is old, big, and slow. A perfect team for the fast paced moder NHL! This team can still make the playoffs with Quick in net. But they really need some quality skating youth.

Minnesota Wild

Is Devan Dubnyk still your goalie? Yes? Then you a playoff bubble team congrats. This team feels fractured, veterans on their last few years, mild aged guys that overachieved, and young guys that are unproven. This will be an interesting year in the state of hockey.

Montreal Canadiens

This team has no natural scorers. The best center they're hoping for is a first round draft pick in Jesperi Kotkaniemi, who btw is 18 years old. Because this worked out so well before.... *Cough* Galchenyuk! *Cough* Carey Price will have it play like 2014 if they have want even a chance at the playoffs.

Nashville Predators

Pekka Rinne isn't getting any younger. While he defied his age last year. The Preds window of cup contention only stays open, if he plays at this ability again. Even with the solid defensive core the team has.

New Jersey Devils

Unless Taylor Hall has another Hart trophy winning season and Corey Schneider becomes the solid goalie that this team needs again. Y'all are missing the playoffs. It's that fucking simple.

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal is your future. That's the only bright spot for this team. Good luck trying to fill two areas this season with a bad hockey team, with no playoff hopes anymore.

New York Rangers

Admitting you have a problem is the first steps. The Rangers gave their fans a heads up that they closed the door on cup contention for a rebuild. A smart move. It a shame for the current fan base. The question remains. What happens to Henrik Lundqvist?

Ottawa Senators

This team is going to suck... No buts, ands, or ifs about it! You have a unintimidating forward core, a paper mache defense, and a goalie who use to good. This team is the Miami Marlins of hockey. Pathetic...

Philadelphia Flyers

Solid Forward core, up and coming defenseman that look really good. This team should be a playoff team, maybe even a contender- Oh shit your goaltending still sucks and is up in the air? That's a shame huh?

Pittsburgh Penguins

This team has some key injuries to players last season again the Capitals. This season, those players are older, and will have to still play like there younger to try and win a third cup in four years. At least y'all still have Crosby and Malkin.

San Jose Sharks

This team is the true cup contenders of the West. Well until either Vegas missed the post season, or they beat them. Eric Karlsson makes this team a true force of nature on paper. It's good to be a Sharks fan these days.

St. Louis Blues

One point. That's all it took for you to miss the playoffs, after a season of injury bug. Maybe a new season without the injury bug makes you a post season team? *Check the division teams* ok... Maybe a bubble team at best? I'm trying to be positive Blues fans. I'm trying.

Tampa Bay Lightning

This team will make it back to the playoffs. What the Lightning want to avoid is doing what they did against Washington in games 6 and 7. Avoid that and you'll do fine. Go Rang- I mean Bolts!

Toronto Maple Leafs

John Tavares, Mitch Marner, Austin Matthews. Three names, that have given the city of Toronto more hope of winning the Stanley Cup, than any other names in the last 40 years. If you can maybe get some better defenseman. This teams a cup contender. What a strange time it is.

Vancouver Canucks

Every sign at Rogers arena should say! Still Rebuilding. Come back next year. The Canucks have good pieces, but still need a bit more to make a new machine. They're on the right track. It just not this year for a completion date.

Vegas Golden Knights

After shocking the hockey/sports world, (And pissing off cry baby fans bases across the NHL) The Golden Knights lost some piece, the replaced them with players that are slightly younger, but just as good. Expect youth to step up and take this team to back to the top. Or they regress dramatically and they miss the playoffs because they over achieved hard last season!

Washington Capitals

The defending Stanley Cup champion Capitals! Will make the playoffs again, since they're basically the same team. Winning it again, is whole other issues. The team has remained relatively the same. The other teams in the division/conference didn't. Good luck champs.

Winnipeg Jets

The Jets were a very solid team last year. Excellent forwards, great defenseman, but the thing that has propelled this team into cup contention; goaltending. Connor Charles Hellebuyck is your Carey Price. Do. Not. Over. Work him. The team has grown a proper defensive responsibility. Rest won't kill the guy. Trust me. When the playoffs come. It'll be worth it.

[hockeyplayerstories]

Auston Matthews | Something Like Romeo And Juliet

Fun fact: I had written this for English class before I decided I'd post it but not before editing.

Auston’s P.O.V

I stare from afar, with warm ups just starting, there was barely anyone in the stands but from the people already seated only one or two were wearing Maple Leaf jerseys the rest were Red Wings fans. From across my teams zone, where I am currently stretching on the ice, through the glass I spot a beautiful girl. She is wearing a red wings jersey but I don’t care to much about that, captured by her natural beauty as it appears she isn't wearing any make up, her bright blue eyes , golden brown hair flowing down her shoulders in waves, stopping just a couple inches from the top of the red wings logo. After 2 minutes of stretching, staring also, I decide to take a lap around when I notice the rest of my teammates start to pour out onto the ice with 10 minute left in warm ups before the game. Skating around my teams net with a puck on my stick, practicing my dangles and dekes, I lift my eyes to look at her but quickly look away when we catch eyes for a few seconds. I look down at the puck blushing because she was smiling, ‘I hope no one saw that’ I think to myself but when i look back up to see where I am going, I am quickly corrected because I hear someone comment on it.

“Yo, Matts?! What’s got you all red?” I hear Mitch question me.

“Nothing!” I say quickly, passing him the puck, looking down when others, who ever heard what Mitch just said, turn to look at me to see if I really was blushing.

“He’s all red because he was taking a good long look at Dylan Larkin’s cousin, Y/N” comes another voice to the conversation, William, says. I stare at him wide eyed. “I was right behind you the whole time” he explains

“Shit” I mumble “AWWW, Auston has a crush! Auston has a crush!” chants Mitch as he picks up a puck and skates towards the net to shoot it then come back to us to say ”Good luck getting through Dylan if you want to date her cuz” He pauses to laugh to himself a little ”Y'all have this little fight/argument thing going on for how long as this has this been going on for? Years? I think it’s time it’d stop” He stats “Alright! I don't think he will let me so yeah let’s stop talking about it and get back to warm ups!!” I say skating away from the two to set the example. I take a look at the clock and notice only 2 minutes left and curse to myself quietly ”I wasted all my precious warm up time talking to those idiots” I mumble to myself.

Y/N's P.O.V

I have never seen anyone as handsome as him before. From where I am sitting, I see he has a strong stature, well built, very tall. Matthews #34 plays for Toronto, that’s all I know, oh and his beautiful brown eyes that shine in the light, he looks good in a white jersey, I have seen him in pictures wearing a blue jersey when playing at home in Toronto. Dylan, my cousin, has told me a lot about him, how he used to play with him for team USA. Along with telling me he is one of the best and how much he hates him for being one of the best. Maybe I can ask to meet him?

Auston’s P.O.V

The game went by like a blur. No one scored until the second period though in the first some good battles were fought. Red wings scored first in the game but James opens the score for us two minutes after. Then Mitch scores to gain the lead in the game. I scored myself, but in the third period after the Red Wings tied the score. We win the game with a score of 3-2.

Upon arriving to the locker room after hugging congratulating my team for the game, I spot Coach and Red wings head coach, Jeff Bashill, speaking together in the hall, as if they were old buds and not enemies.

By time Coach came to the locker room, I was already changed and showered, my gear packed into its bag making its way to the hallway to a trolley by a equipment staff to be put in the bus but because it’s not here yet it has to wait like I am doing at the moment, I was stuck in my thoughts before Coach got all of our attention so he could talk to us.

“Ok ! Can I have everyone's attention please?!! Sit down it won’t take long. Alright the bus should be here soon so sit tight. First off I want to thank James for putting us on the board, Mitchy for tying it up and Matts for scoring the game winner. Lets not forget Andersen for blocking all shots and to who ever else did so too” he paused so we could clap for our hard played game. "We have the opportunity to attend a party organized by the red wings, some of you know this already but if you don't I used to coach the wings which is why we got invited so clean up nice, we leave tomorrow to go home with a couple days off. Ok! See you on the boys on the bus”. With that everyone resumed to what they were doing before Coach started talking. Still waiting for the bus, I pull out my phone to answer some texts I got before or during the game. “Hey Matts!” I hear Mitch yell to me over the music in the locker room. “Yeah?” I answer him looking up from my phone to see him smirking at me ”With Y/N being Dylan’s cousin she will be there, maybe you could make a move, don't you think?” he pretended to think with his pointer finger and thumb stroking his chin. I blush thinking about an answer “Now that I think about it Larkin never mention a cousin before when we talked , like normal people. I told him almost everything about myself but he has said almost nothing about himself. We almost always made team USA together” I mutter the last part to myself,” bus is here!!” someone yells in the locker room “Finally” almost everyone cheers, excited for the party.

From the rink to wherever the party is taking place it took at least 20 minutes. The bus was quiet, barely anyone saying a word to each other until we got to the party . Everyone was talking now because it was not a house we pulled up to it was a freaking mansion! Once the bus stopped everyone tumbled out of the bus in order to get to the party quicker.

My feet had just barely landed on the ground when I was tackled slightly from the back by an excited Mitch. William not far from him when he pushed passed me to get to the front. “let’s go party!” came from some of the older guys “yeah let’s go” I cheered with some others, smiling I begin walking towards the entrance with the team.

Entering the mansion,  I look around. Amazed with all the details on the ceiling and everything around, everything looked expensive . With my eyes still wandering, they catch sight of Y/N who was stood at the top of the beautifully designed staircase. She was wearing a cream coloured dress with lace, not much showing but just enough, she kept her hair the same as before. Our eyes meet and we share a smile. She begins to descend the stairs while I walk towards her our eyes still connected until a hand on my shoulder turns me around harshly toward them, “Matthews! You don't look at talk to or even think about my cousin! She doesn't need someone like you in her life, only good people deserve her kindness. Go find some other girl to mess with not my cousin! You hear me?! Do you hear me?!!!!” Dylan yells in my face, I take a look at Juliet , the person Dylan is yelling at me about and notice she looks worried but I just smile in away to tell her it’s ok “yes I hear you but I wasn’t planning on breaking her heart or hurting her or even messing around with her like you think i would do with her. I was thinking more of treating her like a queen than what you are thinking. I don't know man but i never thought love at first sight existed until i took a look at her. I’d give her anything she ever wanted in the whole wide world. I’d give up hockey if she wanted me to” Dylan thought over my words, luckily no one really paid attention to what happening. After a whole minute, Dylan looked towards Juliet, still stood on the staircase, I looked also. She was trying to convince Dylan to give me a chance ”Ok I am going to let you date my cousin but one word of you doing something that upsets her, you’re dead” Dylan says after a couple seconds and walks away.

I watch him until Mitch is in my face ”Hey! Go get your girl! He gave you permission.” he laughed at my face as realization took over, I turn quickly to see Y/N begin to turn to go back up occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if I was following, with a smile on her face. I sprint to the stairs and take two at a time to get to her faster.

Once standing next to her at the top of the stairs, she smiles up to me and holds out her hand for me to take into mine. I place my hand into hers and I am mesmerized at how our hands fit like puzzle pieces, her tiny delicate hand is smothered by my giant one. “So” I snap my head up to at the sound of her, like her looks, beautiful voice. “What should we do first?” she asks me as she leads me to what I assume her bedroom “we should get to know each other” I suggest to which she nods her head. Exactly a hour later, many questions and laughs were shared ,now we just stare at each other in silence until she decides to break it “I feel like this is from Romeo and Juliet” she smiles at me “Really? How?” I say surprised “Because of how we got to this moment” she blushes, I smile because I caused it “Well we could call this ‘Something Like Romeo and Juliet’ then” I say  “That sounds perfect” she laughs, I love her laugh and I plan on hearing it for the rest of my life.

[thundersstruck]

High hopes pt.2

A/n I wasn’t planning on writing this immediately but I had ideas that I didn’t want to forget so I like had to do it now

Literally no one asked for this but this is actually good so get over it

Word count: again idk man more than last time because this gets long and more in-depth [just kidding it’s 1719]

Warnings: I swear like once or twice oops

Gif credit: @torinado

Part one

This takes place later in the season

Enjoy

“Had to have high, high hopes for a living

Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing

Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision

Always had high, high hopes”

“The dynamic duo of Matthews and Marner has been broken up and now it’s Matthews and Stamkos, an unlikely pair who are headed to Tampa for the All Star Game” Kathryn Tappen says as I sit in my shared hotel room with Auston. We had just won against Dallas now headed for the All Star Game.

“Stamkos and Matthews seem to have great on ice chemistry, we wonder if there’s any off ice chemistry there too. For now we don’t know. For the NHL Network I’m-“ she continues until Auston turns off the tv and jumps onto the bed.

“Didn’t your brother tell you not to watch this?” He asks looking at me “well yeah but I’ve got nothing better to do with my time” I say taking his hand in mine.

“You are aware we have to tell at least my brother we’re together right?” I ask looking up at him “I mean he’s gonna figure it out this weekend, so let’s be crazy and announce our relationship during the skills comp” He says with a pleading smile.

“Ugh you know I can’t say no to your smile.” I reply matching his smile.

*a few days later*

“There’s my all star!!” Steven yells acting like he hasn’t seen me in months. “It’s been like 20 days since you’ve seen me dude” I say as we hug. “Yeah but it’s special now because you and your boyfriend here are on my team for the All Star game” He says as Auston chokes on his water behind me. Steven displays a puzzled look and then a smile.

“I knew you were dating, you shot for the stars” He says as we walk away.

Media day went smoothly and so did practice for the skills comp, but nerves were eating away at me because this is my first All Star game and the fact that Auston and I were telling the whole world we were together. We skated onto the ice for the entrance starting the competition and that’s when everything settled in.

“Hey you must be (y/n)” a voice next to me says. I turn to look and it’s Sidney Crosby, holy mother of god. “Yeah that’s me, the better Stamkos.” I respond as P.K. skates next to me and shorts a laugh. “You’re still mean to Steven aren’t you?” P.K. asks “Well someone has to be mean to him.” I say skating away from the pair backwards “It was nice to briefly talk to you Sid.” I say skating over to Auston.

“If you get the second fastest shot I will literally kiss you right here on this ice in front of everyone.” Auston says “deal.” I respond and skate away “WAIT WHAT?” He yells but it’s too late I’m about to take my shots.

The first one registers at 97.2

Ovi’s first registers at 98.8

Steven’s first registers at 95.2

P.K.’s first registers at 95.5

Burns at 88.0

My second shot registers at 100.2

Ovi’s at 101.3

P.k.’s At 98.7

Steven’s at 95.9

Burns at 92.4

“HOLY SHIT NO WAY” I yell skating towards Auston, jumping into his arms “I HAVE THE THE SECOND FASTEST SHOT IN THE NHL” I continue as he spins me around. We forget we’re in an arena full of people who don’t know we’re dating and share a kiss, just like any other kiss with him. It’s passionate and sweet and soft and tastes like whatever flavor of Gatorade he was drinking moments before. The arena erupts in cheers and I hear Jack yell that Connor owed him $20. “I’m glad we did that.” I say “me too.” Auston says.

“Mama said

It's uphill for oddities

The stranger crusaders

Ain't ever wannabes

The weird and the novelties

Don't ever change

We wanted everything, wanted everything”

“THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS ARE HEADED TO THE PLAY OFFS!! I HOPE YOU STAND TO WITNESS THIS LEAFS FANS.” The announcer yells as we win the game because of my goal.

The buzz of the lights and the crowd and the team fuels a dream that every player dreams of and that I’m living. I’m the first female to play in the Stanley Cup playoffs.

“Stay up on that rise

Stay up on that rise and never come down

Stay up on that rise

Stay up on that rise and never come down”

“MARNER HOLD THEM OFF WE NEED TO FORCE GAME 7” I yell to Mitch as we skate across the ice, seconds counting down in the final period of the game. Mitch passes the puck and then it finds the back of the net. The goal horn going off the crowd going wild, us forcing a game 7.

“They say it's all been done but they haven't seen the best of me

So I got one more run and it's gonna be a sight to see”

“Aus, you still have my back right?” I ask hesitantly “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? He responds. “We pull Freddie, I’m gonna do something dumb and fuck up the whole game and the series for us.” I say quietly so our other teammates don’t here me. “You have one more run, one more period of the series to show them what your made of, you’ll be fine.” He says kissing my sweaty forehead “this period is gonna be a sight to see babe.” He says with a wink as we heard back out to the ice.

We have a minute left and coach pulled Freddie. Marchand has the puck and I was hot on his heels as he headed for our end of the ice. I saw him get ready to shoot the puck and I made a rash decision, I dove in front of the goal, trying to stop the puck like it’d do anything for us to win. I hit the ice with an oomph as the goal horn went off and then the buzzer for the time. The cheering of the Boston’s fans was a blow to the heart, causing tears to spill out of my eyes and onto the cold ice underneath me. I could’ve stopped the goal, I could’ve shown up today and actually played but I didn’t and we lost, all because of me. I hear the sound of skates making their way down the ice to my position, splayed across the blue of the goal.

“(Y/N) you’ve gotta get up, we have to shake hands still.” Auston says “it’s all my fault” I yell into the ice, making it slightly muffled. “No it’s not, we’re a team” he says helping me up now seeing the tears on my face. “Don’t touch them, leave them, I don’t fucking care anymore.” I say skating away from him and to the line up to shake hands. I’m bitter till the end but say good game to every player and the coaches congratulating them on the win. Marchand pulls me aside.

“Good game kid, you’re a heck of a player ya know?.” He says “thanks man.” I say putting on a fake smile “don’t let the losses get to you, you’ll get the dream you’re looking for one day. I promise.” He says and skates away. I head towards the locker room, letting out a scream of defeat on the way. I clean up and head for media.

“So (Y/N) how did you feel out there tonight?” A reporter asks. I don’t have a filter when I’m upset so everything is about to be filterless. “I felt like I didn’t show, I feel like I was sitting on the couch at home. I played pretty bad but the rest of the boys played great.” I say “are you blaming this game on yourself?” Another asks “yeah I am because we at least could’ve lost with some dignity when I slid across the goal mouth but I wasn’t fast enough, we lost without dignity because I didn’t hit the ice fast enough.” I say glumly. “You still beat the odds of making it to the NHL, do you have high hopes for next season?” I’m asked “yeah I do have high hopes for next season because that’s all I’m made of. But for now it’s off to Tampa to watch my brother.” I say as the reporters thank me for my time. I get up and walk back into the locker room, Auston, Freddie, Willy and Mitch all sit in their lockers, they’re the only four there besides me. “Ya know Stammer we didn’t know what to think when you joined the team.” Freddie says “but what you did today to save some dignity for us is First star worthy.” He says as he pats me on the shoulder and leaves. “You remind me of my brother and sisters. Strong willed and not willing to give anything up.” Willy says following what Freddie did “but we’re a team we aren’t letting you take this all yourself.” He finishes and leaves the room. “We got your back Stam you know we do. We’re with you till the end of the line each season.” Mitch says hugging me and leaving me just Auston in the locker room. He comes towards me, wrapping me in a hug, arms around my waist, my head buried in his chest and the sobs start again. “I just wanted to prove that I could win a cup” I say through the sobs “you will.” He says rubbing my back. “I looked like a fool sliding across the ice, I wouldn’t have stopped that puck and if I did I would’ve broken a rib or two.” I sob into his chest. “Eh who cares if you looked like a fool, you have the second fastest shot in the NHL and I’ve done some pretty foolish things. I bet your brother will do something foolish sometime this post season too.” He laughs as he plays with the ends of my braids then goes to speak again, “It doesn’t matter whether you looked like a fool, played bad or didn’t play at all I still have high hopes for you and I always will.”

[fratboyvivimatthews]

never apart - auston matthews 

summary: from birth twins auston + y/n have never felt like what it’s been to be apart from each other, and for the rest of their lives they’ll never know the feeling 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: [2,959]

“AUSTON STOP” his hand was placed in mine squeezing it tight. His wide eyes pulled away from the stage and down to meet my e/c ones. “Stop being so nervous.” 

Scoffing he looked away from me and back to the stage, “That’s easy for you to say Y/n/n, you’re not the one who’s about to be drafted.” Rolling my eyes at my twin I turned to look at our mother. She was having a conversation with our two sisters, but her eyes stayed glued to Auston and I’s intertwined hands. 

The time was starting to count down now. Two minutes until the pick had to be in, but we already knew. All of us did. My twin brother was about to make history. “Quit looking around,” I then teased leaning over to him. “We all know you’re going to get drafted first overall.” 

Auston’s hand squeezed mine a little harder once again. Looking over at me he shot me a smile, “I’m just taking it all in Y/n/n, you know what that’s like.” My e/c eyes rolled before I looked forward. “Come on, don’t be like that. You said it yourself, I’m gonna get picked first.” 

I whipped my head around to face him again my eyes narrowing in the process, “Aus sometimes you make it really difficult to love you. You’re a cocky little shit you know that?” 

He had now turned his body so he now faced me completely, and I could make out how broad his shoulders looked in his suit. “I’m almost sure you’ve been telling me that since you were born.” In a mere matter of second our mother now turned to scold the two of us. 

“Why is it always you two that bicker? Maybe some time apart from each other will do you two some good,” she started to explain causing Auston and I to share a look. Our mouths were both on the floor, she’s never said anything about us being apart before - in fact she always wanted us together. 

We both looked away from each other to our mother, “You are joking, aren’t you?” I asked before starting to laugh. “We’ve never been apart. You’ve never let us be apart before.” 

Auston nodded his head, “I don’t think I could survive living without Y/n. She’s always been there to push me to be better than what I used to be.” Our mother shook her head at us, a pointed look on her face before she turned away to carry another conversation with our sisters. 

“I’m never gonna leave you, you know that right Y/n/n? This isn’t an ending to us, okay?” As Auston spoke to me I turned my gaze away from him to the stage. The pick was in. In seconds we were going to be able to clap as he went up to clam his new Toronto Maple Leafs jersey. “I could never leave you. You’re my best friend, my twin, and I love you Y/n.” 

I snapped my head back to look at him, before sending an elbow into this rib-cage. “Are you going to ignore the fact that I just said I loved you?” 

“Auston - I,” my voice was cut out by Lou Lamoriell’s, the general manger for the Maple Leafs. 

“For Toronto’s,” Lou was then cut off by the sound of fans booing. I squeezed Aus’ hand, only for him to return the favor. I could feel him kiss my temple, an old tradition of ours when we wanted some luck. “For Toronto’s first pick of the two sixteen national hockey league draft we’re going to have director of personal make that selection, Mark Hunter.” 

Lou backed away from the podium, and Mark stepped forward. From the corner of my eye I watched as Auston had seemed to stop breathing waiting for the pick to be announced. He knew all to well that in a last minute chance they could have decided not to pick him. 

But I knew that, that didn’t happen. 

There is no way they couldn’t have picked him. 

“Toronto’s proud to announce from Zurich Men’s League Switzerland, from US Program Auston Matthews.” My heart had stopped beating, while my brother had started to smile since the first time we walked in. He stood up and hugged our mother first, followed by our younger sisters. Our older sister was after. The spotlight and cameras were on him the whole time. 

He hugged our father and his friends behind us before turning to me. His arms wrapped around my smaller figure holding me close to him. His lips were pressed to the shell of my ear, “Y/n I love you so much more than you know, and I couldn’t have done this without you. You’re my twin sister move to Toronto with me. Please.” 

His whispers and the fact that he was taking the longest moment with me out of all of our family made me have butterflies grow in my stomach. I was so happy for him. I pulled myself out of his arms to look up at him, a full blown smile across my face. “I love you too Aus and you could have made it without me. You just probably wouldn’t be as good. I’ve never been, and never could be more proud of you than I am right now. And of course I’ll more to Toronto with you.” 

Auston’s million dollar smile graced his face, before he pulled me close to him again. A kiss was placed on my temple once more, “You’ve just made me the happiest twin brother ever.” Pulling away from me he had started to make his way to the stage. My parents had pulled me into their embrace, but instead of looking to them I stayed focused on the Arizona native hockey player on the stage. 

Walking across he shook hands with everyone, before struggling to try and pull the jersey over his head. 

I could never be more proud than I was right now. 

I stood in the stands of the Ottawa Senators arena with my parents on either side of me. Auston was lining up for another face off. He had already scored three goals tonight, and was probably looking for the fourth. It was only because in my first high school game I had scored four. Then in his next US Program game, he went out and scored five. 

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how competitive we were. Our mother had already been crying, and I couldn’t stop smiling to save my life this was my twin brother who was older by ten minutes. You could also see that Auston was trying hard to keep the smirk off his face. 

He had one the draw, and now the Leafs were trying to break the puck out of our zone. The people who were getting the job done, was Auston and Will. The pair now had a two-on-one. Will had carried the puck over the blue line before passing it back to Auston, and he put the puck into the back of the net. I jumped from my seat once again, cheering for my brother, and boyfriend. 

The game then dragged on, and we ended up losing in overtime. But it didn’t matter to me as I made my way down to the locker room so I could congratulate my brother. Auston was standing out of the locker room. Turning to look over at me a smile laced his features like he could tell I was coming. 

Will was standing next to my brother a bright smile also covering his face once he saw me. “Auston,” I whispered smiling back at him, before jumping up and wrapping my arms and legs around him. “You’re something else my dear twins brother.” 

I felt as his chest vibrated underneath my body. “It’s only because you scored three in your college debut,” he then went on to tease before setting my small body on the ground. My brother’s bigger frame stayed wrapped around me, and the smell of sweat and washed out Old Spice filled my nostrils. 

“I’m still here guys,” Will’s voice called making me pull away from my brother. Slowly Auston released me from his hold allowing me to walk over to Will and hug him. Kissing his cheek he answered, “That’s better.” 

I rolled my e/c orbs while making eye contact with Auston who was now starting a post-game interview. “And here I thought I had good hands, but damn did Auston prove me wrong. His are so much better.” My smile grew at Will’s words, and as Auston smiled back at me. 

Biting my lip I turned to face Will. “Oh trust me, I know,” I explained looking back at Will’s shiny blue eyes, before looking back to Auston’s big brown ones that had lit up his whole face. Pure joy and happiness had soon taken over his facial features. 

“I know better that anybody.” 

I had walked into the apartment next to Auston, Mitch and Matt Martin in front of us. “Why did you guys ask me to come?” I asked not seeing one person in the room that I knew, other than the three men I came with. 

Auston looked back at me grinning “We’re never apart - plus I wanted to beat you at your own game.” It was my turn to start grinning while I stuck my hand out for him to shake. 

“Oh it’s on Aus; I can’t wait to see you cry when you lose to me.” Dramatically he rolled his eyes before narrowing them on to me. 

“Don’t worry Y/n/n, you’ll be the one crying in the end,” he remarked before we went and started this little ordeal. The video cameras were everywhere, while we started this little game. Before Matt, Mitch, Auston, and I got the chance for us to start the shootout challenge we each had to do an intro. 

For mine, I kept it simple, “Hey I’m Y/n Matthews, and I’m just here to beat Auston.” Mitch was the first to shoot, and had only scored one goal. Auston was next, and had scored on his first one. He fell short and only finished with three out of ten. 

Matt was after, and on his second goal had broken the net. “I bet I beat all of you,” I spoke earning the attention of Mitch. 

“No way will you beat Auston,” Mitch said giving me a look before watching Matt work on his last couple of shots. 

“Well we all know I’ll beat you,” I teased grabbing the stick from Matt and walking to the line. I could hear Auston and Matt both laughing at my comment, while Mitch sat there with his mouth hanging open. 

“For all of your sakes I really hope this unknown girl doesn’t just swoop in and beat all of you.” 

I rolled my eyes before taking a quick wrist shot, making it in the top right corner. “I call this performance the Y/n Matthews, because it’s the one that Auston will never be able to outdo.” 

And just like that I had scored all ten of my shots, meaning I had beaten the three NHL players. 

“I don’t think I could ever be more proud of you,”  Auston recalled as we walked into our apartment. I laughed while closing the door, and shrugging my jacket off. “Seriously Y/n where did you learn how to do that?” 

“Uh, from practicing, and my ability to be better than you helped.” Aus just stood there in the middle of the kitchen shaking his head and laughing at me. I kicked off my converse placing them next to Will’s Nikes that were laying on the shoe rack. “Oh Will’s over by the way.” 

I had started to make my way back to my room when I heard Auston groan. My last sentence must have just hit him. “Really? You don’t say Will’s here. I couldn't tell by his shoe on our shoe rack, or the fact that his car keys are on our counter. I better not hear anything - impure coming from your room or so help god I will come in there - even if you're naked, and I will kill him. I swear to go Y/n-” 

Cringing I glared at him, “Come one Auston we aren’t that stupid. We’d go to his apartment if we wanted to have sex. Plus it’s not like I don’t get stuck staying up all hours because of you and all of your girls you bring up here.” Auston’s mouth was on the floor as he glared at me. 

He had started to chase me into my room screaming cruses at me, until I slammed the bedroom door into his face. Leaning my back against it I had gotten to see that Will was lying on my bed mindlessly scrolling through his phone unfazed by the fact that Auston and I had been fighting. 

It was a normal thing for us. 

Phineas and Ferb was playing on my smart TV. Sighing I went to admit defeat before pulling the door open to see Auston hunched over at the kitchen counter. “Aus we’re watching Phineas and Ferb if you wanna join.” 

In a flash he was in my room lying down next to Will. The Swedish hockey player had set his phone down, and let my twin brother lay in his arms so they could cuddle. “Wow, I feel so loved right now.” 

Auston and Will shared a look before staring at me, “We do love you - not.” 

Flicking them off I stomped my way over to the queen sized bed and curled up into a ball on the opposite side of them. “Why do I love either of you?” 

Once again I sat in between my brother and father. Our hands were intertwined resting in Auston’s lap. “I don’t think I’m going to win,” Auston mumbled as the speaker started to announce the rookies that were up for the Calder. 

“Don’t say that Aus,” I started to say giving his hand a light squeeze, “I have a great feeling that you will.” Auston gave me the are-you-kidding-me look. 

“I dunno Y/n/n,” he whispered against my temple before placing a kiss there. “I need a little bit of luck on my side.” Nodding I leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek for extra luck. 

“And the Calder Memorial Trophy goes too,” my hand squeezed Auston’s a little bit stronger. It seemed like the pause had lasted forever before the envelope was opened. “Auston Matthews.” 

Auston had squeezed my hand kissing my temple before standing up. He hugged our parents, then our sisters and finally me. 

His whole body wrapped around me in a bone crushing hug, “See if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“I told you so,” I sang smiling up at him, “but I’ve never been so proud of you Aus. I love you so much.” 

“You told me that last time,” he whispered smirking down at me while he pulled away from our hug and walked up to the stage. My smile only grew as I watched my brother walk up the stairs to receive his award. 

“Why is it every time something happens for either of those two, they always hug each other the longest, or always congratulate each other the most?” Breyana asked my mother. 

She simply smiled over at me then looked up to Auston, “It’s a twin thing dear, nobody’s going to be able to come in between those two.” She was right nobody was going to come in between me and Auston. 

Auston now stood on the stage accepting his award with a smile on his face. “Thank you, uh, first congrats Zach, Patrik on unbelievable years. I mean you guys are great player’s fun to watch.” 

My gaze snapped over to the other two NHL rookies before looking back to my brother. “Fun to compete against. Um, my family, my parents. Uh, thank you guys just for everything you’ve done for me just to get to this point I wouldn’t be here without you guys. Uh the Toronto Maple Leafs all my teammates, coaches, management, staff for all the help all year long. The city of Toronto, Leafs nation.” 

In the crowd there were uproars of cheers coming from the Maple Leafs fans. “You guys are the best fans in the league. And finally to my twin sister Y/n. Without you in this world I wouldn’t be anywhere, I’d be nothing. You push me to be better than you and to be my best I could possibly be. You’ve been there for me, and now you’re stuck with me for the rest of this crazy ride. So thank you.” 

His big brown eyes locked with my e/c one’s and I could see the tears forming at his waterline, a million dollar smile lighting the rest of his face up. Turning on his feet he followed the people on stage and walked off. 

Later a security guard came and found us, saying that Auston was asking for us. We all followed him, to take pictures with Auston and his award. He motioned for me to join him, which I did; standing next to the trophy we both had giant smiles on our faces. 

We took multiple, and then one with our whole family. Auston was holding me close to him. 

“Never apart,” he whispered into my ear as we sat back down in our seats. He was offering me a fist bump to go along with what he had just said. 

“Never apart,” I answered fist bumping him. 

[nhl-imagines-posts]

Auston Matthews - Mug of Hot Chocolate

Team: Toronto Maple Leafs

Requested: Yes: Can you do an Auston Matthews one where y'all are best friends and y'all confess y'alls true feelings (that they love each other more than friends)?

Edited: Yes

Word count: 841

Summary: You confess your real feelings for each other

~

 “What are you doing?” Auston laughs as I cut in front of him, pressing my body against his to prevent him from getting the puck.

“I’m guarding you,” I explain.

He laughs even more, picking me up by the waist with one arm.

“Hey, don’t pick on the short kid!” I shout, hitting his arm with my hockey stick.

He doesn’t say anything, laughing that stupid laugh that makes my heart flutter and running across Mitch’s driveway to accept the pass from him, shooting it into the net behind Steph.

“Steph!” I throw up my hands in exasperation, teasing her for being a shitty goalie.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have to work so hard if you just did your job instead of flirting with lover boy over there,” she teases back.

I roll my eyes but a blush covers my cheeks.

Auston sets me down, giving me the chance to gently hit Steph in the shins with my stick.

“You’re mean,” I stick my tongue out at her.

“And you’re in love. Just date already!” She yells.

“Mitchell, control your girlfriend.”

“Hey, I can’t control her when she’s right.”

I roll my eyes, walking inside the house to grab a water bottle.

I hear footsteps following me and I instantly know who it is.

“Hey, you alright?” The voice confirms my thoughts.

I nod, turning around to send the Arizona boy a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Auston.”

“Sorry they always tease you like that,” he responds awkwardly.

It’s weird.

Before we started having feelings for each other and we were just friends, I would watch him pull out the charm on girls in clubs.

He would flirt with them and get them out the door in easily ten minutes.

But ever since we started to have feelings for each other, he’s been distant from me.

When we do talk, it’s like nothing’s changed.

Well, it feels like a little bit has changed.

There’s always something in the air that feels like we have to say something to each other.

And it’s because we do.

We need to talk to each other about our feelings and how to start dating.

We haven’t got the chance to talk about it yet in the past month that this feeling has been hanging around.

I nod, not knowing what else to say.

Well, that’s a lie.

I know we could start to talk about our feelings for each other, but I can tell he just wants this conversation to end.

“It’s whatever,” I finally say, walking past him and back to the driveway.

I plop beside Steph on the step, watching as the boys fight and laugh with each other.

“They’re ridiculous,” she tells me.

“Your boyfriend’s going to come back to you all black and blue,” I inform her, watching as Willy shoves him onto the grass and kicks him in the side.

“So is yours,” she agrees as Willy does the same thing to Auston.

“Willy stop bullying your friends,” I yell out, watching a sheepish expression appear on his face.

They always listen to me- I’m the mom of the group.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble to the blonde, bending down like I’m fixing my shoelace.

My shoes don’t even have shoelaces.

“You’re still not dating?”

I shake my head and she lets out a noise in distaste. “Just date already.”

“It’s not that easy, Steph, he never wants to talk about it,” I inform her.

“Well make him. And if he really acts like it’s that big of a deal… maybe he’s not the right guy for you.”

~~~

“Hey, what are you doing in here? Everybody’s outside,” a voice questions.

I look up from my steaming mug of hot chocolate.

It’s the first snowfall and everyone is outside building forts and snowmen but I’m inside making hot chocolate for everyone to drink.

I did that for two reasons.

1, to be a good friend.

And 2, because I know that my disappearance will cause Auston to stray inside to talk to me.

And I need to talk to him about our dating situation.

“Auston, I need to talk to you,” I start, setting the mug down.

“Uh oh, am I in trouble?” He jokes, sitting at the kitchen stool next to me.

I don’t laugh, causing his smile to fade.

“I need to know what we are.”

“What?” I can barely hear his voice.

“I need to know what we are,” I repeat. “Are we dating, are we just friends? I can’t handle this in between-“Before I can continue my sentence his hands are gripping my face and his lips are on mine.

They move against each other slowly, just getting to know each other after all of the emotions we’ve caused one another to have.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. “I would love to date you.”

“Okay. Ask me out.”

He laughs at my demand, stroking my cheek with his thumb gently. “Y/N Y/L/N, would you like to go out with me?”

“Of course I would.”

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