#Tbh a lot of it so far is description

[digitalmidnight]

Doubled the word count of the fic, but we are only 1/3 of the way done with the chapter plot wise

[periprose]

How are people writing fanfiction for characters in shows that literally haven't come out yet?

like we don't really know anything about this guy. And if it's following the typical fargo format... lol some of these fanfictions are gonna age poorly.

[reverie-starlight]

I miss knb and I wanted to write something for aomine :’) I’ve never written for him and it’s been a while since I’ve watched the show, so forgive me if you feel that his characterization is a bit off. hello from late january cause that’s when I’m queuing this 👋🏻

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. lots and lots and lots of fluffy pet names bc that’s the focus of the drabble. he calls you shnookums once just to annoy you bc he’s a little shit. that’s a warning in itself tbh. mentions of alcohol/drunk character. characters written as adults, not high schoolers.

aomine has specific nicknames for you depending on the situation you find yourselves in.

he reserves “babe” or some shortened variation of your name for when you’re in public.

it’s quick, it’s casual, and it doesn’t get him a lecture on why it’s not funny to very loudly address you as “shnookums” when you get separated at the grocery store.

(though in his defence, he thought it worked wonders. you were back at his side within seconds after straying too far on accident with a half embarrassed, half pissed off look on your face. he thought it was hilarious.)

~~~

he calls you “baby” when he greets you after a long day at work. when he’s picking you up from your classes. normally only in your presence, because he doesn’t need the teasing remarks about how soft he’s become from his teammates.

not that he really cares at the end of the day- he’ll call you what he wants to call you (provided you also like it, of course) but there’s something less casual about it that makes him want to keep it just for you.

that “something” being the time you got drunk and offhandedly mentioned loving the way it sounds in his voice. he now gets to enjoy the small, barely noticeable uptick of your lips whenever he opts for it. no one else gets to see that.

he’ll help you with your coat and press a kiss to your hairline, murmuring a soft “hey baby, missed you today”.

it’s probably the most common of the names he uses on you out of all the available options.

~~~

he saves the saccharine pet names for when he knows you’re not feeling your best. whether you’re mentally drained, physically exhausted or sick to any degree, there’s never not a time when hearing him be sickeningly sweet with you doesn’t ease the pain.

“need anything else, sweetheart?”

“how are you feeling, gorgeous?”

“yeah, we can cuddle, doll, c’mere.”

these are also the times he plays up the compliments (more than usual).

“even when you’re sick, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. don’t let it get to your head, though. or do- I know how to deal with that just fine, too.”

~~~

he doesn’t have one set nickname for you when you visit him at practice, but when you watch him play in an official game?

as long as you’ve known him, he’s never believed in luck- he got himself to where he is with his skills, luck had nothing to do with it.

so it surprises you the first time he refers to you as his good luck charm. it’s not said in some grand gesture, not brought up in those fluff promotional interviews when reporters ask him if he has one.

it’s whispered quietly into your ear before he jogs onto the court.

a murmured thank you against your lips as soon as he’s running off again, high on a win, straight to you.

you ask him about it one day and he just shrugs. “everything is different now. I play better when I know you’re watching, it’s energizing in a way I’ve never felt before. you’re right, I still don’t believe in luck, but somehow I was able to find you. and I don’t know if I would call that luck, either, but until I find a better way to explain it you’re just gonna have to put up with that title a bit longer.”

so you do, without complaints, because it’s cute trying to watch him convey his feelings honestly and still in a very aomine way.

~~~

your absolute favourite nickname that he’s given you, though? angel.

you’re his angel.

the title is first appointed when you pick him up one night from a bar after celebrating with his team. his usually brooding expression visibly lights up when he sees you and he makes his way over. it’s been a while since he’s been this drunk, so it makes you laugh when he stumbles over and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“what a sweetheart, you really came to pick me up?”

you scoff and try to get him into the car, waving at his teammates who were staying with him until you got there. “what, baby, you thought I wouldn’t?”

he shrugs with an absentminded grin. “it’s just nice to have a… battle angel or whatever that term is. I dunno what it is.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you mean a guardian angel?”

“same thing, you knew what I meant!” his words are slurred and he’s now leaning his entire body weight against you.

“oh you are so wasted, daiki, let’s get you home.”

and it’s whispered again at home as he’s falling asleep, “my angel… thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

your heart squeezes.

now it’s reserved for only the most intimate of moments with him- he doesn’t want to overuse the name and risk it losing its meaning.

because it does hold a deeper, unspoken meaning between the two of you.

after a long time apart because of his away games? after he wins an important match? loses a match and he’s thankful you’re there with him? you get a promotion at work? you pass a difficult class with flying colours? all situations where he’d call you angel.

he has a full arsenal of names for you, clearly, and you love every single one of them.

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

this feels a bit messy. even after editing, I feel like the quality went down a bit, so we’ll see if I end up posting it. but I love him a lot and I’ve been rewatching knb, so I needed to do something for him to keep the brainrot at bay.

tagging: @dira333

[jamsterrr]

N. RIKI . . . MY BIGGEST HEADACHE ⭑.ᐟ

ni-ki. manager. headache proned. annoyance. teasing. “ just because you’re the assiastant doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do “. dickhead.

description. you grew up with your older brother heeseung playing basketball, so you knew much more than the next girl. but being the captain’s assistant isn’t easy when your your brothers annoying friend is apart of the team. when you get stuck riding with him on the way home. how will you do?

words : 2.8k

ni-ki x female!reader

contains. ‼️ ; sap , slight making out , tongue kissing ( ?? ) , cursing. ( let me know if i missed anything ! )

WARNING. : everything is fictional! and this is not how any of the enhypen members are at all! this is purely for fun and entertainment <3

part 1: my biggest headache | part 2: mbh: bet chapter

link to my masterlist . . . !

don’t take this serious. this is just a fanfic. tbh.. idk what this is.. i’m not even going to lie.. this kind of sucks.. and I feel like i should’ve named it something different but idk. it seemed to fit??! sorry if it’s so sappy, I was trying to at least get something out to you guys! 🥺 sorry it took me so long to put something out. i was sick for like the whole first week of august and i have a lot of stuff going on. but i have so many good drabbles! stay tuned <3 ( heeseung , jake , sunghoon drabbles soon ehehe )

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

You were fairly a good student. You didn't do much outside of school but volunteer stuff, and that's probably how you ended up here in the first place. At the gym at 6:00 on a Friday, watching the team you helped coach, score each time from the other team. You had been ripping and running all day. You were tired, hungry, dehydrated and felt like you smelt like the bottom of Shrek's ass.

Your eyes were bouncing all over the court, landing on your brother Lee Heeseung, captain of the basketball team. Since you could remember, he was always teaching you something about basketball. At a young age you came to love it. It was something you both held dear to your hearts and something you bonded over. You would've joined if your school had a girls basketball team, but no one was interested. Accompanying your brother on the courts were his closest and best friends, some you came to adore and know.

Others... not so much.

They were Jake Sim. His longest friend. Park Sunghoon. Typically, the quietest one. Park Jongseong. But people called him Jay. And Nishimura Riki. But he went by the name Ni-ki. He was by far the most annoying. Maybe it's because he was the closest to your age. Or maybe it was the way that he didn't listen to anything you said, no matter what it was. You could hand him a water bottle in the hot sun, and he wouldn't take it.

That happened. Literally last weekend.

Each time it was the same thing. He wouldn’t comply with you, he’s always knock you down during practice, though you weren’t scared to try and do it back, though his height advantage beat you sometimes.

You tried to keep your cool. For your sake.

Regardless, you always tried to be nice to him, over and over. Chance after chance. But your patience was running thin. During the remainder of the first half of the game, you continued to watch, seeing the score for your team go up. The crowd cheering with each dribble of the ball down the court, Jake shooting and scoring a point. Soon the buzzer buzzed, and the first half of the game was over. You finally took the chance to sit down, taking a small seat until Heeseung came over and you smiled, a wave of happiness coming over you as you seen your brother.

"Hey." He spoke to you out of breath, his heart lips showing his full smile as you handed him a cold washcloth. "Hey." You replied back, watching him. The male mumbled a small thank you and you waited for him to finish before continuing to speak. "You did amazing out there. It was like watching Lebron James" you joked, and he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder. "Lying is bad, you'll get lie bumps." he said, sticking out his tongue at you.

You grinned and replied back. "Must be why your taste buds are visible. The two of you laughed before spotting Jake, his hands resting above his head. "Hey, Y/n" he spoke, your name rolling off his tongue, followed by his Australian accent. "Mind rounding up a couple water bottles for us Seven?" he asked, and you nodded. Knowing Jungwon and Nicholas were going to be put in the next game. "Of course, I'll be right back." You said, excusing yourself from the conversation you were having before making your way to concessions.

The line was full, and you had approximately 18 minutes to make it back with water bottles for the seven. While standing in line you couldn't help but notice Ni-ki walking from out the double doors, you crossed your fingers hoping he wouldn't bother you. To your luck, he didn't.

That was a first.

Waiting what felt like hours but had only been a couple of seconds, you felt a slightly taller presence behind you, their hands wrapped around your body as you slightly tensed. "Guess who~?" they sung out and you laughed. It was your best friend, Sunoo. The two of you met in Middle school when he was in 8th grade, two grades higher than you back when you met. The two of you instantly clicked.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought you went on that date?" you asked, and he moved his hands, pouting his perfect lips. "They cancelled, but hey, it's their loss." he spoke, and you nodded, agreeing with him.

"What are you in the concession line for?" The male asked, the two of you in your own little world, ignoring the hustle of the outside world, anyone but you two. "I'm getting water for everyone on the team, though I'm annoyed none of them brought their own water bottles." You groaned, leaning your head back slightly. "Or maybe they did and just want to make your life harder." Sunoo grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes as it was finally your turn to place your order. "Yes, May I please have 8 water bottles?" you say as the small child that was helping rounded up your total. Sunoo leaned over and whispered to you. "I thought you only needed Seven?" "Well, I want one too" you frowned.

After a small call over from the child, another lady helped them calculate the total, the little kid speaking. "That will be $16 ma'am, cash or card?" he asked, "Cash" you responded, feeling around in your pocket, patting your jacket *and* pants pocket, but not being able to find it nowhere. You leaned over to Sunoo, whispering slightly. "Do you by chance have $17 dollars? I'll pay you back, I promise you" said as he shook his head. "No, I only have 5, the ticket lady took my money" he frowned.

You couldn't even deal with the mountain of embarrassment that came over your body at the moment, your cheeks flushing red. Hell, your whole face. Until you saw a hand reaching across, and a $20 bill being handed to the small boy that started to count the change. You and Sunoo both looked over to see Ni-ki, his hair slightly sticking to his face, his side profile causing you to stare with a slight smirk on his face. You were slightly mesmerized by the males looks. He definitely wasn't the worst looking person you'd ever seen. If only his attitude towards you wasn't such a dickhead thing. Who knows, maybe the two of you would actually be friends. Sunoo and you collected the water while Ni-ki collected his change.

--

The three of you stepped out of line. "Uh, thanks..." you said, holding the cold-water bottles, before feeling Ni-ki take one from your hands. "Well, you were looking a little embarrassed in the line..." he said, sucking in air through his teeth. "I wouldn't have wanted to be you" he laughed, turning around. "I'll take my $17 in any form of payment" he said before turning around and walking back through the black double doors. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watch Sunoo roll his eyes. "Gosh, I don't know how you have the strength to deal with him. He's so sarcastic."

"To be fair, so are you" you laughed, and Sunoo rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, but I'm better" he joked, and you shook your head. "Okay, let's get these to the boys" you said, leading Sunoo to the boys, making their way over to you, thanking you for the water and smiling. "About time." Heeseung joked as you rolled your eyes and sat down.

Oh, weren't you ready to go home.

--

Once the second quarter of the game started you were back in your mode, making sure to keep look for any fouls. The people that were playing the game now was Nicholas, Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon and Ni-ki. The quote-on-quote best players on the team.

Your eyes kept flickering towards Ni-ki. Trying hard to look away but the male was so captivating even though he boiled your blood with the things he said. As the crowd cheered, your eyes jumped to the score board. 42 ( — ) 24. Heeseung was on the 3-point line, dribbling the ball as he tossed the ball to Ni-ki who threw it back to Heeseung after distracting a couple of the opposing teammates that were near him at the time. Your brother shot the basketball, from the line. It goes in with a... *SWISH*.

The people on the crowd stood up, stomping and shouting, the cheerleaders performing and waiving their pompoms. The band performing. Total chaos in the school's gymnasium. A big smile on your face as you watched your brother get showered in the love he deserved.

You ran towards him, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a big hug. Feeling a sense of pride for your brother, for him to be doing something he truly enjoyed and getting credit for it along with the rest of the team. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness. All those long weekends of practice and after school practice came in handy. The score flashing 45 ( — ) 24.

--

“Hey, can you get a ride from Ni-ki? I’m not going straight home and everyone else already left. I already asked him, and he said yes.” Heeseung spoke as you frowned. “I really don’t want to; you know me and him don’t get alone. I can’t promise you I’ll be nice.” You crossed your arms as you put your book-bag strap over your shoulder, after uncrossing your arms.

“Oh, come on, try and be nice? I will be home later but I’m sure you’re ready to just go home. It’s only like a 15-minute drive, you will be okay.” Heeseung spoke, leaning and pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Don’t wait up for me.” He spoke. “WASNT. planning on it” you said slightly annoyed, but you couldn’t even be mad at him. You sighed, searching the halls, calling out the male's name gently, getting louder with each call.

“Ni-ki!” You shouted, groaning as you looked around, screaming and raising your hand to hit the male once he popped out from the corner, grabbing your hand as he laughed. His hand holding your wrist, gripping it tightly. “God-! You scared the shit out of me!” You whine and gently took your wrist from his hand. The male let it go and laughed a little. “Yeah, sorry about that... not” he laughed, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying. Take me home.” The attitude evident in your voice as he rolled his eyes at it, standing there for a second, his gaze burning a whole into you.

You took a deep breath before looking at the male and hummed. “Please...” you said, biting your tongue. You didn’t want to stall anymore, you just wanted to go home and that was it. Needing a hot shower, something to eat and relax yourself on your bed since it was the afternoon. “Yes, I can.” He finally spoke, him glancing at you before he started walking to the back of the school, the parking lot where every student with a car parked. It was quiet except for the two of your footsteps, the sound of the door opening as he held it out for you, a soft “thank you” escapes your lips as the two of you made it quietly to the male's car.

Not knowing whether it would be rude of not to sit in the back seat, you got into the passenger side of the male's car, placing your book bag on the floorboard in-front of you, buckling up your seatbelt.

Ni-ki did the same and started the car, turning on the radio as he drove off. The first bit of the car ride was a little awkward. You didn’t move much, causing you to get a slight stiff in your neck since you were looking out your window. Something came over you that made you ask the question.

“Why are you always such an asshole to me?” You didn’t know why you had the urge to say it right now out of all times, I mean you could have just easily did it at school when you didn’t have to see him that much, but you asked him in his car. “An asshole to you?” He answered your question with a question. Leaning back in his seat as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes roaming your body.

“Yeah, an asshole to me.” You replied firmly. “I’m not an asshole to you.” He answered, causing you to scoff. “Ni-ki, don’t play stupid with me. You know what I’m talking about. Ever since I started being the assistant you have gave me nothing but trouble. I want to know why, what have I done to you?” You asked, now starting to wonder what truly could be behind the male's mind. Ni-ki started driving, the car ride being silent. Filled with the awkward silence and the soft tunes of the radio. The time flew by. To you it seemed like it’s been at least an hour. But the 15 minutes was coming to a stop.

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fun to mess with.” He spoke, but you weren’t buying it. “Can I ask you a question?” Ni-ki asked, pulling up in front of your house, parking in the driveway, in the spot Heeseung normally parked in, but since he wasn’t home. Ni-ki used it. “What’s that?” You ask, slightly curious at the question you were about it to be asked.

“Do you and Sunoo date?” He asked, not looking at you, his eyes staring straight forward as he bit his bottom lip gently, putting the car into park.

Nothing could have prepared you for that question. You widened your eyes slightly at it. “What- no- Sunoo is my best friend. Why would you even ask that? What business is it to you?” You asked, - shocked - your lips slightly agape. “Good.” Is all he said.

“Good??!” You repeated and he finally looked at you, his eyes flickering around your face, clearly noticing your slightly distraught but concerned look.

What happened to the Ni-ki I know? The one that makes me want to ring my brain out. Why was he acting like this?

The male licked his lips and gently placed his hand on your cheek, biting his bottom lip as you felt your heart began to race. “Wh-what are you doing?” You question before feeling his soft and plush lips against yours. Your eyes closing as you let yourself melt into the kiss. it was like something snapped inside of you. After all these times, the feelings you couldn’t deny rushed into your body, butterflies fluttering with each sound both of your lips made smacking together.

Your body was turned, facing his as you ran your hands through his hair, his hands placed on your hips, slightly rubbing the skin there. His tongue poked at your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, allowing the males tongue to explore the inside of your mouth.

The two of you pulled away the only thing connecting you two was a single strand of spit that was soon gone, heavy pants playing loudly over the man that was speaking on the radio. “What was that..?” You questioned, licking your lips as your eye fluttered to look at him.

A soft smirk appeared on his lips. “Me saying that I’ll pick you up tomorrow, that we should actually get to know each other better.” Ni-ki smiled and placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek.

“Can I see about that..?” You slightly blushed and he nodded. Taking his hand, you gently intertwined your fingers and placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand, getting out of the car and grabbing your backpack. “See you..” you said before he waved and returned it with a smile. “See you.” Once you were clear out of the way of the car, Ni-ki pulled off and made his way out of the neighborhood, you stood still for a second, sighing as you watched his car disappear. You touched your lips which were now a little swollen and a bit tingling from the kiss that still lingered on your mind.

Gosh, what did you do.

After you finally showered, feeling the freshest that you could, you sat down in your bed, hearing a bunch of iPhone dings coming from your notifications. It was a group chat filled with the basketball team, excluding your brother. A new one.

Y/N kisses Ni-ki. [ the bet. ]

Ni-ki: [ *sent 2 attatchments, picture & video* ]

Jake: I knew it was going to happen.

Nicho: Ha! Called it. Pay up.

Jungwon: SOOOO not fair. I thought it’d be at least 2 months.

Sunghoon: damn, I owe Sunoo $70

Jay: 💀

You widen your eyes. Was that what that was? Were you just a bet. To see how long it would be until you kissed someone apart of the basketball team. Your best friend even participating in it. You felt disgusting. Your head pounding after you left the group chat, tears welding into your eyes. Your head pounding.

“Fucking Nishimura. My biggest headache.”

[vvallent1ne]

Taking What’s Not Yours

sebastian solace x gn reader :))

ehe. the hyperfixation is bad …

i honestly wrote this because a friend asked me to, so thank you to them!! 😊

wc: 1,401

small description: you haven’t seen sebastian in a good long while.

warnings: hugging, sexual innuendo(s)??, just a lot of tension overall tbh, seb is kinda 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, but nothing actually happens besides hugging you FREAKS, seb and reader both love each other 😊, small relationship doubts from reader, honestly just a very anxious reader altogether, seb is tall as fuck, reader is a human prisoner!!, reader is GENDER NEUTRAL !! 👏👏

song that inspired fic: taking what’s not yours by TV Girl !!

This run around the Blacksite was particularly taxing. You’d been here for hours and you still haven’t gotten past door 45. The entities really seemed to have it out of for this time around, appearing more frequently than usual.

Maybe they were all just cranky today. You understood.

To make matters worse, you had accidentally flashed Eyefestation with your flash beacon out of fear and enraged it. Great. Just what you needed. You had also previously opened a false door out of pure impatience and got a big chunk of your health taken off. You were low on health and patience today.

Luckily, you knew that Sebastian’s room would be coming soon, and this realization brought a heat and hue to your cheeks. You were excited to see him. Him, a monster you once feared, turned into the man you were excited to see. You sighed to yourself, knowing that you were stupidly falling head over heels.

Soon enough, you had walked into room 49 and immediately heard the familiar sound of the metal of Sebastian’s vent hitting the concrete flooring. It used to startle you, but now, it brings you a sense of comfort.

“You know where to find me.” His sirenic voice cooed from inside the vent, practically drawing you in. You could feel your face slipping open with an idiotically happy smile as you began to maneuver down the vent.

“I know where to look.” You responded, your glee evident in your tone. How many days has it been, you wondered, since you had last seen him? Did he miss you, as you missed him? Did he share the same aching of your ribs, the enclosing feeling that you were far from the one you loved? You hoped he did.

You paused at the eye of the vent, right before his office, and furrowed your brows in worry. What if he wasn’t happy to see you? What if he was enjoying his break from you, a “silly human” as he liked to call you.

Were you reading too much into this, or too little?

“Hey now, you know I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” He teased, the last pasty said under his breath, but still heard by you. Your cheeks warmed, questioning if he truly did mean it in that way or not. You shook your disruptive thoughts out of your mind and continued to crawl outside of the vent and into Sebastian’s office.

You turned your body around so that you could land on your feet instead of your face. You had learned from a previous encounter that Sebastian was never going to let you live that down. Hell, even if you died, he wouldn’t let go of it.

“Woah now, don’t hurt that pretty face of yours again.” He chuckled, the memory flooding back into his mind. You noticed the small compliment thrown in with this teasing. Pretty, huh? He should look in a mirror. The realization soon set in that he had called your face … pretty? You felt your entire body heat up once again. Why was he being so flirtatious today?

Throughout you two’s relationship, though only having begun a few weeks ago, Sebastian had never been this charming with his compliments or as… direct with his innuendos. This side of him seemed like a completely different person. What had changed about him since you were gone?

You made a conscious effort to ignore his fluster-inducing compliment and made sure to land securely on your feet. You looked a bit to the right, expecting him to be in his normal place.

Instead, your eyes caught view of him practically right in front of you, his height towering over you like a human to an ant. That was also, coincidentally, how you felt around him as of now. Like a small, crushable ant.

You had to crane your neck all the way up to look him in his three eyes, and you noticed that each of them lingered only on you. It felt weird to have so much of his attention on you all at one time, you were practically squirming under his vice-like gaze.

“Long time no see,” You spoke, trying to alleviate the awkward tension you were feeling. Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem with it. You moved around him, heading towards his tail to hopefully be cleared of his stare, but it was of no use. “How’ve you been?” You asked genuinely. You were told once that the best way to get someone’s attention off of you, was to get them to talk about themselves.

However, Sebastian just stared at you, as apathetic as ever. You guessed that he saw through your tactic, and you were now suddenly very nervous. He slithered his tail away from you, right as you were about to buy a first aid kit for your wounds, and came towards you with his upper body.

He lowered himself down as far as he could without discomfort, and his arms were around you in an instant. You stood there, still, unmoving, for at least seven seconds. Your mouth gaped and your eyes shot wide open, not at all expecting his gesture. You eventually snapped out of your dazed state and wrapped your two, music smaller arms, around his neck.

Despite being a combination of a bunch of cold-blooded fish, he was still the warmest thing you’ve ever felt. You practically melted into the hug, and he grasped your waist with two hands to keep you upright. His other hand came to the back of your head, pushing you into his clothed chest and playing with your hair.

So this was heaven, huh?

You’ve never felt so loved, so doted over, so cared for. All of the horrors from outside these four walls faded into a distant memory in the back of your head. That’s what Sebastian did. He protected you, inside and out, and held you like you were the most important thing in the world to him, and you held him the same. Because it was true. You were his world, and he, yours. Any and all of your doubts about him from your time away dispersed the second he touched you, held you, loved you.

In a place where there was no love to be found, he gave you the supply you had been missing. And so did you.

“Cut the small talk, I’ve missed you so.” He spoke in a hushed whisper against the shell of your right ear. You reddened immediately, however you weren’t sure if it was because of his words, or the fact that he was so close to you. Maybe both.

“Really?” You spoke, a teasing lilt in your voice. You hadn’t even realized how sultry it had sounded until it came out of your mouth. Your eyes widened m, fearing his reply, and praying it wouldn’t come with more teasing—you don’t think you could candle any more of it.

“Of course I do, I have no customers as great and pulchritudinous as you.” He replied, every word sounding genuine. You weren’t quite sure what that last adjective was, but you were blushing anyway. Damn him and his attractively wide vocabulary.

“You best not.” You spit back, unbridled jealousy obvious in your tone. You were too tired to try and hide it. Plus, Sebastian figures out everything you seem to be hiding regardless. He seemed to see through you almost, as if you were made of glass.

He gripped your hips tighter at the covetousness dripping from your words, his claws lightly grazing your skin through your diving gear.

“Oh, is that so?” He chuckled before smugly smirking down at your face, buried in his rumbling chest. “My, do you truly believe that anyone else could make me feel the things that you do, mon chéri?” He finished his teasing question by prying your head off his chest, using his third hand to grip your smaller chin, forcing you to look at him when you answered.

“I don’t know how I make you feel…” You trailed off. His eyes on your face, your cheeks, your lips, made you doubt anything you had said. You wanted him to approve of you so, so badly.

He looked down at you with an almost predatory hunger. His eyes became half-lidded as he leaned down to face you head-on.

“Would you like me to show you?”

[kutyozh]

not only langblr music resources

people irl often ask me where the heck i find the music i listen to, so i figured i might as well make a handy resource masterpost!

Radio Garden: Listen to radio stations all over the world. You can save your favourite stations, explore radio playlists, and search for stations in specific countries or cities. Love this one.

You can download the app (android and apple) or listen via your preferred browser.

Radiooooo: Lets you choose a country, a decade, and a 'genre' (slow, fast, or weird) to listen to.

You can download the app (android and apple) or listen via your preferred browser.

Every Noise At Once: Sounds overwhelming - and tbh it can be. For this reason I personally prefer to look at 'Genres by Country', although there are many other interesting playlists to look at, such as 'We Built This City On' or 'The Sounds of Places'. You can find more if you scroll all the way to the bottom.

Unfortunately, due to the layoff of the creator of this site, some features are not available anymore.

This website is entirely based on Spotify.

Charts: Charts can be tricky if you're looking for music in a specific language due to the insufferable dominance of music in english in uh a lot of countries. It is nevertheless worth checking them out. Spotify charts or Top 40 Charts are your places to go.

Tunefind: Heard a song in a film or tv show that you enjoy but can't find it in the credits? This is the website for you! I use it when shazam fails me or when I'm at the cinema and can't use it or w/e. The songs sometimes come with a description of the corresponding scene for easy checking. Just very handy to have on hand.

Local events: Check for concerts etc. in your area. I know this is not an option for everyone for a bunch of reasons, but if it is for you, visiting local concerts can be a gold mine. I got like ten whole new songs in spanish and one in rapanui from one event I went to (it was like a culture fest with singing, dancing, and poetry). Also listening to live music just connects you differently to the art imo.

Friends & Acquaintances: Last but not least; sometimes my nosiness beats my social anxiety and I simply ask people what they like to listen to. If I'm being extra confident, I ask if they listen to music in languages other than english. Go forth and ask people about their music, go go go!!

Spotify recs:

LindsayDoesLanguages. Individual language playlists + more

Shameless self promo - my own account with individual language playlists. Also on YouTube !

700+ Languages. A playlist by Matthew Bofenkamp that contains one (1) song per language, and as it says on the tin, Matthew has so far collected songs in over 700 languages. Might be a good starting point for more music in your language of interest! Accompanying g0ogle spreadsheet with youtube links here.

[thesonicpunk]

My favourite SNS fanfics (part 1)

Someone in the comments of my own fic asked for NaruSasu recs, so I thought I'd also make a post compiling my absolute favourites here! I've been so fortunate with the response to my work on AO3 so I hope this is a nice way to share the love around:

Inside this place is warm by magma. One shot, a cozy night in with Sasuke and hokage!Naruto where they figure out what they are to each other. It's short, so well written and the author really grasps the subtleness/complex nature of their relationship! (the author is @magmavox on tumblr!)

Swimming against the current by GODZILLA90095. Part 1 of the series with the same name. College AU. When I tell you I devoured this fanfic........ Lowkey-emo!Sasuke, hockey-player!Naruto. It's funny, it's got lots of pinning, it's got feels, it's got Naruto figuring out his sexuality in the most typically Naruto way, basically it's got IT ALL. And the writing is amazing. It was the fic that inspired me to get on the website and post my own work.

Tears don't fall by GODZILLA90095 (again bcs they rule). Part 1 of the series A different way but just as good. Modern AU. It's kind of a Naruto and Sasuke get a second chance in their 30s after a huge break-up. Naruto has kids with Hinata, but he's gay. It's heartbreaking, raw, real, beautiful.... fuckkkk read it!!!

The Symposium series by candlewix. Told from the perspective of ace!Kakashi. We see Naruto and Sasuke's love story across the years from his eyes. No one, I mean NO ONE, is as funny as this author. The way they write Kakashi's POV is hilarious, but so well balanced by the profound and beautiful descriptions the author writes about what Nart and Sake mean to each other. ugh.

We Deserved a Better Ending My Love by narutophobia. Reencarnation babyyy! Naruto and Sasuke in modern times, but everything that was in canon was real just reaaally long ago. Naruto remembers, searches for Sasuke (who doesnt remember!!). SHENANIGANS ensue. Beautiful love story and such an interesting take on things.

love like this is forever by moonplums.  Part 1 of the series forever. It's set in Boruto era/world - I am not usually into that tbh, it gives me anxiety to think about Sasuke and Naruto not getting together after the war BUT this series does it quite nicely, kind of like they have their awakening later in life and it's very cute how they have a family with the kids. Sarada's POV. Worth reading for sure!

when it all comes together, there's just you by kintou.  It's short fragments of both Naruto and Sasuke discovering their sexualities across the years, with and without each other. Super cute and interesting, and smutty! I love the concept. (author is @ao3-kintou on tumblr!)

I might one day make a part 2 to this, but so far these are the ones I've read that I really love! I hope it was ok to share these on here, if you are the author and would like me to remove (or tag you!) just message me.

If you read any of these and you like 'em, remember to leave a comment (any comment!). You can make the author's day with just a little emoji. <3

[north-noire]

I just had an urge to make my own designs/redesigns on TSE charlie and henry (ofc it's them), so feel free to read my notes/general character designs I had about them! (a little messy, but whatever)

also thought that drawing them with my designs from Hidden Hands AU would be a fun little compare and contrast!! (as my FNAF AU is more game-universe adjacent but still have a few of the novel elements such as Aunt Jen = Jennifer Emily, etc. Tbh I generally treat the FNAF novels and games as NOT the same universes at all, they're completely separate universes in my mind, I feel like it makes the fandom's interpretations a lot more creative/interesting in my opinion since there's really "no canon" universe, I mean we have THREE canons to work with now come on xD)

TSE Character Design notes and my own ramblings below the cut! I mostly just relied on the book descriptions of them and nothing much else other than my own inspiration gathering from 2000s fashion/horror games/media.

TSE charlie character design notes: in the novels' description, TSE charlie had frizzy hair and it was light brown. I found it strange that the graphic novel design overlooked that, so I had to add that in (nothing wrong with charlie's design, I actually quite like TFC Charlie). anyway, my TSE charlie design wears a patchwork denim because I thought it'd give her a little bit more character (and I like the symbolism of patchwork for her - being a person that Henry stitched up together with memories, etc etc. Although I don't like the TSE Charlie = robot twist, it just kinda grew on me) I also wanted her to have a 2000s horror protagonist vibe - although most of the characters I looked at for reference/inspiration had short skirts, so I did a "skirt-like" vibe with her tying TSE henry's flannel to her waist. I like the idea that she kept something of a memento from her father's stuff with her :]

TSE henry notes: his pants are pajamas. man is the ABSOLUTE face of depression. also wanted him to have not seen better days and really look like he's just wallowing in his basement with greying hairs and wrinkles and eyebags and definitely hasn't gone out in weeks, probably a month or so. also thought that glasses would suit him nicely - and I thought him having a long-sleeved flannel and his fit makes him look pretty much from the 2000s/Y2K era. Personally I feel like TSE Henry looked too plain and a problem I had that I had while reading the graphic novel is that they tended to make William and Henry look similar (I straight up thought that one William scene with Elizabeth's memory was Henry. That's how ungodly confused I was) which made it really look uninteresting to me, so I tried my best to make his design describe him a little better.

If you've read this far, thanks so much for reading this! It's just a little fun character design exercise I did and it was really fun having some creative freedom with these two characters!

[laora-ryn]

so I have a Magnus Protocol theory. it's not an airtight theory, but I think it holds enough water that I feel confident posting this today now that ep 21 is live

I think [ERROR] is Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. or what's become of him. or what's left of him

The short version:

Tape recorders spontaneously appear around [ERROR] and their victims

People are compelled to start reciting statements. We have an n of 3 total, but an n of 1 (of 3) where the statement and [ERROR] are directly linked

They were trapped in a water-logged space beneath the Archivist's office of the Magnus Institute, before Sam accidentally let them out

They seem to have a vested interest in protecting Gwen "Jon Sims' closest archetype in Protocol" Bouchard

The long version is under the cut because hooooo boy did it get long

I'll start with the obvious question. "[ERROR] is credited as voiced by Beth Eyre! we do hear their voice in Breaking Ground, and it doesn't sound like Jon!"

Answer 1: it would be extremely way too obvious if Jonny voiced this character, if they didn't want people to make the connection immediately

Answer 2: I doubt what [ERROR] sounds like right now is going to matter too much in the long run, if it isn't meant to, because it sounds like they're probably some kind of ghost/apparition, and their appearances are so heavily distorted audio-wise that I just. don't really trust them myself, tbh?

But it probably would be silly to forget that Beth Eyre did appear in TMA, exactly once. She voiced the lady who witnessed the attempted Flesh ritual and came to give a statement to Gertrude about it. As far as I can tell, that lady didn't meet Jon at all. I feel like it's probably premature to say this is a simple case of "reusing the VA because we like them," but I don't think it's completely out of the question

so to the matter of [ERROR] themselves, the only physical description we get of them is "manky old git," courtesy of Ink5oul. They seem like the type to think anyone over 30 is "old," so take that with a grain of salt lol

The in-scene descriptors we get of [ERROR] are as follows:

Episode 10:

The water is gently disturbed below. Then there is a thud on the hidden wooden trapdoor and the rattle of a padlock.

There is the distinct sound of a key being dragged across wood, then being blindly fumbled in a lock which finally clicks.

The trap door opens, the lock falling away and [ERROR] emerges and takes a shuddering breath..

Episode 21:

A Figure emerges, shrouded in a cloak of whispers.

The Figure continues to emerge, a nightmarish specter of an older world, slowly enveloping Ink5oul’s brash bravado.

Ink5oul reluctantly releases GWEN. She sprints away still gabbling as she flees.

The Figure does not move.

Beat. The Figure turns to Ink5oul.

The Figure breathes deeply, a strange and disconcerting sound, enveloped in pained whispers.

The Figure recedes.

Voice lines from episode 21:

"MINE"

"ALL OF THEM, MINE"

"THERE IS MORE"

"NO. NOT HERE. ELSEWHERE..."

So here's what I'm taking away from this list:

[ERROR] is at least in some way corporeal, in that they can interact with the physical world

They seem to do a lot of breathing. it is unpleasant to listen to

They appear to be followed around by whispers? I'm taking the transcripts' word on that one, because my hearing is crap and I can't hear the sound effect. But I'm including it because it might be relevant

They have either a powerful enough presence/aura, or did something visibly that we didn't hear, enough to make Ink5oul back down. Ink5oul, who three minutes ago cut off a man's arm because he thought about getting in their way. Ink5oul, who definitely was Not going to let Gwen go without a fight. Ink5oul, a powerful new avatar, backed down after barely a fight at all

"a nightmarish spectre of an older world" has terrifying connotations I am not yet ready to tackle!

So... to go through my points from earlier I guess aha:

THE TAPE RECORDERS

We've seen tape recorders pop up 3 times so far:

episode 10 in the Archivist's office

episode 15 when Alice encounters the drowning woman

episode 21 when Gwen is cornered by Ink5oul

Two of these, [ERROR] shows up directly. In episode 15, we have no [ERROR] that we can see, but we DO see someone who is very likely one of [ERROR'S] victims? after-effects? which leads into:

THE COMPELLED STATEMENTS

We've heard of 3 (4, ish) compelled statements so far:

episode 15, the drowning woman

episode 18, the woman who started speaking on the autopsy table

(arguably) episode 20, where Ink5oul gives a monologue that sounds Very Much Like a statement. However, the mechanism of how this happened is still unclear

episode 21, Gwen spontaneously starts giving a statement relatively coherently when she's been hysterical - immediately after Ink5oul's tattoo gun touched her skin, and literally three seconds before [ERROR] shows up and lays claim to her

Two of these are recorded on tape recorders, as above. One of them (Ink5oul's) is recorded on Gwen's phone.

Episode 18, according to the coroner's report, was transcribed longhand by the doctor while the victim was speaking. Presumably, they eventually loaded it into her chart, where it was picked up by Freddy. However, it feels significant to me that the initial recording of the statement was done in a non-digital way

THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE

Does this even need to be a section tbh? lol

I would like to point out some oddities from episode 10 that may or may not be relevant to [ERROR]:

Alice and RedCanary both specifically call out a weird floor carving in the atrium, that somehow survived the fire

The key to the trapdoor was at the bottom of a filing cabinet?

The LOCK on the trapdoor, which appears to have been keeping [ERROR] trapped, was on the UNDERSIDE of the trapdoor??

THE TIES TO GWEN

Please consider Gwen Bouchard for a moment.

Gwen is a young employee of the OIAR who's worked there for four-ish years. She's recently been promoted.

She's finding out very quickly that she's in over her head with this job, but doesn't feel able to ask her coworkers for help.

She's rash, and has a short temper, and has exacting standards, and doesn't think very highly of her coworkers. She's an ass, but she's not a bad person - when she realizes that something she did caused other people to suffer, she was genuinely horrified.

Her boss is deliberately obtuse and unhelpful. Her boss is deliberately sending her into dangerous situations without all the facts or even any information at all, making her go face to face with monsters with the power to seriously harm or even kill her.

All this, while she barely has any concept that the monsters she's been reading about are very real and very dangerous. She has, just moments ago, been visibly marked by a monster who's been stalking her with a stated intention to cause permanent, even fatal, injury

EDITED TO ADD: Gwen had a childhood encounter with something presumably supernatural. Something involving a door that shouldn't have been opened

It feels very, very in-character for Jon Sims, or what's left of him, or an Archivist that has any scrap of Jon Sims left in them, to see her and see her trajectory, and say "no, absolutely not." Jon Sims, who - last time we saw him - said "I'd rather kill our doomed world myself than make anyone in another hypothetical reality go through what I have."

"[She's] mine - all of them, mine." Gwen Bouchard, a young member of an office with a job she can't even begin to understand. Her coworkers: Alice Dyer, a friendly, sarcastic woman with a cheerful front and a younger brother she adores. Sam Khalid, a man far too curious for his own good, who will follow a lead into danger if it means he might get some goddamn answers. Colin Becher, a man who's starting to understand what they've been wrapped up in, and who is quickly letting it consume him. And Celia Ripley, a woman [ERROR] may or may remember or recognize from the last time they were anything approaching human

Jon, or what's left of him, or what he's become, seeing all the same parallels that the audience has been seeing since episode one, and deciding to do something about it. To be the protector he, and Tim, and Sasha, and Martin so desperately needed. Laying claim to the OIAR staff in order to prevent them from being harmed by other monsters. Helping in maybe the only way he can, as he is right now

And maybe I'm wildly off-base! Maybe I'll be proven wrong in episode 22, or episode 30, or episode 90! but the more I think about this meta the more I love it, and the more sense it makes to me

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games. 

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t. 

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home. 

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him.  He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious. 

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place. 

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head. 

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind. 

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company. 

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago. 

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.” 

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level. 

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances. 

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid. 

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it. 

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico. 

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy. 

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake. 

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk. 

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building. 

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them. 

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects. 

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound. 

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body. 

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises. 

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.” 

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip. 

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds. 

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity. 

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers. 

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own. 

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded. 

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training. 

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her. 

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand. 

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest. 

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘 

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark. 

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets. 

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp. 

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison. 

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat. 

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt. 

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things. 

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze. 

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming. 

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew. 

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.” 

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions. 

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing. 

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

 She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats. 

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[petrii-dish]

More Mira Pokémon! (starring guest Isabeau)

And I actually have my essay on why i chose each Pokémon this time. It's under the cut with some closeups. eeee

Okay! Essay time!! Pokédex entries are in red! Here I go!!

Mira's starter is her Ampharos! It spends most of the game as a Flaaffy, evolving into Ampharos when Mira beats the King (and mega-evolving when she beats him in Act 5) 

  Every single Pokédex entry for Ampharos highlights it acting "as a beacon for lost people" (Gold). This mirrors Mira's (ha) role as the Change God's 'chosen', the very existence of which serves to give hope to the people of Vaugarde that they are actually going to be saved from the King. 

Mira understands the need for a (fake) chosen, but can't really accept herself as being worthy of the role. Because of this, her Flaaffy doesn't evolve into Ampharos until she confronts and defeats the King as her role demands of her, in spite of her own feelings on it. 

Also, Dormont has sheep!! And Mareep and Flaaffy match Mira's silhouette (clouds...!) 

Eevee (Sylveon!!) is a Pokémon that I see Mira receiving when she enters the House of Change. I had a lot of ideas about what Pokémon might live in and around the House, or might be seen as symbols of Change, and Eevee is one that I think fits pretty well! (also Castform, Ditto and Vivillion! Maybe Togepi as well?) 

A lot of Sylveon's Pokédex entries balance it between being a soothing ("It sends a soothing aura from its ribbonlike feelers[…]" (X, Omega Ruby)) and empathetic (?) ("[…] this touch enables it to read its Trainer's feelings" (Ultra Moon)) Pokémon, while also being a pretty merciless and efficient attacker ("[…] its piercing moves aim straight for its opponents' weak spots." (Violet)). I think this mirrors Mira's (hehe) in-battle skill set pretty well, as well as the dichotomy (?) (big word? am I using that right?) between being both scissors and paper types.  

(Sylveon also uses it's ribbons to use piercing moves!! It's both scissors and paper! To me!) And. It has little bows on it.) 

Other Pokédex entries talk about "Sylveon vanquishing a dreadful dragon Pokémon" (Shield) "that are many times larger than itself" (Ultra Sun). And I don't know about you. But this reminds me of the King. For (Primal) Dialga reasons, but also because he's pretty dreadful tbh. 

Chingling is here because! Ding-ding! 

I don't really have many supporting Pokédex entries for Chingling. Just look at the little guy. Besides Mira liking things that go ding-ding when she walks ("Each time it hops, it makes a ringing sound[…]" (Pearl)), Chingling's rope also visually matches her own rope / belt.  

I wanted some of Mira's Pokémon to non-fully evolved. Non-fully evolved Pokémon aren’t necessarily young versions of their evolved counterparts, they're fully realised Pokémon with their own personalities and behaviours. Just because there is a capacity for change doesn't mean they need to! And well. The same applies to Mira, of course. 

Escavalier isn't here because I didn't want to draw it again (complicated...). But it's also on the team! Honestly, I added Escavalier because Mira's team so far was too cutesy and I wanted her to pack some real heat. Escavalier's her rapier! She needs a cool sword (lance)!! And no other weapon-like or wielding Pokémon fit the job description. Or had French names.  

(Escavalier's names are all a combination of escargot and cavalier! Mira's surname is literally Chevalier??) 

As a Pokémon, Escavalier isn't too notable for anything other than (being a pain to draw) how it evolved- by stealing Shelmet's hat. Originally I thought that Escavalier would start as a Karrablast that would evolve when the House was attacked by the King, which would need Mira to prepare to defeat him. But. He doesn’t have a Shelmet or an Accelgor. 

But! Escavalier is very brave! And Mira does so many brave things while unmedicated?? And, and, like Sylveon, it has an equal focus on defence and offense. ...Honestly, Escavalier is probably the weakest match for Mira on this team but I'm not going to change my mind. It's my Mira Pokémon team interpretation and I get to drive.

Ponyta's Pokédex entries all talk about how it starts out pretty weak ("Ponyta is very weak at birth. It can barely stand up.[…]" (Ruby / Sapphire)) but quickly grows stronger as it runs about- either with other Ponyta ("[…] As it races around with others of its kind, […]" (Sword)) or after its parent (read: mentor figure. read: euphrasie) ("[…] This Pokémon becomes stronger by stumbling and falling to keep up with its parent" (Ruby / Sapphire)).   

Mira's pre-game journey gives her the strength and allies she needs to confront the King, even as she compares herself to better options that don't exist. She kind of fails to see that she's become "a world-class jumper" saviour (Crystal).  

I chose the Galar Ponyta over the Kanto variant as it's a healer like Mira! ("It's small horn hides a healing power. […] any slight wound you have will be healed" (Sword)) And it's silhouette matches hers a lot better. 

And finally, Plusle! Plusle's here not only because I think Mira needs the support (PLEASE give her back her meds), but because Mira herself is the support (the heart) that glues together the party. Plusle is by design a team-player that performs better with the right allies, both through ability and move-set (I'm very sorry but no-one else has any Pokémon with the Minus ability. Big oversight tbh). And one of the very first things Mira did on her journey was try to get a helping hand with the defenders. 

I decided very early on that Mira needed to have a Pika-clone, and that this Pika-clone could not, in any circumstance, actually be Pikachu (or Pichu). Mira bears the unwelcome mantle of being the Change God's (fake) chosen, the main character, the leader (sorta?) of the saviours. She isn't comfortable fitting into the role but tries to force it anyway.  

(Every region there's a Pokémon that, if sometimes only superficially, resembles series mascot Pikachu (and often acts as an early-game replacement for Pikachu) that are unofficially dubbed Pika-clones. They're kind of made fun of a little bit, but I adore them.) 

I kind of considered trying to give Mira a Mimikyu or Morpeko (other Pika-clones tend to have more biology focused Pokédex entries rather than personality ones? Meaning most of their personality come from depictions in media, like with Dedenne. But that's just a hungry little guy)? But Plusle won out quite handily. And. Well. Some other cringe-fail losers got those two anyway. 

And that's my essay! I'm dedicating it to my 750 loops/act 2 Siffrin who I kept waking up to repeatedly check different dialogues and also the three people who said they might want to read this. Which honestly made my day?? And made me realise that it was a bit silly to be anxious about sharing this! When! The whole point is that it's for fun!!

(By the way, if you enter act 3 without ever reading the secret library book on shields the game just makes up that you did actually read it and continues as normal. And also the memory of fishing maxes out at +80 attack :/ ) 

[atlasofthestaars]

hii! this is my first time requesting ever, but I just love your writing so much that I just have to ask:

can i request general headcannons with mk1 Bi-Han and female reader? if you’re comfortable with writing nsfw, can i also ask for some of those? I dont have anything specific in mind but im just dying for you to write more for Bi-Han, i think you write him soo well.

if you can’t/don’t want to do those, its totally ok! i just had to request from my favorite mk writer. thank you soo much!! 🫶🏽

ps. I LOVE NEW ERA SO MUCHHH UGHH

notes: oops i should have done these. a LOT sooner LMAO. idk if my headcanons are gonna be unpopular or not but this is how I see the bastard (only semi affectionately) most of these don’t really apply to female reader until the NSFW tbh, but even then I’m not too descriptive? I kinda wrote these informally but at the same time, very analytical?? You’ll see HAHA these are more like my rambles than shorter hcs. I probably should have made the NSFW parts sexier sounding LMAO they’re very like, analytical.

I also can probably do more of these if you guys want?? I just kinda wrote whatever but I’m certain I could write tons more  HAHA

Btw ty for liking New Era and being so patient for your wait ! <3

SFW

Bi-Han would only be with a partner, imo, if he truly loves them. Loyalty, trust, etc. are all important to him. To be with a person for the sake of being in a relationship imo is not his style. Especially if his father wanted an arranged marriage? He would not be happy with it. He can rule by himself, thank you very much. 

When Bi-Han loves you, he loves you. He may not say it much, but he does. It is not as if he thinks saying “i love you” is stupid. No, he understands it is important, he just knows that you know already. In rare moments where he is nearly overwhelmed with affection for you, he’ll say it first. But I think it is more likely he would only say a simple “i love you too” after you say it.

I can’t imagine Bi-Han to be the type of person to fall for someone at first sight or jump into dating someone quickly. I think the only way he’d fall for someone is to be friends with them first and slowly he’d fall, then the feelings would hit him all at once.

Bi-Han finds it hard to deny you. Even when he says no, he is probably thinking of other alternatives for you. Idk! I think this man would be kind of a simp deep down if he truly found someone he loves. But not like overboard, it’d be very subtle. Which is a lot for a frosty man like him.

Bi-Han’s love language imo, is acts of service. Probably small things like making you breakfast, helping you do your hair if you have longer hair, maybe even showing you how to properly stretch if you often feel sore. Little things that add up.

Bi-Han would allow you to be in his office just to enjoy your company. He probably wouldn’t talk much, mostly just listen in those moments when he’s concentrating. Your presence alone is enough for him when he’s working.

If he’s giving gifts, I imagine he’d probably be the type of person to place it in a place you’d see it, but no one else would. He’d leave a simple note like, “thought of you”. I don’t think he’d give it in person because he’s far too stiff to make it feel romantic enough,

I don’t think dates come often. but when they do Bi-Han would do something probably quiet and with just you. He’d rather spend the precious time he has not doing his duty with just the person he adores, no one else.

Probably not at first, but after you’ve been together for a while I think he’d allow you to brush and comb his hair. It’s not that he is particularly touch adverse with his hair, I just think he’s really fussy with it.

Not a fan of PDA. He doesn’t like the looks others give him and how he can tell that they’re thinking how did he get someone to defrost him? Far too nosey for his tastes. But if you want it, he’d probably indulge you in maybe a bit of hand holding. Maybe a peck on the cheek or on the lips once in a while, but he’s generally a private person.

Bi-Han has cold hands. Nothing he can do about it. Even with his fine control of cryomancy, there’s the lingering chill that is stuck to his skin.

I’d like to imagine that he would give very soft kisses in private. A kiss on the hand, a kiss on the forehead, etc. Small moments. 

Probably has given you one accessory the same shade of blue as his uniform. It pleases him just to see the subtle way you match.

NSFW

Ok. Listen. He’s a virgin. It’s not that I think he’s a “saving myself for marriage” type of man, I just think that he would not really be attracted to people enough to want a fling or something unserious. 

He probably is very hard to arouse unless he knows he won’t be interrupted or if it is work time. He’s just very regimented like that. Still, if you were to try and tease him by a little touches or with some particularly revealing clothing, then he supposed it would be a little harder to keep his mind off of the way your body feels under his hands.

Anyways, he probably will want to take the dominant role. I mean, it’s Bi-Han. But he won’t deny you if you ask for something, at least, until he learns that teasing you works very, very well. Then you’ll probably have to learn some more patience.

I think he knows for the most part what to do, but he just doesn’t have any hands-on experience for him. He’s a visual learner, want to teach him?

I think Bi-Han would at first think he would prefer receiving than giving, then after realizing how wonderful you look when you fall apart at his touch, he would think he very much prefers giving. It gives him almost a sense of power to see it, it makes him want more.

Still, he wouldn’t deny you if you were to give him a blowjob. It is undeniable how lovely you look on your knees, sucking his cock just to please him. 

If you give him a blowjob, look up at him. It drives him wild and he will probably entangle his hands in your hair if he hasn’t already.

Bi-Han would probably take sex as seriously as training. He’s here to please you after all.

With that being said, I think he’d be probably full of vigor doing anything you wanted. For example, you’d probably feel it the next day with how hard he’d thrust. Or you’d be guaranteed at least one orgasm with him eating you out, because he is a very stubborn man and he won’t stop until he sees you unravel upon his mouth.

I don’t think he’s very vocal. Probably grunts and muffling his noises in your skin.

Back to the teasing idea, I think he would develop a liking to teasing you, edging you if you will. The moans you make, the way you tremble under his touch…it is very appealing to him. Plus, he has a sharp eye, he’d notice how it seems to make the pleasure in the end so much more than if he gave you it right away.

I think he wouldn’t notice it, but if you pull his hair it would ignite some sort of fire within him. 

I like to imagine he would want to kiss during sex here and there. Your lips just look even more lovely in those moments.

He’d probably love to cum inside of you. It’s a little fantasy of his. He wouldn’t though, if there’s a chance for a child. It’s not that he doesn’t want children, he does, he just wants to wait until things are just…right.

[ithinkabouttzu]

txt reaction to the other members flirting with you

Genre: romance, fluff, and tiny bit of angst

Warnings: Angst, A pinch off suggestive words

Description: The txt members reaction to the other members flirting with you (his s/o)

*********************************************************************

Yeonjun

- doesn’t think much abt it tbh, he knows that your his and isn’t intimidated by the others

- but when you start laughing at Gyu’s jokes a lil too much he gets a little jelly

- Gets very handsy

- arms around you, lots of kisses, jun just has to show the other boys that you’re his

- (btw he’s so hot when he gets jealous)

- Gives you that one certain look, that’s how you know he’s jealous

- Death stare to the other guys

- definitely had a conversation with Gyu about it later

Soobin

- Doesn’t really get jealous but more so upset

- Gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes 🥹

- Knows that you don’t have anything to do their flirting so he’s not mad at you

- But he does feel a little self conscious about it afterwards

- He won’t admit it but he hates when you give the other boys attention

- Like you’re HIS girlfriend not theirs

- But tries to play it off cool like he’s unbothered about it

- A little later when you guys are alone you notice he’s down and you ask him what’s wrong :( He tries to seem like it’s nothing but remember to remind him that you love ONLY him

Beomgyu

- unpopular opinion but i don’t think he’d be really jealous, like the boys are his brothers and he doesn’t think they would do something to betray him

- but he’s also Not afraid to tell the other guys off when they get too close to you

- usually doesn’t think too much about it, he knows what he’s comfortable with and what he’s not and if he feels like the guys are taking too far he’ll make them stop

- Death stare if one of them says something stupid to you or something that may have hurt your feelings

- Has his arm around your waist the WHOLE time

- Stares at you the whole time, he loves seeing your reaction and watching you get all flustered

- Just laughs it off for the most part because he knows you’re his and nobody’s changing that

- but can’t WAIT to be alone with you and have you all to himself ;)

Taehyun

- iconic Death stare #3

- I honestly feel like he wouldn’t be too comfortable with them flirting with you but wouldn’t say anything at first

- You can tell he’s jealous first by the way he’s clenching his jaw and crossing his arms

- (btw he’s like 100x hotter when he’s mad)

- You take him somewhere and privately ask him what’s wrong

- Where then he proceeds to tell you that your his and only his

- then followed out by a hot and heavy make out session

- When you both come back, he doesn’t feel as jealous about them making moves on you anymore because he knows you’re his

Huening Kai

- Doesn’t blame them tbh

- He thinks you’re perfect and would completely understand if a guy tried to flirt with you

- But that doesn’t make him feel any better about the fact that his bestfriends are making attempts to flirt with you

- Will tell them to cut it out playfully and reminds them that your his girlfriend and not theirs

- Gives you sweet smiles to make sure you’re okay with their playfulness

- You notice he starts to take their words in a little personally so you go over to him and give him a big kiss on the cheek

- “Thank you boys, but i’m already taken to this handsome guy right here” (he blushes so hard when you say that)

- Later gives you sweet hugs and kisses and make sure to tell him how much you love him!

[the-modern-typewriter]

helloo just wanted to know your thoughts on the recent tik tok commentary on “booktok” about how literature is being “ruined because of spicy books” and authors who cater to tropes I definitely see both sides!

Caveat: I don't have tiktok. I don't spend a lot of time on bookstagram either. So while I'm vaguely aware of the discourse, assume I spend most of my time blissfully unaware of everything, under my rock, writing my own little things.

Spicy books:

As with everything, there is nuance to be had. I don't think there is anything wrong with spicy books. There is clearly an audience for them and it's great to have books that recognise this desire! Western society can be weirdly puritan about sex and anything that challenges that get points from me. I've enjoyed the spicy scenes myself when they happen to miraculously meet the very specific vibes I personally like.

However, I also don't think every book needs to or should be pressured to be spicy and I personally get annoyed when I feel like spice replaces adequate plot or character development (which is something I've come across a few times in the last few years). I don't say this in a 'every sex scene must only be there to develop plot/character' way! I say this in a, oh my god, why has the plot stopped for sex in every chapter instead way. In a 'you guys used to have interesting conversations! why are you doing this to me!?' way.

But, you know. I'm not typically the target audience for sex scenes. So I'd just not read another book by an author who did that and let other people enjoy it, if that's what they're looking for. I still feel that there are still plenty of other books in the world I can read.

Tropes:

Tropes have and always will be a tool in writing. It's not new that writers are using them, but I think it's just a trend at the moment to be particularly upfront about them (especially in the romance genre tbh). Specifically, I think this is a marketing trend not a writing trend.

(Does trad publishing like books that are easy to market? Obviously. It's a business.)

I don't inherently mind this, because book marketing is really hard and realistically a lot of people don't stop to engage with original content or long descriptions about original content. Especially not on social media. Tropes are an excellent shorthand for conveying information/vibes, and then people can get more information and decide for themselves if they want to engage with the story.

(In a way, to me this is like when people add 'it's queer!' when they make me a recommendation. Does it make me more likely to go and look at the thing? Yes. Is it the deciding factor on if I actually read/watch/like it. Nope. It's just a quick flag for me to consider it and make my own decision.)

Maybe there are people who are specifically just writing tropes without much more to it...but I haven't really seen it in the books I personally read. At least not any more than the usual.

Some great books I've read this year so far:

The Luminous Dead By Caitlin Starling

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Rolling in the Deep by Mira Grant

(They are all horror to some degree...I've been on a kick.)

[midmaysunray]

Hello there, it’s me Momo🩷

(Also, this is a shit posting blog, might wanna check out @shunrehihosumedha )

Here’s a little description of things I love and envy

I’m from the Indian subcontinent.

Spent my entire childhood between mountains and valleys. For a change shifted to Delhi which I regret tremendously.

I love farming, gardening, stitching clothes, crocheting, writing poems and maintaining a journal.

I enjoy long walks and bicycle rides.

I prefer going to a bookstore or a restaurant all by myself. I love self-dates.

I want to settle someday at an unknown meadow with mountains and lakes at a cottage core house, with big windows and minimalistic furniture with a wooden chimney, a library with some cats and the man I love.

I’m a student, fortunately academically gifted/blessed.

I did my undergrad from Indraprastha college for women under the university of Delhi in the discipline of geography Hons. Currently pursuing my masters from Jamia Millia Islamia.

I love movies; and my favourite genre is dystopian reality. So far I have watched 750+ movies which include almost every linguistic diversity as I strongly believe in the adherence of, “you can’t find gold unless you dig the dirt.”

I love reading books, like a lot. I can speak 5 different languages and out of them, 3 languages are engraved within my system. Starting from Greek Literature Iliad by Homer to metaphysics by aristotle; reading short stories of Rabindranath Tagore in Bengali as well as reciting Gazals of Gulzar in Hindi itself, I believe I have defined base in my own culture as well as to others. Again, when it comes to dystopian, I envy reading The Hunger Games and The Maze Runners. Do Androids dream of electric sheep? Comes under my top 5 dystopian reads; as this book was later adopted into a world class movie franchise called The Blade Runner. I lean towards Harry Potter more than The Lord of the Rings. I have read A song of ice and fire which people are so batshit crazy about and famously known as the “Game of thrones.” I didn’t watch a single episode but I know more than any fan I believe.

If you intervene and ask, then yeah you can think of me as a “nerd” hehehe because my preference and taste of things leans towards being more of geek tbh🩷🩷

I also enjoy watching animated series/anime and sit coms. I’m a sucker for The Big Bang Theory and Young Sheldon and will rewatch them for an eternity if asked. My favourite anime is Gintama but the list is peculiar and long as I have been watching anime/reading manga since I was 9 years old. My first anime was Dragon Ball z and Pokémon. I also watched Doraemon and Shinchan series/movies. The list goes on when it comes to entertainment but mine is more restricted than common which people watch out of peer pressure. Below are some examples for understanding my taste and likings.

My favourite dystopian movies are (Top 20)

1. Shutter Island.

2. Interstellar

3. The Dark knight

4. The Dark knight Rises

5. Captain America: the winter soldier

6. Rouge one: a star war’s story

7. Tron legacy

8. Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban

9. The Hobbit: the desolation of Smaug

10. Star Trek Enterprise

11. Star Wars: the empire strikes back

12. Blade runner

13. Blade runner 2049

14. Dune

15. V for vendetta

16. Maze runner

17. The Hunger Games

18. Oblivion

19. The Truman show

20. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

Top 15 Anime

1. Gintama

2. Neon Genesis Evangelion

3. Berserk

4. Mob psycho

5. Steins Gate

6. Violet evergarden

7. Monster

8. Parasyte

9. Heavenly delusion

10. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

11. Full Metal Alchemist

12, That time when I got reincarnated as a slime

13. Campfire cooking in another world with my absurd cooking skills

14. Barakamon

15. Bunny Drop

Top 10 Anime Movies

1. Princess Mononoke by Studio Ghibli

2. Up from the poppy hill by Studio Ghibli

3. My neighbor Totoro by Studio Ghibli

4. The End of Evangelion by Hideaki Anno

5. Spirited Away by Studio Ghibli

6. Perfect blue by Satosi Kon

7. Akira by Katsuhiro Otomo

8. Ghost in the Shell by Mamoru Oshii

9. Violet evergarden: the movie by Taichi Ishidate

10. Doraemon: Nobita’s new dinosaur by Kazuaki Imai, Toshihisa Yokoshima, in collaboration with Kyoto animation studio Wasabi Mizuta, Megumi Ohara, Shihoko Hagino.

I know it may seem boring and I usually don’t find people with such diversity, but it would be good to be a part of this community. I envy people who respects art and literature of every culture and not demeaning them.

[floralcyanide]

ɪғ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ — ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴊᴏʜɴ “ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ” ᴇɢᴀɴ

john “bucky” egan x fem!reader

Lunch with Dr. Egan leads to him showing you old photographs at his home, which opens a door to a new side of your advisor and your relationship with him.

(Headcanons: One | Two)

warnings: age gap (reader is 23-25, Bucky is in his 40s), descriptions of war, the insinuation of ptsd, smoking, drinking, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

author’s note: here is the first part (maybe) to my Professor Bucky au!! if ya'll want more just let me know, I'm indecisive about it tbh. I probably won't write smut for this series though. feedback is appreciated!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | (If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Wanna Be Right - Barbara Mandrell

(when it’s from Bucky’s point of view, I will use Bucky rather than Dr. Egan.)

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re giddy, like it’s the first day of class all over again, except it’s a different type of nervousness. It’s not like you’re going on a date or anything, but you’re seeing your advisor outside of campus. It’s a little nerve-wracking. Especially because he’s so interesting and attractive and… are you crushing on Dr. Egan? Absolutely, positively not! He’s your superior and advisor, and you will never cross that line. Even if you find him fascinating in numerous ways. 

The small restaurant that Dr. Egan suggested is bustling with people when you arrive. You sit patiently in the booth as you wait for your superior to show. When he finally approaches, he apologizes profusely for being late.

“It’s okay, Dr. Egan. You’re a busy man.”

This launches the two of you into a conversation about your extracurricular activities and life outside of work and school. Dr. Egan wants to know more about your work at the museum. You tell him all about how it started and where you see it going. He listens intently the entire time, asking questions throughout the conversation. You eventually order your meals and continue discussing the museum until the topic strays.

“I have a lot of photos of us from where we were stationed,” Dr. Egan mentions around a sip of water, “I think I have some of your father, actually.”

You sit up at that, “Really?”

“Quite a few of me too. Would you want to see them?” Dr. Egan chuckles at your sudden interest.

“Of course I would,” you say with a grin, “When and where?”

“If you’re okay with it, I don’t live too far from here. I have a lot of stuff you can look at if you’d like.”

After lunch concludes, you and Dr. Egan head over to his quaint home near downtown- a mere walk from the restaurant. The living room has a large array of books and records on a bookcase the size of a wall, some paperwork is strewn on the couch and on the dining room table. Dr. Egan profusely apologizes for the mess.

“I can’t imagine how many assignments you have to grade,” you say, taking in the various novels and history books on the bookcase, “I don’t mind the mess.”

“All the stuff is in the extra room,” Dr. Egan says, motioning to the hallway with a smile.

He appreciates your love for literature and history and your patience with his lived-in home. Bucky would never ask if you had a partner as it isn’t professional or his business, but he’d be surprised if you’re single. If he were your age all over again- he would stop his train of thought there before it travels any further. You giddily follow him into his guest room, where there are shelves full of things, including photographs. 

“Here’s one of just your father,” Dr. Egan says, holding the photo over his shoulder to you as he scuffles through other pictures.

You carefully take the photograph, look over it, and take in your father in his youth. He’s never shown you many photos of him from the war; usually, they’re of him with other soldiers or aren’t of the best quality. But this photo is up close, and your father is alone.

“You can have it if you want,” Dr. Egan says as you stand next to him, still eyeing the picture.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I’m certain. I collected most of the photos and stuff the others didn’t want. If I can pass them down, I will.”

You smile at Dr. Egan, who returns it as he looks back down at the table, “This one is me.”

You grab a hold of the left side of the photograph, and Dr. Egan lets you take it from his grasp to look closer, “This Is you?”

“Sure is,” he says.

Dr. Egan was beyond handsome- still is, of course. His curls were darker, and his skin less freckled. He had a little more light in his eyes. You happen to glance up and see a photo of him where he appears much different. Dr. Egan has quite a bit of facial hair and looks shell-shocked. He quickly moved the photo, which looked like a POW card, under some others. You glance over at him, and he gives you an uneasy look before turning his attention to a photo of another young man.

“This is my good friend, Gale,” Dr. Egan clears his throat, “he was with your father and me a lot through training and overseas.”

Sensing a change in the older man’s demeanor, you change the subject, “We don’t have to go through your things if it brings back sore memories.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’d rather tell the stories over and over than forget.”

You hesitantly reach for the area where he shoved the POW card out of sight, sliding it out from under some other pictures.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know more about this,” you hold up the photo, giving Dr. Egan an earnest look.

“You’ll have to get a few drinks in me first,” he half-jokes.

You raise an eyebrow with a smirk, “That’s all it takes, Dr. Egan?”

The layered comment doesn’t go past him as he takes a step closer to you, your chests almost touching, “Just know my life can get a little dark.”

You stare up at him, your gaze careful, “I can handle it.”

The tension is palpable but Dr. Egan breaks it by taking a step back,  “I hope you like whiskey ‘cause it’s all I’ve got.”

You follow him to the living room, where he pours two glasses of whiskey, handing one to you as you take a seat on the couch. Dr. Egan sits on the side of the couch that’s by the record player, where he puts on something to play quietly as you talk.

“I was shot down back in forty-four and landed in Germany,” Dr. Egan pulls out a cigar from his pocket before clipping it and lighting it, “You don’t mind, right?”

You shake your head and let him continue his story.

“Managed to hide for a day before I was found. It was a rough few days of being captured. I thought I was going to die for sure until I made a run for it when I had the chance.”

You watch Dr. Egan carefully, his eyebrows furrowed as he replayed the memories in his head. He puffs the cigar before sighing, “Then I got captured for real by the Nazis, and they interrogated me. Didn’t say a word.”

“I bet that was terrifying,” you frown.

“Yeah,” Dr. Egan nods, his face breaking out into a solemn smile, “Before I got shot down, Gale had been declared MIA. I was worried he had gotten into trouble, but Gale is Gale, he always got himself out of any trouble he got into. Anyway, when I got to the POW camp, I found him there. So we stuck together.”

“That’s good that you had someone you knew there,” you say.

“Knew a few men there, actually. Some didn’t make it out.”

You put a hand on Dr. Egan’s knee, the whiskey making you a little brave, “You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to, Professor.”

Dr. Egan glances down at your hand before moving his eyes back to yours, “Like I said, I’d rather remember than forget.”

Your hand doesn’t leave his knee as he continues his story, describing the work he had to do over the months he was at the camp. Dr. Egan finally gets to when he escapes, and they end up at another POW camp, where the Nazis fail. 

“I ran around like a madman looking for a flag,” Dr. Egan chuckles, shaking his head, “Did finally find one. Scrambled up to the pole and put up that American flag, and for the first time since the war started, I felt safe.”

“Do you still feel that way? Safe?” you ask.

“I don’t think there’ll be another war anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Egan lets his cigar go out.

“No, I mean, do you feel safe in general? My father still has nightmares about it all. He refuses to get help,” you say sadly.

“There are times I’ll wake up sweating without remembering what I dreamt about, and there’s no doubt it’s about the war,” Dr. Egan polishes off his second glass of whiskey, “But I’m in a good place. I do what I love, and I get to teach brilliant minds like you.”

“That’s great. What more could you want?” 

Dr. Egan snorts at that, waving his hand dismissively, “Nothing that I could discuss without embarrassment.”

“We tell each other just about everything, Dr. Egan,” you say, leaning in a tad closer, “You can trust me.”

Dr. Egan lets his eyes flutter to your lips for only a second before boring his eyes into yours, “But can you trust me?”

“I do. I do trust you,” you say softly, taking in the odd look on your superior’s face.

“I’m just alone whenever I’m not in class or on campus. And it gets to me sometimes,” Dr. Egan shrugs, “No big deal.”

“Many of us wish for more in the romance department, Dr. There’s no embarrassment there.”

Your palm burns through Bucky’s slacks, and he feels fidgety when making contact. It had been a while since anyone had laid a hand on him in any way. It didn’t help that you made him nervous. You’re quite the looker and intelligent beyond your means. You’re compassionate about everything and seem to notice Bucky more than everyone else. Maybe it’s because you knew there was something about him the day you met him that was different. And now that you know what it is, you don’t treat him any differently. 

“It’s just that not everyone wants to be with someone with a past like mine or deal with the current consequences of that past, you know?” 

Your face contorts into one of sadness, “Oh, that’s not true, Dr. Egan.”

“You can call me John, you know,” Dr. Egan says abruptly.

“There’s a lot of people who wouldn’t mind being with someone with a rough past, John.  A lot of us have things we carry that we aren’t proud of,” you say.

“Would you mind?” 

“Mind what?”

“A rough past.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t mind it.”

You suddenly notice how close the two of you have become in proximity, and you struggle to snap out of the haze filling the room. Bucky knows better, but he still lets his hand find your hip. His touch is blazing hot, and you nearly gasp at the sensation. He gently guides you onto his lap, where you perch yourself without much thought. Bucky’s other hand finds itself on your other hip, his fingers squeezing deftly into the fabric of your skirt. He stares up at you without a word, the room now quiet as the record had long since stopped playing. 

“What else would you not mind?” Dr. Egan asks you, his gaze taking in your form.

You exhale shakily and let a laugh escape your lips, “Not much.”

Dr. Egan lets his right hand slide up your body until he reaches your neck, his thumb lightly caressing your pulse, “That doesn’t help me any, doll.”

You know it’s wrong, but it feels so right. It feels so perfect to be the center of Dr. Egan’s attention and to be so close to him physically. You’re both adults and are capable of making decisions, even if they have consequences. You decide to end Dr. Egan’s teasing and you move your hands from where they were on his shoulders to his cheeks. Pulling him to you, you meet halfway to press your lips to his. Something in that moment feels complete, like the stars are aligned and the world is standing still. Dr. Egan’s hand grasps the back of your neck as he kisses back, throwing all caution to the wind. 

You feel yourself getting too warm, so you pull away from the embrace with a little reluctance. Dr. Egan follows your lips before opening his eyes.

“Why’d you stop?”

“It has been a while for you, hmm? Take a lady to dinner first, John,” you fix a piece of hair behind his ear, chuckling at his expression.

“Dinner it is, then.”