#(SHADOW.) “YOU HAVE TO LEARN. YOU DON’T GET A THIRD CHANCE.”

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Six

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: 15k

Chapter Warnings: believe it or not there's fluff in here. very very cute scenes I have to say. but obviously encompassed by angst. a fluff sandwich with angsty bread if you will. and the butter is nico's continuous pining. luke being the ultimate girls girl, wise beyond his years god bless him, the rest of the boys being soft, Nico's family being endearing, and then here we go!!! mentions of vomiting and food aversion, mentions of pregnancy & early pregnancy symptoms, I want to say there's mentions of drowning I remember thinking of the imagery and I can't remember how detailed I went with it sorry! it isn't actual drowning just like a metaphor of sorts. mentions of the birth control patch if you've ever had it you KNOW that needs a full trigger warning whoever came up with that deserves jail it's hell it's horror!! and mentions of poor parental relationships.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Five)

A/N: potentially fun fact the last scene in this chapter is maybe the second thing I ever wrote for this fic!! like as a concept/idea it was one of the earliest scenes in my head and it's one of my faves!! I've been dying to get to this part to flesh it out and figure out how to build to it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!! writing for families of real people is such an odd concept but I really like the differences in their parents lmao it's fun to write and compare the dynamics obviously it goes without saying I do not know these people lmao

I know the last chapter broke a couple hearts so I'll leave you guys to crack on! as always, never proofread, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and opinions!!! all the love in my heart to anyone who messaged me this last week on anon or not or private or whatever it may be I appreciate you so much yous have been so so kind to me and it means the world 💖

Nico

If anyone were to ever ask Nico what his favourite trait of Poppy’s is, he knows for a fact he would not be able to narrow it down. She’s a culmination of all things good, has been from the day he met her, and even the things he shouldn’t like about her, he loves.

He shouldn’t like that she’s sarcastic, quick-witted - scarily so - and sometimes says things before she has the chance to properly think about them or any problems they may cause her. He remembers his first couple of years in Jersey, when he was one of the more junior players on the team, still considered new to the country and the culture, and a lot of people had underestimated how familiar he was speaking English despite his years playing in Canada and growing up learning multiple languages. They would often default to explaining things like he wouldn’t understand, like common terms or jokes told amongst a group - and he, being too polite to correct them, had always ended up feeling like an idiot for it. 

There had been one instance prepping for a media day, where he had only met Poppy once a week or so before, and she had been prepping him to be on camera, clipping his mic pack and checking the settings. 

One of the other media staff, a guy called Liam who was in his second year where Poppy was in her first and had been the one she had to initially shadow, had cracked some misogynistic joke to her about how she was messing around with controls she didn’t understand just to be able to stand closer to Nico, as if he wasn’t right there or couldn’t hear him - and then when he had seen Nico’s furrowed brow and downturned lips, had assumed he didn’t understand the joke because he hadn’t laughed.

“It’s because she thinks you’re hot!” The guy had obnoxiously enunciated every word, capturing the attention of some of the more senior assistants in the room who had rolled their eyes just as hard as Nico had.

“He’s from Europe, Liam, not Jupiter. You don’t have to speak to him like he’s some alien.” Poppy had shook her head, caring so little about the fact that Liam had seniority over her, fitting the pack into Nico’s back pocket without him even feeling it, “He understands your slimy little jokes, he just doesn’t find you funny. Nobody does.”

Nico shouldn’t have liked her speaking on his behalf as much as he did, coming to his defence with her sharp tongue and cold glare, but no one had ever picked up on how uncomfortable that kind of thing made him before. The stupid jokes and the belittling tone Liam had used toward him. Poppy saw through both.

And all of her good is even better.

Poppy is positive. He has never seen her leave a room without having caused at least one smile or laugh. She’s someone he’s seen most of the guys perk up around, seek her out for help or even mundane conversation just to lighten the load, and he knows he’ll never be able to keep track of all the times he’s gone to her for a pick me up over the years.

She’s generous. Generous with her time when it comes to her friends, always making sure to maintain plans even when she’s at her busiest. When it comes to her work, staying late to help out a colleague or finish a project so it isn’t left to the last minute. With her knowledge and experience, always there for new members of staff or additions to the team to show them all her favourite spots in the area and get them up to speed with their role.

She is patient - waits around for him when he gets stuck doing media, or held behind to see the physio, and she never complains. She’ll never watch an episode of a show they start together without him, despite the fact his schedule doesn’t often allow for him to stay up late catching up, and she doesn’t moan when she gets spoiled if it’s something that comes out weekly and ends up being a hot topic in the office, doesn’t even spoil it for him out of spite. She even pauses the tv as soon as she notices he’s fallen asleep, and she’ll busy herself doing something else until she feels like he’s rested enough to drive home. 

And, above all, she’s forgiving. If someone were to push for an answer, and they were to have done so before this whole mess happened, he probably would have said that was his favourite thing. It’s like her superpower - to be able to understand things from a different perspective without judgement or a major confrontation. It’s like her default process is to give people grace and make things easy, even if they aren’t entirely deserving of that way out.

She had done so with Nico, that night up on the roof. He hadn’t deserved her leniency, not entirely. He had expected he would have to grovel and beg, and he had been more than willing to do so, but she had wanted to avoid further heartache for the both of them, and had decided to move on. 

And sure, she hadn’t technically forgiven him at that point for the way he had treated her, not properly, but she had put him on the path to redemption, and had made it clear what was expected to make it all the way there.

She’d gone easy on him, in spite of how much he had hurt her. She’d been patient with his reasoning, generous with her time, and had done so with an affectionate glint in her eyes that even now makes his heart warm to think about.

It’s the same glint she’d had when she’d come out of that elevator and had seen him by her door. He’d watched her take him in, eyes cast over him in a concerned assessment, and he knew then that no matter what he said, no matter how he explained what had led him to leave her that morning without a word, she would have forgiven him.

She would have found some way to rationalise what he had done, and put how it made her feel to the side in the name of moving on.

And he had seen his life flash before his eyes. 

Nights of coming home to her, muscles weak, brain fogged, and she’d give him that same look and accept what little he had to offer her. She’d be patient, she’d be forgiving. She wouldn’t get mad that he didn’t have time to take her on dates or trips, wouldn’t bite back when he got snappy after a couple of successive losses and let his frustrations come between them, would resign herself to those little parts of him she’d get to herself in the summer, when he wasn’t training or travelling or trying to fit everyone else in, and would swallow down the longing for something more because she loved him. 

And he couldn’t subject her to that, no matter how much she tried to fight him on it, or tried to call him out. 

No matter how much he wanted to be better for her, how much he wanted her to change his mind, the one quality he loved so much was going to be their demise, and so he had relied on it to cling on to the one thing he can give her.

Friendship.

Even if she won’t accept it for a while. Even if she wants to tell him to leave, and to ignore his texts, and his calls, and his efforts to bump into her at work, she has to forgive him. It’s who she is. 

She’ll forgive him and they can be friends.

Eventually.

And so with the weight of her bracelet in his pocket the whole walk home that night, Nico had decided that he could take a leaf out of Poppy’s book. 

He could be patient while she came to terms with what he had done. He could be generous with the space she needed. He could be positive and push down the bubbling doubt that she’ll forgive him at all.

—

Space happens to be the one thing Nico struggles with the most when it comes to Poppy. Especially conceptualised in the way that it has become - because he can’t physically give her space, they work in the same building. They share the same friends, they end up in the same rooms, and his resolve is as weak as ever where she is concerned, especially when she’s so close, so his generosity ends up being the trait that wains first.

He will give it to himself, he has been trying. He hasn’t been texting her as much as he wants to, understanding that bombarding her with begging and pleading is not only pathetic, but could also be considered harassment. And that will do him no favours in trying to earn back her favour.

But the other night he had been up on the roof after a long day, the air cold but the evening nice, and as he looked out across the Hudson, he had remembered how Poppy had once said her favourite time of the day, and her favourite thing about where she lives, was getting to see the sunset. 

On the early winter evenings, when she’d not long gotten home from work, she liked looking out her window and basking in what she had called cotton candy skies. Swirls of pinks and greyish purples behind the rows of skyscrapers on the other side of the river, all of which reflected the lowering sun in a glimmering, golden glow. He had taken a picture and sent it straight over with the thought that she might be missing it, and he just wanted to let her know. 

Even avoiding him, even wanting space, he was hoping she would at least appreciate that.

The sentiment attached to the picture had read, Just in case you don’t catch this yourself. And as he periodically checked his phone for the rest of the night, he had realised she had probably turned her read receipts off.

At least she hadn’t blocked him.

Nico had, however, started to get creative when it came to work.

Unable to stifle the need to check up on her, or to make sure something happened to brighten her day, he had taken to recruiting the rest of the guys to help.

He should have known how easy it would be, his first enlistment being Jack, who he knew would visit Poppy often, anyway. Only, now he did so with a drink in hand. Peach iced tea if his trip to her office was anytime after lunch, and a hot chai with oat milk if it was before. Nico had initially suggested snacks, but Jack had ended up eating them, himself, which turned out to be useful when it came to bribing him for information.

According to Jack, she was doing okay. Cracking jokes, rolling her eyes at the stupid nicknames he would come up with, and overall she seemed like her normal self. No signs of insurmountable heartache - not Jack’s words, but his own deduction.

He had been surprised at the lack of questions from him, but Jack knows when not to push something, so maybe he had decided to go easy on Nico for now.

Timo had been making sure she was breaking for lunch, checking in every few days so it wasn’t obvious.

John and Bass had taken to calling dumb jokes out to her every time they saw her in the halls, just to make her crack.

Curtis and Dougie had signed themselves up for the mentoring sessions she had been chasing them for since the season had started.

She had been fine with everyone - she smiled, she laughed, she joked, she engaged in conversation - and it was like nothing had happened.

Only, when Nico had felt brave enough to attempt even just eye contact, she wouldn’t even look at him.

No matter how many of the guys reported back that she was doing fine, he could see it every time he looked at her. 

He could see it even when he wasn’t looking at her - that teary, pleading frown she had given him as she had tried to take his hand, the resigned acceptance he had seen when she’d monotonously told him that they had made a mistake, assuming she was mirroring his own sentiments, the tremble in her lip as she had waited for him to leave with her head down at the door.

He thinks about it more often than is healthy, in situations where his focus should really be elsewhere.

Like in the gym, arms shaking as he attempts to lift more than he has in a while, and Jonas who is spotting him has to intervene before he ends up getting crushed.

Like in training, adrenaline pumping as his mind races all over the place, weaving around the defensemen and making sloppy attempts to swipe the puck until he finds himself on the weaker side of a nasty check by Luke that he can’t even argue was unwarranted.

Or in important debriefs in the small team auditorium, where one of their associate coaches, Travis, is going over team strategy before they travel to play the Canes, and he really should be absorbing all the information for such a crucial game - the potential to build on their current 2 game winning streak theirs for the taking - but all he can think about is the looming distance between him and Poppy.

They’re going down to Tampa after, and then head straight into the All Stars break. He isn’t going to see her for almost 2 weeks. Isn’t going to be able to send anyone to check up on her - not without rousing suspicion at least.

He thinks having Bratter knock on her door at home might ring alarm bells.

The distracted glance Nico casts towards the creaking door of the auditorium as it opens is instinctual and fleeting, but all his senses go into high alert when he sees who comes through it. 

The guys have been right, for the most part.

She does look okay.

She looks put together - probably more than he has looked the last two weeks without her, having barely shaved and punishing himself with a borderline dangerous lack of rest - her smart casual attire is neat and co-ordinated, a buttoned up red cardigan and long, dark trousers, her hair up in a ponytail that sways with her movement, and the only indicator that she has any sort of discomfort is the slight purse of her lips where he can tell she’s chewing at the corner.

Travis has become background noise - whatever he’s saying Nico is sure he can catch up on another time - and all he can focus on is the way she watches the coach with genuine interest.

Poppy is the kind of person that gives anyone the time of day - makes them feel like whatever it is they’re saying is the most important thing in the world, and he yearns for a day where her attentions are directed his way again. 

“And Poppy is here from the Youth Foundation,” Her name is one way to get his focus back, Nico’s eyes having not left her figure since she snuck in, leaning beside the door with a binder in hand. He follows as she descends the few stairs to the bottom and moves beside Travis, holding the binder to her chest as she smiles to the rest of the guys. “They have a favour to ask of anyone with some free time that you’re willing to give in your week off, she’s more likely to convince any of you than I am so I’ll just hand straight over.”

“Thank you, Mr Green,” she flicks the binder open, and Nico finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of her looking up and accidentally meeting his eyes, even for a second. “I know you guys are well overdue some time off, and we’d never usually ask so close to the fact, but we have a clinic out in Garfield on the 29th, we’ve donated a bunch of equipment and have some money to donate for the programme they have, and we were supposed to have Patrik Elias out to present it to the kids up there but he’s been held back in Czechia and won’t make it.”

Nico fights the urge to do something stupid like shoot up and volunteer straight away - if not for the fact that he’s supposed to be giving her space and shouldn’t force himself into her good graces, then for the fact his parents will be back in town by then, and he has plans throughout the week with them. Him looking desperate is the least of his concerns.

“If any of you are gonna be around, it would just be for the afternoon, a couple pictures and maybe some skating with the kids. There’s also one of those huge fancy cheques if you’re into showboating,” she tries to sell it, and earns a few affectionate snickers, but Nico knows these guys - while they’re generous people, and he loves them all, and knows they all love her, they’re exhausted, and have been waiting too long for a week of reprieve. 

He kicks at the shin of whoever happens to be sat closest to him. Holtzy. Perfect. He knows he was planning to stay in Jersey. It earns him a glare, but it captures his attention enough so that Nico can level him with a stern look back. 

“If anyone wants to do it, just swing by my office-,”

“I’ll do it,” Alex raises his hand after rolling his eyes and acquiescing to his captain, faking a smile Poppy’s way.

“Oh,” she doesn’t mask the surprise on her face, her lips parting in shock and eyes rounding in disbelief. She looks to Travis who just gives an approving nod in response. 

And, only because he snickers in amusement, Nico kicks Dawson, too. He hasn’t sent him Poppy’s way yet, he’s overdue his turn, and it’s his own fault for laughing at Holtzy’s misfortune. 

“Me too,” Dawson sighs, raising his hand as well and kicking back at Alex when he laughs in turn at him. 

“That was easier than I thought, thank you guys, the kids will be over the moon with the two of you!”

Nico wishes he was the recipient of the smile she gives the both of them. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen her wear in recent weeks, and he can see the light reflect in sparkles in her eyes from all the way across the room. 

That should hold him off for a bit - that little bit of warmth she gives. And sure, it isn’t directed his way, but he can settle with the fact that he’s technically the cause of it. Maybe when he’s down in Raleigh or Tampa he’ll see that smile instead of the other look etched into his recent memory.

“That’s all I’ve got, I’ll leave you guys to your meeting, thanks again!”

He watches her the whole way out, until the door swings closed behind her retreating figure, and his mind races with a surge of misplaced adrenaline for the rest of the debrief.

That’s most of the guys checked off his list, now.

Dawson and Alex are going to help her out with the hockey clinic, John and Nate have been making their way through the worlds worst dad jokes for the past two weeks to relay back to her, Jack is on drink duties, Timo on lunch, Curtis and Brendan are hopefully slowly thawing the ice with cute pictures of their kids. Jonas, Dougie, Haula, Dawsy, Pally - majority of the team have been recruited on his mission to keep her spirits up. Those who haven’t yet had a task are more than willing to play along.

All except one.

His attention drifts over to a mop of curly hair a few rows down, slumped in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, and though he can’t see his face from where he’s sat, Nico imagines it bears the same angered frown it had when he’d checked him on the ice, earlier. 

Luke is pissed, even as distracted as Nico has been lately, that much is obvious, and he needs to get him on side if he has a chance of ever fixing things with Poppy.

He had underestimated their relationship, when he’d given it some thought, before. When they had been talking about Poppy that one time on the flight back from the Capitals game, and Luke had suggested she had deeper feelings than Nico had ever previously considered.

He had assumed because he’s never seen them together much, that they weren’t as close as Poppy and Jack seem to be, but he knows now he was wrong. 

Luke can be reserved to most, cast in the ever present shadow of his older brothers and held to unfair standards, but he is quietly observant, Nico has noticed, and he clearly sees more of Poppy than he lets on.

He knows Luke is protective over her, that he cares more than he’ll probably ever say.

He hadn’t overshared something she wouldn’t have been comfortable with when they’d had that initial conversation about him and Poppy pretending not to be into each other. He had told Nico to talk to her, had called him out on suppressing his feelings for her and pushed him to take action.

And when he had encountered Nico with Talia in the elevator back in their apartment building, he had been disappointed. 

Jack had been awkward, and evasive, but Luke had a clenched jaw and a purposely avoidant gaze. 

He thinks he gets it.

Luke had encouraged Nico to pursue Poppy, and in his pursuit, Nico had ended up hurting her.

As much as he definitely blames his captain, Luke also blames himself, and Nico of all people knows how frustrating that can be. 

When Travis calls time on the meeting, and the group disperse, Nico rushes down the steps as the boys flood out of the room and catches up to Luke with hastened steps.

“I need to talk to you,” Nico falls in line beside him, a hand clapped authoritatively on his upper back to guide him off his path and toward the locker rooms.

“Can it wait? I’m hungry,” Luke huffs, trying to resist the rerouting but falling victim to one of Nico’s infamous glares.

“Don’t make me pull rank,” he sighs as he yanks the heavy door open, his free hand gesturing for him to enter while the one on his back gives a light shove, “In.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the check earlier, it was a dick move, I didn’t mean it,” Luke starts as Nico follows him into the otherwise empty room, closing the door behind him and gesturing for Luke to take a seat.

“Come on, Luke, I’m not an idiot,” Nico scoffs, “You’re pissed at me. You have been since you saw me with Talia back in our building, but you’ve got the wrong idea,”

“Your personal life is none of my business,” Luke says like it’s something he’s been taught, something he’s rehearsed, and there isn’t a doubt in Nico’s mind that he and Poppy have been the topic of conversation in the Hughes household since the day he had run into them, maybe even before. Jack has been avoiding the topic like he’d never seen it happen, giving Nico a breather where he had initially thought he would call him out - but it’s becoming increasingly clear that Luke is the actual confrontational one of the two of them.

“If you have something to say to me, I’d rather you just come out with it than check me in a practice game, Hughes.” Nico sighs, leaning against the door to block Luke’s path out and staring him down until he relents. He has never thought he would be thankful for someone checking him before, especially not in a practice game, but the minor hit has given him the perfect opportunity to clear the air.

“Fine. I don’t like how you treated Poppy,” he says, plainly, “She’s supposed to be your friend, you don’t do that to someone you care about.”

“Carry on.” Nico thinks a part of him is urging Luke to argue because Poppy won’t, and he needs to have someone he can vent to - even if it’s someone who won’t side with him. He probably prefers it that way, ever the glutton for punishment.

“If you didn’t like her the same way, you shouldn’t have led her on, she deserves better than that.”

“I agree.”

“And she-,” his eyes narrow, “You agree?”

“I didn’t break things off because I don’t like her the same way, I did it because I do,”

“I hope you understand how stupid that sounds.” Luke rolls his eyes as he throws himself into his cubby, running a hand through his curls in frustration.

“I know it might not make sense, but I’m trying to do what’s right. She deserves someone who can give her one hundred percent of themselves, who isn’t away all the time and isn’t constantly stressed out of their mind or too tired to function.” He finds himself relaying Talia’s exact sentiments, and the memory of that particular conversation makes his stomach churn. 

“I care about her too much to end up being the guy who can’t make her happy. I know you of all people understand that to some extent, Luke.” It’s one of the few flaws of making it to the elite level of their sport - the lack of balance between their career and their personal entanglements. They’ve both spent their lives wanting nothing but to win and succeed, and it’s always going to be difficult to come to terms with, but the cold, hard truth is that they can’t have everything without paying the price for it. Something will have to give, and it would be an injustice for that something to be Poppy. “It wouldn’t be fair to her to start something that I can’t put my all into. So, I agree, she deserves better.”

“You know what else she deserves, Nico?” Luke stands from his point on the bench, the inch between them seeming more than it really is when he’s dishing out home truths like punches to the gut. “She deserves to make her own decisions. She deserves for you to be honest with her and not let your ego get in the way of what she might want.”

There it is again. Luke letting on that he knows something he doesn’t about Poppy. Unease spreads throughout his every nerve ending.

He’s always been the one who knows Poppy. Who understands her. Who gets how she thinks and grasps how she feels. 

Luke might think he does, but he doesn’t. Not like Nico.

Nico, who can’t quite fathom how he’s ended up being schooled on how to treat a woman by a 20 year old. By Luke. 

“It isn’t ego,” he mutters in denial, but it’s no use. Luke is scarily prompt to retort - especially when it comes to defending Poppy, Nico knows by now. It would be endearing if it didn’t frustrate him to no end.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you’re so afraid to fail with her that you won’t even try.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” He knows again that’s a pathetic excuse. Poppy had called him out on it, herself. But surely the hurt now is nothing in comparison to the hurt that could be. 

The hurt that comes with the demise of an actual relationship. Of building and building and building something, putting in years of tiresome efforts only for it to be demolished just as the final brick is laid. Of the ever-growing love between the two of them wilting into something sad and lifeless.

He can take the silent treatment. He can take the avoidance.

He won’t be able to handle that.

“How’s that going for you?” 

Luke isn’t trying to be mean, he knows that, but it doesn’t lessen the sharpness of his words - the truth digging into the most sensitive parts of Nico’s skin so deep that he feels like he’s bleeding out.

Nico sits down himself, no longer blocking the exit and allowing for Luke to leave of his own accord - only, the younger boy sits beside him, heaving out a prologued sigh and giving his captain a friendly pat on his leg. 

“Just give her time, she’ll come around, and then the two of you can talk. And when you do, you owe it to her to be open about what you both want. If you can promise me you won’t do anything else to hurt her, I’ll promise you to stop checking you in practice.”

“Sounds fair,” Nico agrees, mustering up a weak smile to give to the younger defensemen before Luke stands up. “Sorry for cornering you.”

“You’re fine, I was being an idiot.” Luke shrugs, making his way over to the door, and only because he clearly can’t help himself, he stops before leaving. “You see how easy that was to admit?”

Nico usually has better aim, and he blames Luke’s speedy departure for the way the pad he throws hits the wall with a soft whack.

Frustration is a feeling Nico doesn’t think he has ever been as familiar with as he has been lately. 

He’s frustrated as a player - the team unable to keep a winning streak to save their lives, having lost both of their games on the road last week and the mentality of the locker room dwindling with every week that passes that they don’t keep their momentum going.

Frustrated as a captain, specifically for the teammates they keep dropping to injury. Jack, Timo, Eric, Pally all dipping in and out with scratches, the roster dwindling with every passing game.

Frustrated as a friend, guilt building every time he thinks about Jack becoming more reserved in the days leading up to the All Star break, his shoulder putting him out of contention to play and the team having to send Jesper as their representative in his place. 

And, it goes without saying, frustrated when it comes to Poppy - who he had hoped would be in attendance when he had elected himself to take Jesper’s place at the signing and Q&A session he had scheduled at the end of the week. When he had come all the way out to the Rock and sought her out in the Foundation offices after volunteering, he had found out she had been off sick since that day in the auditorium, so his frustrations had crescendoed to an all time high. 

Even his parents being back in town hasn’t helped - his mother more observant than he likes to think, and she has been pecking away at any attempts of a cool exterior with more questions than he thinks he’s going to be on the receiving end of at this Q&A.

Nico has never been one to complain about any kind of community event, but the thought of having to spend all day plastering on a fake smile and pretending he isn’t at his boiling point is proving to be difficult.

So, when Jessica, the media admin who had been debriefing him on what was going to be posted on the team socials, had finally finished and had left to liaise with one of her colleagues, he had sent his mother, Katja, away to grab him a drink before the signing started. 

He just needs a moment of quiet. Where he can self-level the anxiety that is currently crushing him like a bug, take some deep breaths, and mentally prepare for the overwhelming social interactions he is about to endure. 

He wishes Poppy could be there.

He had tried texting her, just to check on her, but again, she hadn’t replied, and the thoughts have been swirling into something ugly within him the longer he has gone not knowing where or how she is.

Is she actually even sick, or is this just another attempt to stay out of his way?

The breathing clearly isn’t working, he thinks. Maybe walking might help.

Or maybe walking straight into the front of the girl who is the cause of all his frustrations might help.

As soon as he sees her, he feels guilt prick at his nerves like continuous, thick needles pushing into the flesh.

When he thinks back on the weeks before, he doesn’t entirely know if he had wanted her to look worse for wear, but as he takes her in now, he realises he hadn’t.

This is the furthest thing from what he had wanted for her.

Poppy stands before him a paler version of herself - eyes sunken, lips chapped, a slight sheen to her forehead that has caused the baby hairs around there to curl up and stick to her skin. 

Her boss Elaine had said she was sick and he had selfishly spiralled into the assumption it was just another attempt to avoid any contact him, but now his chest feels heavy with a mixture of shame and worry.

She takes a moment too long to gather herself after their initial collision, and his words feel heavy in his mouth as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse, and the way she blinks up at him is slow and fatigued. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t look like you should be working.”

“I’m fine.” She definitely doesn’t sound fine. “Where’s Jesper?

“Bratter went to Toronto to take Jack’s place in the All Stars, they didn’t tell you?” It hadn’t been a last minute decision, so he isn’t sure how she wouldn’t know already.

“Oh,” she frowns, and if he wasn’t so worried, he’d find it cute how she looks like she’s trying to recall a memory where that information had been relayed to her. “Yeah, I think they did. They didn’t tell me who’s replacing him, though.”

“That would be me.” He doesn’t point out that it should be obvious.

“That seems like overkill.” There’s a hint of familiarity that he feels at the quip, and Nico doesn’t know if she’s trying to crack a joke or trying to be rude - he doesn’t care, either way. When he notices her squinting against the light, he subtly shifts until she’s no longer facing it directly.

“I volunteered.” He admits, and he watches as realisation sinks in. He volunteered just to be near her, and if she calls him out on it, he’s in no fit state to deny it. Of course he did, she has barely spoken to him in almost 4 weeks, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s losing his mind a little. “I was hoping we could talk after,”

“Nico,” she sighs, touching her palm to her temple and seemingly applying pressure, pinching her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through a wave of what looks like disorientation, “I really can’t deal with this today,”

“I miss you, Poppy,” he hums, and he knows it’s an asshole move, to take advantage of the current situation, of her being sick and having lowered her defences, but he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t take the opportunity to touch her. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, strokes a thumb softly at her cheek, and tries not to think too much about the way she seems to lean into it. “I’m worried about you.”

“You’re supposed to be giving me space.” She sounds defeated, and there’s a selfish part of him that hopes she is - that she is relenting to his advances and giving in - but he knows Poppy too well to assume it’s going to be that easy.

He doesn’t even like to think about how much he has hurt her. When images of that evening flash through his memory - when he closes his eyes and sees her teary ones looking back at him, can hear how she’d fought for him to listen, to figure things out together - his chest aches in a way he doesn’t think it has before. It’s relentless, and excruciating, and he hasn’t yet found a coping mechanism that gets rid of it.

Except for seeing her. When he sees her, it lessens. When he hears her laugh from around a corner, or spots her in the halls at The Rock, talking with her co-workers or perusing one of the vending machines, he can pretend he’s okay. He can pretend that they’re just not talking because they’re both busy - not because he monumentally messed everything up with her.

And now, talking directly to her, touching her, seeing her up close - despite the difference in her usually bright complexion - he can convince himself of the same. Things are okay. They’re okay.

“I also said I still wanted to be friends.” He tries, his hand still cupping the side of her face before she shakes him off.

“Except that we’re only friends when it suits you.” She accuses with a frown, a little energy seeming to flood back into her system. “And when it doesn’t, you just toss me off to the side like I mean nothing to you.”

“That’s not true, I-,”

“I really don’t feel well enough to be having this conversation right now.”

“Then when? Every time I see you, you can’t get away fast enough. We work together, we have to see each other, you can’t avoid me forever.” He knows he doesn’t deserve to rush her. He knows he has no right to be making any kind of demands, and that the situation they’re in is entirely his doing, but he can’t help himself.

He’s frustrated.

He’s desperate. 

He had thought he could give her the patience she deserves - the space she needs - but it has been proving immensely difficult, and he just wants her back.

In whatever capacity she’s willing to offer, he’ll take it - as long as her eyes meet his for longer than a second at a time and he gets to be on the receiving end of one of her heart-stopping smiles, he’ll take it.

Even if they can’t be what they were. If the texts cease, the dinners together stop, the drives home from the Rock aren’t on the table anymore - he just wants to know there’s still love between them. That when she looks at him she doesn’t only feel the crippling hurt he fears he has caused her.

“You had no problem shutting me out the last time,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at him, “It should be like second nature for you to ignore me again.”

“That isn’t fair, it’s not the same-,”

“Poppy!” 

Nico has always loved the way his mother is enamoured by Poppy.

The first time they had met, she’d been besotted with her. It had been during Poppy’s first year with the team - his parents had come out quite late in the season, late enough that he hadn’t seen them in a while since the summer, and he was anticipating their arrival with child-like excitement. 

Their flight into Newark had been delayed, and with them coming out on a game day, he was shut in the locker room by the time they had arrived, and he had asked Poppy for his biggest favour yet in the course of their friendship.

She had agreed to it no questions asked, no favour held over him in return, and she had pretty much hosted the two of them from their arrival at the Prudential Center to when the arena had emptied.

When Nico had reunited with his parents in the family lounge, Poppy had still been with them, waiting until she saw them off into their son’s company before leaving them alone, and he had never been more grateful to someone in his life.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he had apologised as he embraced his father, a firm clap coming down on his back as his arms wrapped around him, and he had smiled at Poppy over his shoulder. “Did you guys enjoy the game?”

“Of course we did, we had the best company in all of New Jersey,” his mother had her own arm around his best friend, Poppy’s cheeks flushing as she smiled bashfully back at him. 

Nico had kissed his mom on the cheek and had given her a side hug with the arm not around Poppy before he moved his attention to his friend.

“Thank you for looking after them,” he beamed at her, wrapping his arms around her once his mother had released and giving her a little squeeze. “I owe you,”

“That’s alright. Your dad got a little rowdy in the second period, but other than that they weren’t too much trouble,” Poppy had shrugged, a mischievous smirk cast toward his father who gave a humoured scoff in return.

“You were yelling louder than me, Poppy,” he remarked, his accent thick and his tone fond. “Katja tell him.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nico chuckled, shaking his head toward his mom as she opened her mouth ready to pick a side, “I believe him, she gets creative when it comes to calling out the refs, I’ve heard it before.”

“Sorry for being passionate about my team,” she had pouted, “I’ll just sit in silence while you all get high-sticked to holy heaven next time.”

Nico had felt warmth wash all over him when he heard his dad’s loud cackle of a laugh - the kind he gave over family game nights when Nina outsmarted both her brothers, and they would turn to their father for some kind of defence, the kind of laughter filled with familiarity and affection - and had seen his mother’s crinkling eyes and dimpled smile.

“Do you need a ride home?” He had asked, swallowing down the attraction that was spiralling within him before it was too obvious to ignore. They had rode in together that morning, and he would usually drive her home if that was the case, but he had also promised his parents he would treat them to a nice meal after their long flight in.

“I’m alright, I can hitch a ride with one of the other boys,” Poppy declined, “You guys enjoy your dinner, it was really nice to meet you.”

“Nonsense,” Katja had exclaimed, a hand on Poppy’s arm as she moved to hug her goodbye, “Come with us, Nico can drop you home after,”

“We’ve been dying to hear someone tell us all of Nico’s secrets about his life over here.” Rino had joined in, egging Poppy on until she couldn’t say no.

When she had looked over to Nico, he hadn’t realised she was silently asking for his permission, too busy looking at her with a dopey grin on his face before he pulled himself together enough to nod his approval.

“Okay, yeah, thank you,” Poppy had agreed, “I just have to grab my bag from the office, I could meet you at your car in five minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in five.”

Nico had watched her go off as his mother looped her arm through his, leaning into him and watching Poppy until she disappeared through the far doors. 

“I like her,” Katja had a big, complimentary grin on her face when Nico looked down a little at her - and despite slipping into their native tongue, Nico had thought it would be obvious to anyone listening in what they were talking about just from the look on his mother’s face.

“Yeah, she’s great,” He had concurred, shaking her off his arm so that he could wrap it around her shoulders as they walked, and in a true show of his denial at the time, he had added, “A really good friend.”

He still remembers the sound of his mother’s knowing hum, that interaction between the four of them a catalyst for the feelings he had for the longest time suppressed.

Weeks ago, Poppy had asked him the last time he had wanted to kiss her. He’d told her about a night in a bar after the team had crashed out of the playoffs last year. A night where, in all the anguish and misery and regret, she had made him feel like he could breathe again. It was the last time he had felt overwhelmed by the urge to take the leap into something more with her.

The first time had been that night with his parents, when he’d dropped her back at her apartment after an evening of them oversharing embarrassing childhood anecdotes and Poppy sharing her own stories - ones she had of her favourite memories with Nico, and even ones without, letting his mom and dad into the strongroom that was her life before she met their son. 

Looking back, he thinks that night truly would have been a catalyst for his blossoming affections if he didn’t feel the watchful gaze of his parents waiting in his car while he made sure Poppy got inside safe.

He would have kissed her, he knows it.

Instead, he had returned to the driver’s seat and tried to ignore the smug grin his mother kept sending through the rearview mirror from her place in the back seat the whole journey to their hotel.

In the years since, her affections for Poppy have only grown, and so he should have expected that she would get excited the second she saw her - he only wishes her timing was better.

“Hi, Mrs Hischier” Poppy smiles despite her discomfort, the apples of her cheeks rounding and endearment sparkling in her previously dull eyes. The energy she gives to his mother is a stark contrast to that she had just been giving to Nico. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s Katja, sweet girl, it’s clearly been too long since we have spoken!” His mother’s arms wrap around her, and he watches as Poppy’s body seems to melt at the touch, tense muscles relaxing and hand rubbing at her back. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look too good, are you feeling okay?”

She presses the back of her hand to Poppy’s clammy forehead as Nico remembers her doing so often to him as a child, gauging her temperature and casting a concerned glance over her from head to toe. 

“I’m alright, I’ve just been off sick the past week, I still probably look a little like a zombie,” Poppy chuckles, dismissively, still maintaining an eyre of warmth in the way she looks at his mother.

“Not at all, as pretty as ever, isn’t she, Nico?” His mom nudges him as if he needs any prompting to compliment her.

“Yeah,” he agrees without hesitation, and he starts to feel palpitations when her eyes glance quickly over to meet his before darting away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Poppy huffs, and he doesn’t entirely know who she meant that for. “Did you and Rino enjoy your trip to Canada?”

Nico doesn’t know why he finds himself surprised by the way Poppy effortlessly recollects the information - a throwaway comment he had made to her in the back of that bar all those weeks ago of his parent’s whereabouts. Poppy remembers because she cares. She has always cared. Always listened to what he has to say, even if he thinks it’s irrelevant, and has always shown interest. 

He finds himself watching her as she catches up with his mother, giving tired smiles but engaging nonetheless, the conversation flowing between the two of them just as effortlessly as it had on the day they had met - where they had conversed over dinner like they had known each other for years, and Nico had blushed every time he met his mother’s eyes from across the table.

He remembers his birthday dinner with his family at the beginning of the month, where he had sat in mostly-silence and wished for her company, and he starts to wonder if it’s always going to be like that, from now on. 

If he’s always going to be longing for her. If he’s always going to feel like something’s missing if she isn’t around.

“I should go,” he hears her say, “I have to check some of the questions with the moderator and they’ll be opening the doors for the signing, soon.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” his mom presses a comforting hand to Poppy’s arm, thumb rubbing in a soothing gesture before they part with goodbyes and a promise to catch up, properly, at some point. 

Nico doesn’t miss the way she hadn’t given him the same courtesy. And neither does his mother.

Her eyes narrow in his direction, and just as her lips part to no doubt call him out, a figure comes up beside them,

“They’re ready to start the signing if you are, Nico.” Jessica’s unusually perky voice rings out beside him, and he’s never been more thankful for an interruption in his life.

He hasn’t seen that disappointed glint in his mother’s eyes since he’d told her he was bringing a girlfriend home to meet her at the end of last summer, and had shown up to the house with Talia in tow.

Poppy

As backwards as it might seem to some people, the only part of Poppy’s life where she is able to seek complete solace in recent years has always been in her work.

When she had first gotten her job within the organisation - a co-op internship that covered her final year of college - she had been almost overwhelmed with pride for the first time in her life. She had always been a good student, had got into college of her own merit and hadn’t used family connections like she suspected her brother had done, and she had worked her butt off to prep for the application and interview.

And when she’d gotten the call to tell her they wanted her on the team, she had been over the moon.

She’d gotten along so well with the people she had met in the team so far, had loved their ethos and the environment at the Rock, and she couldn’t wait to build something great for herself when she got started.

She had immediately called home after accepting the position, buzzing with excitement to tell her father that she of all the alleged thousands of applicants had been accepted to work on the media programme for the New Jersey Devils, a respected establishment in one of the biggest sporting leagues in the country. She had expected he would be proud of her, too, but he had ended up heaving out a disappointed sigh, and she could hear him fold up his paper in the background before he had asked, “Hockey, Poppy? Really? What kind of success do you expect to find in such a barbaric environment?”

As much as his disapproval had hurt at that time, she credits her father’s aloofness with her happiness in her role to this day.

It turns out, she can find a lot of success in a barbaric environment if she puts enough of her heart into it.

Even back in her media days, acting as a lackey for some of the more senior guys and trudging through those first few months of hazing, she had loved her job. 

Sharing insights into the team and the sport, determined to break any stigma associated with the guys who played it and all while highlighting the way it brought pride and community to her home state, she left the building every day with a pep in her step and a giant grin on her face.

And it only got bigger when she was recruited onto the Youth Foundation team. The projects she has worked on, the people she has met, the incredible things they have all achieved together - she doesn’t think she could have gotten any luckier with her career - despite what her judgemental, uppity parents think of it.

So, when things get hard elsewhere - when she spends a little too much time with her family and goes a little stir crazy, or when she gets her heart broken by the one guy she had trusted to handle it with care, and ends up fixating on the possibility of him rekindling things with a woman he had told Poppy didn’t make him happy - she resorts to her factory settings of knuckling down and putting her work first.

Which is how, in the weeks since Nico had left her apartment that horrific night, she has attached her name to every project she can pick up. She has accepted every meeting, answered every call, returned every email, all with a smile she had felt like she was forcing at first, but has started to feel real as time has gone one.

And she thinks it’s working.

She doesn’t dread coming into the Arena - doesn’t pace the length of her office to prepare herself every time she needs to leave it, doesn’t hold her breath as she turns the corners in anticipation of seeing him, doesn’t wince every time someone knocks on her door until they pop their head in and reveal themselves.

Poppy has well and truly immersed herself in her work, and she can’t even feel the rattling of the shattered pieces of her heart anymore.

She’s too consumed with other stuff. With hockey clinics, planning fundraisers, local rink openings, development programmes, the Sweep The Deck gala, mentoring sessions, preparations for the Stadium Series in the next month. 

She should be exhausted. 

If she actually gives herself the brain power to think about anything other than work for a second, she probably would be - but she’s turned into a hammerhead shark of sorts, and she knows she’ll suffocate in all the other feelings if she stops swimming. 

If she gives even a second of her time to the constant urge to think about Nico, she’ll drown in him. In the hurt and the ache she feels when he’s even in the same room.

She has taken to pretending he isn’t there. To looking at others, immersing herself too deep in conversations that he won’t dare to interrupt, and she is actually satisfied with how she’s managed to hold herself together when it comes to the rest of the guys.

When the season had started last year, and Poppy had been avoiding Nico for the other reason over the course of those months, she had pretty much locked herself in her office during work hours, and had stayed home outside of them. She didn’t go to games, didn’t go to team events that she wasn’t working, didn’t attend birthdays or dinners or celebration trips to whatever bar could accommodate the whole team for the night. She had had stopped engaging as much with the other guys - Jack had even taken to calling her a recluse if she remembers correctly - and she’s determined not to let this mess get in the way of the great relationships she has with the rest of the guys. 

If not for the fact that it would be petulant for her to take out her frustrations regarding their captain with them, then for the fact that she needs the companionship.

She needs it so much that she doesn’t run from it, or even pretend like she doesn’t like their company. 

Weeks ago, if she had been coming up from the parking level with Nate Bastian, and he had tried to crack the joke, “Hey, Poppy, why are elevator jokes the best kind? Because they work on many levels,” she honestly would have scoffed and called him lame. But she had felt her lips twitching earlier in the day, and had let him boast about how he had made her smile as they walked together through the building to anyone they passed without even denying it.

The guys have been doing more for her mentality than she can ever thank them for - holding her up while her every instinct is telling her to crumble - and she couldn’t be more grateful to be a part of such a great team.

The Hughes brothers, especially. Luke, who texts her his every rambling thought sandwiched between memes and links to Tiktoks about giraffes, because he knows they make her smile. And Jack, who, despite being out of play with his shoulder, still, checks in with her every day he comes in, a drink in hand when she needs a pick me up the most, and an ever growing list of ridiculous names to call her. 

His continued visits have made her grow less weary of the knocks at her door, and so when one echoes through the room as she’s replying to some emails, she doesn’t feel the stutter of her heartbeat like she would have done last week.

“Hey, Pop,” he pokes his head into her office, fingers flexed around the door jamb as he edges his way in, empty handed, this time, but Poppy can’t hold it against him. Her day is almost finished, after all.

“What, no stupid nickname today? Did I upset you or something?” She pauses typing as she looks up at him, watching him close the door behind himself as he takes her lighthearted tone as an invitation inside.

“I did have a joke lined up about Snap and Crackle, but you’ve ruined it now actually,” he rolls his eyes playfully, throwing himself down in the chair opposite hers and flicking affectionately at his bobblehead. 

“Sorry,” Poppy gives a quick, bashful smile before going back to her work, tapping away at her noisy keyboard as she works her way through her inbox, “What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you’d seen Luke?”

“Not today, he doesn’t usually make a habit of coming down here though. Did he say he was gonna stop by?”

“Not exactly.” Jack frowns, a slight shrug of his better shoulder.

Poppy casts a confused glance his way, eyes narrowing as she watches him fidget in the seat. “Do you guys think the y chromosome is meant to get you out of ever giving a straight answer to something? What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Well, Dawsy said he’d seen him with Nico, and lately that means,” he looks as if he’s weighing up what to say in his head, and Poppy wishes the lower part of her desk didn’t block her legs from his so she could give him a quick kick to the shin, “Well, people usually come straight here after Nico pulls them to talk.”

She sighs.

She had figured as much, but the confirmation of it doesn’t make her heart ache any less.

She’d had her first suspicions when Smitty had shown her every picture she thinks he’s ever taken of his kids the other day. He’d sat beside her in the lounge while the team and staff had been waiting for some sort of safety meeting - one she hadn’t even got to focus much on because he had talked her ear off for almost an hour until he was finally pulled away for some other responsibilities. 

And then Jonas had come by her office - something he had literally never done before. He had found Poppy working on a project, brainstorming with post-its on her cleared floor, and had waited around until she had finished - chipping in little ideas here and there for a presentation on the Learn To Play programme and using his 6’2 stature to take an aerial photo of all her sticky notes that Poppy never would have been able to get right, enabling her to clean them away and tidy up after herself before she finished for that day. It wasn’t that she minded his company, he’d actually been a massive help, but she had this nagging feeling that he would never come see her of his own volition.

Then there was Holtzy and Dawson volunteering for the hockey clinic in the debrief earlier like they were being held at gunpoint and forced into labour.

Nico has put them all up to it.

Even when he’s giving her space, he can’t leave her be.

“So what you’re saying is he’s abusing his position of power to get you all to come talk to me,”

“I don’t know if I’d phrase it like that,” Jack scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, and she only feels a slight pinch of guilt. She knows he had a habit of coming to see her before all of this, but his visits have definitely increased over the past few weeks - so, he isn’t entirely innocent, either. “Maybe he misses you?”

“Maybe he should have thought about that,” she mutters, leaning onto her desk and pressing her palms into her closed eyes to relieve the headache that’s starting to build. 

Distracting herself with work had been going so well.

“You know we can’t talk about this, Jack,” she sighs, “He’s your captain, it’s not fair of me to vent about our situation to you of all people.”

“Ouch,”

“You know what I mean. If it was anybody else, I’d come to you for advice, but you guys are a team, I’m just-,”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Poppy,” Jack rebukes, sitting up straight in his chair and levelling her with a stern look, “You’re our friend. Even if Nico is asking the others to check up on you, they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t care about you. None of us want a repeat of the start of the season, okay, we just want to know you’re alright.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Poppy gives a weak smile, the kind that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “I just don’t want anybody taking sides, I know Luke’s been off with him about the whole thing,”

“That’s probably where he is now,” Jack realises, “He did get a little rough in practice before.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she says, knowing Luke and Nico had a collision earlier that had been the talk of the office all morning. “Look, I love you guys for it, but I don’t need babysitters. I just wanna move on. And you can tell Nico that, the next time he tries to force you out here with.another iced beverage just to keep me company or whatever.”

“Well, they go on the road tomorrow, so you should get some peace and quiet around here.” Jack still seems solemn at the thought of the team travelling anywhere without him, but she has tried one too many times to talk to him about it and, every time, he has shut her down. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and if she’s making a point of not wanting to be pushed on a subject, she isn’t going to do the same to him, even if her instincts are telling her to wrap the guy up in a bear hug and tell him everything will be okay. “I’ll leave you to your work, anyway, I’ll be around until the weekend if you need me, Pop. I promise I would be bringing you drinks even if he wasn’t asking me to.”

He pushes himself up from the seat with his good side before retreating back towards the door, and Poppy can’t let him go without at least attempting to cheer him up. He never usually leaves this quick, always finds some reason to hover and affectionately irritate her just a little - but she can tell he’s done figuring out reasons to linger around the arena for the day.

“I would have laughed, by the way,” she calls out to him, causing him to pause half way out and look back, a questioning brow arched her way. “Snap, Crackle and Pop would have been a good one, it’s funny.”

“They’re all funny, Poppy.”

She really is losing her mind.

As if the universe is playing some gigantic, cruel joke on her, Poppy’s promised peace and quiet while the team have gone on the road has turned into her shut in her apartment with every single curtain drawn, wrapped up under a mountain of covers to combat the shivers, and a leg poking out of them to alleviate the hot flushes - all while battling the most crippling waves of nausea she has ever experienced in all of her adult life.

She had gone home from work on Wednesday and had invited Nia around, hoping her best friend’s anger around the Nico situation had dwindled enough that she wasn’t going to harp on about it all night, and they could enjoy some movies and dirty takeout like they were back in college without Poppy having to even think about anything else.

Uptown Girls had been playing on the TV, empty containers of Korean Hot Pot had littered her coffee table, and Nia had fallen asleep sprawled out across the couch when Poppy had first started to feel off.

She had been watching Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning swirling around in the teacup ride, and had started to feel like her own living room was spinning.

She had barely made it to her bathroom before she was puking her guts up, waking Nia in the process who had spent the next hour holding her hair back before she tucked her into bed.

Poppy had called in to work the next morning. She had missed even watching the game against Carolina, could barely remember a solid half an hour of consciousness between that Wednesday night and Saturday morning.

All she remembers is vomiting, Nia checking in after work, bringing an abundance of electrolyte drinks and trying to get her to eat before she had to leave again She recalls burning bagels she had forgot she had left in the toaster, vomiting again at the smell of the burned bagels, and having a series of the most absurdly vivid dreams she’s ever experienced in her life. 

All of which had one common theme.

Nico.

Dreams where she’s swimming in a large, unidentifiable body of water. It’s cold, and she is exhausted, and her limbs ache from treading water and trying to stay afloat. It’s mostly dark, sometimes lit by the moon, the reflection of which shimmers in her path to something in the distance. And she’s stretching, reaching out, desperately kicking her legs to get to whatever it is until she realises it’s him, and he’s swimming away, making it a thousand times harder on her.

Dreams of her stood at the door of her apartment, the repeated knock on the other side echoing on and on as she scrambles to look for the keys to unlock it. It’s a pattern she thinks she recognises, a rhythmic knock that only he has used before, but she can’t get the door open with all her might, and her keys are nowhere to be seen. 

Dreams of their fated night together, only this time it’s like she’s on the outside looking in, watches the two of them in the throes of passion, only when she takes a proper look, he isn’t into it like she is. Or there’s another version where she isn’t herself at all. She has much lighter hair, and mutters out profanities in German as Nico presses sweet kisses into her lips and cradles her face lovingly. She’s Talia, and he looks as happy as ever when she is.

Despite the almost 3 days of round the clock sleep, she has never felt so exhausted in her life.

When the nausea fades ever so slightly, and she gets enough strength in herself to get up - to eat, to drink, to function like a normal human being, she feels sluggish and weak, and like she hasn’t had a moment’s rest in months.

Nia had been checking in, surprisingly not sick herself even though Poppy assumes her bug came from the takeout they shared - but Nia is vegetarian, so she had thought that might have explained it. She had been making sure Poppy remained hydrated, and continued to eat despite the continuous waves of nausea that kept coming back. She had done her grocery shopping, stocking her refrigerator with a bunch of different juices and smoothies, and buying her a bunch of fresh fruit, some bread, some yoghurts, pasta, crackers, plain chips, all the things that would hopefully keep her energy up and her nausea down.

And it had taken her a week to recover to a point that she felt like she could work again. She probably shouldn’t have forced herself back when she wasn’t feeling, or looking, 100%, but she had become so used to using her job as a coping mechanism, that regaining the slightest bit of her energy had her spiralling a little mentally, and she couldn’t take being at home any longer.

She had known that Jesper had his Q&A event, and had to stop by the Rock to pick up some of her files before making her way over - but that trip had proved to be more trouble than it was worth, and she had ended up getting herself all mixed up when she had returned to her office and had ended up dry heaving in the bathrooms when she caught a mix of smells walking through the hallway on her way in.

She had wanted to get some prep work done - approve the questions, meet with the photographers, catch up with Jess from Media, but she had ended up hurled over the toilet bowl for a good hour until she felt somewhat better, and was in so much of a rush to get over to the event that all she had managed to do to pull herself together was throw her hair up and hope that chomping on a breath mint wouldn’t trigger her senses all over again. 

She felt like she was fresh out of The Walking Dead.

She had to get an Uber over, had sat with her head out of the window like some kind of dog to alleviate the sweat that had broken out from her rushing around, and by the time she made it - she was so out of sorts she barely could remember why she was there.

And then she had bumped into Nico.

And she hates that she had felt a little better.

She hates that she found comfort in the fresh smell of his cologne, or the soft touch of his hand to her skin. She hates that the sound of his voice had quelled the rapid thumping of her heartbeat, and that it felt so good just to be in his presence, she had almost forgotten how much she had been hurt. How much he had hurt her.

She hates how she had felt obliged to pretend everything was okay in front of his mother, the sweetest woman on planet Earth embracing her like she was her own daughter, wrapping her up in a shroud of worry and sheer maternal instinct.

And she hates how all of those feelings have lingered throughout the afternoon. As she had watched him engage with his fans during his signing, big dimpled smiles sent to tiny children drowning in jerseys way too big for their small frames, and all adorning his number on the back. As she had watched Katja as the event unfolded, eyes sparkling with pride for her son and everything he has accomplished. As she’s stood and watched him answer questions she knows the answers to like she knows her own favourite food.

Where is your dream vacation destination?

He wants to visit Costa Rica.

What is your favourite sport outside of hockey?

He loves Tennis, loves Roger Federer, a real idol for him as a kid growing up in Switzerland, but also loves soccer, which he always says with an uncomfortable twist to his lips, because his father used to play.

What does he miss the most about home?

His family. His siblings. She probably knows more about Nina and Luca than she knows about Oliver, at this point.

“What’s your favourite thing to do in Jersey when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Uhh,” Poppy watches as Nico rolls his shoulders, his face pensive as he ponders the question, “It depends when we get time off. If the weathers nice, Jersey has some nice beaches, sometimes we go in a group and hang out,” he answers, and just before he carries on, his eyes flicker over to Poppy, meeting hers and holding her gaze until she looks away. “But if it’s when we’re playing I try to spend any downtime with friends. I have some really great friends here and I think that helps me destress a little, just being around them, going out for food and drinks and stuff. Some of my favourite people I have met while I’ve been living here.”

Poppy doesn’t dare look back up, her pulse throbbing in her temples.

“Well that’s a perfect segue into the next question, who’s your best friend on the team?”

She doesn’t stick around to listen to him skirt around that answer, pushing herself discretely through the doors back into the room that the signing had taken place in and busying herself packing up what she can without any help. 

She needs to carry on working, needs to stop thinking, needs to stop feeling so many things. Needs to be somewhere else, where she can’t look at him, can’t admire the way the deep brown of his irises shine when he smiles, or how one of his eyebrows does that cute little hop when he speaks for a little too long, or how she thinks she can still feel his hand on her face even though it’s been at least a good couple of hours since they had spoken by now.

She doesn’t realise how quick she’s moving around until the room starts to spin, and she stumbles a little into a table before steadying herself on one of the chairs.

“Hey, Poppy, are you alright?” The words are spoken in an accent she’s always found comforting, only the voice is different. Softer. Feminine.

She looks up to see Nico’s mom moving closer, concern causing her eyes to go round and her brows to furrow, and the soft, gentle touch of her hand to Poppy’s arm has her stuttering in her response.

“Y-yeah,” she breathes, “Just got a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure, do you need to sit down?”

“I’m okay, honestly,” she smiles, despite the way Katja’s warm, caring eyes mirror those of her son and make Poppy’s chest ache just a little. “I haven’t really eaten much today, I just got a little lightheaded, I’ll be fine once we’re done here and I can go home and eat.”

“Here,” Katja reaches into her purse, digging around before she pulls out some sort of granola bar, “I got this for a snack on my flight and didn’t eat it, you can have it to keep you going.”

Poppy can hardly decline the motherly gesture, and takes the snack with a thank you before unwrapping it and taking a cautious bite. She probably isn’t doing herself any favours, the nausea creeping up when she chews on a bit of dried fruit, and the unexpected flavour immediately triggers her stomach. She’s been sticking to crackers and dry toast, and hasn’t really eaten anything sweet in a week - the combination of the fruit and the syrupy coating making her feel so uneasy she has to sit down. 

“You’re still sick?” Katja sits beside her, watching over her in the way only a loving mother could, concern etched upon her beautiful features and a tilted head examining Poppy from head to toe. 

“I usually shift bugs a lot quicker than this, but I think the not being able to eat and the exhaustion is making everything worse.”

“You aren’t sleeping, either?”

“Technically I might be sleeping too much.” Poppy takes another bite, trying to put her mind over the matter, knowing that it should actually make her feel well enough to get through the rest of the event to have something in her belly. “But I keep having these crazy dreams, and they’re so vivid that I don’t feel rested at all when I wake up, even if I got enough hours in. Then I just feel anxious and it makes me more tired.”

Katja nods understandingly, a knowing smile plucking at her lips until her cheeks dimple, just like Nico’s do. “How many weeks?”

“Have I been sick?” Poppy asks, too busy trying to ignore the sickly sweet flavour on her tongue to notice the woman sat beside her shaking her head, “Just last week. I think it was bad takeout or something, combined with work stress probably-,”

“How many weeks are you into your pregnancy, Poppy?” She chuckles, a gentle hand placed on Poppy’s lap. “You don’t have to pretend to me.”

“My-,” Poppy covers her mouth as she swallows a hardly-chewed bit of granola, “I’m not-,” she struggles a little with her words, cringing at the way she can feel it going down her throat, and clears it with an awkward cough when she can, “Pregnancy?”

“Oh Goodness, I’m sorry,” Katja’s eyes widen in alarm, the hand on Poppy’s knee squeezing apologetically, “I just thought, the dreams, the sickness, the exhaustion, that’s how it started for me with all 3 of my children.”

“Oh.” At least she isn’t the only person Nico has ever caused to have such torturous dreams, she thinks. “No, I’ve just had a bug, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna clear up,” she says, her voice much smaller as she continues to speak through trembling lips, continues to grow more unsure of her words as something akin to dread settles in the pit of her stomach. “And this is like the aftershocks of being sick, or something, one last hurrah for the germs.”

“Of course,” Katja nods, giving Poppy’s knee a comforting rub before placing her hands on her own lap, a sheepish look given as she makes eye contact, the same dark eyes she’s been dreaming about looking right at her. “I would never usually assume, I swear you don’t look it, it was just my first thought when you mentioned the sleep. It just took me right back, my pregnancies were all like that. Heavy sickness, exhaustion, even in my bones I felt tired, and the dreams were crazy, especially with Nico, it was like full movies playing out in my head every night for the whole 9 months.”

“I never knew that was a thing.” Poppy has obviously heard of morning sickness. She’s heard of expectant mothers being exhausted, their bodies worn out from the oh-so-minor task of creating life, but she hadn’t ever heard anyone talk about dreams being an indicator of pregnancy.

“Babies make your body do crazy things.” She gives a reminiscent chuckle, and Poppy notices her lose herself a little in the memory, warm eyes melting with the recollection. “But at least you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Right.” The empty swallow Poppy takes next hurts more than the granola had before, the scratch of the cereal a minor irritation in comparison to the lump currently forming there. “What other symptoms did you have?”

“At the start, food was my enemy. Rino used to have to make me smoothies to get all my vitamins in. You wouldn’t think with the appetite my boys had growing up that they would have made me fear eating so much, but it was bad. I always envied the women who just had a little morning sickness.”

Poppy feels her eyes well up - more so at the way Katja’s eyes glint with pride and love when she talks about her family than anything else. It’s beautiful. Even recalling how sick her babies had made her, Poppy can tell from the look on her face that her pregnancies brought her unadulterated joy.

She remembers when Oliver’s wife, Kimberley, had been pregnant with their first son. They had lived in Jersey, still, back then, and family dinners were a staple every Friday night. They were all sat around the dining table back at the Jensen house, and Kimberley, God bless her, had misguidedly asked Priscilla what her pregnancies were like. 

“Hell.” Poppy’s mom had said, sipping at her wine and looking over the glass at Oliver with a measured glare. “He gave me uneven breasts and dry skin,”

“Mom,” Oliver had grunted in disgust, a protective hand reaching out to take hold of his wife’s.

“And she,” Priscilla gave an accusatory point in Poppy’s direction, “Gave me thin hair and postnatal depression. But she evened my breasts back out, so there’s a silver lining, I suppose.”

Kimberley hasn’t made the same mistake of seeking motherly advice since then. 

“And Nina made me have super-human scent, I could smell things from floors away.”

Poppy can barely look at her anymore.

After she’d spoken to Nico when he’d turned up before, she could still smell him from across the room. And she hadn’t been able to step foot in the common area in her office when she’d dropped by to pick up her files earlier, thinking she could smell someone’s microwaved food and feeling like she was about to vomit. She has only been able to nibble at dry crackers all week just to avoid eating or smelling anything that would set her off.

But that’s the bug, right? She’s been sluggish, she’s been tired, running hot all week, and her body has constantly ached, especially-

“I should get all this stuff packed up,” Poppy shoots up from her seat, thankfully able to suppress the dizziness. “I think I feel better, thank you so much for keeping me company.”

She shouldn’t hope so much that she isn’t being rude, shouldn’t expect or want Katja to hold her to high esteem, but she finds herself cringing at her quick subject change, and caring a little too much that it will make her think less of her.

Her son doesn’t want her to be a part of his life in that way, Poppy thinks, so it shouldn’t matter what Katja feels about her. Not anymore.

“That’s okay, Poppy, thank you for listening to me reminisce. It was nice. Nico usually gets too embarrassed for me to talk about stuff like this.” Katja follows Poppy up, mirroring her to help her pack up the rest of the merchandise that hadn’t been bought or signed.

“I don’t think he could ever be embarrassed by you.” Poppy chuckles despite herself, defending him like it’s second nature, even though she knows Katja wasn’t trying to put him down in the first place. He’s her son, for crying out loud, Poppy thinks, she doesn’t need some random girl he works with acting like she knows him any better than his own mother. “He probably just doesn’t want to think about ever making you uncomfortable, even as a foetus or whatever.”

Katja gives that same knowing smile she had worn just before turning Poppy’s world upside down mere minutes ago. The smile that would be patronising on anyone else, but the warmth in her eyes holds nothing but understanding and appreciation.

“He’s a sweet boy,” she remarks, proudly, “I never thought of It like that."

“Yeah, you raised a gentleman for sure.” Poppy had considered that it would feel more like a lie when the thought had come to her head, but as the words leave her mouth, she finds comfort in them.

Despite how much he had hurt her, she still knows Nico’s heart. She knows he cares deeply, knows he is selfless and warm, and loves with everything in him. He just doesn’t love her - not how she wants him to, at least - but she can’t hold that against him forever.

The words weigh a little heavier when the situation dawns on her, but she tries not to get ahead of herself. Not again.

She can’t be pregnant. That’s insane. 

And she can’t rack her brain trying to remember if either of them had protected themselves with his mom sat right in front of her, she knows for a fact she can’t suppress the heat that rises up her neck at the memory - she may as well wave a gigantic flag that reads Hey, I had sex with your son!

“We’re heading for dinner when he’s finished here, would you want to join us?” Katja asks, motherly concern etched upon her features, and Poppy’s heart warms at the gesture in spite of the panic rousing in her chest.

“That’s alright,” she shakes her head, guilt plucking slightly at her with the telling of the minute lie, “I have plans with another friend.”

“We’ll be going home next week, so there’s plenty of time to catch up, if you’re free at all.”

Poppy can’t help but relent with a soft smile, nodding at the suggestion without overthinking it. She’d accidentally gatecrashed a couple lunches Nico and Katja had together in some of her previous visits, and she was always so welcoming and kind - it would hardly be putting herself out if she were to do it again. “I’d like that,”

“If you’re busy, Nina and Rino will be over for the Stadium game, don’t let them convince you to come out when I’m not there.” She jests with a pointed finger, and Poppy finds herself laughing despite her nerves. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good girl.” Katja reaches out and pinches softly at Poppy’s cheek, “Make sure you keep drinking plenty, and eating too, even if you feel sick you should try make sure you’re keeping your energy up. Try soup with lots of vegetables and bread. You can make it in a big batch and freeze it.”

Poppy can’t remember the last time her own mother had cared about her like this - not without belittling her, at least. When she’d spoken to her mom last week, had told her she was off work sick and couldn’t come over at the weekend, she had heard her roll her eyes over the phone. She’d been told that this is where eating poorly gets her, and that if she was keeping on top of her supplements and vitamin shots, she wouldn’t be so prone to illness. 

Even as a grown woman, with her own career, her own life, her own home, she still feels like a berated child when it comes to her mom. 

Nico’s mom makes her feel child-like in an entirely different way. In a way that’s warm and comforting, a way that wouldn’t give her anxiety every time her name comes up on her phone.

“I will, thank you for looking out for me, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Katja.”

Kindness comes like a second nature to Katja - to all members of the Hischier family she has encountered thus far - and a pang of jealousy and longing hits her at the realisation that some people have just been raised around this level of benevolence their whole lives, and think nothing of it.

Though, she knows Nico appreciates it.

Katja departs back through the doors into the Q&A with a soft smile and an enthusiastic wave, and Poppy waits until they have closed properly before she retrieves her cellphone from her back pocket.

Frustrated at the way it refuses to identify her face, she prods her fingers into the screen, typing in her passcode and swiping until she finds her calendar app. 

She knows she had an appointment scheduled in December with her gynaecologist. She had been in the middle of trialling a new contraception back in October - a sticky patch that had made her bleed continuously for 3 weeks and turned her into a raging nightmare to be around - and had stopped using it despite the 6 week recommendation she had been given, figuring she’d just wait out the rough periods until her next time she was booked in and speak to the doctor about it. But she’d been so busy in the back end of last year, she doesn’t remember how long it’s been since she stopped. 

Her eyes widen when she locates the appointment, clicking into the date, December 15th and reading the notes she left in there.

NEED TO RESCHEDULE!!!! busy w/ work, gynae breaks 4 xmas 22nd, comes back Jan 2nd.

She remembers the phone call as soon as she reads it. She had cancelled instead of rescheduling, knowing she was picking up extra work and would be busy until pretty much after the Christmas break. She was supposed to call in the new year. She’d gotten distracted. She hadn’t thought it was an emergency, it wasn’t like she thought she would need it for contraceptive purposes. And her periods hadn’t even been that bad since she stopped using it. Light flow, 21 day cycle, barely any cramps. She’d even been keeping a track of it, herself. She had nothing to worry about, which is probably why she hadn’t remembered to book herself back in. Hadn’t thought to start taking any other birth control in the meantime.

Her Cycle app is the next stop, flicking through the dates until she realises she was on her period after Christmas, and that the 10 or so days after that had ended were marked another colour, given another meaning.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. 

No, no, no.

This isn’t happening.

She’s jumping to conclusions.

It’s just a sickness bug from the takeout.

The dreams are just her broken heart playing tricks on her.

She isn’t pregnant.

She can’t be pregnant.

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)

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 22

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 22.

“I told you that trick shot idea was stupid!” Rory couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard.

“Eventually—” they started to argue.

He shook his head. “No, you did not get it to work eventually. You just sprayed a ton of bullets and managed to hit the target with one.”

“It was more than one!” They waved an arm back in the direction of their target practice. “You know you’re impressed.”

He was tired in the best way, in a way he hadn’t been in longer than he could remember. He was worn out just from having fun. They’d both done trick shots, competed in distance shots, and even done a bit of dueling. “I did so much better than you! I at least nicked the target every time.”

“What should I name it?”

Rory shook his head. He couldn’t believe they were still pretending their backwards shot was worth a damn. “Just admit you can’t do it, Stardust.”

They clucked their tongue in disapproval. “Don’t be sour just because you lost more duels.”

He held up an arm. “Okay, okay, I will admit you won more duels if you admit you can’t do that backwards shot.”

“Never,” they answered instantly. “You wouldn’t even try to be helpful!”

“I’m not wearing sunglasses to help you!” he said for the hundredth time.

They caught his arm. “Let’s just do a few more tries.”

He smiled and shook his head, no matter how tempting that sounded. “No. Even if we weren’t out of paint cartridges, we are definitely out of time.”

Stardust sulked.

“Trust me, you want to be out of here before the sun sets. This moon gets icy at night.” And they were both sweaty and covered in paint. He chanced a glance at them as they walked toward the ship. They were dripping in pink and green. “And really, at this point, I’m not sure if we could tell new paint shots from the old. You are covered. Although, I don’t hate that shade of green in your hair…” He reached out, rolling one paint-soaked lock around his gloved fingers.

They swatted his hand away. “You’re one to talk.”

“What? My hair? Oh shit… Did you have to use so much neon orange?”

“Orange is better than green. This shit might stain…”

“At least neither of us wore the jacket… We’d look like pirates in it if it was covered in all this shit.” And if that stained, it really would be ruined. No one but a pirate wanted to be mistaken for a pirate.

The gravel crunched and shifted under their boots. The wind had turned cold and the shadows long. It was going to feel great to get a hot shower and back into the steady hum of space.

“Cosmic…” they said, voice low, just as he noticed something was off.

He didn’t miss a step and neither did they, still walking that straight line toward their ship. “Fuck.” A figure was leaning against the canyon wall far off to the right, not even hiding. They wore gear for combat and a full mask, their riffle in their arms.

“To the right…” they said.

“Yeah, I see it… Just keep walking toward the ship.”

His heart pounded. They didn’t have any live ammo. They didn’t even have any paint rounds left. “There’s another one to the left,” he said, voice still low and steps measured. And there would probably be a third at the ship if this crew had the time to set up this trap…

“Who do you think they are?” Stardust asked and he heard the strain in their voice—trying to be casual when they too had to have realized how screwed they were.

“Probably bounty hunters… If we can get to the ship…” Two mercs stepped out of the shadows ahead of them and one continued right into their path. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Rory exhaled under his breath. “Okay, so that makes four. They must have been waiting for us to come back…” he said the obvious to fill the space. This was bad. There was too much distance and open ground. If he had bullets…

“I don’t suppose you have any live ammo left on you?” It seemed worth asking even when he knew the answer.

They shook their head.

“Keep walking. Straight toward the merc in our way. When we reach him, you make a run for the ship. Don’t look back. Don’t stop. Just run for the ship and get inside.”

“What?” The surprise in their voice was a gut punch to his senses. “I-I can’t get in without the co—”

Rory scoffed. “Oh, bullshit, I know you know the code to the door. Why are you arguing? Run. They won’t shoot you if they’re after that bounty.” Stardust was still wanted alive. He checked often just to make sure.

The shooters on their sides aimed, guns humming with life.

Stardust still wasn’t running, keeping slow step at his side. He was about to push them when they suddenly jerked to the side, in front of him and up close. For one delirious second he thought they were going to do their stupid trick shot… but they had no ammo and they weren’t even facing him. Their back pushed up to his chest and their arms spread.

Rory ground his teeth. “Stardust…what the fuck are you doing? Move!” He grabbed at their jacket, smearing paint, and tried to drag them to the side. The ground shifted loudly underfoot in that little skirmish. It seemed to confuse the mercs too.

“You said it yourself. They won’t kill me,” Stardust argued.

His heart twisted in his chest, until it felt like it was literally clogging his throat. “That doesn’t mean they won’t shoot you on accident if you act like a human shield!”

“Just keep walking forward but keep me in the way,” they said, like there was any chance in hell he’d do that.

“This isn’t a fucking game. Run,” he practically hissed in their ear, trying to shove them to the side. Why? Why wasn’t he considering it? Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t the worst idea. The mercs wouldn’t risk shooting a Solinoh. He might be able to use them to get closer. But he couldn’t.

“If I move they’ll shoot you!” they snapped.

Rory was afraid those words and the sound of their voice breaking under the strain of emotion would be echoing in his head for the rest of time. They shouldn’t sound like that. They should have left him standing there and saved their own skin. “So what if they shoot at me?” he yelled and shoved them away from him. “Run for the ship and the guns.”

They stumbled forward, paused for a second and then mumbled, “Okay,” before bolting forward, not at the ship, but at the merc.

“What? No—”

Stardust, unarmed and covered in paint, rushing a fully armed mercenary was enough to surprise everyone standing in that valley. The merc dropped his rifle to swing on the strap around his chest when he reached out to grab the primer coming at him. They twisted sideways, grabbing his sleeve to pull him forward. They used his weight and momentum to unbalance him, press into his side and grabbing his sidearm off his belt. Instead of firing it, Stardust tossed it high over their head.

Rory Atilla had brought down a corporation transport with nothing but mining explosives when he was a teen. He had chased off pirates from his parents’ farm with a nail gun. He had gotten onto a ship and escaped his burning homeworld and been on adventure every day since. But when he darted forward, dropping to his knees to dodge bullets and slide on gravel, arm out to catch that loaded weapon, he thought this might be the best moment of his life.

All the best moments were right on the edge of being the worst.

His heart pounded in his throat, not for the thunderclaps of gunfire or bullets skirting his body, but because in his periphery he saw his Stardust grapple a merc twice their size and go down.

He twisted to the side and shot twice at one of the attackers, having to turn to find the others before he could even see if the one to the right had dropped or not.

“Stardust!” he called through the storm of gunfire, needing the confirmation of their voice but not getting it.

Something hit his chest hard enough to push him back a step just as he was standing but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting back, emptying the pistol and dropping the two mercs to the left.

His legs shook when he started forward again. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, from that first shot to this moment. But it only took a second to die.

Stardust was on their back in the gravel under the big merc, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, and kicking at the ground while he slammed his heavy fist down into their face.

Rory closed the distance, ears ringing. Why had they done it? Why had they taken the risk? Why put themself in danger? “Get the fuck off them!” he heard himself roar when he threw his shoulder into the other man, tackling him off of the primer.

The wind screamed through the valley, the sun dropping lower with every second.

He punched him, practically climbing him to stay on top in a mess of a grapple. He had to get this done. He had to make sure Stardust was okay. Were they up? Had they still been moving after that last punch?

Why hadn’t they left?

The merc fisted one hand in the front of Rory’s jacket while the other pulled a big knife.

Rory already had his hands on the man’s rifle, twisting it against the strap to push the nozzle into his stomach. He held the trigger down and a volley of shots competed rang out.

As soon as the man collapsed, Rory unclipped the rifle and put a few more bullets in him before making a quick turn to see if anyone else was standing.

No one was.

Not even his primer.

[whltlock]

CHAPTER 1/10 ★ Masterlist ★ Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/AFAB!NB Reader, Minor Wally West/Reader

Summary: Jason's dead, so how is he in front of you right now?

Tags: vague soulmates au, jason has temporary amnesia, Jason/Reader Endgame, Fluff and Angst, post-resurrection, Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Past Relationship.

WC: 2,154

You take the same route you do most days from work to home. It’s dusk and because of that, the street lights have only just begun to flicker. The ones that work, at least. Usually you tune into the sound of distant ongoings: dog barks, the flutter of bird wings, and the more unsightly ones like glass shatters, shouts, shots.

Tonight, though, those sounds are drowned out by something more pressing. You’re keenly aware that you’re being followed. Even if you can’t hear their footsteps or see their shadow, the goosebumps and raised hair on every limb confirms it. It gets your adrenaline up.

Your gaze sweeps the street as you decide how to tackle your pursuer. They maintain enough distance that you don’t feel them on your heels yet. While the apartments above have lights on, the road is pretty desolate. There’s no one but you and your new acquaintance.

You’re more annoyed than anything. You don’t want to deal with this. You’ve never understood why someone would bother to mug a random pedestrian. They’re not likely to have anymore than you do.

Desperate times, you suppose. Although every third day feels like a desperate time in Gotham.

You duck down a laneway to give them a chance to realise their mistake.

You stop halfway through and look up at the windows with bars above. It’s a painful fifteen seconds before the figure approaches. The first thing you spot is how appropriately dressed they are in the darkest of shades: black boots, black hoodie, black pants, black gloves.

“Man, c’mon,” you sigh to yourself as they advance. Louder this time, you tell them, “You’ve got one chance to rethink this.”

The person—who you assume is a man considering his imposing build—pauses only momentarily.

When he paces forward again, you ready yourself to just get it over and done with. The quicker you put the imbecile on his ass, the quicker your ass gets to bed.

However, the muscles in your legs freeze in place, no longer able to swoop his weight out from beneath him.

It’s his eyes.

Something swims in the sea-foam glass of them.

Recognition of a past life.

Although it’s hard to get a proper look because of the hood, you know his eyes stay on you. Calculating. Confused.

You choke quietly on the two syllables: “Jason.”

His head tilts like he doesn’t quite understand. The knit of his brows draws your attention to the scars that glimmer silver under the moonlight.

Your heart pangs at the ghost in front of you. He looks so different compared to the last time you saw him, no longer a scrawny kid just learning about the gym. You’re not the same height anymore. He’s wider, bulkier. He’d be terrifying if you didn’t know him.

But his eyes weren’t always so green tinted. It’s different. It’s not the only thing that’s different.

You say his name again, disorientated. You watch him as much as he watches you.

His voice cracks as he whispers, “Why am I… here?”

That’s his voice. Deeper, but just as scared.

It’s the meanest trick anyone’s ever played on you.

You look beyond him to the main road. The only thing that comes to mind is shit, you got knocked out back there. Maybe you’re dying in the street right now. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

“You’re not here,” you say, more so to yourself. But you don’t want his apparition to go. You never wanted him to go. Missing him is entwined in the very fibres of your being.

“I’m not?”

You shake your head sadly. “You’re dead.” Your voice is barely audible, even in the vacant alley.

Jason’s eyes drop to his body. He surveys himself. A hand climbs towards his neck and he pulls at his clothes, uncomfortable.

You pat at your own skull, searching for a bloodied patch. “I wish you weren’t.”

His gaze snaps to you. “I don’t…”

He wants to say that he doesn’t remember. Anything. His mind’s fractured. Deep down, he thinks he knows you. He doesn’t know why. There’s flashes. One of them led him to you.

It hurts. There’s an ache in your chest as much as there’s one in his. His brain hurts, too. Like something hit him, hard.

Jason’s fists curl. You move closer and when his name rolls off your tongue, it slices into him. He steps back, troubled.

Jason must be his name, but he’s not sure he can trust it. Trust you. Even though his body yearns for your compassion.

You look sad. It makes him feel worse. You rub at your eyes, hoping the fog and fumes have just gotten to you. That when you blink your eyes open again, you’ll just have been passed out.

Jason’s still there when you do. Helplessly, he doesn’t know how to proceed. So he just turns and walks away.

You don’t stop him. Instead, you go straight home to bed.

You wait for the stupor to end; for the world to make sense again.

And you wait.

And you wait.

But nothing rights itself.

Jason waits, too.

And he waits.

But every morning he’s still drawn to you, tied to the hook at the end of an invisible fishing line.

You haven’t felt right since your encounter with Jason’s ghost, but you keep it to yourself. What’s anyone supposed to do, anyway? Everyone goes on with their days since his demise, so you have no other choice but to do the same.

You weren’t mugged because nothing was taken. You weren’t hurt, either. And yet, walking the same route makes you nauseous.

You do it anyway.

Despite how awful it feels, you’re compelled to stop in that damned laneway. It’s empty. Dark. Wet. Stinks of trash.

“Dead,” comes a voice from behind you. It makes you jump out of your skin, even though you know its owner. You whirl around. “I’m dead?”

Jason’s much closer this time. Only a foot apart. He wears the clothes you last saw him in.

It both is and isn’t a question. He doesn’t know. Fuck, he wants to know something.

He looks at you haplessly. As his eyes trace your skin from your temples to your collarbone, he feels the breeze of a faraway memory. Softness.

You swallow. “You were,” you whisper. “Don’t you remember?”

His voice is hoarse as he says, “No.” He’s scared, because while his mind might not remember, his body certainly does. Trauma’s laced into every cell at this point. He just can’t connect the dots. He thinks of death in colours: green and orange, black and blue.

Slowly, he raises a hand, palm out, gloved. An offer; another question. You look down. You meet him shakily as your fingers touch his. He’s there. Physical.

“Am I… real?” Jason asks. “Here?”

Dumbstruck once more, you graze over his palm. He holds the weight like a real person would. You prod at him to further test it. He rebounds easily.

“I think… you might be.”

It’s his turn to investigate. Your hands flip. He traces a vein to your forearm and feels your warm pulse. He can’t help but think I know you, even if it’s buried deep.

It’s when your fingertips slip under his sleeve and touch his bare skin that he jerks away like he’s been splashed with acid. He makes a choked sound. You chew on your bottom lip to keep the tears away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice strained. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. It’s raw, and this time it isn’t about the invasion. It’s about your failure. It unearths grief and love. “I missed you,” escapes, and it’s painful to hear and painful to say.

Jason’s head tilts. He swallows. The words keep him standing in front of you. He thinks you might mean it. It means something to him, at least.

When you look up, it’s with wet cheeks. He wants to cradle them and wipe them dry. The thought makes his own heat up.

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head stiffly. “None of it makes sense.” Admitting it makes him feel like a child even though he’s clearly aged since his last memories.

“Okay,” you say, deflated.

“I… I know you, don’t I?” he offers pitifully. He doesn’t want you to mourn him. “I feel like I do.”

You stare at him for a moment. You’re slow to nod. “You were my best friend.” You look at the ground unsurely before you say, “I can show you.”

Jason agrees. You take out your phone and scroll, then hand it to him. He finds an abundant digital album. He squints as he scrutinises each photo.

But he can’t deny what he sees. It’s him, and it’s you. Us.

A young version of you both. You don’t look as different as he does.

It’s when he scrolls too far that something more stirs in him. The image is compromising and vulnerable. A scan of a photobooth strip; a typical shoot that ends with an impassioned kiss, your hands indented into each other’s skin and tangled hair.

His thumb stays on the screen as he draws over it again and again.

“Oh,” is all he can say as he understands why he wants you above everything else when he’s fresh out of the grave. You’re home.

You’re nervous as you watch him. He looks up, gaze softer. Shockingly, his own nerves have eased, although he doesn’t know what to say.

Instead, you ask him, “Do you trust me?”

It gets caught in his throat on the way out but he says, “Yeah.”

“Come with me?”

“Where?”

“My apartment,” you say. Seeing him hesitate, you add, “You can shower. Or sleep. Eat.”

It’s both a win and overwhelming when he gives a rasped, “Alright.”

He follows you to your building, although he stays a few steps behind. You let him have the space. He probably needs it to absorb what he’s learned.

Jason refuses to shower or sleep but he does sit on the couch with you. You wrap a blanket around his shoulders so he can be more comfortable. It smells like you—like safety. He holds onto it tightly.

You feed him crackers and cheese and water. He nibbles, slowly, eyes moving between your face and the apartment. It’s well lived in. He thinks it must be a while since he’s been gone.

You talk to him in a soft tone like he’s fragile. He is, but it still hurts.

“Did you just… wake up one day?”

He looks at his fingernails. He’s washed the dirt and blood and grime from them time and time again, yet he continues to feel the stains. You notice and it puts a frown on your face.

“Yeah. Down there,” is what he says.

You have so many more questions, but you ask, “Where did you go after?”

Jason shrugs like it’s nothing. “Shelter,” he mumbles. “Old safehouse.”

You sigh, exhausted. Not because of him, of course, but the whole situation is a tragedy. You don’t know what to do. An inkling of doubt hides in the back of your mind: what if you really are imagining all this?

But you owe it to him to take it seriously. Help him. You loved him so damn much, after all. Even if it breaks you again.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, sensing your anguish.

“Don’t be,” you’re quick to comfort. “I’m glad you found me, Jason.”

There it is again—Jason. He swallows. He likes when you say it. It helps him feel more secure.

You peek at him from under your eyelashes. “I… I just don’t know what to do,” you sigh. “I could call Dick?”

The name echoes in his mind. He dredges through cleaved memories to figure out who that is. He must look confused because your mouth forms around the answer, although he beats you to it. He blurts out, “Grayson?”

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “Do you remember him?”

His face scrunches and his head hurts from trying to recall the man. “A little,” Jason says. “He’s my… brother.” However, as he realises the problem at hand, it sets off panic. “Don’t tell him,” he stumbles, “Please. I don’t—”

“Okay,” you murmur. You place your hand near his.

He looks pained as he says, “Don’t tell my family.” He doesn’t know why yet, but he knows he doesn’t want to see them.

You nod. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brush yours. “I… I wish I could remember you properly.”

“Maybe it’ll come back with time and rest,” you tell him gently. You’re hopeful. Out comes a yawn. “Do you mind if I…?”

“S’fine,” he shrugs.

“Will you stay?”

“Guess so.”

You smile at him feebly. “I’ll be over there.” You point to your bedroom. “Wake me if you need me.”

He nods.

Jason does stay, if only to cut himself on your sobs that last well into the night.

A/N: Weekly updates!

😁 Going to do a one-time tag in the notes for people who have enjoyed my previous works ->->->->

[xotaemintol]

2MIN x (fem) READER: Follow Our Body Rhythm PT1

“Get up, I don’t wanna fight your shadow”

TWS: mentioning of sex and mentions polyamorous relationships

PRONOUNS USED: She/Her

Word Count: 4168

Part: 1/5

Plot: After three long months of Minho avoiding you outside of sex, you are fed up and decide to make him realize just how badly he’s hurting you, and luckily Taemin who is unaware of your plan is right there to help you do it.

THIRD PERSON

As the morning sun peaks into the messy room you begin to stir in your sleep, you could smell Minho all around you, laced in his sheets and pillows his scent covering every inch of the bed and your body, it had been a while since you've gotten to wake up with him since he's been so busy lately, but after making time to see you he was adamant about you staying the night and eating breakfast with him, and you were happy to take the offer since it's been almost three whole months since the last time you stayed the night after sex. So as you smiled with your eyes still closed and started scooting backward, you expect to feel his body against yours, but as you continue to move back you only feel pillows. Immediately you open your eyes and look back.

"What the fuck..." You groan at the sight of a stack of pillows in the place of Minho's body with a note on top, realizing that once again he had left before you got the chance to see him and left only a note to explain what happened you slowly sit up and cover your naked body with the thin sheets, sighing as you snatch the note and reluctantly begin to read it.

"Sorry, had to step out for a few hours, a few friends asked me to see them and it's been a while."

You almost stop reading there as you become offended by his quick decision to leave you for his friends because it had 'been a while' You wanted to ball the note up, put on your clothes, and leave, but instead, you continue reading despite feeling that he doesn’t care.

"I know I promised that we'd have breakfast together but I really couldn't miss this, tomorrow morning I'll make sure we can have breakfast together."

You scoff and roll your eyes at this, he has been making that same promise for three months now, every time he would invite you over he'd ask you to stay the night so he could spoil you only to leave before you were able to wake up, he hasn't even had the courtesy to call or text, he just leaves a note and promises that next time he'll keep his promise. Instead of getting too upset to finish reading, you decide to read the very last part before leaving.

"I left my card for you, I was planning on taking you out today but unfortunately there was a change of plans, so feel free to spend till your heart's content, it's the least I can do after breaking my promise again, xoxo-CMH"

You exhale deeply and slouch back against the headboard, thinking about if you should just leave without taking his card, you consider that you could probably make him realize how much it hurt your feelings if you didn't even bother to eat and if you just went home and told him that you didn't want to see him tomorrow, but as you consider how careless he's been lately and recall the way he dodges even the slightest bit of affection, hardly texts back, and ignores your calls, you realize like that isn't enough. For a while you think about what would make him realize it, trying to figure out ways to make him see how even if you aren't dating, he can't just promise things and break them, nor should he prioritize something like meeting up with friends over keeping a promise. When you first started hooking up with Minho and learned about his lifestyle you thought that maybe he'd be putting going to the gym or work over you, but every time it's his friends and when it first started he said: "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel that way, I promise that it won't happen again." And you believed it.

But now as you sit naked on his bed with another handwritten note on your lap you think about if he ever really meant anything he's said, you start to think about how when you met his SHINee members and how they jokingly said that he'd probably be spending more time with his friends than you, and now you wonder if it was ever a joke. Your mind swarms with thoughts as your eyes begin to water, what had you been doing the past seven months? You can't tell if you stay because you enjoy the sex or if you stay because you enjoy the lifestyle. You love being able to have expensive things, being able to sleep with someone so caring and sweet, someone who cares about making you feel good, you love being around his SHINee members, meeting Jinki, Jonghyun, Kibum, and Taemin was amazing and getting close to them was even better, but now it seems like you spend more time talking to them than him. Whatever it makes you start questioning if it was worth it, of course, you don't plan to cut ties with Minho, you've found yourself way too attached to him to do something like that. But you still want to do something, anything that would make him value you more, like the way he used to when things first started.

"Maybe I should just drop it, what was I expecting anyways?" You say to yourself, you sluggishly get out of bed and cover your body with the sheet "I mean, it's only been seven months, we aren't dating or anything, it's just sex." Just as you say this your phone goes off, you expect it to be an update from Minho about what he was doing or maybe just a random notification from Instagram or TikTok, but instead, as you grab your phone from the nightstand you're surprised to see that it's a text from Taemin, this makes you laugh a little despite your teary eyes, between the five of them Taemin has been the one who keeps up with you the most, he texts you almost every day, sends you pictures, and will even let you tell him about your problems, surprisingly you’ve found yourself talking to Taemin more often than Minho.

‘You’re still at Minho’s right? I’ll pick you up if you are, just wait for me.'

You look at your phone confused as you wonder how Taemin would know that you were at Minho’s house since you never told him that you were going, nor did Minho to your knowledge, you also wonder why he would want to pick you up, you consider that he may want to hang out with you but it's only 9 am and Taemin is usually busy early in the morning, not only that but when you used to hang out with Minho and Taemin he was more likely to want to hang out around noon instead of in the morning, so you wonder if he had maybe originally planned for the three of you to hang out. It wouldn't be weird if that were the case anyway, the three of you have hung out together plenty of times and it’s never been weird or awkward, especially since he seems to take a strong liking to you, he even flirts with you and buys you things just because. But you can't imagine that Taemin would have made plans without letting you or Minho know beforehand, you know that’s not like him to do so it just doesn’t fit, so you text him back and ask.

‘How did you know I was here?'

Almost immediately he views your message and responds with: 'I just got off the phone with him, you don’t mind hanging out right?' That's when the perfect idea to make Minho realize that he should value you more hits you, luckily for you since Minho is completely aware of the attraction between the two of you it wouldn't shock him or hurt him to see you with Taemin, but it would make him question what made you change your mind when you denied his offer to allow you to do whatever you please with all of them, in your mind you felt that he'd maybe consider that he was doing something to upset you, so you decided to quickly get dressed and text Taemin saying: 'Of course not, it would make me feel a lot better to see you actually.'

Luckily for you even without you and Taemin ever having sex, he's quick to tell you yes and spoil you rotten, so you weren't at all surprised to see a text from him saying 'Im already on my way', instead you just continued to quickly dress and strip Minho's bed from its dirty sheets, as you wait you put his sheets in the washer and replace them with fresh ones, you've gotten so used to doing this for him so you didn't mind it.

TAEMIN'S POV

"Hyung, I thought you said that you were going to spend time with her this morning, what happened?" I ask as I lean back against the seat, it’s been months and Minho is still neglecting to be honest with Y/N, maybe I’m wrong for getting so upset about it but she seems so sad lately, and knowing that it’s over something that could be solved with a conversation frustrates me, he said that he wanted to spend all day with her today and that he missed her so much, saying that he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible today as he smiled and texted her about staying the night, but now he's not even there. "I got nervous, I realized that I can’t keep doing this after last night," Minho says, "It’s not just about sex anymore, I want to be with her, but it’s not that easy." As he says this I sigh, I saw this coming after that first month of them seeing each other, he started to see Y/N as more than just a person he has sex with, it only took four months for him to admit to actually liking her even though it was obvious from the start, but after admitting how he felt he suddenly stopped treating her the way he did before, and now at the drop of a dime he leaves her before she's even able to wake up and see him, he'll even take days to respond to her and leave her wondering what happened.

"Hyung, are you gonna start dating Y/N?" I ask, "She obviously like she likes you too, so what’s stopping you? If you keep waiting and putting space between the two of you and making her feel like it’s just sex then you’ll only make it harder for yourself." As I say this he sighs, I can hear his frustration as he does so, I don't blame him for being frustrated since it's not as easy as it seems to have a fling. "You still like her right?" He asks, "I mean, she likes us both, so if I started dating her then it would make things too complicated" He explains, "I tried to talk to her about it, but she says that she is worried that if she does start dating me that she'll still want you and she doesn't even know that you like her." I sigh myself, he's right, the complicated love triangle between the three of us makes it hard for all of us to decide what to do, even though I've never had sex with her we both still very obviously like each other, I flirt with her openly and she reciprocates openly, so it would be conflicting if they started dating.

"Then what are you going to do? You can't keep dodging her and spending less time with her because you're confused, you'll only hurt her more" I respond, "What if she gets so hurt that she doesn't even want to see you again?" Minho's silence tells me enough, I can tell that it's genuinely difficult for him to decide what to do and even what to say, we haven't felt like this over anything or anyone in years, but as soon as she came along it was like falling into a Venus trap, not only is she beautiful, but she's so kind and caring, she's honest, she's easy to talk to, and understanding. Of course, it's a minor issue that she's attracted to both me and Minho, but how could we blame her for that when we both tried to pursue her at the same time? If she's wrong then so are we. "You're on your way to see her right?" He asks, "Ask her how she feels about you and tell me how it goes, even though I already know the answer I think we should just make sure, so from there we can make a decision."

After saying this Minho ends the call leaving me with a mess of thoughts, I've never been the best at things like this so I don't know how exactly to even ask something like this, should I just outright ask and tell her that we're struggling to decide what to do? Should I admit that I know exactly why he's been so strange lately? Should I cut straight to the chase and ask her if she wants to date us both? What if she gets mad at me for not telling her sooner? What if she rejects the idea and stops seeing us both? I sigh and look out the window trying to clear my mind before we arrived, but as I do I see the outside of Minho's house.

THIRD PERSON

As your phone rings you smile seeing Taemins name flash across your screen, you pick up right away.

"Should I come up to get you? We're outside," He says, the smile you had on your face slowly fades as you notice from his tone that something is off, usually Taemin sounds excited to see you, usually it feels like you can hear the smile in his voice whenever he speaks but now it feels like something was wrong. "No, it's fine," You respond as you make your way downstairs, "I'm coming out now..." After saying this you hang up and make sure to lock up before stepping outside, the feeling of the fresh breeze against your legs makes you shiver despite its warmth, you hadn't even thought about how little you were wearing until now. Your short, low-cut dress hardly covered your thighs and breasts but it was what Minho said he wanted to see you in, and you hadn't left clothes at his house for a while now, so it was all you had.

As you open the door you smile a little seeing Taemin sitting there and his manager in the front seat driving, you expect him to smile back but instead, he just looks at you as you close the door behind yourself and put on your seatbelt.

"Good morning," You say hoping that it'll break the slightly awkward tension in the car, it's never felt so strange to be alone with Taemin, but now it feels like it's your first time meeting him all over again. "Good morning, how'd you sleep?" Taemin asks, you shrug and sigh as you cross your legs, you feel so exposed in front of him which is new, considering that he's seen you naked before it's weird that you feel exposed in front of him while fully dressed. "It could've been better," You respond, knowing that for your plan to work that you'll have to fight any awkwardness, you look at him with a soft smile and say: "I had a dream about you."

MINHO'S POV

After hanging up the phone with Taemin I sigh and lean back against Kibums couch while flipping through channels mindlessly, I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, it's like every time I see her it gets worse and worse. I have the urge to call it off and tell her that I don't want to see her anymore, but it's only because I want to be with her so badly and the sex isn't enough to hold me off anymore, of course, it's amazing but I don't just want to have sex with her. I want to go on dates, I want to talk about our future, I want to meet her friends and be introduced as her boyfriend, not just a guy she's sleeping with. But I know that she likes Taemin too and I know that Taemin likes her, so I don't want to make things official and then risk one of us being hurt when it could easily be solved by just something as simple as both of us dating her or both of us stepping back.

"Hey! Could you stop doing that?! It's been an hour, either watch something or turn it off, you're driving me crazy," Kibum says as he comes out of his

kitchen with two bowls, "Why are you this upset anyways? I thought you said you were going to just ignore things and let fate decide." As he sits down next to me he hands me a bowl of fresh fruit and spinach, I almost forgot that I even told him I hadn't eaten yet when I got here, he even went outside to pick all of this for us and I was so wrapped up in my mind that I didn't even notice him doing any of this. "Thank you," I say as I sigh, it's been like this every day now, I'm always too distracted by the thought of her to even notice what's going on around me. "If it's bothering you that much why don't you talk to her?" Kibum asks, "I mean, don't you think it's ridiculous to run here every time you sleep with her so you avoid possibly falling in love?"

I shrug and take a bite of the salad, "You know how I am, I mean, I like her but what if things get weird between me and Taemin? She'd be fine since she'd get to have us both, but what if Taemin feels unhappy?" I ask, my concern for his view of a polyamorous relationship isn't just overthinking, Taemin has constantly said that he'd want a girlfriend who only looks at him, although he jokes with fans about getting jealous he does seriously prefer a person who's only going to think of him. "Well, if he's already aware that you like her and that she also likes you, but he's still deciding to see her today then he must not be too upset about it," Kibum explains, "You know Taemin wouldn't do anything like this if he wasn't sure, and he'd be quick to say that he was unhappy or upset if he changed his mind." I nod, he's right, Taemin would speak up if he felt negative about it... "But how do you feel about it? Do you want to try something like that with both of them?"

TAEMIN'S POV

As the shower water starts to run I sigh and sit down on the couch, before she went to shower I wanted to talk to her and ask how she felt but it didn't feel right, how am I even supposed to ask anyways? What should I ask specifically? I huff and pout my lips as I begin to scroll through Instagram again, maybe it's not too bad if I don't ask at all, I could always find out another way since I have a whole day alone with her, even though I don't exactly know what we'll do I can figure out how to find out without asking.

"What should we do anyways?" I ask myself aloud, I look up as I start to think of places that she might want to go, luckily from all of the time spent with her and Minho, I've learned her favorite foods, stores, and spots so it would be easy to just choose from those. But I feel like doing something different would help me get an answer a lot better than just doing things that I know she likes, if it goes well then not only would I have an answer but I would also learn more about her which would be helpful since I only know a select few things that she likes. I smile a little at the thought of finally getting time to figure out how she really feels and it going well, with newfound confidence I decided to start looking for places in the area she hasn’t been to so that everything will go smoothly.

THIRD PERSON

As you step out of the shower you wrap the soft white towel around your wet body you feel like you can hardly relax, and as you walk yourself through your plan to seduce Taemin without making things awkward you only tense up more. In your head it sounds simple to just walk out into the living room and drop your towel, you could easily tell him that you’ve wanted him for a while now, and sit on his then and there without having to put in any effort. But you want to be able to maintain your relationship with both Taemin and Minho and throwing yourself at Taemin right after sleeping with Minho, to you it will just come off as you using Taemin to feel better, which at all what you want to do. So instead you spent your time in the shower thinking of how you'll slowly lure him in, you don't want to make things too complicated but you want to make a point to Minho that if he's going to treat you like you're only here for sex then you'll treat him as if you feel the same way.

As you step onto the mat on the floor you look in the mirror, your reflection blurred by the fog as you sigh and try to calm your nerves while whispering to yourself: "Taemin is attracted to me...he wants to have sex with me, so at least it won't fail..." As you say this though you start to feel a slight sense of disappointment but with no exact reason as to why, you ignore it and try your best not to upset yourself and throw yourself off, so before you can start to overthink anymore you open the door to leave but stop seeing him standing right outside the door with your clothes.

"Sorry, I just wanted to give you your clothes," He says, as you look up at him you fail to keep your cool and become awkward again. Despite the confidence that you have in him wanting to have sex with you it's hard to ignore how intimidatingly attractive he is, not to mention that you have feelings for him, it would be easier to just pull him into the bathroom and sit him down so you could ride him if you didn't have feelings for him, then you wouldn't have to worry about being in the same position you are with Minho with Taemin too, but since you know that you have genuine feelings for him you don't want to make things worse for yourself so you just smile at him and take the clothes. "Thank you..." You say trying to hide the shyness that begins to creep up on you, "I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't decide what to do so we'll just go to a few different places if that’s okay with you." As he says this you smile even more, this is why you love spending time with Taemin, he always surprises you by being spontaneous with his planning but keeping it simple enough for it to be relaxing.

You wish that Minho could be here too since Minho always adds a flare that makes things feel so exciting, while Taemin is more spontaneous and will let fate decide where you go, Minho will plan out multiple different places, and you love both of those things but they are even better when paired together since Taemins spontaneous ideas work perfectly for the hour-long stops that Minho plans. If Minho planned to go bowling and Taemin notices a place to eat that you've never tried before then you get to do both, you love the way they work together and while they are both enough alone, you can't help but become saddened by the thought of Minho becoming less attracted to you which in your mind explains why he won't spend time with you outside of sex.

"That's fine," You respond with a half-hearted smile at the sudden thought, while it saddens you to think of you still want to make him realize how you feel, so instead you tell Taemin that you'll be out soon and close the door so you can get dressed.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Okay so I know that you said that you want Shadow to be alone at the end of Sonic 3, but do you have another ending that you thought of too?

Ohh yeah! I’ve got one😈

The scene takes place towards the end where Shadow falls to Earth and, supposedly, is on the verge of dying. The day’s saved—yadda, yadda, yadda—but you still have that horrific scene like in SA2. In Shadow’s POV, we see him falling and reach out to a crying Sonic that holds a spare inhibitor ring. Shadow’s vision fades to black and leaves the audience wondering what happened to him.

Seconds later, we see from Shadow’s POV where he wakes up in the Wachowski home on the couch. Everyone is there. They all stayed close to his side and fell asleep waiting for him to wake up. Shadow spends the entire time thinking, “wasn’t I supposed to die? What happened?” It cuts over to Sonic, who’s a bit banged up from the adventure, and smiles seeing him. Sonic welcomes him back from the dead, and sits with him for a bit to chat. I haven’t ironed out those details yet, but it leads them to talking all night. And finally Sonic goes, “can I show you something?”

Sonic helps him up from the couch and takes Shadow to stand outside on the roof top to watch the sun rise. They get a great view of the mountains, the trees, all of nature! Shadow’s moved while watching the world wake up. Sonic’s preoccupied with watching Shadow fall in love with the planet, not people. This is important; Shadow finally understands why Maria loves Earth so much. His query with humans is resolved at a later date.

Shadow finally says, “I’ve got it wrong.” This is also important. This is his way of saying “I’m sorry” without saying the actual word. His actions are enough for people to understand that whatever happened in the third film were not entirely his to begin with.

Sonic gives him a pat on the shoulder and goes, “we get things wrong at times, but what makes us better is that we learn from mistakes. This can be your home too if you want it to be.” Again, it doesn’t need to be these words exactly. That little blurb is meant to convey a mood that Shadow has a second chance.

Shadow and Sonic continue to watch the sun rise over Green Hills before everyone wakes up. We don’t need to have an answer right away to earth being Shadow’s home. It leaves enough wiggle room for the SCU crew to decide whether or not they want to do a fourth film or not.

Shadow needs to be on his own for a while. This would be a good point in time to let him go off on his own and rediscover a few things. When he’s ready, he’ll return to Sonic and his family. But for now, everyone has to trust that he’ll be okay in the long run.

[dujour13]

eros 3 & 4 and philautia 1 & 2 please!!

Thanks Romeo 💕💕

Putting a disclaimer on this again - this only goes for my own little headcanon version of Woljif!

Eros 3

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Woljif has a complicated relationship with this. Once he starts getting affection he craves it like a starving man, but it takes him a long while to be ok with public displays. His tough guy appearance is part of his survival gear and getting butterfly smooches from an azata will undermine that pretty quick.

Eventually as word gets out about his relationship with the chief, and he simply can’t keep up a front against Sia’s overflowing affection, he’s more able to take it in stride. That also has to do with finding acceptance over the course of his adventures and not having to be as afraid of looking vulnerable.

Eros 4

Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone?

Woljif will laugh in your face if you ask him this, and then quickly find something else to do so you won’t see him blush. If you can get him to, he might confide he’s had a couple crushes. In my hc when he was a teenager there was a human girl who sold apples at the market, and although they never had a chance to talk he got a good vibe from her because she didn’t raise a fuss when he stole an apple or two. Coincidentally she had honey-colored hair, not unlike a certain bard. That came to a sudden end when he jumped out of a dark alley to introduce himself and didn’t realize until too late what effect that might have. So no – he doesn’t. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight with Siavash, either. “Hey Dreamboat” was obviously a ploy, even if the bard really was kind of a dreamboat. He developed a crush pretty fast after that and recognized it as such, but still kept telling himself it was because Siavash would make a good business partner.

Philautia 1

Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

Oh the killer question for my boy 😭 On the one hand he’ll yell himself hoarse about how unfair a tiefling’s lot is in Mendev, but on the other he’s internalized that he’s inferior by nature. I hc that he’s even a little bit scared of the Abyss within and creeped out by his own shadow. And of course he’s heard nothing but denigration from all sides since childhood, abandoned by his parents, hollered at and neglected by Gran, hounded by Crusaders, and that kind of thing sinks in after a while. His whole arc is learning through the Crusade and his relationship with Siavash that he’s worthy of being loved.

Philautia 2

Does your OC believe that it is important to love themselves in the first instance? Perhaps in order to be able to give and receive love authentically? Or because they believe first and foremost in "looking after number one"?

His obvious answer to the first and third questions is Hells yes, you have to look out for number one. But if you follow up with the second question he’d have a hard time answering, because it’s only at the end of the Crusade that he begins to believe he deserves love, and also begins to be able to give it unconditionally, and I don’t hc him as having much EQ, so I don’t think he could articulate the connection between those two things. He has to believe his heart is worth giving before he can give it, but I think he only knows that on a gut level.

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil’s Den

Chapter 19: In Which Quiet Confessions Are Loudest

You can read this also on Ao3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

You watched Alcina leave in silence but in your head you were screaming.

She had kissed you with severity; a reverence she'd not shown you before and you wanted to cry.

And argue.

Fight her to stay. The need to keep her close violent and protective.

Holy shit, your emotions were suddenly unsupervised teenagers who found energy drinks and a pile of candy.

They. Were. All. Over the place.

There was a lingering in her eyes in the split second before she vanished, and in that moment you wanted to say it. You wanted to tell her all the things you'd felt for so long.

You wanted to tell her you loved her.

But you couldn't. And didn't.

Fucking why?

In the midst of the barrage of pin-balling thoughts and feelings you watched her depart with such great hesitation you almost jumped out the window after her.

Please don't go. I can buy black out curtains for every window in this apartment; I'll make it sun proof, completely safe so you can stay. We can just hole-up here and forget everything. Stay - just stay with me, stay. Or take me back with you - or even if I can't be in the underground, take me somewhere closer so I can get to you faster, so you can get to me faster, so we're not so far away. I have no idea where you even go when you leave me, but please, don't go. Please just stay. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Your mind rambled as your heart kept bursting with some concoction of whatever the fuck you were experiencing.

She vanished into the darkness but your eyes followed an imaginary path until you couldn't any longer.

With an exasperated huff you tore yourself from the balcony and went back inside.

Your bed was a mess. Sheet haphazardly hanging off one side, pillows smushed against the headboard, some on the floor, bedspread... location currently unknown. It gave you a slight smile remembering the fun it took to get it looking this way. Your body was still heavily buzzing with euphoria, so much so you were almost at the brink of overstimulation. You were covered in everything her; smudged lipstick, bite marks, smell, taste, sensation of her hands and fingers and lips and tongue and body pressed into yours - it was dizzying, But, still... elation was heavily leaned upon by a shadow.

And you were pretty fucking sure it's name was Mother Miranda.

Alcina's story was much more vague than what you felt you saw in your head when she told you about the scar. For some reason it seemed as if you had slipped into a dream and witnessed it via third person. Almost like you could smell the cell Miranda locked her in, feel the pain in your own neck from each syringe prick, feel the sluggish tug in your muscles from the exhaustion and hunger she must have felt herself. You still couldn't expunge the images, nor the rage and fire in your chest.

If you ever got the chance to kill Mother Miranda, you'd take it.

Your own death imminent, or not.

Eventually you plopped back on your bed face first. Nuzzling your nose into your mattress that smelled heavily of Alcina. Sandalwood, vanilla, sex and sensuality. It gave you relief. Solace, for a brief time at least.

~

For how long.

Yes. Alcina wondered that too.

That was one thing about being undead, she got to think. She got to think a lot.

All the time in the world to do so many things; travel, experience, taste blood from anyone she wanted, kill, destroy, make, learn, and think.

Leaving you tonight was hard.

Neither of you were safe. But she'd do anything to keep you secret. Keep you safe.

She walked with little purpose, no urgency in her steps, just bearing the load of thoughts and questions with no answers or solutions. At least, none that she was willing to accept.

New York in the early morning before daybreak was her favorite time in the city. It was still dark. Very few people bustling here and there. Something about the deep breath before the chaos of humanity ran amuck was like stumbling upon an undiscovered world only very few would ever know. She felt she could be seen here, in the now; show her face to anyone she stumbled upon and feel safe to let down her walls towering so high. Night owls flocked and mingled silently together without judgement, always.

The few who passed her on her trek to the church regarded her with wandering, curious eyes. And oh how she missed being able to bask in the innocent attention without fear of repercussion. Still, as much as she wanted to feel desired again by any who looked upon her, truly, all she wanted now was to be left alone. She wanted another life. But how many are lucky enough to be granted more than one chance? She had been. Asking for a third was greedy at best.

Alcina met a clergyman as she entered the side door of the church. He took one look at her, stiffened, dropped his gaze, painted an invisible cross in front of himself as if this blessing would save him from her, and quickly scattered off into another room. She smirked. Christians were peculiar folks. Every priest in this place knew about the vampire city underground, their comings and goings from their own church, and still after all these years they treated them as if they were Satan's spawn or Satan himself. So odd. So silly.

But she knew nothing of God or the Devil. Those two were as good as any fictional characters in any book. Her undead life skewed her already tattered view of the world, so who was she to judge their reaction. Her soul was as good as damned in their eyes, which meant nothing to her. She wasn't so sure she had a soul to begin with. As a human, her god was money, her beauty, sex, drugs, alcohol, things that made her feel anything other than pain. As a vampire, her god was time. That's all there was on this side of the fence.

Where was God when her human body was failing and she was dying?

Where was the Devil when she crossed the barrier of life and death to live immortally?

Where was salvation on any end of the spectrum?

The pew creaked as she sat to admire the stained glass. The colors were muted. Nighttime colors. No sun to illuminate the brilliant craftmanship of each hand painted chunk of glass, only the light from the chandelier above to bask in for her eyes to witness.

Mary looked lovely. Innocent. But burdened. The weight of the world placed upon her shoulders.

Alcina sighed.

Somehow, she felt it too.

How scandalously blasphemous, she thought.

She was no saint, no God-fearing woman, not one religious or pious notion about her. How could she possibly compare her woes to that of this woman, this Divine Mary?

Oh my hell, since when did this pretentious bullshit become a part of my subconscious, she scoffed.

"Cutting it close to dawn, aren't we?"

Came a voice that made her eyes roll.

"Spare me," she replied flatly and rose, turning to the familiar priest who was dwarfed by her height in the aisle next to the pew.

He stood there solidly. His white robes starch and crisp like his thin white hair.

His aged face peered up at her knowingly, "if you don't it like here, why do you spend so much time looking at it?"

Alcina didn't bother to hide her unamused facade.

"Does it matter? It's pretty to look at and it's quiet, I like quiet."

"Mmm, perhaps you might remind your... fellow comrades about the quiet factor. There have been several happenings lately that have disturbed my priests into the night."

"Noted," she stated briskly pushing passed him, annoyed already at the news as she waltzed up the aisle.

"Lady Dimitrescu..." he called after her.

Stopping, huffing, and giving the slightest acknowledgement over her shoulder at him, Alcina clicked her tongue, "yes, Father Sullivan?"

"I look forward to our upcoming meeting... and, please remember; all are welcome in God's house. All. Always."

If she could sprain her eyes from rolling them too hard this might have been the moment.

Alcina gave him all but a curt nod and began to leave. Annoyance kicked up the pace of her steps as she rounded the corner and headed for the underground entrance.

'All are welcome.' Please. As if I hadn't tried your ways when I was human. It didn't save me then and it's certainly not going to save me now. How fucking cocky. If it weren't for us vampires this church of yours would've shut down 20 some odd years ago. Our quid-pro-quo is the only thing keeping this place afloat and that's the only reason for your generosity. Our money in exchange for safe passage to our city beneath your feet. Please... you insufferable fool.

Alcina's thoughts continued to scoff and bicker. She hated dealing with the church almost as much as she did city officials. Everyone was crooked in their own ways, and money was always the bending factor. And the vampires? They had plenty.

The underground city wasn't powered simply by accident. When they were found out by an electrician and city official in the early 1900's, Mother Miranda decided to work with the humans. Money for endless power, no questions asked, and no one gets hurt. Alcina hadn't been around when the agreement was set, but as Matriarch the responsibility became hers. She trusted none of them, and it irked her to play kiss-ass to keep the peace treaty.

As she furthered her trek into the city, the more and more she thought, the more and more suffocated and claustrophobic she felt.

She didn't want any of this anymore.

All these responsibilities.

The work. The title.

To live here like a prisoner who was simply glorified by being dressed in jewels and power.

There was no freedom here.

All she wanted was her daughters, and you.

A life far away from here where you could all be free and do as you pleased.

Now there was a thought; the 5 of you living together in a whole new city, perhaps the country, somewhere far off the beaten path so no one could ever find you all. A human and 4 vampires, living a life of pure chaos she had no doubt. Alcina pondered how you and her girls would get on - with very little convincing in her mind she assumed they would be just as enamored with you as she was. Daniela would be nothing but curious and fascinated by you, eager to hear all your stories and wish to take you on adventures with her like a new-found best friend, ready to cause mayhem and trouble. Bela would be intrigued by your depth and views of the world, wishing to philosophize with you and explore books and theories galore. Cassandra... Well, Cassandra might be a little tougher to crack. But the two of you may easily be the most alike; hard on the surface, but loving and protective of those you care about, able to see the bigger picture and each angle to a situation, the ability to play devil's advocate but still hold the highest good in your heart. Alcina knew you two could have a bond very likely stronger than with the other two, if Cassandra would have it.

But then, there might be a slight awkwardness about the fact it was her daughters that caught you in the first place to be killed at the club that night.

She pursed her lips at the scenario to stifle her laughter.

"Is something quite amusing?"

Salvatore's voice instantly sent her lighter mood diving off a cliff into a ravine of pissed off.

She stopped dead in her tracks on the cobblestone, tongued her teeth and turned her head slowly in his direction.

He was standing so matter-of-factly in the nearby alley, leaning on the side of the building with his hands in his blazer pockets. Face, smug but tentative as to the fact he knew he was poking a bear that not only bit but killed at will if provoked just enough.

Alcina's eye glinted as they narrowed and she feigned a dangerous smirk.

"Is it any business of yours?" she asked, her voice low with a hint of sourness.

He shook his head gently and shuffled on his feet but didn't move, taking a hand mindfully and running it over his thinned greasy dark hair, fingers tracing his mustache thoughtfully before he took in the sight of her better.

"I see you're out and about again," he mused, "now that Mother Miranda is gone, your feeding schedule is back on track?"

He was awfully cocky for her liking right at the moment, in fact she didn't care for his sudden change in demeanor at all. Salvatore was always sheepish, shy, very mild and weak-mannered, especially around her. It was rare the man ever addressed her directly at all, not in passing or in council, so this, this was new.

Alcina felt the fire in her chest stoke at his questioning and she stepped towards him slowly, watching him calculate his standing as she moved towards him. She could smell the tension puff off around him.

"Perhaps I shall reiterate; what business is it of yours what I do at all?"

They were face to face now. Alcina staring down at him, eyes alight with temptation, begging for a reason to slice his throat and be done with his sniveling, groveling, sneaky, fake ass-kissing bullshit.

He swallowed.

"S-simply making conversation," Salvatore expanded gently, "Mother Miranda takes a lot out of all of us when she visits -uh -" he swallowed again, "you seem to be rebounding well, that is all."

More games. What the fuck was he after with this conversation?

Her eyes narrowed once more.

"I do believe I discussed this with Mother Miranda the day she left... I recall explaining to her that if you gave as much effort to things that mattered, as much as you do sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, you might actually accomplish something of importance..." Alcina took one more step closer and lowered her voice even more, "as it stands, I will not give you another warning; mind your own, Salvatore. You don't give a shit about me or my well-being, and I wouldn't give a fuck even if you did. Take your fake sincerity and nonsense 'conversation' elsewhere."

Straightening her back, Alcina studied his well manicured facade of stability and sneered.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I have to get home to my daughters."

She bade him no good day and left him standing there with quivering knees.

She didn't like that exchange one bit and stewed on it the rest of the walk back to the manor.

Whenever Mother Miranda visited he found some semblance of a cocky attitude that was always out of place. But this felt a bit too different.

Too exhausted to care much more about it Alcina made her way to her chambers and began turning in for the day.

She needed sleep just as much as she needed you there beside her in her bed. Unfortunately she'd have to settle for thoughts and dreams about it instead.

-

Saturday felt unusually alive for you. It was around noon when you woke but you were energetic and starving.

Mmm. Good sex will do that.

You grinned as you shuffled out of bed smelling your lover as if she was still there with you.

Taking a quick shower and donning some comfortable clothes you headed out into the city to find something to eat.

Odd thing was, nothing really sounded good.

Greek? Nah. Indian? Meh. Pizza? No. Bagels? Mmm... nah. Ethiopian? Nah. Sushi? No.

You walked for a couple blocks until you came upon a little market vendor full of fresh fruit and veggies.

Score.

Filling up your backpack with your favorites you paid and tipped the kind old lady, she winked at you and you meandered off back home with a bag of giant plump red grapes in your hand, munching away to your hearts delight in the warm summer sun.

A muffled ruckus caught your attention as you walked passed an alley and as you peered down it you noticed a group of crows bickering and fighting over an old beat up pizza box. The contents of it's old, moldy crusts and who knows what else was being picked at with attitude. You knew bread isn't great for birds to be eating and you looked down at your beautiful bag of grapes with a sigh.

Two crows began to really get into it with each other as both thought the biggest left over crust should obviously belong to the one of them, and you hollered down the alley.

"Now that's enough of that," you called as you slowly walked your way towards them.

Instead of scattering the group simply regarded you as you approached, shuffling back and away a little before you knelt and gently tossed a large clump of grapes their way.

"Listen, lay off the carbs, I know its addicting but I'd rather you not die of malnutrition or whatever... I'll share, how bout that?"

Yeah. You were talking to birds. So what.

As you stood and began to walk away they all converged on the fruit and ate with pleasure.

You smiled and made your way back home. Good deed for the day, done.

You couldn't help your thoughts as they wandered while you walked; you wondered what Alcina was really like as a human, what your lives could be like if you'd met back then, all the time you could spend together and all the things you would do. Thinking about walking hand in hand with her through the city, catching an opera at the Metropolitan Opera Theatre, adventuring through Central Park, maybe traveling the rest of the world like she had always dreamed... maybe the two of you would have found the perfect flat, or cottage, or penthouse to settle down in, get a cat or a dog or have a farm with a horse or two and just... be together for the rest of your lives.

Somehow the glee and lightheartedness of the thoughts turned somber as you walked through your door.

The rest of your lives.

You were human, she was immortal.

Shoots that concept in the face a little, doesn't it.

Unless...

Noooo, no, nope. You weren't sure you'd make a very good vampire. You liked the sun and food and freedom to live in the day and night and stuff.

But then again, if you were with Alcina, maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe you could get used to being on the arm of the Grand Matriarch of the vast vampire underground. It would sure give you a lot of time to learn all the things you wanted to learn, read all the books you wanted, never have to have a 9 to 5 job ever again. Ooo... that idea you liked a hell of a lot.

But truthfully, the thought you liked the most was being with her, forever.

~

Evening was settling in fast as the sun started to tuck itself into bed. You plopped your beanbag chair out on the tiny balcony and lounged while reading another book, patiently waiting for your Lady of the Shadows to join you.

When the sky turned too dark to read you simply leaned back and emersed yourself in the night. Listening. Smelling. Feeling. Closing your eyes and being completely present in the now.

You were so immersed in the zone you almost thought you could sense Alcina near. Could smell her perfume on the gentle wafting breezes like so may times before, only now you felt you could hear her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk as she approached, hear the inaudible splitting of the atmosphere as she leapt through it to scale your building and gracefully climb up onto your balcony -

"Draga mea."

Her voice startled you and your eyes shot open.

Alcina's beautiful knowing smile met your gaze and you couldn't help but mirror it.

Well that was oddly and perfectly timed.

"Hey you," you lilted as you rose and met her for a slow embrace.

She smelled so wonderful you breathed her in deep as you could, holding her tight as she did the same.

Not wishing to break the embrace but needing your lips, Alcina carefully pried the two of you apart and claimed them. Soft, gentle, thoughtful kisses as she cupped your face now with her cool hands.

"I've missed you," she confessed with a whisper.

"Me too," came your reply just as softly, pulling back to admire her pale slate colored eyes, "sometimes the days feel like weeks, not gunna lie."

Alcina chuckled lightly as she caressed the side of your face, all her worries and fears and unwanted thoughts long gone, fought off by your beauty and calming aura.

"If you only knew," her smile was warm and bright, eyes twinkling with a thought, "would you care to spend some time on the roof with me, draga mea?"

"I will spend time with you literally anywhere."

Her toothy, brilliant smile was the last thing you saw before your surroundings blurred and she was carefully releasing you from her grasp on top of the building.

The silent cuddling on the couch was blissful. She was tucked into the crook of the plush chair arm, your back pressed to her chest, her long arms draped over you with her hands resting comfortably on your front, her cheek pressed to the side of your head as you both relished in the comfort of your own little world hidden above everyone and everything.

Minutes turned into hours and your unspoken conversations finally came to an end.

"Alcina," you said, tracing your fingertip over Alcina's long elegant digits that rest over your chest.

"Yes?" came her soft reply.

Your eyes darted to the scenery before you, slightly hesitant to continue.

The dull amber glow below the buildings was gentle on the eyes. The towering blackness of these structures broken apart here and there by night owls burning the midnight oil, the little glowing squares beacons of life in the otherwise dark sky. Somehow, even though you were surrounded by life, it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. It made your heart sputter.

"You and I..." you began again, "are we... what... what are we, exactly? Where is this going?"

Alcina blinked long and hard.

For a vampire, there was no need for definition of something, no need for timelines, no use for direction. Being a vampire was all about simply being. Because truly that's all there really was to do.

You were different. Of course you would want and need clarification, a plan, or at least a destination. You didn't have all the time in the world.

She sighed.

She didn't have answers.

"I... don't know draga. I had not planned for you, and I don't hold expectations of you... I only know what we have."

That... wasn't what you were looking for.

Carefully you pulled away and faced her in the darkness, studied her expression that was open and settled, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not trying to complicate anything, I just... I don't know, I guess... maybe I'm trying to understand what we are to each other, help my mind process the feelings I have and... know in return where you stand."

Oh, you were such a complex, intelligent and deeply feeling human. You were everything she wished she could have been when she was alive.

Her heart lurched for you at your timid admission.

Alcina reached for your jaw and cupped it, considering you with all her might as she desperately fought to know how to say what she wanted to, or if she should, or what lay in the hidden doors of the very uncertain future before the two of you. She knew that's what you wanted to know, she knew you were wanting to understand what there was beyond the horizon of today, and she had no more right to tell you what she didn't know than she did keeping you in the dark.

You deserved honesty. Transparency. Only the best of everything.

Your name fell from her lips like a confession, Alcina's hesitancy to drop every guard for you putting a hitch in her words only briefly, "you..." she stalled once more, feeling the overwhelm try to sink her to the bottom, it had been so long since she had felt this way, "you are dearer to me than I feel I can make you understand... I don't have answers to where you and I are going, I don't have answers to what lies in the future, but I do know that my feelings for you are real. You are not replaceable, you are not disposable, and you are not a thing of pleasure for me to use and discard. I - "

Say it, Alcina, say it goddammit.

The words were stuck in her throat and she didn't know how to get them out.

Her flooding of emotions was pelting you like a hailstorm. Torrential, overpowering, sending you into the same careening overwhelm until you couldn't handle it anymore.

You gripped the hand that was still clasped to your jaw and inched closer, watching her chained up expression silently begging to be let loose.

In a breath you leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Pulling back just enough to utter the words you wanted, needed to.

"I love you, Alcina Dimitrescu. That's it. That's all I really want you to know."

Oh, god.

Alcina felt the piercing warmth of your admission split her armor in half, releasing the pent up flood that was imminently due to happen eventually.

Releasing the breath she had on a short leash she pressed her forehead to yours and closed her eyes as she tried to stabilize the crumbling sure-footing she thought she could be able to keep. She'd wanted to hear those words from you more than she ever wanted to admit. And here they were.

"I love you too, draga mea," she whispered, unable to keep it sealed behind her lips any longer, "I love you too, so very much."

The explosion of fervor between the two of you could have crumbled marble walls.

You fell into her and she couldn't have pulled you closer. Your lips danced and danced until a fang sliced your red and swollen bottom lip. Alcina licked hungrily at the wound and the wildfire only began to spread.

Urging her on you broke the impetuous kiss and craned your neck by her mouth, breathlessly telling her to take it, to drink, to knot the two of you together in this passion until it was too much for the both of you.

Alcina's desire took hold and she sunk her teeth in, gorging herself on your blood that made her feel more alive than ever before. Your moans and pleasure and pain fueled her need and soon she had you beneath her on the couch.

She licked and kissed at your wound and trailed her lips to yours once more, tenderly brushing them over yours that were softly panting.

"Can I keep you, draga mea?" she whispered to you, "Will you be mine?"

Weaving your way through the euphoria of her bite, you smiled at her request, beaming with pride to hear it.

"Yes, keep me, I'm yours... all yours."

[personne-writes]

Third challenger

There are no curtains, this time; no stage or spotlights. 

Only the clear, open sky, the wide arena of grass and the brightness of a sunny afternoon. 

No frills. No distraction. Nowhere to hide.

Donatello is starting to get pumped up. 

At the center of the stadium, two figures stand across from one another. They look small, frail even, in the middle of such an impressive volume. He knows the extra space will be much needed, though. 

The cameras turn to him, the speakers announce his name, and he confidently steps out of the shadows. The public in the stands welcome their third challenger with renewed fervor. 

It had escaped his understanding, these terms in the tournament reglementation. Up until the last minute, he’d thought he had secured his third place by winning the Wheel of Doom, and that was it.

The excited screeches of his family when he’d been told to get ready for the grand finals still ring in his skull. 

Applauds rain over him as he gets closer to his rivals. Stopping at a respectable distance, he makes a show of flipping his tech bo before tapping it to the ground in a practiced hero pose, purple pixels flaring up around him, and the crowd roars.

He feels a smirk spread onto his face. 

“Donatello-san?!” 

“Hi, Mob,” he answers with his best too-cool-for-you attitude. “Enjoyed the rest?”

“What are you doing here?” the boy blurts out. 

“Rude. You see, apparently beating someone once doesn’t necessarily result in his direct elimination.”

“It doesn’t?” 

“Well, here I am, aren’t I?” 

The surprise on Kageyama’s features morphs into something decidedly amused. 

“Heh. I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t give up so easily.”

“Damn right,” Donatello grins back. 

“So, Donnie-san, are we allowed to team up, or -”

“AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO'S READ THE RULES?” the other opponent interjects, voice bold and cheeky. “THIS IS A SOLO DEATHMATCH SITUATION, NOT A TEAM-UP BOSS BATTLE.”

Donnie turns to the skeleton. He has taken some time to learn about him, of course: hard-working, keen on hindrance, element-of-surprise enthusiast. 

The handmade costume and bright, toothy smile only raise more red flags. 

“And you are…?” he asks casually, fully intending to keep his bad boy image up. 

As the skeleton lazily inspects his nails, it appears two can play this game.   

“MY NAME IS PAPYRUS, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME THE GREAT.”

Donatello decides he likes this one. 

“Enchanté,” he voices, then rolls his shoulders. “Well, gents, as much as I would like to keep this charming conversation going, don’t we have a public to impress?”

Mob nods. He doesn’t make any other movement, but the grass around his feet is already spiking up like hair charged with electricity. 

“I would hate to disappoint my master,” he agrees. 

Donnie looks over to Papyrus, and finds him cracking his bony knuckles, a ferocious look on his edgy features. 

“BRING IT ON, YOU SWAGLESS FROG.”

Around them, the giant screens broadcast their little exchange, and the crowd goes wild with anticipation. The match is finally about to begin; whatever happens now, there won’t be another round.

Donatello can’t help but feel grateful to be there. 

This last chance was unhoped for, and he is going to make it count, if only for kicks and giggles. 

If only for glory. 

--------------------------

Hey guys, uh. I guess I. Did it again?

Follow-up to this. Y'all can thank this anon because by making me say I wouldn't do it they actually made me do it. Whoops

DISCLAIMER: I know even less about Undertale than I do about Mob Psycho 100, which is to say I don't know shit about Papyrus. Took a hot 5 minutes of research and rolled with it. So once again this is probably wildly OOC and I apologize to whomever I may have offended

THAT BEING SAID I had a lot of fun writing this one as well! @autismswagsummit you don't know the state your tournament has me in. I think I might actually explode whatever the conclusion

Remember kids, have fun, take care, be cool, vote Donnie!

@autismswagreblogs

[novemberhope]

Summary: Niara and Ginny finally come face to face in Dressrosa in the colosseum. Notes: The third fic in a short amount of time. I'm rather pleased with myself actually. Let's hope I can keep this up. Please note that it's been a while since I've read the Dressrosa arc, so the surroundings here might not be 100% canon accurate. Word Count: 2466

The Colosseum stood high against the bright sky of Dressrosa, a symbol of cruelty and entertainment. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and fear, as warriors battled for the twisted enjoyment of Doflamingo and his cheering crowd. This was a place of violence where only the strongest would win and earn a great reward—a chance to possess the Flame Flame Fruit.

In the shadows, Ginny stood with her long red hair flowing down her back. Scars marked her skin, each one telling a story of the life she had led ever since she had departed from the Spade Pirates. The latest one went right across her face. It still felt fresh. She had gotten it while being held prisoner, forced to fight in the Colosseum. She hated this place. But a small spark of hope filled her now. If she could grab that devil fruit, it would mean freedom from slavery and the knowledge that she would ever again be dependent of anyone. But she wasn't alone. 555 fighters would be competing against each other, sorted into four blocks. And only the strongest would remain.

"Well, well, look who it is," a voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. Niara stepped into sight, already having gone through a round of fighting. She looked bruised and her clothes were torn and dirty. Apparently fighting in close combat was still not her thing. But she seemed fine otherwise. Her brown eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. “Still trying to make it big, huh?"

Ginny’s green eyes narrowed. She balled her hands into fists. As she stood her ground, she faced Niara, who wore an infuriatingly carefree expression. As always, everything seemed to be a joke to her. It always had been like this. Niara had to smile and turn on her charm and everything was handed to her on a silver platter while Ginny had to fight for everything all the time, only to be let down again and again by everyone around her.

“What do you want, Niara?” she wanted to know.

Niara rolled her eyes, twirling a strand of her brown hair. “Oh, come now, Ginny. Can’t a girl just drop by to catch up? We haven’t seen each other since, you know, Marineford.”

“Don’t bring Marineford into this,” Ginny hissed. “Or Ace.”

“How can I not!?” Niara replied. “After all, we both are competing for the same thing - the Mera Mera no Mi. Which I want to point out you of all people have no right to after what you did!”

When the past was brought up, it always felt like a punch in the face to Ginny. She was haunted by the memories from that day of betrayal. And for what? She’d done it for the man she had called her father only to learn later on that he had just used her to get a promotion and she had ended up betraying her real family in the process. Regret gnawed at her, but she pushed it away, covering it with pride and anger, as she usually did.

“I was just hoping to have a family again!” she exclaimed angrily. “You wouldn’t understand. You always knew your father is a shitty person. I got told tales of his heroism and bravery all my life. I never met him but he was my hero. After my mother died, I was hoping he’d come to get me. And when he did, I…”

Niara looked at her. “You’re right; I don’t get how someone could betray their crew, their true family. Leaving us to be with a newly found parent, yeah, sure. That I could have gotten behind. But selling us out? We were your family, Gin. We laughed and cried and fought and partied together, shared adventures and fun and late night talks about our dreams and fears and hopes. How could you, Ginny?! How could you!? We trusted you - every one of us - HE TRUSTED YOU…”

It was very clear whom she was talking about. Both girls glared at each other.

“But here we are now, battling in this horrible arena for a chance at Ace’s legacy,” Niara concluded. She could see that Ginny had gone through a lot in the last few years. She would always resent her for what she did, but she wasn’t a cruel person. She did not wish Ginny more harm. She had done the right thing and changed sides in Marineford. Never again would Niara be her friend, but she could acknowledge the fact that Ginny might feel regret over her past decisions.

Ginny turned away. She didn’t like the way Niara looked at her. It made her feel angry and ashamed.

“I don't want your pity or your judgment,” she hissed. “Just let me fight. I'm not scared of you or anyone else."

The next match was announced. Ginny's heart raced. She knew she had to win. Winning meant facing Niara, someone who used to be her ally. Winning also meant facing a ton of devil fruit users and people who were more than twice her size. There was a actual giant out there. Niara was the smallest problem. She knew she could take her, even with her devil fruit. But some of those people out there… that would not be easy wins.

As the two stood facing each other, Niara spoke again.

“Are we really going to fight?” she asked. “Is this how you want our story to end?”

“Shut up, Niara!” Ginny yelled, her frustration boiling over. She didn’t want to feel guilty or remember the crew had sold out long ago. She wanted to get out of here, to be free, to have Ace’s fire powers and become a stronger fighter so she would never ever have to rely on others again.

Gatz shouted for the fight to start, and right away, the battle began. Ginny rushed in with strong blows and quick dodges, showing the skill she had built over years. The crowd cheered loudly, full of excitement. They didn’t cheer for her though and she did not want them to. Never again she wanted anyone’s approval.

As Ginny fought, she couldn't help but notice how different her fighting style was from Niara's. Niara moved gracefully through the attack, flowers blooming in her hands and vines wrapping around Ginny's arms, trying to hold her down. Ginny broke free immediately, her anger making her hit harder. But Niara stayed close, dodging her punches. All around them, fighters were battling each other. Which was a good thing, Niara thought. The big guns could take each other out that way. But once there weren’t that many fighters left, what then? Eventually there would come a point where neither of them could continue. Niara knew she would be out soon. Ginny was a strong fighter, she would last longer. But in the end, Luffy was their best bet to get to the end. Now, if only Ginny would see that… In working together, they could tackle bigger enemies. Enemies that Luffy would not have to worry about later on. But was this something Ginny would agree to? Right now, she rather looked like she wanted to smash Niara’s face into the nearest brick wall.

“I have a plan, Ginny, and I need you to listen. There’s more at stake than just us.”

“We’re on opposite sides, remember?” Ginny said. “I’m not letting you get to the end, Flower Girl.”

“I will not get to the end either way and you know it,” Niara replied, trying to wrap Ginny’s whole body in vines to stop her from being able to move. “I trained but I’m not made for these kinds of fights. You are, yes, but have you seen your competition? You can’t win this either, Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you know you’re going down and you think I’m letting you drag me down with you!?” Ginny growled, ripping apart the vines with her bare hands. The girl had some serious strength going on. She certainly had trained a lot more in the past few years than Niara ever had.

“Whether you deserve it or not, I’d rather have you have the Mera Mera no Mi than those guys!” Niara cried, throwing herself on the ground and rolling away when someone attacked her from behind. Crap. They were already coming after them.

Ginny took one look at the guy going after Niara and sighed. It was very clear that all Niara could do here was dodge until she couldn’t dodge anymore. He wouldn’t be bothered by any of her powers. Ginny scanned the arena and looked at the people still fighting - powerhouses, all of them. Huge, all of them. Devil fruit users, some of them. Even if she made it through this round - the next one would be even more difficult. She didn’t like trusting Niara. She had vowed to herself to never let anyone in ever again. People had the nasty habit of disappointing her every time. And she had the sad habit of placing her trust in the wrong people and making wrong decisions.

“Just so you know, if you stab me in the back, I’ll kill you,” she said, pushing Niara out of her opponents way. He immediately went after her and stepped into someone else's path. Now those two were fighting.

“I won’t,” Niara replied, catching her breath. “I think Ace’s brother is our best bet to win this. But Luffy can’t eat the Mera Mera no Mi and neither can I. If I promise you to ask him to give it to you when he wins it, will you work with us?”

Niara didn’t know if she was making a mistake in trusting Ginny again. She also knew it was Luffy’s decision who he wanted to give the devil fruit to. Ginny might be all the way down his list or not on it at all. But Niara also knew that she herself wasn’t a fighter. But Ginny was. It would only be a matter of time until Niara would be taken out but Ginny could be Luffy’s ally all the way until one of the last rounds.

Ginny couldn’t answer because she was locked into a fight with a guy twice her size. But she was lighter and quicker and used this to her advantage. Niara herself was now using her vines to swing around and get away from people, dodging attacks and making opponents stumble. But as the battle continued, Ginny's anger started to fade a little, giving way to memories from the past. She recalled the laughter they shared on the Spade Pirates' ship. She recalled training with Ace and she even remembered spending time with Niara. They had never been best friends but they had gotten along just fine.

With a growl, Ginny rushed forward again, but this time, she was motivated by understanding rather than anger. Her attack slammed into Niara’s flower-based defenses, sending petals flying like snowflakes through the air, giving the others fighter the impression that they were busy fighting each other.

Niara made a spiral of plants that wrapped around Ginny's fists, stopping her mid air. "If you win and gain the Mera Mera no Mi, what will you do?” she asked. “What will you use your powers for?”

“I want to be strong and powerful so I’ll never have to be anyone’s slave again,” Ginny said. “And I never want to have to rely on anyone ever again.”

This was not the answer Niara had been hoping for. But she had no choice. And really, she couldn’t force Ginny to live a certain way. At least she would not be their enemy or use the firepower to aid the marines. And then -

“GINNY, WATCH OUT!!”

Without bothering to check, Ginny threw herself to the side. The long blade only touched her hair, sending most of it flying.

“FUCK!!” Ginny cried, jumping to her feet again. Her hair barely even touched her shoulders anymore. Not that it had looked that great after many months of being a prisoner and being forced to fight for Doflamingo’s entertainment, but still -

“Little girls should not play gladiator,” the guy with the blade said, showing them his ugly grin. He had more muscles than everything else and was missing his hair completely.

“The only one playing here is you!” Ginny cried, jumping at the chance to get back at him for cutting her hair - everything other than not having to think about the fact that she had let her guard down long enough for Niara to having to shout a warning to her. She did not need others, especially not Flower Girl Kaito Niara.

The guy suddenly put his hands to his mouth, paying no attention to Ginny. He was making weird noises and was grabbing his mouth, as if he wanted to rip his own tongue out.

“What now!?” Ginny asked impatiently.

“He’s choking,” Niara said.

“On what!?”

“Bunch of flowers…”

“Oh… I didn’t think you could do that?”

“I didn’t know I could do that either but it kind of worked…”

“You realize it’s killing him, right?”

“Yeah…” Niara sighed, biting her lips. She did not want to kill these people. At least not those who, like Ginny, were forced to fight by Doflamingo. To be honest, she would rather not kill anyone if it could be avoided. But playtime was over. She had volunteered to join Luffy in the Colosseum and now she had to do her part.

In a surprising moment, the reality of their situation sunk in. The old grudges lost their sting, and the anger between them began to fade, leaving more room for understanding.

“Let’s go,” Ginny said, dragging Niara away from the suffocating guy who was now spitting out flower petals. She did not tell her to remove the flowers or change them to smaller ones to give him more air. The harsh reality was, if he survived, he would be after them relentlessly.

“What now?” Niara asked, trying her best to tune out the noises of the guy they were leaving behind.

“Stay behind me and back me up with your vines,” Ginny ordered. “And once we’re done here, you bring me to your captain.”

As the roars of the crowd echoed in their ears, Ginny locked eyes with Niara, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They turned to face the attackers side by side. Niara rose her vines from the ground and let them wrap around their foes. Ginny was right next to her, punching and kicking. Niara's vines tangled and tripped the enemies, while Ginny struck with fast, precise blows. The strength of their combined powers was a force to be reckoned with and eventually, they both ended up as the winners for their respective blocks.

[rendy-a]

The Red String of Fate - A Poll Game

Part 2

Here we are at Chapter 2 of our story. This wasn't meant to be this long but it turned out huge. If you are just finding our story now, you can read Chapter 1 here. I will be writing our romantic conclusion next!

In Which the Prefect gets Advice

The dim green glow of a candlestick cast a strange shadow over the face of your senior.  Lilia sits across from you and pours out a cup of steaming tea for the both of you.  You eye it warily before deciding it was worth the risk.  You take a sip and are relieved to find it just common green tea.  He gives a chuckle at your expression, the bright and cheery smile he dons seems at sharp contrast to the eerie atmosphere of Diasomnia.  

“So, to what do I owe this friendly visit?” Lilia asks kindly.  You take a sip of tea to calm your nerves and begin, “Well, you see, it’s like this…”  You explain to him about your almost red string of fate and what you learned from Ortho and Crewel.  “I think I don’t want to sit around and wait.  If this is real, if I have someone out there waiting for me; then I want to find them!”  You look at Lilia to see how he responds. 

At times, Lilia seems far older than he appears.  As he sits and looks into the distance, reviewing his memories, you feel that this is one of those times.  Finally, he sighs.  “I’ve met a lot of soulmates and seen many with the red string of fate but I can’t say I’ve ever heard of your situation before.”  You deflate slightly and he chuckles, “Now, now.  No need to be so glum.  What you say is true, the more people you meet, the better the chance you have at running into your soulmate.”

You nod, sensing he was finally getting around to his advice.  “If you’ve felt the sensation for a few days but not recognized your soulmate, it is quite possible it is someone you don’t interact with every day.  Why not range further; seek out new acquaintances and experiences.  At the very least, you’ll be having a merry time with your classmates.  It’s just the sort of thing youthful students, such as ourselves, should be doing.”  He finishes his statement and sets his hands on his hips, giving you a fang-toothed smile.

You think it over and see the merit of his suggestion.  If your soulmate was in your class, why had you not noticed him before?  Perhaps he is one of the many students of NRC that you rarely interact with, a faceless NPC in your game of life.  Well, ok.  You’ve got your ghost camera and an order from Crowley to capture school memories, so that is what you’ll do!

You had thought introducing yourself to students in other classes would be easy.  Stop in over lunch and say hello.  You had forgotten the typical attitude of students at NRC.  You were thankful that you had at least stated with a class of first years.  The look of suspicion they’d given your awkward introduction had been so extreme that you barely had time to check for the famed string before backing out the door.  You can only imagine the hostility that would have arisen from a third-year class.  You decided even true love wasn’t worth the risk of braving the student body of NRC.

After failing so abysmally with your first plan, your second was more carefully thought out.  As you never officially joined a club, you decided to use this as an excuse to join club activities.  With Ortho already being in your confidence, it made him the perfect co-conspirator in your plan.   When you asked, he was able to get permission from Idia to attend Board Game Club’s next club activity.

When you showed up, you were greeted by an eager Ortho at the door.  “Good afternoon, Prefect-san!” he beams at you as you enter.  “I hope you are able to discover the charms of board games today!”  You smile at him and enter the classroom, subtly checking your hand for signs of the red string.  As far as you could tell, there were none.  “Ah, so where is your brother?  Let’s have a game.”  Ortho deflates a tad and informs you, “Nii-san declined to come today.  He said not even a rare drop would entice him to join a co-op mission.”  That did not really surprise you.  “How about Azul then?”  You weren’t exactly friends but it would be nice to see a familiar face.  “Azul Ashengrotto is also not present,” Ortho replies, “my GPS indicates he is having a meeting in Headmaster Crowley’s office currently.”  Hmm, dorm leader business, you suppose.  Though you had not met your soulmate, you did win at checkers; and that was something.

Club activities pass without any incidents, for which you were grateful.  You leave the club room and turn toward Ramshackle.  You pass by a window and get the strangest sense of foreboding.  You cautiously look over your shoulder but there is no one there.  You shrug to yourself and turn around only to come face to face with an upside-down Lilia.  “Gah!” you screech.  Lilia chuckles, “Fufufu, what a lively reaction.” 

You shake your head at your senior.  “Lilia!  Don’t tease me!” you scold him, knowing full well it was a useless endeavor.  He smiles back at you cheerfully before asking, “So, how goes your quest?”  You give a sigh, “Not well.  I’ve tried to get out there and meet more of the students but it’s harder than I planned.  People aren’t friendly and, even when they are accommodating, you can’t be sure you’ve even met everyone.  We always have students out sick or skipping class or…whatever.” 

You shake your head sadly, “I know he has to be a student at this school but I just don’t know if I’ll find him.”  Lilia ponders that for a moment before he says, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”  You smile at him, “I’m glad at least one of us believes I’ll find him.”  Lilia’s eyes widen slightly, “Oh no, I don’t mean that.  I mean that you really have no idea if he is even at this school.  There is also the town and Royal Sword Academy on the island.  Really, there is no way to know if you are even looking in the right place.  In fact, if you hadn’t meet him by now, isn’t it more likely that he doesn’t attend NRC?”

Your mouth falls open.  “LILIA! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”   Lilia only smiles, amused by your discomfort.  You shake your head at the mischievous fae, knowing he’d likely omitted that little fact from the start.  “So, oh wise one, what do you recommend I do now?”  He tilts his head, “Hmm?  Oh me?  Well!” then he sets his hand on his chin and pretends to consider, “I think, instead of running down people individually, I’ll find a place where everyone gathers.  Then cause a giant ruckus before going into screamo.” 

“Are we still talking about finding true love?” you ask the fae.  “Hmm, love?  Oh, pardon.  I’ve just had a great idea.  Well, good luck with your quest, Prefect.”  While your first conversation with Lilia had left you feeling inspired, this one has left you confused.  What was the best course of action; continuing to hunt among the students of NRC or trying to scope out the town and mysterious rival academy?  Finally, you decided on a compromise; you’d take new routes home after class to try to meet new people at NRC and, on the weekend, you’d go to town.  There was only one thing you were sure Lilia had gotten right; if you didn’t find your soulmate soon, there would be some screaming happening.

The town on Sage Island was small but, compared to the school campus, it was exciting as a bustling city.  You had lunch at a café, examining your hand each time a new patron entered.  Then you did some shopping, browsing the goods being offered but not really interested.  There was only one thing you were on the market for.

It wasn’t until you found your stomach rumbling that you realized you’d spent nearly the entire day in town.  Searching desperately as your hope waned.  You found a stand selling meat-filled buns and purchased one to eat.  As you sat on a bench in the square, you let your mind drift.  Would this all be worth it in the end?  You were starting to doubt even true love could be worth all this disappointment.  You give a long sigh, lamenting your star-crossed fate.

“Ah?” says a voice beside you.  You turn to look into the largest pair of sweet brown eyes.  The ebony haired boy gives you a cute grin, “I know you!”  You smile back, “Neige!  It sure has been a while.  How are you?”  Neige gives you a gentle look, “I’m just dandy but how are you?  That sigh sure did sound lonesome.”  You let out a depreciating laugh, “Tell me Niege, do you believe in True Love?” 

If you ever find someone questioning the value of True Love, you will recommend they get a pep talk from Neige.  The princely boy just gushes about his own hopes and dreams of the love he feels is waiting for him someday.  You think he is naïve, terribly so, but somehow, the talk restores your spirit.  By the time he is telling you about white horses, you feel ready to return to your own quest. 

“I just don’t even know where to go from here.  I feel like I’ve looked everywhere!”  Suddenly, a strange voice responds, “Have you looked front-ways and side-ways?  How about up-ways and down-ways?  Nyah, maybe backwards is the way to go when you need to go forward.” 

You seem to be running into a lot of acquaintances today.  “Hello Chenya.”  The beastman materializes next to you, grin first.  “Have you come to weigh in on my love life too?”  He chuckles at you, “Why no, I’ve only come to bring my companion back to school before curfew.”  He considers you with his usual air of mystery, “Meowny new opportunities come along when you least expect them.”  You roll your eyes at the pun, “Thanks for the advice.  Shall I pass on your greetings to Riddle?”  He gives you a wide grin as he fades away, “I’d a-purr-eciate it.”

Neige gives you a small wave as he joyfully departs back to RSA.  You sit and ponder the strange conversation you just had.  Front-ways and down-ways, huh?  Were there opportunities waiting for you backwards?  You chuckle at Chenya and his strange advice.  Only, that last one had you pausing.  Cheyna is known for offering solid, if somewhat cryptic, advice.  Was that statement random or was it his way of telling you to return to NRC?

You figure you might as well head back; the day was nearly ended anyway.  Upon entering the gate of NRC, you realize that something was happening.  Leona was standing near Main Street, highly agitated.  You approach him cautiously and ask him what is happening.  “Some genius decided to crowd the plaza right as everyone is trying to return from club activities.”  His tail swings in an angry sweep.  Epel comes to your side, “Are you trying to get through?  I’m about to push my way through!  You can come with me, if you want.”  You figure that was a good offer and follow in the wake of the energetic country boy as he shouts and shoves his way through the crowd.  You learn a few new curse words too; you just hope Epel doesn’t run into Vil while he is speaking like this.

When you finally reach the center of the chaos, you see a stage set for a music performance.  Cater and Kalim were already on stage, setting up.  Pausing was a mistake; the short time you spent looking at the stage was enough for the crowd to swallow Epel up, leaving you without his assistance.  You look around for an escape and spot a familiar face.  You borrow some of your new vocabulary from Epel and force your way over to Lilia. 

“Lilia!” you should as you arrive at the side of the fae. “What is going on here?”  He sets his base guitar down as he reaches your side.  He leans in to shout out a conversation to you over the noise of the crowd.  “Isn’t it wonderful?  I got the idea this morning!  Why spend all week inviting everyone to the concert when we can just have it where everyone already is?  Fufufu.”  Suddenly, the advice he had given you earlier made more sense. 

You sigh and start to form a complaint about his reckless behavior and how it had inconvenienced nearly the entire student body when you bump into someone in the crowd.   Without fully understanding, you feel your heart start to pound.  A sensation rolls down your entire body before centering on your pinky.  The red string is no longer a phantom but a bright red beacon.  You turn your head around to meet the eyes of the boy behind you and feel the hand of fate close tightly around you.  You had finally found him, your soulmate and, as you met his eye, you could tell he felt it too.

[thecryptidenthusiast]

OC’s as Planets 🪐

I was tagged by @sustainably-du-mortain and @wayhavenots to take this quiz for my oc’s and I am Very Late doing this.

It’s an open tag for anybody that’s interested because I don’t know who all as done this already!!

Abby Brùn - Mercury

clever. intelligent and witty. wisdom, sharpness, anxiety and indecisiveness. you are the comedian. the "make someone laugh if they are crying" kind of lover. you dont want to think too much about anything because that stops you from just having fun, but your brain doesn't ever shut off. you are curious and never ending. forecast and shadows. the smell of clean sheets.

This is kind of 50/50 for Abby. I wouldn’t say she’s the ‘witty funny one’ but she’s definitely a mess with her own anxiety. Every decision is makes is one she either stresses herself over, or makes in a knee-jerk panic moment.

Kira Langford - Earth

nurturing, generous and caring. introverted, tolerant, honest and trustworthy. you are "my phone is always on, call me any time." you are "i feel like i'm everyone's therapist." you are impressive with your stability and and peacefulness. you are wallpapers of cows and fields of ever-growing seeds. you are the best friend. mother nature. ice cold water and the smell of rain.

This fits for Kira! She’s the soft, gentle one. The one that puts everybody’s needs above her own, because that’s how she thinks she needs to be to get people to stay in her life.

Sam Rodriguez - Neptune

mercy. kindness. sweet. forgiving and compassionate. you are second chances and sometimes third. you are "its ok because everyone makes mistakes." you are "i forgive you as long as you are learning." you are not held down by the demands of your ego. you believe and right and fair. open mindedness and friendship. you are mystical and magical, observant and the smell of warm bread in the morning

This is an interesting one for Sam. So much of their attitude with everything is just…laid back. I guess they’re one to forgive, because it really takes a lot to get on their bad side to the point they cut you off. They also are one that is going to make anybody and everybody be their friend no matter what (exactly how they basically forced all of UB to be their friend lol). I can’t say they’re sweet necessarily because they’re kind of a menace.

BONUS: Sidestep

Erin Becker - Mars

passion. energy. drive. determination. you are sexual and it doesn't always have to mean what it so blatantly is. you are in tune with yourself and your body and if you don't already feel it, please try to tune into it because it is so powerful. you are at war with yourself and life and it doesn't always have to be so hard. anger is not a useless emotion but do not let it control you. love is more powerful than sex will ever be. you are the smell of fresh cut grass and a satisfied job done.

Oh, this fits her almost perfectly. She’s in tune with herself in the worst ways at times (wrapped up in her head and body, unable to let herself just exist), so she needs to find a healthier balance there. So much of her is just anger and fighting: life, others, herself. She’s terrified of love, so sex is the best thing she thinks she can provide

[skelingtonsderek]

(From Willow) For "Remembrance.":

They’re pressed in close, hands still clasped from their efforts to raise Boyd from the grass. His other hand, he slides from Raylan’s hip to the small of his back, presses in just enough to encourage Raylan just a little closer, leaves a small kiss against the frown Raylan makes sometimes when he forgets to smile. 

“There a story to that face of yours?” Boyd asks, voice as gentle as his lips as he lays another kiss, this time on the scrape across Raylan’s cheek. There’s a shadow under his eye Boyd knows will develop into a beautiful purple to match the ruddy mauve his already swelling lip will be by tomorrow. 

Raylan releases his hand from Boyd’s, runs those anxious spider legs he has for hands along Boyd’s sides, just this side of tickling. There’s a knowledge there, when he looks at Boyd, a shimmering depth that Boyd wishes to plunge into with the ardent yearning of a man at the shore of an expansive lake on the hottest day of the year, hot eyes fixed on just exactly what he wishes to quench the thirst in his flesh upon. 

Raylan hums, taking his hat off and settling it gently on top of Boyd’s head. 

“Oh, you know me, Boyd,” Raylan responds, smile breaking out all lopsided and goofy and brighter than the sun above on his face. “I don’t play well with others.” 

Willow!!! You have great taste in picks, too. Y’all are killing me. Deceased. Dead. I am really quite fond of Remembrance. As a story. I promise I don’t say that about all of them just all the ones I like (all of them) Don't think I didn't notice this one was also a Hat Scene...

So this is like a couple things all at once because I can’t not multitask when I’m having fun but anyway there’s this ending to Remembrance. here to talk about. Boyd is unearthed here, now no longer feeling like he’s in his grave and dead. His mind finally allowing himself to believe that he’s alive and he’s alive because Raylan reached into perdition and— argjygfns;OIEHK sorry was briefly possessed by the Supernatural fandom there. It’s like this. Their experiences together, their shared agonies and griefs and joys have brought them closer. Boyd has returned to himself but different. He came back wrong but that has made them all the more close to each other because of it. A sort of hope in what they might grow to be together and a faith that they Will. “There a story to that face of yours?” Is a line taken directly form the script for the show that Boyd asks Raylan at one point when they meet. Used here to show for Boyd’s curiosity about Raylan continuing even with his memories back, he wants to know more and more and more. Bookended by another line taken from the show. I think “I don’t play well with others” is said by Boyd in the show though. I can’t find the scene again. I wish I could. But. OK. I have to admit it. This is a confession. Confession time here. I was also referencing someone else’s fic but only a little tiny bit because there was a scene from it that gave me the idea in a sort of roundabout way so I wanted to pay homage to that as well but was too shy to like just out and out say it. In Take Care of You by norgbelulah there’s this scene where they get in to a bit of a shootout and Boyd goes in to shock and I thought that was quite dramatic and interesting and then I thought well what if he really did go mad tho so I took that thought and ran with it. “You know me” is one of the things Boyd and Raylan say to each other in that story. I don’t know if it’s actually a Thing in Set Fire to This House but my head said it was and just… quietly altered my brain to include that as a term of endearment.

ETA: also because it's affirmation. Boyd really Does know Raylan and has the whole time and would all over again given the chance to learn him a third time lololololol

[rictwheeler]

BASICS.

full name: riot jesse wheeler nicknames: ri, rj age: 26 years old gender: nonbinary pronouns: they/them or ze/hir orientation: queer language(s): cajun french, english species: werewolf (born -- triggered) status: non pack member

BIO.

(tw for mentions of physical assault, murder -- unintentional, gun violence, ptsd, & death)

You’re raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana by a woman who should have been done raising kids decades before you came along. There’s three of you til your Granddad passes away, and then it’s just the two of you. Mom’s in and out, and you learn to stop asking when you’ll see her next after the third time she lies to you. Your mom lies a lot. You remember that. But MawMaw never lies, not even to spare your feelings.

You grow up well aware you’re not like other families. Other kids have moms and dads and even grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. You’ve just got MawMaw. She says it’s because everyone else got out the first chance they got, left for mountain ranges and starry skies and blinding lights in better cities. You’re young. You tell her you don’t care how pretty it is somewhere else, you want to be here with her. It makes her smile.

There’s another reason you know you’re not like other families. MawMaw had told you since you were little, back before all this leaving mess, your family unit had been strong, connected, respected. Not the sort of thing humans fully understand. She sits you down when you turn eleven and spells it all out for you. She tells you about the full moons, the shifting, the trigger, the hunters. She’s never, ever spared your feelings. Your whole life feels tinged with dramatic irony, as she assures you things are different now. The two of you are safe. You won’t ever have to trigger the wolf like she did. Neither of you could know she was wrong. 

You’re 17. It’s late. You’re just trying to get home. You don’t even hear him running up, seventeen years of your life spent feeling safe on these sidewalks and five years of walking alone on them means it’s too loud to hear him over your earbuds. Even when you’re sent sprawling onto the pavement, you’re more annoyed than alarmed. Then the gun is pressed to the back of your neck. Two shots ring out that night, and only one of you runs from the alley. You’ve never been afraid like this. You’ve never seen someone die before. It had been an accident. An accident. Better him than you.

You run home when it’s over, faster than you’ve ever run before, adrenaline the only thing keeping you upright. You don’t collapse until you make it through the door, woozy and too terrified to speak, blood dried on your face, your neck, your  shirt. MawMaw only reports it because you’re hysterical, and you stay mostly anonymous through the proceedings. It’s still an agonizing wait while you’re worried they won’t believe you, and you might get carted off. You don’t. You make your statements, and try to move on. 

You’re terrified to be alone for months. Going out after dark is a no. Even now, you run home when you have to work late, slamming the door and bolting it behind you and not calm until you’ve checked every room. You end up dropping out of high school, a few months shy of graduation. Tragedy hits again when MawMaw dies too young at 83, and then the owner of the apartment building dies a year and a half later, and his son sells the building, sells your only home out from under you. You never thought you’d want to leave Louisiana, but after everything? That town in Rhode Island you’d heard about in passing sounded better than nothing. 

You finally arrived six months ago. Not a lot to be done with less than a high school diploma, but you snag a job at the comic book shop, and you secure a little place in Shadow Lake, and for the first time since your hands scraped the pavement nine years ago, you feel in control of your own life. 

CONNECTION IDEAS.

good influence: Riot isn’t a bad kid, per se. But they’ve spent their life Around other people. Being totally on their own is new, and someone to help keep their head straight might be helpful. (OPEN TO 2)

bad influence: On the other hand! A little corruption never hurt anyone, right? Riot’s no stick in the mud, but being in a still somewhat new town, getting their footing is a work in progress. Someone to make them live a little, what’s the harm there?  (OPEN TO 2)

parent friend: Part good influence, part obnoxious welcome wagon, for whatever reason, this person looked at Riot and decided to take them under their wing, despite the protests. And trust, there are plenty of protests.  (OPEN TO 2)

regular customer (bestie): Honestly, Riot loves when this person comes in. Like, it genuinely makes their day. Maybe they’re funny, maybe they’re the only person in town who gets the storylines like they do, or maybe it’s the earnest way they’re always so lost among the volumes and trying to get Riot’s opinion. Either way, Riot has told them at least once they’d die for them in response to something they’ve said.  (OPEN TO 1)

regular customer (worstie): Conversely, every time this person is within their sight Riot wants to lock the doors. It’s probably just annoyance, or a mutual ribbing, but nine times out of ten this person’s opinions are met with a deadpan, “Die about it, then.” Again, there’s no one reason why this has to be. Maybe Riot doesn’t think they’re nearly as funny as they think. Maybe they never put the comics back in the right spot. Maybe they requested a comic to be ordered and took, like, forever and a day past the agreed upon pickup date to actually take it, even though they were definitely around often enough to have taken it sooner. Either way, if Riot has grey hairs, it’s their fault.  (OPEN TO 1)

*blasts paralyzer by finger eleven*: Not gonna act like this is anything other than a hookup connection. There’s only so many ways to let off steam in a small town.  (OPEN TO HONESTLY HOWEVER MANY LMAO)

it’s a small world after all: Riot didn’t expect to see this person again. Maybe they’re also new to town, or maybe they’ve lived here all their life, but either way, Riot’s glad for some familiarity, or as close as they can get. They spent about a year travelling from Louisiana up to Rhode Island, so they could have met at any point from start to finish.  (OPEN TO 2)

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

here's some grishaverse ships!!!! darklina nikolina zoyalina genyalina zoyanikolina zoyalarkling nikolarkling? darkling-nikolai-alina? i'm out of names jesper and kaz jesper and wylan just bc they're normal

Darklina

Already did this one!

To give some more opinions, I like it most when he’s either at his cruelest or most pathetic. The best scene was when he threatens to skin her 🤷‍♀️

I love the pettiness of them having a telepathic bond and using it for fucking psychological warfare. Or well the Darkling does. Alina takes way too long to catch on and needle him as much. I wish she’d gotten the chance to fuck him up more. But anyway I generally find it so funny how much of the dynamic relies on her just being… fairly normal and then he’s Like That.

I love Alina as the constantly weirded out, narrative and comedic straight main to his supervillain melodrama.

Nikolina

This has been my TGT OTP for awhile, me and like five other people lmao. I like it most in AU and canon divergent scenarios tbh, partially because their dynamic is really chill and I love conflict and angst. I like it when there’s some aspect of pining, unrequited feelings, or just the shadow of other issues looming over the relationship. Like I love this ship in situations where they’re PerseveringTM together despite The Horrors, basically?

And I mean I’ve already talked a few times about how I really like their polar opposite priorities and ambitions. They contrast each other fairly strongly while still getting along very well. And that’s something I usually find very compelling. I like this ship most for AUs where they like self actualize/compromise/learn to cope with shared trauma etc. I want them to work through shit and learn to be happy!

Zoyalina

Rivals to lovers is soooo fun! Alina can’t go two minutes without mentioning how hot Zoya is. And I think LB genuinely meant it more for reader info/to get into Alina’s insecurity but it reads SO gay.

There’s like two main dynamics I really like for them. Okay three. But one is like a riff on early SAB era, where they bond while still both under the Darkling’s thumb, despite being pitted against each other. The other is like leaning into a devotion, saint and warrior/bodyguard/devotee type thing. Third is post R&R Alina retreating to her orphanage and it being explicit in the epilogue that Zoya visits and writes and even gives her a kefta because she’ll always be Grisha. And idk I’m just obsessed with Zoya, who’s so unused to that sort of kindness, being gentle or drawing her out of her shell in her own gruff way.

Genyalina

I love them!!! But also the plot just doesn’t give me much to work with past SaB. That inherent conflict of Genya lying to her and never sending Alina’s letters, while genuinely connecting with her is SO good. I love it, and that’s my favorite dynamic for them. And I also love the explicit comparison drawn between Genya’s own trauma and being exploited by the king, and Alina being groomed by the Darkling even if Alina’s not herself fully like cognizant of it. (Kind of similar to the SaB era Zoyalina dynamic, girls connecting over being manipulated and controlled by men/the same man even is a dynamic that I find very compelling) But past that point in the series I don’t have as much like… thoughts about them? I still love them and love when they interact but it doesn’t intrigue me in the same way.

Zoyanikolina

Okay okay maybe this is the real OTP… OT3… series ship of all time. KoS (more the idea of it than the execution) did convert me to Zoyalai to an extent, the pining is soooo good. And I already love Zoyalina and Nikolina separately so obvs the best way to go here is to smoosh them all together lmao.

My fave take is facilitated through a Nikolina political marriage that’s kind of complicated for everyone involved. And meanwhile Alina seeing all the insane pining going down and being like. Well. Are you going to do something about this or???

I may be writing this lmao so I’m generally thinking about it a lot. But Alina being the most emotionally intelligent one while simultaneously very NOT self aware about her own feelings is just very funny to me.

Zoyalarkling

So having confirmed that this is Zoya/Alina/Darkling hm! Hm! Not sure I can see this one except in very very particular circumstances. I feel like the Zoyalina dynamic when they’re both still into the Darkling is defined by rivalry and being in competition with each other. So I don’t think they’d be… happy about a poly scenario. But also the Darkling’s probably TERRIBLE enough to be like Ah yes here is my teenaged harem. So I could see a very fucked up version. Meanwhile I just don’t get the sense that Zoya harbors like any attraction whatsoever for him the way Alina does after Everything Goes Down. I could see some kind of insane hate fucking scenario, but like only very particularly?

I can’t help but make Hannibal comparisons when I think of KoS type scenarios/anything where they keep the Darkling jailed. But I could see Zoya as his jailor being very interesting (Chilton or Alana Bloom esque) And we canonically have him like demanding to see Alina, though again canon didn’t do nearly enough with it. So could I see a weird psychosexual SOTL/NBC Hannibal arc for these three? Mayhaps.

Darknikolina

Love them! I’m generally a fan of Darklolai and I think there’s a lot of very interesting unexplored territory in terms of what the dynamic between Nikolai and the Darkling even is. LB, even in KoS, tends to skirt around how they perceive each other fairly carefully? I think probably because she knows how much it’d expose the painfully thin politics and court set up lmao. But I think there’s room for very personal loathing —> fascination.

Anyway I am really interested in circumstances where like Nikolina get married For Politics and then the Darkling’s just in jail 5ever and things get weird. Or alternatively (I basically wrote this already) but a bad ending scenario where the Darkling wins and they’re both basically his captives.

I think there’s also a lot of mileage to be gotten out of the Darkling basically lying dormant inside Nikolai lmao/at least some of his power remaining there. And there are interesting body sharing weirdness places you could go with that. And complicate it even further by bringing Alina into the mix.

Kazper

This was probably my favorite SoC ship dynamic lmaoooo which I mean I knew was never going anywhere! But then gets further tanked by the clear comparison between Jesper and Jordie. I just really liked that initial pining set up where Jesper was desperate to prove himself to Kaz, to just get him to at all give him the time of day. And Kaz is just… frankly kind of cruel to him! Idk the conflict was really interesting. I would’ve loved to see the dynamic explored

Wesper

Eh. I didn’t really like them in the books tbh? I think they had some effective scenes in CK particularly but also like it wasn’t effective in a shippy sense to me necessarily. I did actually like them in the show a lot! So that’s made me more partial to it. But it’s still just not something I’d bother to think about outside of actually watching the show/reading the books.

[acourtofthought]

Yeah, absolutely. I didn’t mean to say that the “only soft with the love interest” trope is exclusive to Feysand, but that it doesn’t make sense to rely on it so heavily with both Feysand and E/riel (two of the sisters’ ships and main romances, whether established or potential).

Especially because, again, that’s not what E/riel is about. It’s literally a ship between two people who can’t communicate even when they have all the chances and instruments to do so, who hide their true selves from the other because they feel (deep down) that they wouldn’t be accepted. And they wouldn’t.

They’re too different, and not in a good way. Azriel’s life revolves around violence and shadows; Elain’s revolves around peace, gardening and sunlight. What do the two of them even have in common? What could they build a relationship on?

Feysand and Nessian have core values in common (and I don’t like Nessian, but it’s objective), Elucien have core values and also hobbies in common. It’s easy to see why these couples work or would work together, but not E/riel.

And even if we were to look past Azriel and Elain’s differences, why would anyone wish for them to be together after what we learned in Azriel’s SF bonus chapter? Because, no matter how you spin it, that was seriously problematic.

Not only does Azriel show that Lucien’s life means nothing to him (which should give everyone the ick considering Lucien is Elain’s Mate and someone she’d never want to be hurt), but also that he has zero regards for her feelings.

Azriel doesn’t stop and think about what it’d be like for Elain to lose her Mate (both psychologically and physically), or acknowledge Lucien’s importance (which goes beyond there being romantic feelings between Lucien and Elain or not). Azriel also admits that he’s only thought about having sex with Elain, and that was a red flag considering the circumstances.

Do I think there’s anything wrong with not wanting anything besides sex? Absolutely not. Do I think Azriel should be shamed for it? Again, absolutely not. Does it bother me that, out of everyone in the NC and Prythian, he chose Elain? YES.

We get it, Elain’s the third sister, Azriel’s the third brother, it’s almost impossible for him not to think “why Lucien and not me.” But shouldn’t some boundaries come into place when you risk hurting another person, and one you supposedly have feelings for at that?

The thing is: Azriel and Elain are two people who view romance and sex differently, who’ve had opposite experiences regarding the latter (as far as we know), and if Azriel actually cared about Elain (even just as a friend) he would’ve spoken to her at length about engaging in something that’s only physical. That’s a conversation that needs to be had, especially if you have an inkling that your partner may not share your view or experiences.

Of course, Elain could simply want to have sex too. We don’t know her enough to rule the option out, and it’s her right to do whatever she wants. But still, how can we, how can AZRIEL know if he hasn’t asked her? How can he respect Elain and her wishes if he only thinks about getting in bed with the third sister, and can’t even ask her if that’s what she wants?

Us readers, being outside of the story, can see that Elain is either (according to E/riels) chasing a romance with Azriel, or (according to us Eluciens) ignoring her too difficult feelings towards Lucien, their mating bond and what happened during the War by seeking an “easier” connection.

Both opinions are based on possible interpretations of Elain’s feelings more than they are based on possible interpretations of her physical desires, and, while both are important, Elain deserves to know that Azriel’s interest is purely physical.

She also deserves to know that Azriel fantasizes about having sex with her, which is okay, per se, but becomes a bit troubling when you realize that the only reason he’s fixated with Elain is that she’s Feyre and Nesta’s sister, that Azriel knows Elain has a difficult situation to still sort through, and never even bothers asking her if she’s fine with it all. (With her situation, his desire).

That’s the quintessential of problematic.

(P.S. Understand, it’s not my intention to shame Azriel. He can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t hurt anyone and I stand by that, but I also think that there were many ways to go about his attraction towards Elain, all of them much more respectful to her, and that he simply didn’t care enough to go with them).

Hello again! 😊

You made so many good points.

It almost seems like they get so fixated on a trope (like you said with Az being soft around Elain versus who he normally is) at the very first hint of it and they call it a day. They never bother to question whether it actually meets the criteria for that trope. That trope only works when the female is aware of the Male having a dark side but knows he's soft around her. According to Az, Elain has no idea so she's been tricked into thinking he's someone different than he is. If they're really meant to be together, he should have trusted her to show the good and bad in him especially before they were willing to hook up.

The Bonus Chapter always makes me question how anyone still thinks Az and Elain are endgame.

What girl wants the male love interest to say he's never thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies? In what world does anyone think that means Az is in love with Elain?

And you make an excellent point. There is nothing wrong with Elain and Az sharing a mutual attraction and being willing to hook up and I completely applaud that as part of these characters journeys if that's what they need. But we can still recognize the difference between what that is and actual love.

E/riels love to talk about consent but is it really consent when the guy knows he's given the female a false impression of who he is? Their lack of communication is such a red flag. Like you said, she deserves to know exactly who it is she decided to take that next step with and vice versa. Az also should have been informed on where Elain's thoughts are when it comes to Lucien. He thinks he knows but that's not the same thing as Elain explaining to him what she wants to do about the bond.

I don't think you're shaming Az. I think you're expressing why in this situation Az is not making smart decisions and is basing those decisions on the wrong things. Seeing that he would have kissed Elain wouldn't have become so problematic if it wasn't followed up with all the reasons why he's become so fixated on Elain.. And the fact that he admit to Rhys or himself that he's over Mor..

Thank you for your follow-up! 😍