#I also moved some scenes around so I hope things still make sense

[rafeacs]

Best Friend Rafe x Reader Boat Day

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, yearning

“AH! What are you doing here?!” You screamed in utter fright as you stepped into your room, only to see Rafe lying on your bed. You were fresh from the shower and not at all expecting a presence to be waiting for you. 

“You haven’t seen me in a week, and that’s how you greet me?�� Rafe questioned as he sat up, resisting a smirk to rise on his lips as you were only covered by a skimpy white towel. You roll your eyes and sigh, a smile coming to your lips, moving to your vanity to do your after-shower rituals, not at all conscious of your lack of clothing because you and your best friend Rafe were used to such scenes. 

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” You questioned, eyes locking with ocean one through the mirror where Rafe studied you as you lathered your face with differing products. “I haven’t seen you in a week. What? You didn’t miss me at all?” He raised his brow, and you laughed at the pretend hurt on his face. “How were the Bahamas?” You asked and stood, disregarding his question, and instead went to your closet to find something to wear. “Fine. It’d be better if you came,” He shrugged and peaked as you tried to decide what to wear. Catching the way you bent down to wear your underwear and shorts, your body still covered by a towel. Any sense of boundaries in your friendship seemed to disappear after years of knowing one another. Rafe smirked as you stepped out of your closet wearing one of his shirts that you stole from him. 

You sat next to him in bed, “It was a family vacation; I didn’t want to impose.” You shrugged. “So what’d you do while I was away? Sniff my shirts because you just miss me that much?” You scoffed a laugh and rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips. “Sure, yeah, I just stared into your picture, counting down the days until you came back.” You went along with his bit. Rafe bit his lip and hoped you were telling the truth, but alas, he could only dream. 

“No, I uh— I mostly just stayed home, baked a bit. And played tennis; there’s a new instructor at the club; he’s cute— really great at tennis, too.” Rafe was quick to grow tense at your words, jealousy quickly spiking in him. “But he’s gay, so…” You added, and that eased the green-eyed monster in him. “Hm, what you wanna do today?” Rafe asked, wanting to change the subject. 

“Mm… I dunno, I kinda want to go to the beach.” You say, and Rafe nodded, “Then let’s go,” he quickly said. “But I also kinda just wanna hang out here,” You said, indecisive. “Then let’s hang out here,” Rafe responded, willing to do anything just as long you were in his company. You sighed and pursed your lips. “I don’t know, you pick!” You exclaimed, Rafe amused by your inability to make even the most measliest of decisions. 

“Wanna go on the boat? We could sail around, get some food, and catch the sunset,” He proposed and smiled as you eagerly nodded. Going to your closet to change your attire once more, Rafe shuffled in your room to get one of your bags and pack some things he knew you would need. “What book do you want?” He asked as he placed some towels in your bag, already anticipating you’d want to bring a book for the day, as you always did. “The one by my nightstand!” You yelled from the closet, trying to decide what color bathing suit to wear. Rafe took the book into his hand and smiled as he saw that you used a photo booth picture of the two of you as your bookmark.

Rafe squired you around town, getting the necessary things for your day in the boat—a lunch from your favorite restaurant and a pint of your favorite ice cream. When you arrived at the marina, Rafe could practically feel your excitement. He was quick to disembark his truck and open the door for you, swinging your bag on his shoulder as he escorted you to his family’s boat. As the sun rose higher and higher and the view of the island drew further, you and Rafe decided to have your lunch, but before the two of you could eat, you stepped and appeared with a giant thing of sunscreen in your hands. 

“I wanna eat,” Rafe grumbled as you sat next to him, placing sunscreen on his face. Your soft hands sent chills down his spine no matter how blaring the island sun was. He kept on complaining, saying he didn’t need sunscreen, but it did nothing to hinder you from traveling your hands along his chest and back as you applied for protection from the sun. “Men don’t need sunscreen,” Rafe grumbled as he watched you apply more of the lotion on his forearms. “You say that, but even men are not immune to melanoma,” You chirped, “Okay, all done!” You said you applied sunscreen to yourself as well; Rafe was waiting for you to finish before he started to eat. 

“Can you get my back?” You innocently asked, handing Rafe the tube. Rafe swallowed as you turned your back to him. Trying not to succumb to his urges because it would surely be obvious from the swimming trunks he wore. Rafe messaged the sunscreen on your back and marveled at how soft your skin was, resisting his urges to ‘accidentally’ pull the string of your bikini top and let his fingers trail further your frame. “Al— All done,” Rafe struggled to say after a moment, taking his time to spread the lotion all over your back, savoring each moment you let him touch your skin. 

You nodded and settled to his side as they both started to have lunch, but first, you took out a baby wipe and cleaned your hands. Rafe smiled fondly as you held his hands to clean them. He just loved how you fussed over him, how you were the only one who genuinely cared about his well-being. 

The afternoon was spent with you and Rafe lounging on the deck of the boat. Rafe pointed your view to the setting sun, and your back was settled against his chest as you read him your book. Rafe had no idea about the words you uttered. All he focused upon was the feel of your frame flushed against his, your voice that soothed his mind, and the fantasy that perhaps one day, you two could be more than just mere best friends. 

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I PRAY, DON'T FALL AWAY FROM ME

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: murphy's law has never been more true. anything that can go wrong will go wrong. and it does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: HAPPY FRIDAYYYYYYY, we're finally getting into the thick of this series, the next few chapters will be INTENSE, i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them ;) this chapter was actually a doozy for me - i struggled a bit with reconciling civzai with canon!dazai and figuring out how to make civzai react to everything that's happened in a way that a civilian would, but i didn't want to make it too far removed from how canon!dazai would act. i ended up rewriting a few times, but i'm mostly happy with how it came out. anyway!! reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY heheh!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of dissociation, brief depiction of gore in first scene, dazai's implied to be in a bit of a manic episode in the second scene and then crashes hard in the third (he is not coping well with everything that happened), reader is all strung up and agitated most of this chapter which leads to some very stupid decisions, dazai also makes some very stupid decisions.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in the next chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it hasn't been as apparent in the past few, so it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED and that is very apparent in how an argument goes down in this chapter. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

You look so… serene. 

Dazai’s knees are tucked to his chest as he sits on the bed next to you, watching as you rest. You’re fast asleep, even puffs of air escaping your lips as you curl up close to him beneath the comforter. You look a lot younger right now, not anything like the hardened mafia executive that he knows you are. Dazai’s breath catches when he sees you shift to get a bit more comfortable, moving closer to him so that your forehead is pressed against the side of his thigh.

Still, none of this feels real. He hardly breathes as he reaches out to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek, watching as you let out a soft noise in your sleep before nuzzling a bit closer to him. Dazai believed that he was a man destined to be alone for his whole life; never in his wildest dreams did he ever think someone would love him for who he is, much less someone like you who could have anyone you wanted.

It doesn’t feel real.

Was it all just a dream? 

A nightmare? 

He blinks and suddenly blood stains the back of his knuckles where he’d been touching you, dribbling from your lips to the mattress below. Your eyes are still closed, but Dazai knows if they were open, they’d be glassy and empty. His breath quickens and his gaze flickers down the bed to your torso where he knows the gaping wound is hidden beneath the sheets. He feels the weight of a gun in his right hand and hears a thud to his left of a body hitting the ground and-

“Stop thinking so hard.”

He physically jumps at the sound of your voice, eyes widening as he looks down at you. Your eyes are still closed and you haven’t budged an inch, but the blood is gone and the weight in his hand has disappeared. For a split second, Dazai thinks he might’ve imagined your voice, but then, as if you can sense the thought, your eyes crack open, sharp and squinted, not at all glassy or empty.

Just his mind playing tricks. 

“I can feel the shitty thoughts tossing around up there,” you mutter with a yawn, stretching a bit next to him. His face heats up when you press your lips against the sliver of bandages peeking out from where his shirt is riding up his sides. You sigh as you push yourself into a sitting position, dropping your head on his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Half-past seven ish,” he answers, voice catching as he looks down at you. “You slept late. Your meeting is in twenty minutes.”

“Did you sleep at all?” you ask with a frown. You sit up straight again to look at him, a concerned expression on your face. “You’re not usually up this early.”

Dazai did not, in fact, sleep. Besides the fact that every time he closes his eyes, he’s plagued with the sight of your dead body, his mind has been in shambles over how easy it had been to pull the trigger of the gun you’d given him. Odasaku had instilled morals into him, morals that Dazai has strictly followed since the day he met the man, even more so after he died to save Dazai to honor the older man. And Dazai had known that being with you would compromise said morals but…

But it’s different when he’s actually the one stomping all over them.

Life should be treasured. Spend your days helping people.

Why had pulling the trigger been so easy?

Dazai stares down at his hands, willing an answer to come to him. He thinks the worst part is that even now, he can’t muster guilt. He should feel guilty—he knows that—he took someone’s life, someone who had people waiting on him if what you were saying held any merit, but he’d done it to protect you and he just can’t seem to feel guilty when it had been a choice between your life and an enemy’s.

Still, he thinks, it shouldn’t have been so easy.

He shouldn’t feel nothing.

Not for the first time, Dazai thinks there’s something fundamentally wrong with him. Something that sets him painfully apart from the rest of humanity. Something that leaves him grasping at straws as he tries to put on a face and convince the world that he’s just like everyone else. Something dark and empty that festers—it festered while he was on his own in Suribachi, it festered after Odasaku’s death, and it festers now with blood on his hands and no remorse to be found. 

“Osamu,” you say, more concerned now, but you sound like you’re underwater and Dazai can’t even turn his head to look at you.

That’s not even to mention the message from Professor Ui. The more he thinks about it, the more anxious he gets. A tip-off. Professor Ui hadn’t given enough context for him to try to narrow down what it might be about, and there’s been so much going on recently that Dazai couldn’t possibly hope to narrow it down on his own. The only given is that it would be bad for you.

He almost doesn’t want to tell you.

No, he doesn’t want to tell you. Not at all. Not yet. Not when all he can give you is more to stress about, more to be paranoid about. All he’s been able to do is come to you with issue after issue, he’s been a burden—the least he can do is figure out the scope of this new problem before saddling you with it.

He can handle it himself. He can. He’ll go to the meeting and figure out what Professor Ui’s tip-off is about so when he brings it to you, you can formulate a plan of action to handle it. He can’t just tell you ‘Hey! Remember that journalist that’s trying to target you! He got a tip-off that he’s planning to do something about!’ when you already have so much on your plate.

He-

“Osamu,” you say, reaching for his wrist but the sudden touch jolts him out of his spiral.

His heart rate spikes and his surroundings blur and Dazai is instinctively pushing you away from him as panic subsumes all coherent thought, unsure of where he is and what’s going on. The sheets feel too much like the soft dirt, the fingers on his wrist are too tight, the air is too brisk and cold, the early morning light shining through your blinds into your apartment is so reminiscent of the way it shone through the tall trees into the forest.

“Don’t touch me.”

His feet tangle against the sheets as he scrambles away and tumbles right off of the side of the bed—pain shoots up his ankle and for a moment, Dazai forgets where he is and it’s not you on the bed reaching out to him, but the rotted skin of Arahabaki, your blood dripping off its fingers. Dazai can hardly breathe as he tries to reorient himself, nails digging into his palms.

It takes a concerning amount of time for Dazai to remember where he is, who he’s with. By the time he does, you’re kneeling at the edge of the bed, an expression on your face that Dazai is just too out of it to understand, and Dazai can feel his face heating up in embarrassment, a heavy feeling of mortification spreading through his chest when he realizes how he just lashed out at you.

“Osamu,” you try again, voice a bit softer and there’s no mistaking the concern in your eyes now, but Dazai just wants to bury himself alive, throat spasming as he hides his face in his lap. “Hey, it’s-”

“Go away,” he snaps, humiliated. “Go away. I’m fine. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“It can wait,” you say, too understanding. “Osamu, I-”

A burden. 

He’s a burden—he brings you issue after issue, distracts you from your work and gets you in trouble. For some reason, despite all of that, you still want him, and all he can repay you with is lashing out at you and causing more trouble. Now because he’s fucked in the head, you’re going to be late to another meeting that you can’t afford to be late to because you’re worried about him and he’s just so tired of being a liability all the time. 

“Go.” His voice cracks over the word, he hates the way it comes across as more pleading than angry; he doesn’t have to look up at you to know the way you must be looking at him. “Please just go. I’m fine. Please.”

For a terrible, terrible second, you don’t respond and Dazai thinks you might be about to press more. He’s not sure if he can handle that. He just needs you to go to your meeting so it’s one less thing that he’s fucked up for you. He needs you to go.

“Okay,” you finally say after a few moments. “Okay. I’m going to get dressed.”

The breath that Dazai lets out is too heavy and too relieved. He doesn’t dare to look up until he hears you shuffle off of the bed and make your way to your closet. His eyes slide shut as he leans his head against the wall he’d backed himself against, forcibly calming his unsteady heart.

After a few minutes, you finally come to kneel in front of him, dressed in your suit and ready to head out. He looks up at you, hoping he doesn’t look nearly as much of a mess as he feels, but he thinks he fails because the conflicted expression on your face only becomes even more worried.

“Please go,” he repeats, voice raspy.

You sigh, gaze lowering to the ground, but you nod so Dazai can only feel relief. His lashes flutter shut as you lean in to brush your lips against his forehead and again, Dazai’s chest swarms with guilt and self-loathing because he wishes he could just be normal.

“I’ll order you some takeout,” you finally say as you lean back to look at him again. “I probably won’t be back until late tonight. You have any preferences for lunch and dinner?”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows. “Crab?” he asks, voice too strained for comfort.

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “You’re not eating crab for lunch and dinner,” you say lightly, and Dazai smiles back a bit, but his smile feels a lot more wobbly than yours looks. “I’ll order it for lunch, I’ll pick dinner.”

Dazai’s nose wrinkles. “No mushrooms.”

“No mushrooms,” you agree as you rise to your feet. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Call me if you need anything.”

He definitely won’t, but he nods anyway. “See you,” he whispers.

You don’t immediately walk away, lips drawn tight as you look down at him. “I love you,” you say after a few moments and Dazai inhales sharply, gaze flickering up to you.

“... I love you too,” he echoes, the tightness in his chest easing when he sees how your expression smooths out at his words. You linger for a few seconds longer before sighing and leaving your bedroom without another word.

Dazai doesn’t budge until he hears the elevator bing, signaling its arrival to your floor.

Even when he’s sure that it’s gone—and you with it—he doesn’t move. 

He doesn’t want to. His hands sting where he’d pushed you away from him and his legs feel bolted to the ground beneath him. He can hear his phone buzzing somewhere in front of him, probably tangled in the sheets he’d dragged off of the bed with him. He knows that he should get up and check—the meeting is in two hours and Dazai not only needs to get dressed, but he needs to figure out how he’s going to sneak out of this building without alerting any of your subordinates.

For you, he reminds himself as he sighs and pushes himself to his hands and knees and drags himself over to the mess of sheets on the ground, rifling through them until his hand closes around his cell phone. He’ll go to the meeting, get the information, and come back before you’re even finished with work… before that actually, he’ll need to get back by noon when you send someone here with takeout. If they show up and he’s not here, they’ll definitely report that back to you and he doesn’t want you to know that he’s going out because that’ll just cause you more stress and the whole point of this is to try to lessen your burden.

He unlocks his phone to see a few messages in the group chat and he cringes as soon as he reads them.

Koda Hinami: Is it okay if we meet a bit later today? I have an appointment in Tokyo and the soonest train I can catch is at 14:30.

Professor Ui: Does 15:30 work?

Otsuka Ayato: good with me, i’m free all day

Koda Hinami: Yup! That’s perfect.

Professor Ui: Dazai-kun?

Dazai supposes that this gives him more time at least—he doesn’t have to rush back before you send food for lunch. He doubts that you’ll be back before nightfall, and you probably won’t send dinner until 19:00 so that gives him almost four hours, which is more than enough time. He can spend the morning plotting out how he’s going to get out of the building without being seen.

Dazai: that works

He puts his phone back on the charger, a bit more pep in his step as he tells himself that he’ll make everything up to you. He pushes away all of the thoughts plaguing him, dressing himself in one of the outfits he’d left at your apartment. Those nagging feelings of doubt and self-loathing linger in spite of his attempts to shoo them away, but he does his best to ignore it. He needs to get himself into a better mood before seeing his professor and classmates—he doubts they would notice, but on the off chance they did, he needed to be ready to distract them from it in some way and he most definitely is not ready for that now.

But he has time now, so-

Was that the elevator?

Dazai’s head whips to the side to look out your bedroom door just as he finishes pulling on the new sweater you bought him. He creeps out of your bedroom slowly, wondering if you came back because you forgot something, but when he steps out of your room to the top of the staircase, he freezes because it is not you standing in the living room but instead a different, but unfortunately familiar, face.

Great, he thinks bitterly, expression twisting into distaste when he sees Nakahara Chuuya leaning on a pair of crutches. The man looks equally irate at the sight of Dazai standing on the balcony, making no effort to hide the way he scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Why are you here?” Dazai asks, eyes squinted as he stares down at the other man. 

He looks awful and Dazai isn’t sure why it makes him feel smug, but it does. Chuuya looks like he’s hardly able to hold himself up, leaning heavily on his crutches, face pale and beaded with sweat. He’s dressed in a thin t-shirt and sweats, so Dazai can see the aggravated scars running up his arms, but his eyes can’t help but linger on Chuuya’s hand. 

His left hand—the same one that had torn through your body, that had killed you, the same one that had tried and failed to kill him. If Dazai looks hard enough, he swears he can see the rot spreading across the other man’s skin again, from his fingertips to his wrist to his elbow, as Arahabaki takes back over, so Dazai forces his gaze back up to his face.

All of the aggression that had been plain on Chuuya’s face disappears when he notices where Dazai was looking. He shakes his head and asks roughly, “Where the hell is she?”

Dazai scowls. “Why do you want to know?” 

“You little-” Chuuya hisses, gaze sharpening. “Where is she?”

Just to be annoying, and because Dazai has no sense of self-preservation, he asks, “Why should I tell you?”

“I’m going to rip your head off,” Chuuya spits out, unnervingly quick on his crutches as he makes his way over to the staircase. Dazai darts into your bedroom, hand on the door so he can quickly slam it shut if Chuuya tries to come closer, although he’s not sure if a door is going to be enough to stop him. “Get back here.”

“You tried that already,” Dazai says lightly, watching Chuuya’s reaction carefully. “You failed, remember? … Or that’s right, you wouldn’t, would you? What’s his face… Fireboy? He mentioned that you probably wouldn’t… So, was he right? How much do you remember?”

Chuuya’s entire expression shifts at Dazai’s words, lips tightening and gaze averting down to the ground. The shame is clear on his face as he lets out a sigh, glancing up to see the bruises around Dazai’s neck just too shake his head and look away again.

“Enough,” he says quietly. “I remember enough.”

Dazai tilts his head to the side as he examines Chuuya. The scars on his arms indicate the shadow of Arahabaki’s presence in his body—Arahabaki, the violent and destructive god who had killed you and tried to kill Dazai. He expected to be more anxious around, or even scared of, Chuuya after what happened. He supposes he is to some extent, he can feel the itchiness on his tongue that always signals those unwelcome emotions approaching, but Dazai thinks it’s not because of Chuuya himself like he expected—he still feels the ever present urge to antagonize the man due to petty jealousy and the acute irritation his appearance and existence in general causes him.

 It’s natural, he rationalizes. It’s not like Chuuya is Arahabaki or Arahabaki is him, so there’s no reason for Dazai to be scared of Nakahara Chuuya. Arahabaki, on the other hand… he watched you die to it and he nearly died himself, although the former is decidedly more traumatizing, so it makes sense. But Dazai has never been fond of fear, he’s learned through his own experiences alone in Suribachi and from Odasaku that it’s the most treacherous emotion, the quickest to kill, so he’s swift in his efforts to channel those lingering nerves that Arahabaki is causing into an emotion he’s much more capable of processing: curiosity.

To kill fear of something that’s mostly unknown to him, it must first become known.

He doesn’t know much about Arahabaki, only the few vague things you mentioned and the fact that it seems to be incapable of touching Dazai without being neutralized, which Dazai supposes he can also use as a blanket of security. But he has to know more.

“Can you speak to it?” Dazai blurts out, unable to help himself from firing out the question, hardly holding back the forty more.

“What?” Chuuya asks, voice flat.

“Arahabaki,” Dazai says, and then adds, “obviously.”

Chuuya gives him a withering look and instead of responding, he repeats his question from earlier. “Where is she?”

Dazai’s lips flatten as he squints again, not appreciating the way the man blew off his question entirely, but this time he decides to respond. “She went to an executive meeting, shouldn’t you be there if you’re up and about?”

“I thought I could catch her before she left,” Chuuya sighs, suddenly looking very tired, which naturally piques Dazai’s interest because why was he trying to catch you before you left? “I’m not supposed to be up yet. Doc’s gonna fuckin’ skin me alive when he finds me.”

“Why were you looking for her?” Dazai prods.

Chuuya pointedly doesn’t respond, side-eyeing Dazai before turning to walk back down the stairs. Dazai’s jaw drops in disbelief at the way he was so blatantly ignored and darts forward, kicking his leg out to drive it into the back of Chuuya’s knee. He’s smug when the other man lets out a surprised yelp, knee buckling as he drops; he’s not quite as smug when he steadies himself with his ability and turns back to Dazai, eyes blazing.

“I’m going to kill you, you shitty bastard,” Chuuya spits out and Dazai’s eyes widen as he darts right back into your bedroom, slamming the door shut hard behind him. “Do you really think that’s going to stop me, you dumb fuck?”

Dazai presses his full body weight against the door as Chuuya drives his shoulder into it to force it open. He’s the one yelping now as he goes sprawling forward onto your floor when Chuuya pushes the door open so hard that it comes off the top hinge.

“She’ll kill you if you kill me in her apartment,” Dazai threatens before he can take another step forward, voice a bit too squeaky for comfort. “She will.”

Chuuya sounds and looks like an angry bull when he lets out a heavy breath as he tries to calm himself. Dazai almost comments on it, but he bites his tongue. He might seem to be impervious to the man’s gravity manipulating powers, but he’s not quite as impervious to the brute force he’s capable of.

“What the fuck was that for?” Chuuya hisses.

“I asked you a question,” Dazai says, raising his chin as he stands back up and looks down at Chuuya, enjoying the way the mafioso’s eye twitches when he has to look up to meet his gaze. “You ignored me.”

“You-” Chuuya begins before taking a deep breath again. “I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

“But why?”

Chuuya doesn’t look amused by Dazai’s insistence, but that only makes Dazai more insistent. He clearly had a reason for seeking you out and it must’ve been an important one considering how upset he seemed after realizing that you’d left already, and nobody could really blame Dazai for being curious.

Chuuya stares at Dazai for a second before sighing. “She’s… not doing good. Boss has been putting her through the wringer lately and Piano Man said it was even worse yesterday, probably gonna be just as bad today. I wanted to check in on her before she left.”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows, suddenly all of the amusement he was getting out of irritating Chuuya withers away as the man’s words register. He knew you weren’t doing good—he knew it, he could tell from the tense expression you had whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, could tell from the way your laughs and words seemed strained, could tell from the way your smile was frayed at the edges. It’s why he doesn’t want to come to you with another issue and no solution, but hearing it from someone else…

“Don’t feel bad if you didn’t notice,” Chuuya starts to say, noticing the expression on Dazai’s face. “I’m sure she’s careful to put up a front to not worry you, does that with everyone, but she’d do it especially with y-”

“I noticed,” Dazai says, bristling. “I just… Why is he putting her through the wringer? How?” 

Chuuya looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to respond, and Dazai has his answer.

“Because of me,” he realizes, a lump in his throat.

“No,” Chuuya snaps before hesitating. “Not just you. He blames this whole shitshow with the Guild on her, and then there was the stuff with the Inagawa-kai and Shimazaki-kai-”

“Which happened because of me,” Dazai interjects, lashes lowering as he looks away. Dark claws pull at his heart again and Dazai can’t push them away this time.

“We were gonna go to war with them sooner or later anyway,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Whether it was then or later, doesn’t matter. Not on you or her.”

Dazai doesn’t think he agrees with that, and he doesn’t even think Chuuya agrees with that considering how he reacted to finding out that Dazai was the reason for you deciding to rush the attack on the Inagawa, but he doesn’t feel like arguing about it. Chuuya doesn’t let him anyway, starts talking before Dazai can get a word in.

“Now he’s pissed about the battle with Lovecraft and Steinbeck. I had to use Corruption, and I’m pretty sure he figured out that damned doctor from the Agency was the one to save her life,” he continues, grimacing. “He’s gonna hold that over her head.”

Oh? 

Dazai’s focus zeroes in on that, brows furrowing. He’d been wondering how you managed to survive the wound Arahabaki dealt but every time he asks you, you evade.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Chuuya asks brusquely, looking a bit startled almost, as if he’d forgotten he was talking to Dazai and had started venting on his own.

“Why is he going to hold it over her?” he asks carefully.

“That’s not for me to say,” Chuuya says after a few moments, much to Dazai’s frustration. “You’ll have to ask her-”

“She wouldn’t even tell me how she survived,” Dazai interrupts, annoyed. “I just want to… I want to understand what’s going on so I can help her.”

Chuuya looks conflicted, so Dazai takes the opportunity to press.

“I can’t help her if I don’t understand what’s going on, I can try to help. You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Dazai demands, and then adds through gritted teeth, “Please.”

“Did she… tell you about her past with the Boss? During the war?” Chuuya finally asks, leaning against the railing as he waits for Dazai to respond.

“She told me that he brought her in after her town was massacred,” Dazai tells him, fingers thrumming against his thigh. “That she spent two years trying to figure out how to use her ability to help him create an immortal military unit.”

Chuuya lets out a breath as he looks away. “She wasn’t the only one that the Boss had taken in. There was another girl—Yosano Akiko—who had the ability to bring people back from the brink of death over and over and over again. From what she’s told me, and that’s not much, Yosano was prodigious with her ability and she… wasn’t. The Boss held it over her, pit the two of them against each other and to this day, compares her to Yosano. It’s a… touchy subject for her, I’m not surprised she evades it.”

Dazai’s face twists. “But she’s good at using her ability now,” he protests even though he knows it’s not that simple.

“I know,” Chuuya says, voice solemn. “Doesn’t matter though. It’ll never be enough—not for her or for him.”

Dazai has never met the Boss of the Port Mafia, but he thinks that he hates him more than anyone else Dazai has ever known. A bitter feeling claws at his chest as he thinks of a much younger you being rescued from a warzone only to find yourself in the hands of a cruel and manipulative man that guises as your savior. Dazai is not a man who has ever been inclined to turn to violence—he much prefers battles of wits—but god, if his fingers don’t twitch for it now.

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them, tight and angry: “He’s a piece of shit.”

Chuuya stares at Dazai for a moment in disbelief before barking out a laugh and then promptly slapping his hand over his mouth and forcing himself to quiet down. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says dutifully. “He’s still the Boss.”

“Your boss, not mine.” Dazai rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” Chuuya replies dryly, ever clever in his response. “I’m going to go try to run into her before Doc manages to sniff me out… Don’t do anything stupid while she’s gone.”

Dazai gives Chuuya a side eye. “Wasn’t planning to,” he lies, possibly. He hasn’t decided yet if going to this meeting is a stupid idea—it might be, but the rewards outweigh the risks anyway.

Chuuya stares at him for a second suspiciously. “Whatever,” he repeats, so astute. He hesitates as he moves to leave and Dazai raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to say whatever might be running through the slow brain of his.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Chuuya asks after a few moments, looking uncharacteristically unguarded as he stares at Dazai, waiting for an answer.

“Why would I be scared of someone the size of a slug?” Dazai counters, giving Chuuya a simpering smile as the man’s face immediately tightens in anger.

“You’re incorrigible,” Chuuya spits.

“Big word for such a small brain,” he taunts, “did she teach you it?”

Chuuya doesn’t even respond, hissing out insults under his breath as he promptly makes his way back down the stairs. 

Dazai is unbearably pleased with himself as he gives the ginger a mocking wave while he waits for the elevator, leaning over the railing looking down at the first floor. Chuuya promptly flips Dazai off, face so red that it clashes painfully with his hair.

As soon as Chuuya’s in the elevator and out of sight, Dazai disregards the warning and begins the first phase of his plan—finding your laptop to see if you happen to have a layout of the building anywhere on it so he can figure out how to sneak out—suddenly feeling significantly more inspired to do whatever he can to ease the burden that’s been placed on you.

You know something is wrong when you get up to your apartment and find it dead silent—there’s no trashy reality show playing in the living room, no sound of that new fighting game that Dazai had bought on your card, no excited call of your name because you came home early with food instead of sending someone with it. The elevator closes behind you and the takeout in your left hand weighs uncomfortably heavy, your gaze draws from the hallway leading to the guest room over to the kitchen.

He’s not in the living room and you don’t see him in the kitchen, so you look up at the stairs leading to your bedroom. Maybe he went back to sleep—you could tell this morning that he hadn’t slept much, if at all, last night, and when Albatross stopped by with lunch for him (after much complaining, naturally), he said that Dazai looked half dead on his feet. 

It’s why you made sure to finish up your last meeting early—it was a video call with Tolstoy anyway, he didn’t mind you running out early, only wanted to let you know that he had to go with Repin to New York but could be in Yokohama by the end of the day on Thursday if you needed. You don’t really want to rely on the Three Deaths for help in this conflict, it would make the Port Mafia look weak, but depending on how this vote goes in the Diet on Friday, you might not have a choice. The Port Mafia isn’t in the position to handle the full force of the Guild and the military at the same time. 

Why didn’t he come down when he heard the elevator?

You place the food down on the table in the living room before making your way to the staircase. He must be up there, so you don’t know why you suddenly feel so dreadful and you don’t know why it’s suddenly hard for you to make yourself move forward, like you’re walking through waist-deep water and the current is running against you. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

He’s sleeping.

Since when was your staircase so long, it feels like each step you go up, ten more appear in front of you. You’re half convinced that it’s an ability messing with you and not just your mind playing tricks.

He’s a light sleeper. He would’ve woken up.

By the time you get up to your apartment, you know he won’t be there, but your heart still sinks to your feet when you push your door open and see the bed empty and the bathroom door open. 

Dazai is nowhere to be seen.

Your lashes flutter as you force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. You’re stiff as you walk back out to the balcony looking over your apartment. Your voice is just as tense as you raise your voice to call: “Osamu?”

No response. 

Shit, you think, vision spinning a bit as you shut your eyes, counting your breaths as your heart rate spikes. Shit, where did he go? Did someone break in? No. No one could have gotten through the building’s security. He must have left… but why? Why would he do that when he knows how dangerous it is out there? How did he sneak out with no one noticing? It doesn’t make sense.

You shouldn’t have left this morning. You knew that you shouldn't have left the moment you stepped into the elevator, but he’d just been so distressed and the longer you lingered, the worse it got. It was only when you agreed to go that he finally started calming down, so you thought you were doing what was best for him, regardless of how it made you feel, but fuck, you should have known better.

You blame Mori. You always blame Mori, but the bitterness and anger is so intense now that it has your blood pressure skyrocketing. He’s been keeping you busy on purpose—busy and angry and stressed—you’ve hardly even gotten the chance to talk to Dazai since everything that happened. When you do have time with him, you’re either exhausted or in a bad mood trying to mask it from him. He watched Arahabaki kill you, he almost died, and-

And he killed someone.

It’s a fact that you've yet to fully acknowledge yourself; it makes you sick with guilt and self-loathing, knowing that it’s your fault that it happened and that you had promised him it wouldn’t. And it’s selfish because it means he’s been coping on his own and how is a twenty-two year old kid whose biggest problem three weeks ago was a group project supposed to cope with the fact that he killed someone?

This morning had been a red flag—one that you should’ve listened to, but instead, you took the easy way out. You didn’t know what to do without being able to use your ability to calm someone down, you’ve done it for Chuuya countless times, Klaus and Akutagawa too, but for Dazai, you could only watch as he worked himself up into a panic attack over everything that happened, the only thing seemingly calming him down being you leaving. So you left. 

But you should have stayed. You never should have left him—not yesterday after the attack, not this morning. He doesn’t belong in this life, he never has, but you dragged him into it anyway and now what? You’re leaving him to process it on his own? You’re leaving him to cope with the consequences of your actions? Your selfishness? What else was supposed to happen besides him getting overwhelmed and having a breakdown over it? 

Of course he ran—you can’t blame him, how else is he supposed to react to all of this? There’s no way that the average kid would ever be able to come to terms with what had happened yesterday, especially not alone, without any sort of support system to help him. Cooped up in your apartment with only his own mind as company—of course he ran.

You had been his life jacket and you had left him to drown. 

You need to find him. He had to have gone back to his apartment, unless…

Your throat feels tight as you swallow, remembering the morning you woke up to the call from the hospital.

Fuck, you have to-

The elevator?

Your gaze cuts down to the first floor of your apartment, watching as the elevator doors slide open. You watch with bated breath as you wait for whoever came up to your apartment to step out of the elevator, fingers wrapped tight around your phone. 

It’s only when a familiar head of brown hair steps out of it can you finally breathe.

Dazai doesn’t look half as much of the mess he was this morning—there’s more of a pep to his step, his face doesn’t look as gaunt and pale, he’s dressed in one of the cashmere sweaters and comfortable dress pants you bought him. He looks… good, like he did before everything that happened—untainted by all of the darkness you’ve brought into his life.

What changed from this morning?

He freezes as soon as he sees the takeout that you dropped on the coffee table, shrugging his backpack off of his shoulders and dropping it to the ground near where you hang your jackets. His eyes are wide as he looks around the apartment trying to pinpoint where you are, it takes him a few seconds before he finally looks up and sees you staring down at him from the balcony.

The smile he gives you is nervous and it puts you on edge. 

“Hi,” he says sheepishly. “You’re back early.”

You’re relieved—you are. He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s back. He didn’t run off and get himself hurt, or worse. The Guild didn’t get their hands on him. He’s safe and you’re relieved. 

So why are you still so tense and angry?

“What did you get to eat?” he presses, creeping forward to look at the bag of food on the table. He sniffs as he peeks inside. “Chinese?”

“Where were you?” you finally ask. 

Your voice sounds distant even to your own ears, your body feels tense no matter how much you try to relax. Dazai looks up at you with wide eyes, a hesitant expression on his face like he doesn’t want to admit to wherever he went and you can hear blood rushing through your ears as frustration washes over you. 

God, you’ve just spent a whole day dealing with Mori and various other unsavory people—you’d been looking forward to coming home to Dazai and now he’s pulling this. You know you need to calm down, that you shouldn’t take out your general irritation of the day onto him when he’s already had a rough few days, but fuck the least he could do is-

“I went for a walk.”

The least he could do is not lie to you.

“You went for a walk,” you echo flatly.

“Mhm. I went for a walk,” he agrees.

You stare down at him from the balcony, not budging an inch. Dazai shifts uncomfortably under your stare, and a part of you thinks you should go downstairs and just drop this but you can’t. Dazai is lying to you—why he’s lying to you is an issue in itself, but you’re more concerned with knowing where he actually went because you need to make sure that no public CCTV tapes caught him going to and from the headquarters.

“Where did you walk to?” you ask, voice tight.

“Just… around.”

You inhale sharply and look away, biting your tongue to force yourself to calm down. “Osamu,” you say his name, low with warning when he tries to evade answering the question properly. 

He bristles. “I didn’t realize I was under house arrest,” he says defensively, raising his voice a little.

Your eye twitches as you take a sharp breath and step away from the balcony. You pace a few steps back to your room and look up at the ceiling, willing yourself the patience to not let this blow up into an argument. It’s the last thing the two of you need right now, but god he’s making it difficult.

After a few moments, you drag yourself back over to the staircase. This time, instead of leaning against the railing and looking down at him, you make your way down the steps so you can stand in front of him, arms folded across your chest. Dazai looks guilty already, chewing the inside of his cheek as he refuses to look you in the eye. 

“Osamu, I’ve had a long day. Please just tell me where you went so I can make sure no cameras caught you going to and from the headquarters,” you say tiredly. “You’re not under house arrest, I just-we need to be careful the next few weeks, okay? Just until things calm down.”

“I just went to the school,” Dazai finally admits.

Instantly, your brows are furrowing. “The school?” you question, confused. “You don’t have classes today after twelve. Why did you go there? And why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve had Albatross drive you.”

The way Dazai refuses to meet your eyes is unsettling. You feel even more on edge than before as you wait for him to respond. Fuck, you just wanted to have a glass of wine and watch him play one of his stupid games. 

“It wasn’t for class, I was meeting people for a group project,” he says after a few moments, pointedly not answering your second question.

A group project.

The only ‘group project’ he has is for his journalism class… and the fact that he didn’t tell you so you could have someone drive him…

“You met with Ui,” you realize, staring blankly at Dazai. “Why?”

“I was helping,” Dazai says and however much on edge you might’ve been before, you’re even more now. “I was-”

“You were helping?” you ask, not sure what that might mean and not even sure if you want to know. 

Ui is bad news and for Dazai to go out to meet him now of all times… He’s supposed to be smart. You rub your face with your hands, feeling the tightly wound cord that’s been threatening to snap for the past twenty-four hours becoming even more strained. It’s only a matter of time before it does snap and you don’t want Dazai to take the brunt of your anger, not when most of it is directed at Mori.

“I was!” Dazai insists, voice getting louder. You can see the way his fists are closing and opening at his sides and how his nails leave bloody crescents in his palms. You tell yourself to calm down and talk this out with him, that you’re both not in the best mental states and you need to be lenient with him, but his next words are enough to send you teetering off the edge. “I was helping, I helped. He texted last night saying he had a tip-off about our project and I went to go figure out what it was so I could warn you.”

What the fuck?

“Why on earth would you ever go there on your own?” you hiss, just barely maintaining enough control to not raise your voice at him. “Especially after what happened yesterday. The Guild knows about you, Osamu. It could’ve been a set up.”

God, you almost want to rip out your hair. In what world could he have possibly thought that was a good idea. The Ivory Eagle getting a tip-off the same night after a major conflict with the Guild is not a coincidence and you should probably be more focused on that than you are, but you just can’t get over Dazai’s stupidity. 

If he had used that brain that you know he has, he would have realized it was no coincidence. The Guild must have gone to the Ivory Eagle with information about the Port Mafia and considering that Steinbeck made a comment about Fitzgerald getting the confirmation he needed about Dazai…

Fuck, you feel sick. 

“Oh yeah, because my professor is going to set me up to be captured by a criminal organization, right,” he says sarcastically.

“You don’t know shit about this world, Osamu,” you snap at him, taking a step closer but he doesn’t budge, unrepentant. “The lengths people will go to so they can take the Mafia down. Do you even know why the Ivory Eagle is so set on us?”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters-”

“No, it doesn’t,” he interrupts, voice pitched with hysteria. “What matters is that I helped. I got the information you need and-and I can help more. I can help more, I’m not incapable, I don’t need to be a liability anymore. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me. I-“

What is your life? 

You almost want to cry as you shake your head and take a step away and press your hands to your lips. You can’t do this right now—not after the day you had today and yesterday, you’re going to snap and say something you regret. You need to end this conversation before it goes any further.

“No. No, I am not having this conversation with you. Sit down on the couch, eat the food I bought and be quiet.” 

“I’m having this conversation,” Dazai, much to your distress, presses the conversation. “I’m tired of being a liability, I want to be helpful-“

Helpful? What is he even getting at? He better not be getting at what you think he’s getting at?

“What the fuck, Osamu?” you demand. “You’re not a liability, where is this coming from?”

“If I’m not a liability then let me help-“

Oh my god.

“No.”

“Why?” He sounds more like he’s begging than arguing now and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat because you don’t know what you’ve done to make him feel like he’s a liability to you, and more importantly, you don’t know how to fix it. “I can do it. I can. And this way, there doesn’t have to be push back from your friends about us—not if I’m part of the organization too, and-”

What the fuck is your life?

You can’t even hide the way your expression twists at his words, can’t hide the way you instinctually step away from him, can’t hide the way that your hands tremble so you stuff them in your pockets and shake your head furiously. A part of you wants to believe that you’d just imagined those last few words but they ring so soundly through your head that you know you didn’t.

“What the f…” You don’t even know what to say as you stare at him in disbelief. He’s still talking, you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear anything. Your ears are ringing and you’re desperately trying to make sure the wound up cord inside you doesn’t snap. “Hold on. Hold on. You are not part of this life, Osamu. You’re a civilian-“

“I killed someone,” Dazai cries out. His voice wavers and cracks, his eyes are wide and wild, and his hands are shaking just as much as yours but he’s not even thinking straight enough to hide them like he usually would. “What type of civilian kills people? I don’t-I don’t belong there anymore. I don’t belong there, I belong with you.”

“You killed one person in self defense, someone who was trying to kill us. That’s nothing compared to being in the Mafia, Osamu.” You try to calm him down but you don’t think there’s any calming him down now and you feel sick at the sight of him collapsing like this. You do your best to soften your tone as you continue, “Why would you want to be in the Mafia? Come on, Osamu, you’ve got good things going for you, your friend’s book to write, you don’t want this.”

“I can’t just go back to worrying about classes and homework after all of this,” he says, voice pitched as he shakes his head and tugs his hair a bit. “I can’t. I don’t belong there, I belong here, I stopped being a civilian the moment you let me into your life-”

“That’s not fair,” you breathe out, shaking your head. “That is not fair, Osamu. You forced yourself into my life just as much as I let you into it. That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth. You could’ve cut me off at any point and you know that. You admitted it,” he hisses at you, throwing your words back into your face and it feels like a slap. “So, you can’t sit there and judge me for trying to make the most of it so things can be easier on both of us. I can do this. I belong here, belong with you. I helped you figure out how to try to get the Guild out of Yokohama, I sat there and helped you with plans, I killed someone, and I got this information for you—the Port Mafia would’ve stumbled right into the trap if I hadn’t. And you should be thanking me. You should be thanking me.”

Just like that, the cord snaps.

“This isn’t something to be fucking proud of, Osamu,” you shout at him, but he doesn’t even flinch, stands his ground about what he wants and it only pisses you off more. “None of this is shit to be proud of. Do you think I’m proud of who I am? You think Chuuya, or the Flags, or Klaus are? Do you think any of us are proud of what we do? Fuck, Osamu, how can you sit here and ask me to let you be part of this?”

“Because I could help. I could help you. Arahabaki couldn’t kill me, couldn’t even touch me—I could help, I could be the one sent to handle it instead of you. And-and I could do more, no one would expect a college kid to be part of the Mafia, I’d be able to get information for you, and I could-”

“Enough!” Your voice goes hoarse as you yell at him, unable to listen to this anymore. “Enough, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t see the way Dazai’s face falls at your words, the crestfallen expression that crosses over his face as soon as your words process through his head. You turn away from him, breathing heavily because you think you feel nauseous. 

How the fuck did this happen? 

You can’t let anyone find out about Dazai—his type of ability, the nullification, not even the West has developed anti-ability technology to this degree, they would kill to get their hands on Dazai. They’d put the bounty that had been on Atsushi to shame and you wouldn’t be able to protect him. He’d spend the rest of his life in labs being experimented on so they could replicate his ability in weapons.

Your phone starts ringing and you don’t even look to see who it is before you’re muttering out an excuse to Dazai and lifting it to your ear, pacing back to the stairs to go up to your bedroom for a few minutes alone to calm yourself down.

Except naturally, the person on the other line only induces more stress in you.

“How prompt, you’re not usually so quick to answer the phone when you’re with that little distraction of yours, little hime… lover’s spat, perhaps?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I thought you were someone else,” you say, voice dry and sharp. “Why are you calling me so late? Haven’t I seen enough of you today?” 

Mori laughs airly on the opposite line. “My, your time spent with that boy has sharpened your tongue… To think that all it would take for you to start stepping out of your shell is this…”

“I’m not in the mood,” you cut him off before he can continue, tongue running along the back of your teeth in frustration. “What do you want?” 

“There’s an issue at a warehouse by our ports in Shinko. The ones with the weapons being ready for transportation to Brazil. Take your subordinate and go ensure nothing is out of order—we can’t afford to be late on another shipment to Machado considering you redirected the last one to Paz.”

Instantly, you’re rolling your eyes. “Shinko is Ace’s port. Send him to get control over his territory,” you snap. “I’m busy.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve asked you. So, you’ll be going. You’ve caused enough trouble the past few weeks, I recommend you do as told without making a fuss.”

You grit your teeth but you bite back the next comment threatening to spill from your lips. Instead, you ask tightly, “What’s the issue there? What am I walking into?” 

Mori doesn’t respond for a moment. “... I’m not sure. Ace got word from one of his subordinates that something was going down there, but the line went dead before he could get a response. Our cameras are down. Take your subordinate, I can have the Black Lizards ready if you wish too.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, wandering over to your closet to grab one of your longer dark jackets. As you shrug it over your shoulders, you say, “I’ll go figure it out. I’m not making it into a big operation.”

Mori sighs. “If that’s what you want… Call me once you’re done.”

You roll your eyes as you hang up the phone, stuffing it in your pocket before leaving your room. “Look, Osamu,” you say loudly as you head down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that escalate like that. I have to head out for a bit but…”

Your voice trails off when you make it down the steps and find that Dazai is nowhere to be seen. Instantly, that sick, dreadful feeling returns.

“Osamu?” you call louder, voice a bit more strained, cracking over his name. 

No response.

Fuck.

“Fuck!” you shout, slamming your hands against the back of the couch before resting on it, trying to push back the nausea that builds up quickly in your through. 

You fumble for your phone, finding Dazai’s contact so you can call him but your hopes are quashed when you hear it buzzing on the floor near where you’re standing—must’ve fallen out of his pocket in his rush to leave. Your vision blurs and your eyes sting with tears, your breath becomes so shuddered that you think you might be on the verge of a panic attack.

God, you can’t even remember the last time you cried, but your cheeks are unmistakably wet and there’s no torrential downpour for you to mask them with.

Now’s not the time to cry, though. You need to move. The ports are on the way to Dazai’s apartment—you’ll check out what’s happening there and if there’s some sort of disturbance, you’ll… shit, you don’t even know. Chuuya is out of commission from Corruption, Akutagawa is out of commission because the wounds he received from Arahabaki aggravated his respiratory issue, and Klaus is out of commission because he’s still suffering the effects of using his ability to heal himself as much as he did.

Maybe you’ll see if Iceman and Albatross can handle it, but Albatross already did you a favor today…

You’ll figure it out as you drive there. You can’t waste time on it now, you need to get moving. The quicker you get to the ports, the better.

Because you need to get to Dazai. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your words ring through Dazai’s head on repeat as he stumbles down the sidewalks in the direction of his apartment complex. He can hardly even breathe, his breath is ragged and uneven and his vision is so blurry that he can hardly see where he’s stepping.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Dazai doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He’s always known that there was something wrong with him—it’s why people could hardly stand to look at him, why his mother killed herself, why his aunt abandoned him, why no matter how hard he tried to be likable, people still turned their back to him. He’s always known there was something fundamentally wrong with him, but when he’s with you, you make him forget that. 

You make him feel normal. Make him feel human. Like there was never anything wrong with him, but it was everyone else in the world who was wrong instead. Like he didn’t deserve everything bad that’s happened to him. 

Dazai has never had faith in anything—not in any god because that would mean he had to admit that even god had forsaken him and certainly not in himself because Dazai has only ever failed himself, but he had faith in you. He let himself have hope when he was with you because you looked at him like he was worthy of being loved, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered to you.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You looked at Dazai like you’ve never really seen him before that moment and he just… He couldn’t stay there, not with you looking at him like that, not when he realized the day that he’s been dreading has finally come to pass. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You’ve finally seen what everyone else does when they look at him. He knew this day was coming. He knew it, and he knew he’d been pressing his luck, that he was on borrowed time, but he had hope. He had hope that maybe this time would be different, that someone would see past all of his fronts and love him for him but he should’ve known better. Dazai is not someone capable of being loved. His own blood scorned and rejected him, the woman who gave birth to him killed herself to be free of him—Dazai is not someone capable of being loved. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

He hiccups over another intake of air, tripping over uneven ground before steadying himself against the brickwall of a nearby building. He can see his apartment complex in the distance, it’s not far now, but Dazai feels sick. He feels sick and he can hardly breathe and-

And he misses you. He wants to go back to your apartment even if he’s met with contemptuous looks and rejection. He presses his hand to his mouth to hide the way he nearly chokes over a dry sob, feeling far too lost and alone. If he doesn’t belong with you, he doesn’t belong with anyone. Doesn’t belong anywhere. He wants to call you and ask you to come get him just to see if you’ll show, but he’s too scared that you won’t—and he doesn’t feel the familiar weight of his phone in his pocket anyway.

He forces himself to keep moving forward. He’s tired and it’s cold and Dazai just wants to lay in his cheap futon and cling to the thinning hope that you might come for him even if you did think he was a monster just like the rest of the world.

His feet drag against the concrete, the noise around him drowns out and his surroundings blur together, he keeps his gaze pinned to the ground as he moves forward. 

What is wrong with him? He’d known you were stressed with work, Nakahara Chuuya had told him that you were doing a lot worse than you were letting on, and he thought going out and putting himself in danger would be helpful… He’d just been so blinded by the idea of doing something useful…

It’s not until he gets to the steps of the complex that he realizes something is wrong. That someone is watching him. His gaze lifts as he looks around, eyes wide—for a moment, he doesn’t see anybody and he’s about to rush into the building but then he sees the shadow of a figure shift out of the overhang, waving his hand in the air.

“There you are, we’ve been waiting for ya,” a cheerful voice greets and Dazai’s hair stands on end as his gaze focuses on an unfamiliar redhead. He has an accent—American—and holds a handgun haphazardly in the hand he’s waving. “Damn, you look like you’ve had a shit night.”

This must be a member of the Guild.

You were right—they have been looking for Dazai and he… he just walked right into their hands. He lets out a breath, gaze darting up to the gun before swiveling around the area. He can’t outrun a gun, but he doubts that they’re going to shoot to kill if they plan to use him against you. If he could at least get a bit further out on the sidewalk… you have your subordinates monitor those cameras, they would see him get taken and report to you and-

And you would come for him. You would. You had to. 

Right?

“Thanks for the flashdrive, by the way,” the man grins as he bounds down the steps closer to Dazai. Dazai takes steps back to match the steps the Guild member takes forward, hoping that he can get far enough into the view of the cameras. “We can finally get little miss princess out of the way. Now that girl is a piece of work, takin’ this city’s gonna be much easier with her behind bars.”

Dazai stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” he breathes out. “What did you just say?”

His smile sharpens as he lifts his hand, showing off a very familiar hard drive tucked between his middle and index finger. “Gotta give you props, we’ve been trying for so long to get something to hold over her. She’s one slippery bitch, that’s for sure. And she’s got way too many allies. I kinda wanted to meet her just to see what all of the hype is about, but guess I’m not gonna get the chance.”

Dazai can hardly think—or, he is thinking but he’s thinking too much, so much that he can’t even tell one thought from the next because they’re all tumbling over each other and jumbling together.

“Give me that,” Dazai whispers before steadying his voice. “Give me that back now.”

The redhead shrugs and tosses him the flash drive. He cradles it to his chest instantly, throat spasming as he swallows.

“Sure,” the other man says. “Not like it matters, damage is already done. Hear that?”

Dazai becomes acutely aware of the sirens in the distance and he shakes his head, not willing to believe what’s happening. He-he can’t even do anything—he can’t call you to warn you, can’t out run a gun. Dazai feels so frustrated that he’s almost sick again. He’s never felt so entirely helpless before, never not been able to think his way out of a situation.

This is all his fault. 

He never should have sought out this footage, he should’ve destroyed it ages ago. He can never do anything right. He understands now why so many people were against him being in your life and for a brief second, he wishes that they’d succeeded in convincing you to cut him off because you’d be better off that way.

This is his fault.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Sorry kid,” he sighs lazily, not sounding sorry at all. “I fear I’m boutta make your shitty night a whole lot worse. Go on, James. Let’s bring him in.”

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to react when he catches movement from the corner of his eye, a baton cracks against the side of his head so hard that his brain rattles against his skull and he doesn’t even register hitting the ground until he can feel the cool concrete against the side of his face.

Dazai’s vision blurs before it starts fading in and out, his body limp and uncooperative even as he tries to drag himself away from his assailants. He feels two hands grab him and hoist him over their shoulder, and as his body finally starts to succumb to the tantalizing lull of darkness, all he can think of is you.

I’m sorry, he thinks, wishing you could hear him. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorryimsorryi-

You hear police sirens in the distance as you arrive at the ferry leading to Shinko. It takes about five seconds for irritation to cloud your mind, realizing that the ferrymaster is not, in fact, waiting for you even though you called Ace and told him to have the ferry ready for you so you can check this out as soon as possible. You hate that despicable man but you need to get to Dazai, so speaking to him was a displeasure you were forced to deal with.

What a bastard, you think bitterly, shooting a text to Albatross to ask if he’s busy. You sigh as you lean against the cool wall, tilting your head up to look up at the colors the setting sun paints across the sky as you wait for a response.

You never should’ve let that fight escalate.

The thought has been plaguing you since you left your apartment. You knew better. Dazai is a civilian, he’s struggling to cope with everything that’s happened, of course he’s going to feel out of place with other civilians after what he saw, after what he did. He’d already opened up to you about his struggles to fit in with people and you knew this would make those insecurities worse but…

But hearing him say that he belonged in the Mafia scared you. He doesn’t belong there and he seemed to well and truly believe that it was the only place for him. The thought of the likes of Mori getting his hands on Dazai’s nullifying ability… It scared you beyond words could describe. Dazai belongs with you, yes, but he doesn’t belong with the Mafia. 

Still, you shouldn’t have reacted the way you did. Of course he ran, he’d been on the verge of collapse and you yelled at him, you scorned him, he was lost and looking for something to hold onto, looking for you to tell him everything would be okay, and you walked away.

Your eyes sting again. Even though no one is around to bear witness, you still close them to hide the way they mist over with regret. You’ve made many mistakes in your life—mistakes that got Itou killed, mistakes that ruined Chuuya’s life, and now mistakes that might’ve pushed away the only person who you could safely say loved you for who you are, unconditionally and unrepentantly.

You only force yourself to reopen your eyes when you feel your phone buzzing again, hopefully Albatross responding to your text. Before you can even unlock your phone, there are several more texts coming through, too quick for you to read what they’re saying—Chuuya, Kouyou, Doc, Lippmann, Piano Man, Klaus. You straighten, a heavy feeling settling over you as you look down at your phone and get ready to click one of the messages from Kouyou.

It’s only when Iceman calls that you pick up.

“What’s going on?” you ask, your voice steady even if your throat spasms with nerves.

Is it Dazai? Did something happen to him?

“Where are you?” Iceman demands. “I’m in the car with Albatross. Give us your location now.”

“I’m at the ferry terminal leading to Shinko. What is going on? Is Os-Dazai okay?” you question sharply, fingers tight and trembling around your phone. “Iceman-”

“I don’t know shit about your boyfriend,” Iceman snaps. “Have you even seen the news?”

You pull your phone from your ear without another word, fingers trembling as you pull up the news app. Your ears ring with the approaching police sirens as you read the trending headline, vision swimming and a shaky breath escaping your lips as you lean your weight against the wall so you don’t crumple to the ground. 

Vice Chair of the Mori Corporation suspected of Mafia affiliation after the release of footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall. What does this mean for the rest of the Corporation?

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head as you stare down at the news article. You can hear Iceman and Albatross yelling on the opposite line, trying to get your attention, but you can hardly make out what they’re saying. The sound of the sirens is too loud, too near. “This isn’t real. We… got rid of the…”

“Footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall… you and the ginger with the ugly hat… splattered six guys against the wall.”

Dazai… what did you do?

No, he would never. No matter how upset he is at you. He would never hand over the footage. The real question is: what happened to him? How did they get ahold of the footage he’s been hiding? What did they do to him?

You feel sick as soon as the thought crosses your mind. The regret you felt moments before triples, quadruples, weighs on you so heavily that you think if you jumped in the bay, you would sink to the bottom. You never should have let the fight escalate, never should have given him the chance to leave.

You can see the flashing lights now, they’re rapidly closing in on you. You need to think—you don’t have much time left. You need to figure out how the Ivory Eagle got their hands on the video; they had to have gotten it through Dazai, but because Dazai would never give it up willingly… And the meeting about the tip-off right after the conflict with the Guild where Steinbeck confirmed that Fitzgerald knew about Dazai… 

The Guild must be involved. They must have worked with the journalists. They did the dirty work to get the footage from Dazai and passed it along to the journalists. You could send Klaus after the journalists, but it would condemn you if they were attacked or killed the day after they released an exposé on you. It would all but confirm your position in the mafia.

But Dazai could be in trouble.

And just like that, your decision is made.

“It’s too late, the cops are here,” you finally tell Iceman, “don’t bother coming.”

“But-”

“Shut up and listen to me, I don’t have much time,” you say sharply. “Ace set this up—have Piano Man call an executive meeting to have him executed. The Ivory Eagle journalism house. There’s a journalist called Ui Koutarou working there. He needs to be captured and interrogated immediately. Tonight. There’s a good chance that they worked with the Guild to get this video. Have Klaus do it, he’ll know what to do once he has the information… Kill the rest of them, I want them dead before I’m out on bail.”

“If we kill them now-”

“I know,” you spit. “I know what it means for me. I don’t care. Have it done.”

With Klaus behind the interrogation, as soon as Ui cracks and admits they had the Guild get the video through force from Dazai, he’ll know to go after the Guild to get to Dazai, and hopefully, Ui will have decent enough information about how he should go about it. If all goes well, Dazai will be back in your apartment and under a serious protection detail before you even get released from holding.

If it doesn’t go well… you’ll be arraigned by the court either tomorrow or the day after, Mori or Lippmann will handle bail, and you’ll put the Guild in its fucking grave before the prosecution is forced to drop the charges against you.

Dazai just needs to wait for you. 

He needs to trust you, even if he doesn’t have much reason to right now.

You toss your phone into the bay as several police cars skid to a stop at the front of the pier. The sirens are loud and piercing, the lights blinding, and you can hardly hear the words the officers are shouting as they approach you with guns drawn. You can hear the rotor blades of a helicopter thundering in the air above you as a spotlight shines down on you and the approaching officers.

You lift your hands in the air before you’re forced to your knees, arms twisted painfully behind your back as metal cuffs are locked around your wrists. You're dragged back to your feet, and the charges against you and your rights are read, but you don’t hear any of it. Your mind is only trained on one thing—one person.

Dazai, you think desperately, wait for me.

[cinnamonroll-anon]

LMK Wukong x Reader who is wearing peach-scented perfume and peach-flavored lip balm??? 🍑🍑🍑

Sun Wukong x Reader: Sweetest Temptations

A/n: Literally loved this idea anon! I hope this wasn't too short!

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive, Gender Neutral Reader

Sun Wukong was a very affectionate partner, he adored cuddling with you, holding your hand and of course getting spoiled by your kisses. Being his partner meant getting to know most of his antics and favorite things, the thing that stood out to you was his love for peaches. You could be running a quick snack run with him and you swear he always chooses something peach flavored, drinks, chips, candy etc. Heck one of his nicknames for you was Peaches!

Making this observation, you had decided to purchase a peach scented perfume and peach lip balm, just trying to see how he'd react. Now Wukong was wholeheartedly in love with you, he was enamored by your scent, your smile, your laugh and just about everything about you. Except for one day he noticed the change in your scent. At first he brushed it off, you were always so sweet of course you'd smell sweeter, but as time went on that smell wouldn't go away. It was becoming overwhelming, too intoxicating and unbearable for him, yet it was so familiar, the way it mixed with your natural scent was driving him mad.

You were currently over at his place, lazing around on his couch, just wanting to spend some time with him. He eventually walked up to where you were on the couch, he had this adorable pout on his lips as he glarred at you, like if he was inspecting a crime scene.

"Um, do you need something?" You questioned with a nervous smile, you were already backtracking if you had done something to upset him. He crossed his arms over his chest before he answered.

"Yes, I need answers. You changed something about you and I can't figure out what." You only raised a brow before patting the open space next to you on the couch.

"Then can you explain what it is while we cuddle? I didn't want to be lonely here with all this room." It didn't take long for him to give in and plop himself next to you, swiftly arranging himself against you. As he got closer he could feel that intoxicating scent practically drown his other senses as you held him close. He briefly moved around in your hold, letting his head rest between the nape of your neck. He took a deep breath, he could practically taste you, but still couldn't figure out that delicate sweetness he smelled on you.

"Damn Peaches, why do you smell so delicious?" He practically groaned out as he cuddled into your side, wrapping his tail around you, giving your waist a small squeeze.

"Oh? Did you finally notice? It's a peach scented perfume, I thought it would be nice to wear around. It's a comforting smell." That was it!? How had he not noticed before? He took another inhale and it was pure bliss. He didn't expect you go out of your way to do this for him, it couldn't have been a coincidence either, peaches were his favorite afterall.

"Aw, Peaches did you really do this for me? Why's that all of a sudden? Needed more of me?" He asked with a cheeky grin, practically looming over you. Your face felt hot with embarrassment as you chuckled softly.

"Maybe I did, but it took you a while to notice! I was just about to give up wearing it altogether." He laughed before leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss. Wait a minute. It felt- no, it tasted sweeter. As his lips parted from yours he quickly pressed them against you with more fervor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers tangle into his hair. His tongue swiped your bottom lip experimentally before it finally hit him, your lips also tasted like peaches.

"Peaches, were you also wearing that this whole time?" He asked between breaths as he gazed down at you. You only nodded with a cheeky smile. Oh lord, did he ever regret not kissing you sooner, no wonder your lips looked so plump and pretty. He quickly leaned down, sending a barrage of heated kisses against your lips, the ones he knows that take your breath away. The ones that make your legs weak and leave you yearning for more. Your soft lips against his, your delectable scent, it was all clouding his mind in a heavy haze. He just couldn't get enough of you and that sweet flavor. His favorite flavor. He abruptly stopped his attack of kisses to see your dazed expression, smirking in pride.

"You just had to be this tempting, huh Peaches? But tell me, can you handle the tempted?"

Lets say that after that day you were more than encouraged to wear your perfume and lip balm.

back

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Nine

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 23k (have fun!!)

18+ MDNI!

Chapter Warnings: so we're hitting the ground running here - poppy is horny in abundance tbh so smut!! thigh riding, dry humping, unprotected p in v, she's just a girl who wants what she wants and who are we to judge or kink shame?? that's what I thought. and the rest of this chapter just has some lighthearted banter between two pals welcoming a baby into the world. mentions of anxiety, the usual. poppy is on edge because there's another jensen family dinner. nia being nia, the boys being the boys. if guys talking about women's hormones disturbs you look away now. jealous nico once again, a gender reveal!!!! the fluffiest one you ever did see to be honest. there's maybe a point in this where you could get second hand embarrassment but that's not my problem. honestly I've written this chapter so out of order I don't even know what else is in here or if it all links but you get what you're given atp.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Eight)

A/N: this is potentially my favourite chapter yet these two are so stinkin cute!!!! months ago I had a fleeting thought about a pregnancy pillow and wrote a little thing in my notes about it, and this whole fic so far (150k+ words shoutout all my yappers) has been bred from that single scene which is in this chapter. nine chapters to get the the first thought I ever had of Poppy and Nico. I really hope you guys like it and I'm sorry that this has been the longest between updates yet. hopefully a 20k chapter makes up for it. my plan was always 12 chapters but idk if it will end up being more but just the thought that this is potentially over in 3 or 4 chapters is CRAZY I'm so attached to these two idk what to do with myself!! also once again shoutout to rory @h1sch13r for always inspiring me when it comes to these two and little baby (pepper) cheeto I hope I can make up for spoiling the gender to you like an idiot weeks ago with how cute this reveal is lmao

Poppy

Poppy has given endless thought and mind space to the situation that might bring her and Nico back into some sort of intimate space, together.

A romantic, candle lit dinner, where she’s so in the moment that it only makes sense for them to turn it into something more - baby steps be damned, and he’d take her back to that huge bed of his that she loves so much and keep her there until she can’t function properly, anymore.

A movie night, cuddled up on the couch together, where them spooning ends up with his hand down her pants, or her on top of him as whatever scene flashes in the background, the movie long forgotten as they get lost in each other. 

She hadn’t given much thought to it happening in her office, with him finding her all pent up and frustrated after a long day, and he’s all freshly showered after training, his hair still damp and his t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places.

It’s a single look that has her throwing herself at him, hands cupping either side of his face to pull him down until he’s tired of craning his neck, and his hands lift her hips until he’s walking her back and planting her down on her desk.

He pushes at her skirt, pulls at her panties, and pops the buttons of her blouse, all while their mouths move around each other’s, gasps and groans falling between them and hands wandering everywhere they can possibly go. 

She tugs at his hair, bunches his t-shirt in her grip and leans into his every touch, falling back onto her palms when their lips part and moves to pepper kisses along her jaw.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispers as his lips press into her neck, pressure firm as the sensitive skin there gets sucked into his mouth, his stubble scratching into her skin in such a way that she opens up even more for him - head craning back, legs widening, hips pushing right to the end of her desk where his thigh presses between them.

“No?” He mutters into her, “You want me to stop?”

“No.” She pouts, and he chuckles against her flesh, the hot air from between his lips sending shivers all the way down her spine. “Of course I don’t want you to stop.”

He hums, pressing his thigh straight against her heat, and she grinds onto it through sheer instinct, seeking whatever pleasure he can give her and moaning out in response as soon as she feels the contact.

“Good girl,” he praises, swiping his chin against the skin he’s marked up until she hisses at the feeling, the prickly hairs on his jaw scraping against where she feels like she’s been rubbed red-raw.

It isn’t until he takes her jaw in his hand, pinching slightly to pull her toward him and slotting their lips together that her hips start to gyrate of their own accord, rubbing against his thigh without shame in the middle of her office, her nails clawing into the wood of her desk until she hopes they leave some sort of mark.

“That feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, a hand of his falling onto her hip to assist with the movements before he kisses her again.

She just hums against him, eyes screwed shut as she tries to savour the feeling when her clit presses straight against his thigh, his pants being the only barrier. 

“M’just gonna move you a little, yeah?”

She nods, mindlessly.

And then his hand is gripping at her thigh, fingers and thumb pressing into the flesh firmly to push her legs even further apart so that he can stand between them, and he unbuttons his jeans with his free hand until he can push them down. 

She can’t complain at the lack of friction when this is what she’s getting as a result.

She can see the firm outline of him through his briefs as she looks down between them, her mouth watering slightly just at the sight, until her view is obstructed by his face when he kisses her again.

She tilts her hips in anticipation, ready to meet him when he moves to push into her, but the feeling she gets instead is different. Similar to before, a layer of fabric sits between them as he presses his hips into hers, still not having undressed completely.

She whines, lips pouting so he’s kissing at them as they remain still, and he keeps at it, hips working into her own until he gets frustrated at her lack of response. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” He asks, pulling her hips forward himself until he’s right against her and she gasps, “Why’re you being pouty?”

“S’not enough,” she mumbles, “Need more.”

“Aw pretty girl,” he pouts himself, mockingly, “I’m not giving you what you need?”

She shakes her head.

“Thought this is what you wanted? To take things slow?”

“Not this.” She whines, her hand trailing down his abdomen, feeling the soft ridges even beneath his t-shirt, until they meet the elastic of his pants, snapping it teasingly against his skin. “Think you should fuck me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The smile he gives reads like a promise of everything to come, of all the dirty, sinful things he’s been waiting all this time to do for her, and she feels her heart jump and thud in response. 

He closes the distance again, so that she can’t see between them, his tongue lapping languidly against her own and she’s moaning into his mouth when she feels what she has been craving pressing against her entrance, pressing to slide up until it bumps against her clit and her back arches straight into him.

She feels sticky all over. Lightheaded and far-off like she isn’t even here, and when he finally pushes into her, she’s startled back into clarity.

The shrill beeping of her phone alarm rings on the nightstand right beside her head, and when her eyes adjust to the light, she feels tears of frustration well up in them at the realisation of what she’s just been deprived of.

She still feels sticky. Still feels lightheaded. Feels hot all over and tingly like she’s been left unsatisfied.

Only now, there’s no promise of any sort of reward for it.

She’s alone in her bed with nothing but a pillow for company, and she’s so exasperated she wants to scream.

Yet another cursed pregnancy dream she gets no form of relief or respite from.

She could honestly curse the Hischier genes if this is what they bring.

She’s tired of it, now.

Most of the time, she’s usually able to shake her dreams off as soon as she’s awake, but this one seems to linger in her mind, an ever-present heat creeping up her skin despite the fact she tries to wash it away in the shower.

She feels hot as she gets ready, feels hot as she drives to work, and even in her office, where she can turn on the AC and try to distract herself.

Only that doesn’t work, either. 

Obviously.

She’s brought herself to the one place that’s going to bring the whole picture back.

So she ventures upstairs to the supply closet, deciding to fill a box with everything she’s low on just to pass the time - to occupy her mind with something other than the thought of Nico, and him having her legs spread on top of her desk.

She’s closing up when she hears the distant call of her name.

“I’ll take that.” Luke appears seemingly out of nowhere as she’s in her own world, coming toward her before she really has a chance to do anything about it. “Can’t have you carrying these things on your own.”

“It’s not that heavy,” Poppy protests as he takes the box from her hands, clearly not believing her or expecting how light it would be when he takes it into his own. “Told you.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s best you don’t lift anything, too much work on your body could make your feet swell, and that might not go down. Did you know most women go up a shoe size when they’re pregnant?”

All she can do is blink at him, narrowing her eyes as he talks like he isn’t being a complete weirdo. “I didn’t, how did you know that?”

“I bought a book.” He shrugs as he starts on the way back to her office.

“You bought a-,” she stumbles to follow after him, his long strides already carrying him halfway down the hall, “Luke, you’re gonna end up weirding yourself out with that sort of stuff.”

Him and Jack have both been on at her all week since they found out, appearing to take it in turns to bombard her with gross pregnancy facts, like Nia and the girl with the list - although she’s at least had the decency not to mention that since finding out, herself.

The boys, however, have branded themselves the Funcles, already regaling Poppy with stories of how they’re going to be the ones to make her baby laugh for the first time. 

It shouldn’t stress her out, the thought of those two being responsible for a baby - not with Mr Research in front of her - but it does. Luke would probably learn too many weird facts, and stress himself into some kind of almighty meltdown.

She had to block them last night for her own peace.

“Too late. I already know too much.”

“Like what?”

“I know that as of this week, your baby has started peeing inside you, which is absolutely gross.”

That is gross. She didn’t know that. She doesn’t really want to know that. If only she could block him in real life, too.

“I need you to hand the book over.”

“Can’t, Jack’s reading it now, we’re very serious about this funcle thing.”

“Luke,” she warns, not wanting to be on the receiving end of this horror from everybody.

“What? The more we know the better we can help you.”

“What book did you get that from?” She scoffs, pressing the button for the elevator while his hands are full.

“Same one. It’s good, I’ll tell Jack to give it to Nico after, it’s all about what you’ll be going through in each stage of your pregnancy-,”

“Nico doesn’t need the book, Luke, he’s going through it with me.” She frowns a little as she says it, a little voice in her head telling her it isn’t exactly working out like that. “And I thought me blocking you guys would have made it clear enough, I don’t want your weird facts. If I need to know something, I’ll find out from my doctor, not your deep dives on the internet.”

“Hey, to be fair, I was just trying to prepare you with the thing about your brain.” They step into the elevator and she presses the button for her floor,  “Maybe yours won’t shrink, maybe you’ll-,”

“Nope. No more talk about pregnancy symptoms. You’re on a time out, funcle privileges revoked. If you want to be unblocked, you’ve got to give up Google.”

“I don’t know if it’s worth it, I use Google for everything,” he frowns, like this is an actual thing he needs to seriously consider, “How will I know what I can and can’t eat?”

“You’re not a dog, Luke, if you can buy it, you can eat it.”

“I can buy bleach-,”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“Fine. No more Google.” Luke huffs, stepping out with Poppy as the doors slide open, “But if I eat an unidentifiable seed and it’s poisonous, we all know who’s to blame.”

“Maybe stay away from seeds, then?”

“My body is a temple, PJ, you can’t tell me what goes in.”

If he wasn’t doing her a wasted favour with the box, she’d probably give him a hearty shove. He can be so irritating when he wants to be. Now she has his death-by-unidentifiable-seed weighing on her conscience.

“Got to get all my nutrients in if I’m gonna be Mitchie’s favourite uncle, Nico looks like the type of dude that makes chunky babies.”

He probably isn’t wrong, not that she entirely wants to think about it, but baby Cheeto measures a little over expectations every time she has a scan, and her bump is a little bigger than the average, she has been told.

“I really don’t want those kinds of ideas in my head,” she pouts, her mind immediately going to the delivery aspect of it all, relief flooding her system as her office finally comes into sight, “And for the last time, I’m not calling my baby Mitchie short for Michigan.”

“It’s better than calling it Cheeto,” Luke scoffs, “At least Mitchie is unisex.”

Poppy gasps, stopping and placing two hands over her bump as if she’s covering tiny little ears in there. “Words hurt, Luke, you’re hardly gonna be favourite uncle chirping my baby in the womb.”

“Actually, it can’t hear anything outside of your body until like 28 weeks.”

“If I could block you in person, I would.” She’s pushing the door to her office open as she says it, turning to face him and walking in backwards to give him a meaningful glare when she notices his face twist in confusion at something behind her.

When she spins around to see what he’s bothered by, she sees a tall figure stood by her wall, hands in his pockets as he looks over the photographs that line it - and even from the back, she can tell who it is.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Looking at all your pictures, I’ve never seen any of these before.”

That’s because you don’t care about my work, she withholds from biting back, remembering Luke’s presence behind her and not at all prepared to have any sort of family bust up today - especially not in work. “You’re from this one. 43. A little scrawny to be an athlete, aren’t you son?” He points to one of the pictures, one of Poppy, Luke, Johnny and Holtzy before a game at the beginning of the season. 

“I’m-,” Luke frowns, almost comically if Poppy wasn’t too tense now to laugh, “Scrawny?”

“Look like you’d snap in two if I ran at you too hard.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be running at people?” Maybe she isn’t too tense to laugh. “Respectfully, I mean.”

“Thank you for your help, Luke,” Poppy takes the box from his hands and immediately puts it on the couch in the corner before he can protest, making eyes at him to get out of there before it’s too late. It’s for his own safety. “I’ll unblock you later, I promise.”

“Right.” He nods, “Catch you later, PJ. Good to meet you, sir.”

He dashes out so quick she swears he leaves a Luke shaped outline in his wake, her door swinging shut before she can even call out a response. 

“No pictures of the boyfriend?” Her dad asks once he’s gone, taking another quick look over the wall.

“They’re at home.” She says, going around the other side of her desk so that there’s some sort of barrier between them. “Did something happen? Is that why you’re here?”

“Cant a father visit his daughter at work?”

“If he can name her job title without looking it up, then sure.”

“I don’t need to know your job title, Poppet, I know the day you were born and how much you weighed, beyond that, I’m not expected to remember the little things.”

It isn’t the little things, she thinks, it’s my career.

“Whatever,” she sighs, not wanting to get into it, “What are you here for, dad?”

He sits in the chair opposite her, looking a little large for life now that she’s properly seeing him in front of her. It’s like when he would sit at her tea parties as a kid, always too big for the chairs and table.

“I came to say that what happened at dinner last week was embarrassing.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes, despite how petulant he probably thinks it is, crossing her legs and wiggling her mouse to bring her computer to life, hoping if she looks busy enough this conversation will be much shorter.

She’s been trying not to think about it, trying to suppress the floods of disappointment that wash over her every time she remembers it. Her mother’s biting words, her father’s indifference, it all hurts just the same.

“I’m not gonna apologise for defending myself, or defending Nico, I don’t care if I humiliated-,”

“I was embarrassed of myself.”

“I-,” Oh. Just as she feels herself start to get defensive again, his words register. “What?”

“I’m your dad, I’m supposed to stick up for you and have your back.” He frowns, “Especially knowing how hard your mom is on you, and what you’re going through, I was just blindsided by the whole Rich Horowitz thing with your brother, and-,”

“You’re supposed to stick up for him, too, dad. You’re just as hard on Oli.” She doesn’t know why she’s defending her brother after what he did, but after all these years it’s almost like a second nature. She can snap at him, but if anyone else does the same, she won’t let it slide.

“Says you, you called him an idiot.”

“Yeah, well he got under my skin.”

“He was being an idiot. We all were, that’s why it’s embarrassing.” He sighs, “It took your boyfriend stealing my job for me to realise-,”

“Stealing your job?”

What on Earth does he mean by that? 

“What is it that you kids say? He handed my ass to me?”

“What kid taught you that?” Oli’s boys are too young to know that one, and it won’t have come from her brother. Is the demographic at the club really that young these days that someone’s teaching her dad the meaning of having his ass handed to him? It can’t have been Nico. “What do you mean?”

“After you and your mother stormed off, he gave me and your brother a verbal spanking, if you will.”

I won’t, she thinks, unable to stop the grimace that comes out in instinctual response at her father mentioning spanking.

“He yelled at you?”

“Well I can’t picture the boy yelling, Poppy, he’s a little gentle-mannered, don’t you think?” His tone is patronising, but from the way this conversation is going, she doesn’t think that’s his intention, for once. “That isn’t a bad thing, of course! I wouldn’t want my daughter to be with a man so quick to raise his voice, anyway.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s probably up to him to tell you.” He shrugs, “He just made me realise that I haven’t been the most supportive of you lately. With all this,” his hands gesture around the room, “And that,” and then towards her belly. “And I didn’t give either of you a chance the other week. I’d like to get to know the guy who sat at a table in my house and had the guts to put me in my place. Have a do-over.”

Her mouth hangs open at the revelation, blinking slowly as she tries to come to terms with what her father has just said.

Nico stood up for her? To her dad? After how eager he was to impress him and bond with him over something - he just laid down the law on how she deserves to be treated? Like it’s nothing for him to do so? And he didn’t even tell her he’d done so, didn’t even try to get some brownie points?

And her dad respected it enough to come all the way out here and ask for another shot?

“You want a do-over?”

“I do. One of my golfing buddies has a suite at Madison Square Garden, he’s a big Knicks guy, but he rarely uses it for the Rangers, he’s said we can use it for the game on Wednesday. It is your guys they’re playing, right?”

The game on Wednesday.

Who is this man and what has he done with her dad?

Her dad who has never shown anything but distain for hockey in his life, has voiced it so much to Poppy since she started working with the Devils that she stopped talking about work, entirely.

She nods, anyway.

“And then we’re gonna treat you and Nico to lunch on Thursday, if he’s free.”

“We?”

“Me and your mother.”

Poppy gulps. She’ll probably have something to say about Nico speaking up in her defence. 

“She’ll be on her best behaviour, I’ve had assurances.”

“Right,” she scoffs, finding that hard to believe. “I don’t know, Dad, I don’t think a game against the Rangers is the best place to do this-,”

“I want to understand your world, Poppy.”

Well that’s a cruel thing to say to an overly emotional pregnant woman, she thinks, eyes watering at the thought that maybe this could actually be a turning point for them. 

All thanks to Nico.

“Okay.” She agrees, despite her better judgement warning her against doing so.

“Great. I’ll email you the details for the suite. I have to go, your mom is getting her hair done and I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late to meet back up with her.”

“You guys are over this way?”

“We’re in midtown for a conference on Tuesday, we’ll be going back on Thursday after lunch.”

Poppy just nods in response, having nothing more to say to the fact they’re just across the river and neither thought to check up on her.

She supposes this is that, her dad checking up, so she lets it go as she rounds the table to hug him goodbye before he leaves her alone with her thoughts.

She’s only alone for a minute before her door opens without a knock, and she looks up to see an out of breath Nico barging into her office, skin almost glossy with sweat and still donned in his team gym gear. 

He pants to catch his breath once he has closed the door behind him, putting his hands on his hips and frowning over at Poppy, who can’t help the alarm that crosses her own features.

“Are you okay?” She stands and rounds back to his side of her desk, standing before him to get a better look, assessing for any way in which he could be hurt, because why else would he rush straight here in a panic?

“Yeah,” he breathes, tongue swiping out against his bottom lip as he looks over her in the same way, head tilted and eyes blinking slowly, “Are you? Luke said your dad was here, I was worried you’d be upset.”

“Oh,” her lips remain in a pout around the word as her eyes dart to where she can see a little bit of sweat trickling down the side of his neck, and she feels hot, herself, all of a sudden. “I’m good.” The words slip from her mouth before she can even think of them, making up for the way her mind is racing at a million miles an hour out of nowhere.

“You sure?” He runs a hand through his hair, and she sees his t-shirt strain against bulging biceps, making her struggle to swallow and only able to nod in response. “I ran up here like a madman,” he chuckles, stepping around her to sink down into the chair behind, spreading his legs and laying his arms on the rest in a way that reminds her of the dream she had been woken too soon from this morning. 

It’s a real mental effort not to let her eyes travel lower than his broad, heaving chest as she looks down at him, perching herself on the edge of her desk, awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her own arms and legs that isn’t going to elicit such sinful thoughts.

“Sorry, I didn’t tell him to go find you or anything.”

“No, it’s okay, I asked the boys to come get me if they think you need me,” he shrugs, like that isn’t going to cause her heart to do little somersaults in her chest. “Would have ended up here at some point this morning, anyway.”

“Less stressed, though.”

“Always stressed when it comes to you.” She kicks softly at his calf, underestimating just what the effects of the touch would do to either of them when he smirks up at her, his eyes dark and inviting.

All she wants to do is crawl into his lap.

This isn’t your ridiculous dream, Poppy, she tells herself, chewing at the corner of her mouth to ground her mind.

“He wants a re-do.” She tells him, “My dad. He and my mom are staying in Manhattan for something this week, and he wants to come to the Rangers game on Wednesday, and have lunch with us the day after.”

Nico straightens up in his seat, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks up at her. “That’s a good sign, right?”

The gleam in his eyes paints a picture of optimism, and the thought that anything about this is going to result in a positive outcome, but Poppy knows her parents too well to get her hopes up.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “He seemed apologetic, but I doubt my mom is going to have magically changed her entire outlook in the span of a week.”

“Getting your dad on side is still a win,” he keeps that sweet smile despite her pessimism, and she feels a little lighter just looking at the curve of his lips. 

“Yeah, I heard I have you to thank for that.”

He pauses a second while he thinks over her words, before slinking back into his seat, defeated, but still deciding to feign ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a shame,” she pouts, “‘Cause my dad told me about someone matching your description, sitting at his dinner table and putting him in his place about not sticking up for his daughter.”

“Sounds like a decent guy,” Nico shrugs, standing from the seat, closer to Poppy than either of them could have anticipated, their knees bumping together as she’s now the one looking up at him. “Probably didn’t mean to cause any offence and just wanted to defend the mother of his child like she did for him.” His hand reaches instinctively to settle against her side, the tips of his fingers on her waist and his palm caressing her belly. 

She hums, lips curving as she watches his eyes drop to where his hand is, fighting the urge to touch him back.

“Sounds very decent.” She agrees, “No one’s ever gone to bat for me like that, before.”

“Yeah, well, whoever he is, he knows he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

A large palm comes to cradle her cheek as she beams up at him, and his touch lights all her nerve endings ablaze.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, she thinks, with him practically stood between her legs and his melted chocolate eyes looking into hers, swirling with what feels like adoration. 

They dart down to her lips, and his tongue swipes at his own, and just when she thinks this is it, think he’s going to lean in and close the gap, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his shorts.

He sighs as he retrieves the hand from her face to get it, frowning as he looks down at the screen while his other palm stays on her belly. “I have to get back,” he mutters, “But Thursday is fine with me, I’m free. I’ll text you when I’m done with practice, we’ll figure everything out,”

“Okay,” she smiles, despite the fact that she feels like she’s now wound tighter than a drum, all the anticipation in her body stiffening her muscles as she watches him retreat.

“Or we could do lunch together later?”

She should be embarrassed of how quick and how eager she nods in response, but she can’t really be ashamed when he smiles the way he does, a soft laugh accompanying it as the dimples settle into his cheeks. 

“Let me know what you want and when you’re free and I’ll bring it by.”

“Okay,” she breathes as he gets a little closer, smiling back shyly.

He swipes his knuckle along the curve of her bump, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek, and she hopes he doesn’t notice the way she smushes herself into it, nuzzling into the feeling of his lips against her skin. She can feel him smile against her, though, so that hope goes out of the window too quick for her to really care.

“I’ll see you later then, Poppy.”

“And Cheeto.”

And he leverages two hands at either side of her hips on her desk before leaning down, face level with her belly as he says, “And you too, Cheeto.”

She's gonna have to stop letting him into her office, for her own sanity.

“I’m gonna need your dad to tell me who hooked us up with this suite, this is insane!”

Poppy hadn’t been sure when her dad had sent over the instructions on how to get to his friend’s suite at MSG, especially not when the staff had been so attentive and treated the girls like they were the most important people in the building, having a guide literally walk them to the door before letting them know where he’d be if they needed anything replenished while they are here. But now that she’s in the suite, she gets it entirely.

She’s used to watching from the staff suite at work, but even those aren’t as nice as this one. 

The room itself is intimate, dim, warm lighting cast across leather seating, pictures of the arena on the wall, and a few pictures of Knicks winning their championships in the 70’s. Thankfully not a Rangers themed box or Poppy’s nausea might have returned. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugs, trying to ignore how incredible it is to be in a private suite at MSG. She’s a Prudential girl, always loyal to The Rock. Private restrooms and a VIP entrance won’t sway her to the dark side, she isn’t that fickle.

“Oh my God, they have baked cookies.”

When she looks over at Nia, she has the lid lifted on one of the trays in the chafer in the corner, the smell of fresh, hot cookies flooding the room and luring Poppy over like a siren-call. There’s a tray of quesadillas, some crudités, a salad and some chicken fingers, and she wants to eat all of it.

It’s probably a good thing she can’t drink, because the mini bar might have done the trick.

“I’m not waiting for my parents to dig into this.”

“You’re pregnant, they’ll understand.”

The two best friends share a knowing look before breaking out into laughter, and filling two plates with food before going to sit at the counter-like table that overlooks the ice. 

Poppy feels her anxiety slip away a little as her and Nia catch up, hearing about her work and her dad’s new random venture into woodworking that has him flooding her apartment with new shelves and a TV unit so that he can test their durability before he builds Poppy a crib, her heart melting at the thought of him being so sweet to someone who isn’t even his own daughter. 

They watch as the arena fills up, the noise building to a continuous buzz that always makes her hands shake a little, and Nia, knowing her all too well, is able to distract Poppy entirely from her parents impending arrival and whatever else is going on in her crazy mess of a head.

That is until she gasps, pointing toward the jumbotron that’s playing some sort of preview. “Look, it’s your man.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him my man.” Poppy huffs as she manages to catch a glimpse of him, a 2 second flash that has her whole body vibrating.

“I thought things were going well?”

“I don’t know, Ni,” Poppy sighs as she leans back, snapping a cucumber stick in half, “I mean, they are, but I guess I just thought he would have made a move by now.”

“Haven’t you been pushing him away every time he tries?”

“No. I pushed him away once.” She frowns, rolling her eyes when Nia raises a single brow at her incredulously, “Maybe twice, 3 times, maximum. But that was so long ago, now. And things have been so good lately, he’s been incredible.” Poppy’s limbs feel a little like jelly as she melts into her seat, her mind relaying all the ways in which Nico has been a rock for her over the past few months. Taking her to her appointments, going on grocery runs with her, coming around and helping her put them away. The whole family dinner ordeal and the agreement for a re-do. 

He’s so good to her that it’s driving her up the wall.

“But?” Nia asks, knowing her best friend all too well.

“But nothing! I wanna,” Poppy looks behind her to double check her parents haven’t arrived yet, “climb him like a tree,” she whispers, “and he’s being respectful and decent about it.”

“Ugh, what a dick.” Nia scoffs in faux-agreement, raising her arms mockingly. 

“I know.” Despite the fact that Poppy knows Nia is being sarcastic, she carries on anyway to further drive her point home. “He came by my office the other day, and he was all sweaty and gorgeous, and things got all intense, and kissed me on the cheek. How am I supposed to slip him some tongue when he kisses my cheek? And then he came back later for lunch and pretended like everything was normal.”

He had brought her a wrap and some juice, and the two of them had sat and eaten together in her office like he wasn’t about to kiss her stupid in the morning, stood between her parted legs like something fresh out of a literal fantasy she’s already had.

“I thought you’d last a little longer before you completely lost your mind, to be honest. You’re falling apart before my very eyes.”

“I haven’t even told you about the dreams yet.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” 

“I just feel like I’m running out of time, or something.”

“You guys are having a baby together, Pop, you literally have forever to figure things out.”

Poppy knows that’s technically right. It had been her exact sentiment when she had suggested taking things slow in the first place. They don’t need to rush into something just because they’re going to be parents, soon, but she had thought those things at a time where everything was confusing. 

She was still hurting a little, fresh from almost a month of the two of them not talking, of him rejecting her and telling her he wouldn’t have the capacity to be a good partner. And she had been a little overwhelmed at the time, her life changing before her eyes, and all. But he’s done so much to disprove all of that, since. 

He’s there for her, physically, emotionally, however she needs and whenever she needs him. He looks after her, tries to help in whatever way he can when she’s exhausted or feeling sick - brings her food and smoothies and sends her pick-me-up texts that make her feel like she’s floating. 

All that when he’s in the thick of his season too, fighting what is looking more and more like a losing battle for playoff contention, going home every day exhausted and beaten and bruised, and he always makes the time to call her. To ask how she’s doing, how she’s feeling, to make sure she has eaten and is tucked up for the night and safe. 

They kiss each other, they hang out like old times, he caresses her belly when they’re in private and she rubs his back affectionately when they cuddle, and sure, her hormones are all out of whack and her brain is shrinking and maybe she is falling apart, but she wants him so bad she doesn’t even know how to function, anymore.

Everything they do together points to the fact that they should be together, but he isn’t doing anything about it - and so all Poppy can think is that maybe he doesn’t want that, still.

“He’s going home for the summer, Ni,” Poppy frowns, “And we haven’t even really talked about it, but I feel like if something doesn’t happen before then, then maybe it never will.”

“That’s ridiculous, you said it yourself, the two of you are in a good place.”

“This time last year we were in a good place too, and then he left and came back with a girlfriend.”

Nia’s eyes widen as realisation flashes across her features, and Poppy’s brows push together at the depth in which she’s being perceived by her best friend. “You’re really worried about that?”

Poppy shrugs, shuffling in her seat as she watches the lights dim across the arena, thankful for the darkness so that Nia can’t notice the heat creeping up her neck.

She doesn’t want to be told she’s an idiot, right now.

“You’re being an idiot.”

Great.

“Poppy, c’mon, this isn’t even remotely the same situation, anymore. I know I’ve been giving him a hard time since he hurt you, and I’ve had a lot of other things to say, but that guy worships the ground you walk on. I posted a picture of you on my story the other day with some writing on there, and he replied to it asking me to send him the original picture like a giant lovesick dork. That’s like obsession, there’s no chance in hell he’s going home and not thinking about you and your baby every waking second of his life.”

“You unblocked him?” Poppy can feel her lips twitching a little into a smile.

She knows Nia never hated Nico after what he did - she was angry, and probably felt betrayed herself a little that she had trusted him with her best friend’s heart and he had stomped on it - but she’s never really been a forgive and forget kind of person.

But she’s been doing her own version of baby steps with Nico. When they cross paths at Poppy’s apartment, one on the way out, one on the way in, she no longer scowls at him. No longer rolls her eyes when he’s brought up in conversation.

And, evidently, she no longer has him blocked 

For everything Nico has done to prove himself to Poppy, Nia has seen it, too. 

Even just to let him back in, in such a small way, is such a big step.

“He’s on a probationary period, three strikes and he’s out.”

“Wrong sport.” Poppy smirks.

“Don’t care. Besides the point anyway, what I was trying to say is that you’re worrying too much about stupid things when you should be focusing on the things he is doing. He literally endured dinner with your parents, and is going to do it again. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“I thought the point of this pep talk was to stop my anxiety, not double it.”

She’s been trying not to think about lunch with her parents. Has been trying even not to think about them coming to this game, Nia being the only reason she hasn’t tried to make her escape by now.

They probably won’t show, anyway, and it will start their meeting off tomorrow with already raised tensions, just how her mom prefers it.

Her stress levels dip and rise like a rollercoaster in the build up to the game. The announcement of the players, the national anthem, the tension in the room palpable as the clock ticks down, high already from the last time the two teams met and the constant chatter of a fight breaking out on the ice - and she’s feeling more and more grateful that they haven’t arrived yet.

Until the door to the suite swings open, and her dad walks in on his own, an apologetic smile on his face as he rushes over.

“Sorry I’m late,” He kisses Poppy and the cheek, and greets Nia with a warm hug, sitting beside his daughter and looking out into the arena, “Did  I miss anything?”

“Pucks about to drop,” Poppy tells him as he gets himself comfy, watching as he scans the crowd with an expression that kind of, sort of, looks like awe. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time,” he shrugs, patting a hand against her back gently and not really delving any further into it. “We’ll have more fun without her though.”

Nia scoffs from the other side of her, hiding her smile with a bite of a cookie while Poppy tries to swallow down her unexpected disappointment.

This will have to be enough - her dad trying his best while her mom sulks on her own in her hotel room. He’s right, anyway. It will be more fun without her here.

Poppy has work the next day, Nico having a rare morning off, himself, and so the two of them arrange for him to pick her up at lunch, driving over to meet her parents together. She blocked the afternoon out of her diary, having to account for the travel either way across the river, and for whatever trauma the two of them are about to face, no doubt needing a good 20 minutes to wind down in the car after, and her morning goes by way quicker than she probably would have liked.

She packs up her office with as much delay as she can cause, stopping every couple of minutes to put her hands on her hips and try out a couple breathing exercises that Nico has been teaching her, huffing out long breaths through puffed out cheeks and letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Once she has everything, she reluctantly heads down to meet Nico where they had agreed after he sends her a text to tell her he’s there.

She straightens her skirt out as she waits in the elevator, making sure her hair is neat and her top isn’t riding up against her small bump as it has been all morning, no longer able to cover it up with her cardigan tied around her waist, knowing her mother would call her out for being unkempt.

She wouldn’t be wearing heels if it were up to her, a subtle ache already settling into the soles of her feet, but it’s only for an hour or two, she has some sneakers in her trunk for when he brings her back for her car, and if anything, they make her legs look good so it isn’t entirely a bad thing to be wearing them around Nico.

When the doors to the parking level open, she has the expectation that he would be in his normal spot around the corner, where the players usually park - the spaces a little bigger, less chance of anyone being careless with the way they open their door and dinging it against another like she’s had happen before - but she’s surprised to see he isn’t too far, parked straight ahead so she doesn’t have far to walk.  

Nico leans against his car, dressed smart in charcoal pants and a light grey shirt, and she finds herself doing a not-so-subtle once over, mainly to check he isn’t wearing sneakers. 

She’s grateful she has a little time to walk over to him, to admire him before it’s too obvious she’s doing so, because if he got a close enough look at her, he could potentially call her out for drooling. 

She catches him doing the same, eyes lingering on her bare legs as she closes the distance between them, before flickering up to greet her with a dimpled smile.

“You look good,” she comments as she steps toward him, reaching to smooth his hair where he’s slicked it back a little, swiping her finger along his clean shaven jaw as she retreats.

“It goes against everything I believe in, wearing dress pants this early in the day.” 

“I appreciate it.”

“I know you do.”

He opens the car door for her and walks by the front to round to his side, giving her a chance to admire the back of him as he moves before he’s jumping into the drivers seat. 

She reaches to put the AC on low as he drives, getting a little hot watching his fingers flex around the wheel, and tries not to spend all her time leaning against the headrest and looking over his side profile like a crazy person. 

Although, if admiring a guy as gorgeous as Nico while he’s in her presence is a crime, she thinks she probably deserves to be locked up.

She’s a repeat offender, after all.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel weirdly good, actually.” Her morning at work hadn’t been too hectic, a meeting and a few calls, and she hasn’t really felt sick all week, so things are definitely looking up.

And last night with her dad went better than expected, despite her mom not making an appearance.

She’s even slightly optimistic for this lunch, oddly enough, not having that nagging voice in her head telling her everything is going to fall apart, for once.

“What about you? You aren’t gonna threaten to drive off again, are you?”

“Nah,” he chuckles, casting her an amused glance before focusing back on the road. “I think I’ve got a good read for how these Jensen table talks go by now.”

“I think my dad will be okay today, he got really into the game last night. I think it was all the fighting, and my mom not being there, it was like he’s been holding back all this time.”

She had been initially disappointed when her mom hadn’t shown, but when all the fighting had started, she had been relieved. She had warned her dad when he had made the suggestion in the first place, but nothing could have properly prepared him for the carnage of a game against the Rangers, and so she just had to let him endure it.

And he loved it. It was bizarre to see. He’d been cheering on the boys, oohing and aah-ing in time with the crowd, and jumping whenever she and Nia did.

She had actually had fun, and it seemed like he did, too.

“He’ll be coming to The Rock in a jersey before we know it.”

“Is that how things work out for you, everyone just comes around in the end ‘cause your so charming?”

“Surprised it took you this long to notice.” 

Poppy’s parents are waiting in their hotel lobby when Poppy and Nico arrive after their almost-hour long drive, thankfully both dressed just as smart as they are, because she knows Nico would have something to pout about if her dad showed up in khakis. 

The four of them sit around a table in the lounge restaurant of her parent’s hotel in Midtown, her dad having tried to find another spot and her mom having quickly vetoed every cafe or restaurant in the area after vigorously trawling through the Yelp reviews and no doubt turning her nose up at every picture she came across.

Despite the setting being suited to her, she still rearranges her table setting when she arrives, still swipes at the surface and assesses her finger for dust or grime with a dissatisfied look on her face, and Poppy’s trying her best to ignore the little things. Her mom would be like this in the finest restaurant in the world, it isn’t specific to Jersey, it isn’t entirely personal.

It has been cordial, so far. Pleasantries exchanged, small talk conversed. The food had been nice, the wait staff thankfully avoiding her mother’s daring glares, and Poppy starts to feel her anxiety dwindle the more her father talks.

He asks Nico of his interests, trying to find something shared, but coming up slightly short - but that’s okay, she thinks, not everyone has something in common. Maybe they’ll discover that down the line. Maybe there’s something niche that their conversations haven’t sparked yet. 

Nico is his charming self, she has no worries there, and her dad is putting in enough effort to make up for the lack of it on her mom’s end.

Then he moves onto hockey, and Poppy can tell he had been paying attention when he had watched them play the day before. 

She and Nia had been too invested in the game to explain much to him, and it’s hard - being in the arena, watching it live - without having heard most of the terminology through commentary or any sort of breakdown of a play, and so Nico ends up pretty much going through plays and game structure with him, explaining penalties and power plays, shift switches and face-offs, and Philip sits, nodding along as if he’s actually taking it on board. 

“And what do you do with yourself when your season is over?” Her dad asks, and despite the depth in which she knows him, can see the lingering suspicion and distrust in Nico, and of their situation as a whole, she’s grateful for that fact that he’s at least trying.

“I usually go back home and spend time with my family, sir. My brother plays in the league over there so I don’t get to see him when we’re playing at the same time.”

“That’s nice. And that’s Sweden?”

“Switzerland, Dad.” Poppy corrects him, her fingers tickling mindlessly at Nico’s palm in her lap. 

“Of course! Beautiful country, Poppy’s mother and I always used to stop by Zurich whenever we were in Europe. You loved the Opera House, didn’t you, Cilla?”

“Hm,” Poppy’s mom confirms, sipping at her wine with feigned disinterest. Poppy knows she’s paying attention, is going through Nico’s every word with a fine toothed comb. “I much preferred France.”

Poppy rolls her eyes, shifting a little in her seat until her knees knock into Nico’s.

“What do your parents do, son?”

“They both work in insurance, my dad has his own firm.”

“Ah, they’re not athletic, like you and your brother?”

“They were. My mom was a swimmer, my dad played footba- sorry, soccer. And my big sister, Nina, she used to play volleyball.”

“I bet your family game nights get heated.”

He really is trying, Poppy thinks, smiling softly over at Nico as he chuckles in response, lips twisting fondly at whatever memory that invokes. 

“They aren’t too bad, only a bit competitive. No major fights, thankfully.”

“Is that what you want for our grandchild?” Priscilla chimes in, only proving Poppy’s point that she isn’t as disinterested as she’d like to seem. “For them to put all their focus on games and competitions?”

“Mom,” Poppy frowns, shuffling uncomfortably again, all too ready to jump to Nico’s defence until he speaks up from beside her.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, “I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest, I would just want them to be happy.”

He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to win points or be corny, when Poppy turns her head to look at him, she sees the slight dopey smile he has whenever he talks about their baby - a look of pure adoration for even the unknown - and she smiles too. If anything, his outlook would have the opposite effect on her mother than to give him any sort of kudos, but her heart warms, all the same. 

She clutches at his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze that he returns three times over.

“Nico plays for Switzerland, too,” she directs more towards her father, who might be a little more receptive to the fact, “They have the world championships in Prague this year, if the Devils don’t make the playoffs, Nico might be going over earlier. Might even captain the team.” She beams with pride, using her other hand to rub at the arm of the hand of his that she’s holding.

“That’s great-,”

“That’s an awfully busy schedule for a father-to-be.” Her mother scoffs from across the table. “How are you supposed to look after my daughter from half way across the world?”

“I can look after myself, Mom.”

“You shouldn’t have to. What if something happens, and he’s 9 hours away?”

Why does she have to be like this?

Poppy can feel the responsive insolence brewing within her, bubbling and steaming and about to rear it’s ugly head when another voice speaks up.

“Cilla, that’s enough. She’s shown us she can take care of herself, stop trying to instigate something and scare her for no good reason.”

Poppy feels herself mirror her mom’s expression, her mouth gaping open in shock at the nerve of him to stand up to her like that out of nowhere. As Priscilla presses her lips together in indignation, Poppy prepares hers to speak when her dad turns to Nico, completely disregarding the interruption in their conversation. 

“Is that different? Being a captain for your country compared to the Devils?”

She could lean over the table and kiss him on the head, beyond grateful for the interest he’s now showing, hoping it overpowers the venom spewed from her mother’s mouth. 

“A little bit,” Nico nods, lips curving softly at the corners, clearly appreciative, too. “I don’t really have to worry about trades and contracts and stuff when it comes to my national teammates. I grew up with a lot of those guys, and the tournament is a lot closer to home than the games here. I don’t want to say I prefer it, but it’s always nice to play closer to my family and friends.”

“You’ll have to let me know when it’s on the TV, Poppy. After last night, I’d love to watch more games. It was quite exciting.”

She squeezes his hand again, her smile wider when she looks up at him this time, her eyes settling on the dimples she wants to press her lips to. 

Her dad’s words from the other day ring in her head.

He made me realise I haven’t supported you in the way I should be.

Her dad has never stuck up for her like this. Always turning a blind eye to the way her mom zeroes in on all the things that could possibly sting her - and here he is, in public no less, putting her in her place to protect Poppy. To protect Nico, even. 

“I don’t know if that game was the best introduction for you, sir.” Nico chuckles, “We lost, too.”

“I have it on good authority that that’s only because the Rags are a bunch of no-good cheaters.”

Nico snorts, glancing down and meeting Poppy’s gaze, fondly. “Is that so?”

“I said dirty, rotten, no-good cheaters, actually,” she shrugs, “Dad, if you’re gonna start chirping, you’ve got to put a little more heart into it.”

“You’ll have to teach me, Poppet,” Philip tells his daughter, “Maybe that’s how we keep you busy this summer, you can get me up to scratch for the next season.”

And despite the way her heart hammers in her chest at the mention of her having to be kept busy and the thought of being apart from Nico, she feels the tension in her shoulder slip away. Even her mom’s sour face can’t ruin this moment, where her dad starts showing slight signs of approval for the first time in her life, she feels.

“We can discuss my rates, later.” She smiles over at him, cheeks tightening and eyes watering slightly as she smiles, her appreciation for his time, and for the moment, far outweighing her disappointment in the woman sat beside him. 

It’s only two days later that Poppy and Nico are separated again, him and the team leaving a day early for their game against the Senators, situating him overnight in a hotel in Ottawa when she really wants him back with her in Jersey.

It’s getting pathetic now, she thinks, the way she misses him all the time. It’s one day. She’s still texting him, still speaking to him practically every hour. She shouldn’t need to have him right next to her at all hours of the day.

If anything, she needs to start getting used to this - him not being around. Within the next month, he’ll be back home in Switzerland and she’ll be here, grumbling and moaning to herself and everyone but him about how she wants him back.

She’s been trialling out other people’s company too, as pitiful as that sounds. Nia she knows is a safe bet - she’ll be around, already in full auntie mode and more than ready for Poppy to enter her nesting and shopping phase. Jack and Luke will be going back to Michigan, no doubt, but they’re bound to have some trips back to Jersey. Kelsey is kind of a no-go, because despite the fact that she still considers her one of her best friends, she’s all of a sudden under the impression that Poppy is no fun now that she’s pregnant, and she doesn’t have the energy in her to prove her otherwise. Josh at work had come with her for lunch earlier in the day. He’s alright company, but a little boring, if anything - doesn’t make her laugh straight from her belly, not like Nico, not that she’s comparing them.

Nothing really compares to him, if she’s honest, so it’s a fruitless task to even try.

And so, she’s resigning herself to the little version of him that sits in his poor-signal box on her FaceTime app, crashing and pausing and cutting out sometimes when he speaks.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Poppy groans, leaning forward onto her elbow in front of where her phone is rested on the counter, a pout on her lips as she watches Nico situate himself on his hotel bed.

“I thought you were getting food, before? Didn’t you say you were gonna have a late lunch?”

“We did,” she sighs, remembering the disappointment that the first bite of her bagel had elicited and swearing that even the memory of it has her stomach growling.

“We?”

“Yeah, I went with Josh.”

“The PR guy?” Nico looks so cute when he’s frowning, she thinks, his eyebrows pressing together and his doe-brown eyes going round, his screen pausing on a very adorable pout for a few seconds. 

“Yeah.”

“You went on a lunch date with Josh the PR guy?”

“I wouldn’t call it a date, we just had the same lunch hour.” She shrugs, trying not to get distracted at just the sight of him on a phone screen. Nia was right the other day, she really does need to pull herself together, she thinks. “I don’t think anyone in their mind would want to date me right now, I’m distinctly round and up until a week ago was walking around with a gross vomit smell about me.”

“Was it just the two of you?” He asks, doing little to dispel her undateable theory and causing her to frown, too.

“Yeah,” she drags out with the tilt of her head.

“And you went away from The Rock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he pay?”

“Well, yeah, but-,” He probably wouldn’t appreciate her telling him it was Josh’s turn, implying they had shared other lunch breaks, but he cuts her off before she can.

“And you walked back to work together after?”

“We’re in the same building, and it was nice out today.”

“Has he text you since?”

“I-,” She doesn’t actually know. Poppy swipes up from their FaceTime to check her messages, seeing his name near the top. Sent 30 minutes ago, I had fun today, with a smiley face - a blushing smiley face, at that. “Yeah? But you used to pay for my lunch and text me when you got home,”

“Yeah and now you’re carrying my baby.” He’s smiling when she brings the FaceTime back, a soft smile that barely meets his eyes but melts her heart, all the same.

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“It was a date.” He tells her, and he shifts on the other end of the phone, discomfort evident as she realises that the smile is more resolute than she first thought. “A cheap one, if you’re still hungry.”

“Well he wanted to go to that bagel place a couple streets from work,” she says, ignoring his jab, “You know the one with outdoor seating?” He nods, “He said it’s his favourite spot nearby.”

Maybe it was a date. Walking in the soft sunshine together to his favourite spot. Him buying her a bagel, an iced tea and a little tub of tiramisu for her to eat at her desk that had way too much coffee for her to eat.

Shit.

“You hate that place.” That frown comes back, defensive, almost, and he leans back onto his bent arm in a way that makes his muscles flex, distracting her entirely.

“I know,” she sighs, at the sight of him or at this conversation, she doesn’t know. “They’re so dry, I swear they’re stale, I ended up just picking mine apart, but now I-,”

“Could eat a horse?” He grins, flexing his arm like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Exactly,” she smiles, “And I have nothing in.”

“You went shopping yesterday,” he hums, leaning back and getting comfortable, looking back at her with that sleepy smile that makes her want to cuddle into him. She could so slot into that space that his arm makes - it’s literally Poppy shaped.

“Yeah, but yesterday I had all the intentions of buying things to cook, and now I don’t want to cook.” She walks over to her couch with her phone in hand as she talks, throwing herself down into the cushions with a heavy sigh. “I saw someone with this giant soft pretzel earlier, and I know it isn’t moving yet, but I swear Cheeto started doing backflips at the smell. It’s all I can think about. Soft pretzels and melted cheese, I could actually cry right now just imagining it.”

“Maybe take a shower,” he hums, and he looks like he could fall asleep, any second. “You might have some energy after to make something.”

“Maybe,” she hums, back, soft tone matching his as she watches his eyes flutter. “Still won’t be a soft pretzel, though.”

“Keep me posted on whatever you pick, I’m gonna go before I fall asleep, I’m grabbing dinner with the boys.”

“Show-off.” She pouts, lips twitching when he smiles big enough for his dimples to form. “Text me when you’re back?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you eat something, yeah?”

“I will. See you later, Nico.”

Once her screen goes black with the end of the call, she falls into the back of the couch with a heavy sigh, head craned back to look at the ceiling. 

This is so hard, she thinks of missing a man that isn’t entirely hers, of trying to suppress her feelings before they spread to every fibre of her being. 

And with her patience wearing thin, all she has left is to listen to him - to follow his instruction in the hopes that this is what will make the universe reward her, subliminally giving him what he wants.

She showers, trying not to think about him as she faces up into the spray and lets the hot water rain down on her, lathering her hair in a shampoo she wishes smelled like him and dressing herself after in a hoodie she had stolen a while back, all remnants of his scent long washed away. 

She’s staring at a full refrigerator with a head empty of ideas when there is a knock at her door, and she trudges toward the entrance to her apartment with heavy feet. 

She knows as soon as she opens the door what it is, her nose perked like a sniffer dog as the aroma floods from the paper bag being held out to her.

“I got a delivery for Poppy?”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the bag from the pre-pubescent looking Postmates delivery guy, and handing him a tip from the little stack of notes she keeps on the table by her door. 

The name on the bag is for a bakery she knows is around 15 minutes away, closer to her old place up in Hoboken, and she practically skips around to her couch to open it up. 

Two soft pretzels and a tub of Cranberry-Bacon Swiss cheese dip that she had forced Nico to try one time a few years back, and hadn’t had since she moved - still warm in the bag and the smell of it causing her mouth to water.

She thinks this might be the sexiest thing he’s ever done.

Remembering a random order for a soft pretzel from years ago. Relaying her schedule over the phone before, how she didn’t like a certain bagel shop that she had probably mentioned one time before, how she had gone shopping the day prior, something that had probably been a passing comment in a text earlier in the week - flooding her with his perfect recall and insistence on delivering a love language from hundreds of miles away. 

I think I’m in love with you, she types out in a fit of giddiness, senses overpowered by the delicious smell from the bag in her lap, her judgement thankfully coming back before she can hit send, because sure they’ve told each other they love each other before, but never like that. 

Instead, she types out something much more reasonable for the occasion to send along with a selfie of her holding the bag with a stupid smile on her face.

Poppy: You’re my favourite baby daddy 😊 

Nico: I’m your only baby daddy 🙄 

Poppy: Potentially my favourite person 

Nico: Potentially?

Poppy: Cheeto’s first

Nico: So I’m second?

Poppy: Potentially 💖 

Her mind goes back to something Nia had said at the game earlier in the week, about how Nico cared for her like it was an obsession.

Maybe she’s obsessed, too.

Nico

“What do you know about Josh from PR?”

Nico knows that he should probably feel at least an ounce of shame for going to the rest of the guys about this - should feel childish for letting his own insecurities cloud his mind like this, but he’s tried talking himself out of it, and it hasn’t worked.

The locker room has kind of always been his safe space to vent - in a room surrounded by his peers, where better to air out his grievances and have his irrational feelings validated than here?

Especially on the road, after a rough night’s sleep in a hotel bed, and in a practice facility that has a distinct chemical smell that is making him a little loopy.

This is truly his last resort, and he’s already regretting it from Jack’s response, alone.

“I know that his name is Josh and he works in PR.”

“Funny,” Nico scoffs as he leans back into the bench of his locker, running a frustrated hand through his sweat-matted hair. 

“Why, what beef do you have with Josh?”

Jack sits a few cubbies over, the distance causing his voice to carry and opening the conversation up to the other stragglers, namely Timo, who doesn’t speak up but Nico can see his attention pique.

“He took Poppy out on a date.” He grumbles.

“Our Poppy?” 

Mine, Nico thinks, but nods in response, anyway, hoping only Jack takes notice but wincing when another voice responds, instead.

“Damn,” Timo teases, “Going after a pregnant woman is ballsy.”

“Do you think he’s a problem?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to Timo’s ribbing, the panicked raise of his brow only eliciting a smirk from his fellow countryman and longtime friend, but he can’t help it.

“The last time I had any dealings with him, he was wearing a tie with turtles on it, so the chances are slim, but what do I know?”

“Poppy does like her guys dorky,” Jack joins in, a taunting glint flashing across his eyes.

“Does she like him?” Timo asks, throwing himself down beside Nico, who shrugs in response.

“She didn’t even know it was a date,” he tries to brush it off a little, to sound cocky, but he doesn’t really pull it off.

“Hardly sounds like a threat to me, Cap,” Luke speaks up from the other side of his brother, always the voice of reason. 

“I’m not threatened.” He gives a nonchalant frown.

“Sure you’re not.” Luke scoffs.

“I’m just looking out for her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop being annoying.”

“Stop being a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Luke is always so quick to call Nico out that it’s starting to remind him of Poppy, a little - sharp tongue and a slight disregard for where he pokes it, if needed. It almost makes him appreciate it, all the more.

“She’s the mother of my child, it isn’t a crime to care about who she might be going on dates with.”

“Buddy, she’s carrying your baby, the last thing she’s looking for is a serious relationship with someone else right now.”

Nico narrows his eyes at his best friend, waiting for the follow up he knows is coming where Timo says something to chip away at his dwindling resolve - something to keep him awake, tonight.

“She’s probably just looking to get some.”

Something like that.

“Get some?” He scoffs, uneasily, his face curling in disgust, “This is Poppy we’re talking about, she isn’t like that. It was a stale bagel and an iced tea, not some sordid hookup.”

“You said she didn’t know it was a date.” Luke chimes in, his tone bored and his expression the same - halfway done with having to entertain Nico’s incessant talking and no action. 

“She didn’t, he took her out to lunch. But she didn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea it was a date when I pointed it out to her.”

“Well maybe,” Timo drags out as he pushes himself off the bench and stands before him, a playful smirk on his lips, “And hear me out before you go crazy,” Nico rolls his eyes, swallowing hard in anticipation, “She’s just crazy horny.”

“Fuck off,” Nico throws one of his pads at him, bouncing off his shoulder before he catches it with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious,” he throws it back for Nico to catch, “Pregnant women are freaky, it’s all the hormones, and most of them have their partners to scratch that itch,” Nico wonders where he’s getting all these ridiculous sayings, all of a sudden, “But you two aren’t together, so she has to get her fill from somebody else.”

Nico tries looking at the other boys for validation. Jack is already distracted on his phone, and Luke looks too grossed out to comment.

“I don’t know why I’m even speaking to you about this, I should have asked someone with at least two brain cells to rub together.”

“Fair point, hey, Curtis, come over here a sec!” Timo calls out, swinging his arm over his shoulder as he approaches, “Tell Nico, in graphic detail, just how freaky pregnant women get!”

“I want nothing to do with this conversation,” he grimaces, shrugging out from under Timo’s grip and carrying on over to his cubby. 

“He didn’t deny it!”

And he knows, deep down, that Timo has been on a personal mission to grind his gears the last few months, finding joy in getting Nico all riled up for no good reason other than it makes him laugh. He knows he shouldn’t take him seriously, but all of a sudden, his chest feels tight - and the feeling won’t go away.

He tries not to overthink any of it, but it’s no use.

All the little nagging thoughts he’s had about his relationship with Poppy over the last few months start to surface, and bubble into something dark and ugly.

Sure, they’ve had their baby steps, they’ve had the odd kiss here and there, they have told each other’s families that they’re together, have spent an awful lot of time together for two people who aren’t together, but that’s just it.

They aren’t together.

They haven’t had that conversation, haven’t set any boundaries, and as much as he hasn’t even looked at another woman since New Years Eve, he can’t expect Poppy not to have done the same.

Why wouldn’t she date Josh?

He has a decent job, seems like a nice enough guy despite his poor timing and his weird need to always be in Poppy’s office. He makes her laugh - Nico’s seen it, has felt his ears go hot as her eyes have crinkled at the corners and that sweet, melodic sound has crossed through the barrier of her lips in his presence - and she clearly likes his company enough to grab lunch with him in the first place.

And it’s those lingering worries that put him into a funk.

When Poppy texts him, his replies are short. He misses a call from her after their win in Ottawa, and doesn’t find the time to call her back. He doesn’t stop by her place when he lands after their flight back, going straight back to his apartment and tossing and turning all night wondering how long it will be before she finds someone else to keep her company and googling all the ways in which her hormones are about to come at her full force - finding an article that points out the exact timeline of it all in gut wrenching detail. He doesn’t see her before he’s locked away for their game against the Predators the next day, either - and when they lose after overtime, and a poor shootout, he feels guilt more than anything when he checks his phone after his shower and Poppy is still texting him like nothing could possibly be wrong.

Poppy: I’ve left a key under the mat if you want to drop by after the game 💖 

It had been sent sometime in the third period, over an hour ago at this point, and she’s more than likely asleep, he thinks.

But God, he wants to see her.

So where he’d usually drive straight home, he drives to her place, instead, hoping they can have some sort of conversation that suppresses the uncertainty that is starting to keep him awake at night.

He parks up beside her car on the street, and takes the stairs instead of her death-trap elevator, ignoring the protesting ache building in his thighs as he climbs all six floors in a hurry.

The key is where she said it would be, and the weight of it is nothing in comparison to the meaning of her leaving it for him, the responsibility of handling it causing his hands to shake as he opens the door quietly, in anticipation of her already resting up.

The lights are off, but there’s a lamp on beside the couch in the living room, and commercials are playing on her TV, and when he steps fully into the space, he finally sees her, and he can finally breathe.

She’s curled up on the couch, dressed in pyjama shorts that sit low on her hips and a tank top that rides up along the curve of her bump, and is snuggling into a pillow while the flashing lights from the TV reflect on her skin. He reaches onto the coffee table for the remote and puts it on mute, watching her for a second as soft snores fall from between her lips.

Jesus, he thinks, she’s beautiful.

Every time he looks at her, he finds himself picturing her features on their baby. The colour of her eyes, the roundness of them when they look straight at him, or the crinkling in the corner when she smiles, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips.

He wouldn’t be mad if there was nothing of his. If their baby didn’t have his eye or hair colour, his nose, his smile. He’d be happy with a mini-Poppy.

She must feel his presence as he kneels down beside her - probably hears the crack in his knees or the grunt he thought he was withholding on his way down, because her eyes flutter open slowly, focusing on him with a mellowed, dreamy gaze.

“Hey,” she smiles softly at him, voice thick with sleep and eyes still half-scrunched shut. “Tried to wait up for you.”

How could he let anyone get in his head about this? He thinks, as she looks at him with eyes that sparkle and a smile that grips at his heart like a vice. 

Is this what being apart from her is going to keep doing to him? Forcing him to spiral out of his own mind until he sees her, again?

“I was surprised to see you text so late to be honest,” he hums, reaching out to tuck her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear. “You’re usually out by 9 these days."

“Growing your baby is exhausting,” she sighs with her whole body, shifting on the couch to make room for him, and he falls down into the space she makes, positioning his body to her liking as she snuggles straight into him. He feels himself sigh, the content kind, where the aches in his muscles wither into something a little more comfortable, and everywhere she touches feels warm and soothed.

“You could have gone to bed, Poppy, I was going to see you in the morning, anyway.”

“Missed you.” He likes how there’s no preamble about it - the two of them no longer skirting around their feelings as much, not needing to think up some other excuse for wanting to see each other. She missed him enough to leave a key under the mat, enough to stay up despite her body being overworked, enough that waiting less than twelve hours just wouldn’t suffice the desire to see him again.

He has nothing to worry about, he realises. 

“Missed you, too.” He relaxes fully into the couch, an arm slung around her shoulders and the other reaching to rest in its default place on her little bump. “And Cheeto.”

Poppy hums, and he swears he can feel her arch into his touch.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, illuminated by the muted flickering of game highlights flashing across Poppy’s TV screen, and he can’t help but feel like this is where he is meant to be. This is what he’s meant to come home to. Not an empty apartment with leftovers in the fridge and a bed 10 times too big for one person.

Poppy, on the couch, warm and receptive to whatever he can give her, slow, content sighs slipping from between her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears after a beat, he gives an affirmative hum as a response before he even registers what she’s said. She uses the hand on his chest as leverage to push herself up, still leaning on him slightly but able to look him in the eye. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” He frowns, his heart jumping under her touch.

“For Josh,” her body leans away from his a little as she rests back with her knees beneath her. “I swear I didn’t realise that he even liked me like that, and then after we spoke last night I started getting in my head about it, I don’t want you to think I’m just out here going on dates with other people.”

“I don’t think that-,”

“I just miss you a lot when you’re not here, lately,” she admits, nervously, most likely not even hearing what he had said. “And I’ve been trying to fill my time with other people so that I don’t think about you as much and that I won’t go crazy when you leave again in a few weeks.”

“Okay,”

“Not that it actually works, I-,” her lips twist as she looks down at her lap, her hands both fidgeting between them, “I just feel like I’m getting super clingy, and with you going home soon, I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you or something.”

“I don’t feel like that,” he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to reassure her. She’ll listen when she’s finished talking, herself, he figures, because again, she doesn’t acknowledge him. He feels his lips twisting in amusement as she carries on, revealing probably more of herself than she had originally intended. His chest warms, weirdly, at the idea that they’ve both been apart, wanting nothing more than to be with each other, worrying that they’re overbearing the other. 

“And I know this whole,” she lifts a hand to point her finger frantically between the two of them, “thing between us is moving super slow, and I know that’s my fault, but I feel really good about it. It feels really right to me. But we haven’t really talked about it since we agreed on baby steps, and I don’t know where your head is at around everything, but I don’t even see Josh like that, and I wouldn’t agree to go out with him when we’re-,” 

He wants her to finish that thought so badly.

When we’re what, Poppy?

She sighs - another big kind, where her shoulders rise slowly and drop suddenly. Like she’s gearing herself up to say something she thinks he won’t like.

“I don’t want you to go back to Switzerland and get over me again.”

What?

Where the hell did that come from?

He doesn’t think there was even a second he was ever over her. Not entirely, at least. Distracted, maybe. Ignorant, obviously. But never detached.

“And I realise that’s a stupidly super clingy thing to say, but-,”

“Hey,” his tone is clearer, firmer than the last few times he had spoken, and he reiterates the sincerity in what he’s about to say with a calloused hand to her face, the touch shocking her into reception. Glassy eyes sparkle back at him, like rippling water under moonlight, and he wants nothing more than to dive in, to bathe in the hidden vulnerability until his skin prunes, and he’s the one who bears the burden of it. “There is no getting over you. Not then, not ever.”

“But what about-,”

“Joshua’s been doing the groundwork to ask you out for months, Poppy. Probably for even longer, but I first saw he was into you back before that auction.” Back when he’d colour-coded notes for her and stared after her like she was a mirage and he’d been stranded in the desert for weeks.  

“I told you, I’m not-,” He’s doing the same thing, now, not letting her get her say. But he has a point to make, and she needs to understand the depth of his feelings for her in the only way he knows how to express them.

“I know. You didn’t even see it is what I’m saying. And you notice when one of the guys starts using more emojis in the group chat or when the coffee shop around the corner uses a different kind of milk. Why do you think that is?”

“It tastes different-,”

“Not the milk, Poppy. Why do you think you didn’t notice the guy following you around the office with hearts in his eyes?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been,” she frowns as if she’s actually thinking about this for the first time. “Distracted. I don’t understand what this has to do with-,”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She levels him with a glare.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he smirks, a flicker of his eyes to her lips that twist at the attention.

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags out, teasingly, reaching out to tuck her hair back behind her ear after it had fallen back over the side of her face, “Wanna hear you tell me how you’re so obsessed with me that you don’t even consider anyone else.”

“This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance and trying her best to look offended. She doesn’t deny it, though.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. We were talking about you. I’m not obsessed with you.” She grumbles the last part like her mouth is fighting the truth. 

“I am.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Obsessed with you. Could throw a thousand women in bikinis my way I wouldn’t notice a single one of them.”

“Why’d you have to specify bikinis?” She frowns. “Who’s throwing half naked women at you?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“You can’t say something so ridiculous and not expect me to comment on it, Nico.”

“Fine, I take back the bikini thing,” he rolls his eyes, affectionately. “What I’m saying, is that me going back home for the summer isn’t going to change the way I feel. It never did in the first place, Poppy, I was just stupid and afraid of my feelings, last year.”

“And you’re not, now? This doesn’t scare you?”

From the second he found out the news, Nico can recall a bunch of times where he has thought that he should be scared. Should be spiralling out of his mind and anxious as hell about the way his life is about to turn upside down - but those kinds of feelings have just surpassed him. He has no doubt they’ll come at some point - the panic, the fear, the trepidation - but with every day that passes in the calm of it all, he feels more prepared to tackle those feelings when they do swarm him. He’s aided by the comfort of knowing that something in his life is a sure thing.

Playing in the NHL, maintaining his role as a captain of a beloved franchise, making it to and succeeding in the playoff finals, winning an international tournament, they’re all dreams. They’re all things he wants and wishes for, but may never get. He may never lift the cup. He may get a season-ending, or even worse, career-ending, injury out of nowhere. He might one day have to give up the C for someone else to lead his guys on the ice. He may fall out of contention for the national team, have to watch from the sidelines as they thrive without him.

But no matter where he ends up in all of that, he knows now who will be there.

Poppy is a certainty. 

Even if they’re not together, if they never cross that line completely, if the baby steps they’re navigating so well stumble so far out of control that a relationship is out of the picture, their futures are intertwined now. 

She will always be a part of him - of his life. Her and the little Cheeto in her belly. 

“No.” He says it with conviction, which his chest puffed as much as he can muster through the exhaustion that overwhelms his body. “You don’t scare me, Poppy Jensen."

She watches him for a bit, trying to gauge the honesty of his sentiment, and he waits with bated breath, his gaze switching smoothly in a triangle between her soft eyes and pursed lips. Once she has deliberated what he’s stated, has assessed the weight of his words until the sincerity of them settles into her bones, she leans forward until she’s resting back into his outstretched arm, head resting on his chest as the thumping of his heart beats against her ear. 

She sighs, big and tired, and her body melts completely into his, the curve of her belly pressed into his side and her arm slung over his torso. 

“Thought you weren’t obsessed,” he whispers teasingly, pointing toward the TV, where a slow-mo replay of him on the ice is taking up the screen. 

She just hums in response, nuzzling sleepily into his side, and he tries to even out his breathing, leaning back and closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

How could he have ever thought this wouldn’t be enough for her? All those months back when he’d spinelessly disregarded the beginnings of something more. When he had thought that this would have been something she would only settle for - the girl who has moulded herself to fit into whatever shape he leaves beside him and makes it seem like it’s everything she wants it to be.

He’s never known calm like it.

On the back of a loss, leading a team that is potentially one game away from losing out on playoff contention entirely, ending a difficult season plagued by injury and turbulence within the organisation. 

He’s physically depleted - his muscles stretched, his bones banged up and bruised - and he should be the same, mentally.

But he gets to come back here, to Poppy, who misses him when he’s gone, who stays up despite her own exhaustion just to see him, who keeps a place warm for him on the couch and curls up into his side until he forgets the rest of it. 

Until he forgets his instinct to second guess either of their feelings, or the need to overthink how her words might measure up to her actions.

Until he forgets the notion Talia had implied that he wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t make her happy, makes him forget the comments her mother had made about him being absent or distant and unable to support her, or the suggestion from her brother that he wasn’t the right fit.

“You can’t fall asleep.” She speaks slow, like she isn’t far off falling asleep herself, and it isn’t until he hears her voice that he realises just how tight his eyes have welded themselves shut, too lost in the comfort of her embrace to notice that he was about to drift off. 

“Why not?” He huffs, feeling the weight of her head on his chest when he tries to sigh.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna be blamed when you mess your back up on my couch.”

He chuckles, appreciating how her impertinence doesn’t wear off even when she’s half asleep, herself. 

And despite every instinct in his body telling him that he wants to stay like this forever, he shifts his hip to nudge her upright. “Alright,” he groans as his muscles protest at the straightening of his posture, “Let’s get you to bed first then I’ll head out.”

“Carry me?” She holds her arms out as he stands, and he swats them away.

“No."

He helps her up anyway, and keeps a hold of one of her hands as he sets off down the hall toward her bedroom, taking slower steps than usual so that she doesn’t have to stumble after him - knowing she will drag her feet, anyway.

He drops her hand when he crosses the threshold, allowing her to do whatever she needs while she’s in here without him hovering. 

“What the hell is that thing?” Nico rubs at his eyes as if he’s imagining the giant, elongated cushion that takes up more than half of Poppy’s bed, only when he pulls his knuckles away, it’s still there, sprawled out and taking up the entirety of what would be his side in another universe.

“It’s my pregnancy pillow,” Poppy follows him into the room, chuckling as she sidles past him to the bed, “It’s supposed to be really good for resting on when the bump finally comes in more, after a certain point I’m not supposed to sleep on my back. But for now it’s nice to cuddle. Nia got it for me!”

“Of course she did,” he mutters, narrowing his glare at it like the pillow has personally been placed onto this Earth to spite him. He’s been tossing and turning at night wondering if Poppy is okay on her own, yearning to be closer to her, and she’s been here cuddling a pillow?  

He wants it gone.

“It’s comfy, you should give it a go, might help you relax”

“I don’t need to cuddle your giant pillow, thanks,”

“Okay, Captain Grumpy, suit yourself,” she shrugs as she edges past him to her en-suite, and he stalks behind her, watching as she reaches to grab for her toothbrush.

It’s the rattling noise of another in the holder that captures his attention, the red handle of the one she had given him all those months ago still stuck out of the glass, and he feels the tension in his shoulders dissolve somewhat just at the sight of it - waiting there for him to pick back up again like an inevitability. 

He leans against the door as he watches her, head lulling against the jamb as his eyelids grow heavier by the second. He just needs to make sure she gets into bed okay, then he can leave. He can drive back to his apartment, throw himself into his own bed and try not to grind his teeth throughout the night at the fact that a bunch of fabric and fibres is taking his rightful place. 

“You could stay.” He hasn’t even realised she’s watching him, too, hip resting against the sink as she takes the toothbrush from her mouth. “It’s late and you’re clearly spent, and you need to be back here in the morning anyway.”

“Thought you didn’t want me hurting my back on your couch?” He hums, sleepily.

There’s a beat. A heavy silence as she levels him with a look that’s more intense than her pretty eyes allow. “I don’t.” 

Oh.

He can be cool about this, he thinks, despite his exhaustion. He doesn’t want to overreact to the thought of sharing a bed with her, doesn’t want to make her rethink it or scare her away. It’s just the two of them sleeping beside each other. It’s not the craziest thing they’ve ever done.

The ever growing roundness of her belly peaking out the bottom of her tank top is evidence enough of that. 

“Your bed isn’t big enough for the three of us,” he nods back towards the pillow, his lips twisting in mirth.

“Four,” she says around her toothbrush, spitting out the paste into the sink before adding, “Five, if you’re taking Bunny into account, too.”

“Jesus, Poppy,” he snorts, and he doesn’t know why he’s pushing his luck anymore, risking the fact that she might change her mind, but he likes pressing her buttons. Likes the soft way in which she looks up at him, her eyes going round as she waits for him to respond with a slight smudge of white at the corner of her lip that he wants to swipe at with his thumb. “You sure you can fit me in?”

She nods, tilting her head like she has to convince him at all. “We could cuddle?”

He scoffs, more so in disbelief that she actually thinks he needs to be talked into it somehow. “Thought that’s what your pillow is for?” He teases, pushing himself off the doorjamb and sliding past her with a steadying hand on her hip, reaching for his toothbrush and holding it out for her to add the paste. 

“You’re really gonna use up the last of your energy to chirp a pillow?”

“It’s hideous,” he mumbles almost intelligibly around the toothbrush, snickering when Poppy bumps her hip into his. 

“It’s relaxing.” She pouts, leaning once more against the sink instead of vacating the bathroom, watching as he brushes his teeth with a lingering gaze stuck to the movement of his lips. “You did this to me, you should be more concerned about my comfort.”

“I’m very concerned about you,” he coos, finishing up at the sink and wiping his mouth with his wrist before rinsing it off. “Lie awake worrying about you here all alone, turns out you’re snuggled up to a big, strong bunch of fluff every night.”

“Ohh,” she taunts, backing out of the bathroom before calling him out. “You’re jealous.”

“M’not jealous,” he scoffs, following her and watching as she climbs into her all-too-inviting bed. “Just not playing three in the bed with your body pillow.”

He rounds the frame, and before she can protest, he grabs the thing with an unassuming grip, not expecting the weight of it and only able to fling it to the floor by his feet - not as far as he’d like but at least it isn’t on his side of the bed, anymore, he thinks.

“Hey,” she pouts adorably, lips round and too alluring for him to focus on for long. “If I can’t sleep on that, you’re gonna have to let me sleep on you.”

“On me?”

“Yep. Wrapped around you like a vine,” she affirms, “And I don’t wanna hear you whining about dead arms or dead legs, the pillow doesn’t talk back and I’m not above kicking you out in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t see myself complaining about being wrapped around like a vine,” he chuckles, his fingers working deftly to unbutton his pants, chest heating at the way her eyes follow the movement and her lips part. He tries so hard not to let the smug smile that’s threatening to break out fully take over his lips, biting at them to withhold it as he notices her stare go glassy. 

“Good.” She mutters, distracted as he pushes down, the fabric bunching at his ankles before he kicks it off and bends to take off his socks, too. 

He moves to take off his shirt, stopping with his fingers clutched at the back before he asks, “This okay?”

Her throat bobs, and her eyes flicker from the flex of his muscles to meet his gaze, widened and dazed. She presses her lips together and nods, and he can feel the heat of her stare prickle at his skin as he works the t-shirt over his head, shaking his hair back out once it’s off.

Even in the dimmed light, he can see the warmth creeping up her neck, the flush on her chest and the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth.

That article he had found the night before flashes clearly in his head, and reads back to him almost verbatim.

With the loss of fatigue and nausea at the end of the first trimester, expectant mothers may experience an increase in their sex drive. 

Poppy looks like she wants to eat him whole.

It makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

Especially when he considers what happened the last time they were in this bed together.

If she wasn’t fighting so hard to keep her eyes open, he might have called her out on it. 

He reaches to turn off the light before he crawls under the covers and sidles up to her body, laying on his side and watching as she mirrors him, the two of them knocking knees in the middle of the mattress. 

“C’mon then,” he mutters lowly into the space between them, “Do your worst.”

“You don’t actually want me to sleep on you.”

“I don’t care how you sleep as long as you’re actually sleeping.”

“You’ll regret that when I keep you up all night fidgeting in my dreams.” Her body relaxes a little more as they carry on talking, her legs loosening until he starts to feel them press a little more against his own, and he tries to best to make his limbs receptive, adapting to her touch - adapting to her needs, even. 

“You’re still having bad dreams?”

He remembers her talking to his mom about them before - about them making her feel restless, so vivid that she wakes up still feeling exhausted. He remembers his mom talking about the kind of dreams she had when she was carrying him, about animals and aliens and weird, subconscious fears she didn’t even know she had before she was pregnant.

“They’re not all bad,” she hums, “Just strange.”

“What are they about?”

Her eyes flicker up to his, still shining in the darkness of the room, and it makes his throat go dry.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Talking about it might help,” he insists.

She considers it for a second, and he holds his breath while she does, watching her gaze go back and forth between his eyes until it settles on his mouth. “I dream about you.”

“About me?” He frowns, despite the jump of his heart rate, “Like nightmares?”

“No,” she shifts toward him, closing the gap between them just that little bit more, “Not like that, not scary.” She presses her hand to his chest, soft fingertips toying with the gold chain that sits around the base of his neck. “Sad, maybe.”

“Sad dreams?” He asks, and she’s close enough now that he extends an arm out under the covers to rest on her hip, flexing his fingers out to the small of her back.

“You keep leaving me.”

“Oh.”

Great, he thinks, even the dream version of him lets her down.

“It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a dream. I know you wouldn’t, ‘cause you’re obsessed with me, and all,” Closer again, her hips wiggle and his grip on her tightens ever so slightly. “But it feels real, and I guess I get upset about it.”

“Poppy-,”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” he frowns, clutching at her with purpose now, using the leverage he has on her hip to push his own closer to her, their legs fully intertwined now. “I mean, it’s stupid in the sense that I would never leave you, but it’s not stupid that the thought of it upsets you. I’d be upset, too.”

“You would?”

“Mohn,” he doesn’t know how they can get closer, but he can only try. His legs are slotted between hers, her thigh draped across his, the swell of her tummy pressed into the curve of his waist, bare skin touching where her tank top has ridden up and it’s warm and soft and intoxicating, almost. Her hands are pressed to his chest and shoulder, short nails tickling at the flesh there when she chooses to gently scrape and scratch at him, and he could so easily inch his face toward hers until their mouths meet. “If I kept dreaming that you were leaving me, I’d be waking up screaming and crying and holding onto you for dear life.”

The smile she gives him is almost shy, and he feels his heart melting into a sticky, gloopy pile in his chest. He’s so far gone for her it isn’t even funny anymore, isn’t something he feels like he can shoulder the jokes of for much longer. It’s all-consuming, and serious, and it washes over him like a tidal wave when she says, “I’d never leave you either.”

He presses the tip of his nose to hers, bumping at it until she angles her head how he needs, and he can press his lips to the swell of hers.

This kiss reminds him of the one she had given him back in her bedroom at her parent’s house.

It’s gentle, unassuming, tame, if anything.

It might be one of his favourites.

Because this kind of intimacy with her means more than the rushed, frantic collisions they had found themselves in before.

As much as he enjoyed those, and if you’d have asked him at any other point in the day, he’d have given an arm and a leg to have experienced them again, these kinds of kisses mean more to him than that. 

They’re precious to him - provide comfort when he’s laying awake most nights in his own bed, and thinking of all the ways in which he wants to take the next steps with her. He thinks about the soft press of their lips together, and the deeper meaning of it being the sturdy foundations of something way bigger.

This is where it starts for them.

It’s about more than that - it’s about the dedication the two of them share to do things right. To take their time with each other to make sure that it will last this time.

And it’s in her lips he always finds the affirmations he needs. It will last this time. 

He lets out a self-satisfied hum when they part, half chuckle, half sigh, and she tilts her head inquisitively before her eyes flutter open. “What?”

“Nothing.” And when she leans back and looks up at him with a pouty frown, he snorts. “Maybe I should be jealous of the pillow if this is what you’ve been getting up to.”

“Shh,” she cranes her neck and presses her face into the warmth of his chest, before mumbling “Pillows don’t talk, remember,” into it and smiling into the vibrations of his fond laughter.

He falls asleep thinking about the way all the curves of her perfectly fit into the curves of him - the puff of her smiling cheeks pressing into his chest, the swell of her belly pressing into his waist, and the wrap of her legs locking him into an embrace he wouldn’t want to leave even if he had a choice about it.

Nico had thought it would have been the fidgeting that kept him awake. The first few times he woke in the night to Poppy shuffling in his arms, he had just waited it out until her body relaxed, and would subtly and softly tighten his hold on her until she settled into it - the warmth of him easing her back into slumber and allowing him to fall back, too.

He had gotten used to it after that, his body not rousing fully from sleep most times, instinctively accommodating whichever position she needed to be in until he slipped back under, and he could hardly say it irritated him - the desire to be in this position far outweighing his need for an uninterrupted, full night’s sleep.

But then the noises had started. The hums and the whimpers, the staggered breaths, the whines - and he couldn’t stay asleep thinking she was having another of those dreams.

The one where some alternate, dip-shit version of himself leaves her for whatever stupid reason. 

That brings him into full consciousness, tightening his hold on her with a furrowed brow, hand splayed out across the exposed part of her lower back, where her tank has bunched up to reveal warm skin, and he presses firmly until they’re touching at every which point of their bodies they possibly can.

Maybe in her dreams she’ll feel his presence, feel comforted, and the rational part of her brain will kick in that it isn’t real - that she has nothing to worry or be afraid about if he can seep into her subconscious with every touch.

And then she makes another noise - a mixture of a shudder-like breath and a gasp - and her hips jut forward, and he realises that maybe that isn’t the kind of dream she’s having. When he focuses on the other places they are touching, he knows for sure.

With one of his thighs slotted between hers, pressed right up against the apex where they meet, he swears he can feel a dampness even through her shorts.

Fuck.

Oh God.

He can feel himself half-hard already, he’s been that way since he crawled into bed beside her and they snuggled up so close, but this is impossible to ignore now. It doesn’t help how close they are, feeling himself stiffening into her side.

Arousal swirls like a whirlpool in the pit of his stomach, and it whooshes almost out of control when he feels her jut her hips again, grinding down onto his flesh and whimpering into his chest.

“Poppy,” he breathes, figuring he can’t let her carry on now that he’s awake, himself. It wouldn’t be right, he thinks, and curses the part of himself that argues internally. He pinches at her hip, careful not to aid her in her movements, before he tries again. “Poppy, wake up.”

She whines, shuffling as she regains consciousness, her face pressing into his chest as he just about makes out her grumbling, “Don’t want to.”

“You’ve got to.” He squeezes again, willing himself to ignore how good it feels to hold the fleshy part of her hip in his hands. He leans back a little with his neck, careful not to move any part of his lower body now that she’s awake, and looks down at her as her face contorts in confusion. “C’mon, need you to look at me.”

“Nico,” God help him, it sounds like a moan. And double God help him, because she shuffles with her whole body against him, and presses one of her thighs straight into the hardened length in his briefs. She gasps at the same time he winces, and her eyes shoot up to meet his, glistening in the dark of the night and panicked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-,”

“S’fine,” he mumbles, desperate for her not to shuffle back away from his touch, and he feels relief flood his system when she keeps his leg slotted between hers, only separating their bodies at the top.

“Do you need to handle that?”

“No, I’ll be good.” It’s probably a lie. If she carries on the way she has been, he’ll no doubt have some sort of internal meltdown. He’ll stay hard just thinking about it for weeks. “Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you were uhm-,” he breathes, not knowing why he’s embarrassed to say it when she’s literally pregnant with his child. They’re both adults, who have been there and done that once before - and have spent the last few hours slotted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “Dreaming.”

“I was-,” she frowns, brows scrunching together and lips forming a pout around her next words that don’t quite tumble out before she gasps, her hips shifting like she has realised what rests between them for the first time, “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures her as she begins to shuffle back.

“Oh my God!” She scrambles away from him, the sheets twisting around her body, and he feels an almighty loss when the warmth of her is no longer pressed up against him. It makes him realise just how hard he is, now, his focus entirely on the pulsing pressure gathering between his legs instead of her touch.

“It’s fine, at least you weren’t having a nightmare-,”

“No, I’m just living one, now.” She groans, the end muffled by the fact that she pulls her sheets over her face to hide the heat creeping up her neck. 

“Poppy,” he feels a laugh rumble from the depths of his chest, and his brain works too slow to stop it before it comes out in a low chuckle, Poppy responding immediately by poking her head out with a glare.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No-,”

“Tell that to your face!” She pouts, brows furrowed in an attempt at intimidation that she’s too cute to get away with - cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the soft sweat that arose from them bundling up together for so long. “You’re laughing.”

“Not laughing,” he says through a smile, lips twisting in amusement as she huffs in response, and before she can burrow herself back under the covers, he reaches under them to paw at her hip, “C’mere.”

“No.”

“Come here.” He gives her little choice about it, firming his grasp on her flesh and reaching with his other hand to lift and pull her over, twisting his body so that they press back together and he can hold her on top of him. She puts up little protest, balancing herself with soft hands pressed to his bare chest, and he likes the way her fingers curl just a little, nails scratching just enough to feel it. She does make an effort to keep her hips raised, never pressing them fully down as he holds her above him. “It’s fi-,”

“It’s not fine.” She frowns, her nails digging in a little harder, and Nico can’t help the slight buck of his hips. “It’s not fair, I’m so worked up all the time and nothing helps and you’re not doing anything about it-,”

“Me?” He scoffs in amusement, “You want me to do something?”

“Not if you’re gonna keep laughing about it!” She swats at his chest, and he takes a hand from her hip to grasp at her wrist. “You come in here all warm and snuggly, telling me you’re obsessed with me and taking your shirt off in slow motion-,”

He uses the grip on her wrist to catch her off guard, tugging at it until she stumbles, her other wrist going limp as she falls forward, and he leans his own head up to bump their mouths together on her way down.

Poppy’s lips are parted when they meet his, and he takes immediate advantage, slotting his tongue between them until it presses straight against hers, and she responds with fervour, her body arching straight into the curves of his and hips pushing down until he feels that press of the damp patch on her shorts on his bare thigh.

She moves like putty in his hands as he repositions the two of them, twisting his body until he can lay her on the mattress, pushing down into her with the steady rocking of his hips as she lifts hers to meet his in a slow rhythm. 

She breathes soft moans into his mouth, and her legs part completely to accommodate him, wrapping themselves around him for leverage so that she can grind her core directly onto the stiff length in his briefs.

It’s heaven - the way she manages to rock herself straight onto his cock with every roll of her hips - and with the way her lips part with a gasp, he knows she feels it too.

They’re hardly kissing anymore, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as the friction builds between them - he’s pawing under the hem of her tank top, sliding to push it further up to expose her belly, and she’s clawing at his back, gripping him closer than he thought possible as their chests press together and he realises for the first time all night that she hasn’t been wearing a bra when he feels the hardened buds poke through her top. The hand sneaking up her skin heads straight in that direction, thumb wiggling between their bodies until it runs over her nipple, the sensation furthering the arch of her back and eliciting a deep whine as she bites teasingly down on his bottom lip. 

“S’that feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, barely able to get the words out before the pressure of her lips around his closes, her tongue darting out to poke at his. She gives an affirmative hum, and he feels the vibrations of it travel all the way down his throat, filling his chest with a warm buzz. He blames the lightheadedness it causes for his incessant need to tease her, but is thankful it doesn’t entirely ruin the moment when he follows up with, “Better than your dreams?”

“Depends if you make me come this time.” She teases back, the tip of her nose bumping his.

Whatever version of him she’s been dreaming of is a loser. A certified idiot. What kind of man has this girl at his fingertips and doesn’t finish the job? Doesn’t satisfy her the way she deserves?

A schmuck.

“Can feel you soaking through your shorts,” He has a hand on her hip that slides down, over the roundness of her ass and grips at the soft flesh of her thighs until he can push himself straight up against her core, his entire body thrumming at the way she writhes in pleasure. “How long you been like this, huh? All desperate for me?”

“Too long,” she whines, pushing back against him, seeking whatever touch or friction she can get, “Need you to fuck me, Nico.”

“Can’t,” he sighs out a halfhearted denial, to which her lips pout in response. He probably could fight through the almighty ache that has settled into his bones, he definitely wants to, but it might not live up to her expectations - the last thing he ever wants to do is disappoint her. “Not tonight, I’d last 10 seconds,”

“I don’t care.” He can tell she means it, she probably isn’t far off, herself, having gotten halfway there just in her sleep. “C’mon, you’re being mean,”

“I could be meaner,” he smirks, his cheeks pushing into dimples that she immediately presses her lips to. “You know how long I’ve waited to touch you again? When you give me those sweet little kisses,”

“Touch me then,” she breathes not too far off his ear, eliciting shivers that creep down his spine until he arches into her. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg me, pretty Poppy.” He tells her, his voice low as he works at taking her shorts and panties off one leg at a time, her knees bending in time with the movement of his hands. “Remember what I told you before, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you need,”

“Need you inside me.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Now you ask me that?” She scoffs in disbelief, breaking out into a chuckle that quickly dies off when she takes notice of where his hands are going, pushing at the waistband of his briefs until he bears his all to her hungry eyes. Her lips part as he stumbles to kick off the fabric, and her gaze lingers as he takes himself into a firm grip and closes the distance, her lashes fluttering in anticipation. 

He slides his length teasingly against her folds, pressing into the wetness that has gathered there, coating himself in it and hearing her pleasured gasp echo around his skull.

“Is that a no?”

“Nico, I swear to God, if you don’t-,” He cuts her off as he pushes his cock into her, further than he thought it could go at first but she’s so wet that he moves with slight ease, already. She’s eager, too, lifting her hips until they meet his, and he’s as far inside her as he can possibly go, settling there as their breathing syncs and he presses his clammy forehead straight to hers.

She’s the one to start shifting, rocking her hips as they both groan and gasp into the small space between their mouths, and their matched desperation seeps into the frantic movements between them, him fucking into her in a building pace and her meeting it with the arch of her back and the scratch of her nails down his. 

He has to be careful not to collapse on top of her entirely, muscles flexing at either side of her head as he holds himself up, and she’s mindful of winding her legs too tight around him, instead working from below to push up to meet him instead of pulling him down to meet her.

It all catches up to him quicker than he would like, overstimulated by the sticky press of his chest to hers, sweat accumulating between their bodies and he feels it everywhere they touch. The clamminess of his neck under her hand at the top of his back, the sheen on his forehead that he uses to reach up to push his hair back when it starts to restrict his view of her, the curve of her belly when she arches a little too much into him and they slot all the way together. But his worries are quelled by the soft trembling of her thighs around him, and the way her mouth falls agape in unadulterated bliss. 

She’s close, too.

“So good to me,” he presses his lips clumsily to the corner of hers, remembering how she’d liked it the last time when he praised her, “My pretty flower, my good girl,”

“Yours,” she pants out, bumping her nose against his before chasing another kiss, muttering, “I’m yours,” between his lips. 

“Mine.” He affirms, his big, calloused hand cupping the side of her sweaty face, possessively. He loses his rhythm as he loses himself in her, his hips stuttering sloppily as he chases his high, “All mine. I’d give you anything. You gonna come for me?”

She nods, and when Nico gets a good look at her, her eyes are glazed over, dazed and on the verge of falling apart, and he balances himself on one hand to reach between them and press at her clit until she stumbles over the edge, legs tightening in a shaky hold around his waist as she comes around him.

He’s actively trying to commit it all to memory, the sweet sounds that spill from her lips, the delicious dig of her nails into his flesh, the tremors that travel all throughout her body as it wracks with pleasure, the way her muscles contract around his cock as it spills into her, filling her with the stutter of his hips.

He collapses to the side of her, their limbs tangling limply between them, her body twisting with his so that he stays inside, and the room filled with the noise of their panting as they both try to catch their breath.

They lay together in blissful peace for a good couple of minutes, her pointing a finger and tracing mindless doodles into his chest and him raking his fingers gently through her hair. Months, and years before that, of tension leading them both to this point, where Nico feels lighter than a feather laying beside the girl of his dreams.

He blames the dizzying way in which she consumes his thoughts for what comes out of his mouth next - but he just feels so content, so at ease, that the stupid joke stumbles out before his brain can register to stop it.

“Don’t think your pillow can do that.”

She snorts from beside him, her eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, and the way her body shakes with laughter has the rumblings of arousal travel through him again. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, swinging her leg over him and he twists in sync, making sure he stays inside her as she lifts her lips back towards his - any earlier exhaustion from either of them long forgotten as their mouths slot back together and their hips start to move again, chasing further euphoria.

Nico wakes the next morning with a sense of deja-vu that strikes at him like a bat, a full bladder, an ache that settles over him from top to toe, a buzz on a nightstand, and a sleeping Poppy beside him, tucked up against his body with tangled legs and her face pressed into his chest. 

The sun is peaking through the closed curtains, casting the room aglow, and he watches her rouse from her own sleep at the continuous vibrations from beside her. She groans as she twists out from their entanglement, and he keeps a hand at her hip to make sure she doesn’t move too far, already missing the warmth of her.

She checks her phone before she answers it, rolling back over into his side and settling next to him as she shuffles up so that they’re a bit more level.

He watches her as she speaks, admiring how she glows in the small slither of sunlight that casts directly upon her like an angel - despite the mess of her hair and the sleepy-swelling of her face. He isn’t entirely paying attention to what’s being said, watching her fingertips play with the chain that sits on the base of his neck while she talks, leaning forward to bump his nose at her brow and pressing a fleeting kiss there, content in the domesticity of it all. 

He wants all his mornings to start like this.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you then, thank you.” She closes her call before hanging up, discarding of her phone behind her and focusing her attention back on Nico’s chest.

“Who was that?” He hums as she shuffles back up against him, his hand slithering over her hip to rest on the small of her back.

“Just my ex,” she shrugs, “I’m gonna leave you here on your own and go meet up with him.”

“Wow,” he chuckles, eyes dancing over her lips as they curl into a self-satisfied smirk, “You’ve been dying to fire that bullet, haven’t you?”

“Mmhm, I’m making the most out of my quick wit while I still have it, Luke told me the other day that women’s brains shrink during pregnancy.”

“We need to start taking Google rights away from people.” 

“That’s what I said!” She smiles like she’s proud of the way they think the same things, “It was the doctor’s office. They had a power cut and they’re gonna be running behind so our appointment has been shifted to later.” Her fingers start to dance teasingly across his chest, her tone carrying a suggestive lilt as she continues to speak, her touch moving down as she suggests, “So we could go back to sleep, or we could-,”

He leans up and kisses her with his hands cupping her cheeks, holding her firm against him as he feels her smile against his lips. “I’ll take option two.”

After a blissful morning in Poppy’s apartment, where the two of them, both literally and figuratively, stayed joint at the hip - in her bed, in her shower, no funny business, she said she just wanted to wash his hair, in her kitchen, drinking his morning coffee out of a mug she painted just for him, on her couch, snuggled up when exhaustion caught back up and they had a quick nap together, bad backs be damned - and an early afternoon spent in the doctor’s office, where they learn that their baby is now growing bones, which Poppy should start to feel move soon, and can smile and frown and squint, Nico glides through his afternoon practice with a smile of his own that won’t shift.

He has a new picture that he elatedly displays on the shelf in his cubby, the boys all getting a good look at the now not-so-Cheeto-like shape of his baby, cooing over all the new developments like proud uncles and chirping Nico for the ever-present dopey look on his face. 

No amount of jokes directed his way will ruin this for him, though. 

This feeling of rapture that hasn’t left since he first opened his eyes in the morning. The way his body buzzes at even the thought of the girl waiting for him to finish practice, to come home to an apartment that she had told him earlier to keep the key to, to kiss at her rounding belly and know that their baby is growing hair and limbs and expressions in there.

To finally say goodbye to the baby steps that he’s been taking for what feels like forever, and dive head first into the crystal clear waters of life with Poppy. Sharing a space, being intimate in every which way with one another, it feels like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

And he wants to bask in this feeling for as long as he can, pushing down the impending date of his flight back home, replying to the emails from his national team coach about the upcoming world championship games and then pretending they don’t exist. 

The idea of being in Switzerland for the summer has always filled him with joy - being home, being with his family, it’s where he needs to be after a season like he’s had - losses and injuries and all the turmoil that comes with them - but the thought of being away from Poppy, of missing any of these scans or moments with her and their baby, it fills him with dread. Her mother’s words from their dinner the week before ring through his head like a bell, loud and impossible to ignore. 

Which is why he finds himself heading for her place when his practice is over - after showering at the rink and dropping home to pick up an overnight bag, he drives over with all intentions of spending the night again. Sitting her down and talking over the potential of him flying back out for appointments and visits.

She greets him with a kiss once he’s gotten to her apartment and found her in her kitchen, rendering him stunned for only a second before he responds to her touch, hands falling to her waist and lips closing around hers.

It only drives his point further home that he can’t go too long without seeing her, now. Not if this is how he’s welcomed back, not if this is going to become a thing. 

He pulls her body flush against his, deepening the kiss like it’s been more than a few hours since he last saw her, savouring the taste of her vanilla lip balm and the way her bump presses into his stomach. 

When they part, he finds himself chasing her, pressing quick pecks at her swollen lips until she’s beaming in response, and he feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“Wow, you really are obsessed with me,” she giggles, pressing her hands to his chest to keep him at bay, looking up at him with the glimmer of the light reflecting in her eyes. “You okay?”

“I think your mom was right.”

He doesn’t even know why he said that, the words tumbling out before he can even think them over, and as he can feel his own forehead crease into a frown, and his own brows push together, he sees Poppy’s do the same.

“That might be the most unsexy thing you’ve ever said to me.” She pouts, balm smudged still around her lips as they form into a confused pout that he already wants to kiss away, “Where did that come from?”

“When she said I won’t be around enough,” he flexes his fingers against her hips, tightening his hold on her, “I was thinking about going back home before and I realised I don’t want to miss out on anything, I want to be around if you need me-,”

“Please don’t let her get in your head,” Poppy worries as her hands travel up, her fingers curling delicately around either side of his neck, “She doesn’t understand what being home means to you, she just says things she knows will sting, you shouldn’t have to fly back and forth just to make her happy-,”

“I want to make you happy.”

“You do.” She promises, “When you don’t mention my mother, at least.”

He feels a little better at that, at the conviction of her words, the honesty in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips. But the conversation needs to be had, something needs to be set in place to quell the flickering flames of anxiety that fill his chest before it becomes an inferno. 

Before he can open his mouth to carry on, she speaks instead.

“Go sit down, I have a surprise for you.”

And despite the itch in him to say something else on the topic before she completely shuts it down, he follows her command, the excited sparkle in her eyes hypnotising him into compliance. 

He waits on her couch for her to come over, and when she does, she has a small, white box in hand. Rectangle in shape, around 5 inches deep and 8 inches long.

“What’s this?” He asks when she places the box into his hands, the lid blank and closed.

“Cupcakes.”

“What’s the occasion?” When he goes to lift the lid, she places her hand over his, shuffling until she’s kneeling on the couch, ankles tucked beneath her.

“I’ve been sneaky.”

She looks proud of herself, a sweet grin hesitantly stretching her lips as her eyes dart between his, and he can feel his lips mirror hers.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she hums, “When I had my blood taken before you came in for the scan earlier, I asked Lucy to write down the gender if she could see it clear enough.”

Nico feels his heart stutter.

It’s one of the big things he had feared missing out on, having been told they wouldn’t get a proper view of it until 16 weeks - in another 2 weeks time - at which point he would more than likely be back home. He had resigned himself to finding out over the phone - still exciting, but not the same. “But I thought they couldn’t see it yet?”

“Depends on the position Cheeto wants to be in,” Poppy shrugs, “They do say it isn’t definite, so if it grows or loses an appendage in the next few weeks, blame Lucy, not me.”

“So you know?”

There’s no way she could have hidden it from him, so far. Poppy can’t keep a secret from him to save her life.

“No. Bonnie at the bakery on the corner knows. She hid it in the frosting.”

Nico takes the lid off the box now on his lap, looking into it to see two cupcakes, a thick serving of white frosting and a round, disc-like cake topper with blue and pink writing.

“Baby Hischier?”

He feels warm all over, a static-like tingling spreading across his skin, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck. It all feels so real, so overwhelming. Seeing their baby earlier, the blurred, splotchy shape of it’s head, little features like a nose, lips and eyes starting to form more clearly in the picture. A little baby with his last name.

“It is your baby,” Poppy chuckles, reaching for the box herself and handing one of the cupcakes over to him. 

“No hyphen?” He elaborates, and he can feel his brow twitch of its own accord, catching her eye and making her lips twist, fondly, in the way that makes him already anticipate some smart-ass comeback.

“It’s a cupcake, not a billboard,” she quips, “We could do that, it that’s what you want?”

“I thought that would be what you wanted.” If it is, he’ll do it that way, but God does he all of a sudden hate hyphens. 

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Hischier just felt right when I wrote it down for Bonnie. I like your name.”

You can have it, he thinks.

“The less claim my family have to our baby, the better. Plus, it’s kind of the tradition, to give the baby it’s father’s surname.”

“Because we’re so traditional,” he chuckles, liking the way he makes her laugh, too.

“That’s true. Maybe we should make up a name, then? Say, fuck the system,”

“Hischier’s fine.” He says, resolutely, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him, and he only feels slightly ashamed of it.

“Hischier is great.” She reassures him, enough to make his chest puff with pride, and the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is enough to tell him she’s proud of her own teasing - and all too aware of his mini-neanderthal moment. “Can we get on with it, I’ve been glaring at this box all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, I’m all of a sudden nervous about eating a cupcake.”

“Welcome to my first trimester.”

He can feel the beat of his heart in every inch of his body.

He hasn’t really given it much thought, before now, if there’s any specific gender he wants it to be. He’s always thought it corny, when people say I just want a healthy baby, but that truly is all he wants.

He sees the best of both worlds - a mini him, or a mini Poppy. Half of each of them in one bundle of joy.

He’ll be in love with it, either way.

“We’ve just got to do it,” Poppy says, placing the box down on the coffee table and holding her cupcake across from his. “Close your eyes and take a bite after three.”

He nods, before cheers-ing his cupcake against hers, and then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for Poppy to start the countdown. 

“One…” He peaks an eye open, watching and unable to stop the grin that spreads into his cheeks, already. “Two…”

She opens an eye, too.

“Close your eyes, Mohn.” He warns her.

“I was checking yours were closed.”

He makes a show of scrunching them shut, assuming she’s doing the same, and she starts the countdown back up again.

On three, he takes a bite and opens his eyes, disregarding whatever colour sits on his own cupcake and immediately watching for Poppy’s reaction.

Her bite had been clumsy, the frosting smearing on her lips, and where he had wanted to see her eyes light up, his gaze is stuck in a magnetised grip to the soft pink colour of the sugary goodness that now surrounds her mouth. 

A girl.

A mini Poppy - pretty eyes, a killer smile that he folds to in an instant, a sharp tongue that fills his life with equal parts sarcasm and light.

He’s so done for.

Before he can help himself, he discards his cupcake onto the coffee table and pounces forward, hoping that she flings hers in the same direction as he takes her face between both hands and pulls her lips into his, licking the frosting straight from them before he kisses her with all the passion he can muster.

It’s messy, he can feel the icing transfer to his own upper lip, tasting the sugar as she giggles into his mouth, and his whole body lights up with the joy of it all, their teeth clashing in a messy abundance of shared glee.

He can’t get enough of this feeling, of the sound of her blissful laughter, and so even when they part, he keeps going back for more, pressing his lips to any part of her face he can reach - her lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks - and when they’re touching the corner of her mouth, he feels the movement of it as she asks, “Are you happy?”

“So happy.” It’s an understatement, but he’s hard pressed to think of more elaborate wording, so he kisses her again before saying, “Come home with me. To Switzerland. I don’t want to spend another summer missing you, Poppy. I don’t want to be apart from you and our baby girl.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked before. He knows it’s what he’s wanted this whole time, to be in the place he loves the most with the girls he might love more. 

“Really?”

“I wanna share the other half of my life with you. We can sort out a doctor so we don’t have to fly back and forth or miss any appointments, and it gives my family a chance to spend time with you, I can show you all my favourite places, we can-,”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Nico, I’m already there.”

“Yeah?” The thumping of his heart is so vigorous he thinks she can probably see it, breaking out of his chest and flying out toward her like a cartoon. 

“I’m hardly gonna say no to a European summer.” She teases with a shrug, licking at the remaining frosting on her lips before she leans in to press them softly against his, again. 

“The fact I’m there is just a bonus?”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

Next Chapter

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

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch. 2

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

A/N: Wow, I was not expecting that kind of reaction! Thank you to everyone who's interacted with chapter 1; I've had a rough week and you all made my day! I wasn't planning on posting chapter 2 until I was a bit further along with ch 3, but I just can't find it in me to say no to ya'll!

Chapter Selection

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, hurt (no comfort) (yet), will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings (chapter specific): chapter includes a brief scene of attempted assault (which will be labeled for those who'd rather skip it) angst, gun violence, some negative self-talk

words: 1.8k

Jason's first call came at exactly 2:05pm the next day. When I picked up I was immediately greeted by his voice seemingly from the other side of a very large room; “seriously, guys! I'll call, I'll call!”

“Too late!” Dick shouted, clearly holding the phone. “Hello! This is Dick, calling on behalf of my idiot brother, Jason! We met at the cafe yesterday?”

I could hear Jason shouting at someone, but it was muffled like he was under something. “Right … So are you going to put Jason on, or…?”

“Well, Jaybird is under the impression that calling a girl the next day is ‘desperate’ and ‘off-putting’, so we've taken up a poll at the house, and surprise surprise; we need a tiebreaker. Your thoughts?”

Before I could respond I heard muffled grunting; someone in the background shouted “no! Get him!” which was immediately followed by a yelp from Dick as Jason growled a bit;

“Give me that!” A door slammed, and all the other voices were gone, replaced by Jason's gentle, almost shy voice; “... Um … hi … still think this is normal sibling behavior?”

I giggled; “... Starting to veer away from normal now. But it's sweet, they obviously really care about you. And for the record - you can call the poll on the side of ‘it’s not desperate or off-putting'; I gave you my phone number, surely I expected you to use it, right?”

“... O- oh, yeah I guess that makes sense … So yeah, I'm using it. … Hi.”

“Hi~”

After that, I spoke to Jason in some capacity or another most every day. Turned out he was a night owl too. Apparently he worked most nights, so, after I assured him that a text wouldn't wake me, he started preemptively sending me a good morning text around 3 or 4am, so it was the first thing I saw when I woke up.

I loved how he could go off on an impassioned tangent; getting him all worked up over literature was especially cute. He did have a tendency to backpedal after a particularly passionate rant, no matter how many times I pointed out that I liked hearing him so excited. We also kept trying to arrange a day to get together, preferably without his brothers hovering this time, but his work schedule was so hectic that we kept having to postpone.

It seemed a bit unlikely, but I started to wonder if I had been right in the first place; that it was all some really elaborate prank. It certainly wouldn't be the first time an attractive man had played with my heart like that, though it would be the first time one had bought me anything before pulling the rug out from under me… 

Nearly a month into our texting relationship, Jason went radio silent for several days. No warning, just gone. I didn't want to be clingy, but I was a bit worried. He had been so attentive until this, what if something was wrong and I was out here thinking the worst about him?

On day 5 without a response I picked up a late shift at work, hoping to distract myself from the whole thing. It didn't work though, and I ended up trudging home at 2am blasting loud, angry music through my headphones. I was frustrated, and confused, and careless. I didn't notice the man behind me until his hand was around my wrist.

 ❌❌❌ -skip point- ❌❌❌

The world moved in slow motion as I was pulled into the alley. The man's mouth was moving, but I just heard a staticy ring. I tasted copper, and everything was too dark. Things didn't snap back into focus until I felt the rough brick slam against my back and I screamed, shoving against him.

All at once, everything was moving too fast; he was grabbing, I was punching and kicking, my voice was cracking. A second felt like an eternity, I couldn't even hazard a guess how long the fight actually took. But all at once it ended; with a loud, sharp sound that left me frozen in place and my ears ringing, the man collapsed in front of me. Red bloomed across his unmoving chest, and all I could do was stare.

❌❌❌ -end skip point- ❌❌❌

Large, leather clad hands gently touched my shoulders, bringing me back into my body. I slowly looked up, blinking. I immediately recognized the masked man who had come to my aid; Red Hood had made quite the name for himself in his time as a mob boss. I heard something droning on, but couldn't focus on any specific details over the sound of my own heartbeat still pounding in my ears. It took him gingerly sliding my headphones off for me to realize the noise I was hearing was just the next song on my angry playlist.

“Miss? Can you hear me now?” there was an electric quality to his voice. I vaguely wondered why more Masks didn't use voice modulators; it seemed more practical than the standard vigilante eye coverings… 

I slowly nodded. “... Y- … yeah?”

The red helmet nodded once, “did he hurt you?”

I looked down at myself, frowning a bit. My shirt was grimed up from the struggle, and I could feel the cold night air on the back of my thighs; my pants had ripped when I tried to kick the man off me. A shaky breath turned into a sob as I gasped, looking up again.

A million thoughts ran through my head at once. I wanted to scream, to curse, anything! But all I managed was a whimpered; “... Th- these were my favorite pants …”

“... Well, your boyfriend will just have to get you a new pair. Let … let me get you home, yeah?” I flinched as he reached toward me again, a gloved finger gently wiping away my tears. He offered me his hand, easing me out of the alley like a frightened stray cat.

I followed without complaint, turning my music off. “... No boyfriend …”

“A friend then? Someone who'll take care of you.” Red Hood led me to a motorcycle. He unzipped a bag on the back, and held out a red flannel shirt.

A watery giggle slipped out of my mouth and I shakily took it, tying it around my waist. “... I don't even know anymore…” 

“Don't know?”

“Well, I was talking to a guy, but … I think he ghosted me.”

“No!” I jumped at the sudden volume and insistent tone, looking up at him awkwardly.

“... No?”

“I … I just mean … a pretty girl like you's not gonna get ghosted. If he hasn't texted back in a few days there's gotta be a reason.”

I looked away, squirming awkwardly. Did an ex-crime lord turned vigilante really just call me pretty? “... Y- … I … what?”

He was silent for a long moment. I got the distinct impression that he was staring at me, but with the helmet on it was hard to tell. “... We should get you home.”

Next thing I knew, I was holding Red Hood's helmet. I hesitantly looked up as he turned, catching just a glimpse of one of those domino masks the other local vigilantes wore. He moved his bag and swung one leg over the seat of his bike, turning back to stare at me expectantly. The prospect of letting the Red Hood know where I lived didn't seem like the smartest idea, but I was definitely not going to walk home alone after all that. So I slid the helmet on and carefully climbed behind him, placing my feet where he indicated. As I arranged the flannel between my bare thighs and the seat it occurred to me how unexpectedly kind it was of him to offer it. I knew he had been spotted working with the Bats lately, but just because they had accepted him didn’t mean he was a boy scout all of a sudden...

Of course, now that I was on his bike I was faced with the rather pressing concern of where to put my hands. I didn’t exactly have handle bars, and I doubted he was going to drive slow enough that I could stay upright; I would have to lean against him. I took a deep, steadying breath, and placed my hands on his shoulders. Hood froze a bit, and after a moment he reached behind himself to grasp my elbows. He gently pulled me to wrap my arms around his waist.

 “It's actually safest this way. Interlock your fingers, and lean with me on turns.” His voice was so much nicer without the helmet distorting it, even if he was doing a truly terrible Batman impression. 

“... O- ok…” I clung to him, feeling my entire body heat up. I wasn't sure how much of that was because I was blushing and how much was because the Red Hood was apparently a living space heater, but either way I was glad he couldn't see my face. I told him how to get to my apartment, and we sped off.

The roar of the engine and the wind whipping past mercifully drowned out anything we could have hoped to say to each other. I shut my eyes just for a moment, trying not to cry again, and suddenly Hood’s hand was trapping mine against his stomach. “... Hey, this it?”

I jolted slightly, looking up at the familiar building. I nodded, slowly extracted myself from his grip, and slid back onto solid ground. He held a hand up to stop me as I started to remove the borrowed flannel.

“Keep it.”

I blinked slowly, having trouble processing what he said. “... But … it’s your shirt … how will I give it back to you?”

He chuckled softly; “it’s just a shirt.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue the matter any further. I slipped his helmet off, holding it out to him.

“Thank you … I can't believe I let this happen…”

He frowned deeply at that, and his voice shifted a bit from a fake-Batman voice into an actually deep, grumpy tone; “you didn't let anything happen.”

“I'm usually so much more observant, if I had just been paying attention…”

“He would have changed tactics. You did nothing wrong. I don't want you thinking otherwise, got it?”

I sniffled softly, looking down at my shoes. “... I … God, I didn't even have my keys in my hand… I was taught better…”

“And I was taught not to kill. Shit happens.”

I blinked a bit, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. “… I … I guess so. … Th- Thank you … for everything.”

He nodded once before putting his helmet back on. Before I could step away, he reached out to touch my hand again. “Hey. You did everything right, ok? You drew attention, and you kept him off until I got there. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Got it?”

I nodded slowly, stepping back a bit. “… ok.”

“Good. Now, get inside.” He waited there, watching me. Only after the building's front door was closed and locked did I hear his motorcycle speed away.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika

Taglist: @jawdropforkpop

(If you would like to be added to the taglist feel free to let me know!)

[bonny-kookoo]

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2

The second day gives you a moment of reflection, and an interesting insight into his position in not only this arrangement, but the scene in general. And he also helps you use your past bad experiences go create a new one- one you'll probably never forget.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, discussion of past bad experiences (sexual and general relationships), bondage (tied wrists), sensual dominance, Oral (male receiving), handjob (female receiving), squirting, more of Jungkooks dirty thoughts but its pretty tame this time haha, aftercare, romantic tension is that a thing I'm making it a thing now

Length: 5.3k

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hello hi I hope this doesn't disappoint 💗

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

The next day, it's him who wakes up first. And for a minute or two, he's actually unsure where he is- why is he on the couch? And why does his chest feel so heavy?

And then it all bleeds back into him, fills his head with nothing but memories of what happened yesterday.

He wonders if it feels the same for you as it does to him. Do you enjoy it? Sure, it looks like it, feels like it- but what if you only pretend to not make him feel bad?

He knows what's going on with him, so he decides to be a little selfish for once. You'll understand- he's doing it to stay sane and in a good headspace after all, and that only benefits you at the end of the day.

His arms move around a bit, adjust as he carefully pulls you a little closer, just to reassure himself. You're sleeping deeply, resting comfortably, and that can only mean that he's not scary to you. You still like him, you still want to spend time with him.

You wake up slowly, stretch your limbs for a second before you yawn, eyes slowly opening to look at him. "What's wrong?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing." He smiles, speaks with an equally as tired voice towards you, as you to him. You don't buy his cheap lie though.

"If I need to be honest at all times, I want you to do that too." You argue sleepily. "Thats only fair."

"You're right." He sighs, running a hand through your hair. "You remember how you dropped yesterday, during your shower after I warned you what could happen?" He reminds you, and you nod, suppressing a yawn. "Well, I'm having somewhat of a similar situation. It's fine though- I'm already feeling much better." He reassures, but you move, and lean on your hands before you sit up.

"No, wait-" you shake your head. "-can I help with that? Like, you helped me, there's got to be something I can do in return." You tell him, and he can't help but lean his head back, close his eyes and laugh.

You're just too precious.

"I just need you." He says after a moment, hand reaching out for yours to take. "Thats all." He shrugs, and you watch him with suspicion, though you do take his inviting hand and lay back down close to him.

"Can you.. you don't have to if it's weird!" You instantly interrupt yourself, making him chuckle. "But.. okay so, it made sense to me that as the.. receiving one and stuff, you'd go through a drop of emotions. Like, of course, sure. But like, I don't really understand how you'd get the same feeling? You're the leader and stuff, right?" You wonder, and he nods, humming to himself as he thinks about how to properly explain it.

"People tend to think that the sub is.. some sort of 'victim' towards the dominant person." Jungkook says, while the arm you lay on is bent, hand drawing shapes on the tip of your shoulder. "In reality, it's a clear power exchange, right? I only do what you tell me I can. You're calling the shots. You make the boundaries- I only ever have as much power as you're willing to give me." He explains to you, and you nod. "And with that comes.. responsibility. Pressure. Because in order for you to be able to let yourself fall, I have to be able to hold you for that time." He continues, as your hand reaches out to let your finger follow some of the inked lines of his tattoos. "I go through just as many emotions as you do. It's why I told you aftercare is important for us both." He says, looking at where your finger is tracing his skin. "Without it, I can drop just as hard."

You adjust your position as he finishes his explanation, looking at him. "Is there.. can I do anything to make sure you.. like, don't?" You ask. "As in- what do you need to feel good afterwards too?" You wonder, and he laughs to himself, shaking his head before he pulls you a bit closer for a second.

"Like I said-" he says, stretching his arms as well. "-I just need you. As long as you make me feel wanted, I'll be fine." He offers, before he kisses you're forehead, only to get up and walk into the bathroom right after.

You're not entirely sure if you understand what he means by making him 'feel wanted'-

But you'll do everything that you can to make sure he's gonna enjoy this week just as much as you know you will.

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You're both having breakfast, simple foods on the table, and in a way, it feels almost domestic. You already don't want to ever leave his home ever again- everything's so calm and it feels almost.. surreal. You've never felt like this. Up until now, you've always been somewhat stressed about things, so much so that it's become normal to you. The pressure of work, someone ringing the doorbell even if it's just the mailman, your boss calling you into office every now and then- pressure and stress have always been there for you. So, in a way, this calm and carefree bubble you're currently in, is intimidating you.

A lot.

"Have you ever given head before?" Jungkook asks suddenly, making you choke on your glass of water, making him pat your back with a grin on his face. "Sorry, I should've waited until you were done drinking." He laughs, and you slowly catch your breath again.

"I uh- tried but it was awkward really quickly so he.. kind of told me not to.." you reply to him, your words growing quieter towards the end. He feels an odd sense of pity for you- not really in a demeaning manner, but more so in a way of empathy. After all, he's been through a bad relationship in the past too- one that had given him major insecurities from himself and his body, issues he needed time for to solve them for himself. He feels for you. You should've never had to experience those things.

But if he can do anything to help you heal, he will do it.

"Did you not like it?" He asks casually, eating the simple breakfast food he's made earlier. He's so at ease with these things that you can't help but be as well- shrugging.

"I.. don't remember." You answer honestly. "I'm not sure anymore. I think.. like, the idea of doing it with you seems a bit intimidating, but not.. unattractive, you know?" You say, carefully lifting your gaze to look at him, who's lips are slowly turning upwards at the corners as he chews his food.

"Would you like to try? After we're done eating?" He asks, and you nod. It's another sign that you're growing more comfortable with him- clear answers falling more freely from you, you're no longer as eager to make sure you keep your true intentions hidden. And while he knows you still hold back a lot, he still appreciates the steps you're taking towards him.

Because it makes him eager to finally take your hand and never let go.

"You know.." You start, slowly, and he let's you go at your own pace for a moment, not pressuring you by looking at you or anything. He knows you're easily intimidated and pushed backwards whenever you try and jump over your own shadow in any way, so he tries to keep things as comfortable as he can for now. Just like he said, he's getting to know you, after all- not only on a physical level, but an emotional one as well. He's got the unique opportunity to really look behind the scenes of your otherwise always carefree nature you put up.

He wants this simple act to become a reality with him. He wants to be able to actually make you feel relaxed, and comfortable, and not so stressed all the time. Because he felt it. In the tense muscles of your body, in your need to somehow prove to him that you can be independent, and even before he got to touch you he's known. You seem awfully terrified of relying on someone, of trusting, or simply letting someone else take the reigns. You never truly let yourself go, and while he wants to know why- this week, he's rather gonna focus on showing you that he can be a safe zone for you.

He can't erase what memories you've already made. He can't undo what's happened to you- but he can make sure that your future experiences will outweigh any bad past you're carrying around.

"How about we.. uhm.." You start, instantly gaining his attention. You seem to think deeply before you bite on your bottom lip, a nervous habit he's already noticed. He does it too, mostly with his piercings- so he's in no position to try and scold you for it. "Like, I feel like you're not.. uh.." You don't know how to say it, and it's clear to him. He wonders what you want to say. He's not- what? What do you want him to do?

"You know you can be honest with me." He chuckles. "Really. If there's anything I'm doing that's not comfortable to you, you should actually said it." he offers, and you nod, putting your cutlery down before you lean back on your hands.

"It just.." You still struggle clearly. "You're the.. dom, right?" You ask, and he nods. "But, it doesn't really feel like it?" You carefully phrase, probably because you don't want to scratch his ego in case he'd feel attacked. But he's not so fragile. He won't break from a simple observation like that.

Mostly, because you're right. And that's been a calculated move from the very start.

"I don't want to overwhelm you, simply." He shrugs. "I hardly think you would've enjoyed our first experience together if I was to push you around and bark orders at you, would you?" He jokes almost, and you nod after thinking about it.

He's right. That would've probably more or less traumatized you.

"But we can definitely increase the intensity, if you want to." Jungkook offers casually. "I go at your pace, after all."

"But is that even enjoyable to you then?" You wonder, a bit insecure. "Isn't it boring?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Trust me-" He smiles, collecting the empty dishes on the table. "-having sex with the person you love is never boring." He winks, before he takes your dishes too, and brings them into the kitchen to wash them.

All while you're left stunned by his words spoken so effortlessly and out in the open as if they were nothing.

You wonder when you'll be able to do that.

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It's only Tuesday, and for some reason, sex has already begun to feel.. almost natural with Jungkook.

He doesn't make it into an awkward show, or something you need to endlessly prepare for- and neither does he keep it strictly bound to one place or setting like you've known it to be in the past. Jungkook is a free spirit- and it shows in the way he approaches sex and intimacy.

It's odd, how you're already noticing that.

"Now remember, Tiger stops everything. Saying it is nothing bad, it won't make things awkward-" he recites to you, as he crawls onto the couch, already shirtless. "-well simply calm down, clean up, and talk about what made you use it. Not to put you on a pedestal-" he continues, and you nod.

"-But to communicate and learn, I know." You reassure him, and he smiles, tapping below your chin.

"Good Girl." He teases, probably accidentally making your heart jump.

Whenever he says things like this, does things like this, you feel like you're actually falling in love with him. And that's fine, right? After all, he wants to love you too.

He's just waiting for you, patiently.

"Alright. Eyes on me from now on." He demands, commanding tone making it clear that the scene has begun- and the excitement of it easily begins to bubble up in your veins, filling your bloodstream with warmth and anticipation, while he moves, buckle of his belt jingling a little as he discards his pants- and you just know, from the way he moves, that he's also stripping off the rest of his clothes.

But you stay strong, even though your eyes desperately want to wander lower, curiosity spreading as he moves to sit behind you, when you feel something cool but soft against your wrists he's holding behind your back. "Remember-" he lowly speaks. "-If you feel like you'll panic, say the word." He reminds you one last time, before he pulls his pelt tight, experienced movements of his hands binding together yours, making you unable to use them anymore.

And then, you feel his lips. Faintly, almost teasing, pecking your skin, from the spot where your wrists rest straight up your spine to the back of your neck.

You shiver, but not from the cold. He chuckles as if to answer, before he moves to sit down with his back against the headrest of the pull out couch you've slept on with him last night, reaching out to you.

His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect.

It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess Aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

You're not to sure what you're doing, but you're going small steps at a time, threading carefully to check what works and what doesn't. It's intimidating, yes- but not in a bad way. More like, you know what you want, you got the goal right in sight of you, but the road there seems a bit tough to navigate.

But you'll figure it out. You'll earn his praise, his affection, and most of all-

The sight of his face bathed in pleasure.

You lick the very tip as if to taste first, eyes looking up at him to check if there's any change in his expression- but he just watches you for now, not much to be seen on his face yet. Only when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock does he lean his head back, eyes closed and lips parted, and you know that while yes, you're getting what you wanted-

It's not enough. You want to see more.

Your wrists struggle for a second as you're reminded that they're out of order for now- and instead of starting to panic like you thought you might, you instead think of any other way you could use your mouth on him. You don't want to be boring.

If you're boring he might just not want you.

And you want him to want you.

Rolling your tongue around his head, you notice the way the muscles in his lower stomach contract- a clear reaction, face also scrunched up in what you know must be a positive reaction-

Because he's smiling, after all.

You're taking him deeper and deeper, testing your own limits, and its really making him use up all his willpower not to grab your hair and fuck your mouth. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, you're slowly easing that tension in your bones too- you're becoming comfortable, and that alone is reward enough.

That, and your goddamn tongue running over his cock like a succubus.

You're not sure how to properly stimulate him considering you can't fit much of him in your mouth, so you occasionally let him pop out just to lick the rest of him base to tip. You like the way it makes his breath hitch.

"So good." He praises, breathes out mostly as you hold him flat on your tongue, swallowing around him.

And he gasps out at that, a moan escaping him that sounds so forbidden that it sends pleasure right down your core. You do it again, and it makes his face scrunch up, teeth biting his bottom lip as he starts to look concentrated on something.

"You can spit it out." He says, and for a second you're not sure what he's saying, having just started to play around with sucking the head slightly, when his thighs seem to struggle keeping still, a drawn out groan escaping him as his release shoots into your mouth.

You drink him up, and he can't help but laugh.

You really are dangerous, a demon in disguise.

The moment you let him go, you lick your lips, although the bitter taste makes you involuntarily cringe slightly. He can't help but chuckle in endearment at the sight, moving in his position to kiss your cheek, jaw and neck, tongue running over your skin it feels like, his kisses both incredibly dirty but sweet.

It makes you feel butterflies, and they're just as excitedly fluttering around as your body is as soon as his hand finds its way between your legs.

"So wet- desperate to get off, aren't you?" He asks, and you nod, easily falling onto your back to lift your legs as he strips off your underwear, clear strings of arousal clinging to the fabric for a moment before its discarded somewhere you don't care. "Look at that pretty cunt." He chuckles, hand easily moving, fingers dipping between your lower lips to cover themselves in your juices, every motion smoothly gliding. Two of them enter your achingly empty core, and he feels you clench around his digits already as he moves them in and out. "So soft and warm.. makes me wanna bury myself balls deep inside it." He says, and you whine at the thought of it.

You want it. No matter if you can't take it- you want it.

He takes out his fingers just for a moment to teasingly tap your clit, making you kick out your legs in frustration as he keeps on providing never enough friction or stimulation to truly get you off.

"Please-" you beg, out of breath. "-please make me cum!" You tell him, and the corners of his lips move upwards at your first true demand voiced out clearly.

"You wanna cum, huh.." he hums almost to himself, when he moves to perk your butt up on his thigh, before his hand cups your heat for a moment, as if to contemplate what to do next.

And then his fingers are back inside, curling and moving rapidly, heel of his palm finally giving you that friction you've been seeking. But it's fast, it's rough, and while you don't say the word that would stop it, you're unsure what's happening to yourself.

"Let go." He tells you, free hand grabbing one of your tits to let his thumb run over your perked up nipple. "You wanted to cum-" he almost mocks you, "so cum." He demands, and that you do.

You don't know what exactly happens, but you know that he doesn't seem to mind it, so it's probably nothing bad.

Wet sounds suddenly echo off the walls as he moves a bit slower, pushes you through your orgasm and straight into another, softer one that doesn't make you almost deaf and blind. It soothes you a little, until the sting of overstimulation makes your hips jump.

You only barely notice his palm soothingly running up and down your thigh now, having let go of your still throbbing cunt as you recover from whatever that was, sheets visibly darkened below you while his hand and forearm are glistening with liquid.

You can see him smile down at you, and that's enough. You don't need to understand anything to just enjoy his affectionate eyes on you.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

You're in the bathtub, when you inspect your wrists, his own hands carefully holding them, thumb running over the red marks left. They'll fade soon, you know that- and it makes you almost sad, looking at them.

"Leather is a bit rough." He hums in thought. "I'll use something softer next time." He offers, moving your wrists closer to his face to kiss the skin there.

"Its fine.." you say quietly, voice echoing off the tiled walls of his bathroom. "I like.. this." You say, and he chuckles.

"Me kissing you, or the marks on your skin?" He wonders, and you shrug, water moving a bit.

"Both." You say, looking up at him from over your shoulder.

"Noted." He jokes, though you can see something sparkle in his eyes. "Though, I gotta say.." he says, moving a bit as the water sloshes around, "...that was quite impressive for a first-timer." He jokes, and you roll your eyes, face turning red.

"I didn't even know what I was doing." You deny, making him laugh openly.

"Well, once you know what you're doing you're gonna send me straight to the moon then." He exaggerates playfully. "That'll be an out-of-body experience!" He tells you, and you just lean back into his chest, shrugging.

"Well, I've got five more days to work on my skills." You proudly say, and he nods quietly.

"Only five?" He teases, and you groan.

"Yeah.." you hum, looking up at him. "Tonight I just wanna.. cuddle?" You ask, and he nods softly down at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"Cuddling it is then." He tells you, reaching over your shoulder to drain the tub of the soapy water.

And true to his word, the rest of the day is in fact spent mostly domestic and without any further mention of any.. adult activities, until a question begins to bother you, as you watch him scroll for something to watch on his TV. "Hey, Jungkook?" You wonder, and he raises his brows, humming a reply to you that shows his peaked interest in what you've got to say. "Isn't it.. gonna be, I don't know.." You mumble, unsure how to phrase it. "How come we haven't had.. sex yet?" You ask, and he looks confused for a moment, before he looks at you, task immediately abandoned at your words.

"I'm not sure if I follow." He jokes. "I'm pretty sure we had sex just a few hours earlier? When you squirted-" He starts but you wave him off like an annoying insect in panic, making him laugh at your shy antics.

"No no no, that's not-" You shakes your head, before you clarify. "That's not- like, proper sex. You know." You try to get him onto the right path, and he leans back into the couch, crossing his arms.

"Ah-" He hums out after a moment of contemplating what you've said, finally processing it correctly. "Okay, I get what you mean now. Though I've gotta correct you-" he says, putting down the remote to the TV for now. "-I don't have to put my dick in you to be able to call it sex." He corrects you in a gentle way, before he uncrosses his arms, turning his body more towards you. "But I have a feeling that's not entirely your point." he continues, and you shrug.

"I don't know how to explain it." You complain. "Like, even if I'm gonna like everything you do this week-" You offer, trying to convey your feelings properly. "-I'm still not gonna be able to.. have that kind of sex with you." You say, and he scrunches up his brows for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Doesn't mean we can't try." He tells you. "Is that something you'd want?" He asks, and you nod. "No, I mean- is that something you'd like to do? Don't just say yes because you think I'll need that from you to feel satisfied. I can think of numerous different ways to get myself off with your help, don't you worry about that." He chuckles, especially when you grow clearly flustered by his blunt way of talking about this entire topic.

"I already know I can't do it." You deflate, averting your eyes. "I told you- it didn't work-" You start, but he shakes his head.

"Just because it didn't work with him, doesn't mean anything." He denies. "There's tons of reasons you weren't able to take him. Maybe actual size, maybe poor preparation, maybe you were too tense, maybe all of it- we'll never truly know." He shrugs his shoulders. "Trust me when I tell you, that if you want to try, I'm gonna make sure I'll use any way I know of to make it as comfortable as I can." He offers, but you don't seem too convinced.

"But you're- like, a lot bigger than him." You say, probably unaware how that fuels Jungkook's ego in secret, as he suppresses a smirk.

"So?" He asks, unable to see your point. "I'm not like him. I actually care about my partner's pleasure together with my own. You'll just have to trust me, and I'll make sure to try any way to make it work." He offers, and after a moment or two, you nod.

"Okay." You say. "I want to.. try then. Like, not right now- but, I don't know. At some point." You nod, and he grins brightly, nodding as well.

"I'll keep it in mind."

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"You're still awake." He notes as he sits down on the edge of the pulled out sofa, having left his bedroom to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night, and you sigh, admitting it with that reaction. "What's on your mind?" He asks, and you shrug, turning towards him.

It'd be selfish to ask him to sleep in the same bed with you again, right? After all, this week is about sex, and finding out if you're.. physically compatible, so to say. Or maybe not even that. He'd just said he wants to convince you of his ways, not that he'd be with you at the end of this week. Have you lost that out of sight, already?

It's only Tuesday, and you're already somewhat regretting things. It feels weird, like that feeling of disappointment you get when thinking of a past experience or achievement you missed out on because you'd been simply stupid or selfish.

This doesn't mean anything to him. He's just so caring because that's what he's like with everyone he fucks.

"Nothing." You say, refusing to open up to him, and he doesn't know what brought that on. He's not sure what he's supposed to do now- after all, you both agreed to exploring each other on an intimate level, but you didn't actually clarify if you wanted to explore anything romantic either. He doesn't want to overstep a line for you, doesn't want to push anything you wouldn't feel comfortable with.

But at the same time, he can't help but feel like you're constantly reaching out for his heart, though careful, and unsure.

"If it keeps you up at night it's not nothing." He declines your answer, reaching out to adjust one of the pillows so it doesn't hide your face from him. "Tell me. I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He reminds you, and you stay still for a moment or two, clock on the wall of his open kitchenette ticking the only sound in the apartment for a good while.

"I think I-" You start, unable to finish that sentence how you'd like to.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

"I think I don't want to sleep alone." You instead say out loud, sounding horribly selfish in your own ears. But he just chuckles and nods, patting the blanket you're under.

"Scoot over then." He teases, making you move just like he'd requested, before he sneaks underneath the blanket where you're already warm and cozy. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asks quietly, as you look at him in the darkness of the apartment.

You nod, silently, hoping he sees.

He does- but he doesn't believe in it. There's something on your mind you're not telling him, and he knows he's gonna have to coax it out of you at some point this week, because there's this odd feeling in his chest that suspects, and maybe even hopes, that what he himself is feeling might just be what you're battling with as well.

And he wants to hear you say it.

He wants you to love him.

[buckgasms]

Doctors' Barnes and Rogers (Part 3)

Part threeeeeee! This kinda gets a bit fluffy at the end so who knows what the heck is happening but I hope you enjoy it!

Doctor kink, breeding kink, dubious doctors behaving dubiously but also sweet so..... Also pregnancy talk so please avoid if that may upset you ❤️

Part One // Part Two

The next week you were inundated with tasks and paperwork to read over before your next session with the Doctors. Copious notes about your cycle, number of times you felt aroused in the weeks and detailed descriptions on what that consisted of.

It was a bit embarrassing to send these off every evening but Dr Barnes insisted it would be helpful. Some of your deepest fantasies, and some more recent thoughts about your recent encounter with two hot doctors. Hopefully they wouldn't judge you too much.

Dr Rogers had emailed you requesting images which you had felt even more embarrassed about, but complied in the name of science. You sent him images of your pretty pussy for the most part, but he also seemed to need pictures of your ass, breasts and even one of your mouth open. It made little sense to you but he said it was all required for the process, so you did it. The more you spoke to them and thought about having a little baby of your own you felt more desperate to get everything right and make them happy. You didn't want to risk them kicking you off the programme just because you didn't send a little picture here and there.

⚕️

Eventually the date arrived where you would go through the first procedure. You felt incredibly nervous but also so excited. You still didn't quite know what the process was going to look like, but if it was anything like your check up you were quite happy with that. Dr. Barnes did say it was quite 'revolutionary' so who knows what was in store?

It was a day time appointment for a change but the whole office was completely empty. "We shut the place for today, it's a special day sweetheart" Bucky said, guiding you into his examination room, a place you were starting to look forward to being. "I'm excited, but I do feel a bit scared Doctor." You mumble as he takes your coat and hangs it up before turning to you and taking your soft hand in his warm one.

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. Steve and I are going to take such good care of you and make sure you feel great the whole time. You've trusted us this far, keep going sweetie." You smiled and squeezed his hand back nodding eagerly. "You're right, it's going to be great..."

At that moment Steve walked in and smiled at the little scene in front of him. "How are we today? Ready to make a baby?" You giggled and nodded again making them smile at you. "Oh did all my pictures come through Dr. Rogers?" You ask, heat flaring in your cheeks as you suddenly wanted to know he liked them, even though that wasn't the point!

"Oh they were marvelous, really helpful. And your little diary was also enlightening. So glad you enjoyed your time with us last time..." You thought you might die from embarrassment but they just chuckled and nudged you.

"Ok sweetie, we're gonna try and few things out today, so if it's uncomfortable just tell us, the better you feel, the more chance it has of working right?" You nod and they start moving round the room as you wait for instruction.

"Right, we need you to undress now honey and we'll get everything set up." Steve said before providing a screen for you to take your clothes off. As you did so, you could hear movement on the other side, equipment being moved and a bit of huffing from the doctors.

You peaked around the screen and watched them set up a bench, with a thin flat leather cushion. It looked quite...kinky and you couldn't help feel a twinge of excitement through your body. They turned around and caught you peeking. "Come here sweet thing, nothing to be frightened of..." Bucky said, holding out a hand for you, which you gratefully took after shuffling over, an arm over your breasts as you approached them.

"This is a sort of breeding bench. You have to lay face down on this soft cushion here and we can stimulate you from either end. We can also tilt the bench once you are inseminated to make sure it really takes. You should be nice and comfortable but if you need to move at any time, you just let us know. Any questions so far?"

"Um, how will the...insemination bit happen?" You say quietly, nibbling on your finger and looking between them. "Well we can do it two ways. Either we can use a machine, but that might be a bit uncomfortable..." Steve said, looking at your seriously and you bit your lip. "Oh, what's the other option?" He rubs your back, making your skin tingle, before brushing your hair away from your face. "Dr. Barnes and I are happy to provide samples directly. That way we can adjust to your comfort and monitor you more closely."

Your eyes widened at the thought. You'd had a little bit of first hand experience with their direct approach. They were both very well endowed and you wondered out loud, "do you think I can take you?" They both chuckled and rubbed your arms and back, "absolutely sweetheart, we've done the tests and you're perfect for us... but it's up to you of course..."

There was a beat in the air until finally you nodded. "Let's do it that way. I don't want to be uncomfortable with a machine. Are you sure that's ok?" They nodded quickly and told you it was absolutely fine with them.

"Good, that's really good honey. Are you ready to start?"

They guided you onto the bench, your breasts hung down on either side of the leather and you rested your chin on your folded arms as they positioned your legs into place. You felt remarkably relaxed for the compromising position you were in, but you were in good hands. Hands that were now running over your soft skin, squeezing gently at you making you sigh.

"Feeling good?" Bucky asks, a clear amusement in his voice as his fingers squeeze at your ass cheeks before running down your leg. "Mmm yeah, this is so comfy" you almost moan.

"Good, anything changes, let us know. We'll get started then, just relax and let us do the work."

You try and watch them but it's difficult from your position, so you decide to close your eyes and try and figure it out from the sensations. You think it's Bucky who is settled between your legs, running his hands along your upper thighs, occasionally rubbing across your folds, making you moan quietly into your arms.

Your moan becomes louder when Steve grips your nipple between his fingers and starts squeezing and twisting. In moments you are humping Bucky's hand as he rubs more vigorously along your wet slit. "Good girl, so responsive for us hmm?" Steve mutters in your ear as he pulls and tweaks at you.

"Tell me how it feels" Bucky says and you whine, "feels good...want more please?" You are begging already, but it only seems to make them happy. Steve attaches a suction cup to your breasts which makes you cry out in delight before you feel his hand brush at your hair. You manage to open your eyes as Bucky sinks a finger into your pussy, his thumb rubbing firmly at your clit. "Want something in your mouth honey?" He asks and you moan, nodding your head and reaching for him.

His cock springs free and you immediately latch on, focusing all your tension and desperation on his thick length, sucking harder than you ever had. "Jesus Christ, she's feeling needy today" Steve growls, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts slowly in and out of your mouth.

Bucky, unable to retain his impatience anymore, slips his cock free of his boxers and lines up to your aching heat. Thanks to his excellent preparation he glides in until he is flush with your ass, and begins to rut. You are already fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them open.

"That feel good baby? You like that" he mutters, testing a quick spank to your pretty cheeks as he fucks you. Pausing for air you cry out a yes, before Steve guides you back to him. Tears stream down the face as pleasure rips through your body, their unrelenting pace already making you feel like you are floating on air.

"Gonna make us a baby ain't ya? Gonna be a good girl for us and make us a daddy hmm?" Steve says through gritted teeth as he pulls out of your hungry mouth. He crouches down and presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead. "Nothing I'd like more than to see you swallow my come honey, but gotta save it for your pretty cunt right? We're gonna fill you up.."

You nod and reach your hands out for him which he takes, pressing more kisses to your messy lips. "Already drunk on cock honey? We knew you'd be the perfect little candidate. Like a little bunny ain't ya? Just made for getting fucked and full right?"

As he goads you, Bucky rams his cock faster into your aching hole, his fingers rubbing at your clit from underneath. Your hips buck at the sensations but they have you tied down just enough that any movement doesn't get you very far. "Atta girl, gonna make me come, just keep squeezing me like that sweetness" he groans. The tension builds in your stomach until one final swipe has it snapping, your orgasm ripping through you and clamping down on Bucky.

His groans mix with your wails, as you squeeze Steve's hand even tighter until you drop everything, laying there panting as your lower half twitches. When he's satisfied Bucky pulls out but you suddenly feel Steve slide in and continue the steady pace.

"Ah I can't... S'too sensitive" you cry but Bucky has taken position at your head. "Come on sweetheart, we don't want to waste any samples. You can do it. For us, I know you can..." Steve keeps his hips moving steadily, but not too rough to hurt so you can only let the pressure build again. You watch Bucky fiddle with the suction cup on your breast, the vibrations and suction getting stronger until you can't contain your scream as another powerful orgasm rips through you and Steve is filling you up.

After a moment where you think you must have stopped breathing you feel the table tilt forward and a tape is put over your sensitive pussy. "Did so well for us baby. Gonna leave you here for a bit to get that settled, then we'll do it all again."

"Again?" You cry, not knowing how you could possibly manage another round of that. They chuckle and press a little kiss each to your face. "Yes silly, don't you know it takes lots and lots of goes to make sure it all works. Today's the best day to do it. Although we might even keep you in overnight so we can keep going..."

You begin to protest but Bucky presses another kiss to your face and switches on the suction cups, cutting your voice off immediately and replaces it with a groan. "That's better" he says before providing his thumb for you to suck on which you cant resist as he pushes it passed your lips.

"Don't worry, we want to take care of you sweetheart. We know just what you need..."

⚕️

After a few more rounds you needed to change position, so Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you to a more comfortable couch. From there, they both spent what felt like hours fucking you full.

The idea of getting you pregnant seemed to fill them with an insatiable lust. They fucked you until your holes were aching, each flick to your clit was like agony, but you couldn't resist how good it felt either.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're milking me dry?" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, as you could only mewl in delight. "Aw has our pretty girl gone dumb for cock" Bucky mocked softly as he rubbed your clit while Steve filled you up again.

Bucky swiftly takes his place, pushing your aching pussy apart and spitting on your messy heat. "Fuck!" You cry out, already on the edge as he presses in to you. "Don't let it come out sweetheart, dont wanna waste a drop do you?" You shake your head as he slides in and out, every nerve ending on fire as he does.

"See that little bunny" Steve says, tugging at your aching heat, making your squeal. "That's a pussy being used correctly, filled with come and begging for more... Fucking perfect.."

Your whole body shakes as he keeps rubbing while Bucky groans, unable to contain his orgasm as you come yet again.

"Good girl, take it all, every drop" he moans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he fucks through his release.

Finally they decide to move you somewhere more comfortable and in the space of moving you, you fall asleep so they leave you to rest for a little while.

When you woke there was a jug of water, a bowl of fruit and a plate of sandwiches which you tucked into. While you nibbled you glanced down at your aching heat and found it puffy and overused, but not feeling at all bad about it. Your mind drifted back to when you and your ex husband had tried for a baby and you sometimes never even orgasmed, let alone felt like this. You had realised that all along he had lied to you and made you feel terrible when it was him who was the problem. But you didn't want to dwell anymore on him. It was pointless.

You took in the rest of your body, swollen nipples, little marks from their hands and lips as they had kissed, and bitten and sucked at you. You bit your lip remembering how you had written all these things in your diary to them. Clearly they had taken it very seriously, which you appreciated.

As you were beginning to wonder where they were, they arrived back into the office where they left you. There faces full of brightness at the sight of you awake.

"There's our girl! Are you feeling ok sweetie?" They both took time fussing over you, pressing your tummy for any aches, massaging your legs and hands and pressing cold stethoscopes to your chest making you giggle, as they tried to warm them up but failing.

"I feel fine I promise" you said after calming down and gripping their hands. They both leaned in a pressed a kiss to each cheek, but you felt bold and leaned over to Bucky then Steve, stealing a kiss on the lips from both of them.

"Oh sweetie, you really are perfect ain't ya?" Bucky says, pulling you back for a longer kiss before guiding you over to Steve so he could kiss you deeper, making you moan.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you back in there, you ready?" Bucky says, squeezing your thighs and you nod eagerly. You go to stand but he tuts and slips his arms under you and picks you up, making you squeak and wrap your arms around his neck. "I gotcha" he whispers and you steal another kiss from him, feeling so safe and happy in his arms. Before you are finally released and eagerly climb into place and settle down, wiggling at the anticipation.

⚕️

After a whole day they decide that the work they've done should be enough for now. They take you home in Bucky's car with Steve carrying you up to your apartment, which although you insist ksnt nessecary, you grip him tighter and lay your head on his shoulder. While Bucky unlocks your door Steve presses kisses to your forehead, all of your feeling quite happy with the amount of kisses being passed around.

Seeing the sorry state of your flat you cringe as you go inside. At least you had the forethought to tidy before you went to them the day before.

Bucky finds your pyjamas and once Steve pops down he gently helps you change as if you are precious cargo. You giggle as you tell him so and he smiles at you. "Sweetheart, you are..." He presses a hand to your tummy and you smile back "the most precious as far as we're concerned..."

Your tummy flips with something new but you decide not to worry right now. You feel exhausted despite the many naps you've had. "Ok you gotta sleep, eat and drink as much as possible. Try to leave the shower or bath until tomorrow morning if you can just to be sure." Steve says, placing a big water bottle on your side, with a bag of groceries on your kitchen table, filling up the fridge with healthy but delicious goodies.

"Ok I promise...when do you think I can do a test?" You say, as you snuggle up into your blankets. They explain that you might have to wait until next week, but if it's negative they can just keep repeating the process until it sticks.

You nod, feeling nervous but excited. They both kiss you goodbye and leave. You feel suddenly overwhelmed at the silence, having had such a crazy 24 hours of close, initmate contact. You take a big drink of water before sinking back into your pillows, your eyes fluttering closed as your mind was filled with images of them surrounding you and the pleasure that comes with it.

⚕️

One week later you are waiting nervously in your bathroom, a pregnancy test perched on the sink as you nibble your finger and watch the stopwatch on your phone.

You daren't look. You've been in this position so many times before it just feels horrible. You still have 2 minutes to wait but you feel sick at the thought of what's to come. You fiddle with your phone for a moment until you decide to call Bucky.

He answers almost immediately, concern in his voice. "Hi sweetie, everything ok?" You are a little surprised at his quick answer so you stutter for a bit, which makes him even more worried. Finally you manage to choke out, "I'm fine!" You both take a breath before you restart.

"I'm waiting for a test... Got a few more minutes and I just.... I feel scared..." You say quietly, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your eyes. He sighs at the other end and you know he has a concerned look on his face still.

"It's all ok sweetness. Whatever it says we still got you alright? You don't need to worry becaise Steve and I are with you every step of the way..."

You can only nod as he talks, his warm deep voice filling you with calm. Your phone buzzes as the timer runs out and you take a deep breath. "Ok are you ready?" You say and he tells you firmly that he is and it's going to be fine.

With shaky fingers you turn the test over. A little gasp escapes your lips and he asks with a more stressed voice than he would probably like. "What does it say sweetheart?"

Finally you let out a shaky laugh.

"It's positive"

[thatbuddie]

ok so bear with me here, this theory is based on nothing but vibes and dreams and delusions.

buddie is going canon in 8x12 which is also episode 118 of 911.

i still find it so interesting that they decided to make bi buck canon (i will never ever ever ever get over bi buck canon, btw) in episode 100 of the show. i know that nowadays episodes 100 of shows are not as big as they used to be (mainly because shows rarely make it to them) but they still mean something big. something big enough to warrant press and cakes and such. and what did 911 do with their 100th episode? they made it about bi buck. in a way that forever links the essence of 911 and bi buck forever. and i find that so incredibly beautiful.

it would be logical to argue that episode 8x12, which is episode number 118 of the show that revolves around station 118, has the potential to be something different and special too. i think that the best way to honor this would be by making it a mostly lighthearted team-focused episode. give me bottle episode at the station where the team receives 0 calls all shift, give me an episode from the 3rd person pov of the people that they help on calls and how they view the 118, give me a the 118 gets locked in a room silly episode, just give me something fun and heartfelt that shows the 118 as the family that they are!!! and then.... and then....

give me the first real confirmation of buddie going canon at the end of the episode. and i mean the very last scene of it.

they already connected a big episode (7x04 aka episode 100) with a very big moment that many many fans had been waiting for (bi buck). why not connect the other very core episode of the show (their 118 episode which is nothing really and yet so special of them) with the other big anticipated thing that fans have been dying for for years.

and like y'all, bi buck is important in and of itself and i hope we all know that. but bi buck is so intrinsically connected to buddie too. and i mean both in fandom and in the canon as well. like we know what subset of fandom has been reading buck as bisexual for seasons now and it's not most of the casual viewers (though i hope some did). it was the buddie fandom. and in 7x04 the way that buck's realization arc was so incredibly connected with eddie and their friendship is astounding. like i still can't believe that it went that way. and that is a deliberate choice. there were a thousand ways in which they could have done it and then said "we are putting eddie diaz, evan buckley's best friend and the guy that everyone who wants bi buck ships him with, in the center of it." so it would be very on brand for producers and writers to give us the actual buddie of it all in episode 118 which could be an episode to touch the core of the show -found family, the firefighting aspect, the hope- which at this point includes buddie as well.

now we know NOTHING about s8 right now so this is where more vibes just get added but it would also make sense that it happens in 8x12 because that it the second half of the season. i feel like s8 is gonna start a little "dark" (and i just mean sad) for the 118. gerard is gonna be ruining their lives and making everything wrong. and eddie is gonna be doing badly, y'all. of course he is. so we can use the first 8 episodes to "solve" these things. eddie can finally be in therapy again for more than his ptsd. the 118 can be fighting to get bobby buck. the bucktommy relationship can be worked towards a break up that moves buck to the next stage of where he's going. and then s8b starts. and we have a "lighter" feeling. hopefully chris is back. bobby is back. buck and eddie are single and we can see that there is something there but for now it has been things that still maybe not everyone can catch on to. so then 8x12 happens and BOOM. buck and/or eddie realize/aknowledge/voice the truth of it all: it's always been about buddie. and then we have 6 more episodes in the season to explore that!!! which is a pretty fair number, i think.

so yeah, that is my-based-on-nothing-but-i'm-now-convinced-is-happening theory for a buddie canon confirmation in 8x12 aka episode 118 of 911.

[imsonormalipromise]

Mike and 'Boy' lettering in the van scene

I've been thinking about this all night so I have to share it. I'm sure this has probably been talked about before but I don't think its been talked about enough, so here we go!!

Before I say anything else, it's important to establish that, as many of us know, the van scene was not shot in an actual moving van. It was shot/filmed like this:

So that means things like lighting (e.g. sunlight and shadows) were all artificial and, therefore, deliberate. We also know it took them a whole day to film this scene because they wanted everything to be perfect, so what I'm about to talk about is not a stretch at all.

I'll first be talking about the 'Boy' shadows that can be seen behind Mike at certain times. What's fascinating and what confirms that it's significant, is that it comes from the 'Surfer Boy Pizza' lettering on the van window, but the only word that is projected alone is 'Boy'.

We first see the 'Boy' shadow when Will jokes about El making them rich:

(I couldn't find this scene anywhere so I had to record it from my TV, hence the quality not being the best! Also part of my plant is on the left hand side of the screen, so just ignore that..)

It's interesting that it disappears when the perspective flips back to Mike at the end, meaning the shadow had a purpose when it was shown. Mike appeared to be looking at Will's lips (?) when the shadow was visible, so it's like even though Will mentioned El here, Mike might not have been thinking about El...and instead was thinking about a boy, aka Will. (What's also interesting and, again, deliberate was the sunlight shining down onto Will from Mike's POV, further hinting that Mike was thinking about Will).

The next time we see the 'Boy' shadow is even clearer and appears when Mike is voicing his insecurity surrounding his and El's relationship:

To make it clearer, here's the clip:

Mike says he keeps telling himself that El needs him, like he's trying to convince himself...and with the 'Boy' shadow flying past behind him, it gives insight into why he's trying to convince himself and why it's such a big thing for him. Most of us know or deeply suspect that Mike has some internalised homophobia, which would explain his conflict, and the need to conform and "stick to a normal path" aka keep clinging onto his relationship with El.

And, again, to reiterate - it was a deliberate choice to project this shadow behind Mike. There are shots where we see the full 'Surfer Boy Pizza' shadow, so the fact in the ones shown above we are only shown the 'Boy', is HUGE:

Moving on to the other 'Boy' lettering, we see the word framed right next to Mike's head several times over the course of the van scene. E.g.

Again, the only word that is not cut off is 'Boy' - Surfer Boy Pizza. And it's framed next to his head!! It doesn't matter that the word is flipped, it was still deliberate! Especially considering the other shots where the 'Boy' is visible:

The 'Boy' is originally positioned in the middle of Mike and Will. When we get it near Will, it's cut off. So the choice to frame it fully showing next to Mike's head is so intentional!!

My take on the use of this lettering is that we know Will is gay and we know he is in love with Mike, so we know what he is feeling in this scene. But we don't know what Mike's thoughts are, so we need hints, some of them being the 'Boy' lettering and shadows around him.

I hope this made sense!

[howaheartbreaks]

Tried to write this on reddit but the post was too long and thought I’d throw my hand in the tumblr ring:

My interpretation on why Colin’s arc this season matters so much to me.

The benefit and the curse to this season is that to understand the full story arc of Colin and Penelope you have to watch all three seasons. I feel like they could have been more blatant in the text and given them more scenes in part 1 to completely flesh this out and remind the viewer what they’ve been through, but this is all in the text (past seasons) and subtext up until the carriage speech.

Season 1 Colin is romantic and naive. He becomes infatuated with Marina almost at first sight and still probably believes in fairy tale romances. Marina herself says that Colin is eager and does not guard his affections. Anthony has his duties as head of the family, Benedict has his bohemian pursuits, both of them are known flirts and rakes, frequenting brothels often and having had a world of experience. It’s implied that Colin is a virgin and when he proposes to Marina, Anthony scolds him for his naivety and suggests he should have been taken to brothels to be a man and “wet his wick” as if he were experienced, he wouldn’t be so hasty to marry someone he didn’t know. Colin doubles down in his commitment to Marina which then ends in tragedy when it’s revealed she’s pregnant. He understandably falls into depression as he had chosen a purpose (to be a loyal husband in love) and he had gotten screwed over due to his naivety. Colin also has a bit of hero complex, which we can see multiple times throughout season 1 such as when he dances with Pen after Cressida spills her drink. In his duty and loyalness, he confesses that he would have married Marina if she had told him the truth. Colin is very loyal and very protective of those he loves and he sees his value in how he can help and protect others, and having them need him. He makes the decision to do the thing he always wanted to do, travel, as Pen kept reminding him, as a way to become literally, more worldly.

Colin returns in season 2 and finds that people aren’t that interested in his travels nor did they particularly miss him while he was gone, the exception of which was of course Pen. He tries to speak to his family and gets shut down. He feels isolated once more and then also realises he still doesn’t have a sense of purpose, nor does anyone need him. It’s implied he is still sensitive because despite travelling, Colin is still not the man the ton expects him to be. He visits Marina in some naive hope, and she basically tells him to grow up and move on with his life. Penelope and he have a lovely conversation about purpose. He looks into various pursuits and then as we know he gets to be the hero again when he discovered Jack Featherington is swindling the ton and saves the Featheringtons. But Colin is still beheld to the expectations of the ton and when the men are finally paying atttention to him at the ball, he says he would never court Penelope in an attempt to fit in, even though we’ve all just clearly witnessed him go out of his way to save her.

Colin leaves again, and this time he vows to be a changed man. He sleeps around, “grows up”, learns how to be charming and finally when he returns is he warmly greeted by all the women and the men as the ton finally recognises him as a man. Anthony and Benedict clap him on the back, the ladies fawn over him, and men like Fife and Cho engage with him in a way we haven’t seen since he told them he wouldn’t court Penelope. He plays aloof with stories of his travels because he knows the mystery makes people more intrigued than when he told them everything (telling his family he doesn’t remember how many cities he’s been to, and then telling Pen it’s 17 because he knows the answer), and in some cases he is still not comfortable or willing to share personal details of his sexual exploits because he’s still a romantic at heart. Colin feels like he’s nailed it.

Except. He hasn’t. It’s only surface level. The cracks first emerge when he approaches Penelope at the debutante showing, going out of his way to find her (as he always does). She seems closed off and has not written to him all summer. Previously she was the ONLY one to engage him, and probably the only one he could be himself with. Yet that one connection has completely gone. This is pure speculation and unlikely to ever be confirmed, but without Pen’s correspondence it may have even been a catalyst for him to change himself/seduce women. You can tell he’s nervous approaching her, even with his new aesthetic, which he himself remarks are only clothes. She’s closed off and basically dismisses him, probably leaving him feeling a bit stupid. He sees her glow up at the ball (:o) and while he does not approach her but continues to watch her, he runs after her immediately when she runs out, in care for her wellbeing and also because he knows the conversation he is having with the lords is super shallow. She dismisses him again, and then tells him it was his grave error in trying to fit in that made him lose his one deep connection. And then he vows IMMEDIATELY to make amends, calling upon her the next day to make it right. It is his first real and honest conversation. He tells her charm can be taught (he’s faking it), that he seeks her out because she lifts his spirits (he never looks happy in a public setting unless he is with her) and that hers is the one person whose opinion matters the most.

So:

1. Colin was a naive romantic who felt like he had to conform to the approved of society

2. He is faking his true personality (shown in his heartfelt conversation with Pen, how despite everything he seeks her out and values her the most, that he lies about how many cities he’s been to just to seem cooler)

3. He is fighting against societal expectations

4. At this stage he’s still trying to have it all - the women, his family’s approval, the ton’s approval and Pen’s approval.

He goes home and is furious with Lady Whistledown because she has called out his obvious ruse, and he is upset that what he is trying to fake is so obvious.

Episode 2 rolls around and he doesn’t do much except follow her around and fawn after her. His new interests have started to fade immediately as soon as he starts speaking with Pen again. He tells her to be herself and act like they did when they were kids - which is hilarious, considering Colin has attempted to change everything about himself to NOT be himself and NOT act like an adult (the irony Colin is not aware of). It’s her compliments of his writing and his eyes that make him flustered. He entertains women and men at gatherings, but is always looking for her and physically not pleased when she speaks to other men. He laughs with her (honestly, first moment of pure childhood glee for him and he makes a pun which was reminiscent of earlier seasons Colin). He runs after her again and emotionally argues with Eloise, because damn the ton it’s Pen he cares about (my poor sweet boy). He’s so loyal and protective of her. He doesn’t even attempt to dance with anyone at these parties. Hes so distraught she could be suffering that he goes immediately to her, damn the rules of society, and agrees to kiss her and even tries to keep going before she leaves. Because he finally realises that his feelings for Pen are romantic, that it’s not just friendship that he seeks, but a true romantic relationship with his best friend.

He’s awkward and cute as he approaches her the next day, which is the complete opposite of how he’s been trying to act - she is making him act like his former self, his true self. She tells him they should keep their distance and he reluctantly puts on the armour again.

But, Colin actually lasts for like a day before he realises he will go crazy if he does not confess his feelings to Penelope and the entire facade that his has created has completely crumbled by this point - the obsessed boy is BACK. He stops talking to the women in the ton, expresses 0 interest in sex with the prostitutes, entertains a drink with the other lords before going off at them for how shallow and meaningless and fake they all are, and then commits several social faux pas pursuing Pen because he doesn’t care about anything except her anymore.

His confession in the carriage is the culmination of all of this. He’s tried to feel less (because he was too sensitive), he’s tried to grow up (and be a man), he’s tried to flirt and be a rake (because he was too green), and he’s tried to fight against expectations (Penelope not being desirable) but what is the point because all he wants and his entire happiness is centred around Penelope and if she rejected him or married Debling he would have nothing left.

Colin Bridgerton does not care anymore because he is #1 loyal obsessed protective boy and he will go through heaven and earth for Penelope and I love him so much for it.

[cryslut]

Fyodor x Dazai x Reader NSFW 18+

「 Fyodor ~ Dazai ~  Reader 」

- 18+ content ahead, pure smut, very NSFW, MDNI get outta here plz n go do ur homework

- Fem Reader

- First and Second Person POV

- CW: degradation, praise, orgasm denial, Bondage,  Voyeurism, Humiliation, Impact play, edging

I don't normally often publish nsfw works so i really hope u enjoy this, publishing this is a bit out of my comfort zone. i also don't write nsfw works a lot so plz be nicer on this one lol

↳ Fyodor + Dazai + Reader

You don't know you ended up in this situation, Dazai and Fyodor got along so well but despised each other, and their feelings for you and their jealousy got the better of them and now you're in one messy predicament. Tears and mascara running down your face, all while the two of them both put you in your place.

You made a joke you found quite humorous making fun of the two for being enemies all while mocking them and they somehow did not like this and took their opportunity to strike, which was very unlike them and out of character for them both. One thing lead to another and now you're here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Oh my, Dazai, it seems that this little whore wants some more," Fyodor says with a mocking tone. Your eyes were filled with your own tears, your hands and legs were tied together while your back was arching and your ass was in the air, your bare cunt exposed to Fyodor who was behind you. Dazai had his throbbing dick in your mouth.

The cycle of Dazai making you gag repeatedly and Fyodor rubbing your clit in a teasing manner was torture. You couldn't let out a single word as he wouldn't let you, all you could do was moan and whine at Fyodors touch, "Be a good girl for me Малышка, and keep your pretty ass still, you keep squirming everytime I touch you" Fyodor's accent rolls off his tongue.

(Малышка - maLYSHka - babygirl)

Fyodor's hand reaches to your clit rubbing it, you struggling to hold still, trying your best to obey his command, "Good girl, you're doing so good so far," His two fingers, his index and middle, insert themselves into your tight cunt, moving them around in a playful circle like motion teasing you, causing muffled whines to leave your still-filled mouth.

Dazai moves his hips and thrusts his dick into your throat deeper causing you to choke. Fyodor moves his fingers in and out of you ever so slowly. The slow pace from Fyodor and the fast pace from Dazai completely drives you insane to the edge.

Dazai, fully satisfied with what he's done, he pulls his dick out of your mouth causing your moans and whines to be more audible. Music to Fyodor's ears as he's satisfied with teasing you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Please, Fyodor.. Faster, faster, please please," I lose my sense of self begging the man behind me but his pace only slows down and then speeds up. As he works me to the edge, I feel myself getting closer and closer, "...I'm.. gonna.. fuck.." I breathe out.

Fyodor then stops what he's doing and pulls his fingers out of me, "No no, Малышка, you're gonna be a good little toy for us both and not cum, not yet," I whine at his words and I can hear him moving behind me positioning himself, I feel his dick filling me up, as I let out breathy little moans. I look up to see Dazai just standing there smirking at the scene before him, enjoying what's going on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Fyodor's pace on you starts off slow, barely going all the way in just barely teasing you causing several little whines out of you, Fyodor smirks at what his actions are causing. You're completely bound and helpless unable to move or do anything but squirm and wiggle around.

"You're doing so good, keep being good just for me, Малышка, the sweet sounds from you are a sweet haven to my ears," His praise gets a rise out of you and this causes you to start shifting your body back and forth, getting more desperate for his cock. Your breathing gets heavier and you pant like a dog on a leash.

He lands his hand on your bare ass forcefully causing you to yelp out while he grabs a hold of your hips and holds your body completely still. His movement begins to speed up and his breathing becomes heavier as he groans out. Moving his whole body to be on top of yours as he keeps pumping in and out of you in a fast but teasing motion.

"Fuck.. please.. more more more, Fedya, please.." Is all you can manage out, all you feel is him deep inside of you while you hear his sharp breaths and the groans he lets out, "You feel so fucking good, doll, you're so perfect for me, you're my little toy."

His pace quickens gradually, making your moans louder. You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm. His pace gets sloppy and slow as he pulls out of you before you can cum.

"You want more, doll?" His teases make you whine out your words in a breathy manner as little tears stream down your face, "Yes.. please," You beg, Fyodor reaches his hand over to you and wipes your tears away ever so slightly, he complies with your wishes and shoves his throbbing cock back into you thrusting in and out in a fast motion. Your whines and moans are audible and you can't contain them, "Right there.. right.. there."

Fyodor smirks at your words and noises, "Right here, Малышка?" He hits one spot in particular over and over again, causing you to squirm underneath him and moan louder, "Mmmhhhmm," You let out.

"I want you to get really close for me, okay, doll?" You nod your head at his words. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach grows stronger the faster he moves, the closer you get. You feel your release getting closer and closer. His pace quickens, your audible whimpers escaping your mouth fill the room, Fyodor's groans are like music to your ears.

"I'm getting close, Малышка," His tone is very breathy and somewhat shaky. Both of your moans spill out of your mouths, he finally comes to his release as you do too. Coming all over his cock as he quickly pulls out of you and letting it all out onto your back.

Dazai walks over to where Fyodor is behind you. Fyodor moves out of the way and goes to where Dazai was before, Dazai wastes no time sliding his cock into your already-used cunt. Thrusting in a slow motion, as he continuously teases you.

"Such a little pretty slut, you love being used like the little toy you are, don't you?" Fyodor lifts your head up by grabbing you by the chin forcing eye contact with him. Looking like a pretty toy with tears running down her face to him. He chuckles at the sight before him, satisfied with his and Dazai's work on you.

"You did a pretty good job for us both, darling, keep being a good whore for me," Dazai whispers into your ear, making a chill go down your spine. You squirm around in the ropes that are binding you, he grabs your tied hands getting a grip on you, "You're not going anywhere."

His actions cause you to whine at him and you move a little to get him to move faster. He takes note of your frustration and smirks, "Getting needy now, are we?"

"Stop your teasing, Dazai, and please go faster," He pulls his cock slightly out of your cunt and then slams it back into you. A loud yelp like moan leaves your mouth, "Fuck.." You let out. He continues this same thrusting pattern, causing you to get more frustrated moving around on him more and more. He grabs a hold of your hips with one hand uses his other hand to grab you by the throat and pulls you closer to him.

His hand tightening around your neck, making you slightly lose some oxygen, your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continuously rams into you again and again. Your whimpers and moans become more frequent and louder and he becomes more aggressive with his thrusts.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you, letting us use you like this. You get off to this don't you, fucking whore. God.. you feel so fucking good, darling," Dazai's voice is breathy and his groans and moans in between words are music to your ears.

"Don't break her, Dazai, cause it looks like our doll, is slowly going brain dead," Fyodor speaks up and Dazai looks at him, "That just makes it more fun, she's already a brain dead little whore anyways. Look at her.." He chuckles to himself, feeling confident and satisfied.

"You wanna cum, darling? Hmm?" Dazai teases as you nod your head, "Use your words, darling."

"Yes, please. Let me cum, Dazai," He smirks at your words, "That's a good girl," He picks up his pace, still thrusting roughly again and again. His movement goes faster and faster until you both can feel your release coming closer, "I'm getting close, darling," He grunts and moans between words make you feel closer.

"Fuck.. faster, Dazai, please," You beg, his pace quickens more and a knot forms in your stomachs, you come to your climax, Dazai panting in your ear, your whines becoming calmer as you catch your breath. Dazai pulls out and comes exactly where Fyodor did, all over your back.

Loud breathing fills the room, Fyodor smirking at the both of you. Dazai starts to untie you as Fyodor kisses your forehead, "You did so well, Малышка."

[mylovesstuffs]

FRI(END)S - Kim Taehyung

Genre: Non-idol au, bestfriends to lovers and romance

Pairing: Taehyung × fem!reader

Content: Love, comfort, slightest bit of angst, mutual pining, best friends in love, confession scene, domestic setting, fluff , bestfriend!taehyung, kiss and sweet physical intimacy (non-explicit)

Content Warning: Emotional vulnerability (e.g., fear of rejection, discussing insecurities), mild angst (e.g., tension in the confession scene, fear of losing the friendship), other than these there's no explicit content or heavy themes requiring further warnings

Word count: 2.04k+

A/N: Happiest birthday to our winter bear 🐻 we love you so much! I hope he's doing well in the military. I wonder if Jin and J-Hope will visit Tannies today. Also, I've made Joshua's oneshot for his birthday too so check that out as well.

And you were there on my lonely nights keeping me together, so wouldn't it make sense if I was yours and you could call me your baby? But we say we're just friends...just for now

You were no stranger to this room—the familiar scent of sandalwood mixed with hints of citrus lingered in the air. Taehyung had a thing for candles, and his apartment reflected that in abundance. Still, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here again, tucked under his favorite beige blanket while he strummed absentmindedly humming a tune that had yet to find its lyrics.

Your weekend plans were supposed to include lounging in your sweats, binge-watching some show you’d forgotten the name of. But one text—

“Come over, love.”

—and you were already slipping on your shoes and heading to his place.

It had always been like this with Taehyung. He was your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your favorite constant since 2009, when you first met in your awkward teenage glory. But somewhere along the way, lines had blurred, and your heart had started to ache in ways that best friends’ hearts shouldn’t.

-

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing your eyes had been fixed on the curve of his lips as he sang softly. He stopped playing and tilted his head, those dark brown eyes searching yours.

“I wasn’t staring,” you said defensively,“Your voice was just…nice.”

His brows raised, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nice? That’s all I get? Should I be offended?”

“Fine,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your voice is stupidly amazing. Happy now?”

He chuckled, a sound that wrapped around you like a warm hug. “Much better.”

The evening rolled on like it always did between you two. Comfortable. Easy. He made you tea while you ranted about your coworkers, calling one of them a "walking HR violation," which made him nearly choke on his laughter. It was moments like these—normal, mundane moments—that always made you question how this wasn’t something more.

When he returned with your tea, he sat beside you, closer than necessary but not close enough to feel like too much. His knee bumped yours, and neither of you moved away. He sipped his tea quietly, but his eyes lingered on you as you spoke. You always had his full attention.

“You know,” he began after a moment, his voice soft yet tinged with something you couldn’t quite place, “you really should stop wasting your energy on them. They don’t deserve you.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” he countered, leaning back against the couch but never breaking his gaze. “You’re too good for people like that. Too good for a lot of things, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching in amusement. “Careful, Tae. People might think you actually like me or something.”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, his expression softened, his smile faltering just so slightly, and the air between you shifted. “What if I do?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the weight in his tone and not processing what he had just said. “Huh?”

“What if I do?” he repeated, his voice steadier this time but still so tender, “Like you. What if I’ve liked you all along?”

You stared at him, the tea in your hands growing colder by the second as you tried to process his words. “Tae…”

“Why do you always show up when I call?” he followed up to maybe urge you to think, there's no teasing edge to his voice.

“Now, what kind of question is that? You’re my best friend, Tae...Of course, I’m going to show up.”

He set his mug down with a sigh. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sweater—a tell you’d learned meant he was nervous and slightly frustrated. “That’s the thing,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re always here. And I’m always calling you because I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair as if searching for the right words, “I don’t think I want to just be your best friend anymore.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard him right again—questioning your hearing ability, “What?”

“You don’t have to say anything,” his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tea. “I just… I need you to know. You’ve always been there for me, even when no one else was. And I can’t keep pretending that this—us—feels like just friendship.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. You wanted to say something, to tell him you felt the same, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you.

“I know it’s scary,” he continued, his hand lingering near your face before he pulled it back, resting it on his knee. “And I know it could change everything. But doesn’t it make sense? After all these years, after everything… doesn’t it make sense for us to be more?”

You want to tell him that it does make sense, it always has but nothing comes out of your mouth.

After you don't say anything at all, he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything—”

“No,” this time you voiced out interrupting him, now placing your mug down too and leaning closer. “Say it again.”

Shocked, his eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I don’t think I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

Then the room fell silent, the weight of his final confession settling like a soft, undeniable truth in the air. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in the quiet room. His words replayed in your mind, intertwining with memories of the past—every stolen glance, every touch that seemed to hold a deeper meaning, every late-night conversation that left you wondering what if. You thought of those moments when the lines between friendship and something more blurred so effortlessly, leaving you breathless and confused. Now, with his words hanging between you, it all made sense—every laugh, every comfort he offered on your loneliest days, every unspoken feeling tucked into the corners of your shared history. And suddenly, the weight of it wasn’t heavy at all. It felt like coming home.

“Tae,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly, concern etched across his face.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you said, letting out a watery laugh. “I’ve felt the same way, but I was too scared to say anything.”

He stared at you, his lips parting slightly as if trying to process your words. Then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together from breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking slightly.

“Because I was afraid that my feelings won't be reciprocated, you'll drift away,” you admitted, your hands clutching the back of his sweater. “I didn't want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Not in this lifetime, love.”

Love.

His gaze flicked to your lips, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, with a soft, “Can I?” he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was everything you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for.

It was warm and gentle, like a promise whispered in the quiet of dawn—a promise that neither of you had spoken aloud, but both had been carrying in your hearts for years. His hands cradled your cheeks with a tenderness that made your chest ache, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your skin to reassure himself that this moment was real. He held you close, but not too tight, as if giving you room to pull away if you wanted. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your heart racing yet somehow feeling entirely at peace. Your fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the soft, messy strands. The texture of it under your fingertips, the subtle way he shivered at your touch, sent warmth coursing through you.

You tugged him closer, closing the last fragile inches between you until there was no space left, no room for doubt or hesitation. His lips moved against yours slowly, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to memorize the shape of you. Every touch felt deliberate, every movement careful, pouring years of unspoken feelings into this one kiss.

It was vulnerable not desperate. His breath mingled with yours, shaky and uneven, but it made you feel grounded, like you belonged right there in his arms. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the quiet hum of his presence, the soft brush of his lips, and the steady thrum of your heartbeat that seemed to echo his own.

When he finally pulled back, just an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was ragged, his gaze still heavy-lidded and vulnerable. But the way he looked at you—made you feel like the most loved person in the world.

“So,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips, “does this mean we’re putting the end in friends?”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah, but it made you laugh,” he said, grinning.

-

Later that night, after he’d handed you a bouquet of flowers he’d somehow hidden in his kitchen, because of course, the hopeless romantic that he was—you found yourself back on his couch. His arm was draped lazily over your shoulders, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body pressing into yours.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting golden hues across his sharp features. His thumb traced absentminded circles over your shoulder, sending gentle sparks up your spine. You tilted your head to glance at him, and the smile on his lips was crooked, almost shy and then his boxy smile, but his eyes told a different story, a gaze so deep and intent that it left you breathless.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly, though your own eyes lingered far longer than than him.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, his voice low and warm, tinged with that deep timbre that always seemed to melt you.

You felt your cheeks heat under the weight of his gaze, and before you could respond, he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours in a touch so soft it almost wasn’t there. His free hand moved to your knee, his fingers resting lightly but firmly, like he was testing the waters.

“Taehyung,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a secret you weren’t sure you were supposed to say.

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling against your skin as he shifted just a little closer. “Hmm?”

“I can hear your heart racing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, it’s racing,” he admitted, his smile widening just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But so is yours.”

His words hung in the air, a quiet challenge wrapped in sweetness, and without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding, and as you closed your eyes, his lips pressed a feather-light kiss to your hairline.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice dripping with a teasing undertone, “I think I’m going to keep hiding flowers around the house. Just so I have an excuse to see that look on your face again.”

You laughed, your voice muffled against his shirt, and he tightened his hold on you, “that's ridiculous.”

“Is it? I think you'll love it every time,” he countered, grinning as his hand slid to gently tilt your chin up, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t deny it. How could you, when being there, wrapped in his arms, felt like the most natural thing in the world?

Friends don't say words that make friends feel like more than just friends, just for now...now I'm over pretending, so let's put the end in friends ~ FRI(END)S

[solar4seekstron]

Before and So Forth Chapter Four: Starscream and Soundwave

Transformers One!Starscream/Soundwave x Cybertronian!GN!Reader(Bit of Megatronus and Sentinel x Reader

Solars Indie Series

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight

Introduction Indie Series

Content: 16+

TW/Tags: mild cussing, training sessions, Sentinel has a bad mindset, Starscream trying to make moves, fails of course, Soundwave is actually trying to keep things appropriate….in his own way at least through training of course, reader is done with sentinels shit

(Like last time no smut but there is angst in this one. I wrote the fight scenes the best I can hopefully it isn’t too confusing)

The next morning. After your small visit with Megatronus the night before. To stay you might soon gain eye bags if this keeps up would be an understatement.

You made your way into the training tower before a meeting with Soundwaves team about the next possible battle.

Taking place later tonight as he always kept these sort of meetings more organized more then Starscream would. Shockwave alongside the same as Soundwave.

As you past by many halls you descided to pass the lunch room. Making your way to your usual training room. Luckily Starscream was in a different meeting at the moments.

And so you got to work with your training. It’s time you continue by yourself now. You pulled out your swords as you looked at your reflection on them.

The scar still as visible as it will be…….so forth….You’re so tired….

You began doing some spinning moves. Your movements fluid and fast. Almost as if gravity was nothing showing your complete controle. Some moves include spinning your swords and you moved yourself.

Tossing your swords mid air as make a finishing blow on a dummy and catching your swords with perfection. Well almost in your opinion. You even stared to think about what Megatronus told you last night before departing as ou still kept your focus.

-Flashback-

“I’m afraid our courtship will have to pause for tomorrow sweetspark. I and a few of the other primes will be patrolling on the surface all day due to the other seekers coming from their shift and telling of Quintissons activity.”

He spoke to you in his room.

”So I wont be able to see you tomorrow?” You gently held his larger cervo as you looked up at him.

“Yes…Will you be alright while I’m away?” He looked down at you as he kneeled down. His optics soft towards you. You nodded and softly sighed as you pulled his cervo a bit closer to you. “I shall wait and I’ll be fine Megatronus…”

You gave him an encouraging nod as you sighed and looked out the window. “I shall take you out like last time.” And so he did.

-End Of Flashback-

As you conintue, many hours having gone by and is already past noon. You don’t hear the doors openeing over your grunts as you make one large finishing move and land on your knee and pede. (I was watching Star Wars while writing this lol).

Once you stood up. Noticing your wrist hurting a little. You must’ve pulled something well making a certain move. You let out a sigh as you close your optics. But at the corner of your optic you thought you saw something. And so when you glanced behind you.

Seeing Soundwave standing with his cervos behind his bac…Uh oh. That isnt good.

You also took note he didn’t have any cassettes in his chest as he usually does. You’d then put your swords back into your sword handles on each side of your hip as you faced him as you then spoke.

“Soundwave. What brings you here sir?”

He stays still for a moment before speaking as he walked closer to you. Now his frame a little closer to yours as he looked down at you. “Have you eaten. Y/N?”

Crap-

“Of course Soundwave. Have you?” You lied through your teeth. Hoping he doesn’t use his waves to sense that you’re lying. Luckily he doesn’t seem to try using it as he lifts his head and looked around.

“I have. I and the Cassettes have finished our meals and they’re currently helping Shockwave with his experients for a stronger weapon as per usual.”

His cervos left from behind his back to rest on his sides as he looked back down at you. You just nod and bow your head. “I have been training for hours. I should go for some lunch after our meeting in an hour?”

You past him about to leave until his cervo grabbed your arm. Making you stop as you looked at him. “Before our meeting….How a bit of training?”

His helm tilting a bit as he glanced at you under his visors. You only nod as you glanced at him as well.

———————————————————————————

You then put your swords down before returning to your spot. Placing your pede back as he does the same. You’d then put your guard up, well more. As he then soon attacked. Laying in the first punch against you.

Causing you to move your upper body back to dodge the attack. Then in a fast movement with his cervo still close to you. You grabbed his arm with both cervos as your chest was close to his cervo for a second. You’d then turn.

His frame behind yours but your arms moving along as his arm was still in the same place for a whole second.

Then pushing his arm against your shoulder, you lifted him up using your body force as he’s lifted into the air.

But he was stronger. Being quick to move midair. Moving his legs forward to land on the floor before him as his arm turned (I mean they are robots.) the cervo grabbing an arm as his other cervo comes and grabs your other arm.

He pulls you every close by your arms, your frame fully against his as your legs past his hips for a moment.

He then roughly pushes you into the floor. Creating a very heavy pressure into and against your back strut. Only for your legs to soon both kick him up over you making him fall to his back.

You were fast to use your strength to lift your upper body up by kicking against the floor. Soon standing on your cervos.

You leg then going down fast to kick him down deeper into the floor. But he too was fast you turn and roll to his stomach as use his arms to support him. Even faster on his knee and grabbed your leg. Pulling you closer and once your close he punches your stomach down. Causing you to groan.

He’d then grab at the top of your chest plate as he soon is on his pedes and lifted you up. His cervo only letting go for a moment as his kicked you further back. Although you fell on your bac flying back a bit, you’d soon end up pushing back so you’re on your cervos and back on your pedes.

Facing Soundwave as he ran at you with his movements show determination. You’d soon grab his wrists. Lifting your leg showing your flexibility.

Your pede kicking him in the chin. Whe he was back for a moment. you grabbed his shoulders and hit your helm against his as he opened his mouth mask. He groaned as he showed a bit of a angry expression just by his intake and dermas.

You’d then throw a few punches and blows against his frame even as he tried to block a few. You both were going to be here for a good while.

You both continued for a good while. A Long while. You took note he avoided your face as you kept going toawrds his waits and shoulders. Both of you putting in pretty good hits into eachother. You both will defiently be sore in the morning.

The other seekers are either at home until the meeting or the others are already in a meeting with either Shockwave or Starscream.

You both continued until Rumble and Frenzy came in. Speaking as they walk in on you two still training.

He was able to pin you down against him. His back against the floor as he laid with his legs around your waist. His arm over your neck keeps you locked against him as your legs squirmed around to try to get away.

His other arm around your toros above keeps your arms stuck to your side. You struggled as you tried to break free from his grasp. You try your best to get out.

But your were so out of stamina and against your better judgement. “I yield.”

Soundwave then lets you go. Rumble and Frenzy standing there by the door. frenzy with his cervo on his hip and Rumble sighing as they waited.

You were able to get up without pressing against him. He soon sits up and looks at the two minicons. “Time.”

”Just 20 minutes until the next meeting Soundwave.” Rumble said as he stays in one spot. Frenzy went to your swords to look at them. You’d hold the side of your waist as you stood up. Soundwave standing up as well as his cervo gently held his shoulder.

He then looked at you as he spoke. His mouth mask closed once more.

“Now we will commence with our meeting for the day. Will you be able to keep posture for another hour?”

He gestured to you as Rumble gently pulled Frenzy from your swords and held frenzys hand as the two looked at you bot.

You gave him a nod still standing straighter. “I’ll be fine Soundwave.” He then nodded and started walking to the door. Now closer to Frenzy and Rumble as they both looked up at him. “See you in 10.”

He walks out as the two waved to you as they both left as well. You waving back saying your good byes for now. As you stand there, you looked down. Training with him was…certainly interesting. You can admit that at least. As you thought more and more. He was…a bit more gentle with you than the last time you fought him even before.

Something Starscream did just yesterday….You shake your head. You cant be thinking of these things with the two. You are being courted by one of the Primes.

One of the most highest honors someone could ever have. You cant let old feelings start rushing out.

You walked to your swords. Picking them up and lookin at your reflection in them once more as you narrowed your optics. You have a new duty with your work.

You cant be waiting for anyone else but the one you have chosen…….chosen first who is Megatronus…Right?

——————————————————————————-

As you made your way to the meeting room in the higher levels of the building. Parts of your body was a bit in pain. But not distracting enough for you to speak and walk as you past a few guards who are leaving from the latest meeting that ended.

As you made it to the room Soundwave was already there.

He was getting a presentation ready for the meeting with the help of Laserbeak, Rumble, and Frenzy. Ravage was already in Soundwaves chair waiting as her pas rested on the table.

You’d then took a seat close to Soundwaves by just a couple seats. Something gestured by Ravage when she noticed you come in.

As you sat down. Slowly until the minutes got closer to the meeting more and more guards came in. Eventually Starscream came in and took a seat next to you.

Sitting closer to where ravage was as he had his usual smirk on his dermas.

As you both sat down you noticed by the corner of your eye that Starscream was glancing down at you as he rested one cervo on the table. And the other was on his thigh.

The other being the one closest to you. And just like that…The meeting has started.

As Soundwave spoke and sat in his chair with ravage on his lap like a kitten. Everyone listened with purpose. Giving him their full attention. You included as he goes over his plan for a possible next battle to fight the Quintessons.

Both of your cervos on your lap as your optics stared at Soundwave. His helm turning every now and then as he spoke.

Eventualy the meeting soon lasts over an hour. You can hear Starscream silently make a sound close to a huff as he looked over some data pads he had in front of him. His red optics narrowed as he had a frown on his dermas.

You you continue to look at Soundwave. You’d then feel a cervo on top of your cervo, it being a bit larger then yours. When you glanced down. Not moving your helm much. You soon realized it’s Starscreams. When you looked at him he was staring down at you. A little smirk at the corner at his lips as he then looked back down at the data pad.

You’d just look back at Soundwave. Not knowing that he noticed the moment.

Starscreams cervo stays there for a good amount of time. Gently squeezing every now and then..Is this is way of flirting???

It stays like this for a good while until it’s been almost 2 hours. The meeting was finally over. Everyone making a vote on weapons and such as so forth. From there everyone stands up. You included. You could hear a faint huff as Starscream was fast to move his cervo from yours as he looked at a few other data pads. You got up and walked out.

Only now realizing you haven’t eaten lunch.

You’d continue you path to the lunch room as the rest went home and other guarded the tower. You’d make it to the room and grab some lunch. That’s when Starscream comes in. He’d walk in and sit next to you as you ate some energon.

Being quiet for a moment before speaking.

“You know. I would appreciate it you were to return my affections…..Sweetspark…”

You side eye him as you ate your energon before speaking. “Thought you said to wait…right?” Starscream scoffed.

”Doesn’t mean I cant show you my affections sweetspark.” His digits gently holding your chin to make you look at him.

“Starscream-“

”I could care less of what Soundwave said. I make choices based off my Own. Understood?” You have stood up as you stared down at Starscream. You’d then start taking steps to the door until Starscream stood up grabbing your cervo. “You really wish to try this dance….Y/N?”

His words were a bit sinister. “Yes.”

You pulled your cervo away and face him. “Focus on being a superior and I’ll go do my job.” You soon walk away, he just watches you as you opened the door and then closed it being you. Wouldn’t be any better if you were to slam the door.

———————————————————————————

You continue to walk in the halls. Making your way to the front doors being done today. But as soon as you got past one of the doors to a cleaning closet. Frenzy has pulled you in….He a strong bot.

He’d then give you a data pad. “Soundwave said to meet him in the meeting room.” He then runs off with his little legs.

You’d sigh and make your way to the meeting room. From there as ou walked into the room. Sentinel was in there with him. The two seemed to be speaking to each other about the primes and such. When Soundwave noticed you were there. He nodded to Sentinel. Him doing the same as Soundwave walks past you.

You’d walk closer as Sentinel start down at Soundwaves spot. “YN, please. Sit.”

And so you do. When you first saw him you immediately remembered yesterday. When he pulled you into a kiss before Zeta opened his door….

What is he up to?

”I’m sure you’ve been wondering about yesterday and the meaning of me giving you that……Special kiss? Well you see my dear.” For a moment fore you just gave him a blank expression until his cervo held your chin as he just stared down at you.

”I believe it’s time Zeta and the other primes shouldn’t be so calm to believe that they’re superior to descide who thay may take as a Conjunx….” His helm leaning closer to yours as he spoke once more in a whisper.

“Soundly you agree with your special partner….say…Megatronus?..”

Your optics widened. “How.” Your voice was low and is more in a whisper.

”You two aren’t exactly as sneaky as you both like to believe to be. He said in his casual tone with a grin on his smile. Leaning back a sits straight on the chair. Both of his arms on the arms of the chair. His helm only barely turned looking towards you as only his optics look toawrds you.

”You aren’t the only one being used.” You head tilted up for only a moment.

”Zeta. The big man himself.” His cervos then gestured to himself as he grinned. “Trying to court me of all bots.” He chuckled. But that smile soon gone as he looked down.

”That kiss is to teach him a lession. Good thing I timed that perfectly…At first I thought why not you know. Cause well- why not?” He spoke as he then stood up and walked slowly to behind your chair. “But when I found out that giant Brute was keeping a special little bot. You. Courting you and all. Oh boy…did that open my eyes.”

He sets his cervos on your shoulders as you glanced behind you a bit.

”Though I wont lie. I can see why he’s so intrigued by you…” He’d then lean his held down next to you. Your optics side eyeing you as he spoke once more. In a whisper again.

”Tell me. Do you enjoy being used?”

You tried to find the words. Not sure what you can say right or what will be wrong. So..you only looked down as the table as his stays there.

Your intake opening a little bit before closing a few times. Sentinels optics staring down at you. Going from looking at your dermas to back to your optics. You didn’t look at him.

He had a frown on his dermas as he stands straight again. “After the War. We will handle this…and.” He had grabbed your cervos. Gently pulling you up to stand as he’s now in front of you.

“We shall no longer be used for such power. If you help me against the primes. I can promise you a better life. By my side.” His cervos now on your waist. He smiled down at you as you placed your cervos on his arms as you felt his chest against his.

”Sentinel-”

“Just give it some time. My door is always open once you accept my offer.”

Those last words he said with a bit more purpose. His cervo is then at your chin. His digits gently holding it. “I shall be waiting so patiently for you…Sweetspark.” You’d just stare at him. Your face unsure as he stared down with blue optics.

One of his cervos then grabbing yours and kissed the back of your cervo. His optics never leaving yours.

He’d then let out a small chuckle and finally let you go. “Just remember which Sid you are one Sweetspark. Because I’m not a bot.” He leaned close. “Who gives second chances…” You both stared at each other. Both expressionless as your optics stare narrowed. “…You’re dismissed.”

Oh man this one made me nervous but I think I was able to nail it with writing for Soundwave, Starscream, and a bit of Sentinel. Don’t worry Megatronus will be back for the next chapter. And Shockwave will have a bit more of a spotlight for the intertest with the reader. The reader is really going through it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I’ll see you all in the next chapter!

[sockeye-station]

Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?

YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!

CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE

OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!

so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.

what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.

what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.

"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"

yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.

tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.

The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.

at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?

That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.

The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.

Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.

Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!

[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.

she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.

even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.

that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.

as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.

[bahrtofane]

first off , CONGRATS ON 300 !!! 💘 sososo deserved I adore ur writing! So for the event i literally BEG of you , dialogue 7 with Jude enemies to lovers trope I love these scenes BADDD 😭😭 also, feel free to disregard this if your swamped with other requests/js don’t want to do it !! congrats again <3

Thank you so much for the kind words !! reading them makes me so so sooo happy u have no idea. I hope you enjoy ! 

Word count - 481

Watch it - jude being the biggest instigator 

“Jude, get out of my face,” you scowl. 

Jude has figured out that among other things when he gets all up in your face you get annoyed. And today he's really really pushing it. Face inches away from yours as you lean against one hand, the other scrolling through your socials.

“No.” is all he says, lips in a thin line while he scans your face. 

You don't know why he does it in full honesty. For someone who claims he can't stand your presence as much as him he sure is around you a lot. 

You run in similar circles and you end up seeing him now and again. He doesn't like you, you don't like him. You said he was stuck up and image obsessed and he called you bird brained with no sense of critical thinking. Whatever. 

“Jude i'm not asking you again to move.” you look up at him. The words die in your throat when you get face to face with his gaze, just shy of your own. Your eyes can't help but trail down to his lips, have they always been so full and kissable? Uh oh. 

The corners of his lips break into a smile from where he's leaning across the table . 

"Ooohh you wanna kiss me sooo bad." he teases, breath just fanning your lips. Smells like spearmint gum. The kind you always see in his pockets. He was chewing some the first night you met him. Back when you could've been anyone to judge instead of someone he pesters. 

You shrug, “maybe if i lost my mind?” your brows furrow. Anyone with a right mind would want to kiss Jude. you know this. And he seems to as well. 

“But it's in your mind.” he challenges.

Fuck it. 

“If you're gonna do it just hurry up and-”

He nudges just a hair forward, slotting your lips together. He tastes like gum, and you half expect him to still be chewing some, but no. Your lips part with a soft pop and you look back at him with eyes pulsing. 

“Better?” he teases.

“Get over yourself,” you nudge him away from you, grabbing your things and ignoring his calls for you to come back. He's gonna have to try harder than that. 

[cutiecusp]

I wrote something today. Probably won't release the full thing, as its not my usual style, but I wanted to explore the option of a different situation for reader. So I will show you my favourite part.

Tw. Suicide attempt. Dark! Ghost. (More like terrifying some sense into reader) slightly Price relationship undertone. If PTSD and attempts trigger you, please do not read. MDNI.

Price flinched at your words, and his grip on you loosened slightly. He knew you were referencing the time you had been injured on a mission before, and he had failed to protect you from harm.

"This is different, alright?" he said, his voice strained. "We're not on a mission. This is about your well-being. And I swear, I won't let anything bad happen to you. Not this time."

You pull away from him, making your way back to the ledge.

Price's eyes widened in horror as he realized what you were doing.

"No, no, no. Stop!" he exclaimed, surging forward to grab you.

Gaz and Soap also moved swiftly, trying to reach you before you got too close to the edge.

It was Ghost who caught you, letting you fall over the edge, your body holding on to his arm.

"There! Feel good now?" He asks darkly.

Price, Soap, and Gaz watched in horror as Ghost held you over the edge. Fear and disbelief etched on their faces.

"What the hell are you doing, Ghost?!" Price yelled, his voice filled with anger and panic.

Your eyes lock with Ghosts. He understood that dark place.

"Want me to let go?"

Price's heart thundered in his chest as he heard Ghost's question. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he lunged forward.

"No! Damn it, don't you dare, Ghost!" he shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

"Look at the man behind me, Bunny. Your Captain. Still fighting for your life." He urges.

Your eyes flicker towards Price, and a pang of guilt and shame washed over you as you saw the fear and desperation in his eyes. His body was coiled tight, as if ready to throw himself forward and grab you. Gaz and Soap looked just as terrified, their hands clenching and unclenching in helplessness.

"You want me to drop you, I will. But you look at his face when you hit the ground. And don't you dare look away."

Your heart ached as you saw the pleading look in Price's eyes. His hands were still outstretched, silently begging you not to give up.

Gaz and Soap were both frozen, watching the unfolding scene with horror and heartbreak.

"I see your demons. I see them like my own." Ghost continues.

Ghost's commanding tone left no room for argument. His words pierced through the chaos in your mind. You knew what he meant. Giving in to your demons, succumbing to your suicidal thoughts, would be like giving them what they wanted. A victory over you.

You nod once.

Price's shoulders sagged in relief as he saw you nod to Ghost's words. His eyes were still fixed on you, his heart hammering in his chest. Gaz and Soap let out shaky breaths, their fear slowly giving way to hope.

Ghost grabs you by your jacket, pulling you over.

Price let out a shaky exhale as he watched Ghost pull you back over the ledge. Gaz and Soap also breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, all three of them stood frozen, their hearts still racing from the scare.

Price, unable to hold back any longer, strode forward and pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a protective shield.

"Never, ever do that again," he muttered into your hair, his voice shaking with fear and adrenaline. Gaz and Soap stood by, their expressions a mixture of relief and worry.

Meanwhile, Ghost watched the scene with a calm expression, his gaze never leaving you.

You had work ahead of you. He knew that. But he saw the way his Captain came undone at the thought of losing you and knew you'd be alright with him by your side.

.......

A/N this was a little drabble I worked on while I was supposed to be working. I'm not qualified enough to talk on PTSD. So I stay away from this and write fluffy, cute social media AUs. But something about Ghost stepping in and giving us a reality check, and Price desperate to save you had me thinking. Thank you for reading.

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