#I’m a wee bit lost lmao

[lcandothisallday]

WHAT just happened

?? are you referring to the auston hat trick?

[sseulforgii]

see you very soon

Kim Minjeong x Yu Jimin x Reader

a/n: a bit tipsy and decided to word vomit a prompt from my friend. not proofread, i just ducking yapped.

Minjeong giggled at your pouty request. You were on a video call with her while you were drunk at a friend’s house. You just wanted to see her so bad. It’s been a week since you’ve seen your sunshine personified and you wanted nothing but to curl up in her arms and breathe in her scent. Just thinking about it gives you comfort. She was your best friend after all.

Best friend… A friend… Just her friend…

But god, you were so fucking in love with her.

You and Minjeong have known each other since high school, when you accidentally sent a rouge volleyball straight to her head. She was a year older than you and you were in gym class terrorized by your teacher to do a serve. Minjeong just finished putting up a banner and is about to go out of the gym when the ball swooshed from across the room straight to the back of her head. You rushed to her immediately to apologize and when she looked at you with that pout you can’t help the heat flush on your cheeks and chuckled. The rest, as they say, is history.

You didn’t think about any of it at first. You’re just happy that you found a new friend, a study buddy, and a fellow book nerd. That summer of her senior year, It was after that peculiar night where you both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning that you suddenly caught yourself smiling and you know you’re in trouble.

You felt sick when you realized how wild the stupid butterflies were fluttering in your tummy.

No no no. This can’t be happening. Not her. Not Minjeong. You can’t be all flustered around her since you always have talk to her. Especially not when she’s off to college soon. That distance will make you yearn more. It’s sick. But you gotta at least make it through her senior year, right?

You almost folded a lot of times. As always, Minjeong is the sweetest. She even helped you on your subjects for your junior year. But you also learned that you won’t be getting to spend the whole year with her because of her early acceptance to the uni she’s been dreaming of. You were happy for her, but also sad and nervous because your feelings have been eating your heart out.

A week. That’s how long she was away from you from her uni welcome week. She was supposed to go back home a bit before early acceptance classes starts and you were contemplating on taking her out for a date and tell her how you feel.

You video called her while in a senior party and asked felt so giddy to ask her out. You’re a bit tipsy and you know your courage is up the roof. So you pouted asking her out on a date. Minjeong giggled and you felt your heart soar. You grinned at her and was about to say something when you saw someone peek over the video.

You stopped dead and felt a cold feeling creep up on your veins. Minjeong smiled, a smile so new to your eyes albeit a little shy. With a crinkle in her eyes she sheepishly introduced you to Jimin. And you knew then that you already lost the fight without even going to war.

You don’t really hear her explaining how they met and all that she said. All you heard is “I’m so excited for you to meet each other! See you very soon okay?”

You nodded slightly, but in your mind you knew that you won’t have the strength to. You whispered, “see you very soon.”

Inspired by Laufey’s Promise

a/n: can’t fucking believe they made me write this in the corner while we’re drinking 😭 sorry for the mistakes lmao. hope you’re happy, bestie. mwa.

[spxllcxstxr]

Protected • R.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi!! Can I request a angst/fluff with robb stark & the prompt: I’m going to protect you. Thank you so much :))) — anon

Summary: The aftermath of Ned Stark’s death

Warnings: canon character death sprinkled with a wee bit of canon divergence?, grieving, reader wears a dress and is referred to as wife (no pronouns used)

Word Count: 769 (i'm so sorry for the short length lmao)

A.N: first time writing Robb! i actually really like this ngl, hope you enjoy!

•

“That boy is going to ruin his sword.” Lady Catelyn mutters from beside you, her eyes trained on her eldest son on the edge of the tree line. Her hands fidget with the end of her braid.

Your own eyes gaze out to see your betrothed, hacking away at a tree stump, his grunts echoing throughout the silent camp.

News of Ned Stark’s horrid death spread through the camp quickly only hours prior, and the men had hid in their tents to mourn the Lord of Winterfell. It was a gloomy day, appropriately reflecting the mood of the solemn North. The clouds were heavy and grey, the air still smelling of the earlier rain.

Sighing, you watch Robb hit anything within arms reach. His moves are erratic, it's obvious even from this distance. Your teeth tease your bottom lip uneasily.

“I should go to him…” Lady Catelyn sighs, her lips tilted down into a frown.

Your hand rests on her shoulder, stopping the older woman from moving. “My Lady, you just lost your husband…go grieve. I will talk to Robb.”

Lady Catelyn nods, her eyes vacant as she turns towards her own tent. You watch her leave, making sure she gets to her destination safely before trudging through the mud to your betrothed.

The mud clings to your nice shoes, and at this point you don’t bother hiking your skirts up to avoid the filth below you. Your eyes stay trained on Robb, his forceful movement never ceasing.

A few feet away from him, you hear his grunts of anguish and frustration, his tunic dotted with sweat. You let his take one more swing at the rotting stump before you cough to gain his attention.

“Robb, I think that is enough…”

Robb freezes before slowly turning to face you. His auburn curls untamed and his blue eyes burning brighter with rage. You’ve never seen him like this at all, not when he first heard his father was taken prisoner in King’s Landing, nor when he discovered that someone had sent assassins to kill Bran. Your eyes widen at the state of your betrothed, fidgeting in place. He pants heavily as he looks at you.

“I’ll kill them! I swear to every god out there, I will kill the Lannisters for what they have done!” Robb seethes, his face red with anger. “It is only what those murderous pricks deserve.”

He flings his sword down, taking deep ragged breaths. You don’t flinch at his uncharacteristic anger, instead you inch closer to your betrothed.

All at once, as if the adrenaline drains out of him, Robb falls to his knees, his blue eyes trained on the mud beneath your feet as they glimmer with tears.

You drop down with him, taking his head in your hands, leaning your forehead against your lover’s.

“Oh darling…” You whisper, watching the grief take over his features. Your heart breaks seeing him so vulnerable.

“My father is dead,” He sobs, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “They have to pay for what they have done.”

“They will, Robb, they will suffer for their cruelty towards the North," You tell him softly, lifting your head to place a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Robb glances up as well, his tears subsiding. “And I will protect you, my dearest. No Lannister will ever harm you,” There is a quick burst of fire behind those usually cool eyes. “they would not dare.”

“Robb—“ Your fingertips brush over his stubble.

“They have taken my sisters hostage and they have killed my father, but they will not take my wife from me.”

Heat creeps up your neck at his passionate words. You and Robb had not yet been wed but hearing his call you his wife causes you to shiver.

“I swear it to you, my love,” Robb continues, taking your hands in his rough hands, squeezing them tightly between your two closely crouched bodies. “They will not touch you.”

“I believe you, darling, I do.” You reply lightly, squeezing back, attempting to convey how much trust and love you’re filled with for him.

The sky seems to lighten, clouds parting ever so slightly to let the sun peek through enough to shine down on your camp. The moist air of the Riverlands clings onto your skin as the few rays of sun beats down on your exposed skin making your position unbearable.

Wordlessly, you and Robb rise, chins up despite the situation that just occurred. Your hands hold onto his arm as the two of you, side by side, walk back into the center of camp, ready for war.

•

[obsessedelusional]

religious trauma but make it gay

masterlist

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!Reader

summary ✦ Bella was your childhood best friend. The one person you felt like you could tell anything. So you do exactly that, coming out to them when you two were still young. Only for Bella to push you away. What happens when they show up at your work several years later?

word count ✦ 3,500ish

authors note ✦ I’m so in love with Bella Ramsey and there’s barely nothing out there. So I took it upon myself lmao hope y’all enjoy!!! Also I’ve never written for a real person so I hope this ok request for Bella open bc I’m a simp rn

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

several years ago

“I think I’m gay.” You admit to your childhood best friend, Bella. The two of you sat in the school yard, parked under a tree.

“What?” She asks, forcing you to repeat the statement you’ve been trying to find the courage to say for months now.

“I think I like girls.” You further explain.

“That’s a sin. You can’t like girls.” Bella spits, bringing tears to you eyes.

“Bella-“ You say their name, letting the tears fall as they interrupt you.

“It’s a sickness, you can get help. My pastor will know exactly what to do.” She says, entirely seriously. Taking your hands in theirs, you quickly push them way. You can’t believe what your hearing.

“I don’t need help. I needed my friend to be there for me.” You stand up from the floor, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“I don’t think-“ Bella hesitates.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” Her words tremble like their unsure as they come out.

“I knew you were religious but this takes it to a whole another level.” You croak before leaving Bella sat alone under that tree. Part of you thought they’d come back, apologize to you after some time passed. That never happened, ten years of friendship over because of you opened your mouth about your sexuality. At the time you regretted saying anything at all, wishing you had just kept it bottled up inside.

The worst part was when their mother called a couple weeks after the incident basically outing you, offering your mother her pastors number. To your surprise your mom politely declined, she accepted you fully for who you were. It was a bit awkward at first at home but eventually everything went back to normal. That summer you attended your first Pride Parade and felt so seen that the coming school year you came out publicly. Considering the two of you were in the same grade you still saw them around, although never speaking to them again.

After a few years Bella landed her first huge roll in Game of Thrones, leaving your guys hometown behind. You didn’t have to see her face around anymore. Part of you happy for them but sad you couldn’t be in their life to support them. Only to remember they never supported you when you need them most.

present day

It had been several years since you came out, now living your most authentic life. Since then you had a few relationships, nothing too serious. Normally only lasting a few months before breaking up. You had graduated high school, started college shortly after. You got into the college you’d been dreaming of and the major you always imagined yourself as. Your college was a few hours from your home town so you occasionally saw people from there at your part time job. A couple days a week you were a barista at this cute little coffee shop right on the corner of the busiest street.

“What can I get you?” You ask blindly, going through the motions of a transaction.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other side of the counter asks, causing you to look up from the cash register. Looking up you’re greeted by the girl who you hadn’t seen since that depressing day. The day you lost your best friend.

“I can’t believe you work here.” They say, their voice warm.

“Yup.” You say flatly.

“What can I get you?” You ask, trying to quicken this interaction.

“The film I’m working on is filming just down the street for the next few weeks. I’ve been trying to find you for years, you have like no social media.” They admit, completely disregarding your attempt to not make small talk.

“Can I get you something?” You asks again, uninterested in what they have to say.

“Damn I deserve that.” They sigh before muttering off their order and paying. He walks over to the pick up area and you start making their drink. Every time you look up from your work they’re already staring. You can’t help but look too, they’ve changed so much. You’ve seen things about them online and people from your home town loved to talk about the girl who made it big. Always asking, “Didn’t you used to be friends with Bella?”

Once you’re done with their drink, you walk over to where they stand and set their drink down on the counter.

“Y/N wait.” They plead before you can turn your back to them. Against your better judgment you stop, briefly making eye contact. Saying nothing but signaling with your eyes to speak.

“I’m so sorry. I know what I did was shitty. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day since. While I’m still in town I’d like to apologize better like take you out or something so we can talk.” They explain, almost rambling their words.

“I understand if you don’t want to but here’s my phone number. Consider giving me a call or a text or anything, please.” They smile reassuringly pleading with you one last time, passing you a small folded up paper. They leave the coffee shop, drink in hand. You catch your self watching them leave, mind wandering on what you’re gonna do with their number.

Part of you wants to throw it away. An even bigger part of you wants to find out what would happened if you contacted Bella. Maybe their viewpoints have changed, it’s the least you can hope for. Against your better judgement you slip the small piece of paper in your phone case, deciding you’ll worry about it later. The rest of the work day is slow, painfully slow. Nothing to keep your mind distracted from thinking about Bella.

—

“I should be good, if you’re ready to take off.” Your coworker speaks, disrupting your spiraling thoughts.

“Okay,” is all you can say before rushing to clock out. Grabbing your belongings and thanking your coworker before leaving.

Once home you reach for the folded up piece of paper that’s been living in your phone case all day. You hesitate for a few moments before finally mustering up the courage to open it. All that is reads is their phone number, nothing else. You’re not sure how long your sat there staring at the piece of paper but eventually you decide to just shoot them a text.

you: hey it’s y/n

You don’t hear anything back that night. You stay up later then normal stressing about the entire situation. Imagining that it was all some elaborate set up, Bella’s sat up laughing at how stupid you could be to think that they’d want apologize.

The next morning arrives, your alarm goes off bright and early. You have a long day of classes ahead of you. You rush getting ready, picking out the most basic clothes you own. Not it the mood to try, exhausted from the lack of sleep from Bella’s sudden return to your life.

“Girl you good?” A girl you had always been friendly towards in your nine am class asks. You can never remember her name.

“It’s it that obvious?” You let out an exasperated laugh.

“No offense. Your just usually all dolled up and suddenly you look not dolled up. You just look tired.” She laughs.

“Dolled up?” You ask, curiously. For the first time truly noticing the girl who’s always sat near you.

“Yeah you always got them eye lashes and stuff. Not that you don’t look cute today, you always look cute.” They explain poorly. You can’t help but laugh at their way to describe makeup.

“Too tired this morning. Thanks I think?” You smile, she smiles back before the professor walks in and starts class. For a brief moment you forget about the lack of response from Bella. Too busy thinking about the attractive person who low-key just flirted with you. Only for that to be quickly forgotten when your phone vibrates from your pocket. You slyly pull it out laying it flat on your desk, where the professor can’t see. It is Bella, you catch yourself smiling at her name popping up. Stopping yourself immediately from having that type of reaction.

Bella: hey sorry I didn’t respond sooner super late work day only to wake up even earlier to work some more but I have tomorrow off so can we please get together

You decide you’ll respond but make them wait, not nearly as long as you waited. But you’ll stick it to them, make them wait till your out of class. The rest of the period is spent mentally drafting your response. Are you really after all these years ready to meet up with Bella? Maybe.

When class is over you shove all your belongings your bag, rushing to leave so you can send your text. Only to be stopped by that girl from before.

“What class do you have next?” She asks.

“Uhm,” You have to think about it for a moment too distracted by the phone burning a hole in your pocket.

“English in Butcher Hall at one.” You blurt out once you can remember. Normally you either go back to your dorm, grab lunch or study in the library. Today you had planned on going back to your dorm, knowing you weren’t going to be capable of studying.

“Dope. You wanna get lunch or something? I don’t have class till 1 too.” They explain, a smile on their face.

“Oof,” You say aloud, regrettably. The laugh almost as if they’re confused.

“I totally would but I got stuff I have to do before my next class.” You explain, sort of lying. Unsure why your lying just so you can hurriedly respond to Bella.

“That’s fine. Another time maybe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile before walking off, back to your dorm room. They wave goodbye as you leave. When your out of their reach, you pull your phone out and type your message.

you: tomorrow works, I have one class in the morning. I’ll be done around noon. After that is ok

bella: sounds good wanna grab lunch at one?

you: yeah

Bella responds in a short time, sending you the address of a restaurant you never heard of before. You decide not respond anymore, deciding that any talking that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

—

You had woken up early enough to actually get ready today. Or “dolled up” as the girl from your class would say. Thankfully you didn’t have that class with her today, knowing you couldn’t handle that along with all that is already going on.

After class, you walk quickly back to you dorm. Using the hour you have to dress cuter, fixing up your makeup. Mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to be had. You pull up the address Bella gave you and it’s a cute little Italian restaurant. That’s always been your favorite, for long as you can remember. You wonder for a moment if they remember or if it’s just a coincidence. The drive is short, too nervous to listen to music. Letting your inner dialogue fill the silence. You park near the front door, looking down at the clock on your dash and you have a few minutes to spear. You phone goes off and it’s Bella.

bella: I’m here just let the hostess know your here to see me

All of a sudden it all starts to feel real. Your going to be having lunch with Bella after several years of no contact after coming out to them. It’s not too late to back out, you think for a moment. You have too though, you’ve made it this far. It’s a quick walk from your car to the door, you let yourself in. Greeted by a girl at the hostess desk.

“Hello!” The hostess beams.

“Hi I’m here to meet with Bella.” You explain.

“Right this way,” She smiles grabbing a menu and leading you towards the back of the restaurant where it’s more secluded. Pass the view of the back of the hostess head you can see Bella sat, scrolling through their phone. The sight of them biting their nails, puts some of your worries at ease. Knowing that they’re just as nervous makes this a little easier. Bella looks up from their phone, smiling brightly at you when they notice you.

“You still like Italian?” They ask.

“Yeah I do.” You smile because they remembered.

“I’m so glad you actually showed up.” Bella says examining you.

“After what I did I always thought you’d want nothing to do with me forever.” They explain, you quickly notice them fiddling with the table cloth.

“I’m so sorry.” They say now with a bit of sadness to their voice. Your not entirely ready to forget what happened but the sight of them is tempting you to forgive them on the spot.

“You know you haven’t grown much?” You tease as an attempt to lighten the situation.

“What?” They ask confused.

“You’ve always been so short and that hasn’t changed. You’ve cut all your hair off, I like it.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“We’ll when everyone is old and looks old I’ll still look young.” They laugh, you can tell they’re finally beginning to relax.

“Plus in my line of work it’s a plus. I can continue to play younger roles as I age.” They explain. Which leads to you asking them what they’re in town filming for. The conversation begins to flow smoothly, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You two order and wait for the food to come over. When the conversation eventually lulls, Bella’s face is screaming like she has something she wants to say but can’t get it out. You eyes dart to their fingers that anxiously fidget with the utensils in from of them.

“It’s okay,” You reassure them resting your hand on theirs. You feel them relax under your touch.

“I’m gay.” They spit out.

“Really?” You ask.

“Which is why I reacted the way I did when you told me. I’ve always had feelings for… women. I was raised to believe that it was wrong. I struggled internalized homophobia for years only recently coming to terms with my sexuality. I was so scared at the time.” Bella admits, your hand still rests on theirs. They look to you like they’re waiting for a response.

“I forgive you.” You respond.

“I would of done this sooner. Your just not the easiest person to find.”

“It’s fine Bella. Just promise we’ll stay in touch now, okay?”

“I promise.”

—

They did exactly that. For the rest of their time in town, when ever your schedules aligned you two we’re together. Or they would find any excuse to leave set and stop by for a quick visit when you were working. Getting to know each other all over again, you couldn’t help it forming a crush on them. They made you so happy, the most comfortable you felt around someone in forever. You finally got your Bella back.

Only for her to have to leave you after a few weeks. Her film was moving locations so they’d be several hours away. It was only for a month but you were so torn up about it. They had promised as soon as that month was over, they’d be back in your home town and visiting you as much as possible.

It was a bit awkward when that girl form your class kept making the moves on you. One day your finally let them down gently. It was entirely because of the slight chance with Bella you thought you might have.

You finally got your Bella back only to have separate again. This time though, you were friends. That month was spent on face time calls when ever you got the chance. Always waking up to good morning texts and not going to sleep until you two had a chance to talk on the phone. You can’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. Always checking you phone, biggest smile on your lips. All because of Bella.

—

one month later

“I missed you.” Bella says, wrapping you in a hug. Their head resting in your shoulder, breathing in your aroma.

“I missed you, more.” You tease. You feel them laugh in your embrace before pulling away.

“I may have got me an air bnb for a week or so.”

“Really? I thought this was just a weekend kind of thing.” You say, biting your lip trying your best not to smile too hard. Originally you couldn’t help but be upset when Bella flight was delayed, their 10 am arrival turned into 5 pm. You had thought half your time with them was wasted.

“We’ll you were wrong.”

“I’m glad.” You laugh, following them to your car. Helping them load their luggage. Bella pulls up her maps app and types in the location of the air bnb. You drive, listening to Bella talk about everything that had happened in the last month of filming.

“You’re so cute when you talk about your job.” You respond, letting the word cute slip out.

“What do you mean?” They ask.

“You’re cute. Do I really need to elaborate?”

“I guess not.” They smile. The rest of the car ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

Eventually you two arrive at their temporary home for the week or so. You help Bella unload and follow them to the door, watching as they unlock the lock box that has the house key inside. They open the door for you, you walk inside.

“Wow this place is so nice.” You awe at the beauty of the living room.

“You think this is nice? Come look at the back yard.” Bella leads you to the back yard, it’s so beautiful. Plants everywhere and jacuzzi, wishing suddenly you had brought a swim suit.

“Wow.” You say aloud, noticing the large hanging chair. Big enough for multiple people. It hangs over the deck, with the perfect view of the nature behind the house. Without hesitation you climb into the hanging chair, Bella watches you amused. You let out a screech when it move from your weight. Eventually you fall on your back, looking up at the stars. Bella continues to watch you, enjoying the view of you enjoying yourself.

“Are you not going to join me?” You speak up.

“I guess so.” You laugh at their attempt to climb up, their attempt causing it to swing and sends Bella landing closer to you than they had originally intended. When you didn’t pull away, they didn’t either. The two of you, sit in silence staring up at the starry sky. Eventually Bella is the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up on your elbows so you can see them better. They begin speaking, not daring to look at you.

“I said I knew Ialways had feelings for women. Like I always knew I liked women. The truth is I had feelings for you. When you said you were gay, I freaked out because my feelings for you could of become a reality. I think that’s the real reason I pushed you away. I knew I couldn’t be in your life as just a friend but also that I wasn’t ready to be out. I don’t if that makes sense and know I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” Bella finally gains the courage to look at you after their words.

“It’s okay.” You smile, biting you lip. Thinking this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bella asks.

“Not at all. The real question though, are those feelings still there?” You ask, curiously. Your tone a little flirty.

“They’ve always been there. Bumping into you only reignited them. Then you actually said yes to meeting up with me, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” You laugh before closing the space between you two. Letting your lips kiss Bella’s for the first time. It takes them a moment to fully register what’s happening, shortly kissing you back. Their hands reach for your head pulling you in closer. You’re the one to pull away, needing to catch your breath. That only lasts a few moments before they’re the one initiate the second kiss. The two of you spend a few hours on the hanging chair. Kissing, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Only going inside because it began to rain. That night you guys stayed up so late, some time around 3am Bella asked you to be their girlfriend. You said yes.

[verlaines-corner-archive]

NO cause I don’t think you understand. I’m a boyfriend hoodie kinda person and I like wearing clothes that are too big for me, you can’t just say “Muerte would fuck you while you wear his poncho” and expect me to be CALM about it are you insane?? You brought this upon yourself Kal /j

Anyways, getting right down to business, I feel like most of the time when you’re wearing it it’s not with the intention to rile him up, at least not at first. Muerte’s a wolf, they’re territorial creatures, and like you said in your SFW alphabet, he isn’t naturally a jealous lover. Seeing you in his clothes (but ESPECIALLY his poncho) doesn’t make him think “this marks them as mine” it’s more of a knee jerk reaction of affection (or cuteness aggression LMAO), not possession.

He wouldn’t have a huge reaction to seeing you wear it for the first time, just a playful “oh so you’re taking my clothes now?” before curling up with you in bed or on the couch. All innocent until he starts thinking and taking you in at least. The poncho isn’t dirty or anything but he can still very clearly smell himself on it but what really gets him is your smell mingling with his so closely. The only time it’s that closely woven together is when you two are having sex and he basically has a Pavlovian response to it. He doesn’t immediately jump into fucking you but he’s definitely grinding on you as inconspicuously as he can.

It’s a little cute. Pressing his whole face into your shoulder and trying not to be too obvious with what he’s doing but at the same time he’s got a grip on you that’s hard not to notice. Tease him or don’t- you’ll get the same outcome. In this situation, where it’s not on purpose, it’s more of a cuddle-fuck, Muerte wants to be close to you, he’s definitely a lot gentler than usual, kissing you, holding your legs apart, basically not letting you do any of the work, just be good and let him use you, alright?

Afterwards he’s just a wee bit embarrassed about having that kind of response to you just wearing his clothes and DO NOT let him live it down, the motherfucker (lovingly) kinkshames you all the time, he will not be spared. (“Are you going to do laundry or are you just going to steal my clothes all week.” “Oh you would like that wouldn’t you?” “listen-”)

On the other hand, if you’re wearing Muerte’s poncho with the full knowledge of what you’re doing? You’re in for it.

It’s a little funny, if you wear the poncho with nothing on underneath and “hide” further back in the house he already has a clue what’s going on. Muerte can smell you pretty clearly (whether it be because he’s intimately familiar with your scent or you’re just that bad at hiding how aroused you are) and he kinda assumes that he knows what he’s in for, but when he actually finds you he pauses.

You don’t actually sense him until he’s right behind you, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back so he can get a good look at you. He doesn’t know why but the way you’re trying to pretend like you’re not standing here fully naked save for his poncho, which is swallowing you up in the best and worst ways. He likes that you’re wearing it but he wants it off for pretty obvious reasons.

He’s a bit stuck on what to do for a moment, Muerte’s lost in his thoughts and he’s not in any way shy or embarrassed about the way he’s feeling you up through the poncho. (PLEASEE the way he’d have your back against his chest/stomach while he gropes your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers, how he’d be lowkey choking you while he rubs on your clit… god) Squirm and whine all you want, he’s not letting go, nor is he giving in to any attempt to get him to cave in and fuck you against the wall. Nope, he’s gonna pick you apart slowly and that’s that.

He’s def manhandling you, but who’s complaining about that? You certainly aren’t. There’s just a small (very small, minuscule even, he swears) part of him that wants to make you cry and plead for him, and ‘unfortunately’ he’s gonna act on it. One minute you’re on your back, one leg up over Muerte’s shoulder, making you take all of him because despite how you’re crying “too much- s’ too much I can’t-!”he can feel you clench around him. He’s happy to tell you that if it’s ‘too much’ then he’ll just pull out, just to see you practically sob and claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him back to you.

Muerte isn’t above being cruel- he doesn’t do it often to you, he prefers praising you- but it’s so easy to croon over you in mock sympathy as you hiccup and sob when he’s done fucking you on your back. Don’t think he’s done with you though, he’ll give you a quick break (you’re only human after all) but the second you think maybe, just maybe he’s done, he’s pulling you up, putting you on all fours and starting back up again.

This time he’s got one hand (paw?) on your hip with the other on the back of your neck, forcing you to turn your head and look back at him. He’s kind enough to move the hand on your hip up to your chest when your arms give out, bending you at the waist and leaning over you so he can get right in your ear. (“Are you crying because it hurts or are you just ashamed that you like being fucked like this? You can be honest sweet thing, after all it doesn’t matter- I’ll fuck you like this either way.”)

Muerte gets a little lost in the moment, my guy is WHIPPED even if he has an extreme way of showing it. He already says some filthy shit but he is FOUL when he’s got you like this- please don’t feed into it in any way if you can still speak at this point, cause you won’t be leaving anytime soon if you do.

Yes the poncho is on during all of this. That shit stays ON during sex.

The aftercare every time is immaculate. The duality of Muerte is one minute he’s fucking you like he absolutely loathes you then sweet talking and pampering you like you dropped from heaven the next. He’ll carry you wherever you need to go to clean up then lay with you for as long as he can before he has to go. He feels bad for having to go but let’s be real you’re fast asleep the second he’s done cleaning you up.

Head in my hands I’m going to go live in the woods. Hell has a very special place for my horny ass 🕳👩🏽‍🦯

Muerte fucking you in his poncho [thoughts]

 ->Anon I don't even know where to start with this, I am very glad I brought this upon myself hehe. Under the cut due to length.

You’re right first of all, when you do it unintentionally the sex is very soft. It is definitely your smell and his own that get Muerte going and I do think it is a little obvious. From his grip on you, the way his claws dig in slightly, to the way he’s sniffing you, and finally the way his tail starts thumping on the bed/couch slightly [not to mention the fact that Muerte is probably packing so you can feel him against you anyway LMAO].

Muerte will definitely turn you around to face him during this, one paw slipping under his poncho and onto your back while the other hooks your leg around his waist. Manages to kind of curl around you during it too, face having barely left your shoulder/neck, licking and biting gently as he breathes in the scent of you both. The way he fucks you is admittedly a little desperate, going from slow and gentle to fast and rough as he gets closer to cumming, but all things considered it remains soft.

And yeah, there’s definitely embarrassment afterwards. I think the main cause of that is that Muerte prides himself on being in control of his own desires. He is calm and collected almost always, and even though he’s certainly gotten lost in the pleasure of fucking you before he has always thought himself composed enough to not get turned on by something as simple as your scent with his. Do tease him about it, he almost gets flustered when you do and it’s adorable.

Now intentionally? Yeah like you said, you’re absolutely fucking in for it. Wearing his poncho with nothing underneath is a sure fire way to make sure your legs just don’t work for the next few days because Muerte does not hold back. At all. 

Which is a little surprising because once again: pride in remaining composed.

Which I think Muerte actually manages at first. Sure, the moment he finds you you’re pressed between his chest and the wall, but his breathing -- while shallow - is calm, and the way he touches you is strategic almost, going for places he knows will have you squirming and whining in his grasp. He keeps the illusion of being fully in control of himself perfectly at first, though it might be more correct to say that he gets you so focused on what’s going to happen that you don’t actually notice his composure start to break.

The main thing keeping Muerte’s composure from fully snapping is that he wants to see you break first. Have you begging and pleading for him, reduce you to an incoherent tear filled mess. Especially in regards to you actually taking his cock. You cries of “too much” are just so cute to him, though I don’t think he’d threaten to pull out. He praises you, telling you that you’re such a good little mate for him and that he knows you can take him, and then just proceed to shove himself in you all at once. Don’t worry, he’ll give you a minute or two to adjust, placing affection licks and kisses to you face to help you relax before just fucking you silly. 

And yeah, he is definitely a bit mean during it. Sickeningly sweet would be a good way to describe it; praising you but it’s so condescending and almost cold. Though it never really feels like he doesn’t care for you, despite what he’s saying there’s a soft undertone to his voice, even if it’s almost drowned out by mock care.

Now before Muerte puts you in doggy I think he’d make you ride him. You’re exhausted even after one round, legs shaking and head uselessly tilting to the side as you try to gather your thoughts in an even remotely coherent manner, which is exactly why he likes this position. Muerte loves watching your legs threaten to give out as you try to bounce yourself on his lap, and the way he way you cling to his shoulders for support it so cutely pathetic to him, it’s intoxicating. And when you finally collapse on his chest because you can’t possibly keep riding him he calls you his useless little thing before pulling you off him and putting you on your hands and knees.

That ends with him having to hold you to his chest as he fucks you from behind, because your arms and legs are practically jelly at that point, and that’s also when Muerte’s composure fully breaks. He’s growling and snarling above you, drooling as he fucks into you like a wild beast. You can’t even make out what he’s saying anymore, save for faint mutters of “mine”.

And yes!!! The aftercare is fucking amazing. Muerte smothers you in praise and affection before going to clean you up, running you a nice warm bath and washing you because there’s no way you can do it yourself. Makes sure to dry you with the fluffiest towels before carrying you to bed and cuddling up to you. Muerte is admittedly a little worn out himself, so there’s a far chance he’ll be falling asleep with you, and even if he has to leave I could see him shirking his duties just to stay with you. Hehe tail wagging hehe

[upslapmeal]

Rogue

Hey did you know this episode is going to be a bit Bridgerton? Not sure if the trailers ever mentioned it

gotta love an ep that starts with a bit of murder

just realised this is only the second non-RTD ep

I guess a shorter series means fewer eps for other writers :/

Fifteen and Ruby looking excellent!

‘try not to get engaged’ yeah you’d know about that wouldn’t you Doc. don't go giving anyone cocoa

‘does not-a-lord have a name?’ getting the Ken accent out

lmao they’re even doing the Bridgeton thing of playing covers of pop songs

surely going to send the Doctor Who Is A TV Show theorists wild

as well as Susan Twist being ‘just an actor playing several roles’

(RTD you absolute liar)

I haven't really been following the theory other than being vaguely aware of its existence but can you imagine if 'it's the only actor we could get' ended up as the in-universe explanation for her

‘you travel in a shed? why isn’t it cloaked’ get rekt

getting sad Captain Jack vibes

‘my name’s bond. molecular bond’

‘was that a wee smile from the most serious man in history?’ och aye

all the doctors!!!

shalka doctor???

‘come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination’ Ncuti said he wanted to be Wonka or the Doctor!!

Fifteen: we've both lost everyone we've loved. hot.

Doctor bit of advice. your sad comments about losing everyone are slightly undercut by going :DD that's my best friend!! when asked about the person you're with lol

('I lost everyone. everyone I travelled with. ok the last one I just kinda told to go away because I was changing my face but yeah)

you know given that the jukebox is literally the only bit of furniture Fifteen has it would be nice if it was used like……ever

‘we can’t kill it so we’ll send it to a random barren dimension to die a slow isolated death!’ good old Doctor logic

‘tv signals beam out across the stars’ ok I genuinely have only come across the tv theory in passing but 👀

it is…interesting that they’ve gone for a kinda Bridgerton-style casting after last week’s ep…

if the chuldur had been wearing the duchess longer I’d have imagined it was engineered to look like Bridgerton but that’s not the case

Cameca in the distance like oh no not again

‘start wars with anyone who doesn’t look British!’ tbh I think they were managing that without the chuldur

oh no… Emily is going to be one of them isn’t she

that explains her just explaining social rules to Ruby earlier instead of being surprised she was even asking! that struck me as odd but I thought it was just the writing being a bit clunky

RUBY NO!!!

oh Doctor :( jinxed when you made that promise to keep her safe

‘your…birdiness’

wait wait oh no

ruby’s going to be pretending isn’t she

it’s why she’s the only one who still looks human

it'll have been interference from the earrings or something

yesss it was the earrings!

oh Ruby so willing to go :(

Doctor now is not the time for smooching!!!

well. that was a simpler fix than I expected

Fifteen: I’m fine!!!! ((((:

gotta love a big ol' hug

Fun! Silly! What other tv show could have serious thread villains with bird faces talking about cosplaying the world to death. Excellent. (In honesty not as good as the last few eps but enjoyably ridiculous with a decent dollop of heart)

[peachdues]

Hi Peach!

the latest episode of KNY and your recent posts have just made me go and reread TGW - don’t ask me how many times I’ve read it now cause I lost count 🤷🏼‍♀️

I love your take on my emo King so much. Giyuu is quite a deadpan character but you are able to write him having silly/funny moments so well. They don’t feel forced at all. Adding comedy to the endless of list of your amazing writing skills 🩵

And I’m so looking forward to the part II Tanjiro visit scene (poor poor boy) and the Miko chastising Giyuu for having an empty house (she will be chewing him out I can’t wait)

I went back and reread the first TGW teaser you ever posted and I hope you don’t mind me asking but was reader always going to be a Shrine Maiden or did that idea come later as the fic came together?

Now I need to be so honest with you - Peach ‘IT TAKES TWO’ killed me in the best horny way possible, I am quite partial to a wee bit of SaneGiyu so seeing them in a threesome fic the scream I scrumpt 😭 mean corruption kink Giyuu forever

I hope you’re getting lots of smooches and fresh air

much love

-🫧🫧

(PS no stop no don't write for Shinjiro, he’s totally not everyone’s anime dad crush at all 😉😚)

BESTIE BUBBLEEEEEEEEEE!!

So tickled that you reread TGW again. Honestly, I’ve fallen right back into the brain rot it, and spent a good portion of today writing for it 😭 seeing Giyuu smile in last night’s episode made me MELT.

and ALSMSKAKOAKS as always your compliments reduce me to an absolute puddle and I will never be solid again.

I’ll answer your asks about TGW below!

I won’t give away Reader’s backstory quite yet (that comes in Part 3!) but I will say — she was raised in a shrine and doesn’t have a lot of personal items either. She’s actually so overwhelmed by the fact she finally has a home — something that she can call hers, that she almost cries 😭 but you’ll see Giyuu feel sort of insecure about it for the first time (he just wants to impress his girl lmao).

As for your question about when I decided to make Reader a shrine maiden in TGW..

TGW came about because of the “I’m not your enemy” scene that was teased in the OG teaser — hence, why it was the first look. The entirety of TGW bloomed around this one mental image I had of Giyuu strangling his lover. I decided pretty quickly it would be his BOJ.

I knew she was going to be a civilian when I published the OG teaser, but I hadn’t settled on anything more concrete than that. HOWEVER, the second scene I wrote was the first time scene that ends Part I — I wrote that entire thing in like an hour while procrastinating. I first teased the virginity loss scene like, maybe two days after the OG teaser? So in the span of those two days I decided she would be a Shrine Maiden. It was a pretty easy decision — I needed her to have some flexibility RE her background but also give her a stable place Giyuu could come back to and see her. So that’s how I decided! But to answer your question, she was pretty much a Miko from the start, minus like two days lmao.

As for the Tanjiro scene — honestly, I’m enjoying the thought of it sm. Especially because he, like everyone else left alive after Muzan, had NO IDEA Reader even existed.

Giyuu actually takes off from the Butterfly Mansion to get her as soon as he regains consciousness and doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going — so when they show up concerned to his estate, you can imagine how SHOOK they are to se that not only is there a woman there (the implication of what they did the previous night being very clear lmao), but also that she’s introduced as his fiance. Like, “here she is, this is mine. I love her.”

I’m so glad you loved It Takes Two 🫡🫡 I am happy to provide spit roasting always!!

Sending you much love!! Please stop encouraging me to write Shinjuro I have too much to do!! I’ve already started HELP

[riddle-me-ri]

oh oh! how do you think btas riddler would react to his s/o successfully completing The Riddle of the Minotaur?

A/N: Aww omg this idea is so cute! He would be estatic he would be thrilled and so proud!! Aww I always enjoy writing for my wee husbando this is so cute! Also sorry I sorta…went a wee bit off track lol and I..kinda borrowed a similar twist I’ve done before…I hope you don’t mind…it was just really hard to resist the opportunity was RIGHT THERE lmao

Word Count: 1k

BTAS Riddler x Reader - Full Playthrough

“Edward, what’s this?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Ed smiled. 

You sat up straight in a plush office chair, staring at a large computer monitor. An 8-bit epic score played through the speakers and a pixelated title on the screen in green text: 

“The Riddle of the Minotaur”

Below the title was blinking green text stating; 

“Press Enter to Start.”

When you finally read the title, you smiled up at Edward. 

“It’s your game! I-I didn’t think you had a copy still…after what happened.”

Edward sighed, nodding. “Despite…the outcome of my game being stolen right from under me…I’m still very proud of it.” 

“You should be!” You exclaimed. 

Edward leaned in and gently nestled his chin into your left shoulder. 

He whispered warmly into your ear. “But now, it would mean the world to me if…you played it in it’s entirety.”

You gasped. You always enjoyed playing Eddie’s puzzle toys and video games. They always got you to think outside the box and they were super fun too! Not to mention, you adored the praise he gave you for solving them. 

Now, one of his most well known (or perhaps…infamous?) creations was in front of you. Waiting to go on a virtual enigmatic adventure. 

‘I-I’d love to Eddie! This is exciting!” Edward chuckled. He always did love your enthusiasm for his creations. 

He lifted his head up from your shoulder and gave an encouraging kiss to your temple. 

“Good luck, darling. And don’t be surprised if it’s a bit different than what you might have learned when it was released.” 

After that Edward walked out of his office, leaving you a bit confused at that last statement. 

You knew a little about the game, it’s setting, and the objective to get to the center of a maze and outsmart the Minotaur. You have heard some kid beat the game while The Riddler was at large. What was the kid’s name? Tom? Dick? Harry?

You shrugged it off, maybe Edward just added a couple more puzzles or maybe updated some riddles?

Pushing down on the “enter” button, the game finally began. 

Minutes soon turned into a couple of hours. 

Your hands flew across the keyboard–answering riddles, clicking on arrows to navigate through the winding maze. 

A couple riddles were some you have heard or seen before:

“What is the shortest distance between a point in Nome, Alaska, and a point in Miami, Florida?”

You even recognized one of Edward’s favorite riddlers. 

“I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears yet only four lobes…”

Of course, the brain…duh!

You have yet to run into the Hand of Fate or the Minotaur. 

You couldn’t help the proud smirk that grew on your face as you saw the center of the maze up ahead on the map. 

However, now the questions…seemed to have changed. 

The riddles thus far have been fairly usual and some were related to the theme of the Minotaur mythos…

Yet, these last few had a more…romantic feel?

“I can break, I can be clogged, I can be attacked, I can be given, I can be kept, I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?” 

A heart…

You navigated further to the center before you hit another riddle. 

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but th easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am I?” 

You tapped your finger on top of the mouse as you pondered. 

“Love…” You typed out the word and pressed the enter key. 

Heart, love…odd but you could feel your cheek slightly warm. Perhaps, these were the changes he made, to make the game more special for your playthrough. 

Finally, you are just outside the center of the maze. You’re confronted by the Minotaur before you can pass through the final gate. 

The pixelated minotaur raised his blade before asking a final riddle. 

“Answer the riddle…and you shall pass to the center of the maze. If you answer incorrectly, you shall perish.” The red text typed out the Minotaur’s speech. 

“For your final riddle…” The Minotaur began. 

“...It connects two people…yet it only touches only one. What is it?” 

An empty text box appeared at the bottom of the speech box. A vertical line blinked, waiting for an answer. 

“W-What?” You asked out loud to yourself. 

Connects two people…but only touching one or the other?

You were lost in thought, so much so you didnt’ hear the door open and someone slowly walking behind you. 

Edward wore a proud wide grin on his face. You were so close to the finish line and he had the perfect reward. 

“A…not a…ugh…there was love…heart…it’s gotta connect.” 

You gasped as your mental lightbulb went off. You typed sporadically on the keys. 

“A…wedding…ring?” You pressed enter. 

The screen went black for a moment, before showing your warrior character in the middle of the maze standing in front of a trove of treasures. 

Your smile grew wide as the text came up confirming your victory. 

“Eddie!” You hollered as you jumped out of your seat. “I did it!” 

“I knew you could, darling.” Eddie beamed. 

You jumped again this time in surprise more than excitement. 

Edward was right behind you, a soft look filled with affection topped with a sweet smile. 

“Eddie! W-When–how–I, I did not see you-”

Edward chuckled. “I wanted to be here just before your inevitable win. I knew you would…but you never cease to amaze me.” 

You giggled as you rushed over to him, planning for an embrace. But before you got your arms around him–he dropped down on one knee. 

Your eyebrows scrunched in the middle. 

Then another lightbulb goes off. 

The riddles, the answers…especially near the end. 

“I may be the smartest man in this world…but only you could make me the happiest man in this world…will you marry me?” 

You got your second wind to rush him again, to finally embrace him. This time you followed through and even knocked him down to the ground. 

“Yes! Yes!” You shrieked excitedly, “I’d love to!” 

Edward sighed in relief as he tightened his arms around you. When you finally let up, Edward gently slid the ring on your finger. 

“It connects two people…” He began. 

When the ring nestled around the base of your finger, your smile widened more than when you won the game.

“Yet, it only touches one.” You finished.

[all-things-ghostly]

Hi hi!

So I don't know if you take requests or not but if you do I have one for you!!

How about Hatbox ghost (movie or not doesn't matter) with a medium s/o. They are like Madam Leota but more in touch with the spirit world since they've studied more and are a wee but adventurous.

They can also get into the minds of other people but getting in a tub filled with ice and water blindfolded kinda like El from Stranger things.

I hope this isn't overwhelming and if I can't request anything that's fine! Just thought I'd try! :)

❤️ anon

Oh wow hi anon! You're actually my first ask! I know I haven’t really mentioned requests before since honestly I usually just take those on a case by case basis based on whether or not I can come up with something for it, but you were super sweet and polite and I have quite a few ideas for this so I’ll give yours a shot 👍 I just hope you don’t mind if I do it more headcanon style because I can’t really think of a way to make my ideas flow properly into a oneshot lmao. I’m honored that you thought of me, thank you!

Your powers were actually what initially led you to Alistair. Your sense of adventure always had you traveling from haunted site to haunted site, seeing what you could pick up on and who you could potentially meet, so when you noticed the mansion was vacant once again you immediately took the opportunity to go inside and check it out.

He was the first ghost you encountered in there, since he obviously got all excited and bloodthirsty when he realized another mortal got caught up in his trap. As you can imagine at first he wasn’t all that friendly. In his eyes you were just another soul to claim, although he did quickly catch on that there was more to you than what meets the eye.

That just convinced him to up the ante on his mind games even further, he did some of the scariest things he could think of, sent out all the most erratic ghosts after you, all that jazz, but it just completely failed lmao. Instead you just ate that shit up. You were searching for wild ghost encounters? Well now you certainly have them.

Alistair was so annoyed with it at first but you eventually grew on him. He saw a bit of himself in you. You had that same curiosity for the morbid and mystical that he once did when he was younger.

Which is why he maybe even starts to teach you some of what he knows. I’m sure he has some like ancient books hiding around somewhere (even if his reading skills are… questionable…) that were lost to time and never published in modern day that taught you all sorts of new things. Although he was more so into the dark arts aspect of things which can obviously have repercussions, so maybe it’s best if you skip over the blood sacrifices for now… or don’t, who knows. That’s for you to decide ;)

However, as much as he’s intrigued by your talent, he also looks out for you. Theres no hiding that you can be just a little reckless and over ambitious sometimes and may not always properly protect yourself. That can lead to very bad things, as he would know, he was summoned into the mansion for that very reason. So if by any chance the time ever comes, he will make sure no dark entity ever crosses you. This guy can seriously mess somebody up-

As for the emotional mind reading aspect of things, Alistair’s bad at showing and communicating his feelings most of the time. His dad kind of enforced that into him. Sometimes you’ll have to use your abilities to be able to fully understand how he’s feeling when he can’t articulate it himself. You don’t always have to go full sensory deprivation, sometimes it can be as simple as closing your eyes and clearing your thoughts, but he can also bury some stuff REALLY deep down that would require you to really ground yourself to get into his mind. He does appreciate it though, it allows you both to empathize with one another even when he can’t easily be open.

I had another thought that kind of goes along with this. Now if reader’s a REALLY good medium, like able to connect all the way to the region beyond type of really good medium, there could be a time where you might reach out to his mom for him. Only if he’s ready for it of course. Theres a lot that’s changed since they’ve last seen each other. And, I like to headcanon that when he was mortal and participating in occult, he would sometimes secretly go off alone and try to contact her, but it would never work. You may very well finally be his chance to do that again. He sobs like a baby during the conversation but it’s very healing and it ties up a lot of loose ends on his side. Sometimes if he’s having a really hard time, you’ll offer to try and reach her for him so they can talk, since his mom is the only person he really has ever felt completely 100% safe around.

I hope that kinda fit what you were thinking of anon! Thanks for popping in ❤️

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Just a note, Tobirama DID step in between Butsuma and Hashirama in the manga. As i see him, he was a gentle brother, he will feel for Hashiramas pains and joys, he tells his brother everything he thinks, he wants to be close to his brother. Its not until Madara that Hashirama, and their relationship...changed.

As for Hashirama, he loves his brother and its clear his whole dream was because of him, but we dont have canon material on how young Hashirama shows that love to the real person.

Im not saying Tobirama and Sasuke were alike in personality, and similar neither are Hashirama and Itachi, but young Tobiramas gentle ways of always looking to his brother and KiNda was just brushed aside, plus his baby looks thats closer to an Uchiha than his family, strongly reminds me of young Sasuke while his brother was busying with his "big picture" goals. Maybe as Edo he really feels he was lacking in being a brother and thats why he praised both Itachi and Madara on being brothers.

Thanks for the correction! I had to look it up again, and yeah, first Butsuma punches Hashirama and Tobirama catches him but then Hashirama goes on provoking Butsuma (lmao what a king) and that’s when Tobirama steps in. Honestly forgot about that part, I only remembered the first part.

As for the rest… I don’t really see where you’re coming from. As I said, the founders era relies heavily on interpretation and if that’s how you interpret child Tobirama and child Hashirama, then good for you. I myself don’t see any canon evidence that Tobirama looked up to Hashirama in the same way Sasuke did to Itachi. If anything, we see wee Izuna looking up to his big bro. There’s no Sasuke-Itachi and Tobirama-Hashirama parallel I can see, sorry.

And when it comes to Tobirama, there’s even more mystery. We see him as a child calling grown ups dumb and how they just should just make a truce, and then there’s a time skip and he’s more than ready to kill the Uchiha, to kill Madara and doesn’t believe in the peace Hashirama wants to make. What happened? Who the fuck knows, we never get to see his thoughts, only when he props Naruto. What is going on in that head at any time is a mystery to all of us and thus free to interpretation. There’s no right or wrong. (Though, I personally think that antis and stans are equally wrong.)

“Maybe as Edo he really feels he was lacking in being a brother” <- this is where you have lost me. I don’t think that Hashirama was lacking in being a brother and that he thought so either. Canon shows us a rather cold relationship, but as I already stated, I reject that. They had their disagreements but we don’t really see them outside of that so I can imagine them in a loving brotherhood all I want. And yes, I do think Hashirama overreacted when he threatened Tobirama in that final Senju-Uchiha fight, but if him reacting a bit too emotional or rightfully calling Tobirama out when he’s being unfair toward the Uchiha is considered him being a bad brother, then I will point with the finger at Tobirama and say him yelling at Hashirama and insulting him and only listening to him when it’s an order is also being a bad brother. A relationship is a two-way street.

I’m not sure if this is what you were trying to do but if you came to me to point out how great and dutiful Tobirama is while Hashirama is the bad brother, then sorry, but you’re at the wrong address here.

[subskz]

SO.

EVERYONE STFU BUTTERFLY BANDAGE PART 2 JUST DRAWPED!!! FIRST of all,,, ily and yr giant beautiful fucking brain i’m saur serious rn we are 2 chapters into this shit nd it’s already taking over my life 🤣

NOW PLS #EXPLAIN YRSELF BCUZ HOW THE FAWK DID YOU GET INFO ON SECRET GRINDSET LORE,,, the parts about y/n’s ex hit a wee bit too close to home i fear 💀 yes i’m y/n thx for asking. but i fucken love how you wrote it the way you described the emotions is fr like?!?! you wrote it even more accurate than it FEELS does that make sense prob not anywhomst WE MOVE (killing y/n’s ex btw)

y/n nd changbinnie wit their joint slay I CARE THEM SAUR MOCH i love how y/n is always thinking of bin even when he’s not around like she fr loves him that’s ha bff 🥹🫶🏽 AND CHANATHAN. EVERY FUCKEN SCENE WITH HIM GOT ME FEELING LIKE A REPRESSED VICTORIAN MAN FAWKKKK WHEN Y/N SAW HIM COME OUT THE POOL?!?! MASSIVE L FOR TUMBLR USER GRINDSET

i want that smut scene injected in my fucking veins btw. legiterally feels like a gift from the gawds to have my fav writer write about my fav mans 🫡 i lost my shit so many times when reading like when chan got all flustered about not having condoms and WHEN Y/N SAID “MINE”……YEAH IT’S OVER FOR ME GIRLIES LMFAOOO miss y/n is down catastrophic prehistoric paleolithic for channie i #understand ha

THE LAST PART HAD A BITCH SWEATING BTW,,, LEE KNOW BE KNOWIN 🫣🫣 THE WAY HE WAS ACTING GOT ME FAWKED UP I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE YR MEOW MEOW DISLIKE Y/N?!?! MISSUS RIN WIT THE TWISTS ND TURNS

apawlogies for all this eye amn’t responsible for the person i become when i read yr fics,,, lit rally shaking moaning throwing up for part 3 I CAN’T WAIT ILYSM QUEENIE

MY DEAREST DARLING GRINDSET…WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN ㅠㅠ you always leave me giggling like a schoolgirl over your messages thank you so much for taking the time to read it and send in your thoughts!! i can’t say it enough seriously ♡

SECRET GRINDSET LORE…i want to say i’m glad you related as the reader but in this case i’m very sorry if it brought up any unpleasant memories for you 😭 take me w you we are on our way to run over the reader’s emotionally neglectful weasly lil ex!!! and i’m so touched you think the emotions were conveyed properly…i feel like that’s smth i need to improve on so it’s a huge compliment to me that you felt that way!

i’m so thrilled you like binnie and the reader’s relationship 🥰 she really does just adore him and support him despite all their bickering they are besties!!! HAHAHA that pool scene was truly so self-indulgent i know it was akin to fanservice but ykw…shirtless channie getting flustered was a must! DOWN PALEOLITHIC…HELP SHE ABSOLUTELY IS!!! she’s got it so bad for him if it were anyone else i’d be like girl…stand UP! but it’s channie so i think she gets a pass <3

lino is AWARE‼️ my meow meow…i have to admit it was tough making him a lil cold to the reader when i live my life wearing lino-loving lenses LMAO but please do not think ill of him…he has his reasons…(ominous)

please don’t apologize i’m not kidding when i say reading your feedback makes my heart soar!! you are so observant of every little thing it means a lot to me ��💗 i’m so glad you enjoyed this part and that you’re looking forward to the next!! i love u so much MWAH

[ghostiewriter]

I finished KoA🥲

I fucking new gavriel was gonna die I had a feeling and I thought I’d prepared myself for it but I did not and I was fighting to hold in my tears cuz I was not by myself at the moment and it fucking hurt. All those years he could’ve had getting to know aeidon😩 l know it was like he finally accepted his dad after that but it still hurt.

Bro and the thirteen sacrificing themselves for Manon 😫😫😫😫😫 I actually couldn’t hold in my tears for their deaths. Idk if it’s because out of all the characters stories Manon was one of the most captivating for me besides aelin. I absolutely loved her character arc and development, I could never get enough of her chapters and hated when I had to wait more than 5 chapters for her to come up again. And asterins story was so incredibly sad but she’s no longer separated from her human love and child🥹 (not me talking about these characters like they’re actual people)

Also she and dorian better have gotten together after the book I was really rooting for them and I hate I didn’t get to see them finally fall into a romantic relationship with each other. They were so fucking cute 😭

Sorry this is all over the place but I hated reading aelin getting tortured I felt so helpless and was so mad at cairn and Maeve for all the shit they did to her but it’s ok cuz Rowan skinned him alive and maeve finally died in the end :)

Also my appreciation for Rowan and aelin’s relationship after she was rescued went way up. He was just perfect for her and I love them together. I felt for aelin so much, all the shit she gave up for everyone and when Dorian’s dad have her the message from her family 😫 and when she was breaking a little and her mom was comforting her omg my heart was breakinggg.

I loved seeing the soft and vulnerable side of lorcan when he and elide finally got together it was adorable. Idk what it was about their story though I just felt like it was a bit rushed in a way after she avoided him for the most part which was understandable I guess I just really wanted to see a whole conversation about what happened and for him to beg on his knees even though he couldn’t lmao. But it was understandable since they were in the middle of a battle and she was terrified she lost him. Also Lord Lorcan Lochan 🤣 I fucking love them

Lysandra is amazing I love her and I’m glad she didn’t immediately forgive aeidon for all the shit he said to her. I understood why he was mad but this mf took it so personally like my dude get over yourself and stop treating the woman you love like shit!! That being said when they finally got together I was very happy for the both of them😌

Also Yrene fucking Towers ending erawan😏 love her

Omg and them when aelin and chaol finally met up with Dorian 😭 I love all their friendships and it was actually so heartbreaking when the war was done and everyone had to leave back to their countries :(

There’s so much stuff I could say more about but that would be really fucking long and I feel like I’ve gone on enough for now. It was a good read even if it broke my heart over and over again

OH BESTIE I SOBBED DURING THIS BOOO I GET IT AHSHSBSJZBSNSB

The Thirteen sacrificing themselves and Gavriel’s sacrifice genuinely got me, I wasn’t expecting it to make me sob but they did😭especially Gavriel like he just started having a relationship with his son!!!!

ELIDE AND LORCAN ARE SO CUTE AND THEY ARE ONE OF MY FAVS!! Still pissed we never got that smut scene tho, we were robbed!!

But I adore Yrene and I need more Manon and Dorian and just everything was so🫠and the wee scene with Dorian realising he was named after his dad? KILLED ME

anyways, now you can move onto acotar🌚you’re gonna LOVE IT

[graff-aganda]

It's been a while but I wanted to say I am obsessed with your Lost art Charlie should be sandwiched between Claire as Desmond it is written and it should be done so thank you for your service 🫡 I was just wondering though do you have any desmond/claire/Charlie hc or just Charlie hcs I love that little man so much its quite sad so I'd love to hear your thoughts!! :^)

Wahhh TYSM!! I’m glad to hear you liked my doodles! ;; And my service is no problem anon. :salute: lmao

As for headcanons and stuff… hm… 🤔 TBH I don’t think I’m typically a huuuuge headcanon kinda guy. I don’t think I have any on hand or in mind. However you can’t deny the trans dude swag radiating from Desmond and Charlie, so I think either one of em or both is a fun hc. I remember in my rewatch with friends when Desmond would inject himself we all made jokes about his testosterone supply. 😭 Trapped in the bunker for all those years, thank god he hasn’t run out yet etc etc. Maybe he can share with Charlie. :)

And I’ve gotta say. In the 2023 reboot that lives in my head where Charlie gets to survive (at least for a wee bit longer), I love the idea that the ways the island tries to kill him are getting more and more ridiculous. A coconut falling on his head. Getting buried in the sand but high tide comes unexpectedly when Claire and Des leave for a moment. Maybe he trips over a vine or something. And so the other two are constantly exhausted and fed up saving his life. Telling him to just stay seated in the tent for a day so they can relax. 😭 

And actually you know what. I think Desmond deserved to be a little weirder in general. All the time isolated and what he went through. I do like how charming he is but I want him to be a bit more of a social pariah, at least at first. A guy who doesn’t remember how to act around people. Which would only serve to make his weird obsession with Charlie’s life even weirder.

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Seven

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 18k (mad)

Chapter Warnings: ok so me and @h1sch13r were having a conversation about the girl with the list (iykyk and if you don't, don't go looking) and I had to put it in here because it was too funny of an opportunity not to (s/o to Rory for the inspo and the trauma where she told me a woman's brain shrinks in pregnancy who knew!!!) so there's some pretty gross things in here about pregnancy and babies lmao, also poppy has well and truly lost the plot tbh but this is why we love her she is nothing if not delusional, mentions of judgemental parents and weak family relationships, talk of pregnancy, babies and thoughts/feelings around the two topics, talk of childbirth kind of but not in depth, sort of angsty but not like ANGSTY!!!!! do you know what I mean? very much moreso on the fluffy side though. a bit of hurt/comfort. poppy is an anxious mess, nico is... nico (I say with love and affection this time I promise)

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Six)

A/N: I feel like the speed in which I wrote this is a testament to how much I love writing these two and this story and I LOVE YOU GUYS AND THE WAY YOU LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH IT MELTS MY WEE HEART I just wanna spend my days reading all the nice things you send me I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! 💖 the ending is a little bit rushed but I can't keep going back and forth on it or I'll lose my mind

Poppy

Despite having the invitation stuck to her fridge for 6 weeks, and knowing about the event even further in advance, Poppy’s cousin, Elsie’s, baby shower could not have come at a more ridiculous time for her. 

She knows she can’t expect everyone else’s world to stop turning just because her own life is spiralling way out of control, but a baby shower is just downright cruel.

Especially when she hasn’t even taken a test yet.

It's been 3 days since she had spoken to Katja Hischier at the signing event. 

She had gone straight to the pharmacy once she had finished work, had picked up every single brand of pregnancy test she could find and had swallowed down the embarrassment when the girl behind the counter had looked at her like she was insane.

And she had spent that whole evening sat staring at the bag in which she had stashed them, not even daring to get one out.

The next day, she had gone to work, and had gone straight back to pretending like nothing else was going on in her life - only this time, she had a little trashcan beneath her desk dedicated to the nausea that rippled through her all day like some sort of sick constant reminder of her situation. It was a gross counter measure, but it stopped her having to take constant trips to the bathroom and rousing any sort of suspicion. 

If anyone else were to come to the same conclusion Nico’s mom had, and confront her about it, she would have burst into tears on the spot.

The day after that was Saturday, and of all the things she could have done to distract herself from what was going on, she had gone shopping for a gift for her cousin in Manhattan. With her mother.

She had spent the day looking at cribs, and changing tables, little tiny wardrobes to keep little tiny clothes, and God all the little tiny clothes were so small it made her tense up.

On the upside, it was like her body knew better than to get sick in front of her mother - she’d never hear the end of it.

She was getting enough of a backhanded lecture about her cousin’s pregnancy, never mind the potential of her own.

“I can’t believe she’s having another baby out of wedlock,” Priscilla had scoffed as she and Poppy were first checking through the gift registry in Macy’s, “Your father and your Uncle Paul think she’s an absolute disgrace.”

“They’ve been together like 7 years, Mom, that’s stronger than a few marriages I know of. She’ll be fine.”

“It isn’t about how long they’ve been together, Poppy,” her mom swats at her hand as she scrolls a little too fast down the list, “It’s about securing the best future for those children. The man is a glorified construction worker, she could have chosen better in life.”

Elsie’s partner Jared is an architect, but she couldn’t find any use in arguing that point with her mother in the middle of a department store. 

If she found out Poppy could maybe be carrying the baby of a hockey player, who she would never marry and wasn’t even in a relationship with, she would have a cardiac episode right in the middle of the shop floor.

“Is it not about her being happy?” She had asked, and the look her mother threw her way was all the answer she needed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t possibly be happy in that little bungalow with no college education and no ring on her finger. Believe me.”

Elsie’s bungalow had been designed by Jared when she was pregnant with their first son. They owned everything outright from the 4 acres of land it sat on to the final tile Jared had laid in the roof, himself. The house is a labour of love, and every time Poppy visits, Elsie has a smile on her face like she has the whole world at her fingertips.

It has always been something she has envied. 

And she thinks it’s envy that creeps up on her in the third day, when she and Nia arrive at the bungalow with their gift bags in tow, and Elsie and Jared answer the door like the picture of once in a lifetime love.

She’s absolutely glowing, mostly through her third trimester now, her bump round and low, her cheeks puffy and her eyes gleaming with unadulterated joy. And Jared looks at her like she’s the only woman in the world.

Yeah, it’s definitely envy.

And maybe a touch of pride at her cousin for sticking it to their family.

“I can’t believe Elsie’s onto her second kid and me and you are glorified spinsters,” Nia comments as she picks up a handful of finger sandwiches.

“I don’t think you can be a spinster at 25, Ni, that’s a little overdramatic.” Poppy responds, swallowing down the arising queasiness at just the sight of devilled eggs on the table set up for food. Elsie is pregnant, for God’s sake, she thinks, she shouldn’t want to be around any kind of eggs.

“Maybe we should just suck it up and marry each other, we’d make cute babies.”

“Again, not how that works.”

“Well obviously you’d carry it. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m ever pushing a little cantaloupe sized head out of my lady parts, I hurt just thinking about it.”

Poppy wants to say tell me about it. It’s all she’s been thinking about herself the last few days, and the last thing she needs as she’s trying to avoid thinking about it is to be surrounded by constant reminders.

Like the little tiny plastic baby clinging to the straw in her lemonade that it takes everything in her to resist launching across the room, or the giant stack of diapers shaped into a four tier cake that sits on the end of the table that she wants to tear apart.

She usually loves babies. 

She loves fawning over little boopy noses and squealing at all the cute slogans on their little onesies - like I’m berry cute with a little embroidered strawberry beside it or a little printed dinosaur that says, I’m a-roar-able!

She loves when they get the hiccups, and their wide eyes go round like they don’t know what the hell is happening to their bodies. 

She loves when they have those little self-satisfied smiles in their sleep, and everyone argues over whether it’s gas or not.

But as much as she loves all those things usually, right now they are terrifying her.

Every single thing she tries to lay her eyes on to take her mind off of everything is baby themed. Pink floating balloons with teddy bears weighing them down, a message board with a bunch of baby grow shaped cards pinned to it, a bowl of lollipops that are shaped like pacifiers. 

She can’t escape it no matter where she goes or who she speaks to, and so all she can do is hover round Nia like a wordless zombie and wait until there’s a group event where hopefully some normal conversation gets flowing.

Only, expecting any kind of normal conversation at a baby shower is delusional at best.

“Oh my god, a snot sucker! I was just telling Jared how much we need one of these!” Elsie exclaims as she pulls the little box out of a gift bag covered in little rainbows.

“A what-now?” Nia’s face is the picture of disgust, leaning into the circle to get a better look at the present Elsie had just unwrapped.

“Babies can’t clear their own noses when they get congested,” Elsie’s friend, Gina, who had gifted the device, pipes up from across the room, “So you put the little tube up there and suck on the other end. The snot gets stuck in the middle and you just wash it out. It saves you having to suck it out with your own mouth.”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick,” Poppy chokes out, bringing her hand to her mouth in what the rest of the group assume is mock disgust, but she can literally feel her stomach turning.

“Me too,” Nia mimics her, “Does the girl with the list know about this? That you have to suck the snot out of your baby’s nose?! Who would even think of doing that in the first place?!”

Poppy jabs her elbow into her side, wincing at the thought and trying to fight the urge to vomit. The last thing she needs is to be reminded of the girl with the damn list. The last time that had come across her feed, she’d added on there that being pregnant can cause your sweat to turn blue. What if she can never wear white again?

“It’s one of those wonderful motherly instincts, you don’t even think about it being gross when it comes to relieving your baby, like sniffing their diapers or fishing their crap out of the bathtub!”

Poppy pushes herself up from her place on the couch, and makes a dash for the nearest bathroom, hearing Nia excuse her with, “She probably shouldn’t have come, she’s been sick all week. Tell me more about the bathtub thing though, is that like a regular occurrence? You just live in constant fear like that?” 

When she’s safely inside, she presses her back to the other side of the door, her shaking body calming as she takes deep breaths and fights past the nausea until she no longer feels the need to throw up.

She tries to think of other things. Clean things. No bodily fluids involved. Fresh laundry and Coconut Breeze candles. 

It takes a good couple minutes before she feels okay again.

When she finally opens her clenched eyes, she realises the bathroom she had stumbled into is not in fact the guest bathroom, but the one Elsie and Jared had assigned specifically to their son - and Poppy’s god-son - Jensen, who was given his mother’s surname as his first, but Poppy has always told him he was named after her.

There is sailboat wallpaper, rubber ducks with different costumes lining the bathtub, a little plastic step up to the sink with Paw Patrol characters on the side, and a cabinet covered in stickers.

God bless her cousin for not raising a beige baby, she thinks.

When she gets a closer look, she realises the stickers are little cartoon versions of Harry Potter characters, and she can’t help the little smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth as she smooths her fingers over one of them, making sure the edges stick back down and don’t start to peel. 

Nico would give his kids Harry Potter stickers. He’d let them leave them all over the house, would probably let them stick them to his practice gear and his old sticks. He’d play rubber duckies in the bathtub, give each one a little unique voice and would ingrain each character to his memory for every bath time, and blow bubbles at them until they erupted into little dimpled giggles. He’d stand in front of the sink and brush his teeth beside them, singing a 2 minute song he made up in his head so they’d learn to brush them for longer.

It would all come so easy to him.

Oh God.

She should not be thinking about this. Not in her godson’s bathroom, at least, in the middle of her cousin’s baby shower.

There’s a door off to the side, hooks on the back with a couple hooded bath towels - one that looks like a frog and another that looks like a dinosaur - and she finds herself reaching for the handle before she can think too much of it, pushing the door until it opens into Jensen’s room.

He’s sitting on the floor beside his bed, surrounded by little plastic pieces and trying to make sense of the booklet in his lap, and when he hears the door creak open, he looks up in surprise.

“Hey, Auntie Poppy.”

He would usually shoot up when he sees her - would run and jump into her arms and squeeze until he gets bored, would ask her, is that enough? And she would always tell him no so that he would squeeze her again.

It’s their thing.

But he stays sat, this time, his attention diverting immediately back to the Lego bricks in front of him. 

“Hey, bud, you okay in here? What are you doing on your own?”

“I’m just playing.”

Jensen never plays on his own. He usually has the attention span of a gnat, and jumps between every activity he can think of, all while clutching the nearest adult’s hand and dragging them along for the ride.

Poppy lowers herself onto her knees beside him, careful not to push down into any of the bricks, and leans onto the palm of her hand. “You mind if I play, too?”

“Sure! I’m building Ron’s car from Harry Potter!” 

He shows her the box, that reads Flying Ford Anglia, and she gives a reminiscent smile as she says, “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s my favourite! Mommy says if I can do this one she’ll get me the train for my birthday.” She doesn’t even let her mind go where it wants. She’s putting a temporary ban on thinking about him until she’s in the safety of her own home, where her mind can’t wander at the sight of tiny pairs of sneakers sat beside matching big ones and baby grows that are no bigger than her forearm. “I’m gonna be 6.”

She knows that. She remembers the Thanksgiving dinner 6 years ago where his mom had announced to their family that she was foregoing college because she was pregnant at 18. She had never been prouder of anyone in her life, if not for taking centre stage at Jensen Thanksgiving, then for the way she had so casually gone back to eating Turkey legs like it was no big deal while both of their parents argued amongst themselves.

“That’s awesome, how can I help?”

“Could you read it to me? I can read, but I can’t read and put it together at the same time. I’m not an octopus.”

Poppy chuckles, taking the little instruction booklet from him and biting her tongue to save from telling him he wouldn’t need more hands to do both things, he’d just have to put the booklet down.

She observes him mostly as he puts the figure together, blue bricks stacking up until they eventually resemble the car in the picture, and he attaches them with a tiny tongue poking out the side of his mouth that reminds her of his mom. She does the same thing when she’s baking, following instructions left in a book by their grandmother and trying to measure things out to the gram. 

He isn’t as chatty as he usually is, and she takes a stab in the dark as to what might be the matter. 

“Hey, how cool, you’re gonna get to teach your baby sister all about Harry Potter, too!”

Jensen shrugs, a pensive frown on his face as he stays focused on the Lego. “Mommy says she won’t be able to watch movies with me.”

“Not for a little while. Babies just eat, sleep and poop for the first couple of months, I think,”

“Gross,” he turns his nose up, but his eyes flicker up to Poppy’s in amusement. She may not be a mother, but she knows the surefire way to a kid’s good graces - mentioning poop. It works every time.

“Super gross. But eventually, you’re gonna get to teach her about all the cool stuff you like, and she’ll probably love things just ‘cause you do. When I was a kid, I wanted to do everything my big brother did. We went as Ash and Pikachu for Halloween 3 years running, and I’d spend all my allowance on Pokemon cards for his collection.”

“You were a baby sister?” He asks, and she swallows down the hurt at the fact he doesn’t really know his uncle Oliver. Or his first cousin removed, whatever it is that they are. Oli’s eldest, James, is only a year older than Jensen, and they barely know of each other’s existence, just another name in a Christmas card they’re too young to read.

Their family is a minefield of hidden feuds and bad communication skills, but she’d like to think Elsie is attempting to break the generational patterns.

Maybe she could do that.

“Yeah,” Poppy chuckles, clicking the tiny brick into another and checking it against the picture in the booklet. She hasn’t felt like a little sister in a long time. “We’re not all that bad, as long as you’re nice to us.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty cool.” Jensen nods, and he smiles so big that Poppy notices for the first time that he’s finally missing a tooth. 

“Your sister will be pretty cool too,” she tells him, resisting the urge to tell him about a few other guys missing teeth that she knows. 

“Yeah, when she stops pooping all the time.” He giggles.

“Definitely.”

He continues building his car for a second, until he asks, “Hey, Auntie Poppy?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“How is she coming out?”

“How is she-,” her mouth flops open in shock. Of all the things in the world he wants to come to her about, he has to be joking with this. Talk about timing. “Your mom hasn’t handled that one?”

“Nope. And she won’t tell me how she got in there.”

“Yeah, that’s not really my area of expertise, kid.” If only he was old enough to understand irony. “How do you think she’s gonna come out?”

“I think they’re gonna have to crack mommy like an egg.”

“Oh, that-,” Sounds like something the girl with the list might be interested in, Poppy thinks, her mind going places she hadn’t yet dared to let it go. “That actually makes sense.”

“I knew it.”

Poppy hadn’t realised she had spent the better part of 90 minutes on Jensen’s bedroom floor with him, but it was the only place that felt safe - building Lego cars and skirting around the question of, if my mommy is my mom cause I grew in her belly, then how is my daddy, my dad?

That had genuinely stumped her.

How do you explain genetics to a 5 year old without getting too graphic about it?

She hadn’t been able to argue with the validity of the question - the kid is curious, God help his parents, and she thinks she might have to turn her phone off later to avoid angry calls from Elsie and Jared about why their son is asking them about DMA and Jeans.

She tried to tell him that he was made up of parts of each of them. That he had his mom’s eyes, and her mouth and chin, but he had his dad’s curly hair and his pointed nose. But that had just caused a whole other slew of questions.

And a whole other bunch of thoughts that she was actively trying to fight.

Thoughts of a baby with chocolate brown eyes and hair that goes a little lighter in the sun. Little pudgy arms that cling around broad shoulders, and soft, tiny lips that press wet kisses into a stubbled jaw and giggle at the way it tickles them.

Thoughts of little clumsy legs that will learn to run before they learn to walk, and, when given the chance, will always run straight into muscled arms and a tattooed bicep curling around their tiny frame, a deep laugh ringing in the air between them and dark eyes meeting hers over a mop of fluffy hair.

Thoughts of 6-foot-something someone sitting on the floor with an almost 6 year old, building Harry Potter Lego trains and patiently directing them on what goes where.

For most of those 90 minutes, she hadn’t felt sick. She hadn’t felt nauseous, or panicky or anxious.

She had felt longing, and hopeful, and full.

And as soon as she had left that room, those feelings had swirled into dread again. 

At least Nia had herself a good time. 

She had won the game of Baby Bump Balloon Pop, which Poppy is glad she had missed - if she had to watch a bunch of exploding baby bumps, she might have had a heart attack - and had used her almighty eavesdropping skills to thrash everyone at Don’t Say Baby - ending up with 16 clothes pegs and winning herself the esteemed prize of a bottle No-secco, which she has been ranting about the whole drive back to Poppy’s apartment.

“I get that it’s a baby shower, but come on, the rest of us can still drink! When did Elsie become such a bore,” she whines as the two of them make it through the front door, Nia throwing her jacket onto the coat rack and Poppy making her way straight over to sit down. “Hey, I thought you said you were feeling better,”

“I am,” Poppy feels okay to know that it’s only a half-lie. She does think she caught some kind of food poisoning initially, and the sweats and shivers had subsided since last week, but she can’t find anything to subdue the queasiness at every strong smell or icky thought that crosses her mind. 

“Then why did you flake on me at the party?”

“I didn’t flake, I told you, I was hanging out with Jensen. He was a little down. Also that conversation about snot was too much.”

“Okay, but you were being weird before that. And you’ve hardly spoken the whole way back here.”

“I’m fine.”

“C’mon, Pop, out with it,” Nia sighs as she throws herself into the couch beside Poppy.

“Out with what?” She huffs in response as she works at unzipping her boots.

“Whatever’s got you wound up tighter than a drum, you’ve been acting super weird all day.”

“I haven’t been super weird.” Poppy frowns, throwing the boot she’s just shucked off with a little more passion than is probably warranted, doing little to disprove her best friend’s point.

“You didn’t crack a single joke about how Elsie’s giving her kid a pornstar name. Mia Moore. She’ll be getting bullied for life, Poppy. Even Jared says it with that stupid Italian hand gesture.”

“Maybe I’ve matured,” she shrugs, pushing herself up from the couch and making her way over to the refrigerator, hoping that sticking her head in there for a second might disguise the fact that she is still turning green from waves of nausea. 

“Not likely,” Nia obviously follows, slamming the door shut before Poppy can even adjust her eyes to the light. “You’re being weird.”

“Am not, you are.”

“Oh yeah, real mature,” Nia rolls her eyes before narrowing them at her best friend. “You’re being quiet, and you’re clearly freaking out about something, so why don’t we cut out your very obvious internal meltdown and you just tell me what’s going on?”

Poppy swerves around her, reaching out to where a grocery bag sits on top of her counter, and empties the contents until they scatter across the surface in gentle, staggered thuds. 

“Holy shit.” Nia breathes out, carding through each box as if she’s taking stock. “You know you only need one of these, right?”

“I didn’t know which one was the best, so I got all of them.”

“I think pregnancy tests are pretty universally reliable, Poppy.”

“Yeah, well, they’re non-refundable, so I’ve decided I’m doing every single one and working out the average.”

“Oh my god, the vomiting,” Nia gasps, as if the situation is only just dawning on her - never mind the multiple boxes of tests Poppy has just unveiled on her kitchen counter. “And you had to change your dress earlier, ‘cause it was making your boobs hurt!”

“I didn’t buy these for a fun evening experiment,” she quips, sarcastically, “My period should have been last week, too.”

“Oh my God!”

“But I also can’t be pregnant,”

“Why not?”

“Maybe because then I’d be carrying the baby of a man who wants nothing to do with me?” 

“Okay, calm down, Mrs Theatrical.”

“My karma can’t be that bad. I recycle, I adopt a whole pride of lions in Kenya and my $5 a month contributes to them being safe from poachers! Poachers, Nia! I donate to charity, I don’t steal, I don’t lie, I love thy neighbour,”

“I think you loved thy neighbour a little too much,” Nia cracks, swiftly catching the box that Poppy throws straight at her. “What? You laid that one straight out for me!”

“This is not the time for jokes.”

“You’re right, it’s the time for you to put on your big girl pants and go pee on some sticks.” She holds out the box that had just been launched at her, and Poppy swipes it with a levelling glare. “You’re being ridiculous, Poppy.”

“Fine,” she grunts in displeasure, “But I’m gonna remember how unserious you were about this when it’s your turn for a scare.”

“I have an IUD babe, some of us practice caution when we take hunky men into our beds!” She calls out after her, and Poppy hates how she can still hear her laugh when she slams the door of her bathroom.

“Oh, thank God,” Poppy lets out a sigh of relief once the line forms clearly, the lack of a second allowing her heart rate to slow to a bearable speed and the device in her hands feeling a whole lot lighter than it had a minute ago. “It’s negative!”

“Poppy,” Nia yanks the test from her grip, beyond caring at this point where the piece of plastic has been, and throws it into the pile on the table, “Delusion isn’t going to work for this, that’s one out of fourteen. You know damn well you’re pregnant.”

“But all the boxes say they’re 98% accurate! What if this is the only right one?”

Nia swats at her boob, and Poppy clutches at her chest as the pain merges into the ever-present ache she has felt there for the past week-or-so. 

“Ow, don’t do that, I told you they’re sensitive right now!”

“Oh, I wonder why!” She contends, “Poppy, you’ve taken like $100 worth of tests here, how many more do you need to do until you come to terms with the fact that you have a baby growing in there?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you should try one!”

“Pop, come on-,”

“No, seriously, because what if I bought a bunch of bad ones? Like placebos or something? And if you get a false positive, then we would know!”

“Why would they make placebo pregnancy tests?”

“Duh, for money! Big pharma, Ni! It’s a real thing!”

“You have to be joking,” Nia throws her arms up in exasperation, “Poppy, you’re vomiting,” she holds up her thumb, “Your boobs ache,” she adds a finger, “You should have had your period by now,” and another, “and I don’t even have enough fingers to take into account how many pregnancy tests have told you so, you’re pregnant! The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can be serious and figure this out!”

Poppy picks out a fresh test from the last packet and pushes it into Nia’s chest, a stern look on her otherwise panicked features, “Go pee.” She demands, and when Nia levels her with a look back, she adds a desperate, “Please?”

“Fine,” she grumbles, before wagging an authoritative finger at her friend, “But this is the last one either of us are doing, okay? And because you’re being ridiculous, I get to gloat when it’s negative.”

“Yeah, fine,” Poppy shrugs with feigned nonchalance, and as soon as Nia disappears into the bathroom, Poppy starts refilling her bladder for the last test in the packet.

“You are unbelievable,” Nia sighs when she returns a minute later to find her chugging at a bottle of water. She snatches the last unopened test away, stashing it down her bra where Poppy won’t be able to get it.

“What? I drink when I’m nervous!”

“Yeah, tequila. You’re stressing me out. We’re gonna set the timer on this and while it’s going down we’re gonna talk about it.” Nia throws her own test onto the empty side of the coffee table before she gets her phone out and starts a timer for three minutes. “Sit down, and for the love of God, give me that bottle.”

Poppy sits, surrendering the drink to Nia with a frown and throwing herself down onto the couch in child-like stubbornness. 

“You’re pregnant. We can sit here all night and take a thousand tests, and they’re all gonna tell you the same thing,”

“Not all of them-,”

“Shut up. Do you want to have a baby, yes or no?”

“Nia,” Poppy whines, “It’s not that-,”

“Yes or no, Poppy?”

“Fine, yes!” It almost shocks her how easy the answer comes out.

“Do you want to have this baby?”

“Yeah,” she pouts, tears pricking at her eyes as she accepts her reality for the first time since the thought had so innocently been forced into her mind by Nico’s mom. 

She wants the pudgy armed, brown eyed, giggling ball of joy she had conjured up in her brain earlier.

She wants to wrap it up in fluffy animal themed bath towels, pull the hood up just above its eyes and take a million pictures, and tickle at the back of it’s chunky little legs until dimples form in it’s puffy cheeks and her apartment is filled with the sounds of squeaky little laughter.

And she knows that it isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. She knows she’ll never sleep a full night again, knows she’ll never have free time to do what she wants or that she might lose every ounce of sanity she has left, but she feels like the good stuff outweighs the bad.

“Then why the hell are you going crazy, Pop?” Nia sits right beside her, arm wrapping around her to console what could potentially be a weeping, hysterical shit-show.

“Because it’s a gigantic mess, Ni!” She whines, “My hormones are going apeshit, and all I want is to go to Nico, and to tell him what’s going on, but he doesn’t want me, and this is gonna ruin everything! He’s gonna hate me, he’s gonna want nothing to do with me, and I’m gonna have to quit my job, and then I won’t be able to afford living here and raising a baby on my own, so I’ll have to move back home, and that means this poor innocent clump of cells inside me is gonna grow up in a house with my mother because it’s own mom is hopeless and then the baby will resent me because I can’t do this on my own!”

“Poppy, slow down, breathe,”

She knows she’s hyperventilating, but she can’t stop. Can’t slow down until she gets it all out.

“Nico’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna think I’m trapping him, and he’s gonna think I’m crazy and obsessed with him and maybe I am, you know, maybe this is all my fault and deep down a part of me wanted this to happen because who in their right mind doesn’t even stop to think hey, you probably shouldn’t be coming inside me when we haven’t even talked about it,” she sees Nia wince somewhere out of the corner of her eye, “and he’s gonna blame me for getting in the way of his perfect life with his pretty girlfriend and she’s gonna hate me-,”

Nia squirts her with the bottle, underestimating the spout and pretty much covering Poppy’s entire face with water until it’s dripping from her eyelashes and she has to huff it out of her nose.

“Nia, what the fuck?!” Poppy frowns, looking down at the mess of water that covers her legs and is dripping onto her couch.

“You’re going insane! I didn’t know how else to get you to stop aside from slapping you, and I can’t hit a pregnant lady!”

“But you can waterboard her?!”

“Oh my God, how dramatic can you be?”

“Uh, I think I get a pass right now!” Poppy scoffs, swiping at the droplets running down her face and splashing them over at Nia in retaliation. “You’re not being very helpful.”

“That’s because you’re being stupid.” Nia levels, “You’re not hopeless, Poppy, you’re the smartest, strongest person I know. If that idiot can’t see that, then it’s his own loss, and if he wants nothing to do with you then you’ll be fine. You don’t need him. We can figure this out, you and me together. We can find a place and we can live together again, I’ll be the dad, I’ll take care of you.”

“Ni, I can’t ask you to do that,”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” She asserts, taking Poppy’s still wet hands in her own, “And I’m also telling you that as mad as I am at him right now, Nico isn’t the type of guy that would let you do this on your own, Poppy. You know for a fact that I won’t let a man make a fool out of either of us more than once, so I know I’m not wrong when I say that he is not going to hate you, he isn’t going to blame you.”

“He still doesn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that, Poppy.” Nia tries to reason with her, “You didn’t let him tell you what he wanted.”

The shrill sound of Nia’s alarm interrupts the moment, and Poppy sniffles as her best friend reaches for her phone and picks the test up while she’s there.

She hands the test to Poppy, who sighs as she looks over the result, and rolls her eyes before huffing out a jeering, “You win. Congratulations, you’re not pregnant.”

Nia is too busy typing away at her phone to respond, and after a minute of Poppy glaring at her - annoyed that her focus has diverted elsewhere and more annoyed that she has to be right all the time - her face breaks out in a celebratory grin.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” she huffs out a breathy chuckle, the grin widening with every passing second. 

“What? What could possibly be funny about this?”

Nia turns the device in her hand so Poppy can see the screen - a picture of a small dusting of what looks like crushed black pepper. It's one of those websites that compares the size of a baby in the womb to different foods.

“Your baby is the size of a Poppy seed,” Nia’s face settles into a soft, loving smile, her eyes rounding in awe as she awaits Poppy’s reaction.

Poppy reads the description below.

At four weeks, the foetus is about 2mm or 0.3 inches long, and weighs less than a gram but is growing rapidly in your womb!

“Holy shit.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come up with you?”

The inside of Nia’s car is warm and comforting, the heat cranked so high that Poppy doesn’t want to leave into the cold, even if it’s just for the few seconds between the vehicle and the entrance to Nico’s building.

It’s nothing to do with the nerve-wracking conversation she is about to have.

Nothing at all.

“I’ve got to put on my big girl pants, remember? Let him tell me what he wants before I decide it in my head.”

“I’ll be here if you need me,” she pats Poppy’s thigh in consolation, “And if I need to come up there and kick his ass, just give me a call.”

“I will.”

“Good luck!”

Poppy shuffles out of the car and holds her jacket tighter around her as she makes her way over to the doors of the apartment building, harsh winds whipping at her face and causing her to grimace before she makes it to safety, the doors pressing closed behind her in a gentle thud. 

She’s surprised to see Lionel still sat at his desk, a little later than he normally works, but the familiar face gives her a little bit of reprieve, and the friendly smile he flashes her way calms her rampant heart.

“Hi, Poppy,” he stands to greet her, “You here to see the boys?”

“Nico, actually,” she responds, and watches as he presses his button for the elevator without question, typing something else while he waits for the notification it’s on its way down. “You’re here late.”

“So are you.” He gives a knowing smile back, looking at her over the top of his glasses and causing her skin to turn warm. “Our night guy, Evan, just had a baby, I stick around until he can do bedtime with his wife.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She ignores the lump in her throat at the mention of babies. “I bet it’s nice of him to still get that time in the routine.”

She wonders if that’s something Nico would do - fight to make it home for every bedtime, getting one of the guys to pick up his media responsibilities after a game so he could give their baby an evening bottle and a kiss goodnight.

“He makes sure I have coffee and a donut waiting for me on the desk when my shift starts in the morning, so I can’t complain.”

“Oh, wins all around then,” she chuckles, and thanks him as he walks with her to the elevator.

“It sure is, you have a nice evening, Poppy, I’ve sent Mr Hischier a message that you’re on your way up.”

“Thanks, Lionel,” she hums, appreciative that she isn’t springing a visit on him entirely out of nowhere, now. “Get home safe!”

Lionel presses the buttons for her, and gives her a cheerful wave as the doors close between them, leaving her to her own anxiety for company. 

The elevator ride up is torturously slow, the numbers rising at a mocking pace, and she can feel her heart hammering with every second that passes. When the doors open, she doesn’t immediately step out, and has to reach a shaking hand to stop them closing again and going back down.

As much as she is dreading this, she needs to get it over with.

Once she has told him, it’s done.

He can tell her what he wants and she can just live with it.

No more running through every nightmarish scenario in her head, no more imagining the other side of conversations and mentally booking flights to faraway countries to get away from her problems.

She will tell him she’s pregnant, and then the ball is in his court. Or the puck is in his rink. Whatever.

Her feet feel heavy as she moves toward his apartment, and when she’s stood in front of his door, she raps her knuckles harshly against the wood before she can convince herself not to.

And then she waits.

And waits.

And continues to wait until it starts to frustrate her, knocking again with the side of her fist in jerky movements that rattle the surface.

He’s definitely home, she thinks - she’d shamelessly stalked him on Find My Friends. Lionel had sent the message she was coming up. He has to be home.

Unless he’s down at Jack and Luke’s place.

She isn’t telling him there. God knows what those two would have to say about it.

What if she’s there?

Oh God, she hadn’t even thought about that. 

What if he isn’t answering because he doesn’t want Talia to see her there.

Shit.

Before she can duck and run, before her brain can even send out the direction to get the hell out of there, the door swings open, and she clumsily stumbles back with a surprised gasp.

Nico stands on the other side, skin dripping wet, steam coming off him like something out of a movie, and a towel clutched with a tight fist around his waist that also has a grasp on his phone. His hair is soaked, slicked back out of his face and her eyes are drawn to a droplet of water that trails down from his jaw, beneath a gap where the gold chain he is still wearing doesn’t quite sit flush against the base of his neck, and she watches it disappear into the tuft of dark hair that has grown in the centre of his chest.

“Poppy,” he’s breathless, like he’s just booked it down the hall to get to her, no doubt leaving a trail of soggy footprints in his path, “Hi.”

“S-sorry,” she stutters, making a serious mental effort to keep her eyes on his face. “Is this a bad time?”

“No!” He exclaims, eyebrows shooting up in panic, “No, you’re fine, come in.”

“Are you sure? I can come back,”

Nico steps back, giving her space to come in and tilting his head in a silent invitation. “Positive,” he watches as she takes a cautious step into his apartment, and he closes the door softly behind her. “Let me just,” he gestures to his body as if she isn’t actively trying to avoid looking at it, and she presses her lips together to save herself from audibly gulping. “I’ll get dressed. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a second.”

Jesus Christ.

If Poppy’s heart wasn’t about to beat into oblivion before, it sure is now.

He rushes off down the hall toward his bedroom, and she steps a little further into the open plan of his apartment, casting her eyes in a quick glance across the room.

She can’t help herself - one of the few traits inherited from her mother - if she’s invited into someone else’s home, she’s going to be nosey.

She hasn’t spent much time in Nico’s apartment, before. Back before Summer last year, most of their time together was either spent out or round at her place. He had always said it was for convenience - he would rather be the one that had to drive home, and her place was closer to everything else so it just made sense - but she still thinks in the few times she had seen it, it looks different.

He’s rearranged the furniture, he has a new couch, his kitchen has a new coffee machine. He used to have a couple pictures of his family around, but she can’t see them from where she is.

In fact, she can’t really see anything personal.

If she compares it to her own cluttered space, his apartment looks fresh out of a catalogue. Stone walls, grey fabrics, brown leathers, random red pieces like the odd book and some candles, like he’d picked a page out of Bachelor Pad Weekly and handed it over to a designer with the sole instruction to copy and paste.

There’s a floor to ceiling shelving unit that seems to act as a separator, and it has random sculptures and trinkets she can’t see him picking out for himself. 

She tries not to think too much about how his place differs from her own. How she still has pictures of the two of them scattered in every room.

Guys don’t put as much thought into stuff like that.

She tells herself as much as she’s reading the spines of some of the books that line the shelves - hardbacks that look more like decoration than anything he would actually read - and she finds herself fiddling with the bunch of plastic in her pocket to ground herself.

There isn’t a single feminine thing about the place - almost like he’s scrubbed clean any trace of a woman ever living with him, which shouldn’t ease the tension in her shoulders as much as it does.

She isn’t here to worry about his choice of decor, or who may or may not have had a say in it. 

She isn’t here to question why she sees him in every corner of her home and she is nowhere in his.

She’s here to talk. 

“Sorry,” Nico returns, and she swivels where she’s stood to take him in. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, a slight gap between those and the hem of the t-shirt that sticks to his every muscle like second skin. A towel held up to his head to try and drain out the excess moisture. “I wasn’t expecting company so I hopped in the shower, I was ignoring the knocking until I saw the text to say it was you.”

“Yeah, I,” her tongue swipes at her parched lips, and she blinks away the daze he always seems to cast upon her. “I figured we need to talk.”

He takes an eager step forward, gesturing over to his couch and waiting for her to perch down uncomfortably on the edge before he sits on the cushion beside her - keeping a respectable distance between the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he seems nervous, and it makes her chest feel tight. “I wanted to apologise for the other day. I pretty much cornered you when you asked me for space and I didn’t mean to push you. Especially when you weren’t feeling great. If it helps, my mom laid into me when I drove her back to her hotel.”

“It’s alright,” she squeaks out, meekly, thinking that maybe if she lets him off the hook for that, he’ll let her off the hook for this.

“It’s not. I’ve dealt with this whole thing so wrong, I need you to know I didn’t mean what I said that night in your apartment. Y’know, about-,” he shakes his head as if trying to gather his thoughts, “About what we did. I don’t think we made a mistake. I made one, with how I handled everything after, I-,” she knows she shouldn’t let him ramble on, shouldn’t let him think she needs him to beg for her forgiveness before he knows the full extent of what he’s asking, but she’s spent 4 weeks imagining what he might want to say to her, and she wants to hear it. “You were right the other day, I haven’t been a good friend to you, Poppy, I was selfish and you deserve better. You deserve to make your own decisions and I’m sorry I took that from you.”

Poppy is usually better at catching herself before she cries in front of anyone else - the warning signs of an ache at the back of her throat and the corner of her eyes stinging coming up in advance - but this time, her lip starts to tremble before she’s able to get a grasp on her emotions, and a sob racks through her before she throws her head into her hands.

“Whoa, hey,” she feels a large, warm hand stroking at her back, and feels the couch dip as Nico shuffles closer to her, their knees knocking and his arm swinging around her shaking body. “Please don’t cry,”

“I’m so sorry,”

“No, Poppy, you have nothing to be sorry for-“

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.” She cries, her voice strained as if she’s choking back another sob as she looks up at him, arms cradling herself for a slight reprieve of comfort.

“Why would I be mad?” He questions, his arm still rubbing soothingly at hers as she unravels in front of him. “What’s going on, Poppy? I’m worried about you,”

“Do you promise me you won’t hate me?”

“Mohn,” Nico sighs, running his spare hand through his still-damp hair and making sure it stays slicked back. 

“Please?”

“I could never hate you,” He assures her, and, as resolute as he sounds, she tilts her head, urging him to say what she wants to hear. “I promise.”

She takes a second to even out her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until she no longer feels like she’s about to implode, and Nico waits, watching with his own bated breath.

“I uhm,” she takes a shaky inhale, trying to build the courage to come out and just say it, but her mouth just bops open like a fish, the words refusing to come out. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the handful of tests she had haphazardly stashed in there, before reaching forward and dropping them carelessly onto the coffee table - the plastic scattering across the surface and making a clattering sound against the solid wood.

Nico’s eyes drop to the sticks that are splayed out in front of him, his own words failing him as if he daren’t speak them into existence. His eyes close a few times in forced, hard blinks, as if he’s trying to determine the reality of the situation, and he reaches out to take one of them in his hand before she presses her shaky fingers to his arm in an attempt to stop him.

“I peed on those, I wouldn’t touch ‘em.”

He ignores the warning, picking up another, bringing them up to his face so he can read what he must already know they all say. The dim light of his living room does little to mask the shock on his face.

“You’re-,” his words drift off, and his eyes flicker back to the two tests left.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice cracks as she says it, holding back a choking sob that strains her throat. She can no longer stomach the thought of not saying it out loud.

Silence lingers between them like a rubber band, ready to snap. She can feel every liquid ounce of blood rushing through her body, can probably hear the whoosh of it, too, if she focuses hard enough, and she thinks she can see a vein pop in his neck.

“Please say something.”

“It’s mine?”

Their eyes meet, his round and concerned, her’s glassy and afraid, and all she can do is nod.

She doesn’t take offence to the question, knowing he has every right to ask what he needs to. She’s spent the last hour trying to prep herself for the possibility of what he might ask, for an onslaught of potential accusations and finger-pointing.

Even if she only took the tests today, she’s had days to think about this. To ask her own questions, fathom her own feelings, she owes him the leniency to do the same. 

She and Nia had gone through some pretty serious breathing exercises before she drove Poppy out here just to calm her down in preparation for it all. 

“I haven’t been with anybody else.”

“I didn’t use protection,” he stares blankly ahead as he speaks, as if he’s running through the events of that night in his head, the tests still clutched between his thumb and fingers. She shakes her head, and hopes he can see the action in his peripheral, because her tongue currently feels like a paperweight in the dead centre of her mouth, and she probably couldn’t speak if she tried. “And you’re not-,” he seems just as much at a loss, “Protecting yourself?”

If it were anyone else asking her that kind of question, she thinks she’d be a little more on edge, but she knows he isn’t asking to shame her. 

Still, she can’t help the guilt that racks through her entire body. “I was trying a new birth control last year, and it uhm-,” she exhales a shuddered breath, “It didn’t really work for me, so I stopped. I was due back to see my doctor around Christmas, but I pushed it back, and then I- I forgot.” Tears line her eyes again, glossing them over completely until a fat droplet falls straight down her cheek and drips down onto her leg.

“Holy shit.”

She can’t exactly blame him for that response, either. She had said the exact same thing. Nia had even reacted the same way.

“I’m so, so sorry, Nico,” she tries to suppress a sob, but can’t stop the onset of tears, now, her head falling into her hands as her body begins to tremble.

Nico pulls Poppy into him immediately, his arms wrapping around her shaking frame, and he presses his head into the top of hers. Large hands stroke comfortingly up and down her back, trying to hold her as tight as is comfortable so she knows he’s there for her, shushing her and taking slow, measured breaths in the hopes her body instinctively copies him. 

Her body melts into his, soaking up his warmth until it eases all the tension in her muscles, and all she tries to focus on is the rhythmic motion of his touch on her spine.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mohn,” he mutters into her temple, pressing his lips in a gentle kiss to the skin there. “It’s gonna be okay, please don’t cry.”

He sways her gently, lifting a hand to stroke her hair and keeps her in his hold until she starts to properly calm down - sobs becoming sniffles, tremors becoming the occasional shake, and her breaths evening out so she no longer seems like she’s hyperventilating.

Somewhere in her panic, she had taken to clutching at his shirt, the fabric bundled up so tight between her fingers that they start to ache, and she can feel the sharp press of her own nails in her palms. She lays them flat against his chest, ignoring the growing sting she feels when she applies pressure to the crescent-shaped indents, and uses him for leverage to push herself back a little - only going far enough that she can still feel his arms around her, even if they’ve loosened up a little.

She must look a complete mess - lips swollen, nose snotty, eyes red-raw - but he looks at her only with concern rather than any kind of disgust. He brings a hand forward to swipe at the remaining dampness on her cheek, and keeps it there to cup the side of her jaw, stroking tenderly at her face just as he had done the other day, when she had felt like she was floating out of her body and he had grounded her.

“You took those today?” He gestures towards the sticks that are still on the table, the others that had been in his grasp before discarded somewhere into the cushions of the couch when he had taken her into his arms. She nods, meeting his dark eyes and watching as they flicker between the features of her own face. “You didn’t know when we spoke the other day?”

She shakes her head, vehemently. “I wouldn’t have tried to push you away if I’d have even thought I could be pregnant Nico, I swear. I thought I was just sick.”

“You would have had every right to push me away, Poppy.” 

“I came here as soon as I knew for sure.” She places her hand over his, her thumb swiping over the knuckles on his hand and her fingers curling around his own digits. “I mean, I was kind of losing my mind so it took me 13 positives to know, but-,”

“You took 13 tests?” When she takes note of his face, he seems like he’s trying to fight a smile. She hadn’t even realised before. 

13 positives to finally convince her, and a baby the size of a Poppy seed, it was always meant to be.

“14 technically, but one was negative,” her lips twist then in slight embarrassment. “I even made Nia take one.”

“Nia knows?”

The would-be smile drops immediately, and the frown that forms on his face almost stops her heart in its tracks. 

“I needed somebody to hold my hand, Nico.” She reasons, head tilting and trying to meet his eyes again, his hand drops from her face, hers falling limply with it, and the look he gives her back is one of resigned acceptance. 

“It should have been me,” he mutters, and when she parts her lips to respond, he shakes his head, “I know I’m the one who hurt you and pushed you away, Poppy, I just-,” he sighs, he isn’t trying to blame her, he’s trying blame himself. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

She threads her fingers through his again, bringing their hands between them and holding his firmly in her lap. “I would have come to you, Nico, I just didn’t want to stress you out if it turned out to be negative.”

“Even after what I did?” His voice is the one that’s strained, now, and the sound plucks straight at her heart strings. 

He had hurt her - she knows he understands that - but she doesn’t want him to hurt. She’s never wanted that for him. And with the regret in his eyes and the conflict in his tone, she sees that they’ve both been hurting regardless of what she wanted, so she nods. 

If she had been left to her own devices, earlier - if the baby shower hadn’t conjured up so much anxiety that she erupted on her best friend - she would have ended up in this exact spot. Poppy knows that with everything in her. She would always have come to him.

When she had had her not-so-mini meltdown with Nia earlier, it was his reassurance she craved. 

“You wouldn’t have stressed me out.” He tells her, squeezing back at her hand, and she knows he isn’t putting on a brave face just to make her feel better. “In fact, I feel weirdly calm right now.”

“Yeah, I think you might have calmed me down, too.”

His constant touch, his serene demeanour, he’s done everything in him to make her feel relaxed.

He hasn’t raised his voice, hasn’t pushed her away, hasn’t blamed her or shamed her or made her feel like she is a burden in any way.

He’s just held her in his arms and told her it will be okay, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to show him how much she appreciates it.

She had made herself entirely hysterical with an abundance of what ifs and hypotheticals that she knew in her heart he would never live up to. 

If she had been thinking rationally at all, earlier, she’d have known he wouldn’t get mad, wouldn’t hate her, wouldn’t react in any way other than the way he has. With tender-hearted acceptance and love born from empathy and the long-withstanding trust they share for each other.  

Her mind had spiralled so far beyond the realm of possibility that it had created a version of him in her head that he would never be. One that would have shut her out, left her to deal with her emotions alone. Even when he’d pushed her away the last time, she had been the one to shut the door.

“I-,” he starts to say something, but is interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the coffee table. “Why is Nia calling me?”

“Shit,” Poppy curses, shooting up and dropping his hand in the process, “She’s waiting downstairs for me, she was gonna drive me home.” She pats around her pockets before realising her phone isn’t in them, and it dawns on her she must have left it in the passenger seat of Nia’s car - a really useful spot for it to be.

“It’s alright,” Nico focuses more on consoling her than answering the call, and it rings out before he remembers he should probably have picked it up. “She’s parked on the street?”

“Yeah, right out front.”

“Wait here,” he commands with gentle authority, a hand on her shoulder pushing her softly back down onto the couch. “We need to talk about this, I don’t want you to be home alone, you can stay here tonight,”

“Maybe I sh-,”

“I’ll go down and tell her,” he says with finality, leaving the living area in search of a hoodie he can shrug on. 

“Nico, she isn’t exactly your biggest fan right now,” Poppy warns, following him toward the door to his apartment with a slight bout of panic.

If he goes out there, there’s no telling what Nia might say to him. She’s been on one for weeks about how disappointed she has been in him, and he could be marching straight into the firing line without a clue as to what is waiting for him out there. And he might return with his defences raised.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes, just make yourself comfortable, okay?”

He doesn’t really give Poppy much of a choice before he’s dashing out of his apartment, and she doesn’t exactly have the energy to chase him.

She steps back around the couch, feeling a little out of place again as he has, for the second time in one night, left her to her own devices in his space.

She starts to pace, feet padding softly around the pattern of the rug, focused entirely on matching up her steps to the patches within the fabric until she starts to get dizzy.

Then, she finds herself looking around again. Snooping around shelves, eyeing up the cabinet where he keeps odd bits of Devils memorabilia, newspaper cut outs of his biggest games and even a patch of a Switzerland jersey framed in dark wood. 

The rest of the space is minimal, as she had taken notice of before. A couple generic pieces of artwork, nothing too personal anywhere other than that cabinet. A large mirror hung on the wall, that she doesn’t really want to look in, through fear of catching sight of her ghastly reflection, but something else captures her attention in it, entirely.

She turns quicker than she probably should, and her lips part as she steps closer to the wall that had been behind her.

She’d been too focused on her thoughts before - hadn’t noticed it in her initial snooping.

A landscape canvas, framed in the same dark wood as everything else he had in the room that had been a personal touch, large enough to be the only artwork on that wall - a focal piece in the heart of his apartment.

A patch of dainty red flowers seemingly waving in the breeze beside a picturesque coastal view, peaceful waters and some tiny sailboats in the background.

And beneath it, a small plaque just above the base of the frame that reads; Childe Hassam. Poppies, Isles of Shoals, 1891. 

Nico

Nico has never really given much thought to having children, before.

He doesn’t have any problem with kids - he enjoys his mentoring sessions, loves meeting the kids who come to games donning his name on their back and looking at him like he’s their hero, and will always go out of his way to meet fans if he hears there’s a bunch of kids excited to meet him.

But being a part of one of the youngest teams in the leagues means he doesn’t exactly have a lot of dad friends. Sure, a couple of the guys have kids - they bring them to games, to team events and he’s met his fair share of them at family skates, but he isn’t that actively involved in any of their lives.

Whenever he pictures his future, it’s really just hockey. It’s captaining his team all the way to lifting the cup, it’s winning gold in the Worlds or the Olympics, representing his beloved home country and succeeding at the top level with his friends.

And if he’s ever thought about anything outside of that, it’s just been experiencing as many new things as he can before he doesn’t have those kinds of opportunities anymore. Travelling, flitting around Europe with his friends back home, climbing mountains, going to festivals, trying his hand at whatever sport he can. 

He’s never had any inclination for that to change.

Until the thought of having children with Poppy fell into his lap. Or onto his coffee table in the form of a handful of positive pregnancy tests.

And once the initial shock had subsided, once his brain had comprehended the switch between missing her and screaming not to let her go, he had found comfort in the concept of knowing that something about his future was now an almost-certain.

Poppy will be a part of it.

And he will be a part of hers.

It’s with the conviction of those facts that he finds himself jogging across the street to Nia’s Mazda with misplaced confidence. 

Poppy had tried to warn him that she wouldn’t be welcoming and he had shrugged it off, knowing already how pissed her best friend was going to be with him.

A couple nights after she had kicked him out of her apartment, in the depths of his despair and on a lonely evening in a hotel room in Tampa, all he could think of doing to make himself feel better after a loss was to check up on her. Every time he had tried to see her at the Rock the first few days that week before they had gone on the road, she had practically ran the other way, and so as he lay in his hotel bed, muscles aching, mind racing, heart hurting, he had taken to stalking her instagram to see what she had been up to while he had been away.

Her story had been of Nia, the two of them had gone together to get their nails done, and when Nico had clicked on where Nia was tagged in the hope that maybe she had posted a picture of Poppy, it had taken him to a private account he no longer had the privilege of following. 

She had removed him. 

And as he raps his knuckles against her car window, he can see why. 

She’s angry.

“I didn’t call you so that you’d come down here, I called to check on my best friend.” She snaps, the brisk winter air invading her car and making the annoyed huff she gives come out in a misty cloud.

“She’s fine, she’s gonna stay over-,”

“Like hell she is,” she goes to unbuckle her belt, and when she reaches for the handle of the door to open it, Nico promptly pushes it back shut. “Let me out.”

“Come on, Nia,” Nico sighs, “Poppy’s okay, I got her to calm down and we need to talk about things, I don’t want you having to wait out here all night until we do.”

“Right, ‘cause the last time you two had a sleepover, it turned out so well for her.”

Nico finds himself clenching his jaw, not in anger but in shame. Yet another reminder from another person just how much he has messed this all up. 

“I’m gonna wait here until I know this is what she wants to do,” Nia holds out Poppy’s phone, and Nico takes it, immediately thrusting it into the warmth of his pocket. “You make sure she texts me so I know you’re not holding her hostage up there. We have a code. If she doesn’t send it to me in the next five minutes, I’ll literally scale your building to find you and make you hurt in ways you can’t even comprehend.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

He misses the way Luke had subtly threatened him back in the locker room. That was a lot less violent, and while he had taken it seriously at the time, he was a lot less scary than Nia.

She narrows her eyes at him, and he tries to morph his face into one that reflects the gravity of the situation.

He has no intentions of ever making her sad again. He knows that. Hell, Nia probably knows that deep down.

“Thank you for being there for her.” He knows it’s a risky thing to say - Nia and Poppy have been friends since their childhood, there would never be a question over her being there for Poppy - but he’s hoping that she understands what he’s trying to get at. “With the tests and all, holding her hand. I’m glad she has you.”

“You won’t be glad if you don’t get back upstairs in time,” she shoos him away with the flick of her hand, and before he can fully jog back across the street, she calls back out to him. “Hey Nico,” he turns and watches as she leans out of her window a little, voice shouting out as if she has no worries about the repercussions of threatening him so brazenly, “If you ever make my best friend cry again, there isn’t a corner of this Earth that you’ll be safe in, do you understand?”

“I understand.” He nods, before he dashes back into the safety of his building. 

Despite the visceral way in which his life has just been threatened, he finds himself walking with a newfound spring in his step, bounding through the lobby and sending Lionel a friendly salute as he passes him, the old man shaking his head fondly in return.

The elevator flies straight up to his floor, and he’s back inside the warmth of his apartment in no time - all that much warmer now that he has his favourite girl back inside.

“Have you ever seen the movie Taken?” He huffs as he pulls off his hoodie, his head popping out of the neck of the garment in a way that makes his hair fluff out. “I’m telling you, Nia could give Liam Neeson a run for his money. She’s scary.”

He finds Poppy stood in his living room, staring at the wall - not exactly where he had left her but she’s never been one to sit still for too long.

“Poppy?”

“I like your painting.” Her voice is much softer than it had been, before. A little deeper, less strained, like she’s found comfort and isn’t as anxious to speak anymore, which delights him just a little. The energy in the room has shifted since he had left, and what he has returned to is comfortable and serene.

He steps in line beside her, eyes cast upon the canvas she is admiring, and he feels his lips twitch upward. “My mom got it for me,” he chuckles, stepping just the slightest bit closer. “She said my place lacked character.”

She had said some other things, too, about how she’d seen the painting and it had immediately reminded her of him and how it would bring some much needed colour to his apartment, and make it feel more like home but saying those things feels like overkill, and he thinks he’s shared enough for now.

Plus, Poppy knows what the painting means, she doesn’t need him to spell it out for her.

He needs to keep some of his dignity in tact.

“Sounds about right,” Poppy mutters with an astute smile.

The silence that falls between the two of them is one of familiarity and understanding, and he nudges playfully at her side before stepping away.

“I told Nia you’d be staying here. She says you need to text her your code before she murders me.”

“How long did she give you?”

“Five minutes,”

“Dang,” she checks the time quickly on the screen, “I think I might have forgotten it.”

“You’re not funny, Poppy.” He responds, but he’s sure the fond shake of his head and the way he battles the oncoming smile gives him away. “You have a minute left before I’m snatching that back and assuming your code is please don’t kill my baby daddy.”

“That’s a good one.” The smile she gives this time is tired, and for the first time all night, he takes in just how exhausted she looks. Shoulders slumped, shadows under her eyes, slow blinks every time she looks up at him. 

He watches as she types her message to Nia, a feeling of contentment settling in the pit of his stomach despite the intensity of the situation.

She’s here. She’s making jokes. She’s looking him in the eye and smiling like he never hurt her.

She’s carrying his baby.

However small it might be, a part of him is growing within her, and she doesn’t seem all that perturbed by the idea.

He knows that there’s a lot more to talk about, for him to think about even, but he’s content for now just knowing that.

“I think you should get some sleep,” he suggests, his tone comforting and his cadence smooth, “We can talk more tomorrow, but you look beat, Poppy.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really been sleeping right lately.”

“You can take my bed,” he offers, “My mattress is like sleeping on a cloud,”

“No, I can’t kick you out of your bed,”

“I’ll sleep in the spare, it’s fine,”

“No, I’ll sleep in there, I don’t mind!”

“I shoved a kit bag in there before we broke up for All-Stars, before I got the chance to get it washed, I don’t think you’ll get on too well with how that room smells, Poppy.”

“Oh,” she pouts, an adorable frown forming on her face as Nico finds himself almost blushing at the sight of it. “Gross.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Do you want me to make you anything before you go to sleep?”

“Were you gonna eat?”

“No, I was gonna head to bed early, I have an early morning training session with a couple of the guys. But I don’t mind cooking for you if you’re hungry,”

“No, that’s fine,” she shakes her head, looking up at him with a soft smile, “Nia and I ate before she brought me here. Are you sure you want me to stay if you have plans?”

“Yeah,” he answers with shameless urgency, “I’ll be back early, I can bring you breakfast.”

She bites at the corner of her mouth like she usually does when she’s thinking too much, and he reaches out to swipe his thumb at the side of her chin to pull her lip from the clutches of her teeth.

“I want you here, Poppy. I want to talk about this properly, after you’ve had a good night’s rest and you’re not upset.”

“Okay.” She breathes, “I’ll stay.”

“C’mon, I’ll find you something to wear to bed.”

He holds out his hand, expecting her to swerve it and grasp at his arm instead, but she slides her fingers between his and lets him guide her through his apartment to his bedroom. 

When they’re both inside, he manoeuvres her to sit on the edge of his bed while he looks through his closet, and comes back out with some boxers and an old t-shirt. Poppy always wears shorts when she’s at home, and he figures she’ll be more comfortable in these than any sweatpants he could find. “Here you go, I promise they’re clean.”

“I trust you,” she snorts as she takes the garments from his clutches and stands to change in his en-suite. 

Nico follows her in, and when she turns to question him, he opens up the medicine cabinet above his sink. “I don’t have a toothbrush for you but I have spare heads for mine,” he offers one out to her from the pack, one that has a blue band at the bottom so she’ll be able to tell the difference when she takes the head he uses off.  “There’s soap in there too, and clean washcloths if you wanna take a shower. But if you need anything just let me know and I can pick it up for you on my way home in the morning.”

Before he can step back to head out, Poppy throws her arms around him, discarding the clothes he had given her to the floor and pressing her body firmly into his. 

His own arms circle around her waist, tightening around her frame as his large hands press into her back to keep her close. She’s raised up on her tip toes, her face is shoved into his neck, and he presses his lips to the side of her head, closing his eyes to bask in how good it feels and taking a deep breath of the faint smell of her coconut shampoo.

She pulls away after a minute or two with a quiet sniffle, but only puts a little distance between them before she looks up at him with tears brimming her eyes again.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Poppy,” he reaches a hand to wipe at a stray tear, “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“I was really scared earlier,” she hiccups out, “I was driving myself crazy, I was driving Nia crazy, and I-,” her lip trembles, and she shakes her head as if to rid herself of the onslaught of emotions, “I should have just come straight to you. I’m sorry you weren’t the first to know.”

“Hey, no,” he gently grabs either side of her face, stroking at her cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, “You have nothing to be sorry for, I mean it.”

“But I-,”

“I like how you told me.” He affirms to her - and as much as he had wanted to be the first person who knew, earlier, he knows he means it. Nia is Poppy’s person, if there was one other person in the world he would be okay with knowing over him, it would be her. As much as he likes to think he would have been able to make her feel better in the moment if she was panicking, he doesn’t entirely know if he wouldn’t have panicked himself if things weren’t already confirmed. If he would have slipped up and made her feel worse or said something stupid. “You throwing your little pee sticks down onto my coffee table like some kind of performance art and telling me not to touch them after I already had. It’s kind of funny.”

She giggles, glassy eyes crinkling in the corners until they push a tear that runs into his thumb.

She places her own hands on top of his. “You still haven’t washed your hands, by the way.”

“Shit, sorry,” he grimaces, immediately taking them off of her skin. “I’ll let you get ready, I’m across the hall if you need anything, and I should be back before 11. I’ll bring you whatever you’re hungry for.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to vomit everywhere in the morning while I wait for you to come home.”

Come home. His feels like his heart does a somersault in his chest, bouncing off of each rib that protects it in its place, and the feeling reverberates throughout his entire body.

“I appreciate that.”

He takes a hold of her face again, his fingers tucked behind her ears as he pulls her head to his lips, pressing a firm and affectionate kiss to her crown, just like he used to whenever they said goodbye.

And in a way that melts his thumping heart, she does the same, bringing his face down to her lips to press them into the warm skin of his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Nico,” she hums, her eyes sparkling and her lips spread into a fond smile.

“Sweet dreams, Mohn,” he replies, feeling the press of the dimples in his cheeks and the rush of blood to his head.

When he retreats to his spare bedroom, and collapses onto the firmer-than-he-would-like mattress, he can’t stop the surprising curve of his lips, a soft smile etching itself into his features that feels like it could be a permanent fixture.

He should be terrified. His heart should be beating out of his chest, he should have broken out in a cold sweat and not been able to form words. He should be panicked out of his mind and sick to his stomach.

But there’s a girl he loves more than anything laying in his bed in the room beside his, she’s wearing his clothes, her head is on his pillow, she is wrapped up in his sheets, and she is carrying his baby.

And despite never picturing much of this part of it before, he can see a glimpse of his future ahead of him. 

A future where Poppy’s belly grows round and presses into his whenever she’s close enough that he can pull her into him. A future where tiny sticky hands press into one side of the plexiglass while he’s out warming up on the ice, and his  large, gloved hand presses to the other. A future where he comes home to find her battling sleep with a snoring baby held to her chest, highlights playing with lowered volume on the TV, and they’d snuggle up together until they both pass out, and he gets up to do the middle of the night feed-and-change so that Poppy gets her rest.

And all those worries he had before about never being enough for her fade to nothing, because now he has no choice. 

If Poppy can grow a little human with a tiny beating heart, who is half of him, and half of her, then he can step up for her. 

Whatever she needs him to be, whatever she wants him to be, he’ll be it - and he’ll be it with this same lovesick smile that he now can’t shift. 

So with a content sigh, and a deep longing for the girl laying not even 20 feet away from him, he falls asleep for the first time in 4 weeks at peace with his actions.

—

Over the last four weeks, Nico has spent way too much time retracing his steps to the point where he had so royally screwed things up with Poppy that she had wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. So when he wakes up the next morning before the sun shows any signs of rising - when he quickly gets himself ready to head off to practice, sneaking through his room to go brush his teeth, planting a minty kiss to the sleeping girl��s forehead and making sure she has something to drink for when she wakes up - he places a note beside the glass of water on his nightstand, in preparation for when she wakes up.

This time, he won’t leave her to wake up without him without some sort of explanation. Without an assurance that he’ll be back as promised, and that he can’t wait to see her, and that she should text him when she wakes up and let him know what isn’t going to turn her stomach and he’ll get it for her.

Which is why, when he checks his phone after his training session at the arena gym finishes at 9:30, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach when nothing is there.

It’s still early, he tells himself after a quick shower. She might still be asleep, he thinks as he packs up his toiletries, sets his things aside to be washed and tries to act like his thoughts aren’t eating him alive. She might not have seen the note, he convinces himself as he does a quick round of the grocery store - grabbing her some essentials and replenishing some of the basics he knows he is low on anyway. She wouldn’t have left, he thinks as he watches the numbers go up in the elevator, his feet tapping against the floor nervously as he awaits his stop. 

And when he makes it into his apartment, and she isn’t on his couch, isn’t in the kitchen, isn’t in the bed where he had left her that morning, he starts to panic - until he hears something through the closed door of his bathroom. 

“Poppy?” He asks softly before pushing the door open to see her sat on her knees on the floor beside his toilet, sticky hair matted to her paled skin, and bleary eyes looking weakly up at him. He sinks down beside her, perches himself on his knees and pushes the strands of hair off her forehead and out of her face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“My phone died,” her voice is strained, and he doesn’t need to look into the toilet bowl to know why. “I tried to find a charger but I couldn’t get up without feeling sick.”

He hadn’t even thought to get her one when he had left her in here last night. “I’ll get you one,” but when he goes to push himself off the ground, she wraps her shaking fingers around his wrist.

“Could you just sit with me for a little?” She asks, “I know I’m gross but I just need you to hold my hair if it happens again, I didn’t bring a hair tie.”

“Of course,” he lowers himself back to the ground beside her, “C’mere,” he swings an arm over her shoulders, pulling her body into his until her head falls weakly into the crook of his neck. He strokes at her hair gently, tucking it behind her ears where she can and trying to soothe her into some sort of comfort. “Have you been here all morning?”

She nods, and he lowers his other arm to tuck his hand under her legs, unbending them as best as he can and stretching them out over his own so that she won’t loose the feeling in them. 

They stay like that for a while, her taking deep breaths to alleviate the nausea and him stroking tranquilly at whatever parts of her he can reach. The soft skin of her thighs and the outsides of her knees with one hand, the slope of her neck and the curve of her shoulder with the other. One of her arms stays bent between them, but the other stretches out in an attempt to touch him back, languidly resting on his torso and occasionally her fingers dance lightly across the fabric of his t-shirt with just enough pressure to make his stomach clench in anticipation.

“You should take a shower,” he suggests after peeking down at her to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. “You might feel better.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Doesn’t feel right to chirp a pregnant woman, Poppy.”

The laugh she gives him in return feels like a cherished gift, and his chest swells with pride when she looks up at him and her eyes glimmer under the overhead lights. 

“I got you some things from the store.”

He had spent almost 5 minutes trying to find coconut scented shampoo and conditioner, unscrewing several bottles and trying not to get caught, but he won’t be telling her that.

“And here I was counting my lucky stars you have such an extensive hair wash routine all morning.” She jibes, pointing over to the toiletries inside Nico’s shower. “If you were a 5-in-1 guy I would have seriously reconsidered our friendship.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about that, wait here.”

He goes to retrieve one of the bags he had discarded when he got in, and takes it back to Poppy in his bathroom before emptying it out onto the counter beside the sink.

Shampoo, conditioner, a hairbrush, a new toothbrush, deodorant, some face wipes, an unscented body wash, and a packet of anti-nausea medication he had specifically asked the pharmacist for with the assurance it was okay for pregnant women. 

“Oh wow, I must be that bad.”

“Not at all, I just wanted you to feel more comfortable.” He reassures her, and opens a drawer below the sink to get her a washcloth and a fresh bar of soap. “There’s clean towels in the cupboard behind you. And if you want to raise the pressure of the shower, it’s the dial at the top, temperature at the bottom.”

“Got it. Thank you, Nico,” she smiles, and Nico smiles back at the sincerity in her eyes.

“I’m gonna put together something to eat while you’re in there. You don’t have to eat if you don’t feel like it, but is there anything you think you can stomach?”

“Something cold,” she requests, swiping at the packet of medication and curiously reading the label, “That doesn’t have any kind of smell.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckles, “I’ll put some fresh clothes on my bed, just call out if you need me, yeah?”

Poppy nods, and gives him a little salute with a pill packet between her fingers. 

Something cold that doesn’t have any smell.

He had got her fruit from the store - strawberries and pre-cut watermelon, Pink Lady apples because he knows they’re the only kind she will eat - as well as yoghurt, some cereal, some bagels and some eggs and bacon. The eggs and bacon are out of the question, as much as he’d want to make himself a decent breakfast bagel after his training session, but the rest of it seems pretty safe.

He cuts up the fruit anyway, even if she won’t eat it now, he can always send it home with her later. He puts the yoghurt in the fridge so it will stay as cold as possible - he had gotten her coconut flavour, remembering how she had once said it was her favourite, but only the greek type that has the taste of coconut but not the texture. He leaves the bagels to the side, thinking that toasting them and potentially burning them is a little too risky without asking her first, and lays the boxes of cereal in a row on his counter so that she has her choice of the bunch if she wants some.

The pharmacist had recommended ginger shots to help with the sickness, but Nico has tried one too many of those on their own before, and they would make even the healthiest person gag, so he had bought some pre-made smoothies to mix them into. He decides he’ll leave her to pick, and blend it over some ice when she isn’t looking.

And as he flits around his kitchen without giving any of these things a second thought, he feels for the first time in a long time like he has thing figured out.

He can so do this. He can look after her like it’s just second nature to him. He can pick up whatever she needs from the store without panicking down every aisle and googling what is or isn’t okay for her. He can sit and hold her hair while she pukes her guts up and not get freaked out by it even in the slightest. He can go to practice, go to training, go to games, and come home and care for her like how she deserves.

He can do it with his hands tied behind his back, he feels.

He’s full of bravado, and hope, and excitement, and it’s a tornado of feelings that plough straight through whatever he had been feeling before - doubt and anxiety and insecurity.

The only thing that remains is regret.

Regret for what he had done to her, what he had said, the way he had ended things. All of it seems so stupid now. It seems so impulsive and he feels like he had been so blind. 

Blinded by uncertainty, blinded by self-doubt, blinded by the poison spewed by Talia that he wasn’t good enough for anyone.

He should have listened to that tiny voice within him that had told him he could have been good enough for Poppy. Then he would never have hurt her. Would never have spent 4 weeks longing for her and hoping things could be different. 

“You’re gonna have to get me a key cut,” her voice rings down the hall before she appears on the other side of his kitchen island, donning sweatpants that she has had to fold at the waist and a sweatshirt where the arms hang beyond the tips of her fingers. Her hair is damp, her feet are bare, and she looks like she belongs. “I don’t ever want to use another shower in my life.”

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles as he leans down onto the countertop, watching her as her feet pad closer, “I sometimes just stand in there for a good five minutes when I’m done, the pressures nice when I’m all achey after a game.”

“I bet, if I didn’t feel hungry for the first time in 2 weeks, I would have stayed in there for like an hour.”

“You feel better?”

“So much better.” She smiles up at him, leaning over the counter and cupping his face with both hands. “You, Nico Hischier, are a gift from God for those pills.” 

She pulls him further over the island and plants a big, wet, somewhat minty kiss on his head, and he finds himself closing his eyes and breathing her in while she’s so close.

Where he expects to smell the coconut shampoo he had searched high and low for, he breathes in something different. Something familiar for an entirely different reason.

She smells fresh, like citrus-bergamot, and a little woody like cedar and musk.

She smells like him.

“The girl at the pharmacy said they should help short term until you can get in to see a doctor.” He tells her as he shakes himself out of whatever spell she had just cast on him.

“Thank you, Nico, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, straightening up and moving some of the fruit he had prepared to the counter between them. “I technically caused all of your problems.”

Her lips twist, and he watches as she lifts herself onto one of the stools, swivelling until she’s facing him properly and reaching out to take some of the watermelon. He makes his way over to the refrigerator while she chews on a piece.

“Did you get any-,” and before she can finish her sentence, he brings out the pot of coconut yoghurt and puts it down in front of her. “You’re good.”

“I know, it’s weird.” He leans back down and watches in amusement as she dips her watermelon into the yoghurt. “I was stressing a little on the way to the store about what I could get you, and then as soon as I got there it was like my legs just knew where to go.”

“Maybe you’re gonna be one of those sympathy-pregnancy kind of dads,” she smirks, and his knees start to feel a little like jelly at her use of the word, “Like your boobs will start to hurt and you’ll get all hormonal and cry at everything.”

“I don’t have boobs, Poppy.” He chuckles, reaching out to try watermelon dipped in yoghurt for himself. 

“You know what I mean.”

Poppy works her way through quite a bit of the fruit before she hangs in the towel, and he decides not to subject her to the ginger shot quite yet - her nausea having subsided enough already that it’s probably an unwarranted form of torture at this point.

She helps him put everything away, and the two of them work around each other in the kitchen like a well oiled machine. It feels completely normal to have her in his space. He doesn’t feel the need to busy himself with mundane tasks to occupy his hands or his mind, and she makes everything seem so easy - cracking jokes and making conversation like nothing else is happening in their world.

He could have had it this good this whole time, he thinks.

He could have it this good forever.

The reality of it dawns on him when they eventually make their way over to the couch, the pregnancy tests still discarded where they had left them the night before, two sticking out from the couch cushions and two remaining on his coffee table. He plucks one out from between the seams of his couch, still not caring much for where it has been before, and stares down at the two lines with the kind of smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

“Have you ever thought about it before?” Poppy asks, and as he watches her lean into the back of the couch, he gets the sense she’s starting to build her guard up in anticipation of a blow. “Having kids, I mean?”

“No,” he replies, honestly. “Not properly. Not beyond thinking, like, it might be nice.”

“Do you still think that?” She chews at the corner of her lip, “Is it something that you want?”

“It is now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I think it’s that I could never picture it happening, before. I’ve never really had anyone I could see myself doing it with.”

“Not even Talia?”

He cringes inwardly at even the mention of her name. “God, no.”

“Really?” She seems as if she doesn’t believe him entirely.

“She’s not-,” he starts, “We weren’t-,” he tries again, and his mind races with a hundred ways to say what he wants to say without Poppy thinking he’s an asshole. “I don’t know.”

“Nico, I really need you to be straight with me here.” She sighs, sitting up straight and shuffling a little closer to him.

“I’m always straight with you.”

“No offence, but I don’t think you are,” she says, and before he can even give a rebuttal, she adds, “It’s not that I think you keep things from me maliciously, but you don’t always give me the full picture, and I,” she takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders to prepare herself, “I jump to conclusions super easily, and I end up hurting myself when you don’t say whatever it is that you mean. And I think we can avoid all that if we’re just honest with each other. I don’t want us to get into dumb fights and it get in the way of us being friends again.”

He feels his heart come to a thunderous stop. Friends.

“If we’re gonna do this co-parent thing, we need to be honest about what we think and how we feel.”

Co-parents?

“Okay,” he responds, and it comes out like he’s on auto-pilot.

Okay? 

“I know she’s back in the picture, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“Back in the-“ He shakes his head, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. “What?”

“I heard you talking to her, before you left my apartment after we-,” Poppy gestures to her belly, where both nothing and everything has changed all at once, and Nico’s eyes get stuck there as she carries on. “Y’know, and then you broke things off, it hardly takes a genius to add it up.”

“Poppy, no.” He doesn’t remember ever being so direct with her. “No, no, no, that wasn’t-“ She had heard him? “I’m not-,” he takes a deep breath to alleviate the swirl of panic. He needs to be straight with her. “She got herself into some stupid mess, and she thought it was my fault but it wasn’t. I had to help her out, but she’s gone, she isn’t back in the picture, Poppy, I promise. I don’t even know if she was ever in the picture, I-.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

His eyes dart up to meet hers, and where he holds his breath in the anticipation of seeing how much she has been hurting, has been assuming the worst of him and thinking the littlest of herself, he sees everything he loves about her shining back at him. Patience, generosity, forgiveness. 

“After I left you without a word, and came back and ended things before they even began, would it have mattered?”

“Nico, this whole time I thought you shut things down because you wanted to be with her but you just-,” she shakes her head like she can’t bring herself to say the rest, and his throat starts to feel drier by the second.

How could he have ever been so stupid? He had thought he’d been miserable the past 4 weeks, second guessing his choices and wanting nothing more than to just talk to her, and she’s spent that whole time thinking he had discarded her like a used toy and gone back to someone else. Someone who could never compare to her in any universe.

“I really fucked this up, huh?”

“Yeah,” she nods, her lips twitching as the silence settles between them for a second.

He watches as she thinks for a second. Watches her brows furrow and relax, her eyes dart around to different spots between the, her bottom lip get tugged between her teeth, and released into a pensive pout, all before she says, “You can make it up to me,” and she gives a gentle and reassuring smile, reaches out for his hand and presses the soft pads of her fingers to his knuckles before pushing them through the spaces in between. 

Although it pains him to say it, he tells her, “You have to stop letting me off so easy, Poppy.”

“Trust me,” she says, “I won’t be letting you off easy. Us Jensen women are super scary when we’re hormonal. Super demanding and bratty.”

“I’ll take it.” He promises. “And I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”

“Right now I just need to know that you’re in this with me,” she requests, so vulnerable in her tone that is makes his chest ache.

He reaches up with his free hand and cups his palm around her soft cheek. “I’m in this,” he whispers, leaning into her and pressing his forehead to hers. “I can't begin to tell you how much I want it, Mohn.”

“Okay.” She whispers back, and when her eyes flutter closed at the proximity, and she surrenders to his touch, Nico gives in to his instincts.

Entirely caught up in the intimacy of the moment, he leans in, and when his mouth presses to hers, he feels the culmination of 4 weeks of longing, of missing her, of regretting everything, of anticipating seeing her, of worrying, of needing of wanting, explode into something vibrant and loud and inevitable.

It’s like a fireworks show, sparks of anxiety, of excitement, of hope and doubt and insecurity clashing together in pops and bangs and fizzes, raining down on him in a mixture of colour and sound. 

“Mmph-,” she squeaks out a protest as his lips meet hers, and despite his primal instinct to persevere, to give her a second to adjust to the kiss and to eagerly accept his advances, to bask in the beauty of it all like he is, he pulls straight away with a furrowed brow, eyes meeting hers in concern as he creates an inch of space between them. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think we should do that,” her eyes dart down, lashes fluttering as she avoids his gaze chasing hers back.

“Do what, kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t even feel ashamed at the way he practically whines when asking.

“Would you want to kiss me if I wasn’t pregnant?”

How could she possibly even doubt that? He thinks.

“I always want to kiss you, Poppy.” Again, it’s pointless to second guess those feelings. He’d told her something similar after the first time he had done it, and he had meant it as much back then as he does, now.

“Would you want to be with me?”

That isn’t a matter of want, but this time, he hesitates.

He’ll always want to be with her. 

He’s wanted nothing else the last four weeks they haven’t been talking. For the last few years he has known her. He wants to be with her when he’s alone in his apartment, when he’s away with the team, when he’s back home with his family, he has always wanted that.

And especially now that she’s carrying his baby, as minuscule as it currently may be, it’s going to grow in her belly with eyes that sparkle when it smiles and a brain that thinks exclusively in razor-sharp wit and biting sarcasm. 

“Poppy, I,” he sighs, knowing he can’t undo the damage he had caused that night in her apartment all those weeks ago. Even after clearing up her misconceptions on what was behind it, it doesn’t change what he said. That was never about not wanting her. It was about not wanting to hurt her. But every time he tries to explain it - to her, to Luke, to himself, even - he just sounds like an idiot. “I don’t know.”

He does now. Of course he knows, but something within him tells him that she won’t believe him this time when he tells her. There’s only so many excuses he can give for what he did.

“We can’t just be together because I’m going to have your baby, Nico, that’s not-,” she takes a shuddered breath. “I don’t want you to want to be with me because it’s convenient.”

“That isn’t what this is.”

“I don’t think you even know what you want,” she says, her tone light and comforting despite the harsh reality check being served, “And that’s okay, but I’m not gonna be a guinea pig for you to figure it out. That isn’t fair to me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that sometimes you make decisions in the heat of the moment when you might not mean or want them.”

Nico lets her words dawn on them for a second.

If only she knew how much that were true.

“I don’t say that to be an asshole, either, I just,” her tongue darts out to wet her lips, the ones he had pressed his own to barely a minute ago and hadn’t savoured enough while he was there. “Rushing into things is what got us into this, and I don’t want to,” her eyes meet his again and he holds his breath in anticipation. “I don’t wanna get hurt again. Especially not now.”

He wants to say he would never hurt her, but he can’t make promises like that when those are the thoughts that caused such a mess in the first place. 

He had hurt her before whether he intended to, or not, and what’s to say he isn’t going to fuck this up again along the way.

“I want this, too. I want it so much it drives me a little crazy, but it feels right. And I think there’s a way that we can do this where it might hurt a little now but it stops us hurting later down the line, where it has the potential to do some serious damage. Does that make sense?”

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe they can do this another way. A way where neither of them are left disappointed.

He gets his friend back, and she gets hers.

And they both get a baby.

A baby that has two parents who love each other more than anything in the world still. Who share so much of their lives together, but might never take that final leap into something more.

He nods, wordlessly. 

“I’m not saying that we can’t go back to how we were before, but we both let things get too intense, and I know I’m probably at fault for that, but I think we’ll be better off if we just take things slow.”

“Slow.” He repeats, like he’s trying to get a taste for the word. He doesn’t entirely like it, but he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would.

“Yeah, like being a little more cautious of how far we take things. We start as friends and see how we get on with that.”

“Like baby steps,” he mutters.

Poppy smiles. It’s the slow kind, that builds from something soft to something beaming, something beautiful, and turns into joyous laughter like music to his ears. It’s vibrant and wonderful, and it makes his heart ache all the more. “Yeah,” she lets out a breathy chuckle, “Exactly like baby steps.”

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)

[mesmerium]

seventeen mean so much to me, i’m actually so emotional. i think i talked about this already but quite literally seventeen saved my life. if you’re bored and want to read a whole essay about their impact on my life, here lmao

tw // depression, mentions of suicide (nothing graphic!)

i took leave from med school because my depression was so bad, even when i was getting good grades and had leadership positions (plural!!???) and was doing well in extracurriculars. these things honestly only served to worsen my mental state. the pressure i had put on myself, the insomnia i developed from being anxious all the time, the fear of failure and not being liked and being made fun of for trying too hard, etc. it all came to a head, and i had to make it stop. so i did. i took a leave of absence, and all of a sudden, after years and years of keeping myself too busy to think too much, too busy to contemplate, i had nothing to do but listen to my thoughts and wallow in sadness and emptiness. it wasn’t any better, and i had honestly lost any hope for myself. at that point i had been dealing with depression for more than a decade, and even while on medication i couldn’t bear to live anymore.

so i started writing goodbye letters to the few people that mattered to me. it wasn’t my first time, but i thought that it would be the last. there was a finality to everything i was doing. in february 2022, i attempted suicide. i prepared everything the night before, woke up early, and did it. but before i could do enough damage to myself, guilt seeped through me. i thought to myself, “it’ll be my dad’s birthday in a few days, it’s so selfish of me to be doing this before he could even celebrate.” so i dropped everything, patched myself up (thank god for med school materials amirite), and cried myself to sleep. that day, with nothing else to do, no energy for anything, i tried watching going seventeen.

i became a fan of seventeen in 2016, after pretty u promotions. i watched ofd and was obsessed with the going seventeen mini album when it came out. unfortunately i decided to drop kpop as a hobby for a bit because i was really busy and living my life, so it’s a little funny that my first step back into it was when i had nothing else to do after attempting lol. when i tell you it got me to laugh after a month of not being able to. i got invested, and it gave me something to do while i was waiting for my dad’s birthday to pass.

one night, a few days after my dad’s birthday, an ex who passed away in december 2021 visited me in my dreams. i asked him what he was doing in my dream, and he took me to visit his family home. he told me he was watching over his family before leaving completely. we chatted, and i asked him if i would regret going the same way he did. he told me that it is the way it is, and that he’s found peace where he is. it was up to me, he said. i woke up and cried, because i missed him, because i was glad that he was happy, because it felt like a sign that it was time for me too.

that night i attempted again. i felt myself floating, losing whatever it was that tethered me to my corporeal self. yet i am here still typing out this post in 2023. how and why? because a thought hit me, and i scrambled to get the wire off of my neck. “i won’t be able to watch going seventeen in the afterlife, if there was an afterlife at all.” it seems so goofy and insane, especially now while looking back, but it was enough to get me to panic and stop before i could succeed.

that’s how seventeen gave me something to live for. it sounds so inconsequential and dumb, yes, but when you’re teetering on the edge, the tiniest pull matters. my motivation from then on was to make it to wednesday to watch going seventeen, then if i wanted to die after that, so be it. but the desire to watch 13 men be goofy on camera, to see them with so much adoration and affection for each other and their fans, was so much greater. it helped me get through each week, and before i knew it weeks turned into months and months turned into a year. they filled me with so much love and inspiration, helped me get back up on my feet and feel normal again, gave me a community filled with kind, creative, and equally loving people from all over the world.

they’re not the answer to my problems, i know that. i’m still struggling. but without them i wouldn’t even be able to live to see the day that i overcome those problems. thanks to them, i found the will to better myself. thanks to them, i can look forward to what the future holds. i hope i am allowed the honor of knowing and loving them like this in every lifetime. ‘til the last say the name!!!

“It’s our first time living this life, so how can we be good from the beginning? Even I’m still having a hard time. Let’s learn together.” — Hoshi

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Yandere Debuff!Yuu Mini AU

Okay so Yandere Debuff Yuu. As it implies, Yuu’s afflicted with a negative status effect that makes them act as a yandere for a short amount of time. It’s kind of like getting afflicted with confusion or curse in a role-playing game except the debuff is triggered randomly and only lasts for a limited time. Of course, as much as I like Yuu getting screwed over, I also like them having a break so the Yandere Debuff also has a wee bit of advantages I can give so it’s not completely a debuff I guess but we’ll still call it a debuff anyway. 

Basically, the Yandere Debuff randomly picks a person within Yuu’s vicinity to be their “beloved”. In exchange, the character who gets ‘targeted’ basically gets an overpowered bodyguard. It’s a win-win, kind of.

An example of the debuff getting activated was when the braincell group were running away from the monster in the Dwarfs’ Mine. The debuff triggered and randomly chose Deuce as its target. Yuu immediately became smitten with him and ran beside Deuce and then picked him up to carry him princess-style because, “I can’t let you get hurt! Oh dear, your poor feet must be hurting from all the running. Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here quickly!” 

And with a sudden burst of stamina and strength, Yuu ran far ahead of Ace and Grim who watched them with wide eyes in disbelief.

“O-Oi! Yuu, don’t just leave us here! And why are you carrying Deuce?!”

“Henchhuman!  How dare you leave the great Grim here? Carry me, too!”

“Eh?” Deuce was simply too stunned to speak.

The Yandere Debuff’s time limit finished just as they got out from the mines, after which Yuu lost all their super strength and promptly dropped Deuce on the ground. 

Yuu refuses to acknowledge what happens every time after getting inflicted with the debuff. 

“Henchhuman, what just happened back there?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, Grim. You must’ve been imagining things.”

So anyway, there are instances where the debuff targets one of the overblot boys which makes saving them a bit harder when you have an overprotective yandere willing to fight the others for you but even when the debuff is active, Yuu can still be reasoned with so there’s that. Simply telling them that if the overblot isn’t stopped in time then their beloved’s life would be in danger does the trick. They’re quick to change sides just to save their beloved and being like: “This is hurting me more than it will hurt you! I’ll make this quick!”

Now I’m just imagining Chapter 6 but with Yuu punching their way through the metal doors and walls in S.T.Y.X.  just to get their beloved back. They’re ripping through the metal with their bare hands with intense ferocity and  no one can stop them. Idia’s looking at the surveillance cameras in terror, hoping Yuu doesn’t find him anytime soon.

Most of the time though the Yandere Debuff activates without anything major happening so there’s just these instances where Yuu tries to kidnap their beloved with varying success. 

Leona? Yuu’s sneaking away with him over their shoulder. Leona woke up the moment Yuu carried him but let them be since he was too lazy to go to class. Besides, Yuu actually tries to make Leona’s sleep as peaceful and comfortable as possible. Occasionally, Leona would demand for massages or buy him food which Yuu happily does so who’s really the one winning here?

Kalim? Yuu simply asks Kalim to follow them. That was it. Yuu can literally just go up to Kalim, take his hand into theirs and then tug him gently in their direction. Jamil has had to intervene multiple times to stop Yuu from disappearing with Kalim initially but now he’s just like, ‘lmao yeah sure go ahead take him just bring him back before dinner’. He trusts Kalim will be safe with Yuu because he knows they won’t let any harm come to Kalim when they’re in ‘their zone’ (and by zone, it means when Yuu’s afflicted with the debuff but not like anyone knows what it is aside from Yuu).

Ace? Yuu probably just casually walks up to the Heartslabyul student and cuffs him to them. Ace blankly looks at Yuu, then at the handcuffs locked around both their wrists, and then back at Yuu.

“Shit, is it my turn now?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, my love. You’ve always been the one for me.”

All things considered, Ace definitely knows how to use this situation to his advantage.

Perhaps along with getting the Yandere Debuff, Yuu gets an inventory which only they can access that’s full of the standard issue yandere starter kit: a signature weapon, ropes, cloths, gloves, chloroform… etc. But they haven’t ever used the other items that much (and will most likely not use it ever, thank you very much), except for the signature weapon. Pretty handy and useful, the thing is.

Anyway, Yandere Debuff Yuu.