#This chapter feels like filler but I'm keeping it

[allwormdiet]

Arc 9: Sentinel, Concluding Thoughts

Remarkably, an entire arc where the POV isn't Taylor Hebert is still a pretty bad time for those involved.

I like the Brockton Wards, mostly. Vista is by far my favorite of the bunch because she's cooler than all of them and also a middle schooler, and honestly that's super fucked up. I like Clockblocker, Weld, Flechette, I got a little annoyed with Kid Win being so down on himself but he was basically fine, and Shadow Stalker.

I'm sure we're going to get more Shadow Stalker in the next arc or two, unless they just bury her in wet cement next chapter which I kind of doubt, but I want it now because I am desperate to find out what the fuck happened to make her the kind of person who legit buys into alpha/beta crap to the point of murdering people over it. Taylor hasn't killed anyone yet and this entire serial is about how she justifies ever-increasing acts of violence to respond to problems caused in no small part by her previous acts of violence; Vista getting first blood before her is a fucking tragedy and Shadow Stalker having multiple kills notched is a horror story. I need this to make sense, and also if we can avoid more weird racist connotations in making sense of this that would be great.

Didn't love the Travelers fight, like I mentioned. The investment wasn't really there for me, there weren't really any stakes to it so the whole thing was just kind of a space filler.

Shocked that the Slaughterhouse Nine are being signposted as early as this, too. Not that I'd put it past them to be in the Bay within a month of Leviathan, but I continue to be surprised at Worm's pacing. I don't think I'm gonna love that part of the story but if I can hold my nose through every interaction with Coil, I can probably handle the Nine.

Vista is. Okay for real though, what the fuck is happening with the Protectorate/PRT and throwing this middle schooler into constant life-or-death situations. She was at Leviathan, which, okay sure, pull out all the stops when the alternative is complete annihilation, make the birthday girl kill a man to put fifteen seconds on the game clock while we're at it. She was at the Empire's murderous tantrum alongside other Wards and New Wave, which I guess is because she's one of the only heroes whose powers can keep up with all the flyers in the Empire? Still wild choice there. She was instrumental in the disarmament of Bakuda's magnum opus mega-EMP along with Clockblocker, and I know he's the big name for the team but why didn't they just put Armsmaster on that to tinker the problem away? I feel like putting EOD duty on the teenaged public figures is an incorrect call someone made. I'd love to find out who, and maybe throw pieces of brickwork at them while they have to hold still. Can somebody stop throwing this girl into horrific combat scenarios as a government-employed child?

I'm going to keep pointing and laughing at Coil though, because the man is literally only succeeding at his infiltration of the PRT because they're letting him, and now he's only going to have a Ward as his own personal mole because they're letting him. Man wants to control an entire city and the whole thing would collapse if a single government organization stopped letting him take Ws he thought he earned.

I want to read those summaries of the studies done on that Dallon-Pelham clan though. Desperate to know if whatever insane WASP nuclear family nightmare goes on in those homes leaked into the research papers.

And then yeah, looking back at the ambush with Sophia. I was really glad to see the squad again, honestly, and it's great to see them working together, especially to take down a killer gunning for their own. A little funny that Sophia prides herself so highly for being a hunter of men and she fell for a classic ambush without even blinking.

Guess we get to find out what that's all building up to in the next arc, eh?

[a-story-worth-writing]

Heart of a Westown Cowboy has updated!

In A Smile Passing Through, Wayne and Melody talk at the Postio and then we meet Carrie for a late night meal! Carrie is a bit different than she appears in the game; she's still the kind waitress at the Garden Grill, but she's got a mischievous ear for gossip, and Melody is the talk of the town.

[ALSO HofWC has crossed 10k words!!!🥳]

[galvanizedfriend]

I'm about 70% into the next chapter and it's already longer than the other two before, and almost as long as TW3x21. 🫠

[longagoitwastuesday]

I am liking Jujutsu Kaisen, way more than I imagined I would, but I foresee it will let me down and it's keeping me from enjoying this as much as I could haha

I think the characters and dynamics are well set, and I think many of them have an incredibly good and deep potential, but I would be willing to bet they'll not get a proper development, enough for them to really hit. A well assembled set of gears is not enough to make the movement go, you have to wind the clockwork.

I think Gojo and Megumi have a fascinating and very complex dynamic, but I doubt it will be given the time and care that imo it needs to actually work. And it is going well enough for now! One could see the intimacy between them was deeper than the one Gojo had with, say, Yuji and Nobara ever since the very first few episodes despite the fact Fushiguro too was a first year. But the pieces forming what they have are extremely complex, and it just wouldn't be realistic if it doesn't show, even if in a not showing way, or if it doesn't have consequences or implications.

It's one of those dynamics that shape one's life, the way one regards the world, the way one establishes or not relationships with other people. It's one of those dynamics that could be full of fondness, gratitude, resentment, admiration, trust, and that imply intimacy, the good kind or the bad, even if in just the knowledge of someone who's been a constant through your life. It could, and would, imply a myriad of feelings, and probably in such a mix it could imply contradictory feelings too. Even the nothingness would weight, even the nothingness would be significant and meaningful.

Gojo took Megumi and his sister under his wing, the son of a man who murdered him, because of both selfish and selfless reasons. Megumi looks like Toji. What does Gojo feel about this? How does Gojo deal with this? How does Gojo go about taking care of Megumi? Would he walk him to school? Make him breakfast? Celebrate his birthdays making him blow candles? Did he take him to the zoo? Does the relationship between them feel professional or is it something more? Gojo appreciates his students, but is Megumi to him just another student? When Gojo faces Sukuna in Megumi's body, did he see the kid he raised, or does he just see Sukuna in one of his students' body? Did he have one faint wavering instant? And how does Megumi feel about this? Is he resentful of him? Resentful of the situation? Of the selfishness behind his actions? Does he feel like a pawn? Is he grateful? Does he resent feeling grateful? Would he rather not? Does he love Gojo? Does he feel nothing about him other than what he could feel about a teacher that sort of annoys him but knows he's reliable in his strength? Does he think it unfair, cruel or unfeeling that Gojo is close, closer perhaps, with Yuuji or Yuta, considering their story? When Sukuna slices Gojo in two, does the remnants of Megumi's soul tremble?

And not just Megumi and Gojo. Yuuji and Nanami, Gojo and Nanami, Yuuji and Fushiguro, Nobara and the boys, or Nobara and Maki, Todo and Yuuji or Yuta, Gojo and Yuta, Megumi and his sister. Gojo and Geto, even! If the pieces are well set, the dynamics are intriguing, interesting, and have potential to be deep, but then the characters have like two plot relevant scenes that punch you hard, but little more, it's not nearly enough. Especially not nearly enough for the enormity that is shonen dynamics and situations. And the potential existing at all, and then not delivering, makes it all the more frustrating when you're left with something mediocre that could have been so good.

The development of dynamics through not only a few plot relevant gut wrenching moving scenes, but also the smallness of life, is important. The friend who recommended this to me said that those things were just unnecessary filler, but I disagree. I think there's a big difference between a large amount of anime-only filler episodes whose existence is based on the fact they had run out of manga chapters to animate, and moments of quietness. The low stakes character-driven moments of quietness can be so telling and so insightful, and they are so satisfactory when brought back later in higher stakes situations. My friend teased me there was no scene of Gojo making breakfast to Megumi, that it would be an idiotic idea, but it would be so telling. How he makes breakfast, what they eat, if he tries hard or if it's all mechanised, if they have personal bowls or if they use whatever, if he just buys them some pastry on the way to school, if the way they have breakfast changes through the years, or if he doesn't make them breakfast at all! All that would be very insightful on their dynamic and its evolution. All that would give a glimpse on how they regard each other and why, even in the present. All that could become meaningful in tense situations and high stakes scenes.

These moments also let the plot breath; if a lot is happening all the time, if every character is always experiencing trauma after trauma, the entire story is so emotionally draining that at some point you don't even care all that much. Besides, these nothing moments or low stakes plot arcs, besides deepening and developing dynamics, also let some in-world time pass, which would make the intimacy and bond between characters more believable imo; between Yuuji eating Sukuna's finger and their last confrontation in December how much time has passed? A few months? Am I truly to believe these characters are so everything to each other in only a few months?

Without some smallness, some repetition, some daily life, some low stakes not plot-centric development, the dynamics don't hit, they don't truly feel fleshed out, and dynamics as complex as the ones Megumi and Gojo have, or as supposedly meaningful as the one Megumi has with Yuuji or his sister, should be fleshed out if they're going to exist at all. Otherwise they'd risk making the writing feel awkward and fake. Besides, if the dynamics felt well fleshed out and realistic, they would shape the way the characters interact and act, and how they deal with situations, thus being plot relevant.

The shonen genre has so much happening all the time, the stakes are so high, the dynamics are so rooted in big events and the relationships carry enormous weight and implications. Yet they barely get developed, and it feels so stupid, so plain, the absence of something so important noticeable like a constant void, a shapeless nothingness present in every scene. It makes the characters feel like cardboard figures. Jujutsu Kaisen is already getting a better job than many, but I doubt it will do enough for what I've heard, and I fear I am bound to feel let down, and bound to feel unmoved.

After all, if not enough time and care has been given to develop a dynamic, I am not going to feel pressured by the high stakes; if not enough time and care has been given to develop the dynamic between Megumi and Yuuji, as good potential as it has I am bound to feel little for this last confrontation between Sukuna and Itadori, and his effort in getting Megumi back.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 7: In All My Victories

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Somebody said you got a new friend (But does she love you better than I can?)

(In which a writer in an EST timezone uses the PST timezone to announce that technically she's still meeting the deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy

Words: 6.5K

TW: Swearing, Toxic Relationships

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Listen it's past midnight here but it's only around 9 pm in California which is where most of this fic is set so TECHNICALLY I am still meeting my deadline. This chapter is kind of a filler (and I guess that's why I don't love it) because it was gonna be about ~3K longer with another scene but it was either a longer chapter or a Monday chapter and I feel like y'all would prefer a Monday chapter. I have not edited this yet because I simply just don't have the energy to so pretty please point out my errors as you read so I can use them when I edit some time tomorrow. There's probably other stuff I need to say but I'm feeling oddly delirious right now so I'll just end with the usual. Let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Paige wakes up to a stream of sunlight tapping at her eyelids and someone’s soft breath tickling against her nose. She can feel a tiny hand pressed against her chest -right above her heart- and the weight of another person’s fingers intertwined against her own. The room is silent with the exception of the clock ticking on the wall and the perfectly harmonized breathing of the other people in the room. Stephie and Azzi. And Paige is scared to open her eyes, scared to move even an inch, scared that if she does either of those things, her dreamlike reality will prove to be nothing but a hopeless mirage. 

It had taken Paige a moment last night to really register what was happening around her. Dazedly, she had followed Azzi up the stairs into the guest room. She’d watched, albeit unhelpfully, as Azzi had searched out extra pillows, setting up the queen-sized bed so it could fit three people instead of it’s regular duo. It hadn’t sunk in even as Paige had slowly gotten herself ready for bed, finding herself in one of Azzi’s old oversized t-shirts suddenly overwhelmed with how much she’d missed falling asleep embraced in the scent of the younger woman’s favorite lavender and eucalyptus deodorant. Even as she’d made her way back from the bathroom and found Stephie beaming at her from where she was curled into Azzi’s side on bed, Paige still felt like she was simply just watching everything from a facetime call, like she had been while back in Dallas. It wasn’t until Stephie’s bedtime story was finished and the lights were turned off, when Azzi’s hand finally captured hers underneath the comforter and squeezed gently, that it finally clicked for Paige. 

Azzi had asked her to stay over.

Azzi had promised she wouldn’t run away. 

And as Paige finally lets eyes flutter open, blinking to adjust to the light, she breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of a promise kept. 

Propping herself onto her elbow, she lets herself take in the view of the two people still sound asleep next to her. Paige isn’t a morning person by any means -rarely is she the first person to wake up- but she thinks if this was what she could open her eyes to every time, getting up could become her favorite part of the day. 

It’s uncanny how similar Azzi and Stephie are while sleeping. The little girl’s grip on Paige’s shirt is almost as strong as the tight hold her mother has on Paige’s hand. It’s like they’re trying to reel Paige into their world and keep her there forever, like even if she let go, they wouldn’t let her. There’s an air of contentedness on Azzi’s face as she snuggles closer to her daughter and Stephie has a soft smile at being cocooned in the protection of her mother’s arms. And Paige’s whole body aches a little bit because this bed they’re on is definitely not made for three people, but it’s nothing in comparison to the way her heart feels like it might burst from this feeling of and maybe this is how i become whole again. 

She presses a kiss against Stephie’s forehead and rubs her thumb against the back of Azzi’s hand before carefully detaching herself from the duo and slipping out of bed. The whole house is still clearly asleep as Paige lethargically brushes and then begins to make her way down the stairs. Her eyes gloss over the pictures placed across the stairwell until they fixate on one that has her in it. It’s an image taken after one of many water fights they’d had at the Fudd household during a hot summer day. Life had been so simple back then when it was water and not bullets that they shot at each other. 

Five drenched children are beaming at the camera. Jon and José are posed in some ridiculous stance, their water guns pointed at the camera. Paige, par for the course, is flexing, a far too cocky smirk dancing on her lips because she’d probably won the game (even if nobody else agreed). And then there’s Drew and Azzi. There’s a familiar pang in Paige’s chest as she brushes her fingers over her little brother’s exuberant smile. He’s latched onto the brunette’s back, a blue water balloon in his hand, as Azzi uses one hand on his hip to keep Drew in place and uses her other one to hold a pink water balloon of her own. The Fudds -Azzi- had been as big of a constant in Drew’s life as they had been in Paige’s and she wonders now, as she thinks back to her little brother’s irritation with her joining the Valkyries, if he’d ever forgive her and Azzi for taking that away from him. 

“Oh hey good morning,” Tallulah says as Paige lets herself into the kitchen, blanching slightly at the sight of the other woman. 

“Good morning,” Paige greets, pouring herself a glass of water as she takes a seat at the island, “guessing you’re making pancakes?”

Tallulah nods with a grin, “Stephie’s orders you know.”

“Ah of course,” Paige laughs, “can’t defy the queen.”

She watches as Tallulah prances around the hardwood floor, grabbing bowls and ingredients, like it’s her kitchen and Paige can’t help the twinge of envy that blooms in her bloodstream. It used to be her. She used to know the Fudd’s kitchen -the whole house- like the back of her hand because really, like Katie always said, it was her home too. But she doesn’t quite know this place, couldn’t tell you where to find the sugar or where the utensils were kept and that stings more than she’d expected. It spirals Paige into the thought that she wouldn’t know any of those things at Azzi’s own house either. And suddenly she’s struck by the reminder that two people who’d once promised to build a world together, had spent the last couple of years, building two separate ones instead. 

“Hey,” Tallulah breaks Paige out of her trance, “you good.”

Paige musters up a smile, “yeah- yeah of course. Just- just thinking a lotta things I guess.”

“They’ve all missed you, you know,” Tallulah says softly, “they try not to do it too much around Azzi but it’s always ‘oh Paige would’ve loved this’ or ‘did you catch that bucket Paige made last night’. And whenever the Wings were playing here, it was a no-brainer that they would go.”

“Yeah?” tears prickle against the blonde’s waterline. 

“Yeah,” Tallulah confirms, “Tim lowkey lost his mind before you got here last night. Poor man was running all over the place making sure things were good. Katie thought it was pretty hilarious.”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, “that sounds like them-”

“Miss Buecks,” a tiny voice interrupts her before she can say anything and Paige whirls around to see a teary-eyed Stephie looking at her from the last step of the staircase, her bottom lip trembling and panic courses into Paige’s bloodstream

“Stephie,” she practically trips over herself as she rushes to fold the little girl into her arms, “sweetheart what’s wrong?”

Stephie nestles herself into the blonde’s neck, mumbling something incoherent as she holds Paige impossibly tight. 

“Stephie,” Paige whispers frantically, concern dripping from her voice, “tell Miss Buecks what’s wrong please. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me sweetheart.”

“Thought you left,” Stephie confesses finally, keeping her head burrowed against Paige’s shoulder, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up. Got scared.”

“Oh honey,” Paige whispers, as she gently coaxes the little girl’s head out from the crook of her neck so she can cup her face, “I’m right here. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” 

Paige hesitates, the words sitting heavy on the tip of her tongue. It’s not that she doesn’t want to but Paige has learned first-hand about the fragility of the future, about how true the cliché about time changing in the blink of an eye can be. Because the truth is that it’s not just Azzi who’s scared. Paige is terrified. She’d drowned in this ocean once before and as she tries to swim in it again, she can’t quite find it in herself to shed her life-jacket by making an oath that she can’t guarantee to protect from the dangerous tides of circumstance.

And so she hopes it’s enough for Stephie as she caresses the little girl’s cheeks and says, “I promise I’ll try to stay.”

“Okay,” Stephie says softly and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, “I trust you Miss Buecks.”

Paige smiles, giving the little girl a kiss on the cheek before hoisting her up onto her lap, “did you wake your Mama up?”

“No. She’s still snoring,” Stephie giggles. 

Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?”

“Oh that’s nice,” Tallulah chirps from where she’s still standing in the kitchen, “go get coffee of course. Why would anyone stay here and help me?”

“Go ask uncle José,” Stephie shoots the younger woman an unamused look, “isn’t that what husbands are for?”

Paige stifles a grin as Tallulah narrows her eyes, waving her whisk menacingly at Stephie, “he’s not my husband yet and you watch it missy or maybe I won’t let you be a flower girl at the wedding.”

“Your wedding would be boring without me,” Stephie scoffs, “besides Aunty Tully, we’ll get you a drink too. Uncle José always says you drink vod-ka, too much of it app-ently, but I don’t know what that is,” she turns to Paige who’s gone bright red in attempt to stop herself from keeling over with laughter, “can we get vod-ka for Aunty Tully?”

Paige tries her best to compose herself, “maybe we’ll just get her a latte and save the vodka for later huh Tulls?”

Tallulah glares at her, flipping her off when Stephie’s gaze shifts towards the door, “just go get the coffee Bueckers.”

***

Not that she didn’t know it before, but Paige quickly realizes just how similar Stephie is to her mother while they’re standing in front of the bakery portion of the coffeeshop and it’s been ten minutes and Stephie still hasn’t decided which sweet treat she’d like. 

 “Stephie sweetheart,” Paige says, only slightly impatient, “how about the double fudge brownie?”

“That sounds good,” Stephie says excitedly and then her eyes dart towards the cinnamon bun in the corner, “or maybe the ninnamon bun- no wait- Aunty Tully’s gonna put ninnamon in the pancakes so maybe something else. Ooooh maybe a cookie but which one?”

Paige groans to herself as Stephie busies herself looking at the assortment of freshly baked cookies. The old woman over the counter, wearing a name tag saying Ruthie, shares a commiserating smile with her. 

“My daughter was like that too at that age. Couldn’t make a decision to save her life,” Ruthie says, a fond look in her eyes while talking about her child. 

Paige smiles, “did she ever grow out of it?”

“Well considering we went out to dinner last night and she couldn’t pick between the pepperoni and the sausage, I don’t think they really grow out of it,” Ruthie winks and Paige can’t help but think about Azzi and the way she’d struggled to pick out what to wear to bed last night, staring helplessly between two shirts that practically looked the same. 

“Oh I know that look,” Ruthie says, eyes twinkling at the hopeless smile on Paige’s face, as she tilts her head towards Stephie, “you’re thinking about her mother huh?”

“That obvious?” Paige blushes. 

Ruthie shrugs, “what is love if it can’t be seen by everyone?”

Love. The word seeps into Paige’s veins, traveling up her bloodstreams until it claws its way into her heart, settling against her ribcage like a rock so that when she breathes, it’s all she can feel. It’s too soon, she knows, and it defeats the purpose of going slow except- it’s not soon at all. Because this isn’t a new feeling, it’s a far too familiar old one that she’d buried as deep within her as possible but is now yearning to get out. It had never gone away, simply lingered in the back of her mind just waiting for this moment. And if she’s honest with herself, Paige doesn’t know if she should fight against it or let herself ride the waves of the before that are desperate to crash against the shore of now. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines, “come help me choose.”

Shooting Ruthie an apologetic look and ignoring the pit in her stomach at the elder woman’s words, Paige walks over and bends down to the little girl’s height, “how about a chocolate chip cookie?”

“Boooooring,” Stephie crinkles her nose. 

“Peanut butter?”

“I’m ‘lergic to nuts Miss Buecks,” Stephie says matter-of-factly and Paige pencils that important fact into her mind’s ever growing list of all about Stephie.

“Salted caramel crunch?” 

“That sounds good,” Stephie nods, “yeah I’ll get that,” she says as she turns to Ruthie, “could I get a salted car-mel crunch cookie please?” but Paige doesn’t miss the wistful look she sends towards the rest of the cookies. 

“Stephie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to get you one of each?”

And she’s absolutely going to get a disapproving glare from Azzi when she shows back up at the Fudd’s with almost a dozen cookies in hand but it’s worth it for the way Stephie immediately latches onto her thigh, a dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. 

“You’re best-est-est-est Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, staring up at Paige with delight. 

“I know,” Paige smirks, “and you better protect me from your Mama when we get back.”

Stephie nods very seriously, “of course Miss Buecks. I’ll protect you with my life.”

Paige ruffles the younger girl's hair before turning to Ruthie who’s grinning at her, “one of every flavor of cookie you have please. Except anything that has nuts.”

“Coming right up,” Ruthie winks at Paige, “your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?”

And maybe Paige should at least attempt to correct the misconception but as Stephie clings to her just a little bit tighter, she can’t find it in herself to say anything but, “yeah, yeah she does.”

***

“Next time you kidnap my daughter, can you at least send me a text?” Azzi says, a grin on her lips as she opens the door to let Paige and Stephie enter back into the Fudd household. 

“Good morning Mama,” Stephie says happily, launching herself into her mother’s arms and placing a sloppy kiss against her cheek. 

“Morning sunshine,” Azzi laughs, “you seem giddy this morning.”

“Miss Buecks bought me six-teen cookies and she let me eat two of them while we were dri-” Stephie pauses mid ramble, eyes widening as she dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth. 

Paige groans as a glare overtakes Azzi’s previously smiling features, “Steph what happened to protecting me?”

“It was an aksy-dent Miss Buecks I’m sorry,” Stephie whimpers, hurriedly cupping her mother’s face, “please don’t be angry at Miss Buecks, Mama. It was my idea.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I bet it was. But if you already had two cookies, you must be full? I guess that means no pancakes for you-”

“Miss Buecks forced me to eat the cookies,” Stephie cuts her off and Paige gasps at the betrayal, “not full at all Mama because you can’t get full unless you like what you eat and I didn’t like those cookies at all. So I neeeeeeed pancakes.”

“Traitor,” Paige hisses at the little girl who shrugs sheepishly. 

Stephie shoots her an apologetic smile as Azzi hides a grin against her daughter’s hair, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I really, really want pancakes. I’ll die if I don’t get pancakes.”

“Okay drama queen,” Azzi chides fondly as she puts Stephie back on the ground, “go get your pancakes,” and then she rounds onto Paige with a patented glare. 

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” Paige says before the younger woman can say anything, practically shoving the cold drink into her hand. 

“Sixteen cookies? Paige seriously?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she sips at her coffee. 

“You didn’t see her Az,” Paige defends, “she looked so sad when she couldn’t decide.”

“Just because she looks sad doesn’t mean you buy her every single cookie to make her happy,” Azzi shakes her head exasperatedly. 

“I’d buy her the whole shop if that’s what would make her happy,” Paige says, sincerity weaved throughout every word of the sentence. 

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Azzi says softly, a hint of awe in her voice, “you’re kind of a sap Paige Bueckers.”

“Only for you and your daughter Azzi Fudd,” Paige whispers, leaning her head against the younger woman’s temple, “only for the two of you.”

They stand there like that, barely touching beyond their foreheads, yet basking in a certain kind of intimacy that they’ve only ever found with each other. The thing is, Paige’s senses are always heightened, every part of her always alert of what’s going around her. Except when she’s with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi she can let the noise fade to the background and let everything else become a blur and simply just be with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi, she doesn’t have to worry; doesn’t have to have her sword out ready for battle because she knows the younger girl will always be her shield. When she’s with Azzi, Paige is safe. 

They’re shaken from their reverie by a cough in the background and Paige reluctantly looks over her shoulder to see Jana regarding them with an amused look. 

“Guess I missed a couple of chapters?” 

“Shut up,” Paige grinds out, annoyed as Azzi moves out of her space, “what are you doing here so early El-Alfy?”

“I’m here for breakfast because I’m basically an honorary Fudd,” Jana throws her head back before yelling, “RIGHT KATIE?’

“Right Jana,” comes the muffled confirmation from the kitchen as Jana smirks at Paige. 

“The better question Bueckers,” the Egyptian prods with a smirk, “is what are you doing here so early?”

“I slept ov-” Paige bites her tongue but it’s too late as Jana’s grin gets wider and next to her, Azzi lets her head drop into her hands. 

“You slept over? In which room?” Jana asks innocently. 

And of course Stephie chooses exactly that moment to catch wind of the conversation, yelling from the kitchen, “she slept with me and Mama, Aunty J.”

“Thank you for telling me Stephie,” Jana’s eyes twinkle with mirth as she pulls out her phone, “oh I’m about to make some money- hey!”

Azzi snatches the phone out of her younger teammate’s hand, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she starts walking towards the kitchen, “no phones at breakfast thank you!”

“That’s not fair,” Jana whines sauntering after the GSV shooting guard, Paige snickering as she follows the two of them into the kitchen. 

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it,” Azzi glares before slipping Jana’s phone into her own pocket, “you can have it back before you leave.”

“Y’all are so mean,” Jana sulks, pouting harder when she reaches out to grab a pancake and immediately has her hand whacked by Tim.

“That one’s for Paige,” the older man warns sternly and Paige sticks her tongue out at her teammate as she grabs the pancake onto her place. 

“WHAT?” Jana guffaws, “what’s so special about it?”

Tim shrugs, “absolutely nothing. Just thought it would be funny to see you annoyed.”

“Y’all are the worst adoptive family a player could have you know that?” Jana scolds, pressing her fists to her cheeks like she’s barely older than Stephie, “and to think I was gonna invite the two of you,” she glares at Paige and Azzi, “to a party.”

“Party? Can I come?” Stephie asks excitedly. 

“Unfortunately this one’s just for adults kiddo. And it’s not really a party,” Jana explains, “me and Joyce thought it would be nice to do a little team-bonding, especially for you P. Drinks at the bar next weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!”

“Oh it’s ‘we’ now is it?” Jana teases, “you guys gonna come together?”

“No,” Azzi says at the same time as a profound “yes” leaves Paige’s mouth. The two of them stare at each other with questioning looks and Paige feels a heavy pit settling in her stomach. Rationally, she knows Azzi’s probably right. No part of going slow includes going to a party with their teammates together, especially not when they’re trying to keep whatever it is they’re doing on the down low. But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. 

“Awkward,” Jon whistles slowly, only to be met with a simultaneous slap on the back of his head from both his mother and Tallulah. 

“I mean- I would have to drop Stephie off here- or umm- at Colleen's so like- logically- practically- uh- it um- it wouldn’t make sense for us to go together,” Azzi says and Paige has to refrain herself from calling it a bullshit explanation. 

Instead she gives the younger girl a tight-lipped nod, “right yeah-wouldn’t make sense for us to go together. Obviously,” gritting her teeth and desperate to change the topic, she turns to Jana, “will the whole team be there?”

“A couple of them aren’t currently in the Bay but yeah most of them,” Jana shrugs. 

“Oh,” Stephie claps excitedly, “will Aunty Chérie be there? Is she back yet?”

Paige narrows her eyes as both Jana and Azzi exchange looks, “who’s Aunty Chérie?”

“Aunty Chérie’s the best,” Stephie gushes, “she’s really nice and pretty and she calls me ‘mon chérie’,” the little girl does her best attempt at a vaguely french accent and realization starts to claw at Paige’s mind, “so I call her Aunty Chérie. She’s Mama’s best friend on the team.”

Paige tries and fails not to grimace at the sentence; the idea of anyone else being Azzi’s best friend feels like nails being screwed into her skin. 

“I’m your Mama’s best friend on the team,” Jana butts in, trying to rescue Azzi from the hole her daughter’s about to dig her into, glancing worriedly between the two former huskies who are doing their best not to look at each other. 

“If you say so Aunty J,” Stephie concedes, “but you didn’t answer my question. Is Aunty Chérie back?”

“Yeah she- um Clémence I mean- is coming back for a little bit next week so um-” Jana swallows, clearly not having thought the uncomfortableness of the situation through, “yeah she’ll uh- she’ll probably be there.”

Stephie lets out a whoop of excitement and Paige feels it burn a hole in her stomach. She knows she has no right to be upset at the idea of Stephie being as enamored by another one of Azzi’s teammates but something about it makes her feel queasy inside. Because Clémence Martens isn’t just a teammate. Paige doesn’t know the exact history there; she’d never had the right to ask about it but she’s seen the way Clémence looks at Azzi and she knows she doesn’t like it one bit.

“I thought Clémence was being traded to Atlanta?” Paige keeps her voice low as she leans into Jana. She’s not sure if Stephie knows the news yet and despite the jealousy that’s blooming in every crevice of her body, she doesn’t want to hurt the little girl by accidentally announcing it to her, “why’s she coming?”

Jana sighs, “Joyce invited her cause she was gonna be in town. You know they don’t know about-” the taller woman gestures between Paige and Azzi, “-all of this so. It’s just for one night Paige.”

“Right,” Paige nods, eyes locking with Azzi’s across the table as the younger woman fidgets with the ‘S’ necklace around her neck and shoots Paige a timid attempt at a reassuring smile, “just one night.”

***

August 2028

USA 68         France 64

The entire arena is abuzz for the final 20 seconds of a grueling semi-final match between the storied USA Women’s Basketball team trying to keep their dynasty alive and a vindictive French team eager to avenge their last heartbreaking Olympic loss. France has possession of the ball, shot clock turned off, and Paige has been tasked with guarding Clémence Martens. The woman in front of her, a bench player for the Golden State Valkyries,  had never seemed like much of a threat to Paige when they’d met during the W season, but seemed to have become a whole other beast when representing her nation. Clémence is currently leading the French team in assists and is only behind Gabby William in points. Paige keeps herself glued to the woman as she tries to get herself free for the inbound. 

The inbounder realizes after a couple of seconds that the French coach’s advice to get Clémence the ball wouldn’t be possible and instead the ball ends up in the hands of Iliana Rupert instead. As gameplay resumes, Paige does exactly as she’s supposed to and she can tell that she’s getting under the French woman’s skin as Clémence curses to herself in her native language. Paige bites back a smirk, secretly pleased at having riled her competitor up. The ball continues to pass around the French players, time ticking away, but the USA’s defense doesn’t allow a good shot until Gabby throws up a miraculous jumper with a second left on the shot clock. 

And of course, in a way that’s perhaps too reminiscent of how France had lost in 2024, it goes in. 

But it’s not enough and Paige feels blood rush to her ears as the entire arena, decked out in red white and blue, roars with triumph, celebrating the world's greatest team returning back to the finals stage. There’s still one more game but this win is special. They’d been down by 11 points at the half and Paige could almost picture the headlines ready to write themselves about the streaks that could be broken if they lost. But she was no stranger to the pressure that came from playing for a team with a deep history and it had been her and Stewie, partially motivated by their former college head coach frowning at them from the sidelines, that had spear-headed a 23-3 run at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. The USA women’s team hadn’t looked back since and now they were one more step away being golden again. 

“You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more when the familiar back of someone’s head catches her attention and, like they always seem to when she’s around, all the words die on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi. 

Paige could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman in the crowd at some point but she’d chalked it up to a trick of the light manipulating her eyes into seeing what her heart desperately wanted. But as she watches the woman she’d once imagined celebrating all of her victories with, slowly brush away the tears of someone else’s loss, Paige can’t help but wish that it had been a trick of the light after all. She feels suffocated and she can’t tell if it’s from how tight Olivia’s holding her or if it’s because Clémence is burying her head into the space between Azzi’s neck and shoulder, a space that Paige used to mark as hers. And then Azzi looks above Clémence’s shoulder. Dark brown eyes shimmer with unshed tears as they lock onto watery sky blue ones. They’re standing in other people’s arms and they really should look away but how can they when looking into each other’s eyes feels a little bit like finally coming up for air. And Paige realizes that what she’s really being suffocated by is the regret of you’re supposed to be holding me and i’m supposed to be holding you; it was meant to be us. 

Azzi lets go of Clémence first, soothingly rubbing the francophone’s back as she makes her way over to congratulate the USA team, starting with Cam and Aliyah. Paige pulls away from Olivia, oblivious to the way annoyance flits across her wife’s features as she catches sight of Azzi. No one but the blonde notices how hesitant Azzi’s steps are, how she carefully pauses a little longer than necessary with everyone else until she finally reaches Paige, managing to give her a small but sincere smile. Olivia wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep and the blonde fights the urge to shake it off when she notices Azzi’s eyes flickering to it for a brief second before coming back up to her face. 

“Congratulations Paige,” the formality in Azzi’s voice feels like acid pelting against Paige’s skin, “you were really good tonight.”

“Thank you,” Paige smiles politely, “it was pretty stressful there for a second but I’m glad we got the dub. But it um-” she hesitates, unsure if she should say the next part, “it would’ve been nice if you were out there with me- with us I mean. We could’ve used your shooting.”

“Maybe next time,” Azzi gives her a half-grin. 

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”

This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice. And Paige really should let it go at this moment, make a mental note to speak with her wife about it later instead of jumping in. But she can see the insecurities brimming in Azzi’s eyes and the words tumble out before Paige can stop them. 

“Yeah but no one better than Azzi.”

Olivia stiffens, “right unless she’s injured or pregnant or something. You’re prone to those right?”

“Olivia,” Paige hisses. 

“I didn’t mean it offensively,” Olivia feigns innocence and a bitter mix of irritation and anger coils itself around Paige’s ribcage, “just something to think about.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second before a sugary smile, laced with poison, inches itself onto her face, “I’ve only been pregnant once and I haven’t been injured since college which I would expect someone in sports media to know but,” the brunette’s eyes flash dangerously, “I suppose that’s something someone with national media credentials would know, not just a mere local beat writer for Dallas’s fifth most read newspaper,” Azzi turns to Paige, sarcasm morphing into something far more genuine, “congratulations again. I’m really happy for you Paige.”

***

The Reynolds-Bueckers hotel room is a pathetic hot mess that night. Olivia’s livid at Paige and Paige is livid at the stupid #Clézzi tag on tiktok. She’s no stranger to fan edits and she’s definitely no stranger to ship edits and so when the first tiktok appears on her for you page, she knows better than to click on it. She knows better but she does it anyway. And suddenly she finds herself sucked into montage after montage of so-called moments between Clémence and Azzi that fans had noticed and documented. The clips are bad enough themselves but it’s the captions, bold declarations of look at the way she looks at her; no one can love azzi the way clémence loves her, that really piss her off. Clémence might look at Azzi like she’s made of stars but Paige knows that she looks at Azzi like she is the moon, Paige’s moon. As Olivia’s anger bounces off the walls, her rant about disrespect starts to mesh with the audio of the edits that continue to play on the blonde’s phone and Paige wonders if this her God-designed personal hell. 

“Are you even fucking listening to me Paige?” Olivia yells, forcing Paige to look up at her wife. 

“What do you want me to say Olivia?” Paige asks tiredly. 

“What do I want you to say? Well nothing now Paige. She said all of that shit to me and you were silent then so I’m not expecting you to say anything of meaning now either.”

“You’re the one who poked her first-”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Olivia laughs maniacally, “you’re really gonna do this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige protests. 

“You’re defending her,” Olivia yells, “you’re my wife and you’re defending her. You’re defending your ex. Can you seriously not see what’s wrong with this picture.”

“Olivia,” Paige sighs, eyes gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play and she rapidly scrolls past it, “it’s been a long day and I just wanna go to bed. I have practice tomorrow and the gold medal game-”

“Right fucking basketball. Again,” Olivia rolls her eyes. 

“What-”

“It’s fine,” Olivia pinches the bridge of her nose, the fight draining from her voice, “you’re right go to bed. I’m not- I’m not feeling great so I’ll sleep out here tonight. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want you to get sick before the gold medal game.”

“Olivia,” Paige says half-heartedly, taking a timid step towards the woman in front of her.

“It’s fine,” Olivia says, “just- just go to bed Paige.”

Paige knows that the last thing she should do is actually listen to her wife. And she knows that if it was Azzi -she hates herself for even thinking this way- she wouldn’t walk away. If it was Azzi, Paige would’ve pulled her into her arms, held her there and made her talk because they both hated going to bed angry. But well if it was Azzi, this whole situation wouldn’t exist in the first place. 

And so she ends up in bed alone, still scrolling through random tiktoks in an effort to not have to deal with all the voices in her head, until suddenly she stumbles on a video captioned and at the end of the day she’ll still always be looking at her. It’s a video taken today. Paige is holding Olivia and Azzi’s holding Clémence but they’re staring at each other. And Paige thinks that whoever wrote the caption, had probably gotten it right. At the end of day, she’ll always look for Azzi. She just doesn’t know if she’ll find her ever again. 

***

USA 102         Australia 73 

Paige can already taste the feeling of a gold medal around her neck as she takes a seat, the crowd roaring with applause as Coach Lawson empties her bench. There’s only fifteen seconds left in the game and her knees are bouncing in anticipation, ready to celebrate a moment she’s been dreaming of for god knows how long. Paige scans the crowd, not even pretending to look for anyone but Azzi and she can’t help the smile that erupts on her face when she spots the brunette with her fingers crossed, a brilliant grin directed in Paige’s direction as she mouths i’m so proud of you. 

Olivia isn’t here, claiming she was too sick to come tonight. Paige thinks she probably should be more upset about that. She thinks the whole thing is probably a ruse that Olivia had concocted to get Paige to beg her to come, to get Paige to show her that she wanted her wife there. The other woman's face had fallen when Paige hadn’t really reacted to the announcement, simply pressed her lips to her forehead and mumbled a feeble hope you feel better before leaving. Paige thinks this is probably the first sign they're falling apart. She thinks she should probably care about that a little bit more too. 

But the first thing her eyes had landed on once she’d entered the court, was Azzi’s face in the lower bowl and everything else had ceased to exist. Her first petty thought had been a ha! fuck you to the damned Clézzi shippers who claimed Azzi wouldn’t show up today, too busy consoling Clémence. They didn't know Azzi was all-american. Her second thought, the one that felt like a warm blanket being wrapped around her soul, was that of course Azzi’s here. Because Azzi had been there every time Paige achieved a milestone and even if they were barely a shadow of what they used to be, it's only right that Azzi is still here. 

Australia doesn’t even bother taking a shot, bowing out gracefully and the buzzer rings. 

The entire arena bursts into confetti and music as the USA Women’s Basketball Team clinches yet another Olympic Gold Medal. 

Paige doesn’t know who she’s hugging, lost in a sea of red uniforms as she feels herself floating through her teammates. They end up in a huddle, screaming and she can barely make out who’s saying what but it doesn’t matter. The chaos has never felt so fucking cathartic.

As everyone else disperses to find their families, Paige’s eyes land where they always seem to: on Azzi. And maybe she shouldn’t do it, maybe she should think again but fuck it Paige Bueckers is an olympic gold medalist and she’s going to share this moment with the first person she’d ever won a medal for this country with. Her legs move of their own accord, walking and then running and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she realizes that Azzi’s moving towards her too. 

“You did it. Oh my god Paige you did it,” Azzi squeals as they crash into each other in the middle of the court, her arms instinctively going around Paige’s neck as the blonds wraps her hands around Azzi’s waist, “I’m so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it Paige.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Paige breathes out, “I just- it wouldn’t be the same winning without you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.”

“Good don't want you to be here for anybody else,” Paige tightens her hold on the younger woman’s waist, “we’re gonna do it together next time okay. You and me, we’re gonna be golden together.”

And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden.

[mionemymind]

Chapter 4: Finding My Way To You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: Wanda is determined to get Y/n back to Evergreen University, but how will she?

A/n: Apologies for the delay. I struggle a lot with writing filler sometimes until I get moments where I'm like "shit that would be cute to write". Hopefully y'all enjoy. (Gif Credits to @samaraweaving)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Summer Break 

“At what point does this obsession with Y/n turn from respect into love?” In their summer home, Wanda layed on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hands fiddled with the green crystal around her neck, a constant reminder of the girl that clouded her dreams. 

“What makes you think that I’m thinking about her? I could be thinking about school.” Wanda didn’t have to look to know that Pietro was smirking. While he knew very little about what Wanda felt about Y/n, he did know the ruckus she’s causing to get Y/n back. And that was enough to leave a big impression on Pietro. 

“School doesn’t have you paralyzed in your room for three weeks. Not only that, you don’t have any summer courses this year.” Sitting down at the open desk chair, Pietro spun around as he aimlessly looked around Wanda’s room. “And last time I checked, no other person has your eye…well not in the way Y/n does.” 

Wanda grabbed the closest pillow, chucking it at Pietro. She hated how quick he could get under her nerves. It usually wouldn’t bother her, but then again, the topic is never really about Y/n. 

Wanda hardly ever spoke about Y/n at home or to any of her friends. Of course everyone of her college friends knew of Y/n, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know how badly Wanda thought of Y/n during freshman year of college. They didn’t know how much Wanda wanted to be friends with Y/n and that this stupid rivalry was the closest thing she could get. They didn’t know how much Y/n practically encourages her to be better, to be number one. They didn’t know - no one did. 

How could she even tell people? Hey, I have this weird rivalry with Y/n that keeps up every day and night. We’re not even friends though and I may secretly feel something about this. No matter how many times Wanda rehearsed it, talking about Y/n was just as challenging as all her honors classes, maybe even more. 

So while keeping it a secret did hurt, it was better this way. Because in some weird twisted way, Wanda loved that she was the only one that understood Y/n at this level, that no one else could understand Y/n like her, even if they tried. 

Regardless of how selfish it was, Wanda could not bear the idea of someone else challenging Y/n the same way she did. Because no matter how much she denied herself, Wanda’s thoughts revolve around Y/n. And God forbid, the idea of Y/n’s thought revolving around somebody else would kill her. 

‘Does she think about me?’ Wanda sat up, the bitter taste back in her mouth at the thought that maybe Y/n was into other people. ‘I’ve never heard her speak about anybody else before.’ But Wanda was smart. While Y/n may have never spoken directly to Wanda about crushes, she may secretly have one. ‘Oh God, does she have a partner?’

Before Wanda could panic about that, Pietro broke her out of her thoughts. “What are you going to do if Dad doesn’t give Y/n her scholarship back?” Pietro was never the type to get serious around his sister often. While he knew the time and place to fool around, this felt like uncharted territory. 

Of course Wanda had her fair share of partners in the past, a mix of boys and girls. But Y/n was different. Not in the way that Y/n captured Wanda’s mind, but in the way that Y/n was the only one mentioned by their father. No one else was ever worth being spoken by. So what made Y/n so different?

Wanda felt nervous under Pietro’s stare. This was the first time she ever really spoke about Y/n and the feeling in her chest was hard to ignore. The room felt hot, her anxiety was through the roof, and the answer was something she simply could not rush. 

“Would you think I’m overreacting if I said I would transfer?” Finally taking the courage to look at him, Pietro was stunned by Wanda’s answer. He, as well as any Maximoff, knew how important Evergreen University was for the family. Many generations of Maixmoffs have gone to Evergreen University. There is hardly a generation where you can’t pinpoint at least one Maximoff. 

So for Wanda to even entertain the idea of transferring meant the situation was bigger than he could ever imagine. 

“I think that…Y/n means something to you - clearly more than you care to let anyone know.” Rolling over to Wanda, Pietro offered a small smile. “And if her not going to Evergreen University affects you a lot, then I will personally try my best to help.” 

Pietro may not understand Wanda sometimes, but he certainly will always get her back. “Thanks Piet.” 

Getting up from his seat, he couldn’t help but comment, “Nice flannel.” 

Looking down, Wanda rolled her eyes, “You could just use your words and ask for it back.” 

Wanda took the flannel off. With her hand reached out, she tried giving it back to him. Confused by her comment, Pietro slowly grabbed the flannel and held it up. Quickly confirming his thoughts, he gently threw it back to Wanda. 

“That’s too small for me. Bummer that it’s not my size because I do like it.” Racking her brain, Wanda vividly remembered having it on when Pietro dragged her from the library one night. 

‘Was I the only one there?’ The night felt too far away to really remember, but the gut feeling she had couldn’t be ignored. ‘Who else would be there on a Saturday night?’ 

Pushing her thoughts away, Wanda dismissed Pietro, her thoughts still lingering on Y/n. 

“Can you tell me more about Y/n?” The siblings were eating breakfast outside prepared by the cook. Their parents were somewhere in town, enjoying company from school. 

“What do you want to know?” Pushing her plate away, Wanda overlooked the view from the backyard. A vast forest lay before them as well as acres of land, something that has been passed through many generations. 

“What makes her so important to you?” The question almost made Wanda scoff. It almost felt like a form of punishment having to fully confess to the world what she thought of Y/n. But the guilty feeling of denying what she felt about Y/n consumed her more. 

Why did she keep Y/n a secret from everybody? It’s not like Y/n was a bad person…but then again, why would Wanda want to share somebody like Y/n? Why would she share her?

“I…” There were multiple ways she could go about this. Wanda could downplay the whole thing hoping that Pietro would never ask again, but this was her brother. Pietro was a lot of things and stubborn was one of them.

Wanda sighed. Lying was going to get her nowhere, especially since Pietro vowed to help her out. “She drives me like no other.” Subconsciously, her hand goes back to her crystal, the one she rarely takes off. Not being able to see Y/n was torture and knowing next semester was still a major if caused even more pain. “It’s like finally finding the reason the world makes sense. I follow so many rules and orders from Mom and Dad that I hardly feel like I understand why things are the way they are. But with Y/n…” 

Looking at the sky filled with clouds, Wanda couldn’t help but try and feel like she was back at school. ‘Cause maybe she could somewhat feel like she was back with Y/n. 

“She makes me not hate the person Mom and Dad made me into. That being like this was a choice rather than something I was forced to do.” The pressure of being a Maximoff was tough, something only Pietro and some cousins knew. But at a very young age, more pressure was put on Wanda’s shoulders compared to Pietro’s. The two never really understood why but instead were forced to live with it. “She drives me to be better in ways that I would’ve never done on my own.” 

Looking back at Pietro, Wanda saw that he had this blank stare, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react. “She’s important because for the first time in my life…I quite like being smart. I like studying and going to class. I like being number one. I like me.” 

Quickly, her mind thinks back to the tournament and the awful letter written by Dean Holloway, and suddenly being number one was the last thing she wanted for herself. 

“She sounds remarkable.” Pietro finished his food, throwing Wanda a smile. 

Feeling herself blush from her confession, Wanda looked back down at the crystal. “Yeah…she is.” 

Sitting in his office, Eric Maximoff sat staring at the offer letter he had rewritten countless of times, the moment between him and his daughter replayed constantly as he made sure to perfect this offer.

Although he realized just how stubborn his daughter was, the threat that replayed in his mind was like no other. There was no tantrum, no screaming, and no begging. That was unlike any argument in the past. This ultimatum almost terrified him if it weren’t the power he held at Evergreen University. 

So while he may have hated the idea of bringing Y/n back, someone who could easily challenge Wanda’s place, he didn’t dare entertain the idea of her going to a different university. Something that would easily bring shame to the family.

The knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” Slowly opening the door, Wanda entered timidly, unsure of the reason she was called. 

Beckoning her forward, he slipped the manila envelope towards the edge of the desk. Slowly, she took the envelope and grabbed the letter inside. 

“This will be mailed tomorrow first thing in the morning.” Wanda’s eyes widened at the words she was reading. Her mind reading faster than her eyes can go. 

Y/n Y/l/n,

On the behalf of Evergreen University, we would like to grant you your scholarship back in full. Much deliberation has been made on your behalf as we have realized the mistake that was made to revoke your scholarship. We do hope you take this letter as a sign of apology for this catastrophic mistake. 

Your scholarship will be found posted for your Fall Semester should you return back to Evergreen University. Please respond to this request on your attendance. We certainly hope to see you again. 

Eric Maximoff

President of Evergreen University 

Analyzing Wanda’s reaction, Eric could feel himself relax at the sight of Wanda’s smile. He didn’t have many close moments to his daughter, so this was certainly one that he wished to be on the right side of. 

“I will let you know when my staff receives word of her response.” This was more than what Wanda could have asked for. The feelings inside her could hardly be contained as she realized that her father explicitly wrote this letter and not Dean Holloway.

‘He cares.’ Looking back at Eric, Wanda didn’t want to wait all summer to know of Y/n’s response. Racking her mind, she spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“I want to see her.” Once again, there was that fire in her eyes. Something Eric had never seen before. “Let me be the one to deliver to her.” 

Freshman Year - Fall Semester 

“Hey Y/n!” A brunette sat by Y/n, someone that Wanda hardly remembered. Her overly enthusiastic attitude caught Wanda’s attention but the proximity between them held her focus. “Would you be able to tell me your address back home? Marketing majors are currently needing it to better research the upbring of our students and what possible trends we may be able to assume based on the data.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the load of bullshit that came out of that girl’s mouth. Why in the hell would a class require that much personal information? Like full on government address? It was a trick. But what pissed Wanda off more was the fact that Y/n was willing to give out her information like this. 

And although Wanda was mad, she couldn’t help but also write down Y/n’s address, in case she were to ever use it in the future. 

Wanda’s hand clenched and unclenched right before the door. Doubt paralyzed her body like never before. Her feet hadn’t moved in five minutes and by now, the sun was making her skin blaze with how long she had been there. 

Wanda Maximoff was petrified. While everything in her life usually stressed her out, something about this was different. Never in her life has something affected her this much. So as she stood right outside the Y/l/n home, she couldn’t help but think of all the what if’s. 

What if Y/n doesn’t want to speak with her? What if she doesn’t even care to open the envelope and continue to go to her home university? What if this whole thing was the most stupid idea on Earth? 

So before she could run away, act like this never happened, she closed her eyes and knocked on the door. 

Waiting on anybody to open up the door was grueling, but as Wanda backed away from the patio, she took a good look at the exterior of the house. With white and gray paneling, the house appeared to be a country style home that was right at the coast. The waves from the beach were crashing so loud, it almost sounded like it was in Y/n’s backyard. 

The drive was almost an hour away from the airport, but thankfully a money hungry cab was willing to take her but double the rate. The last major thing that Wanda noted was just how peaceful the house seemed. It wasn’t a mansion but by no means was the house small. 

There was a disconnected garage near the house as well as the nice front garden. Hardly any neighbors around and by the looks of it, the greenery coming from the forest across the road was a sight to see. 

All of it felt so odd. ‘Did Y/n actually grow up in a place like this?’

And as if the Devil called for her, the door opened wide. Wanda’s name was called by the very person she missed the most.

“Maximoff?” Slowly turning around, Wanda could feel her heart beat out of her chest. The carry-on bag she was holding suddenly felt too heavy and all she could focus on was, ‘Y/n wears glasses?’

They were simple square tortoise shell frames, yet something about them felt so innocent, like a child telling their best friend their first ever crush in life. Feeling herself blush, Wanda cleared her throat, almost forgetting why she was there. 

“Hey.” Nothing more could come out as Wanda continued to look at Y/n, her white shirt and sky blue striped shorts were harder to ignore. The cherry on top was the slightly messy hair. If Wanda could some up this whole moment, it was that Evergreen University robbed her of seeing this Y/n. And by all means, she wanted compensation. “Can I come in?” 

Regardless of how confused Y/n appeared to be, she still let Wanda in her home. The brunette could tell that her rival had a lot of questions yet didn’t want to be rude about it. Before the conversation could continue, the loud sound of heels strutting forward caught their attention. 

“Honey! I didn’t know you had guests.” Out came an older woman in business casual dress. Her face felt youthful but her eyes showed a lot of wisdom in them. Like a fish out of water, Wanda almost felt confused at the immediate hug that she was pulled into. “I’m Maria, Y/n’s Mom. And who must you be?” 

Wanda almost fainted at how quick Maria’s eyes were to analyze her. Hoping she wasn’t too underdressed, Wanda responded with, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, Y/n’s classmate.” 

Maria’s smile slightly faltered as she took a longer look at the girl in front of her. Suddenly, everything made sense to the older woman as she looked back to Y/n, almost trying to confirm if this was the girl. And Y/n hadn’t needed to even say a word, as her mother took the silent look in her eyes as the confirmation she needed.

“Oh dear, it’s finally nice to put a face around a familiar name.” Wanda refused to look at Y/n as she continued to make eye contact with Maria. The newfound knowledge that Y/n actually speaks about her to her parents was more than she could take. “I’m glad you’re finally able to visit us.”

“I hope I’m not intruding.” Maria clicked her tongue and led Wanda deeper into the house where the kitchen was. 

While Maria focused on getting fresh lemonade from the fridge, Wanda gravitated towards the view from the kitchen. The large windows that practically covered a large chunk of the wall showcased the backyard and all of its beauty. 

Correct with her assumptions, the house was exactly on the coast. It overlooked a large part of the ocean as well as the land that curved with it. From what she could tell, there seemed to be a pathway that led down to a dock with two boats anchored to it. 

“Here’s some fresh lemonade. You must be so exhausted from the flight and the drive.” Maria looked over at Y/n with a disapproving look. “You should’ve picked her up. You know better than to let guests drive from there.” 

“Oh no - this was a surprise ma’am. Y/n had no idea I was coming at all.” Maria looked over at the bag that Wanda was still carrying, motion for Y/n to grab it. 

“I’m assuming you’ll be staying here?” Wanda couldn’t tell if she was already over welcoming her stay. Reading Y/n’s expression was hard as her rival grabbed the carry on from her hands.

“Well-”

“Please, it would be an honor to have you here. The closest hotel is more than thirty minutes away unless you’ve rented a closer airbnb?” Wanda remembered the rentals nearby that offered one night stay at their detached suites. Unfortunately, the starting price was $1000.00 each night. Although her family could afford it, it was unreasonable to ask them to pay for such things. “So what do you say?” 

Wanda looked at Maria, her eyes were practically pleading for Wanda to stay but as she looked back at Y/n, she couldn’t understand what was behind those brown eyes. ‘Did she want me to stay?’ 

But before she could overthink, the slight nod Y/n gave made her smile. “I guess I have a hotel to cancel.” 

Maria squealed in delight as she grabbed her phone from the counter. “Don’t worry about that dear. I know the owner and they will be able to cancel for me. Why don’t you go ahead and settle into the guest room beside Y/n’s. How long will you be staying with us?” 

Before she could respond, Y/n finally spoke, “Two weeks. She’s going to be keeping me company while you and father go to New York.” Wanda didn’t know how it was possible but somehow, Maria’s smile grew even bigger. “Let’s go.” 

Giving a small wave towards Maria, Wanda followed behind Y/n, looking at the various walls that were decorated with family pictures. Feeling overwhelmingly alarmed by the lack of reaction from Y/n, Wanda was thinking of ways to explain her attendance. 

Was it better to go with the ‘I really want you to come back to Evergreen University for my sake because I miss you’ or ‘the University made a mistake and wants you back. They simply asked me to deliver it to you’? Regardless, no explanation or lie felt satisfactory. 

“Welcome to your room.” The door was slowly pushed open by the light coming from the backyard touched the hallway. With its warm glow, the sky blue room felt more comforting. As Wanda slowly walked in and marveled at the size of it, Y/n dropped the bag off at the luggage rack beside the dresser. 

Touching the wall the shiplaps, Wanda grew impressed at how clean everything was. “There’s a private bathroom at that door with a connecting closet. Any spare linens and towels you will need are in there. Plus, if you don’t have enough hygienic products, the drawers under the sink should provide enough options for you.” 

Y/n clicked her tongue, thinking of any other rules she needed to inform Wanda. “Since it will be just you and I, you don’t have to worry too much about how you dress. Everything in the house is free for you to tour around besides my parent’s room and my father’s office.” 

Y/n walked to the other side of the room, opening the glass door that pushed out, allowing the whole room to be open to the backyard. “We don’t really have bugs over here so if you want to have a nice breeze, just open the door like this. But at night, just remember to lock it up for security purposes.”

Y/n pulled the door back along its place causing a slight click when everything returned to normal. “I know you must be tired so I’ll let you get situated. In like three hours, I’ll take you out for dinner. Is ramen and sushi fine with you?” 

Wanda blushed at Y/n’s stare. Sure, there were countless times they’ve looked each other in the eye, but something about this felt new. Like they weren’t rivals but simply friends. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” 

“Perfect. Let me take care of some things before my parents leave for their trip.” Y/n grabbed the door handle.

“Wait - Y/n,” Y/n looked back to Wanda, “thank you.” With a small smile, the brown eyed door closed the door allowing Wanda to finally relax. 

“How am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad that you decided to take an impromptu vacation at Y/n’s? I mean, didn’t you just get Dad to accept her coming back?” Pietro groaned over the phone, feeling unbelievably stressed at the situation his sister put him in. 

“You’ll figure out a way because you owe me. You know I wouldn’t do such a thing like this at all.” Wanda got off the bed as she hung up the wet towel on the hook. She looked up at the clock noticing that she had around thirty minutes left before Y/n would come to get her. 

“That’s what makes me worry. This isn’t like you. Usually you hate spontaneous things, always preferring to know what’s going to happen in the next month with as much detail as possible.” Wanda grabbed the blow dryer under the sink, preparing to end the conversation with Pietro. His opinions echoed loudly in the room as Wanda stood trying to figure out why she hadn’t spoken up to correct Y/n earlier. 

“I don’t know why…but it’s like Y/n brings out a different side of me. It comes with so much uncertainty that it scares me.” Looking over herself in the mirror, Wanda could predict just about everything in her life. To when she’ll probably get married, receive a nobel prize, build her dream house, and start a family, everything was just so calculated. “Like what if I make a fool of myself?”

Pietro was silent for a second, knowing his words would have a deep impact on Wanda. With a sigh, he said, “Wands…I honestly do hope you make a fool of yourself. Because you’ll be one step closer to realizing that the unpredictable part of life is what makes the stress and worries so much more worth it.” 

There was a knock on the other side of the door. Pietro had covered the phone and yelled, “Coming!” 

“Look, I gotta go. I think Mom and Dad are wanting to get dinner outside. I’ll let them know about the change of plans. Just keep me updated, okay?” 

“I will. Bye Piet, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I’m not getting in that thing.” Wanda stood outside the garage, the contraption that Y/n called a car by no means looked safe to even drive. 

“Maximoff, I promise it’s safe. Plus, it’s a small town meaning less likely for crashes and hardly a long driving time.” Y/n leaned up against the driver’s side. The cocky smile on her face made Wanda blush. 

“For God’s sake, it doesn’t have doors.” Wanda pointed out, hoping that Y/n would want to use the car beside it. 

“It’s a Jeep, Maximoff. That’s the whole point.” Y/n hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition. Soon, the roar of the engine and the bright lights came on. Rolling forward, Y/n stopped right beside Wanda. 

With her right arm behind the passenger seat, the messy beach curls in her hair, Wanda could’ve sworn that she was at the wrong place. Because where did the Y/n from Evergreen University go? The one that would stay in the library just as long as she did. The one that was just as focused on academics as she was. 

Because never would she have imagined that this would be the same Y/n. The one that feels like academics is just a side thing in her life. ‘Did our competition rob me of seeing the real you?’ 

“Please don’t make me drag you into this. I’ll even grab my motorcycle helmet-”

“You have a motorcycle?!” There Y/n goes again, with her ever loving cocky smile. Like she knew that Wanda was scared and was enjoying it. And if this is what Y/n looked like with a little bit of confidence, imagine what a lot would do. 

“Look, we can ride that on a different day. Now for the love of God Maximoff, please get in the car and let me take you out to eat.” 

Looking into those brown eyes, Wanda could only think one thing, ‘How could I ever deny her?’

So as much as she reluctantly wanted to get in, she took a deep breath and hopped inside. “If we crash, you owe me your life, Y/l/n.”  

True to Y/n’s word, the town was close. One minute, the curves of the roads were surrounded with a vast forest. The alpine smell constantly surrounded them. Feeling the wind through her hands, Wanda almost missed the second that the coast came back. 

“Maximoff, look.” The sun sprawled on their skin with its last minutes in the sky. It was as if the sun demanded to be looked at with its blend of colors. And as they go back through a row of trees that arched over the road, Wanda couldn’t help but be entranced by it all. 

And at the very last mile of the route, right at the opposite side was the coast. Capturing Wanda's attention, she didn’t dare to focus on how close the car was to the guard rail, only trusting the fact that Y/n would never crash. Instead, Wanda focused on how at this very moment, her and Y/n shared the same view and the same admiration for the role. And that was enterally hers. 

It wasn’t until Y/n pulled into the parking lot of the ramen and sushi place that she realized the ride was over. The coast was still perfectly in view and appeared to be around a 5-10 minute walk. If she wasn’t so hungry, Wanda would have almost asked to ditch the restaurant and just sit at the beach. 

So as they walked inside, the brunette simply hoped that on some other day, they could have that talk on the beach. But for now, the food sounded amazing. 

“Booth for two please.” Wanda stood close behind Y/n as the waitress looked at Wanda with almost a surprised look. 

“Follow me this way, Y/n.” The restaurant was small in size but was filled with a lot of character. On the main side of the restaurant was a large counter that had an up close view of the chef’s making the sushi. Right on the opposite side were small booths that could fit a family of four. However, that was all the space the restaurant had. 

Seated at the back left corner, the waitress walked away to get their complimentary entrees and water. “So, what do you think? I know it’s rather small but I promise, the food is absolutely amazing. My family knows the chef personally and he makes the best everytime.” 

“It seems like your family knows a lot of people. First the local hotel manager and now the head chef of this business.”  Wanda lightly joked as the shrimp tempura and miso soup was placed between them. 

“Are you two ready to order?” Grabbing her pen and pad, the waitress mainly looked at Y/n for approval. Although there was no inkling that the girl was interested in Y/n, the sour thoughts of it made Wanda slightly frown. 

“Hey Chelsea, can we actually get my usual and can you add the tonkotsu ramen?” Chelsea flashed a pretty smile as she collected the menus, knowing it was rather pointless to have even set them out. 

“Sure thing. We’ll have that right up for you.” Y/n smiled back as she focused back on Wanda. “Sorry about that. But yeah, my family is pretty connected with the town. I think how small the population is, everyone's parents had known each other from high school. And I guess it’s the same with me. Majority of the people I grew up with either stay or leave for a bigger city.” 

“What about you? Are you wanting to leave this place?” Y/n thought it over as she finally grabbed her own boul to pour some miso soup. 

“I’ve thought about it. Leave the town for a couple years. See what it’s like out there. But I know myself. I’ll probably end up coming back here.” Blowing on the spoon, Y/n took her first sip, enjoying the rich flavor of it. 

“Coming back to a place like this must be nice. While I do love my home, something about your little part of Earth has honestly got me jealous.” Y/n smirked, enjoying the fact that Wanda loved her hometown already. 

“Life out here feels a bit more simple. Don’t get me wrong though, I do like what Evergreen does bring me.” 

Placing her hand under her chin, Wanda leaned closer, wanting to hear more about Y/n’s thoughts. “What does Evergreen have that this place doesn’t?” 

Was it delusional to think that maybe Y/n would have said ‘you’ at that very moment? Was it so wrong to want that? Because Wanda couldn’t help but feel that way as she waited for Y/n’s answer. And maybe she would have been satisfied hearing anything if it weren’t for another interruption. 

“Here is your food. One sushi platter with a side of edamame for Y/n. And one tonkotsu ramen for you.” Sliding the hot food on the table, Wanda’s appetite suddenly grew large at the ramen in front of her. 

“If you need anything else, please let me know.” Not bothering to wait for the food to slightly cool, Wanda began eating, immediately enjoying Y/n’s choice of ramen.

“I know I should be concerned about how you found me,” with cheeks stuffed with sushi, Y/n covered her mouth as she spoke with her mouth full, “but I really don’t care. You have your ways considering you are a Maximoff.”

Swallowing the food, Y/n wiped her face almost full from all the sushi and ramen they had ordered. “But what I do care about is why you decided to come?” Y/n leaned forward as she stared directly into Wanda’s eyes. “It’s a pretty long flight. Not only that, I know you live around an hour or two from Evergreen. So you coming here was not some mere coincidence.” 

Sometimes Wanda hated how smart Y/n was and in this very moment, she absolutely despised it. If it weren’t for the somewhat dark atmosphere of the restaurant, Wanda was certain that Y/n would see how nervous she was.

Stuffing more noodles in her mouth, Wanda avoided looking at Y/n, unsure of how to bring up the manila envelope sitting in her room. ‘Would she be mad to find out that I didn’t come here originally to hang out?’

Leaning back in her seat, Y/n grabbed the last piece of her sushi. While pointing the food at Wanda, Y/n said, “Well, regardless of that…I do know that I want you to stay…especially since you’ve gone through the trouble of seeing me.” 

Growing up, Wanda hardly grew up with reassurance. Maybe it was because she didn’t really need reassurance. After all, her confidence in her calculated life was what gave her reassurance. So as she stared at the ceiling, unable to get over their conversation at the restaurant, Wanda realized that she craved reassurance. 

To be wanted by Y/n felt overwhelming in so many ways. But as her heart beated in rapid ways, she couldn’t help but keep the confession close to her mind and heart. To forever remember it. Because why did it feel so nice to be wanted? Why did something so casually stated have such an impact on her? 

Getting up from her bed, Wanda’s thoughts drifted to Y/n again, wondering if she over thought about things too. ‘Has she ever replayed moments of us in her head?’ 

Shaking her head, Wanda didn’t dare to go to that territory at this time. Already unable to sleep, she slowly opened the door and walked to the kitchen. Looking through the cabinets, she finally was able to find the glass cups. Taking one, she filled it with tap water as she stared at the ocean and the moon.

However, the glow from the firepit caught her eye. Feeling the need to see it closer, Wanda walked to the door and entered the backyard. The stone steps led to the middle of the backyard where the firepit was placed. But as Wanda purposely stepped on the grass, she couldn’t believe how soft it was. 

Trekking through the grass, Wanda could see Y/n’s outline sitting at one of the chairs. Once she was close enough, she spoke up and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Wanda sat at the free chair that was beside Y/n, enjoying the warmth that the firepit had provided. “A little bit. How about you? Missing home already?” 

The ocean was loud at night, but something about the way it was crashing up against the shore felt relaxing, almost lulling her to sleep. “My mind feels…busy. Can’t sleep with too many thoughts running around.” 

“I see…even when the summer is here, your mind stays thinking.” 

‘Yeah, but it hasn’t stopped thinking about you.’ Feeling too vulnerable to admit her own thoughts, Wand focused on the fire infront of her. 

Letting the silence surround them, the breeze from the ocean and the crackle from the fire pit comforted the two as they sat in their own thoughts. The sounds of nature almost made Wanda’s mind grow silent, like this was the medicine it needed. 

But silence could only go on for so long before Wanda grew curious. “I never knew you grew up in a place like this.”

“Well, you never really asked.” Wanda chuckled. This was the Y/n she knew. The one that was always quick witted. 

“Well, with a place like this, you must have grown up doing a water sport.” Wanda twisted her position to lay on her side, hoping to make eye contact with Y/n. 

“I didn’t do sports really growing up. They only offered the typical stuff like soccer and basketball. I was mainly interested in kayaking and water rafting from an early age.” Y/n looked over at Wanda and smiled. It was a nice feeling to just talk to each other without the constant bickering about school. “But in highschool, they offered a sailing team and I decided to join. Ever since then, it’s been a big hobby of mine.”

Pointing over at the boats, Y/n continued, “You see that sail boat right there? That one is mine.” Looking over at the dock, Wanda could easily see the all white sailboat.

“Jeez, she’s really pretty. And almost as huge as your ego.” Y/n scoffed at Wanda’s quick jab, but the smile on her face persisted. “Who taught you all of this though? Did you have a coach growing up?” There was a small twitch in Y/n’s smile that Wanda caught. Almost wanting to apologize, she waited for Y/n to speak. 

“My father taught me everything about the ocean. That’s actually part of what his business is in. So from fishing, boating, sailing, kayaking, he taught me.” There was a slight pause as Y/n looked out at the ocean, almost like she was missing the simpler times. But within a second, the smile was back on her face as she looked back at Wanda. 

“How come you didn’t major in something like this? It seems like it’s your calling compared to your double major of computer engineering and accounting.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders almost in a ‘it’s pretty obvious’ manner. 

“I do like my majors, but don’t ever mention to my father that I’m in accounting. He doesn’t really need to know that.” Wanda zipped her lips and threw the key away causing Y/n’s smile to further widen. “But I guess I wanted to keep this part of my life as a hobby…I see what it does to people when you suddenly turn a passion into a job…and it’s not the best.”

Sitting up from her seat, Y/n sat at the edge facing Wanda. “I want this part of me to be part of the reason that I need a well paying job. So that way I can support all the hobbies that come with loving the ocean. Because there’s one thing I truly love more than anything in the world and it’s being out there.” 

Reaching her hand out, Y/n got up with an excited look on her face. “Let me show you something.” 

Wanda ignored the feeling in her chest as she grabbed Y/n’s hand. She was led down further down the backyard and down the stairs and on to the dock, hand’s never breaking apart. 

Leading the way to her sailboat, Y/n helped Wanda climb up the ladder and onto the deck. “Meet my precious boat Halfway.” 

Wanda smiled in confusion of the name. “Halfway? Why that name?” The name was odd, but just like another secret, Wanda stashed it in her mind for safe keeping. 

“Stay a while and you’ll know. But you said you were unable to sleep, right?” Wanda nodded in agreement causing Y/n to go into the cabin. 

Following her inside, Wanda could barely see what was in the room with how dark it was. She did see Y/n turn on the heater as well as climb on the queen sized bed that was at the end of the room. Popping open the hatch, the light from the moon suddenly beamed into the cabin. 

“Welcome to the best sleep you’ll ever have.” Wanda had a ridiculous look on her face as she waited for Y/n to say this was a joke. But as her rival continued to smile, she knew it was serious. 

“Is this even safe?” Y/n groaned at Wanda’s apprehensiveness and pulled her closer to the bed. 

“We are currently docked so there’s no way for us to be pulled to sea. Plus, even if we were, I know how to get us back home.” Seeing Wanda’s relucantat face caused Y/n to get closer, to better plead her case. “But Maximoff you have to try it. Otherwise, you’ll always think that sleeping on land is the best thing when in fact, it’s not.” 

Wanda thought of multiple assumptions or facts as to why Y/n’s statement was in fact wrong. Getting the ‘best’ sleep was opinionated. Plus, the meer movement of the ocean would probably cause someone to get seasick during their sleep. Not only that, would bugs get in? 

The thoughts in her head spiral, but the more the moon shone into those brown eyes, she knew she couldn’t resist. 

So with a sigh, Wanda asked, “Can this fit even fit the both of us?”

“It can definitely fit the both of us. Plus, I’ll put a pillow in between incase I accidentally get too close at night.” 

Wanda started to blush again at the thought of cuddling Y/n. “If I wake up cranky, I’m blaming you Y/l/n.”

“And if I’m right, you’ll have to go kayaking with me.” Unable to back down from a deal, Wanda smirked, the same way she did back at Evergreen. 

“Deal.” 

Chapter 5

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[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN 2. little series w/ LEEKNOW + HYUNJIN

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader x lee minho genre + warnings: slight angst wc: 3.5k mina's note: I really enjoyed writing this. Sorry it took a while! This part was was like a filler, I know.

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part one, part three ending one

“You done crying yet or?” Hyunjin jokes after watching over you for the past thirty minutes. He was in the drivers seat handing out countless tissues to you, who was in his passenger’s.

“Hyunjin, stop,” you crack up at his teasing. You were done crying now, you just weren’t done being upset yet. A heavy feeling still lingering around your shoulders as you try your best to block out Minho’s words circulating in your head.

“Are you still not going to tell me what he said to you in the bathroom?” A hand comes to wipe away the last of your tears, his tone gentler now.

Hyunjin can see the marks on your neck, anyone can. He can tell what happened in the bathroom and he knows Minho must’ve said something to overwhelmed you to cry, but he just doesn’t know what exactly.

“I don’t want to re-live it Hyunjin,” you couldn’t tell him. You didn’t want to tell him that you said the L word to Minho within the same month you got rejected by him. Hyunjin could never judge you for that but how can you tell him without telling the whole thing, how it was forced out of you. Dirty? Dirty because of Hyunjin? The words repeats again, haunting you. Hyunjin was involved in Minho’s mean and hurtful words and you feel guilty. Hyunjin did absolutely nothing wrong, he didn’t deserved to be dragged into whatever mess was going on between you and Minho.

“Why? Is it because you might cry again?” He playfully says, not wanting you to feel downhearted at your own actions. He lets out a giggle after observing how you quickly pierced your eyes at him sassily - something you picked up from him. It doesn't matter what situation you're in, Hyunjin always makes it light hearted. He's so playful but in a way where he is still careful and you never fail to warm up to him. Just like this moment.

“I just got my heart broken by the city’s fuckboy, I don’t need the city’s heartbreaker to feed into it,” you chuckle and he follows with furrowed brows, unable to keep a straight face at the names.

“Those names are crazy Y/N,” he remarks.

“I actually don’t think you’re a heartbreaker Hyunjin, it’s just what everyone calls you,” you reassured him, hand finding his to give him a tight squeeze.

"I probably am one," he held yours back tighter, letting you know he didn’t take it to heart. "I'm curious though," he continues .

“Hmm?”

“Curious to why the city’s fuckboy keeps yelling at you,” you eyed him again, arms crossed this time with a fake pout. “Or is it that you’re just a cry baby?” he laughs but he was serious though, he wanted to see why Minho keeps leaving you in tears.

“I’m not a cry baby,” you defend yourself. “You’re probably tired of me crying hey? I know how to smile too!” To be fair, you were kind of a cry baby especially as this is the second time he has picked you up and wiped away your tears, all within a month.

“Wait, can you actually?” he continues.

“I’m actually really sweet Hyunjin, I promise!”

“How about the city’s heartbreaker takes you out one day?” The tension from the incident with Minho start to disappear as Hyunjin slowly soothes it, directing your attention somewhere else - something he is very good at.

“Hmm?” brows furrowed together. His question had taken you by surprise, you were unsure if he was serious. “Like on a date?” You clarified.

“Mhmm,” he confirmed. “So you can show me how sweet you can be and that you’re not just a cry baby.” He already knows how sweet you are. Last couple of weeks you guys spent together talking about everything and nothings have really shown him what type of person you are. You were caring, cheerful, playful. You loved to tease, loves to be teased and takes on jokes like a champ. You were just full of laughter and happiness and meeting someone like you is hard for Hyunjin. It seems that he has developed a soft spot for you, but unlike Minho he isn’t afraid to show you.

You just giggle back, unaware of the thoughts going through Hyunjin’s head, everything falling into silence right after.

Hyunjin is a lovely person and you hate to say yes just to distract yourself from Minho. But Hyunjin has that effect on you, where he has made you forgot about Minho whenever you’re with him. You don’t know how to explain it. Like earlier tonight before all of this, when you went with him to the party, you had zero care for anyone and anything besides Hyunjin and wine. Or like right now, Minho was slowly fading away in your head. If you give him a chance, maybe he’ll be better than Minho. He always was, seeing as he was the one who was here, unlike Minho who didn’t even chase after you.

“Hyune?”

“Hmm?”

“A date with you sounds cool,” your silly smile returning. He couldn’t control his smile back, his eyes turning into thin lines as his upper lips disappears a little showing his white pearlys.

The man who broke your heart an hour ago long forgotten, in moments like this.

+

“You okay hyung?” Han asks, after observing Minho for the past hour just downing his drinks.

“Yeah.. Good.. I’m good.” Minho could barely reply, slurring on his words clearly intoxicated.

“What happened in the bathroom? What did you do to her?” Han was worried about you both. He still doesn't understand what you did to get Minho to push you away like that, especially when Minho would used to reschedule his plans with Han and their friend group just to be with you. It was clear to Han that you guys had something going on. Minho wasn’t much of a drinker too but seeing him suddenly finish all these drinks made Han sense something was up.

“Nothing, I just.. Nothing just shooed her away like usual,” Minho replied, acting uninterested in the conversation.

“Marks on your neck tells me otherwise,” Han replied back, eyeing up at his hyung. Minho doesn’t reply, instead he stays quiet, one hand coming into contact with the marks you left on his skin. His head is in a daze, the scene of you pressing kisses to his neck, how soft your plump lips felt, your tiny hands holding the back of his neck to keep him in place while the other was wrapped around his..

“Hyung? Hey hyung?” Han snaps the older man out of his thoughts, holding him by the shoulder trying to steady him. “She’s a good girl. If you don’t like her don’t do that to her.”

“She gave me the marks Jisung.. I didn’t do anything to her,” Minho huffed, trying to defend himself.

“Sure, it’s not like she didn’t walk out of the bathroom with marks herself,” Minho just rolls his eyes. “If you don’t like her like that, stop hurting her.”

“Looks like you also want to fuck her, seeing as how you’re talking about her-”

“-Just because I feel sorry for her doesn’t mean I want to fuck her, hyung. No girl should be treated like that,”

“Whatever,” Minho pushes the smaller boy’s arms off his shoulders making him stumble back a bit.

“See how you act? You’re a dick. How is it that every other girl gets let off easily when they admit they like you and when Y/N does it she gets yelled at?” Han was over his hyung’s antics, also fuming from the way he was pushed even though he was only trying to help him up.

“Last month you pushed her away then tonight you’re all over her again just because she’s with someone else. You’re so possessive. What did you do to her in the bathroom?!” Han has never called Minho out like this but the way Minho acted was very possessive. It was like he hates seeing other people interested or talk about things that was his. In this instance, you.

“I don’t know,” as much as he hates to admit it, your words engraved itself to his brain. He couldn’t come up with a reason why he treated you the way he did tonight or ever. Just the words I love you bouncing in his head, hitting every surface of his brain. Did he like you back? He’s not in-love with you right? Or was he just possessive over you? Did he want you to himself only? Minho was overwhelmed with his thoughts, unable to voice anything else, eyes just seeking some sort of help from the younger boy.

“You okay hyung?”

“No.”

+

A couple weeks go by and Minho catches himself thinking about you every second pf his day. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. He contacted so many girl just to ghost them before they meet up as he has this feeling of guilt. Not towards the girls, they don’t mean anything to him but guilt towards you. It was like he was doing something wrong to you. But you weren’t even his and he doesn’t even like you back. He has just be constantly in and out, and his friends aren’t any help either. Well to be fair, he’s only been keeping his thoughts to himself so it’s not really his friend’s fault. But you and Hyunjin has been the topic of the week, updates of where you guys went or what you guys did was brought up every single day in conversation.. well ofcourse it would, seeing as how Hyunjin and Minho shares mutual friends.

“You think he really likes her?” Felix asks the others.

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have come with her to the party the other week,” Chan clarified and they nod in agreement.

“Why wonder we haven’t seen him all of last month, he was with Y/N.”

Minho listens to the conversation, quietly contributing and attacking Hyunjin in his head. Yeah but she doesn’t like him. She clearly loves someone else.

“Wasn’t she one of your flings?” Chan’s question wakes Minho up.

“Hmm? Y/N?” Your name comes out more tender than expected from his lips. “I don’t remember,” Minho lies.

“Anyways, I reckon the photo he took of her from earlier this week was cute,” Seungmin says, the rest giggling like high school girls at their friends love life.

“Looks like the heartbreaker Hyunjin found someone he really likes.”

“And Y/N seems to really like him too,” Minho was furious, wanting to tell them what the reality was but even himself wasn’t sure if it was true anymore. Maybe you have fallen for Hyunjin. Maybe you have forgotten all about Minho now.

He looks to his side, watching Felix swipe through Hyunjin’s instagram story. It was the first time he saw you since. You were as pretty as ever. Hair in a half up half down look, in a black dress looking and smiling at Hyunjin’s camera.

Hyunjin had taken you out to one of his favourite bakery and art museum. He had told you to wear something pretty, and be ready by noon. You got dolled up, picking out your most gorgeous dress and by the time he promised, he messaged you to come outside. Hyunjin was lean up against his car, his camera strap across his body, a small bouquet in his hand. It was something you never experienced before, you couldn’t help but smile instantly at the sight. Oh how sweet he was, and definitely very handsome.

“You look like you can be very sweet, Y/N,” he playfully says before pulling you into a hug. You hold him back, arms wrapping around his body pressing your cheeks against his toned chest, staying there a little bit longer than you extended.

“Ready to go?” He asks, and you remove yourself.

“Mhmm, ready to go and ready to show you I can be sweet!” The conversation you had with yourself, a couple days ago still implanted in your head. You will give it a try with Hyunjin. He has always treated you well, despite his title he received from everyone, but a little part of you is afraid. Minho treated you well too, but turned his back on you the second you liked him. You were afraid you were going to fall for it again. Hyunjin could never make you fall for him then ditch you right? But to be honest, has Minho ever picked you up in broad day light like this? No. You guys would sneak around all the time, and was only ever relaxed in a closed off area - that being his house. Minho has never planned a date this. But did your heart wanted that more than this? A unlike tingling heavy feeling fallen in your chest, the feeling is different.

As Felix continues to tap his screen, more images of the date appears. You guys spend a while in the coffee shop just goofing around with each other, then at the art museum.. Oh the art museum.. countless photos of you standing infront of and looking at the art works makes Minho go red.

“Fuck-” Minho bites, fist forming into balls as he feels his blood boiling. Minho was angry now, he was jealous. He didn’t ever show you off like this and was mad someone was able to do.

“Gotta go, gotta go call Bella,” Minho walks out, everyone else looking around trying to seek a reason why he was acting like that.

+

It was dark and late, 9pm to be exact. Silence fill the air as you and Hyunjin both just sit in his car. You shyly glance over to him, unsure of what to do now, he just gives you a smile. You really enjoyed your day with him, it was fun and quite the romantic day. But do you invite him in now? Do you take it slow? What would you do if you invite him in anyways?

"I enjoyed today with you too Hyune," you break the silence. "I'm actually really tried from everything though" you lie, you needed to distant yourself for the rest of the night, to work out what you were feeling. You needed to take it slow. The tingling sensation before was still around you, a feeling you can't explain. "I think I might start ready for bed," you observe his reactions, but there is none. Just him keeping a small smile like earlier.

"We did so much today, I’m tired and ready for bed too," he agrees, one hand reaches over to hold yours. He was so soft, it's like he knows the barrier you had set up. He doesn't questions it and just lets it be.

"Thank you Hyune," you reply, twisting your wrist so your fingers can interlock with his now, giving him some sort of affirmation. You lean in towards him and ahe air grows a bit cold now. You had to do it, to show your gratitude. You continue to move in, giving him a peck to his cheeks. Hyunjin freezes in return, the sudden affection makes him flustered. "Goodnight Hyune." You retracted back your hand, collecting your stuff, along with your nice bouquet of flowers and exiting his car.

It was clear to Hyunjin after the peck that he liked you. He really liked you but he was still unsure of where your feelings stands. Regardless, he wanted to keep trying with you.

+

You were in the middle of the dance floor, to the grand party that Hyunjin asked you to be his date at. Well technically, you were invited by Minho's mum but you can't turn down a cute date with Hyunjin.

“Where are you?” You ask on the phone, eyes searching for a lost Hyunjin. He has disappeared from your sight so suddenly after you guys had spend a hour of drinking the free wine.

“At the table we were before," you can hear him slurring on his words, unable to keep your giggles in at how tipsy he is.

“Okay, coming! Stay where you are," as you turn around someone pulls you back, making you stumble a bit forward into them.

“Can I talk to you?” You encounter a familiar face. Minho was standing in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist not painfully but strong enough for you not to pull back. Your eyes scan his face. He looked so different. He had his hair down covering his forehead, something he never wears out in public. His eyes were coated with a thin cover of gloss, almost looks like he had been draining in his emotions for the longest time ever. Minho looked so soft, you were taken back.

“I gotta go. Hyune’s waiting for me,” you reply trying to pull away from him. You needed to avoid Minho, unsure why but you had too.

“Hyune?”

“Yes, Hyune,” you managed to escape and walked off, only because he loosen his grip. Minho was left on the middle of the dance floor, watching you make your way through the crowd.

“Hyune?” He whispers to himself, confused. A nickname already? Maybe the boys were right.

You don’t know why but a sudden urge to spin around got the best of you.

“Hey Min!” The nickname makes him instantly turn around but he knows it wasn’t going to be you standing there, so he prepared himself for whoever was there.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” he lied to the gorgeous woman infront of him, Bella.

You watch as Minho smile at her, his hand coming in contact with her cheek. You spun around again, not wanting to watch any more of what he got up to, going back to Hyunjin.

+

The music was blaring now and you feel yourself getting light headed from the countless shots and mimosas you consumed. You lean into Hyunjin’s chest, wanting to stay still for a minute to regain control of your body.

Minho doesn't know how he got here but there he stood a couple steps infront of you, watching you with Hyunjin. He has Bella in-front of him holding his hands as she sways to the music, seeking for his attention.

“Hey, I’m losing you here Y/N,” Hyunjin laughs, although him himself was feeling the same thing. He had to control it, he couldn’t let you both loose to alcohol.

“I’m so tired Hyune,” you replied, unable to move your head from his upper chest.

“You wanna go sit down?” He asked, hands coming to your waist to help hold you up. The small contact with your body makes you widen your eyes. You steady yourself back on your heels as you make eye contact with the sweet boy in front you. Your eyes catch his lips for a second, they were so plump, so full and the perfect shade of pink, almost a reddish. A thought ran through your head and you feel guilty about it but you wanted to do it. You want to feel his lips on yours to confirm that feeling that keeps staying around in your chest. His eyes flutter from your eyes to your lips. You looked so pretty like this, your cheeks was pink, eyes looks so bright and full, you were so kissable. Hyunjin slowly leans in, one had holding your face and when he doesn’t see a signal of you avoiding it, he closes the gap between your lips.

Minho’s heart sinks watching Hyunjin kiss you. He has always been possessive of you, hating when your attention is on another person. He has always been annoyed, always been angry but right now, he feels broken, he feels hurt. He didn’t come here with Bella because he liked her. He came here with Bella because he wanted to use her as a distraction. He wanted to use her to get over you. He doesn’t realise it until now, after witnessing the kiss, that since the night you confessed your feelings to him, he felt the same. He felt the same but he was too afraid to say it, to show it. Liking someone was overwhelming, let alone loving someone. Minho was just afraid.

The feeling doesn’t go away, it’s heavy it’s numbing your body. You pull away from Hyunjin’s lips, hands on his chest to help you detach. You can’t keep his eye contact, letting out a heavy breath.

“Hyune, I..” you look up over his shoulder and catches Minho eyes as he towers over Bella. Minho stops to observe you, observing your next move. For a second the world stops, everyone’s face was blurred, the music goes from blaring loud to a long beep, something you hear when your brain restarts similar to the sound in movies when the main character watches someone close to them die. It was only you and Minho.

{Tag list 🏷️@20minsat180dgegrees : @feybin : @whosanaanyway : @k0nst3nceee : @hoes4lino : @ihatewritingshit : @armystay89 : @redstayrosie : @captainchrisstan }

[bigassmoonchild]

Thirteen

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: As much as Simon wanted to talk to you, he still had a job to do. You were hurting beyond belief, and he wanted to right his wrongs. He doesn't know what's happening back at base, though, with Soap and eventually yourself.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/Some Comfort, Injured Price, Nearly Dead Soap, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentions of Pregnancy, Possible Death, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: Shorter chapter, I'm sorry, but it's almost a filler chapter I guess? Anyways. Holy shit. 10 parts already?? I never would've expected this, but here we are! I know I keep saying it, but there may not be many more chapters after this (depending on how it evolves). Thank you all for the support and here is chapter 10! (content beneath the cut and my asks are open <3)

P.S: All asks are going to be completed tomorrow, it's getting late and I still need to eat <3 but still much love!!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Simon never made it to you. He wasn't able to talk to you, because it seemed like you had disappeared. He asked around, people didn't know entirely where you were but they had seen you disappear into an operating room and watched Soap follow soon after. From then, you hadn't been seen.

It had been thirteen hours. Thirteen hours of being unsure of how his packmate was, unsure of what his mate was thinking. He had no clue what was happening. Price had been there, still being stitched up and hobbling around on crutches (you'd pushed for him using a wheelchair, but his pride got in the way).

"There's not much you can do, mate," Price said, grasping at Simons shoulder to not only try and comfort him, but regain his balance. "You're needed in the conference room as well," Price whispered, ducking his head down.

Whipping his head around, Simon looks at him, brows furrowed. "Price, I need to be here, for Soap, for..." his eyes drifted away, thinking about you. "I need to be here," he whispered, shaking his head slowly.

Price gave a little grimace. "I understand, but-

"No!" Simons voice raised, moving to shove Prices hand off of him before realizing the crutches were sliding from under him. "No, you don't understand," Price looked away, jaw clenching. Shaking his head, Simon looked away. "I'll go, but I need to be able to talk to her," he whispered.

"I'll figure out a way, during the mission," Price told him. With a moment to allow Price to regain his balance, Simon took off. He'd need to talk to you, as soon as he could, but first? His job.

It took thirteen and a half hours to get Soap stabilized. Thirteen and a half hours before you could get back out of the OR, before you could get back to your nest. The second you stepped out of the OR, walking to make sure Soaps nurse would know exactly what to do, you ran into Price.

"You should be resting," you told him, glancing at the way he wobbled on the crutches. "Or in a wheelchair,"

"You know my opinion on a wheelchair," he said. Looking around, making sure the two of you were the only people around, he looked straight into your eyes. "He's on a mission," he whispered. "Was just sent off a few minutes ago, he got briefed half an hour ago," you looked away.

There was no thinking, you couldn't even process the fact that he was gone. Without talking to you. Gone.

"So I was thirteen hours too late?" You whispered, feeling your throat burning with the telltale sign of a good cry coming up. "How dangerous is it?"

Price shrugged, shaking his head. You gave a huff, moving to walk ahead but slow enough Price could keep up. There was nothing you wanted more than to just run away, stay in your actual home, in the nice and large nest you'd built there.

With a deep sigh, you began speaking with the nurse you found. Telling her how often to change the bandages, who to call in case something happened overnight, what to do if something went wrong. She listened closely, still just barely getting through the beginnings of her career.

Walking away, you glanced over at Price. "Did he say anything? About what... happened?" Price shrugged again and you groaned, dropping your head back. "Is that all you can do, now? Shrug?" He barked a laugh, dropping his head before groaning. You moved towards him, going to grab at where you knew the sutures were before he put his hand up.

"Just sore, really. Moved the wrong way," he told you and you nodded. As you kept walking, just a bit slower now. The two of you walked, nearly aimlessly, throughout the compound. You said nothing, he said nothing and you just existed. For a few moments, you were finally able to just exist in the peace that the compound gave you.

There wasn't much peace, though. Your thoughts were winding in circles, mostly around you and Simon. Your mate.

You could feel the hurt there, you could feel the absolute pain that took you over when you thought about how he acted or treated you sometimes. But there were those other times that helped numb the pain.

How he held you, so delicately. How he loved you, so carefully. His careful moves of making sure that you were comfortable, how sweet he was when courting you. Eating lunch and dinner together, giggling about all of the people around you. Gossiping.

Price allowed you to leave, explaining he needed time to call his own Omega and make sure the pups were behaving and you'd giggled with that. You missed the time between becoming okay with pups and right before everything happened after his rut.

In your nest, you sat there, grieving what you had and what you could have had. With him, you hadn't felt so loved in those few moments. You hadn't realized how loved you'd been. But you knew how hurt you became, and you weren't entirely sure how much longer you could stand it. How much longer you could sit there and allow him to hurt you.

The next week and a half flew by. You'd been busy ensuring that Soap was okay, making sure that Price was kept updated on everything, making sure he took the necessary amount of rest he needed. Filling out paperwork, training your squad and having little to no time of your own.

At this point, you were sick. Your stomach was in knots all the time, you had thrown up a few times throughout the week but you didn't think much of it. You were working yourself to what felt like the bone, so it made sense to you why you were sick. You barely had the time to slow down, barely ate and barely slept.

You were sick. That's what you kept on telling yourself, because any other explanation would hurt you even worse. And the nesting, you figured, was because you were already so stressed out from Simon being gone. You were eating more because you were hungry.

So damned hungry.

Amanda was the one who pushed you to take the day off, to figure out what you were coming down with. Your head wasn't stuffy, so you weren't affected by a cold or anything of that sort. You were feeling nauseous and sick, you spent some time bent over the toilet trying to hold your breakfast or dinner down.

Sick.

That's what you were, even if the two pink little lines were telling you something different. You didn't have to pay attention to that, because these little things were oftentimes wrong. You were sick, because you were throwing up and nauseous and dizzy sometimes. You were nesting because you were sick and missing your Alpha, you were eating more because you hadn't been eating well.

There was nothing about the blood test that gave a reason for those two little lines to appear, even if you could see it clear as day. You weren't pregnant, because Alpha wasn't here and may never come home. You weren't pregnant, because Alpha wasn't sure if he wanted it, and the best you could do was hide.

The knocking on your door came violently and unexpected. You had been hunched over the toilet bowl when it came and, with a quick drink of water, you answered it to see Price there, holding a radio.

"Take this, you have ten minutes," he whispered. Looking down at it, you could hear faint gunshots echoing, shouts coming through. "Get him home,"

"Simon?" You whispered, feeling almost as fragile as the being inside of you was. You could hear a grunt, the whooshing of helicopter blades nearly overpowering everything. "Simon?" You said, louder this time.

When his voice came through, you felt you could almost cry. "Yes, lovie?" He whispered, a gunshot coming from far too close to be anything but his own. "I'm here," he added.

You nearly sobbed into the radio, pulling the radio closer to yourself. "Oh god, Simon, please," you whispered. "Please come home, make it here," he gave a sharp laugh.

"Thought you didn't want to talk to me until I apologized," he said, grunting as he did something. You had no idea what, but you just knew his voice was here. "I'm in a bit of a pickle," he said, growing quiet for a few minutes. Neither of you spoke, and you could feel your heart hammering.

Swallowing thickly, you leaned closer to the radio. "'m sorry," you whispered into it. "I'm so, so sorry," you could feel gasping hiccups coming from your body. He hushed into the radio, giving you little comments here and there to calm you.

You could nearly see his head shake. "You shouldn't be apologizing," shouts came from around him. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered. The radio cut out, static screeching through the speaker. You stared down at the radio, blinking tears from your eyes.

"No," you whispered, trying to get the radio to cut back in. "No!" You shouted, dropping to your knees and sobbing. "Please," you whispered, sobs bursting through you chest. You could barely hear the door open, barely felt arms circling around you as you sobbed.

Shushes and hums came from Price as he rocked the two of you, holding you close to him.

"Please tell me he's not dead," you whispered into his chest and Price just shushed you. "I was thirteen hours late, Price," you sobbed.

Next

Taglist:

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar @josieguts

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter 2.5

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

500 words

This one is just a filler chapter. You don't have to read it for the rest of the story, but it may come up again (this'll just give context to something coming up later in the story)

Series Masterlist

"You look like shit," said Charles as he walked over to Y/N. She looked up at him and glared, although he couldn't see it through her sunglasses.

"You don't and I hate you for it," she threw back.

Charles sat on the chair beside her. "That's because most of us stopped drinking when we felt tipsy. Because we're, you know, grown-up, sensible Formula One drivers," he explained.

"Ass," she muttered under her breath. "Can we go and get food?"

Charles stood up and helped Y/N to her feet. They left the hotel and wandered around the streets of Miami until they found a quaint little cafe.

With seats out front and a bookshelf in the back. It wasn't that busy, and the pastries displayed in the window looked lovely. The seating area in front of the cafe was surrounded with bright and colourful flowers. The seats themselves were black and metal, covered in cushions that looked designed by Cath Kidston. Umbrellas covered them, keeping the seats in the shade.

Y/N sat down while Charles went inside and got them their coffees. He came back out and sat beside opposite Y/N. She still hadn't taken off the sunglasses. "Have you seen the footage from last night yet?" He asked.

A waitress came over with a tray full of coffee and pastries. She set them down, tucked the tray under her arm and walked away.

Picking up the coffee, Y/N took a long sip. "Not yet," she said. "I don't think I'm brave enough to look at it."

Charles let out something close to a giggle. Not quite a laugh but still more than a giggle. "You should be looking forward to it. It was good fun," he said, picking up his pastry.

"I need to tell you something," she said suddenly and put down her coffee. This was serious. Charles still had a hold of his pastry, but he wasn't eating it, instead waiting for Y/N to say something. She took in a breath and began. "Last night, after you all left, Max stayed behind."

Charles' eyes went wide. "You didn't..."

"No! No, Charles, no. Oh my god, no. At least, I don't think so. He was still dressed and I was under the covers, so I think we're in the clear," she explained and went back to drinking her coffee.

"So Max took care of you when you were drunk. What's the problem with that?"

Y/N's empty coffee cup hit the little dish it usually sat in. "The problem is that I... liked waking up beside him," she said, nibbling on her pastry. Her head was far too sore for this.

"You have a crush on Max?"

She shook her head. "Crush is such a childish word. Let's just say I have a thing for him and I wouldn't mind if he had a thing for me."

They finished up in the coffee shop and left, wandering around the streets of Miami. They didn't go back to the hotel room right away. Y/N went into a shop, one specifically for tourists, and bought a fridge magnet. To commemorate the trip, she thought, justifying her purchase.

Like she needed any more memories from this trip.

(The middle picture is the design I picture on the seat covers)

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you accidentally stumble upon something far bigger than the fluff and filler news stories you’ve always covered for WGN News Chicago, you reach out to the Department of Homeland Security and come in contact with Dinah Madani–but that only seals your fate as a target for the Patriot Militia and their wealthy political backers. Determined to root out the culprits deep within the government, Madani tasks an unlikely person to keep you safe while she builds her case. But when the person she expects you to go on the run with is Frank Castle–the Punisher himself–you feel anything but safe.

Warnings: 18+; series contains violence, mentions of mass shootings, angst and comfort, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Word Count: 5k

a/n: Sharing the first chapter of this fic! There's a bit of exposition at the beginning, just a heads up, but it's all important information. I'm really excited about this series and feedback is certainly appreciated!! Chapter list can be found here.

Tag List: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear (tagging everyone who initially asked, please let me know if you want to be removed)

Today had started off as almost any normal day at WGN Chicago for you. You'd been at your desk working on piecing together a news segment detailing the upcoming construction in the city this morning, rushing to meet a deadline for Gloria. It was a terribly boring piece, one that had been tossed around the station until it had eventually landed on your desk. Having stared at that filler piece more times than you’d have liked, you had found yourself already on your second cup of coffee for the morning, a headache pounding in your head that you hoped to relieve with the extra caffeine. 

But while you had been at your desk working, you'd received a call from a number you hadn't recognized on your phone. Maybe it was foolish that you'd answered that call and talked to whoever it was on the other end of the line, but it wasn't entirely unusual considering your line of work. You often had sources calling you with information about something. But you'd thought that their very enthusiastic invite to a Patriot Militia rally in a small town just outside of the city was incredibly strange. Your curiosity had admittedly been piqued as you jotted down the address, wondering why a group dangerously close to being deemed domestic terrorists had actively sought out attention from WGN News–and from you in particular considering you weren't remotely a big name reporter at the station. After you'd gotten off the phone with whoever it was that had called, you'd made a few calls to verify the rally was legitimate before bringing it to Gloria’s attention. 

Of course, like any good boss when it came to covering potentially dangerous stories, she'd instantly rejected the idea. She'd told you it wasn't safe and it smelled like danger– especially because it was being held on private property and because there would definitely be guns present. It was, after all, the Patriot Militia. You had practically begged her to let you head out there this afternoon with just Andrew to film so you could cover whatever it was that was happening with this rally. You figured if someone had gone through the trouble to invite you then there had to be a story there, and you were desperate to make your way out of the filler and fluff pieces. Eventually Gloria had caved and given you permission, but only with the promise that you'd leave if things seemed like they were getting out of hand.

Knowing what you now knew, you wished you wouldn’t have gone at all. You wished you hadn't gotten involved.

Everyone at the rally had been surprisingly friendly to you and Andrew, though. Nothing had seemed remotely suspicious or out of the ordinary, and you were shocked to find that you hadn't felt threatened in the slightest despite the fact that everyone was heavily armed. Even more unexpected than that, considering your presence had apparently been a surprise, even if a welcome one, was that everyone you had interviewed had been willing to make statements to the press for the piece you were putting together. 

But what you hadn't expected when Andrew was packing up his camera equipment was that you’d overhear a conversation behind one of the tents as you'd finished getting a last minute statement. 

You had almost immediately recognized the voice of Adam Johnson, a Republican running in the upcoming senate elections. Curious, you'd paused and leant up against the tent, pretending to be focused on your notes as you turned the audio recorder in your pocket back on. When you realized exactly what he was discussing with a few other men in hushed voices, your eyes had gone wide. 

You worked in the media yourself, even if you weren't much of an investigative reporter at the station quite yet, so of course you’d heard all about the mass shooting at a mall in Schaumburg only days ago. Fifteen injured and three dead. But it wasn’t the police that had arrived on the scene and gotten the situation under control, it had been a civilian with a concealed carry that had stepped up and taken charge. He’d shot the suspect on sight and killed him. It had been all over the news after the fact, and the civilian who'd stepped up and killed the shooter had been touted as a local hero. 

But from what you had gathered while you’d stood there silently eavesdropping on the hushed conversation, you’d learned the shooting hadn't been perpetrated by an ordinary young man like the news had been reporting. He'd been a member of the Patriot Militia, one who'd willingly played martyr for the cause. The whole thing had been orchestrated as a way to sway public opinion on guns. And as you continued to eavesdrop, you'd begun to learn what happened in Schaumburg hadn’t been the first time they had done this. The shooting that you’d seen in the news only a month ago out near Columbus, Ohio had been brought up among the group, and they’d also name-dropped a Glen Allen, Virginia, though that name hadn’t rung any bells in your mind for any recent incidents.

From what you’d gathered, it sounded like not only was the Patriot Militia behind these mass shootings where armed civilians had taken out the shooter–who also happened to be a Patriot Militia member–but these attacks had begun to sound far more like terrorist attacks, and it seemed like they were being quietly led by prominent political figures who were proudly anti-gun control across the country. 

Clearly you had accidentally stumbled on something you weren’t meant to hear at that rally, and it had made you wonder if the stranger who’d called and invited you out to it that morning had hoped you’d uncover this. Especially since you had been the only member of the press present at the private event.

Your heart had been furiously hammering in your chest when you’d slipped your phone out of your pocket, readying it for a quick, inconspicuous photo. Ducking your head, you’d walked past that tent and snapped a single, quick picture of the group of men you’d been recording, knowing that whatever you'd overheard was proof the Patriot Militia was in fact a domestic terrorist group. News that you needed to take far above WGN and straight to the proper authorities.  

You’d thought you’d been in the clear when you and Andrew had left the rally without a single problem, too. You were driving a little faster than usual, trying to rush straight back to the station, your eyes repeatedly flickering to the rearview mirror as you drove. Though no one had followed you from the rally.

Back at the station, you’d immediately sought out Gloria in her office and relayed everything you’d overheard. The two of you had huddled over her desk as you replayed the recording you’d taken, Gloria’s face only looking more and more grim as she listened. Afterwards, you’d pulled up the photo on your phone and–despite the attempt to hide their identities with hats and sunglasses–the pair of you had quickly recognized the politicians Adam Johnson, Eric Bane, and Daniel Carpenter who were speaking to Elijah Wolf–the man who ran the Patriot Militia. 

Gloria had immediately retrieved the number for the Department of Homeland Security, which she had scribbled on a piece of paper and slid across her desk to you with a trembling hand. She’d urged you to call them immediately and you had. 

That was how you’d been put into contact with an Agent Dinah Madani who seemed quick to act the moment you’d spoken to her and explained what you had uncovered. She’d stayed on the line with you while you uploaded the audio file and the cell phone photo, sending them to the secure email address she’d given you. And then she’d continued to stay on the line with you while she listened to the recording, a nervous churning beginning in your stomach as she did. Afterwards she told you to make a copy of both pieces of evidence and to hold onto it, sit tight, and keep your head down. Before ending the call, she had given you her personal cell phone number in the event anything else came up or in case something more happened.

And, unfortunately, something did.

Sitting at your kitchen table, you’d been quietly eating your reheated leftovers for dinner. Chewing a bite of the pasta, your eyes were meticulously scanning over the news articles from the day on your phone. Nothing in the media had mentioned a single thing about the Patriot Militia rally or a shooting in Glen Allen, Virgina, though. As your eyes continued to skim over the day’s news, your hand absently twirling pasta noodles around your fork, you heard a noise coming from the side of your house. 

Your hand froze mid-twirl of the fettuccine noodles, your breath entirely catching in your throat as your eyes widened. Distinctly you could make out the hushed tone of voices just outside. Carefully setting the fork back into your bowl, you rose to your feet and slipped your phone back into your pocket, making your way towards the window above your kitchen sink. Nervously you reached a hand out and peeked through the blinds. Two men dressed in all black, both carrying guns in their hands, were sneaking around by your garbage bins along the side of your house. 

Fear struck you like ice in your veins and you quickly lurched backwards, releasing the blinds. Your heart began to beat just as rapidly as it had done earlier this afternoon when you’d snapped that photo and tried to disappear from the rally without raising suspicion. 

The men outside had to be related to the Patriot Militia. But why? If they’d known what you’d discovered today–what you’d recorded–why wouldn’t they have done something before you could leave that rally? Why would they show up at your house later at night and have given you all that time to alert the federal authorities about them?

In a panic, you flew from the kitchen as quietly as you could, racing down the hallway and towards your bedroom. Keeping the lights off, you pulled open your closet door before kneeling down and digging around in the corner of it. Eventually your hands landed on the duffle bag you occasionally used as a carry on when you traveled. Barely paying attention to what you grabbed, you began tossing handfuls of clothing into the bag, stuffing a few bras and pairs of underwear from your dresser inside before you snatched your wallet from your purse on the bed. Cautiously tip-toeing back to your dresser, you grabbed the flash drive you had transferred the photo and audio recording to the moment you'd gotten home from off of it, adding that to the few things you’d packed. 

The moment you’d finished zipping up your bag, you heard the faint squeak of your back door opening and you stopped, your body becoming completely still. Whoever those men were, they were in your house now. And that had the hairs on your arms raising.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stay calm. Leaving out your front or back door was no longer an option now that they were in your house–you’d have to pass them to reach one of those exits and that was not something you wanted to do. Eyes darting to your bedroom window above your dresser, you knew you had no other choice. 

You reached your hands out, pushing the curtains back as silently as possible. Biting down on your tongue, you unlocked the window latches next before slowly beginning to push the window up. You could make out more hushed voices coming from your living room and you swore you'd stopped breathing while you worked. Continuing to push the window up, you winced when it made a soft noise as it slid upwards, breaking the silence in your bedroom. Thankfully neither of the men came running down the hall to your room at the faint noise, though.

Leaning over your dresser, you peered outside and checked that no one was lingering out front before tossing your bag outside. You heard it land with a soft thud on the grass. Climbing carefully up onto your dresser beneath the window, you thanked whatever higher power existed that the windows in your house were wide enough for you to comfortably climb through right now. 

Awkwardly you maneuvered around on top of the dresser, turning and placing your legs out of the window one at a time. Slowly you began to slide your body through it. It wasn’t until you were almost halfway out of the window that you heard the shout, your bedroom lights turning on and taking you by surprise. Looking over your shoulder, you caught sight of one of the men dressed in all black standing there, a black ski mask covering his face and the gun still in his hand. Your stomach felt like it almost flew up out of your mouth at the burst of fear and adrenaline that immediately shot through you.

“She’s climbing out of the window!” the man shouted. “Go out the front!”

Terrified, you’d pushed yourself the rest of the way through, tumbling down the short drop and ungracefully landing on the ground. You scrambled to your feet as fast as you could, grabbing your duffle bag before glancing over your shoulder to be met with the sight of a gun pointed right at you. With a shriek, you darted to the side and took off at a run down the sidewalk, your legs protesting the movement as your lungs began to burn. 

You kept on running, adrenaline pushing you forward as you neared the corner of the street. Chancing a look behind you, you spotted both men standing in your driveway staring straight at you. Though neither of them were chasing after you. 

You didn’t give yourself time to wonder why as you continued running, trying to make your way back towards the downtown of the suburb you lived in where you hoped you’d be safe among the crowds of people. The moment you were, you’d be calling Agent Madani and praying she had some way to keep you safe.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Leaning an elbow along the bar counter, Frank drank down the cold beer in his hand. His eyes lingered on the country band currently on the stage in the roadhouse, listening to the music they were playing with a faint smile pulling up one corner of his lips. It was the reason he’d meandered his way over here from the motel next door. He’d heard the music on his walk over to the room he’d paid for, having been ready to settle in for the night after the long day of driving he'd been doing. He was exhausted and his body ached from sitting in the van for hours. Inevitably the music pouring out of Lola's Roadhouse next door had drawn him like a moth to a flame before he'd even managed to unlock the door to his room.

The pretty brunette behind the bar counter he'd spotted when he stepped inside was just an added bonus, too. Frank had surprisingly found he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from her every time he ordered a new beer, though he hadn’t made any attempt to flirt. It was something he’d become aware of lately ever since he’d left New York. He’d been noticing women more–not that he never had before, but ever since–

He drew the beer bottle back up to his lips, taking a long pull. He didn’t want to think about that.

“How’s about I get a pint and one for you, too?”

Frank swallowed down his beer, his eyes still focused straight ahead as he heard yet another inebriated patron hitting on the woman. That was the sixth one he’d heard this evening since he’d stopped in here.

“Thanks man, I’ll grab it later,” the bartender told him.

“Oh come on,” the man behind Frank said, his voice grating on his nerves already, “why not grab it now?”

“I don’t drink when I’m working,” she replied in a clipped tone. 

“Well if I’m giving you my eight dollars, I’d at least like you to have a drink with me,” the man continued.

Frank’s hand gripped tighter around the neck of his beer bottle, his jaw clenching as he tried to focus on the music playing. He was not going to get involved. He was laying low and he’d be leaving in the morning. This didn’t concern him.

“And why’s that?” she huffed out.

“I think you’re a good lookin’ woman,” the man replied, trying to sound all charm. “And I want to see how far down those tattoos go.”

Frank’s eyes slowly closed, his teeth grinding against each other. Couldn’t this man take a ‘no’ the first time around? He hated assholes like these.

“Plenty of other women here with tattoos,” she answered, setting what sounded like a glass on the counter behind him.

“Oh come on,” the man pressed. 

To Frank’s ears, it sounded like the man had reached across the bar counter when he'd spoken, and when Frank’s head shifted just a bit over his shoulder, he noticed the man indeed had a grip on the brunette’s wrist. Anger slowly began to smolder in Frank’s gut at the sight as the woman tried to pull her arm out of his grip.

“At least give me your name or a number,” the man pushed.

Trying to keep his temper under control, Frank turned and rested his back against the bar counter, knocking a fist against it lightly three times. The gesture caught the man’s attention and Frank’s intrusion quickly cut off whatever the woman had been starting to say, but his focus was on the asshole still grabbing her wrist.

“Hey, the lady is tryin’ to work,” Frank pointed out, trying to keep his tone casual and calm despite the anger he felt begging for a release. “You expect her to keep pourin’ drinks while your holding her arm like that? Let her go.”

The man made a show of releasing her wrist, the brunette shooting Frank a once-over before she walked past him behind the bar to continue pouring beers. Frank muttered an offhand ‘thank you’ to the asshole, trying hard not to cause a problem as he focused back on the band–because he was supposed to be staying out of trouble. 

But he could feel the asshole’s eyes still on him.

“What a skank.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed just a bit, his head shifting back towards the man a fraction. “That’s real classy, man,” he shot back.

The inebriated man beside him rose from his bar stool, his eyes still on Frank. “You say something to me?” he asked, trying to sound intimidating as he closed the space between them.

“Yeah,” Frank answered simply, turning further towards him.

The man reached out, placing two fingers against Frank’s chest before he roughly pushed them against him. Frank's eyes lowered to the man's hand, staring at it as the guy used those same two fingers to push against his chest a second time. 

"You just made my night, dumbass," the man said, his two fingers pushing against Frank's chest for a third time.

Eyes rising back up towards the man's face, Frank's right hand casually swung up and grabbed the man's fingers in his grip. With a sharp twist he heard the sound of finger bones snapping over the sound of the band playing. Instantly the man cried out, doubling over in pain as Frank tossed the man's hand back at him.

"You sure 'bout that?" Frank asked.

Clutching his injured left hand to his chest, the man straightened and reached out, picking up a beer bottle from the bar counter beside him. In a single, swift movement he'd smashed it against the counter, beer and glass splattering everywhere. 

"Come on now," Frank warned him. "Don't do that."

The drunk took one step forward, ready to lunge at Frank with the smashed bottle raised in his hand, but the roadhouse bouncer came up behind him before he could get any further. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting the broken bottle from his grip before he shoved the man over the bar counter, keeping his good arm trapped behind his back. With the man incapacitated, the bouncer focused on Frank as he spoke.

"You've got two options," he told Frank. "Either you leave, or I kick your ass out with this asshole."

"Hey, Ringo," the brunette behind the bar cut in, her voice briefly catching Frank's attention. "He's good. He was just helping me out."

The bouncer known as Ringo eyed her for a moment longer before Frank saw him give the woman a quick nod. He pulled the man off of the counter, leading him towards the exit without another glance at Frank. Though Frank’s eyes watched as they went, following to make sure the man didn't cause any more trouble as he clutched his injured hand to his chest.

"I deal with assholes like that every damn night," the bartender said.

Frank’s focus shifted from Ringo and the asshole he was dragging outside to the woman eyeing him up on the other side of the counter. Gradually Frank turned fully towards her, resting both of his hands on the bar and contemplating another beer after all of that or whether he should just head back to his motel and call it a night. 

"You shouldn't have to," he told her. "'S'not right."

Her eyes lingered on him, a slow smile sliding across her lips. Making a quick decision, he'd been about to ask if he could trouble her for another drink, maybe this time while getting her name, but the phone in his jacket pocket began to vibrate. Brows curiously drawing together, he glanced down towards the noise before reaching a hand inside of his jacket, pulling it out. 

Who the hell would've been calling him on this phone? He'd picked it up shortly after he'd left New York. To his knowledge, only two people had the number.

Looking down at the series of numbers on the screen, confusion further spread across his features. It was Agent Madani's number. But why the hell would she be calling him? She'd made it quite clear that if he crossed her path again, she'd be arresting him. 

Frank glanced up, about to tell the bartender he needed to take the call, but she'd already wandered off to help another patron. With a sigh he slid his finger across the screen before holding it up to his ear.

"Yeah?" he asked into it.

"Castle, it's Agent Madani," the woman's voice immediately came over the line. 

"Figured as much," Frank replied, his focus on the damp bar counter before him. "Wasn't expecting a call from you. Am I already in trouble, Madani?" 

"No," she answered him quickly. "I actually need a favor. A…big one."

Frank's eyes narrowed curiously as he heard the tension in her voice. What could a federal Homeland Security agent need from him? 

"And what's that?" he asked carefully.

Madani loosed a deep sigh that was loud enough for Frank to catch over the music still playing in the roadhouse. Her apprehension was only increasing his curiosity.

"I need you to protect someone," she said after a moment. "They've…accidentally stumbled on something and now they're in danger."

"You got federal agents for that, Madani," Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, well," she continued slowly, "I don't exactly know who I can trust with this here."

Frank pushed away from the bar counter, maneuvering his way through the crowd of people dancing and enjoying the band. A few of them shot him strange looks as he moved between them but he ignored it. The closer to the roadhouse exit he got, the better he could hear Madani over all the noise. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked. "And what's that got to do with me?"

"There's a woman who came to me earlier today," Madani explained. "She's a reporter for a news station out in Chicago and she accidentally stumbled on something huge. As in national security huge. It's something that involves high profile politicians–we’re talking wealthy, big names here. It's–it's going to be a massive scandal once this surfaces, but I need to keep her alive. I'm trying to assemble a case but I need her witness testimony with the evidence she brought me."

"Yeah? What's that gotta do with me?" he asked her again.

“She was at a Patriot Militia rally today,” Madani continued. “I don’t have to tell you who they are, do I?”

Frank leant up against the wall near the exit, his eyes on the pretty bartender pouring a beer. “Bunch of crazy activists, yeah?” he asked.

“Putting it simply, yes. This reporter recorded some things. Snapped a photo of these high profile people conversing together. Yet no one paid her any mind when she left that rally–because no one knew she’d done that. Or I think we both know she wouldn’t have been able to just hop into her car and leave.” There was a pause before she continued. “But she called me a few minutes ago. Couple men with guns showed up at her house. Now that has me thinking someone in Homeland caught wind of this and is trying to clean up the mess before anything gets out.”

Frank ran a hand over his chin, the stubble of his beard rasping lightly against his calloused fingers. “So you can’t trust your men but you think you can trust me?”

“I’m hoping I can,” Madani corrected. “I need you, Castle. If anyone is trained enough to keep this woman alive, it’s you.”

“I ain’t no babysitter, Madani,” Frank told her, shaking his head. “That’s not what I do.”

“I can make it worth your while,” she replied quickly. “I’ve talked to my superior Hernandez–the only one I trust on this right now–and he’s said if you help us with this, we’ll clear Frank Castle’s name.”

“Clear my name?” he asked curiously, his hand halting its movement on his chin.

“You won’t have to live as Peter Castiglione,” Madani told him. “You can be Frank Castle. If you help us. But I need her alive , Frank.”

Frank’s attention drew back towards the band that was playing on the stage, his mind racing. The government would clear him? Of all the charges for what he’d done in New York? And all he had to do was keep one woman alive to get that?

“What do you say, Castle?” she asked. “Can I count on you?”

His hand slowly lowering to his side, Frank pushed off of the wall, turning and making his way towards the exit. He pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly night air.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he told her.

“Great,” Madani replied, her tone sounding vastly relieved. “Where are you?”

“Just outside of Detroit,” he answered, making his way back to the motel.

“She’s a bit north of Chicago so that’s perfect,” Madani said, her fingers flying across what sounded like a keyboard rapidly. “I’ll have her meet you halfway–Ruby’s Diner off of I-94. Tomorrow morning at seven sharp. Can you be there?”

“Yeah,” he replied, digging around for the key to his room in his pocket, “I can be there. But how the hell do I know who I’m lookin’ for, Madani?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed as Madani said a name over the line, his hand pausing in his search for the key in his pocket.

“She’s a small time reporter for WGN News out there. Google her,” Madani ordered. “There’s a picture of her on their site. That’s the woman I need alive, Frank. I just need you to hop from town to town and keep her safe. That's it. And I’ll be texting you coordinates for a drop site in a bit. I’ll have someone I trust leave money to help keep you both taken care of on the road while I build this case.”

Frank reached the door to his room, shouldering his phone. He slid the key into the lock, twisting it before opening the door and stepping inside. He turned on the light, closing the door behind himself before locking it. 

“Any questions?” she asked him.

“Yeah, just one,” Frank asked, tossing the room key onto a nearby table. “You say you need this woman alive because there’s people with guns tryin’ to kill her, right?”

“Yes,” Madani answered.

“So does that mean I’ve got the U.S. government’s express permission to keep her alive and safe by any means necessary?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

There was a long pause over the line at his question. Frank could hear the tapping of something like a pen coming from Madani before he heard her let out a rough breath. The corner of Frank’s lips twitched upwards at the sound.

“Yes, Castle,” she replied. “But no civilian casualties or our deal is over. And if the reporter dies, the deal is over. If you lose her, the deal is over. If–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Madani,” Frank cut her off. “Text me the drop site details and I’ll find this woman in the morning. I’ll keep her alive for you, Madani. But I expect you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“I will,” she assured him.

Frank hung up, quickly pulling up the search browser on his phone afterwards. He made his way over to one of the beds in the room, settling down onto the end of the stiff mattress as he typed in the news station's name along with yours. Sure enough, a photo of a smiling woman appeared– your face–and for a moment Frank just sat there studying it. 

“So you’re the one who stepped in some shit,” he muttered to the picture. “You definitely look like you’d cause some trouble, that’s for sure.”

He stared at the photo for another moment longer, telling himself it was just because he was trying to memorize your face and not because he liked your smile. Eventually he closed out of the search and rose back to his feet, switching the screen of his phone off. If he needed to be a few hours from here by seven in the morning, he needed to go to sleep now. If he was lucky he'd get four hours of rest before he was back on the road again. 

[37sommz]

❁ : come le viole . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: smut. ✼. wc: 3.1k.

michaela's six years in italy pay off in her professional life. one area she didn't expect them to pay off is in her romantic life. in jenson's defense, anything michaela does gets him going.

✼. warnings: 18+ mdni, smut smut smut, jenson has a michaela speaking italian kink, unprotected sex, pretty tame but sweet regardless.

✼. notes: another filler chapter lol. don't think too hard about the date, it's completely arbitrary bc this is just a filler. i promise i have more actual plot, abu dhabi 2021 is next :)

000.⠀⠀OCTOBER 16, 2021    ›    Cagliari, Italy

Michaela leaned against the balcony railing, the Sardinian sun casting a warm glow over her taut, athletic frame. She squinted at the horizon, the sea a serene canvas of blues and greens that stretched to infinity. The salty breeze whispered through her hair, a gentle reminder of the world outside the sheltered bubble of the luxurious hotel room.

Her thoughts drifted to the race that had just concluded. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as she heard the distant roar of the crowd. The Extreme E circuit was a playground for champions, a place where Jenson could still indulge in his love for speed without the relentless pressure of Formula 1. The same pressure she faced every time she strapped into her own McLaren.

The door clicked open, and she spun around, her heart racing. Jenson strutted in, a boyish grin on his face and a sheen of adrenaline glistening on his skin. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and the sight of him made her pulse quicken.

"You did well, JB," she said, using his nickname with a playful smirk.

Jenson closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Thanks, darling," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wish you could've seen it in person. The track was insane."

Michaela smiled, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pulled her in closer. "I had a pretty good view from here," she said, gesturing to the TV behind her. "But I'll take your word for it. You looked like you were in your element."

Jenson chuckled, his gaze lingering on the oversized vintage Suzuka circuit shirt adorning her frame. "You know I can't resist a good race." His hands began to roam, gently caressing her hips, his thumbs brushing the waistband of her shorts as they dipped underneath the hem of her shirt. "But I missed you."

Michaela felt a flutter in her stomach as she met his eyes. "Missed me, or missed being in bed with me?" she teased, her voice low and eyes narrowed.

"Both, actually," Jenson confessed, his grin turning into a seductive smirk. "But right now, I'm thinking about the latter."

Michaela rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Have you eaten? We should order room service before you pass out from exhaustion."

"Mmm, I could go for a pasta," Jenson said, his voice a low purr as his hands continued to roam. "But I'd much rather have dessert first."

Michaela playfully slapped his hand away, laughing. "Let's at least order something to eat first. I waited for you to comeback before I ordered." She stepped back and picked up the phone, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she dialed the front desk. "Buonasera," she greeted in flawless Italian, the language rolling off her tongue like a native. "Possiamo avere il servizio in camera, per favore?"

Jenson rose from his spot on the bed, watching her with a smoldering look in his eyes. "God, you're so sexy when you speak Italian," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. He stalked over to her, his breath warm against her neck as he nibbled gently on her earlobe. His hands slid around her waist again.

Michaela giggled, trying to keep her focus on the order. "Jenson, behave," she chided, though her voice lacked conviction. The feeling of his body pressed against hers was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Sì, questo è tutto. Addebitare alla camera, per favore. Grazie," she finished, hanging up the phone and turning to face him with a smirk. "Room service is on its way."

Jenson's gaze was unyielding, his eyes dark with want. "I don't care about room service," he murmured, his hands moving from her waist to cup her face. His thumbs traced her cheekbones, his eyes searching hers for any sign of protest. "Not when you're speaking Italian like that."

"I was just ordering food, Jense," she said with a playful laugh, though the heat in her voice betrayed her own growing arousal. She stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest.

"But when you talk like that," Jenson whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "it's like you're speaking directly to my soul." His eyes searched hers, hunger plain in his gaze. "It's so intimate."

Michaela's laughter faded, replaced by a soft sigh as she leaned into his touch. "You're such a romantic," she said, her voice teasing. But she didn't move away.

Jenson leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His tongue danced with hers, a silent promise of the passion that awaited them. She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she responded with an eagerness that surprised even herself.

Michaela pulled away, breathless. "Room service will be here any minute," she murmured, though the protest was half-hearted at best.

"They can wait," Jenson said, his voice gruff with need. He scooped her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. She gasped as he carried her to the bed, laying her down with a tenderness that betrayed his urgency.

Their kisses grew more feverish, their bodies tangling together as if trying to become one. Jenson's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and line with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her, and she arched into him, her own hands running through the blonde hair she had grown so fond of.

Michaela's racing heart hammered against her ribcage as Jenson's hand slipped under her shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against her bare skin. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering as he stared down at her. "Keep speaking Italian to me," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

Michaela's breath was hot against his skin as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, her words a mix of English and Italian that only served to heighten his desire for her. He felt his own passion mirrored in her touch, her hands roaming over his chest and down to his waistband, eager to feel all of him.

With a groan, Jenson lifted himself off her, standing to remove the last of his clothes. He watched her eyes follow the trail of his muscles, the desire in them making him feel like the luckiest man alive. He joined her on the bed again, their bodies a tangle of limbs and passion. Michaela reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length. He sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. He felt the heat building, the tension in his body growing taut with every jerk of her wrist.

Her other hand found his chest, her nails digging in slightly as she guided him closer. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of him teasing her entrance as an impatient hand brushed her panties to the side. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the heady mix of love and lust threatening to overwhelm them both.

Michaela looked up at him, her eyes filled with a raw, unbridled need. "Jenson," she murmured, her voice a soft plea. He took one last moment to savor the sight of her before he pushed inside her, filling her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, almost tender, as if they were both trying to savor every second. But as the passion grew, so did their desperation. Their movements grew more urgent, more frenzied, each thrust and moan echoing around the room like a symphony of desire.

Jenson watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought for control. He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, their tongues tangling together as their bodies found a rhythm that spoke of love and need. The feel of her, tight and wet around him, was intoxicating, and he could feel his climax approaching.

Michaela's nails dug into his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Her breathy moans grew louder, and he knew she was ready for more. He picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more urgent as he felt her muscles begin to clench around him.

"So pretty," she hummed as she pulled his face away from the crook of her neck. Her thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble prickle against her skin. "Così, così carino." She repeated in Italian, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sensation of his mouth on hers.

Michaela felt the warmth spread through her core as Jenson's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. The sensation was electric, and she arched her back, pushing herself closer to him.

"Talk to me, honey," she whispered seductively against his mouth, her voice thick with need. "Tell me how good it feels."

"God, it feels amazing," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained with effort. "You're so wet for me, so tight." His words were punctuated with each thrust, his voice growing hoarser with every passing moment.

Michaela's eyes fluttered closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she absorbed his words. She felt his muscles tensing beneath her, the veins in his arms standing out as he pushed himself deeper into her. "Don't hold back," she encouraged, her own voice breathless. "Take me, I'm all yours, baby."

"Yeah?" He whispered back, blue eyes burning into hers, his thumb now tracing her bottom lip.

She leaned into his touch, taking the finger into her mouth eagerly. Her brown eyes never left his blue eyes as she sucked gently, the sight making him growl with need.

Jenson couldn't resist anymore, he leaned down and kissed her again, deep and passionate. Their bodies moved in sync, the sound of skin on skin music to their ears. His hands roamed over her, feeling the heat of her body, memorizing every inch of her. He felt her arching into him, her legs tightening around his waist, her breathing growing more erratic.

One hand reached for the top of her headboard as the other reached down to grasp at her thigh, pulling it up to hook over his hip and spreading her wide open to him. The new angle sent Michaela's eyes rolling back as he pushed deep inside her, a moan escaping her mouth as she felt herself stretch around him.

"Good girl," Jenson praised, his voice a low growl. The new angle allowed him to hit her g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She couldn't help but whimper, her nails now scratching down his sides as the tension grew. "You take me so well. All the way in just like that."

Michaela's breath came in short gasps as she felt the beginnings of an intense orgasm building inside her. "Jense," she moaned, her eyes pleading for release. He knew she was close, and he wasn't far behind. His own orgasm was approaching like a freight train.

Jenson's grip tightened on her thigh as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into hers. The headboard thumped against the wall in a steady rhythm, muffled by the thick walls. He could feel her body tightening around him, and it was all he could do to hold on.

Michaela's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated with desire. She met Jenson's gaze, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she whispered, "Dai, amore, fottimi più forte," urging him on in Italian.

A feral growl rumbled in his throat as he complied, his hips driving into hers with a force that sent the bed rocking against the floor. The headboard thumped a wild beat that matched the pounding of their hearts, the only music in the room. The sound of their passion filled the air, a symphony of moans and gasps that grew louder with every stroke.

Michaela's eyes never left Jenson's as she felt the climax building within her, his every movement sending her closer to the edge. She could see the same need reflected in his gaze, his eyes dark with desire and determination to bring her to the brink.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, feeling the tension coil tighter within him.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, the pleasure reaching a crescendo as she felt Jenson's cock hit her in just the right spot. She knew she was close, so close she could almost taste it. "Need to come, Jenson," she begged, her voice a needy whine.

Jenson chuckled dryly, feeling her slip away deeper into the pleasure. "Say it nicely, love," he urged, his voice gruff with need. "Want to hear your pretty little mouth say it in Italian."

Michaela bit her lip, the challenge sparking something within her as she nodded. She met his eyes, her own smoldering with desire. "Per favore, lasciami venire, amore," she whispered, her voice thick with an accent that sent shivers down his spine.

Jenson's eyes flashed with pleasure, the Italian rolling off her tongue like a sweet, sweet promise. He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, his own orgasm close behind hers. "So fucking perfect, baby. You're so beautiful," he groaned, the words leaving his mouth almost involuntarily. He wanted to claim her, to show her how much she meant to him in every way possible.

"Fuck, baby, where do you want me?" he gritted out, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper. She felt him swell inside her, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Anywhere, everywhere," she panted, her back arching off the bed. "Just don't stop, please." She practically begged, almost incoherent in the wave of her pleasure.

Jenson's eyes blazed with intensity, his thrusts becoming more powerful, his strokes more deliberate. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her breath hitching with every push. The sound of their bodies slapping together grew more frantic, the sweet sound of their passion heightening.

"Mouse," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "I love how wet you are for me." His hand traveled down to her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud as he watched her face contort with pleasure. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

Michaela's breath hitched, her eyes locked on his as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Yes, Jense, please."

He took that as his cue, his thumb moving faster against her clit, his strokes deep and demanding. The tension built until it was almost unbearable, until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back. "Now, love," he urged, feeling her body tighten around him. "Come for me."

Michaela's eyes widened as she felt the orgasm crash over her, waves of pleasure washing away every thought, every worry. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the intensity of her release. Jenson groaned, feeling her tighten around him, his own orgasm following closely behind. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he emptied himself inside her.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Jenson rolled over, taking her with him so she lay sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. They lay there, basking in the afterglow, the scent of their lovemaking mingling with the faint aroma of the sea breeze that filtered through the open balcony doors.

"You're going to have to teach me Italian," Jenson murmured after a moment of contented silence, his voice rumbling through his chest and into her ear. "Everything sounds better when you say it."

Michaela chuckled, her breath still coming in pants. "I'd be happy to," she said, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his chest. Perched on his chest, she felt his heart beating beneath her, the steady rhythm matching the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

They laid there for a few moments, the only sound in the room the rustling of the hotel curtains dancing in the breeze from the open balcony. The sun painted stripes across the floor, casting a warm glow over their entwined bodies.

"I love you, Michaela," Jenson murmured, his hands stroking her back lazily as he felt her body relax into his. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

Michaela lifted her head to look at him, her eyes soft with affection. "I love you too, Jense," she said, her voice a quiet whisper. "More than I ever thought I could love someone." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before rolling off him and standing up, stretching her toned body. The room service cart rattled in the hallway, a discreet knock at the door interrupting their intimate moment.

"I'll get it," Jenson offered as he reached for a robe, his chiseled abs glistening with a sheen of sweat. Jenson tied the robe around his waist, his movements slow and languid. "You go freshen up. I don't think I'll be able to focus on eating if I hear you speak Italian again." He winked, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Michaela giggled and slipped into the bathroom, her cheeks flushed with pleasure and the aftermath of their passion. She glanced in the mirror as she tied her own robe together, her hair a wild mess around her face, and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. As she washed up, she could still feel the echoes of Jenson's touch, the way his hands had roamed her body with such confidence and hunger.

When she emerged, Jenson had set up the room service on the small dining table. The sight of steaming plates of pasta and a bottle of wine brought a smile to her face. The wide, boyish smile that adorned his features drew a chuckle out of her.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," she teased, walking over to him and placing a kiss on his cheek.

Jenson shrugged playfully. "You bring it out in me, sweetheart," he said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Michaela took her seat, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she surveyed the feast he'd arranged. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of the ocean. They ate in contented silence, their eyes meeting frequently over their plates, the heat between them melting away into a calmer affection.

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 2

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I'm like completely overwhelmed that anyone has even read the first chapter of my fic, well alone liked and/or reblogged it! Thank you guys so much!

This chapter is a little bit of filler, just a heads up. But I hope you all like it anyways.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.0k

There were a lot of people surrounding Rooster’s bed, they all introduced themselves but the only thing he could really think about was how scared he was for them to pull this tube out of his throat. The doctor told him that there’s always a chance he might not respond well and they’ll have to place another one. And good god, that was the last thing he wanted. The sedation medications, being unable to talk, having to have his throat suctioned constantly, and listening to the never ending sounds of the machines were his own personal hell. And the prep before this was its own level of horrible. They put a vest on him that shook him violently to loosen any crap that had built up low in his lungs while he was intubated. Then they deep suctioned the shit outta his throat, it was so uncomfortable but Y/N promised it was all to help him and keep him from getting sick again and having to be intubated again.

He looked over at Y/N and prayed that she could say something to make him feel better. All of his friends and Mav were still on the aircraft carrier in God knows where, so Y/N was the only familiar face. He guesses he could’ve called Penny, Mav’s girlfriend, but it’s a Saturday morning, she should be spending time with Amelia and getting ready for another crazy night at the Hard Deck.

“So what’s gonna happen is: I’m gonna sit your bed up really high and place a pad under your chin since a lot of gunk might come up with the tube. That’s completely normal.” Y/N explained calmly, “Brent, the guy on your left, is the respiratory therapist. He’s gonna ask you to cough a few times and on the last cough, he’s gonna pull the tube out.”

Bradley nodded, looking her straight in her beautiful, expressive eyes.

“Your throat’s gonna hurt and feel really dry, you probably won’t be able to talk for a little bit.” She continued, “But I’m gonna stay here and monitor you, listen to your lungs, suction out any more gunk, and maybe we can try swabbing your mouth with water to help with the dryness until you’re cleared to drink. Does that sound okay?”

The young doctor at the bedside scoffed, “Do we really need to have this much dialog? We have other patients to get to, Nurse.”

Y/N’s face hardened, “I am well aware that you all are busy. However, I’m not going to allow anything to happen to Lt. Bradshaw without his full informed consent, so I’m making sure he knows exactly what we’re doing. It’s his right.”

The older doctor smiled at Y/N, “This is why nurses are so important, they fill in the blanks for the patients. As physicians, we can get caught up in the science and the technicality of things but nurses are the people who remind us to remember that we’re taking care of the whole person.”

The young doctor rolled his eyes.

Y/N smiled at the older doctor and shot the young doc a look that said, Bite me, bitch. She then looked at Rooster and asked, “You ready?”

Rooster nodded slowly, he was so scared.

“It’s okay that you’re scared.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “But you see Brent, the one literally doing the damn thing to you? He’s not scared and I’m not scared ”

Brent smiled, “Not one bit. And all of those docs in their fancy white coats, they OK’d me to do this. That means they’re not scared either.”

Rooster felt a rush of calm wash over him, Y/N trusted these people, so he had no reason not to as well.

“Ready man?” Brent asked.

Bradley nodded.

Y/N sat the bed up so that he was sitting tall and placed an absorbent pad under his chin, “Let’s do it!”

“Give me a few coughs, Lieutenant.” Brent instructed.

Rooster coughed uncomfortably, it felt so weird with this thing on his throat.

“One last big cough.” Brent said.

With his next cough the tube was out and Rooster couldn’t help but continue to cough and dry heave. All the doctors’ eyes were glued to the numbers on his monitor, the only one looking at him was Y/N. 

She wiped all the spit and nastiness off of his face carefully and talked to him quietly, “That’s it, let it out. You’re doin’ great.”

A few moments later the older doctor said, “His oxygen sats look great. Let us know if anything changes, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, “Will do. Can I get a standing supplemental oxygen order? Just in case his sats start to decline.”

“Of course, Carl– I mean… Dr. Parks will put those in for you right away.” The old doc looked over at the very displeased younger doctor.

Once the doctors all assessed him and felt okay leaving the room, it was just Rooster and Y/N. He gestured towards his white board, there was no way in hell he could talk yet.

Y/N happily passed it to him and proceeded to start her own assessment, listening to his lungs with her stethoscope.

That young doc is an asshole. Rooster wrote.

Y/N snorted, taking her stethoscope out of her ears and setting it to rest around her neck, “For the sake of professionalism, no comment.” 

Can you call Maverick and tell him I’m okay? 

“Yeah, of course.” She pulled a pen and a slip of paper out of her scrub pocket, “Just write down his full name and number.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Hi Captain Mitchell, this is Y/N and I’m Lieutenant Bradshaw’s nurse today.” You tried your best to sound as not nervous as possible. You always hated sitting at the nurses station and calling family members on the phone, usually because it was to give bad news or tell them to come to the hospital quickly to say goodbye. At least this time it was something positive.

“Oh my god,” The man choked on the other end of the line, “Is– Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. I’m sorry for scaring you.” You fiddled with the long phone cord, “He’s actually doing great. We took him off the ventilator about an hour ago and he’s breathing really well on his own. He’s working with physical therapy now, they have him out of bed and sitting in a chair.”

You could hear the joy in the man’s voice, “That’s incredible! Oh my god! I can’t wait to tell everyone, we’ve all been so worried. Can I speak to him?”

“Not quite yet, he’s not able to talk yet and will be hoarse for a little while.” You explained, twisting from side to side in the swiveling chair,  “But I can see if we can charge up his phone so he can text you and call when he’s able to.” 

“Thank you so much for the update, Y/N.” Capt. Mitchell gushed, “I usually have to call first for updates but this was such a great surprise.”

“Well one of the first things Bradley asked me to do for him after his extubation was call you and let you know that he’s okay.” 

He let out a happy sigh on the other end of the phone, “Did he really? That’s so good to hear. Tell him I’ll be home soon and my first stop will be to see him.”

You nodded, “Will do, Capt. Mitchell. You have a great rest of your day.”

“You as well, I know you’re taking great care of him.” And the call cut off right there.

“Ooooh look at you, big shot.” You couldn’t help but smile seeing Bradley sitting up in a chair and channel surfing on the crappy hospital TV.

Bradley picked up his white board and marker from the table beside him, Did you talk to Mav?

“You mean Capt. Mitchell?” You confirmed and Bradley nodded, “He said he’ll be home soon and his first stop will be to come see you. But hopefully you’ll have busted out of this joint before then.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows and scribbled, You think so?

You shrugged logging into the computer by his bed and starting to organize his 3pm medications, “I mean, I can’t say for sure. I know that you military dudes can’t tell people exactly where you’re going or when you’re coming home on your deployments. But if things keep going as well as they are, it seems like a good possibility you could be transferred to a step-down unit and then hopefully discharged in the next week or so.”

Bradley started writing again, I don’t want to go to another unit. I want to keep you as my nurse.

You giggled, “Well that is incredibly kind of you to say, but the best part of my job is seeing patients get well enough to be transferred to a lower acuity unit and then eventually discharged.”

Bradley pouted and drew a big fat frowny face on the whiteboard.

“You were a lot less sassy with that tube down your throat, Bradshaw.” You teased as you crossed the room with his meds, hanging them on the IV pole and programming the pump.

Pumping me up with poison? He smirked as he wrote.

“Nah, just antibiotics to treat that pesky infection that almost killed you and brought you in here.”

Damn, I was hoping you were gonna say they’re steroids to get me yolked. He flashed a mischievous grin at you.

You scoffed, “I took a pledge when I finished nursing school not to harm my patients and I considered giving them drugs that would shrink their balls and give them breasts doing harm.”

Bradley snorted and let out a hoarse laugh. Though it was very quiet, you could tell it was a great laugh.

“Hey Y/N, I’m taking room 4 back from you.” Carly, the young nurse from the morning, sat in the empty chair next to you at the nurses station.

“Oh great, do you want a full report or are you good with just the updates?” You asked, pulling out your notes from the day.

She clicked her pen, “Updates are just fine.”

“So the biggest news is that he was extubated today.” You grinned.

“Really?!” She gasped, “I’ve been pushing for that but the resident kept saying no.”

“Parks?” You inquired.

She nodded and sighed, “Yeah, have you met him?”

“Unfortunately.” You rolled your eyes, “I think he shares similar feelings about me as I do him.”

“I hope you gave him hell.” She giggled, “I’m still a new grad, so I don’t have enough experience under my belt to push back very much.”

“Well if he gives you any grief on your shift, don’t let it get to you. He’s also a new grad doctor, he’s also still learning.” You assured her then went on to finish your report.

“Hey Bradley, I’m headed out for the night. Carly’s gonna be taking care of you and I’ll be back tomorrow.” You entered the room with Carly by your side.

“Thank you…” Bradley croaked, “For everything…”

Your heart melted a little bit, you knew it took a lot of effort to get the words out, “You are more than welcome. And I’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll get you transferred to a less intense unit.”

Rooster pouted and did a big thumbs down gesture.

You giggled, “That’s a great thing, Bradshaw. You don’t wanna be stuck in the ICU with me forever.”

He sassily rolled his eyes.

“Carly and I are gonna sign off some meds and check your lines.” You said, “And don’t give my girl too much sass tonight; she will be reporting back to me in the morning.”

Rooster scribbled on his whiteboard, No promises.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch13

Description: bit of a filler chapter BUT we get test results, get some cuddling, we get Mexico and ALEJO AND RUDY INCOMING!! Things will start moving next chapter - strap in!!

*Simon's POV*

Well that's the last time I try to help. Johnny practically drags me into the bed. I can tell she is on edge being around me. I don't sleep a wink - hell, I hardly take my eyes off her all night. Johnny helps to keep me grounded by resting his head on my shoulder. If he wasn't so relaxed, I would return to the kitchen. I wasted a perfectly good cuppa when I heard the girl screaming bloody murder. And that's the fuckin' thanks I get.. She eventually stops giving off the rancid, sour scent - she's scared of me. She looks as if she has burrowed in between John and Gaz. She looks as if she fits perfectly in that space.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I feel a small movement from underneath my head, then a gentle hand barely ghosting over my cheek. I fall back to sleep immediately, unsure if it had been real or just part of a dream.

*Simon's POV*

John sits up in bed about two hours everything had kicked off. We both seem to hold our breaths when the girl stirs slightly due to his movement. He then strokes a stray hair from her cheek and tucks it back behind her ear. Far gentler than I could handle something so delicate.

He doesn't even look at me, I should be asleep for all he knows yet he still whispers over to me "Kate's emailed. Got to go and check what she wants. Keep an eye on them, Simon". He says, nodding to the girl. "Kyle and Johnny would have a field day if they ended up alone with her on the pack bed". He explains, lightheartedly. I just huff an agreement. He carefully removes himself from the bed and opens and closes the door with a small click, not before sending a small nod in my direction.

As soon as the door shuts, the girl starts mumbling and moving in her sleep. She quickly moves onto the warm spot left by John. As if he senses her movement, Johnny rolls towards her like a madman and wraps her in his arms. Fuck sake Johnny! He was going to wake her up - he always did this. He attempts to move things around on the bed in his sleep. The only one he has ever managed to actually move is Garrick, but he would have no problem moving the girl. She is much smaller than any of us.

"Johnny!" I whisper shout towards him, trying to stay quiet. It doesn't work. He just rolls her over his body so that she is now between us - still a decent space between us thankfully. I can see Garrick fidgeting now too, missing the presence of the girl next to him. "Fuck sake Johnny, you're gonna wake everyone up!" i whisper-shout again. Johnny just groans but doesn't wake up. He always slept like a fuckin' log. He was a proper fidget in bed too. The only time he is ever still is when I hold him still.

All of a sudden, I feel fingers on my arm. I freeze and growl slightly, trying to remain in control. Don't fuckin' wake her up now, you prick! My brain shouts at me. I lay there like a statue, clenching my teeth. She whines, she fuckin' whines. "Mmmm, thereyouare" she murmurs, before pulling herself closer to me and wrapping herself around my arm. She is asleep, gently snoring. She thinks I'm fuckin' John. She keeps nuzzling closer and closer. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!

She starts getting dangerously close to my scent glands. I try to tilt my head away but she moans again. "Alphaa" she mumbles. The door opens. I don't hear it close. I glance towards the door. It's John. Thank god!

He takes in the sight with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Fuckin' move her, John" I whisper sharply. "She looks comfortable, Simon - would be a shame to wake her, would it not?" - "Captain - please.." - "Smells in here. Her scent's getting stronger. Thought I'd air it out a bit before everyone wakes up" he says gesturing to the open door. "I don't care - just get her off of me".

He just chuckles at me, enjoying my discomfort. "Simon, I'm just off the phone with Kate. Mission in Mexico - you, Johnny and the girl are loading up tonight. Kyle and I need to sort something elsewhere first - will discuss it more later - but she needs whatever sleep she can get. I'm not moving her" - I growl at his refusal to help. He just laughs again.

"I also pushed forward her test results. I think you're right. They were inconclusive because she hasn't actually presented yet - but she has certain results that would sugge-" - "She's a fuckin' Omega, John, don't need no test results."

She stirs again. I glare at John, who is still standing at the open door. "Wha' time is it, Alpha?" she mumbles groggily, without opening her eyes. John raises his eyebrows but doesn't reply. I glare at him again, trying to shout 'ANSWER THE FUCKIN QUESTION' using my eyes. It must have worked because he eventually responds. "Almost time to get up, love" how the fuck didn't she notice that the voice did not come from beside her? She pulls herself even closer to me, squeezing my arm "S'warm".. John huffs a laugh from the door. If looks could kill, John would be dead. I throw him the nastiest side eye I can manage.

She leans up close to my ear. I tense up - she whispers - "Can you - can you tell Simon that I'm sorry..? About last night.. And - and thank him for helping me..?" I freeze.. silence. That's the first time she has used my actual name when speaking to me...She wasn't speaking to you though, wanker - she was speaking to John.. my brain helpfully reminds me.

She squeezes my arm again, waiting for a response. "You've already told him love" John chuckles from the door.

She sits up in bed like a fuckin' rocket. Almost gives herself whiplash. She glares down at me with wide eyes. I stare back but drop my eyes to look at her smaller hands, wrapped tightly around my arm. She obviously notices and she releases me as if I'd burnt her. That hurt a bit - of course she wouldn't want to touch a monster like me.

"Oh my god.. oh my god - I'm so sorry. I didn't mea-" - "S'fine" I grunt, turning away from her and finally liberating myself from the bed. I brush past John as I leave the room. He pats me twice on the shoulder as I pass him.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Well, I've really done it this time. FUCK!!

I crawl away from the others, ready to break down. "I'm sorry, Captain.." - "now now, love - let's not go back to this - John.. call me John.. please?" He asks me, softly, stepping up to the edge of the bed and wiping my cheeks with his thumb. I wasn't crying, was I? Johnny and Kyle eventually wake up. They both look over towards John and I.

"What happened, Lassie?" Johnny asks - "I - I don't know.. I woke up next to the Lieutenant and - and he left.." I whimper..

Johnny growls "I'm goin' to fuckin' speak to him" - "Johnny!" The Captain barks "Give him space for a few minutes, alright?" I glance between the Alphas. "I'm sorry.."

"No, love.. you've got nothing to be sorry for.." Kyle reassures me.

"What did Si say to ya' lass?" Johnny asks.. "He.. he said it was fine.." - "That's all?" he asks confused.. "Why are you so upset then, doll?" - "I - I don't know" I respond, honestly.

John pulls me from the bed and wraps me around his body, carrying me to the other side of the bed with him, sitting down with me in his lap. "I'd say that was a very positive interaction.. Simon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, love. So if he says it's fine. Then that's what he means.." I try to nod in agreement.

"Now, listen up everyone.. I've got a couple of important things to say - First is that we have an issue in Mexico. Johnny, Y/N and Simon will go to Mexico initially. Kyle and I will tie up a couple of loose ends elsewhere first. I'll discuss it later in the meeting room". I tense slightly but try to be brave and accept that I am a soldier now. Fighting on the right side this time.

"Secondly - your test results, love." The two younger Alphas perk up slightly at this. John squeezes my hip slightly. "The doctors found the test to be inconclusive because you haven't actually presented yet BUT... you have certain markers in your blood that would suggest it possible for you to present as an Omega. Now these markers very rarely show up in Beta's however it is possible. So we have to basically wait until you present."

My blood turns to ice. I can feel my head go heavy. I feel sick.

"I - I'm an Omega..?" I whisper "Now, lass - that's not exactly what I said, is it?" John responds, gently rubbing my back.

Johnny is grinning madly behind me. John sends him a glare that I don't see, too preoccupied with being burrowed into his shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do..? Heats.. mates.. If-If I'm an Omega.. I - I don't know what to do..." I sob into his neck.

"Shhh love, shh now... We will cross that bridge IF and when we get to it.. I know of an Omega who is successful within the military. In fact, you'll be meeting him soon in Mexico. It is possible. I'm sure you'll be one of the exceptions - tough little thing that you are" he says fondly. I try to push a small giggle out between sobs. "That's it, love. Come on now, time to get ready for the day - got lots to go over before you leave.." I nod against his neck and clutch him a little bit tighter".

"Kyle, would you take Y/N back to her nest please?" - "s'not a nest" I interrupt - they both ignore me "Yes, Alpha" Kyle responds, standing from the bed and holding my hand, trying to encourage me to release the Captain. I step down from his lap and Kyle wipes the tear tracks from my cheeks before kissing me on the cheek.

The captain then instructs Johnny - "Johnny, go and talk to Simon. Go easy on him. He did nothing wrong" - my stomach sinks, they think Simon is the one who had upset me. I'm bad news. A burden.

I walk towards the door with Kyle "And Kyle.." the Captain stops us.. "Don't bloody barge into her nes-room without permission, just wait at the door while she is getting dressed, yeah?" He asks lightheartedly. Kyle sighs and agrees, walking to my room.

When we arrive at the door, it's still open from last night, and the blankets and clothes from the cupboard were strewn all over the floor. I must have put up a fight when Simon came and found me.

Kyle steps to the side of the door to try and obey his Alpha's command to stay outside. I grab his hand and tug him in. "Don't be dumb" I giggle.

"You'll get me in trouble, you little minx" he jokes.

I push him to sit on the bare bed.

"Just sit there and don't look"

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 17k (holy moly)

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

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

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

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have money.”

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

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

“Not enough for what?”

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

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

But he hadn’t changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talia. Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

None of it is real.

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

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

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

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

She had accused him of ruining her life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he just wake her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need their money-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what she’s good at.

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

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

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

This feels like all those feelings.

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

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

He can put Poppy first.

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

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

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

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

It isn’t about what he wants.

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

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

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

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

He needs to see Poppy.

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

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

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

And he became hers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talia.

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

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

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

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

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

But it hadn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 missed calls from Mom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you text him?”

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

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

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

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

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

But that changed once they graduated.

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

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

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

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

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

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

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

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

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

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

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

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

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

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

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

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

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

But he never seeks her out like this.

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

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

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming or not?”

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

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

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

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

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

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

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

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

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

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But a part of her feels it coming.

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

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

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

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

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

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

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

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

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

No, no, no.

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

“I love you-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Poppy,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

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

“I want you to leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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

[jazjelspen]

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.5]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(what if our mc participates in RSA's annual ball!)

("filler" chapter/splashes of angst but it gets real more into the chapter/fluff/mc having fun/fleshing out RSA students/ basically the same author's note in pt 4 applies here/not proofread/oh and mc has like a few NRC scares here T-T)

(requested tags!: @vivianstar-blog2 @phantomcookiedough)

if you want to be tagged in future chapters please comment or message me! I will only tag you if you directly ask for it and i will only tag you once unless you ask to be tagged on all future chapters of a particular series. thank you to all those who asked for a part 5!)

the ball: part 2

(prepping)

three full weeks have passed since you first seeked refuge in RSA and now it's now a brand new day in the fourth week of your stay. it was the day of the highly anticipated ball!

it was the school's annual ball with students from all dorms joining together for a night of magic and music. many found this boring while others were excited for it. you were one of many that were excited for such an event!

you and your five best friends including a distant friend named Elias Ashes all came to visit the so called 'fairy godfather' of the school, Evan Bleu, a fourth year of RSA working towards his official fairy godparent license but for now is practicing by making wishes come true around the school here and there when the time is right. in this present moment every one of you were standing in certain parts of his dorm room while he stood there overlooking every one with a smile.

"seems like you all seven seem to be in need of my services! would I be standing correct if I said that you all are here for the ball?" all of you simultaneously nodded before Evan spoke up once again while clapping a bit in excitement "amazing! this'll be fun! now, would you all be kind to tell or show some elements of what each of you would like to wear tonight?" asked the platinum haired boy while scrunching up his sleeves to his elbows with a slim white wand in hand.

Alex first hummed while thinking before shrugging "not sure, something nice, fancy, comfortable. elements?... you put whatever you think fits me most." he gave Evan a small smile "giving you all the creative liberty as long as I look good, blue."

Evan chuckled as he nodded "I understand Alex, now who's next?"

immediately right after he finished speaking chirped in the light caramel haired boy, Elias, who raised his hand up as he spoke up second "oh! oh! me... please! I'd like something similar to what you usually give me!.. but with a different type of shoe fit for the occasion please. since last time I lost my left shoe in the middle of the dance..." 

"oooh I'm so sorry... yes I'll keep that in mind!" exclaimed the white haired boy in blue.

you then raised your hand third, still unsure of what exactly you liked as long as it was comfortable for the night. "uhm, I'd like to go next!--" you spoke up while Evan gave his full eyes and ears to you "perhaps something comfortable yet fun looking?.. I'd still like to look good without feeling heavy or too tired at the end of the night!" you smiled as you spoke as well as mentioning several other elements to your outfit that you'd like to wear and have on you for the occasion. 

Evan nodded and kept a mental note of what you wanted "a unique yet well established mix! I just know for a fact your outfit will be amazing!"

Neige then was next to speak, but anything he said became slowly muted in your ears since you felt two small set of eyes looking at you. you slowly turned your head towards the open window of the room to come face to face with a little bat. a bat that seemed very familiar but you couldn't exactly put your finger on it on where you remember it from. what made it even weirder was that it's beady little eyes were looking right at you when you slowly started to realize that you have never seen a bat on campus before. 'how weird..' you thought 'perhaps it's a pet, or it's from the courtyard..' you felt like you had it on the tip of your tongue but you really weren't sure. it did out nerve you though because the only other place you've seen bats around was in NRC, specifically Diasomnia.

but if the only place bats could come from is Diasomnia then... could it?..

no it couldn't be, no way-- they wouldn't be that crazy in sending a small mammal to find you and watch you right?-- right?? 

if so, poor bat. 

but also if so, you knew you'd be overly annoyed and irritated beyond belief. why couldn't they just leave you alone?? wasn't it clear enough with you leaving that you didn't want to be around them anymore!?...

even if you did miss them all to death. 

yet despite this you reminded yourself that you left for a reason. you left because no one helped you enough and most of the time you fended for yourself and Grim when no one looked your way when you asked for help. they insulted you belittled you and made you feel worthless. threw you in overblot after overblot to play therapist to all those affected with issues that weren't any of your business to begin with yet were dragged in anyway. you were forced to live in a haunted dorm with the floors creaking and ceilings at times caving in on their own-- sometimes the ghosts were helpful and kind at times but your bad first impression of the beginning of your experience tainted the rest of it.

then.. what even was there to miss?

'no, I can't go back. I came here for a way home and a place to stay where I won't have to risk my life every week or month. I can't do this to myself anymore.' you reminded yourself. 

you let out a deep sigh before you felt a sudden gentle shake of your arm, you snapped your head towards who that was at the same time you snapped out of your thoughts. the one who shook your shoulder was Rielle. 

"hey... you seemed to be staring at something outside but it flew away and you stayed staring at that spot.. you feeling alright?" your favorite RSA redhead spoke as we realized that everyone in the room looked at you worryingly. the feeling of all eyes on you made you shrink down a bit.

"im fine im fine just-- remembering some stuff from back at NRC.. it's nothing really I didn't mean to make any of you guys worry." you shrugged as you gave them a sheepish smile. "anyway, where were we?" you asked, but then everyone kinda had a confused look on their faces now.

"_____," Rielle spoke "we've all finished saying what we wanted to say, we're gonna go get a quick bite before getting ready and finally leaving for the ball."

you looked at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaped mouth, to which Chenya ever so politely with one finger pushed your jaw up to close your lips together. "was I zoned out for that long?.." 

"uhh-huhh.." Chenya intercepted "kinda scary to be hones-- yoWCH!"

Alex slapped Chenya on the arm for his comment and spoke with an irritated tone "he's lying _____ don't listen to a thing this fur-ball has to say." huffed the young man. 

"ahh well-- then let's get going then! so we can get ready and be on time for the ball!" you stood up from wherever you were sitting "and thank you very much for your time, Evan!" you spoke as you gave thanks to the boy in blue before you walked over to the door, the rest of your group rushing in getting up and speed walking towards the door with you. all but Elias whom seemed to wait till everyone left so he could leave himself.

Evan waved at all of you as you walked out "bye bye starshines! see you in a few!"

everyone else said or yelled their 'see ya' laters.

when you were all now away from the proximity of Evan's dorm room though Chenya decided to start speaking,

"he calls everyone 'starshine'... me-ow always thought it to be kinda cheesy dontcha think?-- yoWCH!"

"shut it cat, it's just his thing leave the poor guy be."

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(getting ready)

the next few hours went by in a total blur. you all ate together while talking about school, common interests, and of course the ball. you all walked back to the Evan's dorm room to see a several group of students you recognized already walking out looking dashing and formal.

 once you all walked in it seems like Evan just finished up getting Elias ready-- and gosh was he sparkling like the night sky. "ah! hello everyone!" spoke our 'fairy godfather.' "come in! I just finished up my friend here so whomever is ready can come on next!" 

and the rest was also a blur but you clapped here and there for each of your friends who each looked flattering and stylish in their own unique ways with outfits that really suited their personalities. it wasn't until it was your turn to get ready that you fully now fully in the moment.

"now let's see... something comfortable yet fun.." mumbled Evan "let's try.. bibidi-babidi-boo." with a quick move of his wrist he pointed his wands towards you and a splash of tiny specs of stars engulfed your body to form the shape of your desired outfit. your hands almost covered your face as a reflex to shield yourself but quickly relaxed when you felt nothing but magic hugging you tightly before it dispersed and showed your outfit and-- it looked like something you'd only wish for in dreams. at first it was a bit weird to see yourself so formal after being in NRC for so long but you got used to it when you saw how it complimented all your features and your body type... and it felt hella comfortable!

except there was one thing missing...

Evan gasped as you poked a foot out "oh my! my apologies my dear" he flicked his wrist towards your shoes to change them to whatever pairs of shoes your heart wished for, along with some artistic contribution from Evan as well. 

your entire group either were stuck frozen staring(respectfully) or complimented you to death, overall everyone shared the same opinion: you looked absolutely amazing.

as everyone fell into chatter and were getting ready to leave and go out in about in new fabulous attire Evan had to announce one important thing "now remember everyone! spell only lasts until--"

"--the clock strikes twelve! we know we know blue, at twelve we all go back to normies." spoke Chenya as he tried to get comfortable in these formal clothes.

"very well then! now go on everyone, have fun! take lot's of pictures and make many memories! oh and don't forget to post on Magicam so I can see too!" the blue fairy waved you all off as you all walked out and cheered many 'thank you's and 'see you soon's in unison.

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(the ball)

you all walked to the ball since the ballroom was in such close proximity to the dorms. you all joked around and playfully mingled in a buzz of pre-party excitement. as you all approached the entrance you and your friend group stared in awe at the glowing entrance and banner welcoming you all to RSA's annual ball.

Neige let out a small 'whoa' under his breath as he held his hands up together under his chin "I knew the fireflies were a nice touch!"

Raps nodded, "just wait until you see the murals inside!"

as you took your first steps inside you could truly feel your breath sucked out of your lungs... in a good way. 

the scene that stood before you inside was nothing but magically. the ballroom was very large and wide with various sets of tables that you all helped set up now being occupied by several groups of students at the ball. classical music played in the back as well as an empty dj booth waiting to be used beside the small yet very talented orchestra playing only a few main instruments. despite how far away they were from the entrance you could still hear the vibrant and elegant melodies play in and out your ears as if it were right beside you. various students from various different dorms were slowly starting to occupy many parts of the ballroom aside from the tables to either just stand in their own groups in the corners of the room or to just get food on the many side tables out on display for all to get. and when you looked up your mind just exploded even more with how beautiful the ceiling and wall murals looked thanks to you and Raps's team up. they looked similar to the vibrant and detailed church murals you've seen before except the paintings here were much more vibrant and rich in color and beauty. and we can't forget to mention the chandelier! with the light hitting each speck of glass hanging onto the chandelier it's like it emphasized the scenery and made the murals pop and look almost heavenly.

wow, you really had much to say about the event.

Rielle gently grabbed your wrist and carefully lead you to any empty table you guys could find with enough seats for the six of you to sit together, once you did you all made sure to leave a few items or coats to mark this as your spot.

"lets go get some grub now! all those sparkles and fancy outfits have made me hungrier than a hog." Chenya tittered before Alex and Raps each grabbed the cat's left and right arms individually to drag him to the table as they exclaimed 'you bet!'. 

Rielle was about to head over with the other boys until he noticed that you haven't moved, seeing you still a bit star-struck at all the flowers, paintings, lights, and all other decorations you all set up as a group made him smile softly. "not joining us, shrimpy?" he asked,

'shrimpy'... you swore you almost heard Floyd's voice ring in your ears.

"I'll--" you interrupted yourself immediately by snapping your head to look at him in a split second "what?.." an almost afraid expression contorted your face. 

Rielle immediately noticed this reaction and his heart cracked seeing that look on you "o..oh!-- I'm so sorry _____ I didn't.. know you wouldn't like it--" he then by reflex quickly but gently held one of your hands with a genuinely guilty look on his face "it's just-- it's silly really but you at times remind me of a little shrimp since y'know.. I grew up in the sea! but I didn't know it’d come off in a bad way! I’m truly sorr!—“

ahh right, now you remember. he's told you that he was originally born and raised a merman, just like those other three you used to know.

you immediately stopped him from talking by simply interrupting him "no no! of course not!--  look you didn't offend me at all it's just.. it reminded me of a nickname a..."friend"... from NRC called me too.." you paused only to smile warmly, which melted off that frown off the redhead's face. "but I like it better when you say it."

the young man nodded in understanding, feeling better now that you told him how you really felt as well as feeling a bit special. he gave your hand a bit of a gentle squeeze before he heard the voice of Chenya steadily coming closer and closer.

"hurryy Red! your favorite strawberries and cream that you like are at the dessert table and everyone's getting their grubby hands on them before youu! let's gooo!~" Chenya linked arms with Rielle before dragging him away from you, leaving your hand cold. 

"I..I'll be right back _____!" he exclaimed before being dragged further into the crowd by his cat-eared friend.

even if the moment was resolved fast, it still left you a bit spooked.

You waved them off before you took your seat at the table you all decided on staying until you looked to your side to see Neige. you thought he left with the others but I guess not. "oh! hey Neige, not eating either?"

Neige who was currently on his phone perked up at the mention of his name and gave his full attention to you "I will! just that-- I'm kinda a bit occupied with some comments on a specific post lately.. they've been really weird and all.. I closed comments but as im previewing what they said before--" he spoke as he eyed his phone with a weird look on his face. "I understand what they mean but-- I also just don't get it exactly."

"mind if I take a look?" you asked before he gave you a nod and a sweet smile and handing you his phone. you gently took it from his hands to see it was the picture that you and him took on Magicam, you scrolled down to meet with an enormous amount of comments that you could only assume to be from NRC students considering what they are saying..

"so they went to RSA?.. lol they really switched up on us.."

"traitorous much?..."

"ooo so this is why my house leader has been meaner than usual."

"all of our house leaders have been meaner than usual anon."

"lmao tf is that the prefect"

"y is the ramshackle prefect in rsa..."

"that explains why everyone is talking about a boat."

"they do know they just started a war, right?"

and this was just a few of what you were able to read.

god, these comments really weren't helping..

"ah.." you sighed as you were hit in the face with the realization that now not only does everyone know, but that they are not handling it well. honestly you were glad they were at war with themselves at your departure. all you wanted was to leave them to their own devices with you not having to tug them all back like rabid dogs. yeah, let them be at war. let them handle things themselves, it wasn't your job to apologize for everything they did. 

you wouldn't really call it a betrayal that you left, it was a necessary act to take care of yourself. so if they wanted to call you a 'traitor' because you left to find a better way back home then so be it.

"night raven students, guess my leave from there to here has got them in a buzz.." you shook your head as you huffed "ignore them Neige they are just so pressed because of your school and their school being rivals. nothing against you personally at all." you flashed him a gentle smile in hopes of turning his frown upside down "not only that, but we're at a ball!" you held one of his hands gently as you tried to stay optimistic "c'mon let's eat something fast then hit the dance floor once the dj starts! we will not let some students from across the sea ruin our night of fun."

Neige could feel himself sigh and let out a nice big smile at your words, since you were definitely right on that part, we couldn't let students that aren't even a few feet close to us ruin this night.

then just as fast as they left the rest of your group came back quickly with food! especially Chenya and Alex who both seemed to be balancing plates of food on their heads and arms.

"me-ow thought that maybe we'd bring your plates to you since both you lazy kittens didn't get up~" purred Chenya.

Rielle was the next to interact "here, your favorite!" he spoke sweetly before placing a dish you've grown to love in RSA right in front of you.

you thank him kindly, once everyone set their plates down and ate you and Neige silently agreed to ignore the comments that you read together. the thing is that you felt even more uneasy than usual.

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

(the needle)

after eating and the dance music started that's when all of you jumped onto the dance floor and stated jumping and dancing your faces off, even if some of you didn't even know how to dance or were not very used to it you all felt comfortable enough with each other to not even think about being judged. both music and blood were beating against your ears and the beat of your heart was hitting against your throat as you were dancing and jumping while all of you interacting and holding onto each other in the middle of the crowd of other RSA students that were enjoying their own times with their friends too. for once in your life you've felt free and full of healthy adrenaline. after months of having to play Cinderella at Night Raven College you were finally able to have your own night at the ball where no one could bother you anymore, no headmaster to boss you around and no upper or even lower class-men to ruin this for you anymore.

at least you really hoped this was the case tonight.

there was a moment where you felt a strong breeze from behind you, then another breeze, and another. it got to the point where you had to snap away from the excitement to now move your head towards whatever was that was basically flying beside you. you looked over at the side where you felt your last breeze and it was towards one of the open windows that were open to let in the fresh night air.

how odd.

it was a bat hanging from the top of the window, maybe the same bat that you saw recently?...

then there was a small yet very bright ball of light that shined right beside the bat as if accompanying it. anyone could've mistaken it for a small firefly but something was different, very off, it seems as if these two were watching you. what weirded you out more was that no one beside the windows noticed these two, almost as if it was only you who could see it.

you stayed there standing in the middle of the dancing crowds, you squinted your eyes to get a better view but all you could see was the little bat flapping it's wings as if motioning a 'come here' movement.

"hey ______! why're you standing our song is playing!" Raps exclaimed you out of your thoughts, you flinched a bit before giving them a small yet obviously forced smile to them all before responding back.

"oh! I.." you paused as your eyes flickered between your friends and the bat with the little bright light "I need to use the restroom! I'll be right back!--" you exclaimed right before you tried to squeeze yourself through to go straight to the window in hopes that your friends were too high on the dancing adrenaline to not notice you. when you got closer the bat it quickly flew out and darted to somewhere up higher..

the bright little light stayed for you to finally approach it, seeing how close you finally were this same light started to slowly fly towards a quick back exit from the ballroom where almost no one paid attention to. as it flew you could hear your name being faintly ushered by said light, this only piqued your interest even more and the faint tone of it's voice held a sense of familiarity to you. it caused your legs to then quickly catch up to it out the exit and swiftly walk out.

the light lead you to a brick wall behind one of the school's towers, the light seemed to phase through the wall before coming out again when it saw you didn't follow it. the small light slowly walked through the wall, following each step you took. you took a deep inhale, puffed out your cheeks, closed your eyes and walked right through the wall! when feeling no impact from it you then opened one of your eyes and let yourself exhale.

looking around your surroundings you see that it's all dark, a large and wide stone space with a small window above the ceiling that shined the moonlight towards the middle of the room where it rested a spinning wheel with the bright little light that continued to usher your name landing right on top of the tip of the spindle. your footsteps echoed and bounced across the room as you slowly approached the spinning wheel.. you watched the little light continue to glow and then seep itself into the needle of the spindle. your hand, without any of your control, then slowly reached towards the needle. it was slow with your conscious trying to stop it from moving but your hand continued to hover over the needle. right as you felt your finger graze the tip of it..a large puff of black smoke immediately engulfed and wrapped itself around your entire body.

until you felt a heavy weight lean and hold onto you, two arms around your waist, a face on your shoulder, black hair in your own face as well as the shadow of horns... very familiar horns.

"my child of man... I have you again."

oh.. no.

oh no.

(hope this came out alright! I don't know if I proofread this properly at all so I'll just count this as not proofread T-T hope it's still a nice chapter to start off the angst and drama that will seep in from NRC to RSA!)

[pharawee]

Back in May I bought Khemjira's Rescue on meb, happy that there finally was an official English translation because I love horror and actually liked the first pilot teaser for Spirit Reborn - even though it wasn't well received.

I now know why the teaser wasn't well received (the official version has since been deleted and there's only some re-uploads left) and I agree. Khemjira isn't really a classic QL where the story centres around two people falling in love. It's a horror novel first (and the novel's content warning is very open about this). Much of the romance only happens in the bonus chapters. It's also steeped in Isan folklore and Theravadin Buddhist teachings and virtues, with heavy and uncompromising themes of karma, rebirth, right action and non-attachment (which I really appreciate but might not be everyone's cup of tea because it completely ignores concepts of justice and revenge).

The novel itself is translated really well with only a few editorial slip-ups but tons of footnotes to explain potentially unfamiliar concepts and give translations for the recited khatha. The bonus chapters are plentiful and rewarding if you're into romance and the usual level of BL novel spiciness, but even without them the narrative flows really well and comes to a satisfying conclusion. I really liked the novel - it might be my favourite right after I Feel You Linger in the Air - so I was slightly apprehensive when Mandee announced that they had acquired the rights for a new adaptation.

I don't know the actors at all so I only have the novel to go by, but all in all I'm really happy with Mandee's pilot teaser. It's so close to the novel that even seemingly short filler scenes are recognisably taken from moments in the story. And while I still think Keng Harit is a bit too young as Por Kru Parun, he manages to capture his commanding and alluring presence very well.

My only worry now is that they'll downplay the religious themes in order to elevate the romance between, well, basically everyone. I couldn't even blame them though, because most of the audience will be expecting romance, and the series probably wouldn't be very well received if both couples remained chaste until the very end. I don't think Khemjira's Rescue even qualifies as slow-burn for reasons I'll explain a bit later (and behind a spoiler warning).

But first, a bit more about the main characters because I've seen some confusion about their names etc. I'll keep these as spoiler-free as Mandee's pilot teaser was so if you've watched that then you're all set.

Khemjira is cursed, as are all male descendants of his family, doomed to die before their 20th birthday (the series changes it to 21). His mother gave him a traditionally female name to confuse the curse but to no avail: as he grows older he's more and more troubled by the heavy and malevolent presence of spirits. These are kept at bay by an amulet given to to him by a venerable Por Kru (a practicioner of Buddhist white magic) but when that's no longer enough, his friend Jhet introduces him to his teacher Por Kru Parun who lives in a small Isan village. Despite the burden of bad karma, Khem is a good person who always tries his best even when he feels like giving up.

Por Kru Parun (the series calls him Karan) is a respected practicioner of Buddhist white magic. He lives in a traditional wooden house outside of a small Isan village and protects his community from spiritual harm. He learned from his grandfather (who was himself a respected Por Kru) and also spent many years ordained as a monk. Because he lives by the precepts (which go beyond the five precepts of laypeople) he seems detached and aloof, often wearing dark sunglasses so others won't get charmed by him. His real (nick)name is Peem but he only starts using it with Khem once the two get romantically involved.

Jhettana and Charnvit (aka Jhet and Charn) are Khem's best friends. Khem meets Jhet during freshman orientation when Jhet senses the malevolent spirits around him. It's also Jhet who suggests visiting his teacher Por Kru Parun in his home province. They do this during a university excursion. This is how they meet Charn who's part of the student trip and very suspicious about what they're doing. Charn is extremely polite, addressing everyone as Khun. He wears glasses to aid his bad vision. Both Jhet and Charn are extremely protective of Khem, choosing to become Parun's students in order to help save him. They're also the secondary couple with a surprising past connection.

These two boys are Thong and Ake, Parun's spirit servants. They're the ghosts of 12-year-old twins that already served Parun's grandfather. They also have a surprising role to play in things to come.

SOME SPOILERS FOR THE MIDDLE OF THE NOVEL

As for why the romance can only happen after Khemjira's curse has been lifted: as practitioners of white magic, Parun and his students Jhet and Charn have to adhere to the precepts. These include abstinence from unchastity, so they should remain non-attached to thoughts of sexual and romantic nature. If one of these precepts is broken, all of them are considered broken (which makes it impossible to practice white magic) - Khemjira's rescue would fail if any of them got involved romantically. Parun knows that he's mindful enough to remain non-attached until the curse has been dealt with. He also knows that he can't expect the same of Khem so he refuses to take him as his student (which is fortunate because that way we get to read about Khem's pining).

And beyond the horror and the romance, there's also a third element that heavily features in the story: rebirth. All of the characters' fates are interwoven through several past lives, and I'm really curious how Mandee will decide to tackle this added layer of complexity and identity. In The Sign, Idolfactory used the same actors througout every past life (while 1000 Years Old used different actors with the same identifying birth mark). In Khemjira's Rescue the past identities of some of the characters are incredibly important and I'd hate to see them getting erased by using the same actors to better fit with BL marketing. It was so rewarding to find out that Jhet and Charn were starcrossed lesbian lovers in a past life and I'd love it if they kept that reveal for the series as well.

Oh, and also? Yes, there's going to be at least one naga. 🙌

END OF SPOILERS

Ultimately, if Mandee truly commits to playing the long game and doesn't simplify the story in order to appeal to marketing opportunities, this could end up being one of the best Thai BL series to come. From what I saw, the actors can definitely pull it off, and the fact that the 11 minute long trailer focuses so much on novel-accuracy is very promising already. Just don't have Parun and Khem get it on too early. Sometimes you have to keep it in your pants for a bit in order to save the day. 🙏