#and it includes 'that's what your country deserves' lmao

[kimmkitsuragi]

btw fuck foreigners who are criticizing KK for what he has to use as propaganda. bestie if KK loses, there wont be a country left for any of us let alone refugees lmao

[cryptfile]

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

my masterlist

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[irithnova]

Looking at her(?) post, myrddin is the incarnation of the stereotype of the american who thinks their country only do good vs the evils other dicatorships. I saw that post not long ago where she was talking about rusame fans and basically she saids it brushed her the wrong way that people where making content about this meanwhile russia is a pariah/mafia state waging a genocidal war since 2014 (or before if you go back to chechnya and georgia). Considering she lost a friend in ukraine it's understable that she has these feelings. The problem is that it became very hypocrite when someone pointed out that she don't gave a fuck about the countries her nation had destroyed and the thousands of civilians merely considered as collateral damage, (so it was kind of weird to ask people to cancel a country because they do horrible things but it surprisingly doesn't apply to your). And she answered by posting an article about a russian nationalist killed and called the poster a vatnik. adding the facts that often she post about nato that she considere a 100% peaceful organisation (hi libya and afhganistan who were NOT asked by UN),Usa (hi MeNa/LatAm), that people who posted about iraq war where russians trolls (no way it's people who gets hurt by us intervention, huh ?) everyone who disagree with her is paid by the kremlin and because usa are the 1st global power they should be kind of the world police. It looks like she just is an american nationalist who doesn't aknowledge that her country is as much of a terrorist state as russia, and the millions lives who gets destroyed are barely collateral damages(or they deserved it, these damn 7 yo jihadist).

Sorry for the long post and for the possible non-comprehension, english is not my first language and i wanted to talk about it without being treated as a russian agent.^^'

Disclaimer: Do not send threats to myrddin ffs

The myth of American benevolence and American exceptionalism is a plague lmao. Yeah as someone who's country (Philippines) was directly affected by American imperialism and who's suffering under American imperialism is constantly downplayed because of the myth of American exceptionalism I really don't appreciate any mention of America's imperialist reality being met with "YOU'RE A VATNIK! YOU'RE A RUSSIAN SPY!"

Yeah it's incredibly hypocritical to get mad at people for drawing hetalia Russia art because of the invasion of Ukraine but be completely fine with hetalia America art despite... Everything about America's imperialist legacy which persists to this day. The U.S helped implement a racial hierarchy system in the Philippines and the affects are still felt to this day. American imperialism/interventionism is still tearing people lives apart.

I do sympathise with the fact that they've lost a friend in Ukraine - that's terrible. However that doesn't mean that in some sort of logical sequence it then justifies running around with a blindfold on trying to ignore America's faults.

I admit that I get annoyed myself when people woobify Russia too much because surprise - I'm not a fan of the Russian state either (I despise it) despite the vatnik accusations, and I've been quite vocal about my distaste for their actions myself, but unless the content is crossing the line into Russian (or American) imperialist apologia, it's just content that annoys me/is annoying at the end of the day and that's that. By their logic they should not be America posting then? They hate rusame art/content because of Russian imperialism but... Nothing about American imperialism?

But wait - the U.S and NATO have done nothing wrong, right? And anyone and everyone who levels well founded criticisms at them MUST be being paid off by the Kremlin, right? Including people whose families' lives, countrymen's lives, and even own lives who were ripped apart due to their actions? Right?

Their lived experiences = Russian agent now I guess.

The fact that it got to the point where myrddin defended what they thought was a Ukrainian using "Mongol" as an insult towards Russians because I said it was racist/had it's basis in Nazi eugenicist science and that it should not be tolerated, and accused me of spreading Russian propaganda of "Ukrainians being Nazis"... Yeah myrddin, you're just racist lol. The fact that they had the gall to make (really bad) posts about hetalia Mongolia beforehand too. The gall of it all.

Considering English isn't your first language - if you sent an ask into Myrddin anyways they'd probably point that out and laugh at you. Because they're like that (saying this because they've explicity made fun of a LatAms grammar before when they sent in criticism) I guess.

If you're so American imperialist brainrotted that it comes to that, please get the fuck off my blog.

[innerchorus]

I am currently having Saam feels and I just need to express them somehow!! He's gonna have a better time in Wolfpack than he does in canon— not only is his love Kharlan alive, Hilmes is proving to be a worthy leader, they're not stuck between a rock and a hard place, etc etc, and I like to think he and Shapur might feel a shared connection of them both having changed their allegiances from Andragoras to Hilmes (though for very different reasons)... Things are really looking up for both his country and liege, and he's got a tiny healer aggressively pushing him to take better care of himself. And... And... Fuck, my head's all jumbled. Maybe Hilmes would confide in him with his insecurities, all the complicated and intense emotions and grief and everything regarding the history of Kaykhusraw and the clan, the truth of his lineage, his uncertainties, his resolve to build a better Pars, everything, the sheer trust of it all (unlike a certain someone...*side-eyes chapter 115 Hilmes*), and he gets to witness Hilmes grow!! He'd be so proud! I do wonder what he'd think of all the clan history stuff though, he'd be Shook for sure. I think he'd really encourage the idea of the ceremony for the Temple of Truth, it just feels right for him. And he'd bond with Arslan over wanting Hilmes to grow... He's gonna have so many bonds with so many people! Including various clan folk— chaos aside Kazai is a caring person once you get to know him after all. He doesn't get to be isolated anymore.

I don't imagine Kubard would like to serve Hilmes, though— he might end up joining the clan, he might just strike out on his own to be a wanderer who occasionally keeps in touch with everyone else. He might first encounter the clan in Daylam or something, or somewhere near, maybe when the clan is rounding up rural areas to help around or fortify them or just responding to the Lusitanians (by striking them down), and maybe they could've fought alongside each other and think “oy this guy's fun!”

I think I've posted about the mages integrating themselves into the local folks' day-to-day lives by helping manage grain storage and helping repel pests and healing people and stuff like that, so what if they expand a little, extend their services to areas outside of Shapur's lands? And that's how they probably ended up somewhere around Daylam?

I don't know how to end this so uh, have this mental image of Eihon whacking Hilmes and/or Saam and/or Zandeh with her trusty stick. I don't know how this got into my head but it's stuck there and I'm about to make it your problem.

I once saw a fanart of a very worried Zandeh piling a mountain of blankets on a sick Saam with Hilmes sitting by his bedside, haven't tracked down the source but it was very cute.

Oh so many Sam feels... These are good ones though! It's nice to have something to counteract his canon position a little, and imagine him loved, surrounded by comrades, with the kind of social support that I think he really needs and has been sorely missing. Someone like Kubard is happy with his own company for a time but I can't help but think Sam feels best when he has people he is close to nearby.

This does sound like a big improvement on his canon situation right now. I cannot express how much I want to see Sam's pride at seeing Hilmes grow into the person he hoped he would, the ruler he felt he had the potential to be. 😭

And yeah it totally feels like Kubard would fight alongside the clan in a situation like that; it's a little like him teaming up with Merlaine, or killing off Lusitanians bandits causing trouble.

Also the idea of Eihon whacking Zandeh with a stick is absolutely comedic and I love it and he probably deserved it but I imagine he'd be a bit crestfallen nonetheless ...like a puppy that's just been disciplined lmao

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hiya!! Can I have a matchup for Bungo Stray Dogs and maybe Attack on Titan? My self appointed nickname for the internet is Bunny or Julii and my pronouns are she/her. I am a leo and a INFP. I’m 5’1” (I think, I’m short but it only bugs me when it’s inconvenient. IE: high shelves.) I’m plus sized and pale with fluffy honey colored hair with natural dark brown roots. I usually shave half of my eyebrows off so they’re nubs to draw a new, pointier shape but I’m lazy and don’t draw them on a lot. I’ve been told I’m dainty and have slightly bucked and a tiny overbite- my teeth kind of look like rabbit teeth tbh. Personality: I’m kind, obnoxiously so and mostly to ppl who don’t deserve it. I’m also silly and careful ab people’s feelings. I tend to be, not a mom friend but a big/lil sis type of friend depending on who. I’m shy at first but can get very loud and have been told I’m a funny girl. I kind of hate authority but need to be told what to do- it’s a battle of two wolves. I also really like princess treatment a lot lmao like pet names are a yes with ppl I know. I dress cutesy or goth or both and ppl have been weird about it. People infantilize me a lot. It doesn’t help I’m autistic and have ADHD Hobbies: drawing, writing stories, watching videos, cosplaying, collecting fashion dolls and Care Bears. Likes- pet names, praise, art, anime, spicy/sweet foods, rabbits, dolls, scary movies/horror attractions Dislikes: cruel people, existence- like the constant struggle of it (I’m fine I swear), being treated like a kid bc of my hobbies and appearance, most modern country music, and Julius Caesar. I forgot to put my sexuality but I identify as queer and mayyyybe ace. I prefer women but I do like the occasional man and the like. I like a buuuunch of anime and fictional men, so it’s okay if I’m matched up with a man. :)

Hi Bunny! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I saw your additional fandom ask and have included it here. Since you said you would prefer a female matchup but would be okay with a male, I've gone with female matchups but included a male suggestion as well. If you'd like me to elaborate on these alternate matchups, just let me know! I hope you like your matchups!

In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...

I think you and Naomi would get along well. You’re both people who care deeply about those you care about and are “sister” figures to your friends.

Naomi does have a bad habit of babying those she cares about, and you definitely fall under that category. Pleas just tell her that it’s something that you dislike and she’ll do her best to treat you as an adult.

She does sometimes slip up though so be patient with her while she breaks the habit. She’s trying her best, it will just take time.

Did I hear princess treatment? Oh, Naomi is all over that. She’s always asking to do your hair, pick out outfits for you, massage your back, take you out on dates, buy things for you. She enjoys being able to treat the person she loves.

I get the feeling that Naomi would like a mix of pop and country music. She may not seem like it but I think she would enjoy modern country music a fair bit. Please recommend some songs for her to listen to.

For your consideration, Atsushi would be a good male matchup for you.

In Attack on Titan, I match you with...

Sasha is a lot like Naomi in that she cares deeply about you. But there’ll be no babying from this one. Whether they’re an actual child, a friend, or an older high ranking official, she’s treating everyone the same, especially if they have food.

Speaking of food, Sasha loves taking you on breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates. She gets to spend time with you and try lots of tasty food? That’s a win-win in her book.

She also needs to be told what to do a lot of the time since she struggles with taking the initiative. It’s handy for you both having friends like Mikasa who can take the lead when need be.

Your carefulness of peoples feeling balances out Sasha’s naturally “say what’s on her mind” way of talking. You’re able to smooth over a lot of conflicts that may arise from Sasha carelessly saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

Please don’t ask her to watch horror movies with you. She’ll eat all the snacks and once they’re gone, she has nothing to distract her from what’s happening on screen. She’ll be up all night due to fear and a stomach-ache from the snacks…

For your consideration, Connie would be a good male matchup for you.

In Jujutsu Kaisen, I match you with...

Nobara is a good balance between Naomi and Sasha. She enjoys spoiling you but won’t overdo it. She’s a firm believer that if she goes overboard with buying and doing things for you now, it won’t be special when she does it later.

That’s not to say she won’t give you the princess treatment though, especially if she knows you like it. She’ll also give you a bunch of pet names based on things she knows you like or her favourite features of you.

Definitely someone who can take charge when needed. She’s a born leader and has the charisma to make it work. She’ll happily give you guidance where it’s needed.

You two would be the “older sister” friends to a lot of people. You both give off that energy and, when combined, you’re like the older sister everyone needs, always looking out for them but teasing them mercilessly.

Won’t treat you like a kid. In the world of demons and curses they live in, treating someone as something less than they are can be fatal. She will treat you the way she wants so be treated, no more, no less.

For your consideration, Yuji would be a good male matchup for you.

[ilgaksu]

For the ask game: 1, 23, 30, 50

From these writer asks, which I am LOVING answering

1. I answered this one (about fics I'd recommend as a primer to my work) here, but you should let me know if you agree with my choices. I'm curious what someone else would pick???

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

OHHHH I'm trying to think and drawing a blank. I think I want to try and deconstruct tropes a lot more than write to the letter of them, but all of the ones I can think of right now are ones you can guess from my work generally. I would LOVE to write a historical court drama for dmbj but I have written those before....I even had a historically accurate Golden Age of Piracy one I plotted and never wrote.....uh, help. Maybe werewolves? I've never wanted to but I think it's more I haven't found a route into the idea that compels me yet.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Trans Xie Yuchen (and also generally always, lmao.) I am drawn to work by the implicit challenge of it, and I am immensely grateful to the sensitivity readers I have had and continue to have, but writing the majority of my dmbj fic, including that aspect, hasn't just affected my fic but me as a person irl. I think art affects our lives in ways we don't expect, and maybe ones we should have, and I always pick work to push the limits of an idea, or elaborate on it. Honestly I get terrified work feels repetitive when it becomes such a huge body of work as the heihua extended universe has.

(I'm not sure how well-known this is, but let you blow what's left of my right mind was me teaching myself to write a transmasc lead alongside sex scenes. Simultaneously. not what you want, but what you deserve is the first attempt at writing pwp with penetrative sex. the boy behind the drapes, the girl inside the crate is both a labour of love and the bane of my life in terms of a work I'm trying to do justice to.)

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

I regularly order two drinks at once in cafes because I genuinely want both, and one of my hobbies is going to supermarkets while abroad. Triple bonus if I can try country-specific drugstore makeup.

Sisi Empress of Austria is one of my favourite historical figures, mostly because of a bootleg version of Elisabeth das Musical I saw on YouTube at 17. I do not speak German.

Also, the Sultanate of Women in Ottoman history is one of my more recent historical interests, so if anyone has any book recommendations I guess?

Sorry I couldn't think of any fic ones, I'll have to dream some up another day

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Six

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 15k

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Five)

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And all of her good is even better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he had seen his life flash before his eyes. 

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

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

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

Friendship.

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

She’ll forgive him and they can be friends.

Eventually.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least she hadn’t blocked him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The guys have been right, for the most part.

She does look okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All except one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks he gets it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I agree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He won’t be able to handle that.

“How’s that going for you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wishes Poppy could be there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not true, I-,”

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

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

He’s frustrated.

He’s desperate. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Poppy!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’ll see you in five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would have kissed her, he knows it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she thinks it’s working.

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

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

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

She should be exhausted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was wondering if you’d seen Luke?”

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

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

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

Nico has put them all up to it.

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

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

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

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

Distracting herself with work had been going so well.

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

“Ouch,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re all funny, Poppy.”

She really is losing her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of which had one common theme.

Nico.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she had bumped into Nico.

And she hates that she had felt a little better.

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

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

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

Where is your dream vacation destination?

He wants to visit Costa Rica.

What is your favourite sport outside of hockey?

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

What does he miss the most about home?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t sleeping, either?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy can barely look at her anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though, she knows Nico appreciates it.

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

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

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

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

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

She remembers the phone call as soon as she reads it. She had cancelled instead of rescheduling, knowing she was picking up extra work and would be busy until pretty much after the Christmas break. She was supposed to call in the new year. She’d gotten distracted. She hadn’t thought it was an emergency, it wasn’t like she thought she would need it for contraceptive purposes. And her periods hadn’t even been that bad since she stopped using it. Light flow, 28 day cycle, barely any cramps. She’d even been keeping a track of it, herself. She had nothing to worry about, which is probably why she hadn’t remembered to book herself back in. Hadn’t thought to start taking any other birth control in the meantime.

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

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. 

No, no, no.

This isn’t happening.

She’s jumping to conclusions.

It’s just a sickness bug from the takeout.

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

She isn’t pregnant.

She can’t be pregnant.

Next Chapter

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

[seiwas]

i’ve been busy and it’s been awhile and i haven’t popped in for a hot minute BUT i just had a sudden thought about iwaizumi (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

you’re in the point of your relationship where you both know your feelings for each other but haven’t made it official yet. he’s studying overseas while you’re in your home country, both of you busy pursuing your own dreams. the difference in timezones has been particularly challenging—the missing presence, the frequent missed calls, the late replies, and, most especially, the intense longing. however, as you have fallen asleep while waiting for him, tired beyond words from the intense day you’ve had, he’s over there sitting at his desk at his apartment after class, looking at his phone contemplating whether he should call you still—he knows it’s late, and he knows you deserve a restful sleep, but he can’t shake off that feeling of longing, the sound of your voice, the shine in your eyes, and even the softness of your lips… he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he finds himself pressing the dial button anyway—sleep and timezones be damned (genuine apologies from hajime to you), he misses you so much he can’t help but be overcome with selfishness. and it’s okay, it’s worth it he thinks, especially with the way you groggily greet him with that sweet smile of yours, your eyes gleaming with warmth albeit the darkness of the room. he sees it, he feels it through the small screen. “sorry, did i wake you?” he knows he did, but he really can’t help it. “it’s alright, i was waiting for you to call, anyway” you tell him smiling sleepily. and god he feels it, making his heart beat a steadily fast pace causing him to feel warm all over. he hopes you feel it too because after you both bid your sleep well and good night, his heart whispers those three words he’s been wanting to say, but he’d wait, oh he would wait, just a little longer… just until before the coming break because he finds himself booking a flight, the fastest one to get to you. he does so spontaneously because he’s selfish, just to see you, to hear you, and to maybe, no, absolutely show you just what he feels seeing you smile on that call, but this time, he hopes to accompany it with a kiss and those three words his heart is dying for you to hear…

OMG didn’t expect it to be long but!!!JDHDIDJS also honestly i originally am not a hajime truther (,,>ࡇ<,,) but i have seen the light through you and i have been enlightened ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ (lmao) okay, i am going back to fighting irl battles now! i hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ(i’ve been brewing (heh) some matcha experiments lately and would share some thoughts next time i drop by ໒( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵) until then, teehee)

-matcha nonie<3

matcha nonie hello!!! so lovely of you to drop by 🥺 i hope you’ve been getting lots of rest despite you being busy!! 🥹 i am looking forward to all your matcha experiments!!!! let me know what they are when you have the time 🥺🥺 lately i’ve been trying matcha + coffee (on my tired days especially akxnsj) and it definitely gives me a boost!!!

and w a hajime thought omg… 🥹 an ldr hajime thought too 🥹🥹🥹 matcha nonie. if i tell u. i think abt this all the time 😭😭😭 it’s one of my fave things to include in a slowburn hajime love story 😭😭 i think it’s a canon event ngl the yearning and the pining and the feelings there without saying anything is so him 😭

AND WHAT A COMPLIMENT to make u see the light 😭😭😭 i am so flattered n so touched… i think. he is such a special and specific brand of boyfriend i can’t even fully explain it 🥹🥹🥹 he’s just… him, y’know?

i also. may have written smth similar to what u just said 🥹 it’s in a privated fic here on tumblr, under my hajime series ‘(keep me) steady, hold me gently’ (tho i think it’s still up on my ao3!!) it’s called ‘by your name only’ 🥹 i’ve privated it bc i plan to redo the entire series 🥹 my writing has changed a bit since writing it (which is also why i wanna rewrite it, apart from formatting reasons).

BUT SINCE YOU JUST REMINDED ME OF IT WITH THIS LIL HAJIME THOUGHT OF YOURS—a snippet from one of my hajime fics under the cut!

When Iwaizumi takes up Sports Science in California, you stay behind and complete your degree in Japan. The time difference sucks; just as he starts his day, you’re ending yours. Still, you make an effort to talk within the window of hours you’re able to.

At 1:03 a.m., you are cozied up on your bed, night light casting a soft glow onto your tired eyes. You yawn, squinting at your phone while waiting for a familiar face to pop up on screen. A few minutes pass, and it vibrates, the picture you took of Iwaizumi that summer after high school on display.

You swipe your screen to find bright light streaking through the lens of Iwaizumi’s camera, obscuring your vision of him.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, before the view turns to black. Random blobs and shapes move around and you suspect that he’s probably wiping the lens while moving to a place with shade. “Sorry, just walking to campus right now.”

You wait patiently.

Soon enough, you are faced with a clearer visual of Iwaizumi, his spiky hair now shaped into a semi-crew cut—olive green eyes giving off the same stare you know can only belong to him. He doesn’t look much different from the photo assigned to him on your phone, but he doesn’t look the same either. The fact that you notice these changes means that time has passed, and you’re reminded that this is the Iwaizumi you no longer have—the Hajime you could have had.

“Hey,” he greets, sending you a grin. A few beats and recognition flashes through his face as he notices that you’re all tucked in bed, ready to sleep. “Shit, did I wake you?”

You laugh and shake your head, mushing your cheek against your pillow, “No, it’s okay,” you snuggle up to your duvet, “was waiting for your call anyway.” you readjust your phone and place both hands under your cheek, “You rushing to class today?”

“Not really.” he answers, looking up from the screen, presumably to cross a road. “First period canceled, so I’m heading to the gym for a bit. How ‘bout you?”

“Well,” a playful glint sparks in your eyes, “not rushing to class, no. Not going to the gym, either. Not in this outfit, I think.” you smile, suppressing a laugh. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but you can see traces of a smirk gracing his lips.

Since going to America, Iwaizumi has gone through a few changes: his confidence, his humor, and his temperament—all of which have gotten better. He’s a lot more relaxed now than he used to be, joking around and going along with your jokes every now and then. But underneath all these improvements, he retains the same qualities that make him the Iwaizumi you know (and love).

“Ha. ha. Funny.” he responds sarcastically.

A twinge pinches at your heart, and you think, God, this banter, it hurts. This is the soft spot you know he holds for you. You’re brought back to the same nastiest look he’d given you when you wrote the most horrible puns on Aoba Johsai banners during matches.

“I meant, how ‘bout you, you aren’t rushing to class tomorrow? Actually–” the video moves around and you catch a glimpse of him tapping his smart watch, a familiar black bracelet on his other wrist, “—shouldn’t you be asleep?” When he returns to the screen, worry lodges through his furrowed brows, a small pout forming on his face. You want so badly to be there to wipe it off.

“It’s fine. You called, so.” you say softly, gently, leaving room for your admission to ring louder. You know he understands because he’s done the same.

“Well,” he copies you, “I don’t want to keep you up. Sleep’s really important, you know.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “Okay,” disappointment poorly hidden in your tone.

But he knows, he always does. “Call me when you’re free later, I’ll pick up. We can catch up then.”

You smile and nod. A yawn escapes you, eyes slowly drifting shut. “Good morning, Haji.” you mumble.

He freezes.

He wouldn’t have heard it if not for his earphones (thank god he had them). It’s the first time you’ve ever called him Haji. Heat rises from the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears, down again to the expanse of his cheeks. The familiar thump sounds loudly in his ears.

“‘Night,” he responds, whispering your name before ending the call.

It takes him a while before he continues to walk towards the gym; his heart is pounding too hard and too loudly for him to focus on where to go. All that replays in his mind is the sound of you saying Haji, softly, tenderly—the way you encase the syllables of his name in comfort that feels like it belongs to your lips.

Haji.

He wonders if you meant to call him that.

[my-gf-is-kazuichi-soda]

I'm watching Sonia's free time events for the first time to get a better sense of her character. Liveblogging my thoughts.

Anyway, I was today-years-old when I realized that both Kazuichi and Sonia have braids in their designs. The placement in Kazuichi's braid makes her hair asymmetrical, drawing attention to her quirkiness. Sonia's braid placement is reminiscent of a crown but also reminds me of a brain on the outside of her head, an allusion to her royal status with a hint to a darker, creepier side. I'm not saying this seriously I'm just having fun here.

put under a readmore bc oh my gosh this got long

The second FreeTime:

Ah, we finally get the answer to the age-old question: Is she a Very Real Princess that lives in a Very Real Castle?

The answer is YES.

And it actually sounds like a pretty cool castle from her description.

Kazuichi would be having the time of her life lol. I have been toying with the idea of Sonia becoming a friend to Zoey and Kazuichi, though the friendship for her and them is still a bit weird they all manage to make it work after a rocky start. Zoey's not worried about Kaz catching feelings again or whatever, she's worried about Sonia treating Kazuichi like a "creep" over a misunderstanding or something similar. Then again, Zoey is a bit protective of Kazuichi (and vise-versa) so it's a given that if you want to be friends with Zoey you just keep negative thoughts about Kazuichi to yourself lol.

WAIT this is basically the same question Kazuichi asked Hajime in the second or third free time what!!!

Okay I did NOT read the second part of that and then she threw me for a loop with-

Sonia's like: Hajime, let's be swingers baby!

Apparently her legs can be flexible after all lmao.

Ohhhhhh so she was basing her idea of (Japanese) relationships off of dramas. Lol. I thought she was asking Hajime if she and Gundham could swing with Chiaki and Hajime.

Hajime stop saying that. You comforted her about a Food yes you deserve to be closer friends.

AWWWW. OK THAT'S CUTE I LIKE THAT.

A little TOO fluently, like she's not really a foreigner! Duhn duhn duhn!

Fun fact: when I played this game (I've only played once so far) I thought that Sonia was gonna be revealed to be a phony. Like, her status as a princess was fake, like she was either posing as the princess because she looked enough like her to pass, or maybe her entire (fictional) country was made-up in-universe and she was able to make other people assume they'd just never heard of Novaselic before. That would have made more sense if the characters in Danganronpa were American and didn't know other countries (I'm American I'm allowed to make that joke).

Basically, I thought Sonia might be a non-murdery (or possibly murdery?) alt-version of Celeste. Not very original, I know. It wasn't a serious idea to me until later in the game when I felt like I should have known more about her at that point, but didn't (to be fair, I hadn't played her free times). I started suspecting she was the traitor in the second-to-last chapter up until I realized it was Chiaki. I felt guilty when I realized all her "There is no traitor! We're all friends!" talk was real and not just something she was saying to get everyone to stop trying to sniff her out. Sorry Sonia. Also sorry Kazuichi. I'm glad your former crush did not turn out to be a bad person, that would have been a huge unnecessary kick to the gut and Kaz has had enough. Sonia is a genuinely good person.

She explains that Makangos are embarrassing and implied to be sexual, so I'm wondering...

Makangos...are boners? xD

We'll never know if she's telling the truth here. It's not like she would say "Of course I'm going to overthrow the government, Hajime! Join me! Let's eat the rich!" (Her family included?)

Sonia, you are sus.

Aw, she kind of sounds like (my version of) Kazuichi's feelings about princesses. Though, even with the breaking of gender roles it's still more socially acceptable of Kazuichi to act out being a princess (in a play-pretend sense) than it would be of Sonia to act out being a Freemason.

And when she goes on... poor girl. Sonia has a lot of responsibility, and I think she thinks she has to justify her interests by tying them into her role as a princess, lest they get deemed "unnecessary" by her parents and she gets told to be more serious and focus on her role as a princess.

Sonia, you don't need to justify your weird or intense interests. You should be free to have a life outside of just royal duties. And she also wants to make sure her country isn't going to war or anything. She's heard enough about responsibility, let her go be a kid and have fun!

Ohhhhh a Makango is an animal.

Though it could still be slang for something when it's used in the context of "showing your lover your Makango" lol.

Harnessing an energy resource from these animals....I could see Kazuichi helping out with this one actually.

Good luck to Sonia and her noble goals! That's pretty cool that she has a plan in mind to change something about the status quo. Whoo!

Making a part two because this is pretty long

[jodjuya]

It's because those "systems of power and oppression" are highly situational outside of those having to do with wealth and often in the eye of the beholder.

"there's no such thing as forests! Trees are the only thing that actually exist!"

And "patriarchy" literally means "father-rule," so from that angle, it is unfairly blaming only men for something both men and women are responsible for.

"patriarchy" is specific jargon referring to specific clusters of related concepts. That 'dictionary definition' angle is a very dumb angle to pin your argument on. Worthless rhetoric. Maybe next time hit up Wikipedia instead of thesaurus dot com?

Shit, dude, I even literally said so myself in my own post that both men and women uphold patriarchy; that men aren't being exclusively blamed for it. Are you trying to use my own point as a gotcha against me??

Plus, what's wrong with being a libertarian (in the original sense of the term, not "conservative who smokes weed")? I honestly think collectivist thought causes a lot of trouble because it's pitting people against each other based on characteristics over which they have little or no control, and it's an easy out for people who don't want to take responsibility for their own actions.

Pretty dumb thing to think, but you do you. 🤷🏻‍♂️

As for the "MRA" thing, I want actual equality. God forbid that I think outside the feminist box and not mindlessly kowtow to women just because they're women.

Seem to be carrying a pretty big chip on your shoulder there, bud.

Again, you do you, but I ain't doing any mindless kowtowing, and I don't know why you would possibly think that's on the agenda here. Have you been picking fights with lesbian separatists or something? Very weird take, my guy.

And I AM one of "the queers."

Congratulations.

I do consider myself left-leaning, but I don't toe the party line on everything because I take each individual idea thrown at me into consideration.

The bold refreshing taste of centrist libertarianism, yum yum! You have definitely earned the privilege of buying yourself a cookie for being such a radical free-thinker!! 🍪

That said, you really don't seem to have much of a defense for your own ideas here past attacking me personally. I may be bitter and cynical from having progressive groups pull the rug out from under me time and time again, but at least I can go after your ideas and not you as a person.

WHAT ideas had you put forward lmao?? I'm supposed to type out an entire PhD dissertation of Men's Liberation apologetics to justify my beliefs to some random anonymous dingus trying to hijack my positivity posting by bitching about how "um actually, feminism is a bad thing didn't you know??"

Sulk about it all you like, but that doesn't stop your worthless clown opinions being the worthless opinions of a clown. Why should I bother wasting my time engaging sincerely with a sealion, when nothing you have put forward deserves any response more in-depth than "cool story bro 🤡"?

And, fuck, dude, you were the one to bring up feminism, not me. That chip on your shoulder is a deep one all right.

The message behind the flag is condescending and trivializes the issues of men, all while putting the blame on men for said issues.

No, it isn't, and no, it doesn't.

It's just a bunch of idealistic symbolism. It ain't that deep, bro.

The insistence of including "white privilege" in "lore" speaks to a very liberal, very Western understanding of the world that does not account for the experiences of men from non-white majority countries. It also reduces whiteness to a monolith, much like blackness is reduced to a monolith in Western discourse in general. White ethnic minorities do, in fact, exist and face actual, tangible repression. Sometimes, from non-white people, too. And Asian racism (e.g. Japanese racism towards the Chinese, Chinese racism towards the Vietnamese, ect.) is widely considered to be some of the worst around.

Wow! I had no idea that the anglophone author of this flag—who used American English to post his thoughts about anglophone symbolism on an American website—was thinking specifically about the problems caused by white-supremacy in western societies! What dazzling insight!!! Can't believe I literally never ever noticed that before!! 😱

Man, the fucking audacity of that fucking guy choosing to stay in his lane! What an asshole! Can you even believe that he didn't speak over Asian men to talk about the problems faced by men in Asian societies?!?!?

I defy you to explain how white privilege plays any part in the concentration camps run by CCP to eradicate the identity of the Uyghur people.

And I defy you to not be a fucking idiot, so I guess we're at an impasse. Oh no.

It's also not very aesthetically pleasing

Cry me a river lol

I want to know how you could think the choice to use hot pink to denote GBT men is appropriate, or the association of male homosexuality, bisexuality, and transness as gender non-conformity, especially considering historical adittudes towards them.

"The pink Mars symbol represents gender non-conformity and the redefining of what it means to be male IN CONTRAST WITH THE RESTRICTIVE TRADITIONAL MASCULINITY OF THE PAST, representing LGBTQ+ and gender-nonconforming men and masculine people. This symbol faces "backwards" because there is no wrong way to be a man."

OH BOY! I sure do love being on this website: double-you double-you double-you dot Reading dash Comprehension dot com! Truely a sublime experience!! ONLY the finest minds congregate here, yes sir!

Also, it wasn't my choice - I'm not the flag's author. All I did was copy and paste an old Reddit post because I thought it was cool. All you've done is clog up my notes with your whiny bleating about how girls have cooties, ew yuck, we better not listen to their ideas!

The whole damn thing is so tone-deaf. This is why no one likes the "Men's Lib" movement. You want to have it both ways by insisting that you are a movement that advocates for men, but what you really are is garden variety feminism, with a blue coat of paint.

🤡

This flag is a celebration of Men's Liberation and its core values of intersectionality, the subversion of norms, and a dismantling of the patriarchy.

The dark-colored Mars symbol represents intersectional masculinity. The oppression faced by members of marginalized communities, such as men of color and mentally ill men, is often compounded and exacerbated by their gender in unique ways, and this symbol represents the inclusion of these men and our community's goal of examining men's issues through an intersectional lens.

The pink Mars symbol represents gender non-conformity and the redefining of what it means to be male in contrast with the restrictive traditional masculinity of the past, representing LGBTQ+ and gender-nonconforming men and masculine people. This symbol faces "backwards" because there is no wrong way to be a man.

The white Mars symbol represents privilege and the active dismantlement of the patriarchy. Men, especially straight white men, are socialized into a position of power within an oppressive hegemony. This symbol faces downwards to represent how the power that comes with privilege must be consciously relinquished in order for prejudice to be unlearned and equality to be created.

The arrows from the three symbols all converge at one point to represent true strength coming from diversity, inclusion, and unity.

The periwinkle background represents hope for future generations. Blue is traditionally the color used in Western countries to denote that a new baby is male. It is our hope that we can ensure the baby boys and young men of the future are brought into a world that teaches them compassion and positive masculinity.

**********

Created by /u/sudo999 and refined by /u/erdijentila, this work is licensed under CC0 1.0 "No rights reserved" and you may use it for any purpose, commercial or non-commercial, with or without attribution.

https://www.reddit.com/r/MensLib/comments/cwar6i/i_have_a_thing_for_flags_after_seeing_a_couple/ey9gml6/

[1-800-c0sm1c]

꒰crossteaming !꒱

genshin characters as your streamer bf/gf !

character x gn!reader

includes albedo, childe, kaeya, xiao, and hu tao!

warnings : none.

a/n : these ended up being longer than i expected, so im splitting up the post a bit <3 hope you enjoy :D

ALBEDO - THE MINECRAFT YOUTUBER

albedo gives me wilbur soot vibes, minus the height.

if anyone in genshin were to join a minecraft smp just to reenact hamilton and be a jason dean kinnie, itd be albedo and im absolutely right about this.

teaches klee how to play too, his most popular stream was when they beat the ender dragon together :)

he also seems like the type to strictly use minecraft education edition, which is also totally valid because some of the recipes in there are literally so cool ???

pulls a dantdm and has his own minecraft lab and everything, doing all his silly little experiments!

“surcose, we need to sell drugs out of a van RIGHT NOW.”

when chat found out you and albedo were dating, there were two reactions.

one side was really happy for you both, the other was albedos parasocial fangirls who immediately put you on a hitlist.

seriously, if you had a dollar for everytime you were @ed in tweets about writing your name in a death note, youd have enough money to pay for every single persons therapy appointments.

youre always there to cheer him on when hes in mcc, his own little personal cheerleader :)

you show up at his office and just.. stand in front of the door, staring at him through the window. it sounds weird yes, but the shocked expression on his face is worth the wait for him to notice.

CHILDE - THE GRAND THEFT AUTO ONLINE ROLEPLAYER

“no chat i have not gone red. im just startled, thats all.”

childe is the type of fella to participate in the most wacky roleplays on gta online, and i am sticking by this headcannon.

hes done everything from a drug empire to owning his own country, nothing is off limits.

surprisingly hes a really good actor? when youre watching his streams you dont get the cringey second hand embarrassment, its just fun entertainment :D

it took his chat wayyy to long to realize how fine he is, although to be fair he did have mostly men watching him. (not like thats an excuse or anything.)

i feel hes definitely been nominated for a streamy before! whether or not you think he deserves to win is up to you though LMAO

“only a small percentage of my viewers are actually subscribed-”

childe leaked your relationship by accident once by having a tab open of your instagram while he was streaming.

when chat confronted him, he kind of just… ended stream. (real smooth.)

fans went to your instagram afterwards and saw pictures of you two together and started posting them to twitter, and childe ended up on trending because of it.

you felt indifferent to the whole thing, but childe was panicking. he didnt want to let his viewers into that part of his life just yet, but he was, scientifically speaking, caught lacking.

you dont appear on streams much, and childe still avoids allegations about your relationship entirely. its not that he doesnt want to show you off, he does! he just doesnt like having less differentiation between his online persona and his private life.

“whos instagram are you stalking…? thats gonna be all from me chat goodnight!”

KAEYA - THE VALORANT STREAMER

kaeya doesnt play valorant because hes good at it, but because its fun to mess with the fanbase.

you know THOSE vtubers who are.. weirdly sexual? kaeya is like that but he does it in a satirical way. 

likes messing with the homophobes too, but everyone still debates on what his sexuality is (kind of like jschlatt.)

definitely is problematic on twitter on purpose just to get people to talk about him, hes a little bit of an attention whore but we love him anyways <3

has never apologized for anything hes said or done EVER, and doesnt plan on it either.

“what do you mean i got canceled on twitter AGAIN? its only been 3 days!”

chat didnt believe him when he said he was in a relationship. so be dragged your ass into his room to show them.

it didnt work though, they thought you were a paid actor for the next 2 months LMAO

it got to a point where kaeya was doing literally anything on stream to convince chat, and finally you had enough.

you told him to take a break from streaming, he was way too obsessed with trying to prove something that doest matter to anybody but the two of you.

something finally clicked in his head, and after that you dont appear on camera as much anymore. for the most part people believe that you two are together, but hell still get donations joking around that they dont think youre a couple, simply because its funny.

“thank you for 200 bits! ….i am retracting my thank you.”

XIAO - THE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS PLAYER

i dont have any reason for this connection, other than it feels right.

if xiao werent a league player i would suggest smite, he just seems like hed be more into team games like that rather than overwatch or valorant.

just because hes my favorite doesnt mean im letting him off easily, league players get no rights <3 and xiao is no exception.

unironically listens to k/da as well, knows all the choreography but will literally never admit to it.

everyone in his chat has channel points stacked up to tell him to hydrate, he tends to forget when he gets really into the match.

“stream more by k/da for clear skin. no i will NOT be giving you a demo, i dont want a dmca.”

youre xiaos number one bully, and chat is always there to back you up.

when i played lol i was an ahri main, so stick with me here, its about to get real self indulgent.

youre a cosplayer, and one of your favorite ways to mess with your boyfriend is to dress up as his favorite characters. (peak s/o behavior right there.)

chat teased him heavily for his reaction, you could hear my chemical romance being blasted from the bedroom that night.

something about the cosplayer x gamer trope is just sooo <3

“you have no respect for league of legends players.” (duh - an ex league player)

HU TAO - THE DEAD BY DAYLIGHT PLAYER

when hu tao first heard about dbd i imagine she thought it would be an easy way to gain new clients, now she sticks around because its fun to terrorize people as killer, and be an absolute menace as survivor.

i think shed be a nurse main, but one of those that are insanely good at playing nurse. she wins the game in no time because her teleports are perfect. 

i can only imagine how many people have rage quit because of her.

along with dead by daylight, i see her just overall being a horror game player. lots of five nights at freddys, resident evil, etc.

shes never gotten scared on camera before, chat has tried but shes always one step ahead.

“i lied, i dont actually like sex. put your clothes back on i need to explain to you the entirety of the five nights at freddys timeline.”

hu taos favorite pastime is scaring you, she stays on top of the newest horror content specifically because of that. (oh, and its also kind of her brand. but she puts you first <3)

shed sacrifice herself in a heartbeat if youre playing dead by daylight together. she always says if at least you survive its good enough of a victory for her too.

she also has gone on record to say yall are playing the security breach dlc the day it drops. run while you still have the chance.

youve tried to convince her to tweet at shayne and ryan about being on an episode of ghost files but everytime she just suggests to play phasmophobia instead. like cmon girl those are two different things.

even thought shes trying to scare you on purpose, you know shes always got your back if something happens.

“ha look at your face! …okay okay im sorry! come here, youre fine, ive got you.”

[embers-archive]

OH I just saw your post about c!fundy!! Tbh I think fundy is one of the most tragic characters of the entire smp and that's fucking saying something with the likes of quackity and tubbo existing lmao.

But the reason fundy is so tragic to me is just, imagine having a father who truly loves you and keeps you right by your side during your childhood. Working and growing alongside him and a country filled with so much warmth and light that your fathers smile towards you makes you happier than anything in the entire world. But things start to change, he starts to look at you less and less and doesn't seem to care as much about you anymore, not like you remember. The painful thing is that you remember what your father's love felt like so you do absolutely everything to get it back, including going undercover in an extremely dangerous country to be his own spy.

But you're so starved for love and your father still won't look at and eventually! Your father figure is dead at your knees from a heart attack, your abandonment issues are being used against you, you watch as the last fragments of the country grew up in us destroyed beyond thought and you can only laugh at the wreckage. And at the end of everything, you're still alone and only your visions of a far kinder past and a terrifying future follows you. None of your friends, not your father, and no matter how hard you try to reach out you only get hurt, so- you isolate yourself.

THERE'S SOOOOOOO MUCH MORE BUT GOD LIKE. C!FUNDY DESERVES SO MUCH MORE AND SO MUCH APPRECIATION!!!! The fact that Wilbur didn't realize until the very end when fundy was already hurt and traumatized beyond belief and was willing to jump into the l'manburg hole... almost like he was sacrificing the part of himself that was born there and was once loved by his father :(((((

ANSHSBHEJEBDBRJBFBFHSJDHVSHDJDJDBHWI2UEY0EBZUQ8U3HDOWVSU EJFNDOEGEUDBJWIHEKR

HE DESERVED SO MUCH LOVE. HE DESERVED THE WORLD. and like !! He was promised the world!!! Over and over again by his dad who said that all the fighting and the death and the fear would be worth it for the nation he would build for fundy!! That one day that nation would be his!!! And then suddenly his dad stops caring about him as much? Buts that's okay cause like you said he'd do anything for that love. He'd go undercover for that nation (and oops maybe the abusive alcoholic turned out to be more of a dad to him than his dad... but betraying him will be worth it right?). And when they get back the nation he had been promised was his since birth? Who does wilbur give that to? Not him. But tommy. The kid he cared about more than his own son. And then it goes to tubbo. And suddenly he's looking up at a podium as his grandad- who he'd never met before- kills his dad infront of him. And... all his anger... is it still now justified? Still worth it when he sees his dads blood drip down the podium they both once stood upon together.

And he decides it is. And he keeps deciding it is and can you blame him? Imagine how small he must have felt in that moment.

[cdroloisms]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

[aerltarg]

“rhaegar defenders” is additionally sending me lmao

what does rhaegar have to do with the FACT that jon arryn was a deeply flawed man that contributed a lot to the current shitty state of westeros? with the FACT that he basically excused and rewarded child murder and ned (as well as the majority of other characters) never seemed to actually judge him for it? with the FACT that ned not realising jon arryn's negative traits and misdeeds is speaking of his bias and blindness towards those he grew up with, just like he failed to see what a piece of shit robert baratheon was?

just because ppl point out the fandom's own bias towards characters like ned, not taking into account that he is also an unreliable narrator in certain topics, should not be belittled to “hey you're just a X stan”. it was the op of the so called “positive post” who gave jon arryn credit for overthrowing targaryen dynasty as a whole as if it's something good actually. idk guys last time i checked grrm said this:

aerys was the problem, not targaryens in general. it wasn't the war for the greater good, it was “triggered by a personal grievance” aka the starks' murder by aerys. it was said before and it deserves to be said again: the nobles didn't give a single flying fuck about aerys's people burning tendencies, they started a real fight only when he brutalized ones of their own, including jon arryn's heir. and while not bowing to the madman on the throne by sending him the heads of your foster sons is objectively a good choice, the rest of jon arryn's actions are literally not (X)

also, as grrm stated in the video above,

“The Mad King was mad, he was paranoid and violent and he was abusing his power and Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law.”

there was no legal way to remove aerys from power despite his poor condition. and you would think that people who took away this power from him at the cost of war crimes are exactly the ones that are supposed to think like “hmm let's at least create new laws to prevent this catastrophe from happening in the future”. one big lmao to that tho, robert became another shitty king instead and jon arryn was next to useless as the hand. they didn't change the system, they didn't change shit as a matter of fact. the system that targaryens created was still in place, corruption didn't go away, it was as bad as during the reigns of the most shittiest targ kings actually (aegon the unworthy and robert baratheon parallels don't go anywhere as well). taxes, laws, small council? nothing got changed, the baratheon regime not only didn't improve anything, it basically used already established system that worked pretty fine for 300 hundred years after dragging dragons skulls to the basement. robert just spent all the gold there was and got into debt while jon arryn was watching. they ruled the country for 14 years and its current awful state is a consequence of their poor ruling.

so no, fuck “positive posts” that drag jon snow out of all ppl into this shit.

Make your own post instead of reblogging just to shit on someones positive post for fuck sake. Why are all you rhaegar defenders such debate lords on every single post you disagree with.

No. That's not gonna happen.

As for being a debate lord...not my fault you guys don't like canon facts.

[blurrycow]

HI DISCLAIMER. THIS POST IS THE ENTIRE PLOT OF MY ORIGINAL STORY. IF YOU STEAL ANY PARTS OF IT I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE A SWORD OUT OF THE FORGED REMAINS OF YOUR BONES.

anyway hi! i wanted to post scenes from my original story but you guys dont have context, so i wrote down the entire plot last night. Here it is, four pages of fuckery!

Prologue explores senator Tritny Silver. We get a glimpse into her past and how she became senator. We meet the other senators. We see her make the law, although it is not clear what the law is yet to the reader. 

We cut to ash. Ash is a poor but blissfully happy ten year old child living in a gross trailer park, kind of like adam parrish. Ash gets home from hanging out with his friend and his parents tell him about the law, which we find out in all its horror- families must ship out one child to work in the country’s army. In ash’s case this is tonetra, the country run by surprise surprise- tritny silver

So ash leaves and is reasonably distressed. 

And then we cut to xander

Except xander has already been shipped out and he’s on the train to rankolay

(rankolay has been famously attacking tonetra in bombing and attacks)

There is a girl on the train with him. Her name is Anthea Jackson and she helps Xander escape by jumping off the train into Grifixth. Xander is Okay (I promise). He finds a homeless shelter and stays there for as long as possible. 

and then we cut to anthea because of course she is important and appears again

Anthea is just chillin in the train, resigned to her fate when Cricket comes onto the train and talks to her. He recruits her for the Underground Society, which is a group run by Prentiss Amtrite (former Representative (like the leader under the Senator) of Rankolay with Mikael Feliks) focused on taking out the senators

nEW POV we meet Diana, who works with the Rankoliks. Her mom and dad are trusted workers there, and Diana learns of her mother’s plans to launch a bomb onto Grifixth. Of course Diana is Not Cool with this and decides to stop her mother from releasing the bomb

On her way to stop her mom and destroy the bomb she runs into Kaylah, who is trying to sneak in to dismantle the bomb aLSO because she was eavsdropping and wanted to stop it

(they are both sapphics but im bad at writing that stuff so it is not directly stated) 

They don’t end up dismantaling the bomb (remember, it is going to decimate Grifixth! And that is where Xander is!)

Cut back to Ash, because he is great and also aroace

He is sixteen now! time skip who lmao

He is best friends with a guy in the tonetran army with him, who is called Finley. Finley is a sweet bean who deserves the world, and Ash is also a sweet bean who deserves the world. They are a pot of smushed mashed refried beans that deserve the world. They should hold it together I think

Their general who is named Soleil tells them to go investigate what Rankolay is up to because ever since the Bombing Of Grifixth a few years ago, they have had muted activity and basically are being very sus. Sussy bakas. Anyway sol is like ‘go investigate, because you guys are stupid and expendable’ so ash and finley go, and,,, yeah they get captured. No surprises there. The rankoliks experiment on them to see what superhuman powers they will get so they can inject it into tHEIR armies for the war vs tonetra that is Soon To Come. 

Finley is shot trying to escape, (spoiler alert he dies) and Ash manages to escape, after the scientists who captured them injected the weird stuff in his veins. Originally I had him get powers after this but now I’ve just decided it heightens all his senses to an insane degree

Ash escapes!

Cut back in time to Kaylah and Diana, who meet Xander where all the prisoners are (because YEAH HE GOT CAPTURED TOO. ALL THESE GUYS ARE DUMB WHAT THE SHIT) (but seriously it was because after the bombing rankolay looked for survivors and they found him) 

(Diana and Kaylah free him :D) 

The trio rescues a bunch of other Rankolik prisoners (including but not limited to: Oliver, Alister, Prism, Lia, and others if i remember) 

One of the prisoners (monalee sampson who spoiler alert is general soleil’s sister) has a house that belonged to her late aunt that is still intact in the part of grifixth that wasn’t completely destroyed by the bomb. They go there for refuge. Mona’s aunt called it the Mission, so that is what it is referred to throughout the book. 

Cut back to Anthea, who is meeting Prentiss. Prentiss is basically like ‘are you good’ and anthea says yes and so now they work together to assassin people yay

Cut back to the present AKA the timeline with Ash and by now it is far enough in the future that the Mission is an established organization. Ash sees a poster for it and decides to go there to hide. It is good because it seems like Mona’s adopting a new kid every minute. Shes only 23 good god she cant handle these 29 adolescents 

Xander opens the door and is a little bitch to Ash but Ash is not dettered! He instead is depressed and insistent because Xander for fucks sake his best friend in the world just got shot to death by the enemy let him in good lord

EVERYONE IN THE MISSION (besides kaylah and diana) has heightened senses from the rankoliks, some at a worrying degree

Mona does let him stay because she’s much nicer than I will ever be and because she has more time than i ever will

(Xander is fifteen here)

Heres the deal on the key players in the mission:

Kaylah: nice. She’s very very nice. Compassionate. A bit of a doormat person. Doglike personality.

Diana: Cynical but overall pretty chill. Likes computers, and also sleep. Does not give a fuck about 80% of her adopted siblings. Kind of like tori from heartstopper but older ig 

Alister: sweetest guy alive. Always asking how he can help. Very smart and the peacemaker of the house. Best friends with Prism, for some reason. 

Prism: largest asshole to walk the earth. Lost her brother to the rankoliks and they werent able to free him in time when they escaped. She thinks this makes her entitled to be a dick. It does not. She is Mean

Mona: runs the place! Empath and also a little bit overwhelmed 24/7, which is reasonable. She should hire a babysitter tbh. Always rushing all over the place. 

Anyway 

Ash meets the fam and basically is very tired and wants to be left alone which is fair because his best friend just died and hes overwhelmed as fuck

Cut to xander! Timelines have now aligned and there will be no more time jumping

He tells mona about how the Underground Society contacted him today to ask about pairing up to murder Senator Mikael Feliks (because hes an asshole and a shit leader) (remember what I said about the Mission being sort of influential now?) 

Mona rejects them because even though feliks is a bad leader, his Representative is even worse and she doesnt want him to take over office

Anyway prentiss demands an audience anyway so monas like FINE and Xander goes with her to meet with the underground society including Anthea and Cricket. Anthea is like OMG ITS YOU TRAIN BOY and Xander doesnt recognize her because its been like four-ish years, christ, but she still knows who he is. Anyway they do resolve not to kill Feliks (with much convincing) 

We have a couple depressing Ash flashbacks for filler (and to get more of a feeling of who Finley was when he was alive. So we can be sadder that he died.) 

While mona and Xander are meeting with the US prism is negotiating with the rankoliks to get her brother back

(she told them that if she gave them the mission’s location, they would give her her brother)

Anyway xander and mona get back and the whole place blows up (thanks prism!) 

Mona dies. She is the only casualty and the only mother some of them have ever known. Kaylah is taken! Prism also does not get her brother back, because the rankoliks were lying all along. 

Xander is Pissed and shoves Prism off a cliff

(she’s saved by Alister!) (no she doesn't die. Yes she's still an asshole but now she feels Shame) (good) 

They go to save Kaylah, all 29-ish of them. They resolve that the only way to save the world from the Labs forever is to blow them all up. Diana goes on a killing spree and murders all the guards. Alister helps her. Then Diana goes to rescue Kaylah 

She sees her mom as she’s going back. (atm Xander is hooking up the dynamite)

Her mom tries to convince her to come back home. Diana says no and drops the match. 

She, her mom, and the Labs all go up in an explosion. 

(she dies.)

Epilogue. dinner time at the mission. Everyone minus diana and mona are at the table.

The end :)