#despite how long this is compared to my previous fics i do feel like the plot is kind of rushed...

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

Currently at 3,700 words. I feel kind of proud of myself for writing so much within a few days but I’m a little embarrassed that I’m so passionate about the subject matter lol

[vettelsvee]

Hey, how's it going?I have been thinking, for me, Seb gives off a GREAT vibe of a big family guy, who has a big family with the person he loves, my opinion of course. Could you write something like this?

E a propósito, adoro tudo o que você escreve!!

ROADTRIP TO MONACO | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 2894

summary: seb and a pregnant y/n go and have a trip to monaco with their three little ones after seb's retirement

warnings: none, just mentions of pregnancy sickness as y/n is on her first term of her pregnancy! fluff, lots of fluff, and dad!seb

a/n: i love that seb. i actually love seb and oscar so much that the only thing i want to do is write about them. i'll be waiting your feedback, comments and requests please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated (also, so close to 1k! tysm to you all because i most of the times feel surreal with all of this and how much you seem to enjoy my fics). also, anon: hope you like this!

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The soft melody of an alarm broke through the darkness of the bedroom Sebastian and you shared around one-thirty in the morning, interrupting the couple's deep sleep. Sebastian, still startled by the noise, managed to quickly stretch his arm to turn off the alarm in an attempt to fully wake up. Meanwhile, you rubbed your eyes, fighting against the tiredness.

"Is it already time to get up, sunshine?" you asked sleepily.

"Yes, darling, it's time," Seb nodded as he sat up in bed. "If we want to get to Monaco on time and avoid Charles from killing us. We should leave in about an hour and a half."

You yawned, curling up under the blankets.

"But it's too early, love… Don't you think we could, and should, sleep a little longer?"

Sebastian approached you and gently stroked your hair. He was aware that the fourth pregnancy was being a bit challenging for you compared to the previous three, despite being only in the second month.

If fatigue, nausea and dizziness were making life difficult for you at the moment, he didn't want to imagine how you would feel four months from now.

"Y/N, sweetheart, don't worry. Let me be in charge of waking up the kids and getting everything ready. You stay here and rest a little longer, okay? I promise I'll let you know when everything is ready so you only have to get in the car."

You looked at him with a tired but grateful expression. Still, you knew you had to help prepare the final details of the trip, and most importantly, make sure the kids were perfectly ready..

"Are you sure? I don't want you to take on all the work, really," you expressed with concern in your voice. "Even though I'm tired, I can help you..."

"I'm absolutely sure, darling," the man interrupted, smiling and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead. "These are the kinds of things I retired for, so focus on going back to sleep, alright? I'll see you in a bit, liebe."

"Sebastian…" you spoke again. "I'm really serious: we're in this together, and I don't want you to handle everything alone. It's a family trip, not a trip of Seb with his three kids. I want to help."

He admired your determination, but he wanted you to be treated as you deserved.

"I know, Y/N," he explained, "but I also know how tired you are. Really, allow yourself not to worry about your kids for once. I promise I'll wake you up soon enough so you can get ready."

You nodded, trying to avoid continuing the conversation and settling back into bed, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without thinking about how long your husband might take to prepare your kids.

Meanwhile, Sebastian left the room with determination and headed towards the children's rooms. Emily, Charlotte and Matilda slept all in different rooms, so he went from door to door, opening them gently and affectionately, and then approaching each bed.

He first woke up Charlotte, the middle one, who rubbed her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you have a nightmare and want to sleep with me? Or is mom having the baby?"

"No, no," Sebastian chuckled at his seven-year-old daughter's antics. "It's time to wake up. Remember we're going to Monaco today."

The little girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Yes, that's right! We're going to your old workplace!"

After letting her fully wake up, the head of the family went to the room of the youngest, Matilda, who was four years old.

"Matilda, wake up, honey," whispered Vettel, giving her a gentle tap on her shoulder. "We have an exciting day ahead. We're going to see those fast cars daddy used to drive."

The youngest Vettel lazily stretched in his small bed and yawned. Sebastian then smiled, picking her up while she just wanted to hug Seb. 

"That's what I like to see, little one," he commented, tousling her hair. "Let me dress you so mom doesn't have to worry too much, okay?"

Both the children and Sebastian hurried to get ready. There was no doubt that, despite the sleepiness, the family was full of energy and excitement for what awaited them in the country about seven hours from their residence.

After also waking up Emily, your eldest, and making sure all of them were ready, Seb put cartoons on the living room TV to keep the children entertained and returned to his room, where you were still resting, seemingly peacefully asleep.

"Honey, the kids are ready. They're waiting for us in the living room. Are you feeling better?" he whispered as softly as he could, gently stroking your arm.

You opened her eyes and sat up in bed, stretching aggressively. “Thank you so much for getting our little devils ready, I owe you one."

He tenderly kissed you on the lips.

"You don't owe me anything, you did enough effort to bring them into the world and act as both father and mother when I wasn't around. Let me help you get ready, we have a great day ahead."

Quickly, Seb helped you change you clothes, gently touching your small but already slightly prominent pregnant belly. Once you were finally dressed in sportswear for comfort, you both walked hand in hand out of the room and headed to the living room, where your children were already waiting impatiently.

After making sure everything was ready and the kids had no further needs, you all headed to the garage, quickly getting into the family car. While Sebastian made sure the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk, you took care of buckling the children up and offering them a few games or movies to keep them entertained on the way, although you were quite aware they would end up asleep.

"Are you all ready?" you inquired, turning around from the passenger seat and looking at her children with a smile as Seb began to start the car.

"Yes, mommy, let's go!" exclaimed little Matilda, who received cheers from her sisters.

With the car's engine purring softly, they set off on the Swiss roads amidst the darkness of the night, which, despite being synonymous with tiredness, brought a surge of energy to the youngest members of the family, where conversations and plans for Monaco came to the forefront.

"Do you think grandpa Norbert is going to come, Dad? I heard you talking to him the other day," exclaimed Charlotte, once again showing her admiration for Sebastian's sister. "Is grandma Heike coming too?"

"I want to hear the loud noises of the cars and see how fast they go," Emily added immediately, excited.

Sebastian smiled as he drove, very happy to hear the excitement of his children and, especially, to be sharing such an experience with you all not only after his retirement.

As the hours went by, tiredness arrived, and the children fell asleep. Quite the opposite happened with you: you woke up when you no longer heard the sudden conversations between the siblings. As you progressed along the winding roads and approached Monegasque territory, the sky began to lighten, giving them a beautiful sunrise.

"Look, honey, the sun is rising," you commented to Seb, pointing to the horizon stained with warm colors. "I can't believe we're finally arriving in Monaco after weeks of waiting..."

After a couple more hours of driving, and lively conversation among the family resulting from a brief stop for breakfast and in your case, vomiting a couple of times, you arrived in Monaco. The city looked completely different from any other time of the year as the streets were adorned with flags and banners for the Grand Prix. Furthermore, the grandstands, the paddock, and the countless yachts docked in the harbor made Monte Carlo seem even richer than it already was.

"We're here, guys," Sebastian announced to his children sweetly. "If you need something, just make sure to tell me, alright?”

Seb parked the Mercedes in a parking lot reserved for VIP guests, and then got out of the car to help you. He made then a phone call, possibly to Leclerc, your kids began to stroke your belly. You reacted early and quickly moved them away, aware that journalists and paparazzi could discover the secret.

"Let's follow dad, guys," you whispered to them, getting down to their level. "And remember: no one, not Uncle Charles or anyone who asks you, can know that dad and I have made a little baby, okay?"

The children nodded in response to your question, which somewhat reassured you were still nervous. However, the excitement began to set in as you walked alongside your kids, following Seb towards the place where the free practice sessions would take place, partially pushing aside your worries. The sound of the engines grew louder with each step you took, with the youngest of the family covering her ears with his little hands.

"Look, mommy: there's the Ferrari team!" exclaimed Emily pointing towards the red team's garage.

Charles appeared in his racing suit, as Free Practice was set to begin in just thirty minutes.

As soon as he spotted your husband, who was slightly ahead of all of you, he raised his arms in the air with great joy at seeing him again on the circuits, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Charles!" exclaimed Seb when he finally reached the Monegasque, giving him a strong hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. The kids are very excited to be here, and especially to see you."

Leclerc returned the hug to the German, reminiscing about the two years they were teammates.

"You don't have to thank me, Seb," replied the Ferrari driver. "I'm sure Emily and Charlie remember something, but I know it's all new for Matilda. Anyway, I'm sure they'll enjoy it like the first time, just like Y/N!"

As the conversation continued between the two men, you and the kids surrounded the Ferrari driver, who felt a bit shy seeing the children's excited faces.

"Thank you, Charles," you expressed with your little ones embracing you somewhat shyly. "We're very grateful that you made it possible for us to come," you leaned closer to the Monegasque and whispered: "and don't tell anyone, but despite Ferrari's shitty strategies, you're doing great."

After a few minutes of conversation catching up on your respective live, and where Seb almost revealed you were expecting your fourth child, Charlotte, Emily and Matilda crowded around Charles, excited to see their father's former teammate again. Despite the constant denials from the team engineers, he managed to let your kids have a close look at his car.

"Look," said Charles, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle, "this is the car I'll be practicing with today, and that's my teammate's, Carlos," he pointed to the car beside it. "What do you think?"

The children's eyes widened with passion as they began to examine the car closely.

"Can we touch it, Uncle Charles?" asked the four-year-old, grabbing Leclerc's race suit pants.

Charles smiled, nodding enthusiastically, inwardly melting at the scene he was witnessing. He wished he could see himself like that with Olivia in a few years.

"Of course, but do it quickly so you father doesn’t get fined again," he said jokingly.

While the kids explored the car, and after you joined them shortly after, Charles and Seb began to converse animatedly yet seriously about the expectations for the Grand Prix and the sensations he had so far in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

The sudden hustle in the Ferrari garage made it clear that Free Practice 1 was about to begin. Sebastian and Charles had their conversation interrupted when Leclerc's beloved engineer insisted he get into the car as soon as possible. It was finally time for you to head to the corresponding grandstand to enjoy the practice session.

The Monegasque was forced, much to his regret, to interrupt his conversation with the your husband. Seb, however, understood, and immediately turned to you all, who were eagerly waiting to go to the best spot to watch the cars go around.

"Come with me, kids," notedhim, "it's time to go up to the VIP grandstand to get a better view of the session."

Taking Matilda in his arms, holding his daughters' hands with his free hand, and with you on his left, you all formed a little chain to avoid getting lost in the commotion on you way to the designated spot.

You were moved by the scene you were witnessing. Holding onto Seb's free arm, you tried to control your tears as your followed your husband's lead.

Minutes later, you had found your reserved seats, but numerous fans who had recognized Seb had delayed him. You were used to this, as were your kids. Moreover, none of your minded as they were aware that Seb had done great things for and in the world of motorsport.

“Look dad!”, exclaimed Emily excitedly as her father sat down next to her, “That's Charles! He's going really fast!”

"Yes, he's going fast indeed, Emily," Seb answered, still in shock at what he was witnessing after many time.

As the practice hour progressed, you captured some moments of the family with your camera, all of them fully caught up in the energy emanating from the circuit at that moment. The applause and words of encouragement, though impossible to hear for the drivers, were felt as the local hero made his appearance on the track.

When it came to an end, faster than they thought, you all made your way back to the Ferrari garage, where Charles had promised to meet his former teammate after the session.

Once there, you saw the blue-eyed with his girlfriend, Alexandra, engaged in lively conversation, likely about what had happened on the track during the previous hour. Charles, upon seeing Sebastian with you at the garage door, hurried over as fast as he could.

"Seb, I thought you'd be gone!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't get to see you: you know, speed problems," he laughed at his own bad joke, "but I'm sure you had a good time, and your amazing wife and kids did too, right?"

Matilda and Charlotte shouted in unison. You and Emily nodded quickly.

"I'm really impressed, Charles," Vettel said enthusiastically. "Apart from the track being in wonderful condition, the weather cooperating, and not having too many idiots running around today, your performance has been incredible."

Alex joined the conversation, greeting your and the kids first, and then Seb.

"It's been wonderful seeing you in the stands. I wish I didn't have to stay locked up in the garage all day, but there are these crazy Charles fangirls out there..." she joked.

You laughed at the comment. If she only knew all that you had to go through in the early years of your relationship with Seb…

"Anyways…" Leclerc began, placing his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "Alex and I have been talking these past few days and we'd like to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight. It would be nice for us to spend some time together, just relaxing, and celebrate that you've finally come back around here," he explained, looking directly at your husband.

"But really, if it's any inconvenience for you," she hurried to add, "or if you need to head back home or..."

Sebastian looked at you, who nodded excitedly at the proposal.

"It would be an honor, Charles."

After exchanging details for the dinner, they bid farewell momentarily due to Leclerc's press commitments. During that time, you returned to the hotel where you would stay for a couple of days to freshen up and prepare for dinner, as managing three children wasn't an easy or simple task.

When you met again, this time at the restaurant, you were warmly welcomed by its members. Dinner unfolded amid laughter and lively conversations, mostly revolving around Formula 1 anecdotes and your private lives.

As the night progressed, Seb and Charles delved into deeper topics about the world that absorbed so much of their lives. Alex and you, on the other hand, got to know each other more and realized they had more in common than you initially thought.

The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives: Charlie, Emily, and Matilda, who fell asleep early, spent the night playing games with the young couple, who still seemed like kids in your eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed the day, guys," Charles said, raising his glass of wine. "I hope we can enjoy many more moments together, especially when the little one comes because, Y/N, I know there’s a reason why you’re not drinking alcohol when you like wine so much."

"Cheers!" you all exclaimed while you tried not to get nervous and more shy than you actually were, laughing at the revealed secret. 

As you continued to enjoy the delicious food, along with the laughter and entertaining stories, you knew that trip to Monaco would become a cherished memory in the years to come. There was no doubt you should definitely do this more often and, above all, around the world if given the chance, something you had been waiting for years.

[harmonysanreads]

Hiiiii! I saw your reblog on my Yandere Phainon and reading the tags brought smile to my face, thank you and I’m happy my work hit the spot 💖

I just wanted to say, the idea of Phainon like this is just sooo… 😩 I feel like Phainon himself is not aware he’s that manipulative or cruel towards reader, that it’s more of an involuntary thing (though he’s not an idiot either and knows how to coerce reader into his request.) I had this idea he’d be so obsessed with reader he’d romanticise everything about them without realising that there’s more complexity to reader’s problems, and with that, the fact that his words of supposed acceptance and forced-facing-their insecurities would be painful and not uplifting…

As you say, some people would have taken his words as compliment since they’re more subtle, but someone as insecure as reader would always be sensitive to any word and end up having their spirit crushed just like Phainon has crushed theirs with treating their insecurities as something only acceptable, but not desirable…allegedly not on purpose.

I just cannot stop feeling like Phainon is such a creep-feeling character to me in the game, that yeah, he’s nice and chivalrous, but it’s as if he’s one stop away from losing it all and that he’d be love bombing type until you no longer want to be separated from him, so I had to write him this way. I don’t know the kevin lore but Phainon really feels psychotic to me, felt that way during the quest, as if he lost a big part of himself.

I’m glad this interpretation of him was well received! I’m really curious how is it you perceive him yourself, even just as a character in the game and off fanfic.

The fic mentioned is this one. Do check it out!

That's... interesting. I agree with everything you've said but the Phainon giving you the creeps part really surprised me. So, that made me wonder whether knowing Kevin's lore from HI3 really does make a difference or not because, I've never gotten that particular vibe from Phainon. There's a bit of a distinction here which I'll clarify shortly.

Phainon's turbulent inner world is something that we all can agree on by now, especially since both Aglaea and Tribbie have talked about his preference for shouldering way-more-than-he-should very clearly. I've also mentioned the matter of identity crises in particular in a previous post back when 3.0 was still fresh. In 3.1's story, he honestly gave very ‘smiling through the pain’ vibes throughout. So, I completely agree with the ‘one step away from losing it all’ and I keep it in mind myself for when I write for him.

Phainon has lost pretty much everything. Even though he gained a new identity after becoming a Chrysos Heir, it'd never compare to his peaceful life in Aedes Elysiae. And even then, he's slowly having to let go of his companions to the prophecy, he's becoming alone all over again. At the same time, he can't bring himself to burden others with his problem, isn't that the least he should be capable of as a ‘perfect vessel for divinity’? But deep down, maybe, he yearns for someone to understand without him having to speak up, without him having to convey.

To talk about Kevin without spoiling the story, I'll need to quote Welt from back during the Penacony arc — that man was never a failure. Even if the decisions he makes are questionable and shady, at his core his sense of duty is pure. Perhaps that is why, despite noticing all of these things about Phainon, I have trust in him. He's so familiar, in a way. Amphoreus's story is long and Phainon will no doubt go through many unpleasant things, but I have faith that his intentions will not stray. He is and will be a true hero. Which is why, even if I write for him in certain ways, I'll personally never see him as anything truly sinister.

I've read another one of your works for him and there I noticed a reflection of this observation of yours as well. I'm by no means criticizing or discouraging it by the way! Your interpretation is what makes your writing for him unique! I just find the distinction that's appeared as a result very interesting.

[aureliestarlight]

🏴‍☠️ ༉‧₊˚. catching treasures and feelings .ᐟ pirate leo v. multi-fic.

p.s : ahoy mateyes!’ sorry it took me so long to make the next chapter, i’ve just finished school and i’ve been working alot — alas, here it is! happy reading dearest pirates 🌟

p.p.s : after i published this i realized how much longer this chapter is compared to my previous ones WELL!! have fun i think? it might be because i’m reading again and have more inspo for longer writing hehe..

chapter three,

✧˚ (name) felt like she was frozen to her spot, despite the sea salt tasting splashes against her lips as argo ll began to dock. she felt a warm, shaky hand on her shoulder — as she turned her head she came to lock eyes with her first mate.

“theo! what in ocean’s name?” startled, she took theo’s hand in hers, averting her utmost attention to him from the curly-haired captain. “we have to leave,” theo said in a very shaky breath. (name) knitted her brows until they were almost merged together, “wh-what? where are the others?” she asked, concerned painted across her face.

“already getting stella-wren ready,” theo responded, gripping (name)’s hand like if he were to let go she would fly away. and they raced towards stella-wren in the pier completely on the other side of town.

there were shadows that carved it’s way into the stone paving under (name)’s feet. aeolus. she breathed in almost a whisper as she looked above her, “what’s the wind god doing here?!” (name) cried with a panic in her voice.

“demi-god central, princess! leo did not help by coming along,” theo yelled, glancing his head back to double check that the princess was still behind him. she gasped, leo! she had to warn him.

“i’ll catch up, theo! i have to go warn the crew of argo ll!” she cried — stopping and immediately turning her heel to race towards argo ll, which didn’t seem far enough, despite theo’s desperate cries for her to come back.

she’d be fine. she thought about the dagger in her boot, and if all else fails, she can always negotiate and bargain her way out of it, like she always has. she slid under an semi-arched bridge to escape from aeolus’ wind spirits, trying to catch her with the tips of their fingers to the tips of her hair.

breathing heavily as she caught her breath, she stopped just infront of argo ll. it was a giant ship, and leo and his crew haven’t stepped foot out of it yet, probably double checking the anchor — she looked around, grabbing a rope from a vendor who had grown a hissy fit about it,

(name) yelling that she would only borrow it, as she tied a knot and slinged it over one of the broken railings of the ship, as soon as she confirmed that it was secure with two or three tugs she didn’t climb. she swinged.

she back away from the dock, and she ran towards the edge of it, swinging till the very last second, just before she would jump into the water, and she turned to land on the ship’s wooden, probably wet deck. landing just on her boots with a thud, she flipped her hair out of her face, spiting out the sand that got in her hair.

✧˚ leo stopped. his whole crew stopped. after the captain heard a thud, thinking it was a spy bandit there to take their bounty, they all turned in the direction of the visitor, with each their own weapons.

leo had his fire spawned in his hands, but slowly extinguished as he came face-to-face with the princess from his dream. literally. “princess?” he felt like his voice echoed. he saw her gulp, her chest frantically going up and down, and the question of how did she get up here? repeated in his head like a broken record.

“get the princess some water, and a towel for the sweat on her head.” leo ordered, piper and hazel grabbing the same items he called for under the deck. the captain walked towards her, taking her gently to a barrel she could sit on. “thank you,” she had managed to breathe out.

leo gave out a light boy-ish laugh. “is there a reason you tarzan’d your way into my ship, ms. wrella?” there. there was a deep tint of pink painted on her face. “how did you—“ she stopped herself before giving anymore more of herself out.

“water!” hazel cried, the awe in her face at the sight of the princess was evident as she carefully handed the captain of stella-wren the ice cold drink. “thank you,” (name) repeated once more, taking the glass and pressing it to her lips.

“in trouble — all of us, in trouble.” (name) spoke just before the north wind spirit of aeolus, mixed the clouds in the sky like a giant bowl of soup into a terrifying storm. it started so fast. so quickly, but leo’s crew worked faster. “jason get to the mast! hazel i need you to steer,” leo continued to throw orders like a natural. like he’d been doing this for forever.

(name) couldn’t hide her impressed smile, in spite of the storm that could kill them in seconds brewing behind her. “you, hermosa, you got any experience adjusting the trims?” leo turned towards (name). and again, in spite of them almost in death’s hands, leo never looked more alive.

she felt the warmth rise to her face, seeing leo. she’d always call herself the captain of stella-wren, because she had claimed the ship first, but when it came to leo, it occured to her that he was a true captain.

facing death, and being able to command so naturally, while looking so happy to do so. he looked like he was meant to be out here for situations exactly like this, for the thrill of adventure, and it was inked along the very creases of his face everytime he smiles. (name) was astonished at the very mere sight of it.

“yes,” she croaked out meekly. leo let another slip of his boy-ish chuckle out at her response and she helped her get on her feet.

she began to worry as she ran towards the sails beside jason and nico, if her crew were alright. if theo didn’t get snatched up by wind spirits, gaining all the strength to pull her body down to adjust the trim as leo said.

✧˚ (name) stared at the vast sea, afraid that she may never get to stella-wren, but even more frightened about the idea that they may have never left the dock in hopes to wait for her.

argo ll had managed to escape the grasp of the north wind spirit effortlessly, especially with the extra hand from (name). the rest of the crew went below deck to rest up, nico later ran to check the engine in leo’s place — who wanted to check up on the pirate princess.

“hey,” he casually greeted, climbing the stairs up to the highest deck where she stood. (name) glanced behind her at the familiar voice, “hi,” was all she responded with a faint smile. “we’ll get you back to stella-wren, i promise.” he added, almost reading her mind.

she felt a wave of relief wash over her. “thanks, captain.” she nodded. leo felt better that he was able to give her just a bit of reassurance as she sighed, looking ahead of her. “tell me if i’m delusional or not,” she chuckled.

leo nodded, asking her to continue as he leaned his arms against the railing with her. “i’d be happy to,” he teased with a cheeky grin that made (name)’s stomach swarm. “but.. you’ve dreamt of me, i mean — to be more specific, we dreamed together? in an empty ocean in seperate smaller rowboats?” she asked.

leo grew quiet. surprise stunning him, “no, no, it wasn’t just you who dreamt that, hermosa.”

next chapter ↳ chapter four,

[pocketmania]

Hiya !! I'm the previous anon !!!! From the jelly jax !! Hvbhbbbh ,, even though it wasn't what I meant I loved it it was very cute !!! <3

If you wanted to write one with my original idea for a jealous !-jax x oblivious partner in crime reader ! ,, I would totally love that !!!! But I completely understand if not ♡ ,, also is it ok if i'm 🧃 Anon?? <33

[A/N] Hi 🧃 anon! I'm so sorry i didn't pick up what you were telling me! (I'm probably actually maybe gonna go ahead and delete that one since it feels very rushed to me and I don't like it all that much lmao 😭)

Again I'm so sorry!! I'm very slow when it comes to slang, believe it or not. I've done this before with the word "eating". My friend said, "omg I'm eating in this outfit," and I was like, "Is that a bad thing? what's wrong with eating in that outfit?"

Everyone pretend that that last tadc fic doesn't exist i never even wrote it whaaaat are youuuu talking aboouuut there is nooooo such thing as a jelly!jax x reader by pocketmania whaaat

AND‼️ IM VERY SORRY FOR SUCH A LONG WAIT‼️

Now onto the (real) thingy

# Jealous!Jax Relationship Headcanons

(🎪🎉👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨💭) - amazing digital circus headcanons + scenario

(reader type) - gender neutral; oblivious and chaotic

(‼️warnings) - cartoon violence

(quick summary) - headcanons about Jax dating the Reader and being jealous of their divided attention.

♨ Jax, even if he would never admit it, is quite the jealous person

♨ constantly watching who you talk to from afar, clinging to you when you divide your attention, that sort of thing

♨ you are completely oblivious to how jealous and possessive jax is for you despite everyone who is in their right mind telling you lmao

♨ it will be painfully obvious and you will still remain none the wiser

♨ The jealousy (which you believe is him being loyal) + his charisma + his teasing is what had you head over heels

♨ Jax truly appreciates it when you partake in his chaos. Like he will become 10× happier if you were to, say, help him break Gangle's happy mask for the umpteenth time

♨ Zooble is highly aware of how jealous Jax is and purposefully takes your attention away from him to make him upset

♨ Apart from pranking people all the time, you're quite nice! Everyone appreciates how sweet you are compared to your partner in crime

♨ violence. violence everywhere.

♨ sometimes Jax will butt into a conversation you're having with someone else

❝ Oh, (Y/N)! Hi, good to see you! How did you sl— ❞

❝ (N/N), let's go and shoot something beyond recognition. ❞

♨ he often goes to your room just to check in and cuddle with you and everything of the sorts

♨ Knows everything about you. Your past life, your hobbies, who you like to talk to, what you do when you're bored. Everything.

♨ Jax tries to act like he isn't jealous, which only works on you. everyone else occasionally makes jabs at him about it haha

♨ Hey, he's got feelings under all of... that

♨ just last the last sets of Jax headcanons, you both are literal war criminals. many of your jokes and pranks have not only pissed off a lotta people but also killed many npcs

♨ i have a hunch that jax doesn't really consider the feelings of anyone else besides you... and that's kind of a stretch

♨ you honestly find how loyal he is to you charming. it feels good to be cared about in a place like this

♨ when I said he often goes to your room, I mean it! when he's not by your side on adventures, he's in your room bullying you and other things he's likely to do to you

♨ ... Like inquire about your relationships with others

♨ lemme set the scene...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Come in!" You called, sitting up on your bed.

Jax poked his head into your room, entering and shutting the door behind him. He waltzed over to your bed and loomed over you, smiling as smugly as he usually did. You opened your arms and invited him to cuddle with you. He flopped down on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him.

"Were you just rotting in here or somethin'?" He asked, adjusting himself so his head now lay on your chest. You smiled. "I was just bored."

Jax rolled his eyes and smirked at you. "Well, thankfully, I came in to save you. Aren't you grateful?" He joked. You ruffled the fur on his head and lay down in silence. It was a long moment of silence, but a comfortable one at that.

... At least for you.

"Hey," Jax started, sitting up a bit and looking at you. You looked down at him and raised your eyebrows, indicating that you were listening. "Yeah? What's up?" He ran his fingers along the digital sheets of your bed. "... What were you and Pomni talking about earlier today?"

"Eh? Me and Pomni?" You repeated, looking a bit confused. He nodded. You stopped to recall what you two had been chatting about just earlier that day. "Um... I think we were just making small talk? No specific topic." Jax let out a small "oh, okay" as it processed in his head.

"Do you like talking to Pomni?" He continued to survey you. You smiled and placed a hand on his head again. "I do, but not as much as I like talking to you!" You sang. He seemed to like that response and rested his head back on your chest, squeezing you a little tighter than before.

"You're quite the good hugger, Jaxy-boy!"

"Shut the fuck up and never call me that again."

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!! =D

This follows from Part 1

Warning: long post 😊😅

Oh you're still here 😶

Honestly, I was really liking his character right up till he said this. He was nice, friendly, and yes, a little invasive, but as long as Peem didn't mind, I was okay. But we all know how a love rival saying these words go in BLs, so when he said this, alarms went off in my head. And he continued flirting. Which is not okay. I know Peem doesn't really mind, but still. Kluen, you are a mostly decent human, but please take a rejection as it's supposed to be taken.

Also, when he says he's handsome and rich, and Peem jokes about how much he's willing to "invest", Peem says "Phum is handsome, too." No mention of his money. If Phum heard this, he'd be jumping and squealing, but it also tells us that Peem cares fuck all about how rich Phum is. Which will probably help Phum gain more confidence in this love.

Who the fuck cares. 🙂

Listen, as I said in my previous post, I'd decided to ignore the parents because they didn't deserve any attention, but when he stopped Fang from going after Phum, I was furious. That is nothing compared to what I felt in this scene. You ruined his childhood, gave him trauma that he'll never be able to fully leave behind, gave Fang trauma too, and then you dare to ask him why he doesn't talk to you? You have the audacity to keep pestering him even after he says he has something to do? And now you're ruining his adult life too. With all due respect, which is absolutely none: fuck. off.

@almayver I'm really thinking of writing that fic. 🙂

I love this friend group so much.

The moment Q says Peem is sad they all barge into his house to cheer him up, no hesitation. They don't demand to know the whys and hows (Q does, but he already knows), just settle in comfortable and loudly, and be their chaotic selves. This reminds us that despite all the flirting and cheesy lines and hugging and kissies, friendship will always be a priority for these group of friends.

And let's be honest, Peem expected Aunt Pui, and we all expected Phum. This was a very nice surprise.

All this time, Peem wasn't upset Phum was late. He was worried about Phum.

This was the scene that made me cry. We Are was supposed to be a simple romcom. WHAT IS THIS THEN.

I just- I really have nothing to say here, they said it all.

They both did what they did and are feeling what they are because they're important to each other.

Phum did it because he didn't want to ruin Peem's big day again. And Peem is upset and worried because he thinks he might not be Phum's safe space anymore.

Peem's reaction tells me that maybe he was over the moon last episode when he could provide comfort to Phum. And he's very very glad that at least with him, Phum can be himself. This incident makes him question that, which leads him to questioning their entire relationship. Phum himself said (many times in various ways) that Peem makes him feel good and warm and comfortable, and he's not lonely anymore. But... if Peem isn't that to Phum anymore, then what is he?

This is one of the best love confessions Thai BL has ever given me.

I have nothing else to say. This has already given us all enough emotional damage.

This reminds me of that textpost: "Caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing."

Love that Q has already accepted Phum hehe. You know your man is good when he's bestie-approved.

Love even more how he's giving the cold shoulder to Phum and then defending him to Peem 😭

Well he did, but apparently your ears were "muffled".

Also- love this scene.

HE SAYS IT.

I mean, I get him though, who the hell would be able to say no to Phum's "please? 🥺"

Just putting this here 'cause I happened to pause at the right moment and this scene is beautiful and very pretty. <3

I missed Matt (JJ) and his impeccable sense of humour so bad

Every group is incomplete without a Matt hehe

If I had a rupee for every time a couple kissed at this booth, I'd have two rupees, which is nothing, but it's strange it happened twice.

Another very beautiful scene. <33

He says that as if he isn't squealing and giggling inside. But. FINALLY. OUR PATIENCE HAS BEEN REWARDED, THEY'RE FINALLY DATING!!!!

OOH flower bouquet kiss hehe

Reminds me of QToey tote bag kiss

Next ep:

Portrait drawing?!!

"KHUN FAEN"??

SOFT TANFANG KISS???

HOW DO THEY EXPECT ME TO SURVIVE THIS?!!

*sigh*

Anyways, that's all for this week, see you next ep!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have some ice cream 🍨

My We Are posts.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Tender Payment for Our Sins (14/?)

Tender Payment for Our Sins

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: TLOU season 1.

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Jackson is less idyllic than it seems, as is everything post-infection. He doesn't want to see you tossed out, and can’t take the way you flinch when the men come sniffing around, so he does the only thing he and Ellie can think of to keep you around.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Tender Payment For our Sins has significant Trigger and Content Warnings. Please see Chapter 1 for Full list of Trigger Warnings and Tags.

Full Story on AO3

Most recent CHAPTER on AO3

Chapter 14: Safe

Summary: You shared your secret, now Ellie wants to share hers.

A/N: Compared to the last two chapters, this one will feel short. It is, but that’s how it was designed because it needs to be its own self-contained part. I consider this chapter the last in “Part 1” of this fic. There are four pretty distinct sections for me as a writer, but not distinct enough that I wanted to split them into different stories.

While I won’t talk about it in depth here, despite what the creators of the show have said, I will staunchly refute the idea that anyone in the current TLOU timeline could have created a cure under nearly any circumstances, but especially those portrayed in season 1. My characterization of Ellie takes this, her age, and the backstory that I’ve given about the reader character’s experiences into account. I hope you enjoy my take, and I’m happy to talk about my take more with anyone because I know it’s a hot topic.

Once again, thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, and just still here with me on this amazing trip. I am overwhelmed with the love you’ve shown this story and enjoy talking about it so much with all of you.

Trigger Warnings: Canon events of TLOU discussed, discussion of events in previous chapters.

~*~

The sun is just starting to filter through the cracks in the drapes when your eyes flutter open. You shut them again, taking a deeper breath and snuggling back down into the bed. 

You feel him at your back: warm and solid with a hand on your hip, his breath puffing gently across your shoulder. It seems insane now, wanting to walk away from this. You still feel the urge inside you, but you can identify it better now. 

You’re afraid. Your body says run. 

You’ve spent so long being afraid of so much with no room to move, no way to fix it or change it, that run feels like the only option. 

For too long, run had been the only option.

But Joel is warm and solid at your back. He hasn’t faltered, hasn’t changed his mind. You can’t remember the last time you slept so well, so soundly. You remember wrapping yourself back up in him in the middle of the night, a nightmare having only half formed, having less power over you than the vivid movies you usually see in your dreams because he was there. 

Run leaves you cold and alone with the prospect of infected and the evil of humans who have lost their humanity outside of those gates. 

You can identify it now, that urge, and it’s easier to push it away, even if you’re still afraid, still terrified, that things will turn on you. You know it’s wrong to lay all of this at his feet, to make him your savior and attribute it to him, but there’s nothing else for it. You’ve been alone so long, his desire to be with you is nothing short of a miracle in your mind, nothing short of overwhelmingly heady and addictive. 

It does carry magic. 

It does carry hope. 

The intimacy that snuck up on you over the last two days surprises you. It’s fragile. Cautious. Held hands and tight hugs, his nose at your hairline and one featherlight kiss on your forehead. It feels natural to fall into him. It feels good to relinquish the tightly held control you’ve been grasping on to for so long to him. It feels good to melt into his body and feel protected and surrounded. 

It doesn’t scare you like you think it should. It doesn’t dredge up old memories that show up in your nightmares unbidden. 

He calms you with large, strong hands and a sure touch. 

His confidence in this world is intoxicating. You want to drink it in for the rest of your days. 

You want to learn from it. 

His hand slides over your hip, dragging across the thin fabric of your pajama shorts until he’s spreading his fingers across your stomach over your shirt, pressing himself closer to your back, his nose buried in your hair. “Morning,” he mumbles out, thick with sleep and half identifiable. 

“Morning.” Your voice slips from you as a whisper as your hand slides over his. You loath to wake up, to start the day. This bed, like the couch the night before, has some kind of magic to it. 

It’s safe. 

You feel safe. 

You haven’t felt safe in so. Fucking. Long. 

Not since before Outbreak Day, if you’re honest with yourself. 

You’ll do anything to keep that going for just a few more minutes. 

He settles again at your back, breath tickling the nape of your neck now, slow and deep as he drifts away from consciousness. 

You let your eyes slip shut again. 

~*~

Ellie’s quiet at breakfast, shooting Joel looks between bites of egg. He ignores her for the most part, staying silent, one hand on your knee under the table as you eat. 

It grounds you and holds you steady. Her manner is unsettling enough that it puts you on edge. It ignites that urge to run before you can be hurt again. You turn away from her eyes, and then it’s all you can do to try to keep your focus on your breakfast. Not only are her eyes on you, others are, as well. Eyes of women you know have coveted Joel for months. Eyes of men who had petitioned to make you theirs in the most uncomfortable of ways. Eyes of the council. It seems like everyone’s watching you at the tiny corner table, it seems like they’re all still judging and questioning. You’ve been so distracted, so exhausted and lost that even when you noticed the eyes on you, they still felt far away. They seem far closer, far more sinister today.

You’ve managed a little cocoon this past week, their home, your home now you remind yourself, and the little walk to the dining hall and back, your hand tucked tightly in his. 

It used to be utilitarian: a signal to everyone else this was supposed to be real while trying to convince yourself not to fully fall into him, not to put yourself in a position where he’d have to catch you. Now, when you hold hands his thumb grazes over your knuckles and you give him gentle squeezes and you know whatever it is, it’s real. 

There’s been no work, no discussions with others except Tommy at your door. That changes in another day. You’ll have to go back to facing them all, to pretending you don’t know about the gossip going on behind your back, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. The peace you’ve found is so tenuous, less than a day old, but you’re addicted to it already. 

His thumb rubs over your knee. “Some people can’t help themselves,” he mutters, lifting his mug to his lips. “Can’t mind their own fucking business.” 

You switch your fork to your other hand and reach for his fingers. He takes your hand, holding it tightly. You know you’re not alone anymore. You know he sees the things you do just as sharply. 

It doesn’t make it any better, but it makes it a little easier to bear. 

~*~

Ellie pulls him away from you as soon as you reach the house, whatever’s been bubbling inside of her too much to contain. Their hushed voices, right on the brink of an argument, filter out to you. You can’t hear the words, but the tones are clipped and tight and full of passion. You drift away to the living room, picking up the book you’ve been trying to read for days now and settle into the armchair. 

You only make it two pages before Joel is in the doorway, face dour. You close your book, not caring that you haven’t marked your place, and set it on the table next to you as you stare up at him, heart pounding again. 

It’s like whiplash, these last two days. 

“I, uh,” he scrubs a hand over his beard, looking away to where you assume Ellie is, then turns back to you. “Ellie and I need to talk to you.” 

“Okay.” You stand, following him to the kitchen table, feeling like a prisoner on death row. The comfort, the confidence, is gone from his eyes. He’s close, but not close enough when you settle at the kitchen table, Ellie across from you, chewing on her lip. 

You wait. 

The clock ticks the seconds away, too loud in the tense silence. 

“Go on,” Joel prods Ellie, clasping his hands together on the table. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “This is what you want, right?”

“Right,” she bobs her head, spurred out of some kind of frozen state, “yeah.” It takes her a second to meet your eyes, and you see fear in them. 

You can’t imagine what you’ve done, what you’ve said that’s got her like this. Is she still afraid you’ll run? Has she changed her mind about wanting you around? Did she make another careless comment that will get you tossed out of Jackson for real this time?

“Fuck,” she curses under her breath. “Okay. Just… I gotta just…” She looks down and back up, nervous. “You… you told us your secret. You trusted us with it. So, I want to tell you ours. Mine.” Her eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel, but he isn’t looking at either of you. He has his eyes on his clasped hands and if you didn't know any better, you’d think he was praying. “I-”

“You trust us, right?” Joel interrupts, moving his hand to yours, holding tightly. “You trust me?” His eyes are dark pools of fear, and it makes your breaths come faster. 

“I do,” you reassure, taking his hand in yours, “but…” You want to say that he’s scaring you, that this is making you anxious. You want to tell him that you’ve seen the worst men are capable of and your mind is conjuring the vilest possible things you can think of that they might be keeping from you. “Joel?” Only his name comes out, a soft plea to let this happen swiftly, to let whatever darkness they share be something you can come to terms with, let it be something you can keep for them, too.

“Just,” he swallows thickly. “Just trust us, until you know everything, ok?” He shifts closer to you so quickly the chair scrapes loudly on the floor. His eyes hold yours, only inches away now. You can feel his fear trembling through him, running like an undercurrent in his voice. “I would never, never put you in danger. You know that, right?”  

So why do his words feel dangerous, then? You answer, anyway. “I do.”

His gaze never leaves yours as he commands Ellie, “Show her.”

Ellie’s confused, frustrated. “But we should explain…”

“Show. Her.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

Your eyes flick over his shoulder, watching as Ellie leans back, pulling her sweatshirt off. “It’s… it’s been like this for more than a year now. I’m not dangerous, I promise.”

You try so hard not to react, but you can’t help the way your hands tighten on his, the way your breath catches in your throat when you see the unmistakable mark of an infected bite on her arm. Your free hand grabs for his other arm, trying to anchor yourself, trying to stop the swirling of thoughts in your mind. Your first instinct is to put space between you and the veiny, mangled first-signs of infection. To run. 

Run.

You’ve seen the bites. You’ve watched them progress through plexiglass. You know what they look like. 

And in the space of just one more breath, you realize this one looks wrong. 

It was enough to scare you, to trigger every instinct you had, but it’s wrong. 

It’s dried up. It’s mottled. It’s…old.

You can’t help the way your voice quavers. “Year?”

Joel’s hand squeezes yours, he slips even closer to you, eyes on your reaction, but you can only look at her. At Ellie. You can only see the grotesque swirl of marred flesh on her arm, the fear in her eyes. 

“Yeah,” she confirms gently. “Year.”

“How?”

And she tells you. She tells you about a night out in a mall and having to shoot someone she loved. Joel’s grip slowly loosens as they take turns, telling you the expansive story of how they crossed the country, how she went from being a piece of cargo to being precious without using those exact words. You catch the sideways looks when they gloss over moments: when they make meeting a hoard in Kansas City sound like taking a stroll in the afternoon, when they don’t elaborate on rough days and even harder nights without food or shelter…

…when Joel gives a slight shake to his head as Ellie stumbles over a place called Silver Lake, and she says that’s a longer story for another time. 

Your hand never leaves his, and you don’t want it to. All the while, your eyes flick back to the gnarled skin of her arm, a thought trying to grow in the back of your mind that you can’t quite grasp yet. 

She gets angry when she talks about the Fireflies. The hospital. 

And then, surprising Joel, too, she starts to cry. 

She swipes at the tears harshly with the back of her hand, scrubbing at her nose and sniffing. “I was fucking mad at you, Joel, for a long time, because I thought…” She swallows, looking over at him before dropping her head. 

He radiates guilt. His shoulders dropping, his hand softening in yours, you know he wants to say something, but she moves on before he can. 

“But then you told us about your babies.”

Her words surprise you both, again, and you can feel that idea in the back of your mind growing, almost tenable, almost big enough to understand. 

She folds her hands in her lap, looking away from you both. “I never thought… I never thought they wouldn’t want to keep me alive… or that it couldn’t work.” She sighs, trying to play off the emotion. “I’m such a fucking idiot. Never thought about the fact they might have to cut into my brain.” She laughs, harsh and dark and broken. “Then you told us about what happened to you and how long they tried with you. It’s stupid, really, that I never really thought about how long the smartest people in the world might have tried to make a cure. Never thought about the fact that the Fireflies might not know what they were doing. That it wouldn’t work.” 

Joel swears, soft and broken, and you know this confession is for him, too. 

It snaps in place, quick and harsh and heartbreaking when you finally figure it out, when her words finally let the thought blossom into a real understanding. She may be a little older, but she’s like your babies: she was a hope for a future that can’t ever be, and it wasn’t until you shared your loss, that she realized how Joel had saved her. 

You’re on your feet before you can think about it, rounding the table to pull her into you. 

She’s not an affectionate person. You’ve never seen her hug Joel. You’ve never seen her hug anyone, for that matter. 

In this moment, though, there’s nothing else you can do. There are no words for the kinship she feels with your lost children. There are no reassurances that something like that won’t ever happen again to her. Those placations don’t exist, and you won’t pretend. 

So, you hold her, you pull her against you and hold her head to your chest and run a hand through her hair because you have nothing else to do for her. And she slowly holds you back, hiding her face against you, hiding from the world in you like you hide from the world in Joel. 

Her hands wrap around your back, she locks her fists together and holds tight. You’re not sure how long you’re there, minutes or hours, with her breath hiccupping against you, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes to growing wet patches in your shirt, but it doesn’t matter. 

You hold her, because that’s all you can do. 

You hold her because you know what it’s like to lose someone to the masks and lights of an operating theater. You know what it’s like to feel like an experiment and a number. You know what it’s like to be told that you’re the spark of hope for the world, then see for yourself that you’re nothing more than an experiment that will fail. There’s a disappointment, a devastation that comes with it that can’t be voiced: somehow, you and you alone have let down all of humanity. 

And now it’s a feeling you share with the girl in your arms, and you’d give anything for her to not know that devastation. 

Eventually Joel stands, wrapping himself around you both. You tuck your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes flutter shut and let him wash over you as you hold back your own tears. 

He was afraid you were going to be frightened. He was afraid you were going to leave when confronted with their secret. 

Other people might have. 

Other people would have. 

Now, you’ll do anything in your power to stay, to make sure you can protect this precious baby in a way you couldn’t protect your own children. To make sure she gets the chance to be vibrant and alive and understand that none of it is her fault. 

“Thank you for telling me, Ellie,” you whisper, voice a hoarse croak low in your throat. “Thank you for trusting me.”

She laughs, shaking her head against you, sarcasm dripping from her lips “See? I told you we were all fucking broken.” She takes a breath, settling against you again, voice softer. “You didn’t run away, and you weren’t that scared. That was…” She clears her throat, finally pulling away. “That was pretty cool of you.”

Your brain falters as she stands, watching as she covers her arm again and settles back into the facade you now recognize. It makes you wonder if you did something wrong, if you scared her somehow, with how fast she settles the mask of indifference over her features. She makes an excuse that’s barely a sentence and leaves, slipping out the front door with a heavy look you can’t decipher settling between her and Joel before she goes. It leaves the two of you in the kitchen, the ticking clock the only sound once again, your body still pressed against his, one of his arms still tight against you. 

You’re not sure you have the words yet. 

You’re not sure there are words. 

“We should go after her,” you whisper, not wanting to move. 

“She’ll be alright.” He shakes his head, you can feel his beard rubbing against your hair. “She needs the time alone. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

His cheek presses against your temple, soft hairs on his beard tickling as they drag until his lips rest on your skin. “What… what do you need?” He asks awkwardly, lips shifting against your skin, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“This,” you reply without thought, letting your other arm wrap around his stomach. “Just… stay right here for a little longer.” He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tight. “I got all day, darlin’.”

[v-writes]

Howdy! I'm Valen!

I started this side blog ages ago as an attempt to have a place to post what I had written, and despite being able to reread the posts talking about posting something, and knowing what I was referring to at the time, this mostly became a place I reblogged writing advice. but now that I've started writing more again and posting fanfiction, I'd like a tumblr to link that is writing specific.

Main goal of this blog is to track how much and where I'm writing, having multiple wips helps make sure I can always be in the mood to write something, even if that makes progress in any one wip slow going, and tracking word count helps me feel like I have more solid progress compared to if I'm just reading over what I wrote in a day. The number makes it feel more real I guess.

I have a word count goal of 200 words a day, or 1000 in a week.

the difference in daily vs weekly goal totals makes it to where my goals take into account that I can't write every day, and the daily word count goal is hopefully small enough that if I write at all that day I can hit it and be able to say I hit the goal.

main: @valen-but-not-tine

ao3: valen_but_not_tine

current wips:

DPXDC

Best Foot Forward

ch 3/? posted, in progress, accidental summoning, no one knows what's going on, but they are figuring it out as the go (or trying to.)

Captured King

Inspired by this post by mokulule, will start pretty similarly and then diverge.

The Justice League have successfully captured Phantom after a relatively unknown branch of the United State's government, the GIW, had reached out to them for aid in stopping the ghost who was destroying their facilities. Now they need to figure out what to do with him, hand him over to the GIW despite their story not lining up, or take a different approach.

ao3

snippet: 1 2 3 full post

Blood of the Covenant (previous title Damiko)

entirely in my drafts, almost more fanfic of a fanfic than just fanfic (thank you the price of peace by joylessnightsky and between a rock & a dragon's egg by haleswallows.

currently planned at either 3-4 chapters, tho with other side ideas in mind, because it is almost one long scene I don't want to start posting until it's all done, but ch 1 is complete 1200ish words (pending edits that I won't do until the rest is done) and ch 2 is the main thing I'm writing on atm, as of rn (1/19/25) it's 3700ish words.

tho really I have a much longer idea more clearly inspired by those two fics in mind, i.e. fantasy royalty au with politically arranged marraige, but I want to get a fic that is more easily finishable out there first, before my obsessed with the fantasy political intrigue ass can go fully insane.

Danny Phantom

Phic Phight

2025-series on ao3

Unexpected Help- tumblr ao3

Danielle needs a place to crash and recover from Vlad’s latest attempt to turn her into goop and finds refuge with someone (human or ghost!) completely unexpected

Living for Lunch-tumblr ao3

Danny wakes up in middle of the night and turns on the TV. When did Lunch Lady get her own cooking show?

Fright Night Bet Results- tumblr ao3

Dash and Danny had made a side bet in addition to Mr. Lancer's competition to get out of detention, and it's time for Danny to pay up.

Wait for me- tumblr ao3

Casper High's theater department performs a teaser of their next show, Hadestown, during lunch.

Crunch like Chips?- tumblr ao3

Danny tries to take a nap during lunch. (Drabble)

In Pumpkin Near-tumblr ao3

In the Ultimate Enemy timeline, Dan and Fright Knight have grown close.

Fights and Aftermaths- tumblr ao3

"Boop." Danny pokes her on the nose, sending her into a fit of giggles. "That was great Dani!" "Yeah?" "Yes! We should do this more often, training doesn't have to be a slog, it's fun with other people!" "Does that mean you'd be willing to teach me the ghostly wail? The shields are useful and all, but the wail is like, an instant win ability." Danny halts in the air, stuttering for a moment, "Dani that's, that's different."

You are yourself, and you have to live with that every day. (Maybe you don't have to do it alone.)

Invisobang

By the rules of the event I can't share anything about it but I do want to put it on my wip list.

RWBY

Red Trailer

Ruby visits her mother's memorial and faces off against some Beowolves. Part Ruby character study, part writing exercise for myself to practice action scenes.

TNG

nothing currently in wip status but wanted to shout out the other main fandom I could write fanfic for, esp as "what I am interested in writing fanfic for" is not directly related to how insane about a piece of media I am.

[jencsi]

A few months ago, there was a massive head canon ask list that was relogged by one of my mutuals. I saved it and decided to do all of the questions on the list in regard to Julie Finlay. So here it is. Some of the questions got a bit redundant towards the end. But you know I could easily talk about this character for an eternity. 34 questions will do for now.

-1- name- I love her name. I think it suits her perfectly. Breaking this into four parts starting with Julie. 10/10 name. Feminine but also layered. Proper. Finn is a nickname she adopted in college when she was attending the same university as her father and pursuing her original degree in medicine just like him and folks who were still around who remembered Finn’s father would often compare her to him or talk about him or tell stories about him to her and even though they meant well, she felt overwhelmed by the pressure to be just as good as him in her work so she utilized the Finn nickname to distance herself from that pressure. Jules. Beautiful. Devastating. Something she hates but at the same time can’t help but allow to be spoken. Comes from her parents. Used during the very first meeting she had with Russell for the job in Seattle and has stuck ever since. A sign of respect even if she doesn’t see it that way. Slugger- given to her by her father after she started to excel at baseball and softball. Bonus- a middle name. I gave her the middle name Elisabeth for obvious reasons but it ended up working out nicely for my fics. Old fashioned. Comes from her biological mothers side. 

-2- family- She was born to Constance Finlay on March 20th 1968. Constance is Patrick Finlays younger sister. She is only sixteen when she gives birth. Patrick is already in his twenties and married to Karen. Constance can’t bear the idea of her baby being given away to strangers but Patrick doesn’t feel ready to be a parent. Baby Finn is then left at the convent/church between Patrick's home and the hospital where he works. After six months of anguish, he breaks and he and Karen go to the convent to adopt her under the guise of being new parents, finding her easily amongst the other foster children because of her curly hair just like Constance. This short term abandonment via the church is the connection that would later get her targeted by the Gig Harbor Killer. Finn would never know she was abandoned and later adopted by her aunt and uncle until the coma and case and long after they had passed away. She fully believed they were her mom and dad her entire life. It was a 50 year secret they took to the grave. Constance is alive and well and has been following Finn around all her life, keeping her distance until the coma and recovery when the secret is revealed. (I have a few fics already done about this) 

-3- childhood- Despite the secret adoption and being raised by her paternal uncle and non-biological aunt, Finn was raised with nothing but love. She was never spoiled but she also had advantages of being an only child with two working parents. The show mentioned her having a brother but I liked the idea of her being an only child to further cement some of the loneliness she experiences in life. Her father was an emergency room doctor her entire life. He was well educated, soft spoken, but knew how to be tough when he needed to be. When Finn had outrageous questions about life and why things are the way they are, he would do his very best to answer her. Both her parents were avid readers and firm believers in as much education as possible. Her mother was an elementary school teacher her entire life. But she struggled with infertility, making the adoption of Finn both a blessing and a painful reminder of her previous losses. Her mother was more traditional in some aspects of her life (cooking, cleaning, dressing modestly) but also had a supportive husband who encouraged her to pursue whatever she wanted (early feminists I suppose) Both encouraged Finn to never settle for anything, to pursue any career she wanted, but not to be too hard on herself when things didn’t work out. Both her parents passed away young (her father at 53 from cancer and her mother in her sixties from early dementia) but they left Finn with enough guidance and reminders of her value and worth (via Russell and his wife) she would never feel alone in the world. 

-4- voice- The only headcanon I can think of for this is the way her voice breaks or cracks with emotions/despair when something devastating has happened in her life, that on the verge of tears sound. It will destroy you when you hear it because you know shes really hurting. I suppose her sleepy just woke up voice would be different too, she would lure you into a lazy day in bed with that tone. 

-5- face/looks- obviously we know Finn is pretty and tends to get attention from multiple suitors. I like to think of her as classic beauty, and doesn't need makeup if any, (lucky). Does she use that to her advantage, sometimes. Does she get sick of being sought after simply because of her looks, yes absolutely. She just wants to be loved for who she is as a person and valued for her mind and her heart. 

-6- hair- Despite my previous headcanon about not objectifying Finn, her hair is one of my favorite things about her. For starters, the curls in season 12 were top tier, perfection, fit her personality perfectly. As the seasons went on, she started to lose some of that bounce and vibrance, whether that was a writers decision or just what the hair and makeup people felt like doing, we won’t ever know, but it was nice to have those curls while we did. For only 3 seasons of Finn, I can easily tell what season we are in by her hair, much like Catherine over the years. 

-7- body- I love that Finn is sporty and athletic and scrappy. She will beat you up for any small transgression. She’s always been small for her age as a kid and knowing that, she had to work harder, fight harder, to be seen and acknowledged which follows her into adulthood. 

-8- smell/personal scent- as a CSI, it’s difficult to have scented product at work but I feel like Finn would love to wear things occasionally when not at work. Her hair care products would be very beachy scented, ocean themed, salty waves, etc. 

-9- clothes and habits of dress- she can pretty much rock any look she wants. The job keeps her stifled in office wear/business casual. But she loves to dress up for events and outings with Sara and Morgan (CC: Girls Gone Wild/Wilder episodes) but she can also dress down, sporty, jeans, a T-shirt from her favorite sports team, work out clothes. Just depends on the day and what’s going on. 

-10- posture/physicality/movement- Finn takes pretty good care of herself physically. She’s very active and wants to maintain that. Running, tennis, baseball, those dominate her world when she’s not working. The writers really made sure they focused on that for her as well as paying attention to how sporty Elisabeth is in real life which also fits Finn perfectly. I don’t think she has bad posture unless she’s working deep on a case and doesn’t realize she’s slouching at the desk or computer, that sort of thing. She’s fidgety, which we got to see right away in her very first episodes. She always has to be moving, sitting still is not easy for her. This is just how it’s always been since she was a child. Her teachers would praise her intellect but often scold her restlessness. 

-11- hobbies and interests- reading, playing sports, watching sports, sleeping in when off work, keeping up on the latest science news as it pertains to her field of work. 

-12- skills and abilities- kick ass blood spatter expert obviously, biology, chemistry, lab work, some medical knowledge as her first job goal was to be a doctor like her father. I would also add photography since she does that for work. Athletic which bears repeating like the questions above. Philosophical, tends to think about the “why” of things. Why are we here, why did that happen that way, why are things the way they are, always asking questions. 

-13- ideals or philosophies- being in the line of work she is, seeking out justice is a big factor for her. Giving a voice to someone who no longer has one was a major point in how she decided to pursue criminology and police work. As a child, she did not handle any unfair loss. She played sports and always accepted outcomes win or lose when they were handled correctly, but being told she couldn’t participate in a sport just because she’s a girl would be something she would not have accepted and would have fought to change. She would work hard to ensure that she was just as qualified as a man to do the job which that drive continued into her adult life. In this tumultuous political climate we currently have, she would certainly lean more towards left, liberal ideas as that is just a combination of how she was raised and how she has observed the world around her. 

-14- goals and intentions- her goals for life are to be the voice for those who can’t speak anymore, seek justice for anyone who has been wronged or hurt as it pertains to her work, to be happy, to be loved, to feel safe and secure in her world and to have fun for as long as she can. 

-15- pets or feelings about animals- growing up, her parents were both working and unfortunately did not have time for pets. Her mother had a bird feeder in the backyard alongside her garden she tended to. If they stumbled across a stray animal who needed help they would certainly do what they could to help that critter. Fast forward to CSI times when Nick has Sam the german shepherd, when I headcanon them, I know she would adore that dog and do anything to help him, spoil him with toys and treats, play with him, run around the yard to wear them both out. Sam would be her first pet and she would devote her heart to him. 

-16- home/place that they live- currently resides in Las Vegas but has had many previous homes. Born and raised in Philadelphia Pennsylvania from childhood all the way until her mid twenties when she was hired by Russell and she moved to Seattle. She lived in Seattle from the mid nineties until two thousand ten when she lost the job after the Cooley case. She tried to move back home but since her childhood home was no longer hers, she bounced around from various friends places in Philly and then heard about a temporary job teaching new criminalists about blood spatter via crime scene reenactment in Laughlin Nevada, which ended up pushing her into Las Vegas after Russell sought her out for an open position at the department he recently began overseeing. Each one of these places has a special place in her heart. Obviously her childhood home shaped her into the adult she became, seeing the good and the bad of the suburban environment she was raised in. Seattle is the first place she felt like a new version of herself. It was all hers. No one in her family had made a major move like that for a career. She felt like she was flying high until the Cooley case in 2010 brought that high crashing down. Vegas did something different to her soul. She didn’t think she would grow as attached to it as she did (thanks to one DB Russell perhaps?) wherever he seems to be is where she is grounded. 

-17- personal sense of style and decor- when she’s not working and forced into business casual/police issued articles of clothing, she dresses very casually (jeans, hoodies, sweaters) unless there is a party or a girls night out with Sara and Morgan then she would put more effort into styling an outfit. For her home, she fills it with things that have meaning, lots of items from her childhood, her fathers medical books that have lasted all these years, journals, photos, trinkets from her mother that she can’t part with, science related items, articles, sports memorabilia, both from her childhood and from present day, she saves concert ticket stubs, movie tickets, intending to make scrapbooks but they end up just kind of everywhere. 

-18- beloved or important items or property- her fathers medical books, her mothers pearl necklace and other miscellaneous jewelry, a 57 Cadillac, also her fathers, the books she used for school that she still references today, chemistry, biology, DNA, blood analysis, a trinket box which contains smaller items- rocks from her mothers garden, buttons and pieces of fabric from her mothers sewing kit, seashells, marbles, any collectible item she could study and revisit when stressed or bored, various gifts from her friends over the years, The Thin Man from Russell, paintings from Barbara, coloring book pictures from Katie, birthday cards, random journals she would start and stop and never finish, pictures of her outings with Morgan and Sara, Seattle Seahawks merch, a spare pair of her fathers reading glasses she could not part with, and, despite how she feels about marriage, her mothers wedding dress. 

-19- favorite food and eating habits- she is not the healthiest of people. Pizza is her go to. Whatever meal she can throw together with limited ingredients since grocery shopping is difficult with her schedule- canned soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, she loves sweets- cookies, brownies, ices cream, more of a snacker than a full meal prepper. Tea not coffee (not since the coma) beer with the guys during games, wine or mimosas with the girls during their trips, could use more water but never listens to her body which leads to headaches and regret. 

-20- love language/way they show affection-  this is perhaps one of my favorite things about her and what I love to write for her after all these years. Finn is an extremely affectionate person. She loves love. Sounds cliche but it was refreshing to see her attempt to connect with so many suitors on the show. She knew her worth and she knew life was short and she was not going to hold her feelings back out of fear. Girl was ready to rock and roll. She will steal the covers, she will cuddle, hold hands, public displays of affection are a must, she will dance and not care who sees, she will give gifts, make plans for date nights, she will go all in for any relationship. 

-21- fears- losing her independence- physically, mentally, financially, all the ways. Believe it or not, she fears disappointing people (shocking with how she behaves but hear me out) she would not be the trouble maker if it was not for a greater purpose. Even if people (Russell) don’t see it right away, 9 times out of 10, her actions, though reckless are justified, so she may seem to be making a mistake but she's not, the consequences suck, but she can handle them. In that same regard, she fears being wrong. Wrong enough to where it hurts people (Mike, Russell, etc) Spiders (thanks Nick) Thunderstorms (severe midwestern type) casual rain she's fine with (Seattle style). She never used to fear death but since the coma, her mind has convinced her there is something to fear, darkness and unknown. 

-22- favorite things- reading, baseball, tennis, pretty much any and all sports, being around the team in non work scenarios, Seattle, shopping, sleeping in. 

-23- occupation/job- world class, top of the line, dedicated, hard working criminalist specializing in blood spatter analysis specifically but also pretty good at all aspects of the job. 

-24- best memory- I feel like this is always going to be changing. Her first marriage to Mike in Seattle was not terrible, she has mostly good memories of that time. Graduating high school and college were a big deal to her. Securing the job in Seattle was a good day even if it started off to an awkward start. The holidays, especially when she started being invited to every event the Russell’s hosted. Getting the all clear to begin working again after the coma and recovery. 

-25- worst memory- the coma and recovery process are top of that list but also, losing her parents, watching them fight their separated battles with terrible illnesses, losing her first husband to a violent crime, case still unsolved, reckoning with those feelings most of her life, being let go from Seattle stung ALOT as we know. 

-26- interactions with their friends- she has mostly positive interactions with her friends. She started out shy as a child until she felt safe enough in her school spaces to be herself and connect with kids in her classes. Started to fall out with some of her friendships as she got older when most of her girlfriends got married and had kids. Gravitated towards more guy friends as she got older because she fit in with that crowd better. She is loyal as best she can be, circumstances change that. She would defend someone she cared about fiercely which led to fights in school with classmates who were bullies, much to her mothers dismay “What do you mean she punched that kid in the nose?” Despite the punishment that came with it, she would gladly accept them if it meant seeing her father show even just the slightest hint that he was proud of her for standing up for what was right and being a bit of a scrapper. 

-27- interactions with their enemies- see above. Unhinged, no regrets, no apologies, ready to rumble with anyone who crossed her. Not a sore loser though. When it came to sports and losing fair and square, she accepted those losses. But bullies, misogynists, anyone who told her no, smug criminals, any violence towards women, she will throw down and risk her entire career for what’s right even if it takes everyone else a while to catch up and see that she was right all along. 

-28- interactions with their lovers- Finn is such a lover girl. She will give you her entire heart and soul as soon as she’s comfortable and feels safe and secure. Sometimes that comes across too strongly or seems that she's trying too hard but she knows that time is precious and wasting time not sharing her feelings is a waste. I love that we got to see her with so many suitors during the show's run. Some of those encounters obviously did not end well but her intentions are always the same; she wants to, demands to be loved fully. She has mixed feelings on marriage. She doesn’t mind date nights and some of the cliches of romance (holding hands, PDA, giving gifts, the occasional bouquet of flowers) but she also likes non traditional things, (paying her own way, does not need doors opened for her, etc) lets her independence remain while also getting spoiled. She will spoil anyone who treats her right back in return; hugs, kisses, cuddles, tickle fights, all of it. 

-29- quirks and personal habits- oh boy where do I even begin? She is restless and fidgety. Can’t sit still for very long. Bounces her leg up and down when seated, plays with random parts of her clothing like loose strings, zippers, etc. that weird thing where she twists her fingers together or just holds them. When she is moving, it’s always extra, a spring in her step, a bounce to her hair. Always has to be right. Always has to have the last word. Needs constant validation. Gets in trouble but also doesn’t want to disappoint people (Russell mainly) feels that shame when she is in trouble but disguises it with pure rage. Anger management. On the flip side of that she is loyal, she will fight for you, she will never give up, she won’t walk away unless she’s been truly hurt. If she’s going to cry, you’re not going to see it. Instead you get broken TV’s and micro outbursts of rage. When she’s in a good mood, she’s going to love you with something fierce, lots of laughing and corny jokes and being silly. 

-30- personality- fun, lighthearted, witty, clever, sees the good in the world despite all the bad she sees. Tries to make the best of a bad situation. Will fight for anyone who was wronged. Wants to initiate fun even after a rough day. Occasionally oversteps with the boundaries of when to stop behaving recklessly and dangerously. Inserts herself into the scene when she feels like she's being ignored or downplayed. 

-31- way they are perceived by others- oh boy, well, at first blush, they would perceive her as wild, too much, too strong, too loud, too obnoxious, a know it all. Gets up in your business. Doesn’t know when to (stop) *CC: DB Russell and his zen) doesn’t let up, or learn ever. But they would also see a hard worker, someone who cares even if it comes across differently. 

-32- toxic traits- similar to the question above- she doesn’t listen or think about the consequences of her actions. Bold. Abrasive. Abrupt. Nosy. A scrapper. Fights back. Resistance. Doesn’t think before she speaks or look before she leaps. Reckless. 

-33- redeeming qualities- Intelligent. Can bite back in the toughest of conversations. Quick witted. Detailed. Somewhat organized when it comes to things like blood spatter work and notes. Not so much with her laundry and messy room. A true friend. She doesn’t want anyone to feel left out in a group setting. She remembers birthdays and holidays and will give thoughtful gifts. Would walk through fire and hell for what’s right. 

-34- feelings about themself- Oh sweet Finn, I think she would think pretty highly of herself but not in too arrogant of a way. She’s a well educated, morally and ethically strong individual raised to care about everyone and fight for justice. She knows she deserves to be treated right, loved, cared about, remembered. She knows she is the best at her job, she takes pride in that work. She knows there is always room for improvement but she doesn’t let her flaws ruin her life or control it too much. She’s proud of all she’s accomplished, she’s happy with her friends and found family and whatever current lover she has on rotation. She’s got beauty and brains. She knows how to let loose and have fun. She’s a girly girl but also just one of the guys. She fits in with both of those crowds.

[ziskandra]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (if you’d like). Spread the self-love ♥️

Ahh, thank you for the ask! I always do love this meme. I think a couple of people sent me this one at some point last year as well, but I accidentally deleted the asks and couldn't remember who they were </3. It will be interesting to see how my answers have changed since the last time I did this! Under a cut because I got in my feelings with my Author's Commentary, but for those who might be interested, the list contains three Dragon Age fics, a Mass Effect: Andromeda one, and one from Ace Attorney.

1. Retrospect | Mass Effect: Andromeda | Alec/Ellen | 10,032 words

Written in the months following Andromeda's release for the Mass Effect Big Bang, this fic nonetheless remains to hold a very special place in my heart. Quite because it was the first time I actually finished a project that was more complicated than a one-shot consisting of a few linear scenes! Riffing off the concept that our lives flash before our eyes through the free association of memories, the story is told in Alec Ryder's dying moments through non-linear vignettes separated through five primary chapters (not counting the two appendices). Each chapter gets less and less descriptive as gets closer and closer to death. It was extremely satisfying to not only get several comments remarking that I'd made Alec and his family relationships seem more realistic and well-rounded, but I also received one of my favourite comments ever, which still lives rent-free in my mind, part of which reads: "the last 2 lines of this fic were such a beautiful and character-appropriate end that i have been sorely disappointed with the last lines of every other book i’ve read since." which. high praise but you know what I'LL TAKE IT 🥺😭 Fun fact: when I was writing this fic, I would remark to my beta that I totally head-cannoned Alec as autistic, but that I didn't want to state that explicitly as I didn't want to claim to represent any identities I didn't possess. Let's just say 2021 came for me hard and fast...!

2. Crescendo | Dragon Age | Meresino | 20,298 words

Holds second place in my heart, quite possibly for being the longest complete thing I've ever written in my life. Funnily enough, also written for a Big Bang! (The 2023 Dragon Age Big Bang.) Long story short, I'd written a couple of one-shots (most relevantly Precipice) set in a 'verse where Meredith and Orsino had been romantically involved in their younger days, causing them to fall into old patterns of intimacy when drawn into conflict when they were later in positions of power. But then I started thinking more about what that previous relationship would have actually looked like, and well, the plot of what would become Crescendo beamed itself into my head! Also, while I was brainstorming this fic, @sharksister made the very astute observation that both Meredith and Orsino had lost a loved one who'd locked themselves in a cupboard before meeting a fiery end, and I've just had to sit with that and be haunted by it ever since... but hey, what else to do with these feelings other than write about them!

3. with no place to go | Ace Attorney | Franziska von Karma | 700 words Compared to the previous two, a rec that's on the shorter side! I wrote this fic shortly before Christmas a couple of years ago when I was wallowing in family feelings. And as anybody who's familiar with Ace Attorney would know, Franziska has ample reason to possess Complex Feelings on Family, especially at Christmas. I think this one has a special place in my heart because it was the first fic I'd written for the sake of just writing in years, and because I'd always intended to follow it up with another Christmas fic tracing Franziska's recovery over the years. Oh well, maybe this Christmas! It would be kind of interesting to explore why despite being explicitly invited to Christmas celebrations in this fic, it takes Franziska several years to actually agree. And maybe I'll actually be able to play AAI2 properly in the interim, lol. 4. a celebration of being alive | Dragon Age | Female Cousland/Loghain Mac Tir | 2,967 words This fic had been an idea which had rattled around my brain for a while as I had always found the lore surrounding the required preparations for the Dark Ritual vague. I wanted to play around with what might happen if a pregnant Warden laid the killing blow on the archdemon. It's also incredibly funny to me that almost four years later I am yet again deep-diving on all soul related lore for an entirely different set of characters. (Well, I suppose poor Morrigan is the hinge of connection. Woman doesn't know where to quit!) This fic has a special place in my heart because I think I wrote it in one setting after coming off a 7+ days straight at work, including replaying the end of Origins to check the veracity of a couple of specific Loghain dialogue I wanted to reference (i.e., beginning the Dark Ritual discussion with Loghain then backing out can go: WARDEN: Loghain, we need to talk. LOGHAIN: I find that the direct approach usually works best. WARDEN: I don't think I can do this.) Of course, in this fic, they're already fucking, so Morrigan's just getting shut out of the process and Loghain is not learning the full truth of the matter >:) (The other dialogue Loghain dialogue referenced is when he's left at the city gates when the ritual is not undertaken: LOGHAIN: There is nothing I could say to dissuade you. WARDEN: No easy way out for you, Loghain. LOGHAIN: No. No easy way out for me.) 5. the morning after | Dragon Age | Cullen & Orsino | 2,143 words

This was written for a prompt fest where we were given a title to write a story around. I almost went for the obvious, but instead decided to rack my brain for something that was as far as removed from my initial instincts as possible.

Hence, a story set in the immediate aftermath of the end of DA2 where Orsino survives and is both terrified Cullen is going to call for more templar reinforcements and also struck by how terribly young he is.

[animatorweirdo]

Good morning/evening! It's muffin anon. Of course, you can use my ideas in your fics. Just mention me in the chapter notes. I would love to see your interpretation of my ideas.

So, this idea/mini-fic has been sitting in my drafts for some time now. Brace yourself, this is long.

Imagine you find yourself in a strange dreamscape. And you see a stranger in the distance. You try to get closer to the stranger but no matter how hard you try, you are stuck right where you were. Then, the stranger turns around and you see the most angelic face you have ever seen.

You wake up and don't think too much about your dream. Until find yourself in that same dreamscape. The dream repeats itself. Only this time, the stranger stands closer to you.

This pattern goes on for weeks until one night, you can finally reach the stranger.

The moment your fingers touch his blouse, you pull him for a hug. Why, you do not know. But you can feel a very strong connection to this guy. To your surprise, he hugs you back and the dream ends there

The next night, you find yourself standing right in front of the stranger. There is barely any distance between you two. And you take this chance to look at him carefully. You engrave the man's face in your memory as if he would vanish in front of him if you looked anywhere else. That dream ends there and when you wake up, you draw the man from your dreams as best as possible.

For weeks you continue to see the man. Sometimes under oak trees, sometimes in a majestic garden, sometimes (insert defining cultural place of your own culture). Sometimes speaking of your day, sometimes exploring the dreamscape and sometimes just enjoying each other's silent company. With the tranquil beauty of your dreams, it wasn'r long before you fell in love with this man. You knew it wasn't healthy. But to hell if you gave a damn. Those dreams had become the only this making you feel alive in the monotonous life of our modern world.

While you always felt comfortable around him, you never asked his name or gave yours for that matter. After years of seeing those dreams every night, you decided to take a risk and ask him his name. The man opened his mouth the speak,

"I am-"

Your head buzzed and you felt yourself being thrown and tearing the space-time fabric. Everything felt fuzzy, big, and confusing. So you let your mind fall to darkness.

You wake up in a strange land, surrounded by strange people. They asked you questions but you didn't understand a word from their language. You feared of what the people would do to you seeing you were much taller and different looking compared to them. But as it turn out, these strangely Asian-looking people thought you were some kind of god as you had descended from the heavens when the heavens cried in agony. At least that was what you understood. The people gave you clothes and let you stay, worshipping you as the god of storms. You learned their language with relative ease and lived a good life amongst them.

It felt like your previous world except for the fact that you only ever felt thirsty every few weeks, only ate every four months, and didn't feel the need to sleep until your first year rolled over. The only explanation you could come up with was, that time worked much faster here than in your old world and your body still thought you were back home, in your bed. Despite all the good things about your new home, you couldn't bring yourself to be content and happy as you stopped having dreams of the strange man. No matter how much you tried to suppress it, your heart yearned to be with him again. And it felt like you would find him if you traveled west, across the desert, and into the unknown. That, combined with the precarious political situation regarding the 'god' persona people had created for you, you decided to take all your valuables and flee from these lands. You walked day and night, non-stop for weeks until the first signs of tiredness started to show. Then, you went to the nearest city to rest.

You kept on traveling for years. Traveling so far, and so much was not something anyone ever seemed to have done. Your experiences were absolutely precious for anyone who wanted to know more about the world. So, you purchased a journal and wrote down all about the new people you met on your travels and how they treated you. You wrote all about the scenery and the different cultures you encountered. You learned many languages. You learned so much about the world, and its people and made many precious friends you would not leave had it not been for the yearning of your heart.

And, my dear friends, this is where I ran out of ideas and was left with a vague outline. I would hate to leave you guys hanging, so here is the outline:

Nothing could quiet the yearning of your heart. If anything it got stronger the more you traveled west. After you reached the sea amidst the great desert, you followed the Running River westward. (Only after stopping for fine wine at Dorwinion of course.)

You reach Rhovanion and manage to pass through the forest relatively easily.

You cross the Misty Mountains and reach Rivendell.

You know that Rivendell is where the man in your dreams dwells as your heart soars here.

Then you finally manage to find the man you have been looking for for decades.

You worked up the courage to go and talk about your strange experiences. He was certainly the same man you had been searching for, but he was not himself.

He was fading.

With much time and effort, you manage to bring your elf back to reality.

You and your elf had a nice time living together in Imladris.

Almost every night, the elves of Imladris would come to the Halls of Fire to listen to the stories of your adventures for there were none who traveled so far and wide.

Though you enjoyed your time amongst the elves of Imladris, you ached to travel more before age could bind you to your home.

Though you were aging one day every year, you were still mortal and could still die from illnesses or old age.

You wanted to travel more. Especially after learning that despite being an immortal elf, your elf had never been outside the valley.

After some convincing, you took your elf to travel all across Middle Earth.

The two of you traveled far and wide. To places, no one had ever been before and to places where everyone wanted to go.

It wasn’t like you never traveled before, but this time it was much more exciting and joyous, for you had the love of your life traveling with you.

So, this is it. What do you think? Do you like this scenario? I just had to sprinkle in my previous idea of reader being taller than everyone here. And in case it wasn’t as clear as I hoped it would be, in this story, a year in Middle Earth is a day in our world. Since reader’s body still thinks it is in the modern world, reader would have an average lifespan of 21.900 years if we don’t account for any illnesses. This would give them a lot of time to spend with their elf. But being a human and living so long would have some effect on reader. Maybe they go mad or maybe they commit suicide. For the sake of fluffiness, we will say reader did some extraordinary feat that got the Valar pleased and they were allowed to sail West with their elf.

Also, let’s play a mini guess game. What type of muffin is my favorite? (Hint: I love anything chocolate.)

That was a lot. I liked it though. It is definitely unique and interesting. Reader's travel into Arda is peculiar to me. Did reader's mind and spirit get transported into another body? Did reader completely travel to Arda? Because if it is reader's soul that makes it difficult to age properly in its new body then that makes sense. And who was this mysterious elf from reader´s dreams? It has a lot of mystery which I like. Very good muffin. very good.

A muffin game? No--- I'm bad at those. I could say dark chocolate mixed with licorice due to all the angst you make up. You can make sweet things so white chocolate with strawberries? Or do you just like ordinary milk chocolate? Or do you like chocolate chip muffins? I can't decide. Sorry. Was I close at least?

[seaofolives]

don't have asks open, don't feel like spamming my neighbors here and over at bsky, so we're doing it all under the cut!!!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

according to ao3, 47 works! blessedly few 😌 compared to my previous years, I mean. I did not double check lmao give me proper sql access to ao3 and I can

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

oh man, I'm not really sure. deliberate bad endings I think??? ao3 filter agrees with me

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I've slowed down since, but the honor of this question is gonna have to go to gundam witch! most of them my beloved rare pairs ofc 😌 I'll still write g witch (I have a duty to my rare pair babies) but rn, the ideas have slowed down a bit

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

four! ffxv, g witch, hadesgame and gundam wing 😂

What ships captured your heart?

right so, honorary mention to gladnis who will always capture my everything everywhere. but if I had to do any special mentions, it's absolutely olgue for g witch who I absolutely did not ship until I wrote my first long-form for them And Then. and trkt for gundam wing who are like...gladnis-lite to me for Some Reason o_o

What characters captured your heart?

like just from previous answer, trowa and quatre you know! I still don't know if I have a favorite character in wing, tho Quatre is probably the closest candidate (but I still won't buy commissions and merch of him without Trowa iygwim). but more than him and more than his boyfriend! guel jeturk my gundam son 100% 😌

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

fandom would be gundam wing! ships would be trkt, 2x5, 1x2 and technically 1xr??? for g wing and for g witch, olgue has the sole honor of being mentioned 😂

What fic meant the most to you to write?

I don't really have smth that's like...REALLY personal to me rn but if we're talking like the thing that I put a bit more careful-crafting into, it's either love is stored in the jam or spiracle.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

my god why do I keep answering these things when I never know what to answer in these what-fic questions lmao. BUT UMMM technically all of them??? BUT I will give a shout out to kabilugan ng buwan bc filipino au! manananggals!! funny things you can't translate without losing some of its humor!!!

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

by virtue of the fact that it went on much much much longer than what I expected, just the two of us (which is also what tipped me over to the olgue ship for good).

What fic was the most difficult to write?

HAHA the crying in public chapter of television romance/crying in public mostly bc despite being a gusu lover, the whole chapter is basc a whole load of suletta would absolutely not do that. but also like...the intrigue of putting suletta in a situation where she would Absolutely Do That was more compelling than whatever cheap excuse I can come up with you know??? happy to have done it tho but absolutely won't do this kind of thought experiment any time soon XDDD

What fic was the easiest to write?

in terms of like...the speed in which a fic was published from first word to permalink, what a fool believes was written in like under an hour and shared the next. I also didn't have to cut off any words to hit the 1k mark for the challenge. running up that hill was also p much like that but this one is far more quick and dirty? like I put more thought in what a fool believes than running up that hill. but in terms of like, the speed in which the words flowed out of my hands, I seem to remember developing relationship standing out.

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

shortest fic would be any of the drabbles I have up (all of which are exactly 100 words). longest fic would be hands down just the two of us, my olgue porn with plot fic which stands at 41,494 words 😂 is it any wonder i ship them now—

What were your go-to writing songs?

I can't write with music!! not anymore at least~~~ so actually I really have nothing to answer for this BUT, while I was conceptualizing and writing pull me in closer, this song was my ear worm:

so I took the title from that and worked it in bc it was convenient!

What was the hardest fic to title?

ALL OF IT fuck titles man!!!!! but like, especially with g witch, I never write with any titles or summaries in mind so looking for an old song that fits it (bc I stupidly decided that that was my theme for my g witch fics, hence me dropping that bullshit for gundam wing) is one of the hardest parts. and then with the other fics I just...never come up with anything that's cool and clicks, you know? like "okay, boomer" was the fing working title until I ran out of time, the rest are just puns and memes

What's your favorite title of the year?

probably "developing relationship". it's an ao3 tag, trowa is a developer and this is his and quatre's meet-cute so it's very multilayer????

Share your favorite opening line

man that's like 47 fics in the course of 12 months so I don't have a really good memory when it comes to these things? especially as openers for me are just whatever gets things going you know? but off the top of my head, I thought I really liked this one from if ever you're in my arms again:

Staring at the elevator’s display, a wicked thought asks Suletta: what would she do if the numbers suddenly went right back to 1?

Share your favorite ending line

the first thing that really came to mind here is (i've had) the time of my life which is:

But at least, the light of dawn is warm.

bc i really remember having the ending lines set even while I was just outlining the fic

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

my god

UMMMM

“We’d been together since I joined the Crownsguard…do you realize we would have been together for ten years now if we hadn’t broken up?”

from you. no you. I just like that ignis is being silly even tho he's being serious 🤭

Share your funniest line

OH OK. this one's a bit easier! maybe.

ummmmm

Ares’ laughter is quiet, compared to the noisy whir of electric fans, the tricycles roaring here and there past the open gate, and the radio blasting from the cheap counter at the end of the cramped room, where the lines ‘it’s been raining in Manila’ repeat in eternal damnation.

from okay, boomer. and the song referenced is:

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

off the top of my head, just the amount of words that can go into a manuscript 🤣 so no it didn't change the story bc the story is the reason why I had to write all those words you know XDDD

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

started the year on gdocs but happy to say that I think I've mostly fully migrated to ellipsus!! 🙌🏼 also I never write by hand anymore, that's why my handwriting skills are getting so shitty 😂

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

these questions are so complicated, I never want to answer these questions next year again 😂

prooobably maybe when I finished all my writing challenges for the year? like torokatober2024, assw, spite fest and stuff! it was great getting back into challenges this year but nothing is greater than writing your own ideas you know?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

I finished a fic lately and I said I will do a writing break so I'm gonna try just that!!! tho the goal is to never write again for the rest of the holiday break but uhh...I'm pretty sure I'm going to start smth before this year comes to an end knowing me XDDD

How did you recharge between fics?

this year, I think I really got into the practice of resting more than I wrote and making sure I did other hobbies THO that briefly went wayward with a few gundam wing fics that I was really excited to write 😂

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

gif sets!!! it was so great getting back into them!!!

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

six events! fth, dark and cozy, ficwip5k, torokatober2024, assw and spite fest. I thought about attempting another exchange this holiday season but decided to nope out even before the sign-ups started 😂 I feel like there would be far less for me next year, like I've had my fill this year, you know?

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

good job everyone for making it this far!!! 🙌🏼

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

resting LMAO and a year in review for meee

What would you like to write next year?

man i dunno I'm done making plans lol they never come true anyway XDDD I have ideas I wanna write and I'd like to have the time to write them all, that's all XDDD

well happy new year, everyone!! 🙌🏼 thanks for joining me along the ride this year!! 💖💖💖

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 31

tags : pwp (without plot), porn with feelings (kind of), cum play, creampie, cum eating, really really MESSY sex (like seriously. im WARNING you), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight marking, possessiveness (the needy kind), handjob, slight oral (f), praise, dirty talk, use of pet name "angel". this is generally soft but its uhhh… QUITE filthy whoopsie…, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🥰 i know i haven't been keeping to the masterlist entirely, but i did 100% want to be sure to finish this one req before xavier's birth month ends (and then save the others for my november backlog) 🤍 since the first two fics i wrote for him this month focused on his past selves, i figured it would be apt to end the month with this hehe 🥰🥰 enjooyy~

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

A night under the stars does nothing but solidify his love for you.

It was like stardust.

Speckles of light gathered around his figure, illuminated in such a glow that wouldn't dare allow you to look away. If a few moments ago he'd brought you out for a walk under the stars, that view of the sky was nothing compared to the view in front of you now.

His hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat visible on his skin. The pace he took was nearly relentless—exertion was clear on his features, yet he was beautiful, nonetheless. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he leaned down. Within seconds, your body was littered with kisses, and marks, and everything possible to convey that you were his.

Like a little bunny marking his territory, you thought to yourself with a smile.

And you didn't mind, truly.

You didn't mind that he'd barely kept his hands off of you the moment you'd gotten back to his apartment, practically dragging you with him across the living room, stumbling throught he bedroom door. His hands were all over you—clothes discarded quickly in a trail, and he was desperate. For your touch, your kisses, your—anything. Everything.

It hadn't taken long for you to be pinned against the bed, his hips rolling sinfully against yours—

And he was beautiful.

You didn't mind at all.

"One more, angel… Can you take another one?"

His breath was ragged. There was a low tone to his voice when he spoke, and it brought a zing of pleasure up your body.

So polite.

Despite the way his tip plunged into your walls with wet, sloppy noises… Despite the way you could feel that sting of sensitivity, and despite the sticky mess that had leaked out of you from previous rounds.

If you looked down, you could see a milky white ring coating the length of his cock. The wet sheen was clearly visible as he disappeared again, and again, and again, and again, right into your cunt—it made you dizzy. The sheets of his bed had been absolutely ruined.

He'd filled you up so much, and he hadn't wanted to stop since he'd started—

Yet he was so polite.

And how could you dare to complain when he felt so good?

Lips parting with shallow breaths, you reached out to cradle his face.

Soft, gentle touches.

Soft, gentle… just like the way he looked at you.

You watched his hazy eyes lock with yours, and it was shocking. Even through all that lust, all that want, all that desire—his gaze held so much love for you, never absent in the way he looked at you, never failing to convey… you.

You, you, you.

"Mine."

A whisper croaked into a moan.

"Mine… mine…"

Every thrust drove your hips deeper into his mattress, punctuated by a quiet whisper of the same words.

A chant, almost.

And he nuzzled against your palm, puffs of breath spreading into your hand as he kissed your skin—almost urging you to allow him to take your fingers past his lips.

His.

You watched him do it.

With bated breath, your eyes latched onto the way his tongue ran over your digits, slowly but surely taking them into his mouth. He closed his eyes when he sucked, fucking you to the very same rhythm that his tongue enjoyed the taste of your skin.

His.

"More…" It was your turn to speak, this time.

Wonder laced with your voice as he smiled, pulling away from your fingers.

It was easy, how he directed your gaze downwards, trailing a hand over your skin and pressing over your stomach.

A groan fell from your lips, and he sighed.

"More? When you're so full of me..."

He pulled out so you could see him pulsing, the redness of his tip causing you to clench around physically nothing. It made your heart jump—but that wasn't just it. Your eyes trailed back up to meet his, and the mischief in them had you swallowing thickly.

Watch, came a silent command, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

And you felt it.

Your eyes widened as you watched him cum all over your entrance, the warm liquid pooling over your mound. He fell forward with a moan, pumping his hand, hips bucking forward to brush himself against your sex but never quite doing more than that—

It didn't stay that way for long.

He pushed it right back in with a lewd squelch, barely giving you space to react, and it was enough to pull another orgasm out of you, body arching off the bed with ecstasy.

He didn't stop.

He hadn't stopped, not since all of this had even began.

He'd gather as much of his cum as he could just to stuff it back in; "Mine," he whispered, another quiet chant with every shallow thrust that he could muster, words barely heard over the wet sounds that continued to resound in your head.

He nestled himself back deeply into your sensitive walls before he kissed you.

Lazy thrusts continued to his cum inside you, and he was so—so lost in the pleasure, so much that you could feel it. And the mere thought that he could do that—drown in how much you made him feel—it sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He was being so dirty.

And yet, despite that, the way that he kissed you felt so tender.

Chants of "mine" turned to "i love you".

I love you because you're mine; you're mine because I love you.

You are mine to love.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep, his hips still moving languidly against you. "I love you more," you half-joked, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

He shook his head. "I love you most."

He would leave no room for argument.

His lips ghosted yours, teasing a kiss, before he rest his head beside you, panting against your cheek. "M'lucky to have you. Don't want anything else… Just want you… Just want to stay with you, just… just want us…"

"Mhm, and you have me."

Your hands reached up to run through the soft strands of his hair.

"I have you?"

"You have me," you nodded. And you smiled. "I'm lucky to have you, Xavie. I wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world, and who cares anymore about the stars in the sky when I have you, just as you have me…"

Softly, he laughed, nuzzling against you—

"The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side."

You felt him twitch at your words, and you could have laughed—would have—if he hadn't pulled out of you then.

Anything you had to say for yourself quickly melted into a whine as he started dragging his cock up your body, curling himself into you as he rubbed it against your stomach. You could feel the stickiness of his cum follow through, and with slow, careful breaths, you moved a hand downwards to cage around his length, keeping him between your palm and your stomach, forming a sort of opening for him to rut into.

It didn't take long for his movements to become desperate.

His whole body shuddered on top of you, arms struggling to hold his weight so as not to crush you. His breath stuttered; barely-coherent babbling fell quietly from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head—

He looked so beautiful.

He groaned into the space above your head, fisting the sheets to stay steady, bips moving quicker and quicker and—

Part of you wondered how on earth he could take it—so insatiable. So much desire for you that he couldn't help himself in your presence; he'd let you jerk him off like this and have you bask in the low grunts and whimpers he would let out at the stimulation…

It wasn't long before he was releasing.

You tilted your head to avoid it hitting your face, but truly, you didn't mind—not even as the thick ropes of his cum coated your body, spilling over your breasts, your neck, your chin…

He had so much.

And everytime, you would think to yourself that this was really how far he wanted you.

"Xavier…" you whisper.

And when he collapsed down against you, he slid back down to kiss you sloppily.

Your eyes closed.

Despite the sticky feeling so blatntly obvious between your bodies, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Mmh… love you so much, angel…" he groaned into your mouth, kisses open, and messy, and raw.

I love you, too.

You said it in the way your hands tangled into his hair, even as he slid further down, tongue tracing nearly every inch of your body. "S'dirty, Xav…" your eyes rolled back as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sickling at it before pulling at it with his teeth.

"Mmh. Cleaning."

He tilted his head to meet yours, darkened eyes holding a serious expression—

Your body jolted.

His fingers joined the exploration of your skin, tracing your curves and scooping up his cum only to reach back down and stuff it right into you.

"M-mmph—?!"

Shh— Despite your shock, the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He would have said; It's okay, angel, just let me take care of you.

And slowly, slowly, he traced his tongue down over your stomach, before he sighed.

His head rest against your thigh.

His expression looked light; blissful. He breathed against you, eyes drawn right towards your cunt, watching the cream that oozed out of you with some sense of admiration... He wasn't doing anything, not really—and perhaps to anyone else, he'd simply seem tired.

But you knew that wasn't the case.

You were proven right when, every so often, he would break the spell by shoving his fingers right back into you as if determined to keep you full of him. Each thrust of his fingers was more surprisingly timed than the last, and he was successfully in pulling a gasp from you each time he did so.

"X-Xavierrr…" you whined this time.

"…My pretty angel."

The only reply you'd get was another sigh of seeming satisfaction.

This time, he raised his eyes to look at you, trailing up over your body to your face, and the lovedrunk little smille he have you made you melt.

"Beautiful. The most magnificent, most ethereal star in the sky… Here, with me, mine."

…The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side.

He said it with his eyes. Your own words, right back to you.

But his gaze carried within it a certain mischief—he nuzzled your thigh, and before you could think, he leaned over to place a quick kiss right at your clit. The sudden stimulation where you were so sensitive had you jumping, and his tongue had the audacity to dart out and lap lazily around your folds.

"Hnnh—w-wait! Wait, Xavier, too much, too much—!"

His eyes sparkled.

Oh, he wasn't done with you yet.

"One more round?"

an : stays you know where the title is from right 😉

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[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)

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

This is for the end of year writer fanfic thing! Sorry I do have a few of them, but 10, 16, 24, 35 if you wouldn’t mind awnsering them :)

Oooh, thanks!! And no worries about having a few, I love answering these things, ha. ^-^

I'll put the answers in a read-more since I always write way too much in response to these, ha.

Fanfic Writer End of Year Ask Game

10. What character did you fall in love with this year?

Hmmm... It's hard to say, since most of the media I've consumed this year are continuations of previous series I already loved, so I've not really "fallen" in love with any character I don't think. However! I did gain a much deeper appreciation of Bowser as a character thanks to the movie. I had never thought of him much before, but now I think he's a cool character, ha. I also fell back in love with Loki. I always had a soft spot for Loki, especially after Dark World (which, ironically, was my first Thor movie. I'd seen Avengers before it so I knew the characters, but I'd refused to see Thor with my brother and dad when it came out when I was... 13 I think?), but it wanes whenever Loki media dries up. But season 2 of Loki reignited my love of the character and I hope that he comes back again in a later film. <3

16. What ship stole your heart this year?

Hmmm I also had a few here... Bowuigi is one. BlackBonnet (Blackbeard/Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet from Our Flag Means Death) is another big one. I forget the ship name, but Geralt and Jaskier from The Witcher, to a lesser degree. Currently it's Loki and Mobius from Loki, since they are just so cute together in season 2, it's honestly adorable.

24. Is there a fic you wish you hadn't posted?

Hmm... no, I don't think so! I have a love for all of my fics, even the ones that make me cringe in retrospect. It's why I still keep my old FF . net account around and don't delete my old fics (though I will never link anyone to it!! The writing on the older fics is definitely a product of my age at the time). Part of me wonders if I shouldn't have posted my Bowuigi fic, Luigi and the Beast, since I don't think I'll ever finish it, but I don't regret posting it. Even if I never finish, a lot of people liked it, so it has value for that alone.

35. What words of advice do you have for yourself and other writers?

Honestly? Just write. Write how YOU want to write, not how you think other people want you to write. I always compare my writing to other people's and it is draining to see my writing style after comparing it to others, since mine is very different to what I usually see. I add a lot of introspection and emotion into my fics, since that's what personally interests me, and I always get concerned that people won't like it, or it's not mainstream enough, or whatever. Especially since I write like I think, which includes lots of pauses and emphasis on certain words, which comes across as a lot of... ellipses... and an overabundance of italics that I can't help but notice. Plus, I reuse words and phrases a lot. But honestly? People still like my writing despite it. Hell, some might like it because of it. I've gotten a lot of people who compliment my writing style and say I'm a really good writer, and while I struggle to see myself in that way, it does show that people will like what you do even if you sometimes don't. As long as you are enjoying the writing process and you want to write it, write it. I've tried to censor myself with writing, not using as many ellipses and italics, and you know what? I hated it. It didn't feel authentically me and it made writing a drag sometimes. Once I let go and did whatever, writing was a lot more fun and engaging to me. Is the writing perfect? Hell no. Is the writing uniquely mine and something I wanted to write? Hell yes.

Anyway, thanks for the ask!! I always love answering these things, so thanks for sending some in. :-D

[bingoboingobongo]

complex simplicity pt. ii

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Peacemaker) x Reader

Type: Fluff, angst

Summary: The team finally sets out on their mission, and Adrian deals with the events of last night

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: feminine pronouns used (she/her), angst, bodily injury, blood, descriptions of violence, previous trauma, character death

A/N: hiii, welp. it's finally done. after ten trillion years of constant dread, over three rewrites, and chronic procrastination, she's finally here. my longest fic ever (i think). i hope you like it, i have no idea if there's still an Adrian Chase fandom, but to everyone that has stayed throughout my unofficial hiatus, thank you. as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated, again thank you so much. please enjoy :)

Masterlist

part one

Adrian very rarely felt happy. Although perhaps that was an overstatement. A better way to phrase it, Adrian supposed, was that he very rarely felt the way he felt now: elated; ecstatic; euphoric; like his heart was about to burst out of his chest spewing nothing but love and joy and jubilee all over the room in some passionate, exuberant, macabre scene.

In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt this way. The entire ordeal was entirely unique, Adrian realized. For one, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that could ever compare to the woman nestled into his chest, with her small frown and pursed eyebrows even as she slept. And secondly, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that Adrian would ever want so desperately.

There was no doubt in Adrian’s mind when he realized that nobody — not even Chris, who he admired with his whole being — could ever make him feel as exhilarated as she did. She was, in all ways, one of a kind.

When Adrian woke there was no longer the comforting weight of the coworker he had spent months pining over on his chest, and for a moment he feared the worst. Could the whole thing have been a dream? A cruel concoction created by his brain meant to torment and him? It wouldn’t have been the first time he dreamt about her, and he didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t be the last.

But when he got up, his heart beating out of his chest — for all the wrong reasons now — he realized that familiar scent that always lingered around her was stuck to his skin. That sweet, fresh, intoxicating scent that had a hint of something he could never quite place, had found a home on the planes of his torso, and Adrian realized that if he could, he would’ve bottled the fragrance and sprayed it on every article of clothing he owned so that he could surround himself with her.

“Oh, you’re finally up,” she said, staring at Adrian from the door of the bathroom, and Adrian scrambled to put his glasses on. She was rubbing something on her face, moisturizer or some fancy serum, Adrian guessed, and his mind was flooded with images of him rubbing his hands over her and savoring in the softness of her skin, before he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid his brain of the picture that had been burned into it.

“Uh, yeah. How long have you been up? I mean, I’m assuming it’s been a while, you look pretty great right now. I mean awake. You look awake, not great. I mean, it’s not that you don’t look great, but I feel like it’s weird if I say you look great so I was saying that you look awake. At least, I assume so. Since you’re doing all your makeup or something. Not that you need it. You’re really pretty alrea—”

“Ok, I’m gonna stop you right there before you say something you regret,” she cut in, and despite her light tone Adrian couldn’t get past the slightly critical look she was giving him. “Economos sent me the location,” she said, “get ready. We’re leaving in thirty.”

To his surprise, Adrian got ready surprisingly fast. He figured that considering the events from the night before, as well as the catastrophe of this morning, his neurons would be way too fried for him to even get out of bed, and yet thirty minutes later he was sitting in the driver’s seat of a Dodge Challenger, going sixty miles per hour down a desolate road.

Adrian let out a whistle, “So, what do you think Waller has us doing today?”

“God I hope it’s not aliens,” she sighed, reaching into the back seat for her bag. “But let’s be real, Leota’s press conference stunt did nothing but get us heat from Waller and the rest of the government. Stupid press didn’t even do anything. She’s probably found another deadly alien race that she needs us to kill. God knows we’re expendable enough to her,” she muttered, pulling out a small handgun and loading the clip.

“I don’t know, I enjoyed fighting the butterflies,” Adrian chirped, “plus, it felt super awesome when we told the Justice League that they could suck it because they were dumb weaklings that couldn’t even arrive on time.”

She paused what she was doing to give Adrian a quizzical look, “You didn’t even say anything to them, Chase. Chris was the only one that said anything and all he said was that they were late.”

“Still though,” he pressed, “I’m sure they could understand what I was trying to say. Wanna listen to the radio?”

“Uh, sure. Do they have NPR?” she asked, prompting Adrian to give her a disapproving look. “I’m joking,” she said after a beat, “lord knows your head would explode if you listened to anything other than 90’s bubblegum pop or whatever music Chris listens to. What is it, 80’s metal?”

“Actually, it’s 80’s glam-metal, and it’s amazing. How can you call yourself an 11th Street Kid if you think glam-metal is the same as regular metal?” he scoffed, “I mean, I’ve heard of a lot of insane things over the years, but that takes the cake.”

“What’s even the difference between glam-metal and regular metal anyways? It all sounds pretty similar to me,” she said, her eyes squinted in concentration as loaded the clip on another handgun.

Adrian laughed out loud this time, turning to look over at her with a fake look of shock painted on his face, “Ok, I lied about that last thing. This, this is the most insane thing I have ever heard come out of someone’s mouth. Glam-metal and regular metal are the most different things in the entire world. Chris told me all about it. Regular metal is lame and boring and is made for cowards, glam-metal is ten times better, it’s the most unlame genre ever made, and it’s made for real men. The difference is that glam-metal—”

“Hey, stop here,” she interrupted him as they pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store, “guess you won’t be able to tell me about how amazing glam-metal is. I’m devastated,” she said, climbing out of the car, and even Adrian could pick up on her sarcasm. “Grab your bag, I don’t want to get screwed over if someone tries to steal this car.” With a sigh, Adrian grabbed his bag from the car and slung it over his shoulder as the two of them walked towards the store.

If the half-fallen sign in the front of the building wasn’t enough indication that the place hadn’t been visited for years, the inside was. Shelves were knocked over, trash was piled in corners, and various assortments of canned goods lined the floors.

“Hey, look at this,” Adrian grunted, squatting down to pick a package off the floor, “it’s a pack of beef jerky. Think it’s still good?”

“I- No, Adrian. I do not think floor jerky from an abandoned grocery store is good,” she said incredulously.

But in typical Adrian fashion, the word of his peers was never enough, and so he opened up the years-old package and popped a piece in his mouth. “Hm,” he hummed to himself as he chewed, “you know, it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s a little stale, but given the price I paid for these, I’d say it’s a total win. Want one?”

“Oh my god Adrian,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I- Just come on, We’ve gotta meet the others, I don’t have time to deal with you and your floor jerky.” With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Adrian followed her throughout the derelict store, chewing contentedly on his floor jerky until they reached a small room in the back. She stopped in front of the door, and with a deep breath, gave one sharp rap, followed by two quick ones and one delayed one. The two of them waited in silence for a brief moment before the door opened, revealing Leota by the door, Emilia leaning over a large map, John typing away at his computer, and Chris staring over his shoulder.

“Finally,” John sighed, looking up from his screen, “what took you guys so long?”

“Adrian ate ten year-old floor-jerky,” she explained, which caused a groan from everyone.

“What?” Adrian cried, “jerky is what you eat during the apocalypse, it’s made to be eaten centuries after it’s cooked.”

Leota scoffed, “That is not true, and also there are rats here man. How do you know your floor-jerky wasn’t part of some rat’s dinner?”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna die of plague, that hasn’t killed anyone since the year 200, Adebayo. And if I were to catch it, I could probably just sleep it off,” Adrian said, chuckling.

“Dude, you can’t just sleep off plague,” Chris butted in.

“Uh, I totally could,” Adrian persisted.

“Dude,” John said, “it’s plague.”

“Ok we get it,” she cut in, silencing Adrian with a look that only encouraged the butterflies in his stomach, “Adrian’s stupid and he’s probably gonna die. What else is new? Now can we figure out what the hell is going on with this mission?”

Emilia looked up from the map, passing out dossiers to each member of the team. “Ten weeks ago, the President’s secret service arrived in Maine to secure a location the president would be speaking at,” she explained, pointing to a circled area on the map. “Within the hour, all five agents were found dead on the scene. First responders noted a single gunshot right between the eyebrows on each agent, ballistics assuming that they were shot long-distance, presumably a sniper.”

“Wait, they’re assuming?” Chris asked, looking up from the file, “these nerds spend all day analyzing bullets and they can’t even find out what gun the bullet is from?”

“Well these ‘nerds’ are the only people we have so don’t complain,” Emilia said, “besides, it’s pretty hard to analyze a bullet when there aren’t any.”

“Wait,” Adrian said slowly, “so whoever shot them took the bullets back after they were done?”

“Hey, what’s this?” she asked, and her voice sounded like a symphony to Adrian’s ears. “The autopsy report stated that the cause of death was batrachotoxin? What in the world is that? And does this mean the shots were done post-mortem?”

“Batrachotoxin,” John started, bringing his laptop over to the center of the table, “is an insanely powerful neurotoxin found on, get this, the skin of poison dart frogs. Get less than a gram of this stuff into your bloodstream, and in less then ten minutes you’ll be suffering from paralysis and then death.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense,” Chris started.

“Exactly,” Emilia cut in, “if the toxin was already gonna kill them, why bother shooting them?”

“Oh, that’s not what I was talking about,” Chris said, “I was talking about the thing Economos said. How do you suffer from death? You can’t be suffering from death because you’ll already be dead.”

“Ok, it’s a figure of speech,” John said.

“Yeah, a dumb one,” Chris said, chuckling, “you know John, I was actually starting to think you were smart when you were talking about all that poison stuff but then this?”

“Hey screw you!” John yelled, although his protest was diminished by Chris’ roars of laughter.

“Ok, everyone shut up!” Emilia yelled, clenching her fists together. “We’re not done here yet, keep your egos in check until we’re done, got it?” she asked, “good. Now, since then, secret service agents have been dying the same way whenever they go to scout out a new location. It’s always the same situation: death by batrachotoxin, a post-mortem bullet to the head with no bullet, no witnesses, suspects, or evidence.”

“So, what are we doing here?” Adrian asked.

“At 5 this afternoon, the secret service is supposed to scout out an outdoor speaking event for the president. Waller wants us to arrive beforehand and see if there’s anyone suspicious who may be our guy. In the event that we do see him, Waller has been very insistent that we do not kill him? Understand?” Emilia asked, eyeing Chris and Adrian.

“Hey, why are you looking at us?” Adrian whined.

“Because you’re not exactly Mahatma Gandhi, and if we kill our guy, Waller will kill us.”

“The deaths coincide with dates the president is supposed to talk about his new anti-nuclear weapon policy, is it possible this is a rival politician trying to stop the president from talking about his new policy?” Leota asked.

“That’s our current lead,” Emilia explained, “Economos has been looking into politicians that disagree with the president’s policy, we’ve been tracking their comings and goings, looking into their communications, and trying to find anything that might lead to our guy. However, given the fact that we were assigned this mission two nights ago and the concerningly large number of politicians that want more nukes, we’ve barely been able to get through anything.”

“You said the senator was coming in right Harcourt? That’s why our hotel was so booked up. And this poison has to be coming from somewhere, poison dart frogs are native to central america right? So shouldn’t we be checking whether or not any of these guys have made repeated trips down to the border? I mean, getting this stuff through customs can’t be easy,” she pointed out, and when Adrian looked over at her, he had to physically stop himself from staring at her for too long.

“You’re right. Economos, check that out. For now, Leota and John will stay at the hotel and research our politicians. The rest of us will go to the location and try and see if we find anyone. This,” Emilia explained, pointing to another circle on the map, “is where the president will be speaking. Me and Chris will be watching the park and the two of you will surveill the forest behind it. If these shots were done by a sniper, the forest would be a good place to do it.”

Adrian sucked in a sharp breath, he was nervous, to say the least. “Hey Harcourt?” he asked, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Emilia sighed, but she let Adrian pull her aside while the rest of the team continued to look through the case files. “What do you need, Chase?” she asked with a sigh.

“I’m not trying to be uncool or anything but do you think it’s possible that I could go with Chris instead? It’s just that we’ve got a real ‘Bert-and-Ernie’ vibe and I think it would be good for the mission.”

Emilia sighed, “Bert and Ernie? Like from Sesame Street?”

“Wait, that’s where it’s from?” Adrian asked incredulously, “I thought Bert and Ernie were just some really good friends from like 1934 or something, and then they were just known throughout town as being really good friends, and so when someone else wanted to prove how good of friends they were with someone else, they would just say that they had a Bert and Ernie friendship, since Bert and Er—”

“Ok shut up Chase,” Emilia demanded. “Is this about your weird little crush on her?” she asked, gesturing over to where she currently sat, rifling through the dossier with that familiar crinkle in her brow.

Adrian scoffed loudly, “Please, what? Crush? Who- Who said I had a crush on her? Please, that’s- How old am I? Twelve? I don’t… I don’t like her.”

Emilia stared at him, her lack of belief in his statement clear on her face. “Well then, if you don’t like her then you should be fine working with her,” she said, turning away from Adrian with a shake of her head. “But Adrian?” she said, turning back to face him, “if you mess this up because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, Waller won’t be the only woman looking for your head.”

“Got it,” Adrian said awkwardly, although Harcourt had already walked away from him. Puffing air out of his lips, Adrian walked over to where his roommate and subsequent heartstopper was standing. He allowed himself to admire her focused stare for a second before he cleared his throat. “So…” he started, swinging his hands around. “Guess we’re gonna be partners… again,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “Just… two normal coworkers… working together… no weird feelings. I mean, of course there’s no weird feelings, I don’t even have feelings like I said last night, which was a totally normal night where nothing happened, definitely not during the middle of the night when you were sleeping… so should we go to the car?” he said, after clocking her stare.

“You’re acting really weird Chase,” she said, looking him up and down. “Let’s just get this done alright?” she said, slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder. Adrian watched her walk away for a moment before following her, but before he could Chris stopped him.

“Dude, just admit it, you like her,” Chris said.

“Psh, uh- wha- huh? I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about Chris, I have no feelings towards her at all, and definitely not love feelings,” Adrian spluttered frantically.

“Jesus Christ you’re hopeless Adrian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that anyone with two eyes and half a brain can tell that you’re way into her dude. And I don’t mean that you just like her romantically, you’re pretty much in love you idiot.”

“Ok, that’s just not true Chris,” Adrian protested, although he had to admit that he had thought about it, “you should know better than anyone else that love? That’s just not the Vigilante-way. You and I? We put criminals to sleep and take their women to bed. We don’t get hung up on love or relationships or dreaming about owning a two story house with a white picket fence or a New York apartment or whatever housing situation our lover likes the best because they’re the most important thing to us and we would do anything to make them happy. No, the only people you and I are interested in is criminals, and murdering them. I know your time in Belle Reeve changed you and now you’re like this peace-loving hippie that doesn’t want to kill anyone and has crushes on people, but that’s not me. That’s not Vigilante. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go join my work partner on a very normal drive which I will very much enjoy because she is my coworker, and the only feelings I have towards her are respect and friendship.”

Chris shook his head. “Whatever you say man,” he said, giving Adrian a hard clap on the shoulder and sending him away.

“Sorry about that,” Adrian said as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

“About what?” she asked, flexing her hands against the steering wheel.

“Well- Chris had to talk to me about… something, so that’s why I took so long to come out.”

“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t notice.”

The two of them didn’t say much after that; she stared silently ahead at the road in front of them while Adrian gazed out the window, his eyes only flickering over to her occasionally. He wasn’t sure why but there was something off about her now. She was a naturally stoic and silent person, he knew — after all it was one of the reasons why he was so obsessed with her — but there was something else beneath her constrained quietness. A difference in the air around her; usually it felt calm, serene, still. But now, he could almost sense something disturbed about it. As if her stony facade were a smooth pond that had been marred by outward-moving rings of concentric circles, and yet what had caused the disturbance was still unknown, its very nature hidden away in the depths of the water.

It was then that Adrian thought back to the night before. He mulled over their conversations, choosing to skip over his many social errs and follies, when he remembered something that had struck him as odd when he heard it. “What did you mean when you said the bed was ‘too big’ last night?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“What did you mean when you asked Harcourt for a new partner?” she countered immediately, and to his surprise Adrian could feel a hint of emotion deep underneath her words, although the exact one was still unknown to him.

“I- That- It wasn’t what you think it was,” he tried to explain.

She chuckled dryly. “Is working with me really so horrible?” she asked, but Adrian could still sense that foreign emotion nudging at the edge of her words, yearning to free itself from its prison.

“No! No, not at all! It’s the opposite of that really,” Adrian said hurriedly. “It’s just that- I- You- I think… I think that you and I… I’m worried that we’re not… compatible? And… I guess that I’m just worried that you think I’m… you know,” he said, mumbling the last part.

“You’re what?” she asked, looking over at him, “weird? Annoying? Way too talkative?”

Adrian sighed, nodding glumly as he looked out the window. To his annoyance, it was ironically bright outside. The sun shining brightly overhead, there were no clouds in the sky, and the trees were rife with leaves as green as shamrocks. It looked like a scene from an oppressively happy movie — one that would be filled to the brim with cheesy romance, choreographed musical numbers, and shallow conflict that would be resolved in minutes. In other words, the exact opposite of his life.

“You’re right, I guess,” she said, her voice growing smaller now. “I do think you’re weird and annoying and way too talkative, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t really mind, and I don’t really mind… working with you,” she said, her voice now so quiet that it was barely above a whisper.

And it was then that the wool was finally pulled off Adrian’s eyes and he could see with startling clarity what he had missed before. The object that had disturbed the smooth pond of her aura, the hidden emotion that lurked beneath her words, he knew what it was now. He held it on the forefront of his mind and the tip of his tongue.

Betrayal.

She had overheard him asking for a partner change and she had felt hurt, she had felt offended, she had felt betrayed. And Adrian couldn’t have been more joyful. After what seemed like eons of searching for answers, for clues, anything that could’ve tipped the scales ever-so-slightly in his favor, he had found the very thing that would solve all his problems. Proof. Real, physical, audible proof that came out of her mouth that she cared. She cared about what he thought of her, even more, she enjoyed working with him. In all ways, it was a success, and Adrian had to fight to stop himself from bursting into giddy laughter right then and there.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked him, the betrayal no longer in her voice but instead replaced by something Adrian believed — hoped, really — to be playfulness.

“Nothing,” he said coyly, his smile growing impossibly bigger. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better I would say that you liked me,” he teased, grinning at her.

She glared back at him, but this time Adrian figured it held slightly less contempt that normal, “Say something stupid like that again and I’ll shoot you right now, got it Chase?” she threatened.

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled, “like you’re gonna murder the love of your life.”

“Good god,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she redirected her attention back to the road.

When they arrived at the location there was nothing particularly absurd about it. It was a medium-sized field of green grass surrounded by a ring of forest behind it. There was a podium in the center of the field, its body covered by a banner of the President’s face, the background of which was covered with patriotic reds and blues. In front of it were rows upon rows of folding chairs, and behind the podium were six American flags, the cloth hanging limply in the windless air.

“Come on,” she sighed, “Harcourt says we have to surveill the forest so we better get set up.” The forest seemed to be well over a mile away from where they stood, and so with a groan Adrian grabbed his things and followed behind her.

The trek to the forest was tedious at best. By then, the sun was directly overhead and its suffocating rays beat down at them insistently. Adrian could feel his body begin to drip with sweat as they trudged towards the forest, which seemed to only grow further and further away. To take his mind away from the torrid atmosphere, he focused on the person in front of him. The way her hair jolted every so slightly as she walked. The resoluteness of each step she took, as if each was carefully planned to take her further. The way she had finally admitted to him that she had some sort of feelings towards him, even if her voice was so quiet he worried that he may have imagined it.

With his focus diverted to her, the arid walk to the forest seemed irrelevant, like an after-thought, and before long they were standing on the edge of the trees. It was here Adrian realized that what he thought had been a densely packed area of trees was really nothing of the sort. In reality, the forest was quite sparse and exiguous; in fact, if you looked up the sky was startlingly visible. Its cloudless, turquoise expanse looming over them.

“Well, shall we go in m’lady?” he asked, sweeping his hand outward. She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath but she went in regardless.

As she walked in, Adrian realized that they were sorely under-resourced for this kind of mission. The forest was impressively large, and even if it was relatively devoid of trees and shrubs, it would still take hours to search it completely. “Hey,” Adrian said, reaching for her shoulder to stop her from diligently soldiering on, “How are we supposed to find someone in here? This place is huge.”

She paused, scanning their surroundings, “You’ve got a point Chase,” she admitted, “I guess our best option would be to split up and look around, maybe find a vantage point a sniper might like. From there, if we don’t find them I guess we can find somewhere to meet up.” Adrian nodded slowly, although he was too preoccupied being upset that they would have to split up to truly understand what she was saying. She continued again, “I’ll radio Harcourt to tell her the plan, you go west, I’ll go east. We’ll walk to the edge of the forest and from there converge in the north. Check out high points and anything suspicious, if we find anything, radio each other. This guy is definitely a professional, so don’t engage unless we’re both there, or unless you’re one hundred percent sure that you can neutralize him without killing him. Remember, if he dies, Waller will make sure we do too. Got it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Adrian said, “hey if you want, I can go east. I was just thinking that there are more trees eastward and since I have a helmet and you don’t I’m sure you could use the shade. Plus, this suit is insulated so it’s like a meat freezer in here, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh, gross,” she said, “but whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

Adrian nodded enthusiastically in response, but by then she had already turned her back to him, the duffel bag of gear swinging as she slowly disappeared into the trees. With a sigh, Adrian readjusted the strap of his own duffel bag and turned towards the expanse he was to explore.

For the most part, his scouting was relatively uneventful. Occasionally, he would hear a rustle of leaves or a snapped twig, but when he went to check it out it would be nothing but the wind or a small animal. He spent most of the time lost in his thoughts, consumed by the hurricane of events that had preceded what he was doing now. The hotel room, the cuddling, the confession; just a few hours ago he had felt abandoned. Like the earth and the sky and everyone else was leaving him, off to live their happily ever afters without him.

But then, she had said those magical words, and Adrian’s world changed. No longer had he been left behind; now he was one with the earth and the sky and everyone else. He was one of them, ready to live out his own happily ever after with her. He repeated her words over and over in her head like a mantra, I don’t really mind working with you, he whispered to himself, taking steps in tandem with his words.

I don’t really mind working with you. One step.

I don’t really mind working with you. Two steps.

I don't really mind work—

“Chase,” he heard, the staticky chatter of the radio pulling him from his thoughts. “I think I see him, I just sent you my loca—” But then her voice was interrupted by a sickeningly familiar sound. One that rooted Adrian to his spot and sent chills cascading down his spine. A brief whistle of air followed by a startling crack as loud as a firework.

A gunshot.

Adrian began to panic. A gunshot was bad, very, very bad. She hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest. He had convinced her earlier that it was a needless precaution. It was dangerously hot outside and it would only slow them down. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to take him down alone.

By now they had to have been at least a mile away from each other. Even if he sprinted it would take him at least eight minutes to get there, and he wasn’t sure she had that long. For all he knew he could she could be dead.

That thought startled him into clarity, and in his newfound rationality he dropped the duffel and began running back where he came, digging furiously through his belt for his phone. Her coordinates only brought more bad news. Like he suspected, she was over a mile away. If she had been shot in the heart — which wouldn’t be unexpected, considering how good of a shot their suspect was — she would probably have died by now. A shot to the abdomen wasn’t good either. A few more minutes and she would be dead.

For now, Adrian could only cling onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t been the one to get shot. Maybe she shot him, or it was just a hunter somewhere miles away. Anything other than face the possibility that he may never see her again.

While he was running — branches scratching at his arms and rocks digging into his shoes — he came to another terrifying realization. Like him and Chris, she had a life outside of this. A life that he didn’t know, and that didn’t know him. She had other friends and other coworkers, and there was a frighteningly real chance that if she did die, he would never make it to her funeral. He would never be able to say his final goodbye. Never be able to at least cling onto her palm, no matter how cold it was, and tell her that he always loved her and that he’d never get over her.

And then with a shiver he realized it was all his fault.

He had been the one to convince her to take off her vest. He had been the one to propose they switch sides. He had been the one to make her life hell these past days. With his incessant pestering and teasing and blabbering. He should’ve been the one coming face-to-face with their sniper. His suit was already bulletproof, there would be no harm to him. She would come for back-up, they’d take him down, and maybe Adrian would even ask her out.

And now he wouldn’t even have the chance.

Adrian kept running throughout the forest. It was all he could do. All he knew how to do. One foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Just like she had done just hours before when they were entering the forest. Just like she had before she fell victim to its cruel inhabitant.

His mind would’ve only spiraled further if his thoughts hadn’t been interrupted. From his belt, his radio began to chirp its small, static song. Without slowing down, Adrian pulled at the radio, holding it close to his ear to hear what was coming out.

“Where are—”

“Hel—”

“He got aw—”

“Tell Har—”

He could hear her voice crackling in and out of the receiver. Her voice was small and croaky. As if every word was strenuous and difficult. It did, however, bring a glimmer of hope. If she was strong enough to click the button of the radio and strong enough to lift it to her face, then there was a chance that she would be strong enough to hold on a little longer.

“Just wait,” he whispered into the radio, more of a plea than a request. “Please god, just wait. Please. Please. Please. You can’t go. Don’t go,” he babbled, realizing that tears had begun to stream down his face, soaking the inside of his mask. He kept rambling into the radio as he ran, not really knowing what he was saying and not really caring either.

After what seemed like a painfully long time, Adrian arrived at her location: a brief clearing near a cliffside. For a moment he couldn’t find her, and his heart was seized with panic and fear. The sight was unsettlingly macabre. In the center was a haunting trail of sticky blood. The crimson liquid tainting the green grass beneath it. His eyes traced up its winding path until he saw her, slumped over against a tree.

Her hands laid on either side of her, their palms facing the sky. The sight of her reminded him of biblical paintings he saw during his childhood. Jesus, his palms up to the sky, praising the Lord and readying himself to ascend to the heavens. It also reminded him of a sacrifice. As if someone had propped her up against the tree to sacrifice to some cruel god. Although, Adrian supposed, it was clear now that all gods were cruel. Cruel because they let her get hurt. Cruel because they made it his fault. Cruel because they made him love her.

He realized then that he hadn’t moved since entering the clearing and so he hastily rushed over to her. His hands fumbled and shook as he reached for her wrist. It was limp and pliable in his grip, but he could ever so faintly feel the whisper of a pulse. “Come on,” he whispered to her, “wake up. Come on. Wake up. Come on. Wake up.” Over and over again he repeated this, although it worked more to calm him than to stimulate her.

The first thing he needed to do was stop the bleeding. And yet, there was so much blood that he could barely tell where it began. At that point, his hyperventilating had begun to fog up his helmet, and so he lifted it off so he could care for her, frantically shoving his glasses onto his face. The lack of his helmet, however, made everything seem so much worse. With the red tint of his visor no longer there to mask some of the damage, he was forced to face the extent of her wounds head-on.

Clenching his hands into balls, he took a shaky breath to steady himself. Carefully, he began to feel around her abdomen, caressing the smooth canvas of her skin until he found it. The divot of a gunshot. As far as he knew it hadn’t hit anything vital, although he worried that it was dangerously close to her spinal cord.

Adrian swiveled around, searching for the duffel bag. It would have first aid in it, gauze, bandages, painkillers, but it was nowhere to be found. He realized that their mystery sniper had most likely taken it, and then he remembered why they had the duffel in the first place. The mission. Quickly, he grabbed the radio off of his belt, cursing as he fumbled wildly with the controls until he could tune into Harcourt and Chris’ frequency.

“Help,” he said frantically. “Help. Help. We need help. She got shot. I’ll send you our coordinates, just get help,” he said, too frenzied to add anything more.

He had to stop the bleeding. He had to find something that he could use to wrap it, to apply pressure. There was no duffel, no gauze, no bandages, so did the only thing he could think to do. He started undressing. As fast as he could he started shedding his gear, cursing his past self for adding so many layers.

After a frustratingly long time, he was finally left in a long-sleeve black shirt. Hastily, he ripped a large piece off the bottom and prepared to lift her. Adrian sat down next to her, and trying to be as careful as possible, slowly lifted her into his lap so that her head was resting on his leg. From this position, it was much easier for him to navigate her body. For him to carefully and tightly wrap the strip of cloth around her waist. For him to gently wipe some of the hair off of her bloodied face. For him to grip onto her hand and whisper that everything would be alright.

But there was too much blood, he realized. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible to lose such a large amount of blood from one gunshot, which meant there had to be another. He looked back at the trail of blood. She was the strongest person he knew, if she dragged herself to the tree he knew it would be because she had to. With a bout of clarity, he began scanning her legs until his eyes rested on another wound.

This gunshot was located on her thigh, just above her knee. It was slowly spitting up blood, the liquid oozing out in small rivulets. Cursing under his breath, he fished a knife out from his belt and, carefully, cut away the cloth around it. He hastily peeled off his shirt so that he could construct a tourniquet and began to tie it around her leg, just above the wound.

Adrian held his breath as he watched the wound on her leg. To his relief, it had slowly stopped bleeding, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, stroking some hair off of her forehead, “I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me, this is all my fault.”

Then, for some reason Adrian couldn’t understand, he was overwhelmed with the urge to be close to her. And very carefully, he lifted her from where she lay and pulled her close to him so that her back was against his chest.

In these moments while he waited for the team to find them, it was quiet. With her against him, Adrian felt oddly peaceful. He felt placid. He felt as if he were floating in the middle of an ocean. He let himself be buoyed by the waves, opened himself up to the gentle lull of their movement. And so because he was very tired — after all he had been through so much already — he let himself close his eyes. He let himself dream.

He dreamed that they were in Paris, sitting on a balcony and watching the sun set. Her, leaning against him like she was now, and him with his arm around her waist, stroking the plane of her side tenderly. Once the sun set, they would stare with awe and amazement at just how quickly the city transformed. How it became bright and vibrant. How the Eiffel Tower lit up the night sky. She would stare up at him, and in her eyes would be a twinkle so bright and loving that it would outshine every other light in the city.

Or if they weren’t in Paris, perhaps they were in the Bahamas. Where the sky was always clear and the ocean was always blue. Where the sun was always shining, but not as forcefully as it had before. Instead, the sun’s rays would be gentle, a delight instead of a torment. They would be sitting along the beach, the sand nestled in between their toes, and Adrian would smile lazily down at her, and she would smile back.

By the time she woke up, Adrian had been in the hospital for over a day. They had been lucky though. The team had found them quickly and their sniper was caught fleeing the scene. The surgery went smoothly, and when it was done the doctors informed that team that had the bullet had narrowly missed her spinal cord as well as several internal organs. She would be in a coma, they told him, due to her severe blood loss but she would be awake again soon.

Adrian didn’t consider that lucky though. Luck was not getting shot in the first place. Luck was never being assigned to this wretched mission at all. Luck was being able to live your life without worrying about which government official was going to risk your life for some stupid political campaign.

He couldn’t help but be mad. At the sniper, at the team, at himself. It was all so preventable. If he had just pushed Harcourt a little further for a new teammate. If he had just kept his mouth shut instead of suggesting they switch sides. If he had just gotten there a little bit faster or tied the tourniquet a little bit tighter.

“I said the bed was too big because of something that happened before I joined the team,” she said, her voice small and raspy, and Adrian looked up. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed her stir from her hospital bed.

“What?” he asked, too shocked to say anything else.

“A few years ago,” she said, letting out a deep sigh, “I was an A.R.G.U.S. agent. I was young and dumb and reckless and I became friends with a fellow agent, Jason. One day, we were working a mission. We were in a big clearing and I was stupid and walked right in without checking for traps. It was a set-up of couse, and I got shot.” Adrian took in a sharp breathe at this, but she waved her hand dismissively and continued. “It wasn’t bad, just nicked my arm.”

“But Jason had followed me, and he wasn’t so lucky. He got shot in the chest, and before I knew it he was on the ground. It was a terrible feeling. We were like some dumb animal, wandering straight into a trap where we could just be plucked off one by one. I had no shield, no cover, nothing. There were bullets flying around me and I didn’t know what to do.

“I wasn’t thinking straight and so I did the first thing I could think of and ran back where I came from, leaving Jason behind. Once I was in the forest, I could see what happened to him. He had been shot more times than I could count. None of them fatal, which is worse. Eventually the bullets stopped, but I couldn’t go back out there. I watched, less than six feet away as one of my best friends choked to death on his own blood. All because of me.

“I remember what it felt like attending his funeral. It was in a cathedral. The ceiling was so high and the whole place was so open. It reminded me of when he died. Of the openness, of the vulnerability, of the shame.

“I realized then why A.R.G.U.S. tells you not to befriend any of your coworkers. It’s because you get close to them. And when they inevitably die, you obsess over it. And they were right. I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about how scared I had been, and how scared Jason must have been. I was able to get away relatively unharmed, but Jason’s body had been mutilated so badly the funeral had to be closed-casket.”

“That’s why you dragged yourself to the tree,” Adrian whispered quietly.

She nodded, and there was a hint of sadness behind her smile. “Why’d you tell me this?” Adrian asked softly, “I mean, I appreciate it but, it’s not exactly ‘in-character’ for you.”

She laughed lightly, “Well you saved my life out there Adrian. If it weren’t for you I would just be another Jason. I owed you one, and now my debt is repaid.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time,” he whispered, reaching out tentatively to grab her hand.

She let him grab it, and when he did she squeezed it back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a terrible teammate.”

“Don’t say that, you’ve been perfect. You’re perfect,” he said.

Adrian smiled at her, and she smiled back. Once Adrian had considered her an enigma. A mystery. An equation waiting to be solved. But here in the hospital, with its fluorescent bulbs humming lightly and the dull buzz and whirs of the machines, he realized that she was anything but. At the end of the day, she was just a girl — a person, like him — who was scared. Who was haunted by the ghosts of her past. Who was more comfortable locking things away than presenting them freely. Who would rather be seen as someone intimidating and formidable than caring and emotional. And it was so simple, he realized, the basis of her being. Her motives, her desires, her wants. They were basic. They were human.

And yet as simple as they were, there was a layer of complexity to them. There was a layer of complexity to her. In a way, she reminded him of a bank vault. The mechanics of the door — the locks, the screws, the bolts — were intensely complicated. They were purposely designed to be impenetrable. Each facet was orchestrated so carefully so that the treasures inside would never be seen without the right password.

But now, Adrian had the right password. And when he was finally able to get past the vault's solid doors and view the treasure inside, he could finally appreciate just how beautifully simple it was. The luxuries inside were akin to diamonds, both in beauty and personality.

Like a diamond, she too had experienced a life of suffocating pressure. Pushing down farther and farther on her until finally, she did not crack, but instead became an impeccable jewel. A stone, unrivaled in its beauty and worth, with not even the slightest impurity to desecrate it. A diamond was beautiful because it was perfectly simple, just like her.

And it was this limbo, this teetering balance of complex simplicity that she was so comfortable in, that had drawn Adrian, like a moth to a flame, into her. It was this limbo that had allured him so intensely, so powerfully, that he could not bear to turn away. And it was in this limbo, Adrian knew, that he loved her, and that he would always love her. For he had become hers. And he knew this because his heart, his soul, and his livelihood had become clutched tightly in her grasp.

And while he watched her smile at him, her eyebrows finally uncreasing, he hoped that whatever god was out there would not be so cruel as to make her let go.