#i am actually buzzing with excitement rn
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
inhales
CHONGYUUUUUUUUN
#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo,ide yo !!#i am actually buzzing with excitement rn#like#LOOK AT HIM#THAT'S MY SON RIGHT THERE
0 notes
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ➛ miss diaz (fa14)
with fernando's new appreciation of tik tok, fans begin to wonder where he's getting the ideas from, until he ends up racing alongside his previously unknown daughter... who is already a driver, and in her twenties.
warnings/notes: fernando my dad fr, this is the silliest little fic i loved making it?? I have never written this man and i regret it hes so silly, quite short and sweet, i might make this a verse? idk. i have too many series' rn, but if people like it ...
faceclaim: none :D!
"Ay, papá, ¡no! [You're gonna get yourself hurt!]"
The Alonso house was never quiet. This was something your mother had come to realize long ago. But now she was concerned. What the hell could you and Fernando be doing that would lead to him getting hurt? Despite your insistence of being well mannered and quiet, your mother knew you could tend to get up to the same level of quirkiness as your father.
It didn't help you were smashing records in Formula 1 Academy, racing alongside women like Lia Block and the Al Qubaisi sisters, all while hiding your identity.
Someone had bashed it into you at twelve you'd only be known as Little Alonso if you continued racing under your fathers name, hence why you had insisted you dropped Alonso and continued with Diaz.
Which you did... after six months of convincing your father.
Who is currently shouting, "I'll be fine, ¡bebita!"
"You have old bones!" Is your remark as your mother gets up from where she's tending to the online store she runs for her business. Sort of like a branch out of her Etsy store. She made really nice custom embroidery on top of her working for a media company that outsourced and trained employees for PR teams.
"I'm not that old!" Fernando's shout makes her laugh into her hand as she steps into the kitchen to see you've got a whole plethora of items out and around you.
"What are you two doing..?" She hums, leaning on the doorframe and watching as both you and Fernando turn to her like deer in headlights.
And then you smile, "Papá wants to make a Tik Tok."
Verónica laughs, watching as her husband attempts to tape his phone to the ceiling fan and she puts her hands up and walks out of the room with a quick sentence over her shoulder, "[I'm not explaining this to Aston Martin!]"
fernandoalonso
liked by missdiaz, astonmartinf1, veronicadiaz, and 683k others...
fernandoalonso: race weekend monaco edition 💚
user1: whos teenage daughter ghost wrote this caption?? how old is ur social media admin nando.
veronicadiaz: mi vida <3
⤷ fernandoalonso: mi corazón <3
⤷ user2: PARENNNTSSS
user3: i love my grid dad fr
missdiaz: youngest rookie on the grid!!
⤷ fernandoalonso: rookie of the year!
⤷ user4: yn and nando interaction. my heart is FULL!!
missdiaz
liked by astonmartinf1, f1academy, fernandoalonso, and 348k others...
missdiaz: monaco pit stop <3
astonmartinf1: thats our favorite academy driver!!
⤷ missdiaz: love u am xx
user1: mother is mothering fr
fernandoalonso: rookie of the year!!
⤷ missdiaz: youngest rookie on the grid!!
⤷ user2: nando become her grid dad pls i beg
user3: shut up shes in monaco.
user4: SO PRETTYYY
You read the headline for a third time, 'F1 Academy driver Y/N Diaz to replace ill Lance Stroll for the Monaco GP.'
There's a happy buzz in the Aston Martin garage, even with Lance being terribly ill this weekend. He'd still shown up in full support of his team, but was too woozy to actually get in the car. Too much of a risk. So, Aston Martin had called on you, and you were genuinely excited to race. So your father escorts you into the garage with a tiny proud smile, and all of Aston Martin knows who you actually are.
But media does not. Neither do some of the other drivers.
Hence how you end up talking with Lando during a press event, and when he gives you a soft smile and edges around asking your age, you have to poke your father's thigh to keep him from commenting on it. Lando has no idea he's blatantly flirting with you in front of your dad, but across from him Lewis is trying not to burst into laughter.
"I feel like I'm missing something." Lando says when the reporter comments on the eyes you, Lewis, and Fernando are giving each other. You look at Fernando and he nods,
"Yeah go for it, hermosa." Fernando taps your knee and you smirk, leaning on your fathers shoulder as you say,
"So my full name is Y/N Diaz Alonso, but I go by Diaz because y'know, my dad's got a pretty good legacy--"
"You're his daughter?!" Lando shouts and the audience starts screaming. Lewis is in practical tears with how hard he's laughing and Fernando's laughing as well. Lando curses, "Shit, man!"
"No hard feelings, man." Fernando reaches over to pats Lando's shoulder, who looks like he'd rather sink into the floor and die than be seen right now. Lewis is literally in tears.
"The fact Nando managed to keep this a secret for so long is unsurprising to me," Lewis says, "I mean, I knew because she was young when I first got to F1 and a lot of the older drivers know--plus Max, I think, because of the Piquets."
"Funnily enough," You giggle into the back of your hand, "Mark Webber's my godfather."
"Really?!" The reporters eyes widen and you nod.
"He's a bad influence, truly. Him and Jenson, oh and Seb, they were teaching me curse words at like four years old." You grin and Fernando laughs, now happily laying his arm across your shoulder to tug you to his side.
"And honestly, she's just like me at her age, so the boys on the track might wanna watch out." Fernando sends a pointed glance to Lando that has you whacking your fathers chest with a giggle.
"I'm more like him in the sense of goofy Renault celebrations Fernando, not like "I knew he'd brake because he has a wife and kids at home" Fernando." You clarify, but a knowing glance from Lewis has you shrugging while your father sits in smug confidence that his daughter will be fine.
And you would be. You were closer to the comments than the celebrations in actuality. Though, you'd never admit that.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula one fic#fernando alonso fanfic#fernando alonso fic#fernando alonso fanfiction#fernando alonso smau#f1 smau#formula one smau#nicole wrote this
903 notes
·
View notes
Note
Idk if you saw that interview where Hugh was like "I don't have a safe word I want to keep going" but something where it's actually giggly sex 😭
A/N: i hope you like this cuz idk if it turned out the way you wanted but here you go <3 ill add details later cuz its 4 am rn and im tired
The day had been buzzing with excitement as you prepared for the big interview. Hugh and Ryan, ever the dynamic duo, were scheduled to promote their latest film, and you knew it was going to be a mix of sharp wit and hilarious banter. As you stood behind the camera, you watched the two of them take their places, standing side by side. Hugh wore a mint-green polo shirt, his posture relaxed and his face lit up with a broad smile. Ryan, in contrast, had a more deadpan expression, dressed casually in a dark, patterned shirt.
The interview started off smoothly, with the host asking the usual questions about the movie. But then, as expected, the conversation took a playful turn. Ryan, ever the joker, looked straight into the camera, his expression serious as he quipped, "My safe word is ‘please stop, that hurts.’"
The crew burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but chuckle from your spot behind the scenes.
Hugh, standing beside him, grinned widely, the mischievous glint in his eyes unmistakable. "I don’t have a safe word," he declared, his voice deep and smooth. "I want to keep going."
The room erupted in laughter again, the chemistry between the two actors on full display. In that moment, Hugh’s eyes flicked over to where you were standing, and he caught your eye. He flashed you a smile—half playful, half something deeper—and it sent a warm shiver down your spine. It was a fleeting moment, but it felt like a private joke shared just between the two of you.
The rest of the interview continued in the same vein, filled with jokes and teasing, but that brief exchange lingered in your mind, making your heart race.
Later that evening, you arrived home, the day’s events still dancing through your mind like a slow, sweet melody. The house was wrapped in a soft, peaceful silence, but as soon as you stepped inside, you noticed Hugh. He was already there, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, a drink cradled in his hand, his gaze lifting to meet yours the moment you entered. His smile—slow, teasing, and so familiar, curved at the corner of his lips, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself today," he said, his voice rich with warmth and playful insinuation, the sound of it wrapping around you like a slow caress.
You couldn't help but grin, your steps carrying you closer to him, the space between you shrinking with each beat of your heart. "You and Ryan," you said, shaking your head slightly, your smile widening, "were having way too much fun. That safe word comment really got to you, didn’t it?"
Hugh chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air, settling in your chest. He set his drink aside, his arms slipping around your waist in one fluid motion, pulling you against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, making you melt into his embrace. "Maybe," he murmured, his lips hovering near your ear, his breath warm and tantalizing against your skin, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. "But it was your laugh that I couldn’t stop thinking about."
Before you had a chance to respond, his mouth was on yours, soft and slow at first, tasting, teasing, exploring. The kiss was sweet, but laced with the same playful energy that had lingered between you all day. His lips pressed harder, more insistent now, as if he wanted to consume every thought, every breath, every inch of you. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer still, until there was no space left between your bodies, only heat and the promise of something more.
You laughed softly against his lips, your breath catching as his kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours, playful yet full of intent. "So," you murmured, your voice breathless as you broke the kiss, just for a moment, "no safe word, huh?"
His grin widened, wicked and full of mischief, as his hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, his lips trailing feather-light kisses along your pulse. "Only if you say, 'please stop, that hurts,'" he teased, his voice low and rough with desire.
A laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly dissolved into a soft moan as Hugh’s kisses turned into playful nips, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your entire body hum with anticipation. The banter, the teasing, it all faded into the background as his hands moved over you, exploring, claiming, until all that remained was the heat between you, the shared breath, the undeniable pull of desire.
Hugh's lips continued their tantalizing path, leaving a trail of warmth and tingling sensation wherever they touched. And your laughter melted into moans, soft whispers exchanged between kisses, the playful energy from the day morphing into something deeper, more intimate, as you both surrendered to the moment.
He scooped you up effortlessly, a surprised squeak escaping your lips as he lifted you into his arms. The feeling of his strength, the way his arms cradled you securely against his chest, made your heart race. With every step toward the bedroom, the anticipation grew, a heady mix of excitement and desire swirling in the air between you.
He set you down on the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with the fiery intensity in his eyes. His gaze never left yours as he slowly undressed you, his hands moving with deliberate care, as if savoring the moment of revealing each part of you.
Hugh paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you laid out before him, a look of awe and affection on his face. The room was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy with expectation. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started soft and sweet but quickly deepened, growing hungrier, more demanding. You melted into it, your hands reaching to pull him closer, to feel his warmth against you.
In the soft, warm glow of the room, your bodies were tangled up in the sweetest way, the gentle rise and fall of your breaths matching as you snuggled close. Hugh’s eyes twinkled as they met yours, a mix of love and a playful glint that made your heart skip. His forehead rested against yours, both of you grinning, caught up in the cozy, silly intimacy of the moment.
"I love you sooo much," he whispered with a giggle, his breath warm and soft against your lips. You barely had a chance to respond before he kissed you, quick, teasing kisses that made you both laugh, your smiles breaking between every kiss. His hand slid down your side, fingers tracing your skin like it was the softest thing he’d ever touched. He paused, looking up at you with an exaggerated, playful grin. "Ticklish?" he teased, giving your side a tiny, playful squeeze, and you burst into giggles, squirming beneath him.
As he gently touched you, it wasn’t rushed or intense; it was slow, sweet, and filled with those giggly, breathless moments where you couldn’t help but smile at each other. Every touch was tender, like he was trying to make you laugh as much as he was trying to make you feel good. When his fingers reached your core, you gasped with surprise, but it turned into a light, joyful laugh as your body arched instinctively towards him, the tension mixed with pure delight.
He smiled too, his breathy laughter joining yours. "Oh, you like that?" he teased, his voice soft and playful. You nodded, biting your lip, trying to keep the laughter at bay as his fingers moved with a gentle rhythm that made you feel safe, loved, and totally adored.
The pleasure was real, but so was the lightness between you two. "Oh my gosh," you murmured through another giggle as he hit just the right spot, and Hugh grinned like he was so proud of himself. His thumb circled in a way that had you gasping one moment and laughing the next, the closeness making everything feel warm and perfect, like the two of you were sharing something so beautiful.
"Let go for me," he whispered with a smile, leaning down to kiss your nose, his voice filled with love and mischief all at once. You clung to him as he coaxed you higher and higher, your body trembling, but your heart so full of joy that you couldn’t help but keep smiling.
When the release came, it was like the sweetest kind of relief—your body tensing and then melting into pure, soft bliss. You smiled through it, your hands gripping his arms as the waves of pleasure washed over you, feeling like your whole body was filled with light. "Oh, wow," you gasped between soft, breathless chuckles, and Hugh was right there with you, pressing kisses all over your face like he couldn’t get enough.
"You’re so cute," he murmured, his voice filled with affection as his hands stayed on you, grounding you, keeping the moment tender and safe. You caught your breath, the two of you still tangled up together, all smiles and sweetness.
After a moment, Hugh gave you a playful look, his eyes gleaming with that teasing light. "Round two?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he tugged at his waistband, making you excited all over again. You nodded, grinning, feeling giddy with love and anticipation.
He moved slowly, undressing like he was putting on a show just for you, every move exaggerated in the silliest, most endearing way. When he finally joined you again, his body warm and familiar, he hovered above you, his eyes searching yours one more time, but this time with pure playfulness.
With a slow, gentle movement, he entered you, both of you gasping, but then immediately relaxing. His movements were slow, steady, but filled with love, each thrust bringing you closer, but in the sweetest, most joyful way. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, the two of you so connected that it felt like the world melted away.
“Look at me,” he whispered through a grin, his voice full of love. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and the pure adoration there made your heart swell. He smiled down at you, his eyes twinkling like you were the only person in the world, and you felt like you were floating.
The pleasure built, slowly, softly, until it was almost too much—almost. "Are you sure you don't need a safe word" Hugh said trough the moans as he looked down at you. "No hugh, u can fuck me as hard and as many times as you want" you maneged to get out. And then, with one last, sweet thrust, you were falling over the edge together, the release gentle but overwhelming, your bodies trembling with it. Tears were forming at your eyes, as the last waves of pleasure rolled through you. Hugh held you close,smiling again, his face pressed against your neck as you both caught your breath, wrapped up in each other.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, his voice soft and filled with so much love. You smiled, feeling like the luckiest person in the world as you lay there together, the room quiet, your hearts full. And as you snuggled into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, you knew this was love real, wrapped up in a moment you’d never forget.
"Today was fun," you murmured, resting your head against his chest.
Hugh hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It was. We should definitely do it again sometime. Maybe with a few new safe words."
You both laughed again, the sound carrying you into a peaceful, contented sleep, still wrapped up in each other’s arms.
#hugh jackman#hugh jackman smut#wolverine smut#wolverine#logan howlett smut#marvel smut#logan howlett
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
IM SO MAD
GETTING MY NAILS DONE 🫶🏼
#the inherent stupidity of my existence has struck again#soooo i booked for gels not acrylics. baso just spent £22 to get my nails painted. even i can do that#pure fuming rn im actually dumb like im SO stingy with my money i count every penny and keep track of it to silly levels#so when I spend on a luxury like nails that IS a dumb purchase bc it’s spenny and just for something as silly as getting my nails done#im always v buzzed for it and prep it around my paycheck etc#AND I DIDNT GET WHAT I WANTED. I JUST GOT NAIL VARNISH WHAT THE FUCKKK#like all love to my gel girlies but imo it’s a waste of money like it’s literally £20+ for them to paint your natural nail. that’s it#for £10 more you can get actual acrylics. and also the length and shape is my fave bit of having nails idrc about the colour :/#and that’s the bit I didn’t get. ill end it all don’t think I won’t#and I said to her if I could still get acrylics when we realised what happened but she had another appointment and didn’t have time 😭#AND it was a girl i know from college AND secondary school AND primary school. ive about had it#she did feel really bad though so I spent 20 mins being like ‘OH MY GOD DONT WORRY PLEASE ITS MY FAULT AND THESE ARE SO CUTE IM SO SORRY’#just to leave and immediately ring my mum like ‘IM SO PISSED OFFFFF’ lmao#tbf the colour IS gorgeous like easily my fave colour I’ve gotten it’s a rlly lush dark brown#BUT IT’S NOT ACRYLICS. and like i set my heart on it now I’m fully just gonna go somewhere else tomorrow for actual nails#and go over these ones. so it’s literally like i binned £22 for what good it did me#i cannot express how stupidly angry I am at myself about this it’s just nails it’s JUST nails I know that but I’m so maddddd#i was so excited :(#hella goes home
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
I bet this has been asked but we need ANYTHING on Wills goals
i am in such a blurb roll rn. samy was ecstatic to say the least about these goals
—
even though it was halloween, samy's eyes were glued to the hockey game playing on the tv while the pregame happened around her. everyone knew already that if the sharks, devils, or canucks were playing, she was watching no matter what was happening.
she followed her boyfriend around the screen as he glided across the ice fighting for the puck with his line. they were playing good tonight and something in the girl felt a goal coming. it's been building since the season started and she knew it was in sight for will.
he pushed against the blackhawks players, skating closer and closer to the goal. samy was literally on the edge of her seat as she mumbled things to herself about the game. from the kitchen, hannah laughed at her roommate's behavior.
"yeah, when she's focusing on hockey, everything else doesn't matter," the brunette chuckled with some of their other friends.
as soon as the puck slid into the back of the net after will's stick, samy was on her feet, catching everyone's attention at her sudden excitement.
"he scored! he scored! holy shit!" the younger hughes exclaimed as hannah hurried in to catch the replay. samy grbabed her friend's shoulders, shaking her and the drinks in their hands.
"will scored a goal! he scored his first goal!" she was bouncing on her heels making hannah bounce with her, both girls now screaming in excitement.
"no fucking way! oh my god," hannah laughed as they both turned back to see the multiple replays happening. the puck slid in with such ease.
samy grabbed her phone to text will even though he wouldn't look at his phone until after the game. she started spamming him with congratulations and i'm so proud of you and adding a hundred different emojis that definitely contributed to her slight drunkenness.
it wasn't long after when will scored his second goal just minutes before samy and her friends were about to head out for the night. the girl screamed, their neighbors definitely wondering what was going on. she jumped around in excitement, feeling extremely proud of her boyfriend scoring his first two nhl goals on the same night that also put them ahead of the blackhawks.
"they actually might win this! holy shit!" the brunette texted will again, not caring that he was gonna open his phone to probably over 50 messages from her. she couldn't help it.
this moment was so special and she was disappointed she wasn't there in person, but she couldn't be more proud of will. he dreamed of moments like these happening since they were little kids and now that it was happening really didn't feel real.
samy was still out when her phone buzzed and she saw will's name flash across the screen. the girl excused herself for a second to find a more quieter area to talk to him for a moment.
their call connected and samy immediately smiled when she saw will holding up the puck he scored.
"i can't believe it!! i'm so, so proud of you. we watched the game before we went out and it was honestly so amazing. you played so well," the brunette rushed out, her words slurring together slightly.
"i can't believe it either. i feel like i'm dreaming or something," will admitted.
"and you scored two! that was awesome. we were literally just about to leave when i saw your second goal," samy gushed and her words brought a bright pink flush to his cheeks.
it warmed his heart knowing samy still had on the game even though she obviously had plans for the night. it was those little things that proved to will that long distance was gonna be worth it. he didn’t doubt it anymore—and a part of himself still hated what he did to her.
“i love you, baby. have a good night out. text me when you get back to your apartment,” the blonde smiled, not wanting to keep her away for much longer. samy quickly leaned in, kissing her phone camera as if she was kissing him.
“i love, love, love you so much. celebrate those goals tonight!! i’ll text you,” the two shared a laugh before hanging up.
#will smith hockey#hughes!sister x will smith au#samy x will#samy hughes#will smith x oc#will smith imagine#boston college hockey#boston college#uofmichigan#umich hockey#san jose sharks#sjs#sj sharks#ws6#wsh2#will smith hockey fluff#will smith hockey goal#san jose sharks fic#umich#umich soccer#umich blurb#umich fic#umich imagine#umichsoccer#umich blurbs#umich wolverine#umich wolverines#umich au#bc eagles#bc hockey
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five
Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*
*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.
WC: 17k (holy moly)
Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao
Series Masterlist
Previous Part (Chapter Four)
A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.
and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao
I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!
you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓
Nico
When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.
He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.
He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games.
He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t.
She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home.
She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.
And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.
He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.
When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.
Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.
She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.
“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.
“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.
Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.
“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him. He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.
“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”
Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.
She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious.
“You have money.”
Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?
“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.
“Not enough for what?”
He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.
“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”
“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”
Shit.
“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”
“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”
Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place.
She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.
If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.
He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.
And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.
He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.
“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”
Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”
“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”
Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head.
He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind.
He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.
She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.
Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.
“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.
She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”
“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company.
He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago.
“Why are you dressed?”
Nico stops in his tracks.
When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.
But he hadn’t changed.
Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.
“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”
“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.”
When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.
His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.
He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.
If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.
He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.
Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.
Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level.
Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.
She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.
“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”
“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.
He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.
He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.
As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances.
Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”
She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.
He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.
Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid.
Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.
Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it.
He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”
Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”
He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico.
“Talia. Hi.”
“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.
“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.
“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy.
It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.
He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.
He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake.
“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.
“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.
“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.
“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.
The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.
“That was weird.”
“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk.
“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”
Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.
“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”
“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”
His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.
“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”
The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.
He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.
“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”
He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.
He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.
He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building.
The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.
He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”
He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.
“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “
“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”
Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them.
Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.
Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”
Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.
Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”
Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects.
“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”
The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.
“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.
“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”
Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”
“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”
“How does it work then?” Nico asks.
Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.
“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”
“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”
“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”
“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Excuse me?”
Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.
“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”
“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound.
It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.
None of it is real.
“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body.
“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”
Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.
He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.
She had accused him of ruining her life.
“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”
“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.
“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”
“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”
“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”
Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”
Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.
He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises.
Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?
Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.
“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”
“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.
“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.”
Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.
“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”
“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.
Poppy hasn’t messaged him.
Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.
“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”
“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”
Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip.
This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.
Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.
He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.
He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.
Why didn’t he just wake her?
She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.
He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.
If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.
She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.
If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.
If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.
He just needs to get rid of Talia.
The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.
He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.
And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.
The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds.
“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”
Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.
He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.
He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.
“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”
“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”
“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”
“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”
“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”
“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”
“I don’t need their money-,”
“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”
“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”
“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”
“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.
“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”
“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”
Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.
“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”
“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.
“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”
“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.
The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.
He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.
“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”
“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.
This is what she’s good at.
Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.
“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”
There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.
This feels like all those feelings.
“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”
Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.
He can put Poppy first.
So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.
He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.
Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.
He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.
It isn’t about what he wants.
What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.
Talia is right.
Poppy doesn’t deserve that.
She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.
“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”
He needs to see Poppy.
He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.
Poppy
The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity.
Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.
It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.
She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.
It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.
Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.
Nico’s charm was entirely different.
Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?
It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.
And he became hers.
There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own.
And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.
He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.
She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded.
“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.
She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.
The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training.
Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her.
He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.
She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.
And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.
The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.
Talia.
The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.
She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.
But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?
She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.
And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.
But it hadn’t.
The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.
She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.
He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.
The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?
Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand.
That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest.
There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.
She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.
Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.
2 missed calls from Mom
Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.
Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!
Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!
Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.
Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.
Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.
She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.
If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.
Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.
Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!
Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘
Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.
A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.
Poppy: I’ll be there!!
“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.
When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark.
Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.
Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.
“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.
“Have you text him?”
“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.
“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets.
Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.
Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.
In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.
But that changed once they graduated.
Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.
The kind of guy her mother would probably love.
Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.
Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.
They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.
She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.
“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”
“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”
Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.
Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp.
Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.
Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.
Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.
She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.
“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”
“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”
“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”
“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison.
“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.
Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.
“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat.
“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”
“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”
“I don’t fear confrontation.”
“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”
“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”
Poppy rolls her eyes.
She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!
But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.
It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.
She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.
It was desperate.
And maybe that scared him.
It sure as hell scares her.
“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt.
She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.
“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.
The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.
“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”
“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.
“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”
She does.
She knows Nico, she trusts him.
She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.
“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”
Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.
“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”
It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.
“I know.”
Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.
She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.
She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.
She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.
Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”
“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”
“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”
“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”
“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.
Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.
But he never seeks her out like this.
Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.
She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.
Especially on his incredibly rare day off.
“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things.
“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”
“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”
“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”
She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.
“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”
“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”
“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”
“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”
“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”
“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”
“Are you coming or not?”
“That depends, how do you have your steak?”
“Well done.”
“Oh! Then absolutely not.”
“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.
“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”
Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze.
Bingo. He’s hiding something.
“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.
“Why?”
If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?
“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”
Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?
Unless-
“You’ve seen him?”
“This morning.”
“Oh.”
All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.
Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?
She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.
She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.
She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.
She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.
Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.
She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.
Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.
“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming.
“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.
As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.
She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.
Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.
He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew.
His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.
His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.
She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.
“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.
“Can we talk?”
She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.
Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?
He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.
The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.
He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.
She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.
If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.
“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.
She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.
She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.
He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?
“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”
She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.
He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.
She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.
But a part of her feels it coming.
She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.
“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.
“For what?” She manages to choke out.
“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.
He’s sorry for last night.
Last night, he made a mistake.
Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.
“I care about you so much, Poppy.”
That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.
“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”
No, no, no.
She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.
“I love you-,”
“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.
“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”
She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.
“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”
She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.
“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”
It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.
“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.”
Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told you-,”
“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions.
The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.
“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”
She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.
He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.
“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.
“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”
“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”
“Poppy,”
“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”
“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”
“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”
“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.
“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”
Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”
“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing.
But she doesn’t want to hurt.
Looking at him hurts.
Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.
“I want you to leave.”
“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”
“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”
She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.
If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.
It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.
“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”
She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.
There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.
He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats.
She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.
The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.
So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.
Next Chapter
Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)
#nico hischier#nico hischier x oc#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier fanfiction#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#*oys#*writing#word of warning to anyone writing anything ever don't leave yourself stupid instructions#thinking inspiration will strike when needed#surprise surprise motherfucker it won't!!!!!!#anyway that last convo very our field of dreams engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and I'll still see it until I die#you're the loss of my life coded
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am so fucking excited for exedra like I cant verbalize it properly I have goosebumps all over my body and I am like shaking and buzzing rn I think it might actually kill me /pos
#IM SO EXCITED FOR IT#IT LOOKS SO FUCKING GOOD#So excited for steam to tell me I have 10000 hours in it#puella magi madoka magica#madoka magica#pmmm#madoka kaname#homura akemi
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello bb and congratulations again 💗💗💗 i’m so happy and excited for you hitting such a major milestone 🥳 so well deserved!!
could i please request “do you trust me?” w geto? 🥺 no preference on fluff smut or angst, just whatever speaks to you
tytyty in advance 🥰 luv u~
HEY TIFF thank you so much!!!!! i just adore you mwah you're the BEST. i can absolutely do that for you my lovie dove WHERE are all these geto asks coming from rn i have another in my inbox ?!?! i didn't know all u geto girlies were hiding in my followers like hello....ANYWAY i am not a manga girly so i have no idea how geto's actual storyline goes so i went with a modern!AU as is my tendency
-
It's been a rough day. You're three tequila sodas deep, nuzzled into the wood of your favorite dive bar, and trying to ignore the tears continuously threatening to well in your eyes. Your phone sits on the counter, buzzing continuously and likely irritating the other patrons, but you're beyond caring.
Your cheating, piece-of-work, now ex-boyfriend knows no bounds apparently, sending text after text groveling and begging you to pick up. You have no intentions of doing so, but watching the screen light up over and over again, reading his begging, is giving you a sick satisfaction. Bastard.
"Excuse me?"
A voice floats over your shoulder, deep and pleasant. You turn, fully ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt your misery, but your mouth shuts as soon as you catch sight of the man behind you.
Tall and broad, with long dark hair tied into a neat bun, two little pieces framing his angular face beautifully. He's gorgeous, but something about him disarms you in a way you wish he wouldn't. Your woman's intuition is whispering that something more lurks below the innocent, friendly smile on his face, something dangerous, but you swallow it down, intrigued.
"Yes?"
"Is this seat taken?"
You're surprised; sweaty, fresh out of work in your little waitress uniform, face blotchy with the remnants of spilt tears, you absolutely aren't looking your best. You shrug, nod, and gesture towards the seat, unsure of what exactly this guy's playing at.
"You seem to be drinking alone," he observes after allowing a few quiet minutes to stretch between you.
"I am," you confirm, wincing at the popping sound your straw makes, the last bits of your cocktail struggling to make it up to your mouth, "I try not to make it a habit, but it's been a bit of a day."
"Hm," he nods thoughtfully, reaching a beckoning hand out to the bartender. After he orders his scotch, he orders a drink for you, nailing the combination perfectly: tequila soda, splash of lime juice, with an orange slice. Your eyes narrow in suspicion.
"How did you-"
"I overheard you earlier." That same friendly, disarming smile graces his face, warms your core and sends alarm bells ringing in your head.
"Have you been...watching me?"
"No," he waves a nonchalant hand through the air, sliding a black Amex across the counter to the bartender, "not watching. I just tend to keep an eye on a beautiful woman when I see one."
You blink. Should you be creeped out? Intrigued? Ashamed of the lusty electricity buzzing through your veins at his compliment? All three?
"T-thank you," you stammer, unsure of what else to say.
"Speaking of beautiful women," he turns towards you, cheersing his glass against your own, "what are you doing drinking on your own?"
"My boyfriend sucks," you mumble around the little plastic straw between your lips, "ex that is."
"He must not be all that bright, then," his eyes trail over your figure meaningfully, something in his smile growing darker.
"I just want to forget about him," you admit, shamefully vulnerable in front of a total stranger. You realize you don't even know his name, but when he lays a hand across your thigh, high up enough to be far from friendly, you feel a familiar heat spark across your skin. It's enough to forego the details, you need plenty of things from this mysterious stranger, but not his name.
"I know a thing or two about forgetting someone," his tongue darts out to wet his lips, yours mirroring it unintentionally, "would you like...some advice?"
"I don't know," you chuckle, "what kind of advice?"
"Well, it's more help than it is advice," that smile deepens into a smirk, one eyebrow raising in a silent challenge, "do you trust me?"
"You're a perfect stranger."
"I am," he inclines his head in admittance, but doesn't lose his stamina for a moment, "do you trust me?"
And maybe it's the tequila, maybe it's his strong neck that looks like it would give so deliciously under your teeth, maybe it's the insistent little circles his thumb is rubbing into your thigh, but you feel freer, more daring than before. It escapes your mouth in a whisper, desperate and trembling in the air between you.
"Yes."
#dflajkdfa i don't even know what this is#i feel like do you trust me should have been angsty#but all i could think of was toxic geto hitting on you at the bar?!?!#maybe i got too confident throwing geto in my lineup of men#whatevs#HERE IS UR DRABBLE TIFF MWAH ENJOY#i hope it even makes sense#ragehits1000#geto suguru x reader
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗛 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗦 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗢𝗪 !
summary, your family has never been the best company and after recieving such a 'wonderful' phone call from your mother, you couldn't help but cry to arashi's arms.
featuring, arashi narukami w/ gender-neutral!reader (romantic/platonic)
tags, angst (hurt-to-comfort), family issues/mother issues, possible ooc, etc. drabble, not proofread. reader is not anzu.
notice, pretty self indulgent fic ermmm... yeah kinda personal, my writing skills is so shit rn especially when writing angst and i couldve written this better but atp i cannot be bothered to care hgdhsheu 💔💔
"alright," you let out a sigh of relief, moving away from your computer as the chair wheels backwards from your push. "that's it for tonight. aaah, i'm so tired!" you groaned and stretched your arms up, letting the bones in your bones pop and crack after being in one single position for an hour or so.
still, a satisfactory smile sat on your face as you take a look at your daily to-do list all checked off. even your weekly list isn't finished, you're still proud of yourself that you managed to tackle on a large amount of work you're usually not used to.
"ne, producer..."
you turn around, hearing a familiar voice calling you. the door squeaked open and arashi entered the small office space, holding a file folder that she was looking through as if to check. she closed it and looked up, smiling at you so sweetly it made you smile back.
"arashi! is there anything you need?" you ask, getting up from your chair to greet her properly.
the taller woman nodded, handing the files to you. "mhm, i was wondering if you're free after work? and oh, tsukasa wanted to give you these but he was caught up with something, so he sent me~" she giggled, remembering the troubled expression on tsukasa's face when he told her.
you took the folder from her hands, muttering a thank you and putting it on your desk. "i wonder what he's so troubled about... well, anyways. i just finished my work for today and i don't have anything planned after, so i am free. why do you ask?"
there's a glimmer in arashi's eyes, a familiar spark of excitement within her bright, purple eyes as she opened up her mouth to speak again. "well, there's a new cafe downtown and—"
riiing, riing!
your damned phone started buzzing, cutting arashi off before she could even finish speaking. you quickly tended to it, muttering a quick sorry. "a-ah, umm, do you mind if i take this first? it'll be quick!"
arashi pouted at this, upset at the fact she was just interrupted but merely sighed in defeat and smiled. "mhm, don't worry. take your call, i'll be right here!" she reassured you, waving her hand dismissively.
you shot her a grateful look before walking out of the room to take the call. you looked at the caller id and a big grin found your way on your face when you realized it was your mom calling.
though, your relationship with her was strained, you still felt a little bit of love for her. even if she wasn't the perfect mother.
"ma! how have you been? why did you call?"
"i've been fine, (name). i just wanted to check up on you is all... and you?" your heart swelled. she remembered to ask about your day, it was the bare minimum but you felt happy hearing her say that.
your smile only widened as you chuckled. "i've been okay, mom. things at work is a little hectic, but—"
"mhm, mhm... i know. anyways,"
you paused, not expecting to be cut off like that but you brushed it off. she is getting old and little bit impatient, you understand.
"dear, i want to ask. when you usually get your paycheck?"
the question made you raise your brow in confusion. "on the 5th and the 20th of each month, why?"
"the 20th? i see... well, do you mind if you send some money? it's hard trying to come by around this time."
you felt the happiness within you die out when you hear her request, leaving a bitter taste on your mouth when you realized she only called you to ask for money, not to actually check up on you.
it's stupid to think that she'll actually change.
but still, there's a part of you still clung onto the belief and pitied her position. life back in your hometown was not as nice as it was in the city. and yet, the expenses here aren't cheap and your paycheck was barely enough to provide you a somewhat comfortable life. you aren't sure if there'd be any left to send to your mother.
you gulped, the ball of saliva that's been forming at the back of your mouth went down your throat. for some reason, you found yourself still hesitating to break the news.
"i don't know, ma. my paycheck isn't all that big and barely enough to cover me, so—"
"tsk." you heard her click her tongue from the other end of the line, her displeasure oozing out like venom. "aren't you a producer at a famous idol company? shouldn't your pay be more than that?"
you fell silent for a moment, confused the change of attitude. she felt almost... cold. detached. "h-huh?"
"or are you just unwilling to share your pay with your family? i didn't raise you to be so selfish, (name)."
"m-ma, it's not like that! i swear—"
"why couldn't you be more like your sibling? honest and generous?" she sighed, you could almost see her shake her head in disapproval. "i shouldn't have expected much from you, it's my fault for expecting much more."
"anyways, there's something i have to do now." is what she last said before the call ended, a beeping following afterwards to further indicate that there was nobody else on the other line.
your knees buckled under you and your hand dropped to your sides, almost letting your phone if you hadn't gripped onto the device as hard as you can. she didn't even hear you out or even asked about anything else...
your shoulder slumped as you instinctively prepared yourself to crash onto the ground and hit your knees hard on the tiles... but you caught yourself just in time. especially when a soft voice brought you out of the speechless state.
"—ame), are you okay?" you hear arashi's voice behind you. you didn't realize she was there until you turned around and saw her concerned expression. her brows only furrowed, her hand coming to your cheek and rubbing the tender flesh.
you didn't even realize that tears were already rushing out of the eyes until you saw your own teary face reflecting in arashi's eyes.
"(name)! what's wrong!?" arashi asked in a panic, cupping your face in her hands and leaned down. at this point, the tears only doubled as you dove your head into her chest and hugged her tightly. her hands immediately switched places and now patting and rubbing your back.
even when you try to explain through your tears, your voice came out as strangled sobs that were too unintelligible for her to understand. her embrace tightened as if trying to protect you from the rest of the world.
"shhh, it's okay. it's alright. let it out, let big sister arashi take the pain away from you, okay?" she whispered, her words soothing your aching heart slightly. your mother's words still replayed in your mind, but are now slowly being quieten down by arashi. "it's okay, i got you now..."
as you wept in her arms, arashi felt a pang hit her heart in a way that she never felt before. earlier, she was upset that she got interrupted and had to wait for you to finish, but now she was more upset at the fact something or someone made you cry. and that she didn't know what it was.
when you pulled away, she wiped your tears with her thumbs before pulling out her handkerchief and wiping them properly. "it's okay, baby, do you wanna talk about it?" she asked to which to promptly shook your head. you didn't want to drag her into your family troubles.
she frowned, but didn't push further. she leaned closed to your face and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, the feeling of her lips against your skin made you feel warm and fuzzy. like you were listened to and understood.
"it's okay, you don't have to. just remember i'll always be here when you need me, okay? you don't have to shoulder your problems on your own, i know it sounds hypocritical for me to say that, but trust me. i know what it feels like to be beaten down."
she pulled up, helping you find your balance and kept you close just in case you ever fall. she patted down your clothes, brushing off any dust or dirt that got on them.
arashi smiled softly. "now, dry those tears. you look much better on with a smile, see?" she chuckled. "now, let me take care of you now. there's a new cafe downtown and i want you to accompany me, my treat this time around."
notice, idk how much es pays their workers but yknow, even if it's a lot, rent in the city is still expensive 💔 ik from experience
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok ok oK OK OK YOU KNOW WHAT FINE
YOU WANT MY ATTENTION BRAWL STARS!?!? I’LL GIVE YOU MY FUCKING ATTENTION-!
I normally find clowns to be delightful but-
WHAT IN THE GODS HELL IS THIS!?!?!?
I- I LOVE SPIDERS! I LOVE CLOWNS!
I FUCKIN’-
IDJDJFJRNRKKRKRKR
MY THOUGHTS 👇
I just really want to address the two big ass elephants in the room:
1) This… THING in the corner
That is… actually very creepy. Like no joke I actually find this extremely ominous. I know that Brawl Stars can get dark, but I didn’t think they would just post something like this.
Anyways uh-
Spiders am I right! Personally, I love ‘em and this brawler clearly loves them as well. Also they seem to be very flexible (duh), especially in the pose they’re in on the god damn ceiling.
Also they’re clearly are a acrobatic based off of what little I can see of their outfit and pose.
I like that they did this instead of a clown because that seems a bit too easy ya know? It’s unique is what I’m trying to say :0
I’m very excited to see what this brawler has to offer! Especially their gameplay!
Also another quick thing:
In a recent art that they did for the new Spider-Man game, in the background there is a billboard for the circus and on it, it says “Starring M.J.”
And in a later art with Shelly and Colt, they’re both holding on to a “J”
Idk I might just be reaching here, but I’m pretty sure the brawlers name MIGHT be M.J. or at least has “J” in their name.
2) WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FU-
WHAT IS THAT!? LIKE SERIOUSLY WHAT IS THAT!?
Ok ok I might have a explanation for whatever the hell is happening here.
So, I think this brawler is going to the Brawlywood trio. Why their trio? Well since it is October, it would make sense for the Brawl Stars team to make a brawler based off of horror movies 👀
Specially, classic horror movies the mostly uses practical effects to achieve their spooky goals! Which is why I think there are those big creepy ass hands, tongue, and eyes behind the curtains!
Lots of horror movies used practical effects back then, mainly because cgi wasn’t as popular or as polished as it is today. Hell even Jurassic Park used it!
(Oh god… y’all just saw my horror movie lover nerd side of me lmao)
Honestly it’s the only explanation I could think of to explain why those things are behind the curtain. If by a small chance that I am right then I will say that I’m a little disappointed that Ash and Grom’s trio will remain incomplete even though it’s been what.. 2 years???
Not saying Lola and Gray don’t deserve a new member, but still… I hate to see them get the Stu/Buzz treatment :/
Anyways, sorry for the long ramble. I just have a lot of thoughts rn and I can tell this is gonna be a big update.
#brawl stars#brawl talk#this is literally the most ominous thing I’ve ever seen the official twitter post holy shit-#the brawl pass shall be acquired u_u 💖#I love being obsessed with two games at the same time 💖 (msm and bs btw)
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
I just wanted to come here to tell you how much I love all your fics. Like it started with chb before depression and that got me absolutely obsessed with Michael x Jake and now I’ve already read ‘get me out of here (I might just take you with me)’ twice and ‘it all started in the laundry room (I’m just the same as you)’ three times even though it’s over 100k and I regularly get the urge to reread it again because it’s just so good (the only reason I don’t is because I know I will binge it and I have school stuff to do right now but it’s only a matter of time until I read it for the fourth time). Really I’m just obsessed with how you write them and your writing in general. Like they are so soft and you somehow manage to find the exact balance between angst and fluff that I love. I am also absolutely obsessed with Em, she is canon to me now. So is Michael having survived the fall from the bridge, cabin 7 needs some happiness
you have no idea how happy this message made me, oh my god I was not expecting that when I checked my inbox this morning and just-
argghggghggggh :D :D
you have just put me on a sugar high for the whole day THANK YOU that is so sweet and honestly it means so much to me that you've read those works and you like them and that you appreciate my weird style of writing, they have such a lot of chemistry that I can cook up, and I'm never quite sure how it will end up but to hear that you like it is all I need :) <333
I'm kinda lost for words rn, not sure how to convey how absolutely buzzing I am from this :D
also it makes me so happy to hear you like Em, she has always been canon to me and she's by far my fav oc so it make me SO HAPPY to hear you like her!
and Michael living has never even been a question to me, in fact, I am about seven paragraphs away from posting a third part to 'screw canon happy endings rule' that he and Jake are quite present in so this is just adding to my excitement about that too omg I think I'm actually high off this comment :D
xD giggling and kicking my feet right now THANK YOU AGAIN ARGH <333
#ao3 writer#one of the best comments I've ever got#screaming#masonyew#jake mason#michael yew#michael yew lives#au's#screw canon#but at the same time canon is so fun to play with#honestly this has made me so fucking happy it's unreal#:D :D :D
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
it's here....
I am watching all the trolls movie in one sitting while taking a break between each one to really process the colorful trip I'm about to go on
so obviously the first question I'd ask myself would be was trolls (2016) good?? and the answer is yeah it's pretty fun but not that it's fantastic more like smth I'd put on if I got bored and wanted to watch a silly movie with songs and bright fucking characters
so I'd give it a 7/10 maybe
now onto some notes and silly remarks shall we?
—————
• the movie starts with a scrapbooking montage/flashback where it's basically explains that bergens eat trolls to feel happy because they're miserable creatures that don't sing, dance or hug
and when the flashback actually starts we literally see gristle (who has NEVER eaten a troll) FUCKING SMILE LIKE??
"daddy omg it's trollstice I'm so excited!! 🥹"
tell me this boy is not buzzing with fucking joy rn look me dead in the eyes and tell me that
and yeah ik that what's said in the intro probably isn't all meant literally cuz when poppy and branch arrive to bergen town all the ppl there start singing clint eastwood by gorillaz (which was fucking hilarious LMAO)
• bridget and gristle are SO FUCKING ADORABLE LIKE LOOK AT THEM
they don't know they're destined to fall in love but bridget's sure as hell already in love with gristle lol
they're honestly so sweet and happy tgt I wish they explode I hate them sm (they're everything to me)
I can't believe they pulled a cinderella and I didn't hate it the entire time cuz ngl bridget is that girl she just doesn't know it
speaking of bridget....
• I love gristle duh he's so dumb and adorable and stupid and a literal man child but in an endearing way that somehow works
but bridget?? she truly means everything to me
she's just so miserable and sad in this movie it's awful to see so ty poppy for helping my girl out cuz goddamn was she in a horrible place yeesh...
I also could not get a ss of her with poppy but the besties??? the sisters?? the girls ever?? yeah they're like all that matters to me like that scene where bridget is set to ruin her life so poppy and the other trolls can escape cuz she showed her what true happiness was?? did not tear up at all 😎
• since I'm talking about bergens rn might as well say that I think the chef was a pretty damn good villain in this move
her motivations are clear, she has a consistent shitty personality and I don't find her that goofy or anything when she's carrying out her plan she's believable as an antagonist
her wanting to steal the throne and become queen kinda does make sense since she was banned from the town and developing a hatred/resentment for the same ppl that threw you away makes sense
and by "ppl" I mean the king aka the one on the throne so yeah she now wants to be queen and kill gristle lol
and since I'm talking about antagonists here let me talk about the biggest SNAKE in the room
ON THE NEXT POST 😁‼️
#who would've thought this would happen#not me that's for sure#tell 2016 me that I'd be rambling on about trolls and he would've called you crazy#no but really that gorillaz's bit was hilarious#gristle and bridget are so goals i wish them the best#AND THEY GET MARRIED IN TROLLS 3 LIKE THEY FUCKING SHOULD#I also now get the rollerblading reference#I can see the “you're my sister” seeds getting planted in this movie for the third one#when poppy and bridget said ily to eachother RAHHH#WAILING.#also the chef ate#haha get it....#jayday watched a thing
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi accirax. multiple months late apology to never responding to your theory part i got tired (i am the laziest girl in the world). my bad. probably should have sent you this earlier. anyway remember when i said i felt weird when i first got your response to my theory. you'll never believe what happened when i submitted my story for critique
hi vivazaki!!! no worries on not responding to that theory. to be honest, i'd assumed we'd just reached the point where there wasn't much more to be discussed without the plot progressing to give us more evidence. i too am terrible at remembering/mustering the courage to send people messages, so don't feel bad about that at all.
i'm sorry you (presumably) felt weird again when submitting your story :( putting your work up for critique is always scary, especially if you're extra sensitive to potential rejection. i know there was at least one time when i cried in class due to receiving less-than-stellar feedback on my art. so, it's totally normal to freak out a little bit when subjecting such a personal part of yourself to scrutiny! hopefully in the future you can either find yourself in a position where you won't have to be critiqued too often, or you can (mostly) find peace in knowing that most people who critique your art are doing so from a place of enthusiasm and wanting to see your creative work progress even further, and not hatred. although, if the person you submitted your story to was just being a hater, then i send my politest "fuck you" to them.
i'm so excited for the return of both DRDT (obviously, i made a whole post about it) and P:EG (which i am ALSO working on a post on rn!). the DRDT fandom definitely felt a little low power mode these past couple of months (understandably), so i'm really looking forward to when we're all buzzing with theories and analysis again. i've already seen a lot more art circulating around than i did the past couple of months, and it's all really great! hopefully i'll have the time to draw something DRDT-related again soon; i miss those guys.
P:EG, on the other hand, will be awesome to have those communities form for the first time! obviously, there are people who have already been making art and theories for this past year and a half(?) (myself included). but, once we have an entire chapter's worth of information about the cast, i can only imagine that things will pop off and solidify even more. not to mention, chapter 1 will presumably come with EVERYONE'S full set of FTEs??? that's insane. not only do we get the mystery and whatever but we can unlock literally everyone's trauma. that's gonna be so important when it comes to determining a mastermind or whatever.
i don't know much about kill/cure-- although i did watch the trailer yesterday-- but i'm sure that'll be cool as well! it's always great to see more fangans go into production, especially actually playable ones. i know from personal experience that making a fangan teaches you a hell of a lot about what goes into making a good story, so i'm glad that more people will be able to learn from experience in that way. means that there might be more danganronpa-y works from former fangan authors in the future, y'know? >:)c
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/sunflower-lilac42/760386363709341696/wait-why-am-i-actually-cooking-rn-anyone-want-a?source=share
YES PLEASE
IVE BEEN WAITING FOR A FIC FROM YOU ☺️
obvs no pressure, just excited!!!!!!!
awww that means so much 🩵
anyway, here’s the little teaser - first line of the fic
“she hadn’t meant to end up on the curb, mascara streaking down her cheeks as the city buzzed around her, but here she was, wishing she’d never agreed to go on that date in the first place”
1 note
·
View note
Text
desperately trying to act normal while not being able to think about anything other than the MWIII reveal tomorrow
not because i’m like. super pumped for the story and buzzing with excitement over it. i’m excited for it y’know but i’m not clawing at the walls desperate to learn more this very second.
i’m just. so fucking nervous because if this trailer doesn’t have yuri that’s a very bad sign 💀 i’m gonna actually lose it if he isn’t in the reboot and the MWII trailer revealed a lot of the cast iirc so if he’s not in the trailer tomorrow—
i just need him to come back. i miss him so much. i’m fawning over makarov rn but if i catch even a single glimpse of yuri i’m going feral. words genuinely cannot express how obsessed with him i am, and if i see him it’s fucking over for everyone who follows me because their dashboards WILL be flooded with him.
#like i’m actually physically aching because i can’t relax when thinking about him#i am PRAYING that he’ll be in the trailer#i can’t fucking handle this wait#i’m already insanely anxious over unrelated stuff and this is sending me over the edge dude i have a headache 😭#<- no i am not mentally sane. i’m well aware that i’m obsessed with a fictional war criminal#pretty sure the event is dropping around noon for me??#idk how it’s gonna go since it’s an in-game thing#hopefully i won’t have to wait long for info skfhwk#i’m gonna combust i swear to god#can’t even tag this one since i don’t wanna look insane in the fandom tags 💀
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay now that my excitement has simmered down a bit, some thoughts:
Gonna go through my worries here and get them out of the way because for one I don't want negativity to ruin my hype and for two I probably have more articulate negative things to say my brain rn is kind of just too fucking excited to do more than just scream at how happy I am that ITZY IS COMING BACK.
So the most obvious thing lmao, the timing of this announcement is so fucking laughable I actually can't believe they deadass decided to drop this on the day midzys are sending trucks to JYPE. I talked about this with Kas and after that convo I'm less convinced this is a coincidence. Even the way they announced it like first dropping that article saying they have no clue when the cb is then dropping a teaser and a tracklist to manage our expectations because we've all been waiting for a full album pfff it's hilarious how obvious it is that they're covering their asses.
I could be wrong and they were planning to actually drop this shit today but if ya'll were all done preparing why couldn't you start by dropping a graphic poster or something since when does itzy release the tracklist this early? It's such a calculated move lmao. The buzz for the cb is most definitely going to drown out most of the press about the trucks.
The next thing sigh, what happened to the girls having involvement in this album? Why have we been waiting 8 months for only 6 songs? This feels like they were maybe 7/8 of the way through finalising and decided to just cut off the rest to release at a later date and I really have to ask if the girls' hard work matters so little that they can push forward shit just so they don't look bad in the press it's so fucking vile and quite frankly not all that surprising for div2 atp. I just feel bad like if there was stuff from them meant to be on the album then fuck div2 for holding it off because their own incompetence pissed off the fandom to this point and if there was none of their stuff then fuck div2 even more. A group in their 4th fucking year and to this day they have not been given an opportunity to have hands on credited involvement in their albums when they clearly want to have it. All the inputs and creative stuff they do do, specifically Ryujin, is never given credit or just taken and flanderised until it barely recognises the vision that you could clearly see was going somewhere lmao.
#snowdd.txt#for irl reasons this'll be the only criticism/complaining for now#gonna very much focus on positivity as much as I can#might keep rambling tomorrow let's see ig kjadh
5 notes
·
View notes