#like be a kind and generous person (from everything i've seen) but also don't give the people what they want

[utilitycaster]

this was a good panel and I'm glad I watched it specifically because Taliesin deservedly has a reputation for coming up with fairly philosophical concepts behind his D&D characters, but also on another level he is just like "what if there were just wretched guy with so many things wrong with them. fucked up, right?" and it nearly always slaps

[amelikos]

Thinking about the portrayal of ancestry in Horizons.

[snitchbo]

I dont know how to explain why this is important

But let's not forget that Parkour Civilization is a meritocracy. A socialist autocratic meritocracy.

I feel people don't dwell on this fact enough, opting to just focus on the capitalist allegories, which is awesome bc the allegory is strong and well made, but the literal government seperate from allegory is ALSO very well made and unique, i mean I've never seen a fictional government quite like it, and it's impressive.

People often struggle to conceive the thought of another government or societal idea, and Evbo managed to make an entire government and social norm completely different from any of our own.

Like, let's break this government (or lack of) down.

Parkour Civilization has a sole and all-powerful ruler, The Champion. Which makes the society autocratic with a dictator.

The "businesses" ( housing stores, buying food and blocks, etc. ) are collectivley owned, not belonging to a single person but rather the community. Especially in higher layers, people receive as much as they give to their society. If they work, they get food, they do extra tasks, they get blocks. It's essentially a Marxist Leninist socialist society, but one that's heavily affected by the meritocracy, which can make it seem more capitalist leaning.

Speaking of Meritocratic society, people often mistake the meritocratic aspects as being outright capitalistic, like the social hierarchies and needing to parkour for basic necessities. HOWEVER this is because the society is structured based on your merits in parkour, those with a higher skill level are placed higher in the social chain. Thats why the Parkour Champion is a dictator, because they're the person who is THE BEST at parkour, making them the most capable to lead society according to meritocracy.

In any case, the fact that people are forced to parkour ALL the time is pretty understandable, considering this government is based on merit. They're encouraging people to show off and practice their parkour because their skill level is the only thing to get them anywhere in society. Based on their merits, they get their bare essentials, and if they have particularly good skill levels, they can rank up in society and have access to better resources.

People also always talk about how Evbo didn't make food and resources accesable for free without parkour, which is kind of where the capitalist lens takes over because those things ARE free. There isn't a system of currency in Parkour Civilization. it's all just MERITS. The fact they can die from parkour and the fact they use language like "buy" and "sell" makes it seem capitalistic, but they dont work and receive currency. The currency is infinite as long as their SKILL SET allows it. People had to worry about the consequence of dying from parkour, which is what made it scarce and less accesable, people werent willing to try. Evbo, however, gave them the ability to try again without consequence, which pretty much DOES make everything free, as free as it gets. They have infinite "currency" based on their skills, and theres no consequence for failing or trying again.

I also feel that when people beg Evbo or the future generations to turn Parkour Civilization into more of a communist society, they're completely ignoring the worldbuilding. That is an insane leap to make, from a society based on parkour abilities to having nothing to do with parkour? "Well, they can still parkour!" They could, but you'd be removing the vitality of it completely. I mean, imagine asking the states to become fully communist? It's an insane change that their society would never make, and thats not the end goal. Society can be functional and good without our interpretation of a utopic government because every society is different.

I love the government in Parkour Civilization. Please hear this. And ask me questions or talk to me about it.

[astrobydalia]

Astro knowledge pt. 2

work by astrobydalia

Cancer rules hotels, motels, etc. Hotels are all about hospitality, making people feel welcomed, comfortable, provide for basic needs like a bed, food, etc. Of course this will differ based on quality and the kind of place but in general places designated to provide shelter and a place to stay are ruled by Cancer

When I learned this it made a lot of sense cause my mom has Groom in Cancer and 7th house ruler in the 4th house and she met her fs at a hotel. I know a couple who has Cancer ASC in their composite chart and they met at a hotel

Jupiter is a very unpredictable planet and a negative manifestation of it is that it can make things grow uncontrollably without reliable results. Jupiter can give blessings yes but it does not guarantee success. Those blessings are just opportunities but it's up to you what to do with them.

Astrologically, the key to success is Saturn. That's why success is so hard to obtain and it's a symbol of status or accomplishment. And yes this applies to whatever it is you consider success. Saturn is not about obtaining success in itself, it's about growth, the way we feel accomplished and successful as humans is when we feel like we've grown and flourished overtime. That's why it doesn't matter what your definition of success is, in order to get it you need to mature and go through sacrifices and lessons related to your Saturn placement.

MC/10th house = what success means to you Saturn = also related to what success means to you, but it can specifically tell you how to get it

Moon is related to wealth that's why it is exalted in Taurus!

Moon in a man's chart indicates his wife because Moon symbolizes the divine feminine. Venus is important too but ultimately a man will commit to a woman that satisfies his Moon energy. That's why it is often said that men marry someone like their moms or the way a man treats his mom is how he's gonna treat his wife

5th house rules your creative endeavors and the 11th house rules your public/clients/fanbase/etc. That's also why 11th house is related to money you make in your career (2nd from 10th). If you wanna have your own business you gotta look at both the 5th and 11th houses

Something I don't see people mention much (maybe because its obvious) is that Libra energy makes things to be balanced in itself because Libra is all about avoiding any extremes. Libra makes this to be on the "elevated" or positive side but always keeping it moderate. For example, if you have Libra ruling your money houses your income could be averagely decent, like you could make good money (cause, Venus) but you're not insanely rich either or it does not appear that you are (cause Libra also rule appearances).

Aquarius rules heavy cold winds (you know like those very heavy and erratic winds), that’s why it also rules over airports and planes. I've also seen astrologers say that back in the day, Aquarius used to rule over sailing of bigger boats which also needed heavier winds in order to move

We all know Leo rules inner child. One thing about children is that when you're a kid you kinda don't have a concept of others being their own person and having completely different lives (that's something Aquarius brings awareness to, that's why its the humanitarian), but rather kids tend to assume everyone lives the same way as they do. That's what happens with Leo astrologically, they tend to not understand or fathom or be interested in things that go beyond them or their experience. Their own perspective of life is their whole world and what they will project on everything much like the Sun project its own light into the world. In the case of very unhealthy Leo energy this can go as far as actively minimizing other's experiences and perspectives. When Leo does try to understand others, they have a tendency to circle it back to something they can relate to or is relevant to them or they can understand

There's also another side of Leo that rules teenage years since that’s the period of our lives where we are finding our identity/expression and also where we start to become more interested in romance and sex

In composite, the ASC is how the relationship started and how it generally comes across as but the 7th house is the dynamic the two people have between them, how they actually interact with each other

Both Aquarius and Pisces are the last two of the zodiac wheel and both relate to themes of evolving as human and elevating spiritually but because of this, these signs are the hardest to develop healthily and many people fail to do so. That's why you see many Aquarius and Pisces placements with a god complex or huge entitlement cause both share this sentiment of feeling 'different', more elevated or special than everyone else

Venus finds fall in Virgo bc Venus is a sex goddess, she rules abundance, sensuality, pleasure and indulgence. Virgo on the other hand is the virgin, she's minimalistic, cerebral and modest, she’s too much of a “prude” for Venus.

Since Pisces is the most empathetic sign, its opposite Virgo is one of the most unkind signs unfortunately. Pisces wants to find the beauty in all things and people (Venus exaltation) while Virgo wants to find the flaws and everything that is wrong and needs to be improved or fixed. Pisces is about accepting the "soul" of things while Virgo is attached to an idea of how things should be. That's also why Venus finds falls in Virgo because Venus is related to kindness (this does not mean Virgo Venus people are inherently unkind, this can manifest in any unhealthy virgo placement, it's just an astrological explanation)

Domicile/exaltation is not always positive. When a sign exalts a planet it means that it can enhance both its positive AND negative qualities. That's why exalted mars can manifest as toxic masculinity or why exalted Venus can manifest as textbook enabling behaviour. On the flip side, planets are its fall/debilitation are challenging placements because the positive qualities of the planet are weakened but at the same time its negative qualities can be neutralized. For example, Mercury debilitated can be less prone to pointless rambles and have a more focused intellectual approach, debilitated Venus can be less compliant, etc

The energy that rules horror astrologically is Pisces/12th house/Neptune, we usually associate it just with dreams and idolization but it actually has a creepy and twisted side to it. Neptune is all about blurring the boundaries of reality including what we judge to be good or bad (Virgo). It rules over dreams AND nightmares. Not only that but Neptune energy does not understand the difference between a dream and a nightmare. This characteristic can range from blindness to red flags all the way to having rather morbid fascinations.

Following the above, the association of 12th house with nightmares is also explained by Saturn finding its joy is this house (the so called 'bad spirit', the never-ending burdens that come to haunt you). However, as I explained earlier in the post, Saturn is the key to success so this means Saturn is the key to help you achieve your dreams (12th house)

Pisces/Neptune energy rules spirituality but at its lowest it can also be the most superficial and vain sign (again, the negative side of Venus exaltation) because Pisces also rules illusions and idolization. It can focus so much on portraying an ideal image that it does not dive deep within, wants to escape reality and live a fake ideal

In terms of performance, Leo is theoretically better at sex than Scorpio

How to read the chart of a Nation + some observations

Sun signifies the characteristic of the rulers and it also symbolizes what that country is all about if that makes sense. For example USA is Cancer Sun and they've always been known for they patriotism and how they're very attached to their past as a nation.

Moon represents the people (civilians, population, the society). The energy you will likely experience by actually spending enough time there and start integrating yourself with the people. For example New York has Aries Moon and a relative of mine who used to live there once told me jokingly "with all the hustle and normalized criminality sometimes it feels like a war zone here"

Ascendant is the general national identity they present, the first thing that comes to mind when you think about that place. I've also noticed the stereotypes of a nation a lot of times relate to its ASC. For example Canada (Toronto) is Libra ASC and they’re known for being polite and nice to everyone. Japan (Tokyo) has Virgo ASC and their known for being super diligent and clean (think Marie Kondo). USA (nation) is Sagittarius ASC and they’re known for being loud, entitled, optimistic, multicultural, a massive country, cowboys and country music, etc.

work by astrobydalia

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[orpheuslookingback]

oof man I've been loving severance in general but I think that last episode is the first one I have like lots of Thoughts about that I feel like I can at least kind of string together lol. Like I was moderately worried about what direction the Dead Wife thing was going to go in. Because it would have been so easy (and kind of disappointing) for her to just ultimately be an object that exists as a goal/motivator for other characters and not a person (as is common with Dead Wife characters, both literal and not so literal); that's sort of what she's been so far, with just the tease that she could be more. And unless they drop the ball big time (which god I hope they don't), this episode already made it clear: she IS more. Like revealing her to be both physically AND mentally alive at this point in the story is such a good writing choice and feels SO crucial to escaping from some of the really cliché permutations that these kind of basic story arcs/character archetypes can fall into.

I know everyone's been doing the orpheus/eurydice comparisons and now I know people are talking about how mark and gemma are now both actually the orpheus to each other's eurydice, but it's also this: gemma has been split into who knows how many people. She's his eurydice. She's his orpheus. And she's her own orpheus, too. Because she gets herself out of the underworld and then, not remembering she has, she's sent right back down again. And she hesitates and turns around one more time. But she doesn't know. She doesn't even know what she's really looked back at. She doesn't know the world she's sent away. Not until she's back in the underworld, and she's eurydice again.

Also! To interplay him remembering her, give us a classic Dead Wife Sequence- complete even with some of the classic images! The beautiful woman smiling in nature, lying in bed, looking at you, the light warm for the very first time- with the cold, stark reminder that she isn't actually dead, and more than that is still conscious and trying to get out and find him- is SUCH a cool move. Like it totally flips the idea of the Dead Wife Sequence on its head. It's not just grief anymore. It's not just using a lost person as a prop that our hero fights on in memory of. It's the Dead Wife Sequence as horror.

Because she's still the Dead Wife and yet at the same time it dramatically shifts her role in the story, right? Because it turns out everything she is to Mark, he is to her. This unreachable person who you now know isn't dead but who you cannot get to and you cannot know the true present reality of you can only take the word of people you don't totally trust or know. And so, they are dead. But now you know it's only to you. Because we've seen them both now, and we know they're both not just alive, they're fighting.

("she's not dead, she's just not here")

She's not your Dead Wife but you can't help the fact that in your memory, in your mind, she is. So you're the one, in a way, that's killing her. And you're her Dead Husband. "He's moved on" and you know that's a lie but does it really matter until you see him? Until he's real again? Because until then, you're both choking on ghosts.

And the ghosts aren't even really there.

[chimerafeathers]

the concept of intentional boredom/tedium in video games is very much a "your mileage may vary" kind of thing and i go back and forth about it in different situations. where does it work? where does it feel earned/worth the mental toll? why am i gonna play a game that is trying to make me miserable?

i can understand this not being the case for everyone (ymmv, after all) but for ISaT i was so fucking fully on board with the repetitive tedium of it all. rubbing my grubby little hands together and going yesssss, yesssssss, make my immersive gameplay experience directly emulate the exact frustrations and anxieties and mind-numbing breakdowns of the player character. remind me, at every turn, the toll this would take on the person living it. make me live their inner monologue before it's ever verbalized on screen.

how strong you feel, compared to the party you're inevitably leaving behind, how weak they seem now. how annoying it is to cut down these same enemies again and again, always pointlessly getting in your way (oh, how convenient that Siffrin feels the same way so intensely that you can get an item that lets him scare them off by sheer force of will before they attack you!). since when was the King's battle--so terrifying, so impossible before--so easy? can't this go faster? you've heard this all before.

let me skip ahead, loop around, treat my character my body Siffrin as disposable, take the fast and easy way to reach the next goal when you're on the verge of an exciting breakthrough, this loop doesn't matter anyway. but ohh, this next loop might be The One, better do this one right and follow the script to perfection. make all the jokes and say all the right things to get the lovely bonding dialogue so you can carry the Best Version of Everyone through to the end. that'll give you the Good Ending, right? can't hurt to try, right? you don't really believe it but this time will fix everything, right?

how generous and wonderful to have so many shortcuts at hand! dissociating zoning out to skip repetitive dialogue, splitting your head open on a rock slipping on a banana peel in the town to loop right to the floor you need, suuuuurely all of this stuff is purely for the Player's Convenience and won't have any psychological impact on our dear protagonist such that it gets slammed back into the player's face as a stomach-dropping reminder that someone's moment-to-moment experience in this time loop still matters, still carries over, still gets riddled with scars even if they can't be seen!

i've played & watched enough games that trivialize/hand-wave game mechanics that it's pretty easy to detach myself from the minutiae of video game decision-making. "this input gets the Good Response" -> "i will continue doing this input." "this option will be more efficient" -> "might as well save some time then." but this game would not let me stop thinking about consequence.

picking Siffrin's favorite food makes them happy! :) it's also the option that makes Bonnie the happiest! yay! -> i keep picking their favorite food -> Siffrin gradually grows sick of something that once brought him joy -> oh. right. that...makes sense, huh.

okay i asked the King what i needed, mann there won't be any tears after the fight is over so i'll have to do the whole ending scene again and that takes a while and i reeeeally wanna talk to Loop, maybe i'll just lose on purpose this time -> OH. RIGHT. THIS IS MAYBE THE MOST PAINFUL WAY FOR SIFFRIN TO DIE BOTH PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY HUH. -> never gonna do that again actually!!!!! the ending isn't that long!!!!

banana peel time! we've got places to be and mysteries to solve! -> (you're a living comedy sketch.) (you wonder if you'll ever be able to smell bananas again without wanting to vomit.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

it's always cute to see Isabeau's reactions! pick the options that make him blush :3 -> (disgusting. manipulative. it's no wonder he thinks he likes you, you made him feel that way.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry siffrin NO he liked you before any of this happened please don't think of yourself that way--

maybe it won't hit the same for every player (what game can expect to do that?) but holy fuck it hit for me. the way the mechanics let you fall into familiar gamey rhythms but constantly, constantly remind you that this is Siffrin's life you're playing with. the way you end up perfectly in step in the worst ways. muscle memory and habit built up so well that you both stumble when something changes. devastating and delicious

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[twstowo]

I've seen fan art about what if the reader/yuu look like one of the bullies from Azul's past? I can no longer get the idea out of my head.

What makes it worse is that Azul loves them, but he also can't stand them because of his memories of the bully who looks like them.

♡︎This felt personal for a moment or two.

♡︎Also, what Fanart Anon??? Don't just leave me curious in here!!! I want to see what are you talking about.

He could spend most of his day just staring at you, wondering how such a wonderful person could have such a face. He longs to spend time with you, to show you how generous his soul is by offering you things no one else could ever give. He wants you to see how much better he is compared to all the other students at Night Raven College. He craves your attention, sending Floyd and Jade to deliver small gifts in the name of the Mostro Lounge.

But as soon as you approach him, and his mind registers how much you resemble one of his past bullies, something shifts. His thoughts lock in, and he can't stop the glare or the venomous words that spill from his mouth. He no longer resembles the kind Azul who gave you presents and offered you free meals at the Mostro Lounge. Instead, he becomes the cruel and lonely octomer who used to spend his days reading and brewing potions in the cold depths of the Coral Sea, far away from the other kids his age who mocked him for how he looked. He's filled with anger, angry that the world stole the childhood we only get to enjoy once, angry that he was always the one being ridiculed, angry that he was never anyone's first choice.

But you… you don’t treat him like that. You’ve never made fun of him, you’ve never chosen someone else over him. You've only been kind.

Every time you approach, his chest tightens with conflicting emotions. Part of him wants to retreat into the cold, dark shell he's built for himself over the years, while the other part, the softer part that craves connection, wants to reach out, to bask in your kindness. But he can’t let himself do that. Not when you look like them. Not when you remind him of everything he once despised.

He doesn’t understand why you bother to talk to him. Someone so perfect, so charming, what could you possibly want from him other than to mock him? You might think you're different, but he can see it in your eyes, you’re just like the others.

Yet, even when he hurls all those horrible things at you, you don’t flinch. You stand by his side, unwavering. You see right through him, and he hates that more than anything.

It takes him months to slowly open up, to crawl out of the hole he retreats into every time you walk by. Gradually, he stops sending Floyd and Jade to deliver his gifts for him. Instead, he tries to give them to you himself, but more often than not, he gives up halfway. He’ll stand there, flowers in hand, pacing the VIP room, wondering if it’s really worth it.

But you’re worth the struggle. He repeats those words over and over, convincing himself that you’re different, that you’re someone who will be there for him no matter what.

With one final deep breath, he opens the door to the VIP room, telling himself he won’t back down this time. He won’t do anything else until he gives you the flowers and finally apologizes for all the times he’s been so rude when all you ever wanted was to be his friend

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Two

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 15k

Chapter Warnings: there is maybe miscommunication?? in the sense that nico thinks poppy wants one thing and is giving her a chronic case of the over-thinkys, cursing, angst kinda?, fluff, harry potter slander (sorry), rangers slander (not sorry), being set up, mentions of controlling parents again, nico being ravaged by a green-eyed monster, nico being clingy, and mopey, and grumpy, luke being somewhat confrontational, there is also maybe something that rhymes with a miss! don't want to miss that!!

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter One)

A/N: sorry this took a while I honestly hated everything I wrote every day for a solid week lmao buttt things are kicking into gear now the next chapter is one I've drafted while this one I had to wing so hopefully will be out a little quicker. I know these two are mega annoying with their over thinking but it serves a purpose (I know no other way of existing than to overthink)

please please send me any thoughts any opinions I'd love to hear it whatever it may be thank you!!! again I'll try get another chapter out soon!

Poppy

If anyone were to ask Poppy what kind of impact her older brother, Oliver, has had on her life over the years, she would probably tell them very little. Being 4 years and some change apart has meant that any time Poppy has entered a new space in her life, Oliver has just left it. 

When she started her freshman year in high school, he was starting college. When she was starting college, he was in the beginnings of kickstarting his career. And when she started laying the foundations of her own career, he was too far gone for her to ever catch up.

Their childhood was spent in constant competition - Poppy envying Oliver for being their mother’s favourite child and Oliver envying Poppy for being their father’s - the two of them grew up battling it out to make the other look bad.

Oliver never quite grew out of it.

But, to say she hasn’t learned anything from watching him her whole life would be a lie. A lot of who Poppy is as a person, as a daughter, a colleague, a friend, is more often than not based on who Oliver is not - though the lessons he has taught her have been somewhat inadvertent. 

Poppy likes to think she is independent. She’s seen over the years how much her brother has relied on their parents and the rest of their extended family and suffered terribly for it, always facing their judgements for the decisions he makes - securing himself a lifelong residency under their father’s thumb. He has modelled his own life after the man who raised them, constantly seeking his approval, never quite grasping how much scrutiny this would open himself up to. Poppy very quickly learned that if she wants any semblance of peace in life, she has to source it herself - otherwise, it comes with a million strings attached, all of which are constantly being masterfully pulled by the many hands in her family.

That’s how she navigated her education, getting herself into a great communications and media management programme at Fordham - despite coming from a long line of Wharton alumni and donors - and graduating with honours. It’s how she maintains her friendships, surrounding herself with loving, warm-hearted people who genuinely care for others - a complete contrast to the social circles she had grown up in and around. And it’s how she thrives in her career, working her way up in an organisation and foundation in which their sole intent is to do good and give back. If she achieves such things on her own merit, they can’t be used to control her.

He has taught her how to stick up for herself, which comes off the back of her independence. For years she’s watched her parents pick apart Oliver’s life. His grades, his relationships, his career, his house, the way he’s raising his kids, it’s all up for inquiry in the eyes of Priscilla and Philip Jensen. She’s watched as he’s sat there while they dissect and demolish every little thing about his existence - as he’s invited them into his own home, and let them verbally burn it to the ground. Poppy has too much pride to do the same. 

She remembers when she rented her first solo apartment - a major step in her life, something she was so inherently proud of she couldn’t even put it into words - and her parents had come around to, in her mother’s words, assess the investment. 

It’s a little small, Poppy, was met with, I’m only one person living here, Mom and I don’t much care for the location was contended with, It’s a good thing you’re not living here. They’d turned their noses up at her renting in the first place, but buying a property was out of the picture when she still had student loans to pay, and would mean borrowing money from them, and she wasn’t going to throw herself down that well with no way out.

She’s protective over the things she has worked hard for, and she won’t let anyone bring her down.

Oliver has also taught her a lot about forgiveness, and empathy. This comes from all of the above - from witnessing the path he has taken in life, or the one that was chosen for him, and seeing the kind of person that comes out of the other side. Seeing how the nettles that line such a path sting at the bare skin of his legs, causing him to take much more deliberate, and some may say calculated, steps, even if this means casting others to the edge to protect himself. Seeing how the bricks that line it appear to have been perfectly laid out for him, but are deceptive when stepped upon - uneven and jagged, with the sole intention to trip him up. Seeing how the path winds and loops, and no matter how far down it he goes, the end is never in sight.

And so when he and Poppy argue whenever they’re both home, when he makes digs at her life, or tries to put her down in front of everyone else, she sees him for what he is. She understands the deflection of blame and hurt, and she takes it in her stride. She applies this logic to others, as well.

Poppy believes more than anything in forgiveness. In giving others the chance to be better the second time around - Lord knows she wants the same - but with this comes the expectation that someone has to have understood their missteps in order not to follow the same route again.

But therein comes another lesson Oliver has taught her, or tried to teach her, at least. She’s always thought they’re ridiculous sayings, lessons she has rejected for so long but both things she thinks about a lot, especially lately.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Or beggars can’t be choosers.

It’s usually said following a bribe from their parents to get their own way - Oliver would rather take than question what anyone else stands to gain, and Poppy is far too sceptical to usually bend to any other person’s whim.

The thought of questioning the validity of a promise of gold does bite away at her - makes her fiddle with her fingers and chew at the inside of her cheek in contemplation whenever it comes to mind - but who is she to polish at the exterior? Why would she file and buff until all she has is a rock when she could leave something to be sparkling and beautiful?

Especially if that sparkling something is held by Nico, and comes in the form of picking back up their friendship where it had been so abruptly left off - as if it had never been thawed, never been marred by their time apart. As if she hasn’t spent the last 4 months blaming herself, wondering what she did wrong. 

But the part of her that worries about the why of it all is at war with a side that is enjoying the reconciliation too much to care.

She just needs to reject her own nature to question and over analyse a good thing - needs to let herself bask in what she has wanted back for so long. She needs to be patient. She’ll figure him out sooner or later, if he doesn’t explain himself, first.

It has barely taken a day for their dynamic to shift straight back into its rightful place - for them to be in each other’s constant orbit - either in person or texting non stop in the rare hours they spend apart.

Nico had seen Poppy and Nia off in a cab in the early hours of New Years Day, had made sure she texted him when she got home and was safe in bed, and then had showed up later that morning with juices and pastries for the 3 of them to eat together after texting if she was awake. And when Nia had gone back to her own apartment, he’d spent the entire day with Poppy, lounging around on her couch and watching Criminal Minds until they both fell asleep in the late afternoon. They had cooked and eaten dinner together before he left back to his place so he could get up early for practice.

It’s hard not to immediately slip back into a routine with him - when everything feels so familiar. She had never really reached the acceptance stage of her grief, after all. She’d been stuck floating around bargaining and depression, she thinks. She had never truly let him go, and so it felt more appropriate to press play on things, resuming rather than starting over from the beginning. Accepting rather than dwelling on the millions of unanswered questions that float around the forefront of her mind.

And with that, comes Nico making himself at home in her office while she listens in on a virtual meeting on her first day back working her normal job after New Years Day. 

He’d come in without knocking while she was on a call after his morning practice had finished, had attempted to busy himself looking over the pictures that lined her walls in an attempt not to distract her - like he could ever be around and not be distracting - and had thrown himself down on the chair on the other side of her desk. It’s the constant shuffling around that captures her attention, like he can’t get comfortable, and the little huffs and puffs he lets out as it starts to frustrate him. 

She tries not to visibly react - tries not to let her gaze follow him or roll her eyes - and give away to the other participants of her Zoom meeting that anyone is with her, but he’s making it incredibly difficult for her to focus. She’s grateful her contribution to the meeting has already happened, not having much more to offer, or much need to pay too close attention to what’s going on, or she’d be throwing something at him and gesturing off-camera for him to cut it out.

She watches as he sits legs spread, legs crossed, legs pressed together, sits sideways with his legs slung over the arm, and then tries the other way. She barely manages to make out her boss, Elaine, concluding the call before it ends, making sure to mutter out an adequate sign off to the team. 

Poppy makes sure to leave the call after the chorus of goodbyes and thank yous, before slamming her laptop shut, the second monitor going black as the computer goes into sleep mode.

“What on Earth are you doing?” She questions as Nico seems to be wiggling into the seat opposite hers.

“This chair doesn’t feel right,” he grumbles, picking himself up and throwing himself back down into it with another huff, testing another angle or position only to clearly come up short.

“Whatever you say, Goldilocks,” Poppy rolls her eyes, standing from her own chair with the sudden need to stretch her legs. “It’s the same chair I’ve always had in here.”

“It’s like I can feel Jack’s butt imprint in the leather.” 

“Oh so that’s what this is,” she gestures with a hand towards the chair, where there definitely isn’t an imprint of anyone’s butt. “You’re jealous of Jack’s butt.”

“I just think you should stop letting him hang out in here so much, he’s ruining the furniture.” Nico frowns, and Poppy can’t quite tell if he’s serious or not. “I can practically smell him, too.”

“I’ve tried, unfortunately if you feed a stray one time, they just keep coming back for more.” Poppy starts to gather her things while Nico does whatever it is he’s doing. “And my office does not smell like Jack Hughes, I have a diffuser right here, the scent is literally called Happiness.”

“Tell him he can’t sit in my chair next time he’s here,” he suggests, ignoring her other comment, standing alongside Poppy and offering her a hand. She tries not to get too flustered at how quickly he has reclaimed anything in her office as his.

“You tell him,” she argues, handing Nico her empty I Heart NJ mug and small plate she had used when eating her breakfast at her desk this morning - a toasted cinnamon-raisin bagel and some apple slices. “I can leave you in here on your own for a few hours if you want, let you work on imprinting your butt back into the seat?” She checks her bag to make sure she has the necessities, phone, keys, wallet, lip balm, spearmint gum and a mini perfume. “Or, better yet, why not just pee over the threshold of my door, mark your territory.”

“Do you think that would keep him away?” Nico questions, instinctively following Poppy as she starts to head out of her office.

“For some reason I don’t think Jack would abide by the typical rules of the animal kingdom, so no.” She fishes her keys out so she can lock up behind the two of them. 

“It would probably mess with the whole Happiness smell, too, huh?”

“Exactly.” A couple of her colleagues are working from home this week, and anyone else with an office near hers is in a meeting that she had managed to get out of with the whole auctioneer thing, and so she and Nico stand alone outside the room as she realises she doesn’t even know why he’s here. “Did you actually need something or were you just here to insult my furniture?”

She had text him when she woke up this morning, responding to a message he had sent from practice - a video of Jack stumbling coming off the ice that he’d made one of the social media guys send over to him, his laugh echoing in the background. They’d carried on the text conversation throughout the morning, and the part of Poppy’s daily routine dedicated to missing him has very quickly been scribbled over by the need to keep up with his constant attempts to be close to her.

It’s only been a day since New Years, and Nico has been putting in every effort to make up for lost time. They had spent most of yesterday together, and it’s seeming like, even in the midst of a working day, he wants to carry that on.

She can’t think of a solid 5 minutes since their time on the rooftop where they haven’t been in some form of communication, other than the hours she had been asleep. They’d returned to Jack’s apartment to an almost thunderous applause, and for the rest of the party had remained side by side.

Poppy had only slightly worried about her best friend’s reaction, having left her in a room full of mostly unfamiliar people on such a big holiday. But Nia had been fine with it - had actually encouraged her to take her time when Poppy had originally told her the plan to get some air with Nico - and so any guilt had dissipated with the shit-eating grin that took over Nia’s face at the sight of her being ushered back inside with a large hand on the small of her back. 

A hand that had stayed there pretty much all night.

Jack had been just as happy, congratulating the two of them on getting over themselves and offering them shots to ring in the New Year properly. Poppy was just thankful he’d snapped out of his weird are you enjoying yourself time loop and actually started enjoying the party, himself. 

She’d been fielding questions from both of them about it for the past 36 hours, and she was actually relieved that it was Nico who had poked his head into her office and interrupted her meeting rather than Jack.

She doesn’t entirely know how to explain what is going on with her and Nico, and the longer she can avoid answering questions about it in person - where she is unable to hide the flush of her cheeks or the stuttering of her words - the better.

The questions also tend to arouse that morbid curiosity she has been suppressing, the one that makes her skin itch and tongue tingle with the need to ask why?

“Timo’s throwing me a surprise party for my birthday.”

“He’s doing a real good job at the surprise aspect of it, I see.” Poppy had heard about the party before, back in early December, when there were whispers around the team of something being arranged. She’d dwelled a little too long on what excuse she could come up with to get out of going, only for an invitation never to get extended in the first place. 

It hadn’t surprised her, any ties she had to Timo, with him being one of Nico’s closest friends, had pretty much severed with the ones she had to Nico. He had no reason to invite her to the party when he knew as well as she did, Nico wouldn’t want her there.

Nico must know that she wasn’t invited, she thinks, and dread starts to bubble up within her at the conversation they’re about to have. 

She no longer has to make up an excuse or fake plans to get out of going - she has something else secured, something she won’t be able to get out of now, no matter how much she may want to.

“Jesper told me, he knows I hate surprises. It’s gonna be on Sunday.” He says with an expectant smile tugging at his lips. “Will you be there?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m inviting you now.”

“You can’t invite people to a party you’re not supposed to know about.” Poppy quickly decides the best way to go about this is to be casual, and standing outside her office waiting for tensions to rise is anything but. She starts to make her way through to the back of the offices to discard her things in the staff kitchen, Nico falling into step just behind her.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” He practically whines, his tone carrying an eyre of desperation. “C’mon, are you coming or not?”

“Not,” Poppy cringes as casual somehow sounds curt, pushing the door to the kitchen open with her shoulder, and immediately following up with, “I already have other plans that I can’t cancel.”

“You made plans on my birthday?” He sounds like he’s been kicked in the gut, and guilt starts to creep up Poppy’s spine. 

“Well, for starters, your birthday is Thursday, I’m free then.” She says in the hopes it will lessen the blow. He probably has other plans with other people, but she doesn’t mind doing something with him on the day. “And, again, I wasn’t invited, I didn’t know my plans would clash.”

She knows she isn’t being convincing. Something like this never stays a secret within the confines of the organisation they both work in, especially where their mutual friends are concerned, but she hadn’t intentionally made plans for that day specifically - she hadn’t made the plans, at all.

When she turns to face him with an outstretched hand for the cup and plate he’s holding, he has that pouty, sad puppy look etched into his features, and she wishes she’d stayed facing the other way.

“Who makes plans on a Sunday?”

“Clearly a lot of people.” She loads her things into the dishwasher, closing the door until it’s only just ajar so that it can be fully loaded before it is turned on.

“Is it with Nia? You could bring her along, I’m sure if you let Timo know-,”

“My plans aren’t with Nia, and I can’t invite a plus one to a party that I, for the third time, was not invited to.” 

She really doesn’t mean to keep harping on about it, the memory of dodging conversations about a party she hadn’t been considered for hurting her enough, but it’s the only thing she can think to say to put an end to the conversation. To her, it’s obvious - clear-cut and end-of-story level stuff - but Nico is clearly taking what she’s saying the wrong way. She isn’t trying to hint at an invitation, isn’t trying to make him feel guilty for the fact his best friend had thought he would rather not have her there - she just doesn’t want him to keep probing. She knows it’s naive to think he’ll leave it alone, though.

“I’ll talk to Timo,” Nico decides, his posture straightening.

“Nico-,”

“I doubt he’d mind any of your friends coming.”

“I have a date.”

Poppy sees no use in dancing around it any longer, not with how oblivious and determined he’s being - so insistent on her coming to a party he shouldn’t even know about. She mentally curses Jesper for even telling him about it in the first place. 

She honestly doesn’t know why she hadn’t just said it straight up to begin with, but she has a funny feeling around turning him down.

“You have a date?”

“You don’t have to say it like I’m some sort of gremlin.” Her offence is only partly a joke. She knows he didn’t mean it like that.

“This Sunday?”

“As we have already established.”

“I didn’t know you were dating.”

“You clearly need to check your emails more often, I actually sent out a state-wide memo just last week.” She sarcastically jibes.

“The last time we talked-,” he immediately cuts himself off, clearly thinking better of getting into that discussion right now after having avoided it for the past 2 days. “Who is it?”

“He’s a family friend,” she shrugs, dismissively, not really wanting to have this discussion with him either. She just wants the conversation to end, if she’s being honest. She has a lot to do with her day and the longer they stay in this small kitchenette talking about this, the less time she has to get her actual work done. Her nonchalant tone is an attempt to singe the ends the conversation, leaving no room for it to grow, but obviously this sparks a whole new topic for Nico, who just won’t let her be.

“You let your mom set you up?”

Poppy feels like a part of her has forgotten how much of her life she had shared with Nico, before. All the little nuggets of information sitting out in the ether, caught up in the cracks of their friendship. But, God, does he know her well.

The date had been an unfortunate consequence of her missing out on family Christmas - the only way her mom would forgive her was for her to finally agree to let her set her up. It’s something Poppy has been swerving for years, something she had confided in Nico about in the past - how her mom would always call her at night just to make comments about her relationships, or lack thereof, and always try to elbow her way into setting Poppy up with a well-to-do son of a socialite friend who she’d just ran into at some pointless gala.

She’d shared it all with Nico because she felt safe to do so - felt seen, felt understood.

And then, she had no one to confide in.

Maybe that had contributed to her lowering her guard to her mother’s insistence - not having anyone to vent to about it, no one to talk her down or hype her up, and so her resolve in standing up to her family has slowly but surely whittled way into fine scraps.

“Can’t avoid the inevitable forever.” She shrugs, not quite liking how disappointed in her he sounds, not daring to look over at him to see it plastered across his stupidly-handsome face. “And I’m on my final warning with her after bailing on the holidays, so I can’t get out of it this time.”

“You could bring him to the party,” Nico suggests, “I could rope the guys into helping scare him off, buy you some time until your mom springs another insufferable Wolf of Wall Street type at you in 6 months.”

“Please don’t make me tell you the same thing a fourth time. I can’t do Sunday.” She says with an inarguable finality. Although, she does find it amusing how he automatically assumes she would want him to be scared off. She’s actually resigned herself to the potential of enjoying her date - not that she’d tell Nico that. “But I’ll do whatever you want on Thursday if you have any time spare?” 

“My family are coming over, I don’t know if I’ll be free at any point.” Despite how excited for that reunion she knows he will be, he sounds discouraged. Poppy’s shoulders droop a little too. “What about now? I’m done for the day, we could grab lunch? Get some time in together before I go to DC tomorrow?”

“You say that like you’re going on a 5 week excursion to Antarctica,” she snickers, “Or like we’ve spent 10 minutes apart in the last 24 hours.”

“It may be only 90 minutes on a plane, Poppy, but an away game is an all day thing, you know this. Plus, I have a lot of time to make up for.”

Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the mention of their time apart - like it’s a sordid secret that is supposed to stay unspoken. Bringing it up just reminds her of all the times she’s sat in her office waiting for him to knock, and she doesn’t quite like how casually he manages to invoke the memory.

She knows she told him she was okay with what little explanation he had to offer, but she also knows she let him off easy. She didn’t lie, though - the amount she had missed him had far outweighed the need for answers, especially at a time where she was so unsure about the possibility of settling the tension between them in the first place.

But now, with every time he initiates contact, her mind goes straight to thinking about what had made him cut it before.

She worries about overexposure. Worries about him having time to himself, time to process and time to breathe where he isn’t stressing about keeping up appearances for her.

She wants things to return to normal, wants to spend time with him, but, if this is what had been the problem in the first place, then maybe it’s best to give him that space to cool things off a little.

“So, lunch?”

“I can’t, I have to check out potential auctioneers for this fundraiser” She doesn’t like rejecting him, especially twice within one conversation - doesn’t like the doubt and anxiety that creeps up with a small antithetical voice that warns her, don’t push him away, Poppy, he might not ask again, but she really does have to work.

The fundraiser is in March, and their in-house auctioneer, Keith had decided to enter early retirement in December, having fallen ill and developed some kind of chronic vocal nodule issue. He has already moved out of state, and was no help in offering any sort of replacement. Apparently, Poppy had been told when she called a local agency that specialised in this thing, the auction industry is cut throat - no pun intended to Keith and his nodules - and the guys would rather see their long term, loyal customers suffer than provide any kind of assistance where they had upcoming events in dire need of an auctioneer.

Elaine had thrown the task straight onto the big stack of work Poppy already has to get through for the event, knowing how much she wants to impress her boss and secure further responsibilities and opportunities for the bigger foundation events in the future.

If Poppy had known that taking this on meant trawling around Hudson County sitting in on private auctions, only able to watch, pretty much scoring a bunch of old men on how quickly and how loudly they could yell, she would have delegated it to someone else. Only, she’s run out of good graces and task-trades in the past few months with her many attempts of avoiding working with Nico, so she has to put up and shut up. It’s her own personal version of hell.

“I could come with you?”

“You want to come watch auctions with me?” She asks, in almost-disbelief.

Surely he wouldn’t be so adamant about being around her if he didn’t truly want to - but does he know what he wants?

For as much time as they had spent together before - all the times she’d watched his practices and games, all the times he’d come over to eat lunch in her office, all the events they had done together for the foundation, all the time outside of the Rock they had spent together - he had never done this. Followed her around while she worked excruciatingly mundane tasks, just because.

“Yeah, why not?” He asks, like it’s normal for him to be tagging along. 

“‘Cause you’ll get super bored?” Bored in general or bored of her, she doesn’t quite know.

“Auctions are cool, my grandma used to take me and my brother and sister to them when we were kids.” Poppy barks out an unintentional laugh, eyes narrowing as she pushes herself off where she’s resting against the dishwasher and starts back towards the door. “Why is that funny?”

“I’m just picturing you holding up one of those little paddles and getting into arguments over someone’s coin collection.”

“I was more into trains.” He shrugs, following her as she makes her way toward the stairwell in the back corner of the offices.

“Of course you were.” She chuckles. The two of them walk for a moment in silence, starting down the stairs so she can drop by the PR department - her colleague Josh in possession of a binder of external talent and the locations in which they will be auctioning today. “You don’t have anything better to be doing?” She is genuinely worried that he doesn’t quite understand what he’s signing himself up for - that he thinks this is going to be fun, and is going to end up seriously disappointed and be put off hanging out with her again. 

“Than spending time with you? Never,” That makes her stomach twist in an entirely different way. 

“Charmer,” she rolls her eyes, willing her thoughts to be quieter and her heart to beat back into a steady pace. “Fine, I’m down. You’re driving, though.”

“Of course,” he smiles victoriously, like he seriously has absolutely nothing he would rather do than drive her around for the rest of his day - even when it’s supposed to be her time making up for technically missing his birthday.

“I just have to pick something up from Josh, do you wanna meet downstairs?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

The two of them enter the offices together, and Poppy tries not to acknowledge the conveyer belt of stares as they walk through to find Josh’s desk.

Josh had done the bulk of the work on the agency end of this project, making sure the foundation weren’t aligning themselves with anyone or anything that could blow back on them, and before the holidays, the pair had worked pretty closely to try and stitch up the gaping hole in their in-house talent pool. He’d somehow turned what Poppy considered the stupidest job she had ever been given into something maybe-possibly-fun. They’d worked a couple late nights back in Poppy’s office, Josh pulling up YouTube videos of different auctions and the two of them compiling a scorecard to assess their candidates on. He was one of the few people in the department Poppy didn’t mind spending time with for a project like this.

“Poppy!” Josh’s smile is wide as he stands up from behind his desk in the corner. He rounds the edge and pulls her into his embrace as soon as she is close enough, and the smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as she’s in front of him.

“Hey, Josh,” she smiles back as she pulls away, taking a measured step back so they aren’t standing too close. “I’m just here to steal your talent binder, if that’s alright?”

“Of course!” He rushes back around his desk to his filing cabinet, using a small key on his lanyard to open it and reaching in to retrieve the folder. “The auctioneers are the blue section,” he opens the folder and points to one of the sectioning tabs, “I put them in date order, they have different time slots so you should be able to get through a couple in a day.”

“Oh, that’s so helpful, thank you!” She takes the folder from his grasp and has a quick look through. She’s so used to having to figure out her own systems of working that it’s nice to have someone else put in the effort - especially someone as organised as Josh.

She looks down at his desk, everything neat and optimally placed. She’s always thought herself as a tidy person, but her own desk is cluttered in comparison. Where her pens are haphazardly thrown in the pot, some upside down, ends chewed to oblivion, his are all the right way up, capped with a lid and looking fresh out of the packet. He has no personal items, no picture frames, no Jack Hughes bobblehead that’s starting to get a bald patch from where it’s continuously set off throughout the day. There’s nothing pinned to the walls of his little cubby, but she supposes in his line of work, he doesn’t have kids that draw him stick-figure versions of himself and send them in as a thank you, or pictures from team events. 

“If you don’t find anyone by Friday, I have some time free in the morning, I could come help you?”

“I’ll try keep you posted,” she offers as a hopefully gentle rejection. She likes Josh, doesn’t mind his company, but he’ll most definitely steam-roll her into a decision, and if she’s going to spend her whole week doing this, she wants the end result to be of her own choosing. “But I think I’ll be alright.”

She has completely forgotten who she’d brought into the office with her until she hears a snorting laugh from behind her - a quick puff of air blown from his nose in amusement - and sees Josh’s eyes divert from her figure for the first time since he’d seen her come through.

“Oh! Hello, Nico, I didn’t see you there!”

“Joshua,” is the only thing he says in response, and when Poppy turns her head back to look at him, he wears an uncomfortable, clearly forced smile. His eyes don’t crinkle, cheeks don’t dimple, and his nose is scrunched in something akin to distain. 

She quickly remembers something Luke had once said to her about how much he hated dealing with the PR team, how they make him feel like a puppet and dismiss his autonomy - definitely not the word he had used at the time but she figured that’s what he was trying to get at - and realises Nico must feel the same. In an effort to quickly ease the tension, she takes a step back toward her friend. “We have to go, thanks again, Josh!”

She hears him call a response after her, throwing a wave behind her as she gently nudges Nico back toward the exit. The two of them make it to the parking lot in an almost comfortable silence, Poppy not wanting to call him out on his rude behaviour when she’d been the one to inadvertently force him into an environment that usually only brought him stress. 

If she brings it up, she brings attention to it, and he potentially realises she pushes him out of his comfort zone where it brings him no benefit and he stops wanting to be around her.

The way in which her thoughts so quickly spiral out of control when it comes to him is something that needs to be studied, she thinks.

He opens every door in the building for her, and even when they get to his car, he does the same.

When she’s jumping into the passenger seat, and she realises she doesn’t have to adjust it - already set into the optimal position for her to stretch out her legs - and notices the smiley face air freshener hung from his rear-view, from a multi-coloured multipack she had bought for him forever ago, she takes a deep breath.

She can’t let herself keep doing this - keep thinking and thinking to the point of exhaustion that everything she’s doing is wrong. 

She’s spending too much time with him, and he’s going to get bored of her. She’s not spending enough time with him, and he’s going to stop asking if she rejects him one too many times. The time she is spending with him is doing boring, mundane things and he’d rather be anywhere else.

She has to push her doubts and anxiety to the back of her mind and tell herself those oh-so-annoying words her brother loves so much.

Beggars can’t be choosers, Poppy.

If she wants Nico back in her life, has already promised him her forgiveness and initiated their reconciliation, she can’t be picky about how he goes about acting on it, can she? She just has to embrace the attention in the hopes it doesn’t go away, again. 

Their drive to the first venue hadn't taken long, a stroke of luck with minimal traffic at this time of day. They find a perfect parking space just around the corner from the auction house, and after a short, brisk walk, they step into the welcoming warmth of the building. Nico holds the door open for Poppy, his gesture gentle yet firm, ushering her inside before closing it securely behind her.

“What’s the game plan?” He asks, lowly, his broad shouldered stature towering over hers as he steps up behind her. They hadn’t talked too much on the way over, Nico lining up a playlist that drifted through the speakers of the car and filled the air around them so there was little need for words.

She can’t figure out if she’s thankful for the reprieve in conversation or nervous over what he could possibly be thinking so hard about.

“Didn’t I warn you how dull this would be? There is no game plan.” Poppy peels the gloves from her hands and puts them in a bundle in her pocket, looking around the entrance to assess their situation. She was told by a woman at the agency that her name would be given to the guy who sits in the front of the auction house, but it’s completely empty.

“Surely there’s a way to make it fun,” Nico wonders.

“I’ll leave that to you to figure out,” she chuckles, eyes cast towards the entrance to the auction hall where someone has just come through the doors.

The guy is young, short, gelled blonde hair, thick framed glasses sitting atop a sharp nose, and dressed in a 3-piece navy suit. He fits the exact description she had been given of the guy who would be in the front-of-house. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, are you Mason?” She asks, stepping forward as he approaches.

He startles only slightly, not as if he hadn’t been expecting anyone, but as if Poppy and Nico didn’t quite fit the image of who he had been anticipating. “Polly?” He asks, stepping to the side of the two of them to his desk, he shuffles through some notes scattered across the surface.

“Poppy,” she corrects with an awkward laugh, shuffling the binder she’s carrying between her hands so she has one spare to extend out to him.

“Like the flower,” Nico pipes up from behind her, his tone short and direct, earning him a quick glance back from Poppy.

“What he said,” she chuckles as Mason takes her hand in his, giving it a firm, friendly shake as amusement shines in his eyes. “I was told by Ruth Kennedy I could come sit in on an auction to watch Mr-,” she quickly flicks through her binder for the name, “Byrne?”

“Of course, Ruth said you’d be stopping by, it’s nice to meet you, Poppy.” The smile he offers is charming, maintaining eye contact with her until her cheeks warmed with the depth in which she was being perceived. 

“You too,” she offers a smile, again tucking her binder into the crook of her elbow before gesturing behind her. “This is Nico, we’re here representing the New Jersey Devils, he captains the team.”

Poppy can’t help the instinct to gush about Nico, and it’s only when she sees something flicker across Mason’s face that she realises she’s doing it - a force of habit.

“I know, we’re big hockey fans around here.” Mason stretches his arm toward Nico, and the way their hands clap together as they shake is loud enough to echo in the otherwise empty entryway. 

Nico says nothing as he retracts his arm, crossing them both over his chest and narrowing his eyes at the man in front of them. How he had gone from non-stop yapping back in Poppy’s office to whatever this is, she doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to think about, through fear she’ll find a way to blame herself - but he’s being standoffish and cold. 

“That’s great,” Poppy glances curiously back at Nico before turning back to Mason, “Is Mr Byrne back there?” She gestures to the doors he had just come through, raising a questioning brow.

“They’re taking a quick recess while some pieces are being brought through, you’re welcome to take a look around before they start back up. There’s a few guests in the gallery at the moment, it’s just through the doors to the right once you get through the entrance.”

“Oh, perfect, thank you!” Poppy offers her quick gratitude before looking back to Nico, checking in that he’s going to follow, and setting off with him through the doors at the back end of the room. 

Nico remains quiet as they make their way through to the back of the building, a complete 180 to his mood from earlier, and Poppy keeps glancing over at him, worrying about what’s caused the shift in his persona until she flat out asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, letting his hands sink into the pockets of his jacket as he takes in the art that lines the walls around them. 

“C’mon, Nico, out with it,” she nudges him with her hip.

“I don’t know, I just have bad vibes from this place.”

She knows that’s not what’s gotten him down - he was quiet back at the Rock - but the alternative is that he’s being grumpy because she’s missing his birthday, and she doesn’t want to enter into that conversation again and repeat herself for the umpteenth time. “They’re selling a bunch of dead people’s stuff, of course you have bad vibes.”

“It’s not the stuff,” he mumbles, looking back towards the doors they had just come through as Poppy ventures deeper into the room. The first display case she comes across houses some sort of fine china tea set - a complete collection, it looks like, with the pot, cups and plates all matching. It looks like something her mother would like - would display in her own cabinet, to collect dust and never to be touched - and for a brief moment, she considers what the price might be of winning her affections this way and bailing out on Sunday.

The next display case has a sculpture of some sort, as do most of the others she sees as she walks through the gallery, Nico following her silently, not seeming to take anything in until he hears Poppy let out a soft gasp.

“Nico, look!” She beckons him into her space with an outstretched arm, placing it on his back when he’s close enough and leaning into him slightly. “It’s a model train!”

She watches as his eyes flit over the figure in the case, head tilting as he reads something on the side. “It’s the Hogwarts Express,” he mutters with a reminiscent smile.

“Sounds fancy, is that a good one?”

“Are you kidding me?” Their eyes meet, and he looks down at her in confusion, “Harry Potter, Poppy.”

“Oh, duh!” She takes another look, still not really recognising it. “I never saw the movies.”

“You never-,” Nico takes a short step back, turning to face her fully as her hand falls back to her side. “You’ve never seen Harry Potter?”

“Well, I’ve seen one of them,” she corrects herself, “But they killed the owl and the little hobbit thing, I didn’t wanna watch the rest and get attached.”

“Dobby was a house elf,” he gasps in offence, “How do you only watch the second to last movie?”

“A group of friends went to watch it, I didn’t wanna be left out.” She tells him before realising she has an opportunity to poke fun at him. “Nico Hischier, are you a Harry Potter dork?”

“It’s Potterhead, Poppy.”

“Oh, so you’re a big time Harry Potter dork.” He shoves at her half-heartedly, breaking out into a smile when she giggles at her own taunts. “They even have a name for your level of nerd."

“Don’t act like I’m the weirdo, you’re the one who hasn’t seen one of the single biggest movie franchises ever made. What next, you haven’t heard Thriller?”

“Shut up,” she scoffs, shoving him back. “How can you say it’s bad vibes in here when they have your favourite auction item from your favourite movies? It’s fate!”

“They’re not my favourite movies,” he rolls his eyes, stepping back into her side as he notices other people in the gallery start to make their way through to the auction room. “It is a cool train, though."

She watches his face intently as he admires the train again, angling his head to take a thorough look at it. Her eyes flicker over the warmth of his own eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, and before she knows what she’s saying, before she can overthink it, she says, “We could watch them together, some time?”

It’s the first time she’s suggested any kind of plans with him, Nico initiating everything they’ve done together so far in the past couple of days, but there’s a remnant of guilt in the forefront of her mind, and she feels the need to make plans that he would enjoy to make up for how she’d disappointed him, earlier. Sharing something he had grown up with, and hoping she might enjoy it, too.

“I’d like that, Mohn,” he gives an easy smile, this time enough for dimples to well in his cheeks. He swings an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in the direction he had seen the others go, and the two of them make their way into the auction room, taking a seat in the back row.

The chairs are close together, close enough that when they sit, their thighs press together, and to avoid his arm getting squished between them, he slings it over the back of her seat.

Poppy opens up the binder she has on her lap, flicking to the blue section and finding the page dedicated to Mr Byrne. 

Works between New York and New Jersey, been in the industry for over 20 years, specialises in the auction of art, artefacts and memorabilia. 

“He looks perfect on paper,” she whispers, Nico craning his head down to hear her better. “Definitely not bad vibes.”

“We’ll see.”

They sit through a round of the auction like school children, whispering and giggling at the back of the classroom. Nico hands Poppy a paddle from the seat beside him, and any time someone throws them a dirty look, she raises it to drive up whatever they bid on. 

It’s a lot more fun than she had anticipated, and she finds herself forgetting why she had been worried about spending time with him in the first place.

The auctioneer is good, too. He’s professional, but has some personality - enough for her not to feel the passing of time like she is counting every tick of a clock, and before she knows it, he’s wrapping up for another recess.

“I think I like him,” she comments, head raising from where it had drooped onto Nico’s shoulder. “Plus, this place is quite nice, he has to be good for them to use him.”

“Hm,” Nico offers back, clearly in disagreement about something. 

“Please don’t tell me he’s bad vibes, I might have to hit you.”

“Not him, the guy at the front,” Nico says, “He’s a Rangers fan, I saw the mug on his desk.”

Poppy snorts out a laugh, shoving lightly at his chest. “Well, as much of a red flag as that may be, we can’t veto the perfect candidate just because someone who happens to work in the same building might have poor taste. Could have been anyone’s mug, could have been an auction item they couldn’t shift.”

“Regardless of where it came from, the man drinks his coffee from filth,” Nico frowns, and Poppy tries her best not to snicker at his theatrics. “What if they’re all Rangers fans, and we invite them into our home for them to fleece us of all our money.”

She reaches to yank his cap off his head and inspects the inner lining, his hair fluffing out onto his forehead as he pouts and tries to get it back. 

“Hey, what the hell?”

“Just checking for tin foil,”

“What does that mean?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she mutters, affectionately, putting the hat back into place atop his head and making sure it’s straight. “We have another auction we could check today, do you think you can behave?”

“I’ll be good.” He promises.

“No more bone crushing handshakes or pouting or judging people’s choice of crockery?”

“Crockery?”

“The mug, Nico,” her lips twist, fondly.

“Ah, we’ll see.” He sighs. “I can’t make any promises when it comes to the Rangers, you know this, Mohn.”

Poppy checks quickly in on Mr Byrne at the other side of the room, he’s talking to Mason from the front-of-house, and she meets his gaze when he gestures over to her. “I need to check something with Mason before we leave, could you wait by the door for me?”

“As long as you wash your hands before you come back.”

She shoves at his arm before setting off away from him to exchange contact information, thankful, despite Nico’s hesitance around the matter, that she has seemingly found the right fit. 

She might just have to have a quick word about his NHL team preferences before confirming anything.

Nico

Nico likes to think of himself as a level-headed person. He takes the time to mentally deliberate over things before he reacts to them, he doesn’t get consumed by annoyance or anger, doesn’t let emotions overwhelm him to the point of lashing out.

And, if he does react, he does so rationally - rarely crosses a line or goes too far over the top that he skews the balance of whatever power within him has caused things to escalate.

It shows in the way he plays - in the way he leads his team in a cool, calm, collected manner - and rarely does he ever make the first hit when it comes to a fight.

It had been something his older brother, Luca, had taught him when he was a kid, fighting in the rink is all well and good, sometimes needs must, just don’t be the dumbass to start something he can’t finish. Not only will it get someone a bad rep throughout the league, and a penalty from the refs, it could get them into serious trouble when it comes to recovery.

Take his injury back in October, for example. He’d taken a pretty gnarly hit to the head in the first period of a game against the Sabres, and, not that he had been able to react much at the time, he hadn’t let his frustrations get the better of him. The refs gave out the appropriate penalty, and as much as it sucked that he was out for almost a month dealing with the repercussions of the illegal check and a further hit in the second period, he had to deal with it and move on. But if he’d have retaliated on the ice, Lord knows how much worse his injury could have been, or how much longer he would have needed to recover.

So, all that to say, when situations arise and his temper flares, he can usually keep his cool.

But this week, or the latter end of the week, at least, something dark has started to swirl within him, and he’s reacting in ways he never usually would. 

Some childish, petulant part of him that is buried under many layers of bravado and strength, is doing its best to push through and rear its ugly head. 

 If he’s honest with himself, he knows where it had started. 

New Years Day he had woken up and his first thought had been of Poppy. He wanted to see her again, wanted to hang out for as long as she’d have him, carry on their conversations that had carried on until the early hours of the morning - and so he had text her pretty much straight away, asked if he could come over with the promise of bringing breakfast.

When he’d gotten into her apartment building, he had taken the stairs, his legs lead by muscle memory to the achingly familiar door, and he had rapped his knuckles in a melodic knock, one he’d hoped she would remember and recognise as his signature.

Only, when the door sprung open, Poppy wasn’t the one behind it. And, thanking all that is holy, Nico was relieved to see it wasn’t her mother, either.

A guy stood before him, dark, short hair, black-rimmed glasses, just a touch taller than Nico, himself, broad shouldered and, Nico could admit, dashingly handsome. He was dressed in gym gear, Lululemon fitted t-shirt stretched across his chest, and pace breaker shorts clinging to muscular thighs.

He wasn’t usually one to check out another guy like this, but the expectation of seeing Poppy and being on the receiving end of this Adonis had him in a state of shock.

She had said she had Nia over, she hadn’t said anyone else would be here.

“Can I help you?” The guy had asked, leaning on the door jamb and looking Nico up and down with an inquisitive stare. 

He had a sickening sense of deja-vu, the last time he had heard those words in this doorway, Poppy had soon come to his rescue, but as he tried to get a look past into the apartment, it didn’t seem like that would happen.

“Is Poppy home?” He couldn’t help but phrase it like a question, never sounding so unsure of himself in his life. If he had thought Poppy’s mother was intimidating, this was like that situation on speed. The thought of another man, a man as fucking gorgeous as this one, being in Poppy’s life - in her apartment, no less - made his throat go a little dry.

“You’re here for Poppy?” The guy asked, looking Nico up and down, eyes lingering on the drinks holder and paper bag in hand. Nico doesn’t entirely know why him saying her name made him feel so much worse. He could only nod in response. “She must not have changed her details on the app,” he shook his head, but it was less in annoyance and more in fond acknowledgement, “She’s upstairs now, 6B, not 5.”

There was a quick flood of relief, ignoring the fact this man thought Nico was a PostMates delivery, he let out a nervous laugh.

“Right, sorry for bothering you.” He went to move back towards the stairs, but was very quickly stopped in his tracks.

“I can take it up for you? I have a dish of hers I need to take up there, anyway.”

The dry feeling returned immediately. 

Who is this guy and why does he have one of Poppy’s dishes? 

Nico had found himself broadening his own shoulders, perfecting his posture as to come across more sure of himself than the other times he had spoke. “You’re good, man, we have breakfast plans.” He lifted the bag as if to give him a hint, “I can take the dish if you want.”

He would rather be loaded up like a pack horse than have Clark Kent stop by later and interrupt his time with Poppy.

“Oh, yeah, man, you’re a lifesaver!” The guy retreated into Poppy’s old apartment and came back out with a clean casserole dish. “I thought you were a delivery guy, I didn’t know she was seeing someone, my bad.”

Nico hadn’t corrected him.

“No worries,” He’d taken the dish from his hands, balancing it in the crook of his elbow. “Have a nice day.”

He’d trudged up to Poppy’s new apartment, knocking on the door with his elbow when he made it - unable to do his usual knock with the amount he was holding.

Nia has been the one to answer the door this time, and Nico’s mood hadn’t lifted until he was ushered into the apartment and saw Poppy in the flesh.

She was still in her pyjamas, always keeping her place warm enough that she could lounge around in loose fitted shorts, and was sat at her kitchen counter typing away on her phone. When she looked up at Nico, any soreness, any tightness or unease had dissipated from his body at the wide smile that broke out across her face.

“Hi!” She had practically leapt up from the stool she was sat on and thrown her arms around him - the warmest greeting he had received from her in recent memory. 

“Hey.” He juggled what was in his hands, stepping around her slightly, still in her embrace, to quickly put the things on the counter so he could hug her back. His large hands took up immediate residence on the small of her back, rubbing comfortingly until she pulled away.

“Missed you,” he muttered as she craned her head up to look at him, and he found himself beaming down at her, cheeks feeling warm when he took in how her own smile lingered.

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, lightly shoving him away before turning to see what he had put behind her. She didn’t believe him, but he had planned to keep saying it until she did. 

“Please tell me there’s something bad for me in that bag,” Nia had spoken up from behind him, voice groggy, movements sluggish as she rounded into the kitchen to assess what Nico had brought over with him. 

“Sure, as long as you still like those breakfast wraps from the bagel shop round the corner.” 

“The Spanish one?” Nia had gasped, reaching into the bag and pulling out something foil-wrapped. 

“You might wanna heat it up a little,” he suggested, and before he could finish his sentence, she was crossing over to the stove on the other side of the kitchen. As she clattered around trying to find a pan to fry it off and melt the cheese, Nico turned to Poppy, who was also eyeing the bag.

For as long as he’d known Poppy, she was a light breakfast, hearty lunch kind of girl - and, considering she hadn’t mentioned being hungover, herself, when they had messaged that morning, he didn’t think she would want anything big.

“I got you an apple-cinnamon twist.”

She had given him one of those smiles that made his chest feel tight, an acknowledgement of his efforts in recalling her preferences, and he had gulped down any further words in an attempt to relieve himself of the need to choke.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

He didn’t think he’d ever heard her use that phrase before, and he’d tried to let the weight of her smile and gratitude push down on that creeping feeling of envy and bitterness that was building within him.

The guy downstairs had said the same thing. The guy in Poppy’s old apartment.

“You didn’t tell me you’d moved.”

“Oh, shit, is that why you have my lasagne dish?” She had huffed out a guilty laugh, “Sorry, it was in November, I thought Jack and Luke would have told you, they helped me lug all my stuff up here and still hold it against me.” He watched as she picked out one of the juices and took a sip, “Jesse and I switched, he needed a smaller space ‘cause him and his girlfriend split, and I’d been wanting to upgrade for a while. I should have told you when you text before.”

Jesse. Newly-single, built like a Greek statue, and close enough that Poppy was loaning him cookware, Jesse. The name rings with a sinister tone throughout his inner thoughts.

And Jack and Luke, the traitors, had dedicated probably a whole day of their scarcely-free time to help Poppy move and never so much as mentioned it in front of him. 

If he wasn’t so much of an idiot, he could have helped, too - but it would be pointless to dwell too much on that. He couldn’t turn back time, could only dedicate more of it to showing Poppy he wasn’t going anywhere, again, and she could rely on him from then on.

That had been the first layer of bricks laid in Nico’s ever-building foul mood throughout the week.

The second had been in Poppy’s office the following day. He’d let himself in, just like he used to, and tried to busy himself while Poppy’s attention was on a work call. 

He had perused the walls, eyeing over drawings sent in to the foundation from the kids they helped and worked with - drawings of the Prudential Center, of the Devils logo, little stick figures labelled as Poppy and whichever kid had drawn them, some other drawings - a couple in particular catching his eye of her with other players; one of her with Luke, one of her with Jack, one of her with Dawson and Holtzy, seemingly from development sessions she had hosted or attended with them over the past few months. And then, some actual pictures scattered in the mix. Poppy with Curtis and Dougie, Poppy with Jack at the Christmas Toy Drive, Poppy with Luke, John and Holtzy in full gear, that looked like it was taken at one of the games. 

When he had sat in front of her desk, and the little bobblehead version of Jack was staring smugly back at him, he had started to feel like his bones didn’t fit right in his skin. 

He’d remembered seeing Jack lounging across the exact chair he had thrown himself into, back when he’d stumbled across him and Poppy talking in her office the week before, and he couldn’t shake the thought of his lingering presence in Poppy’s space - Poppy’s space that didn’t have a single trace of Nico’s existence.

Whatever bitterness was starting to brew was only exacerbated by the revelation that Poppy was going to miss his birthday party because she had a date.

Poppy Jensen.

Dating.

On his birthday, no less.

For as long as he had known her, Poppy had never had any serious relationships. There had been dates here, flings there, but she was committed more to herself and her career than anything else, and would especially never take her own mother up on her advances to set her up.

His stomach had started to turn at the thought of it. She’d always been so resolute in her refusal when it came to her mom - had always been strong-willed and defiant, knowing that, even with what she argued were the best intentions, Priscilla Jensen didn’t have the first clue about what kind of person Poppy wanted to, or would suit to, be with.

But what if, after all this time, Poppy’s mom actually did have a clue?

What if she and whatever Page 6, heir-to-a-small-fortune, business-school-graduate son of a socialite-friend of her mother’s hit it off?

She’d have no time for Nico if she started dating someone, surely.

Can’t avoid the inevitable, she had said - and he hadn’t liked it. He’d wished she would have looked at him so she could tell how much he didn’t like it.

Poppy had never believed in the inevitable, before. She forged her own path. It was one of the many things he loved and admired about her.

And, apparently, she’d forged her own path straight down into the PR offices one too many times, because the way Josh had reacted to seeing her when they ventured down - springing out of his seat like an excitable puppy that had caught sight of a tennis ball - made his stomach crawl.

He knew he hated dealing with the PR team for a reason. Josh was giving off major creeper energy, inviting himself along to watch auctions with Poppy as if she wasn’t capable of doing it on her own. And, he had barely even acknowledged Nico was there the whole time, which was rude in and of itself. 

And then, as if the universe hadn’t been cruel enough to him in the past 2 days, he had to watch some leech at the auction house look over Poppy like she was a piece of meat - eyes wandering from head to toe, taking his time to take every part of her in, while Nico stood behind her willing the steam not to blow from his ears.

Bad vibes.

And that judgement was made before he saw the hideous mug on the guy’s desk.

He had felt off for the rest of that day - when he and Poppy had gone to view another auction, only for them to find out Josh had gotten one of the dates wrong, and they’d driven all the way up to North Bergen for nothing. 

He had felt off when he took Poppy out for dinner - the two of them sat facing one another in the cosy corner of an Italian bistro they had found on their way back to Jersey City, sharing breadsticks and conversing over pasta and gelato for dessert - and he tried not to overthink the way the waiter purposely brushed her hand whenever he took the menu back. Had tried to live in the moment of being able to watch the flicker of the candle between them in her irises, and how she so intently listened to whatever he had to say like it was the most important thing in the world.

He had felt off when he dropped Poppy back at the Rock to get her car, splitting with a hug over the centre console just like old times, a quick peck to his forehead and a kiss to her crown, her promising to text him when she got home - and as he watched to make sure she got in her car okay, he had noticed her looking down at her phone and smiling at a message he hadn’t been the one to send.

How he had managed to pull himself together to play the Capitals, to score two goals and for the team to bag a great away win, he doesn’t know.

But the off-feeling returns on the quick flight back to New Jersey.

As he sits on his own, headphones on, distancing himself from the rowdy celebrations of his teammates, he types and un-types too many messages to Poppy.

Will you still be awake in an hour?

Can I come over?

Do you want to come over?

Just saw Harry Potter is on Netflix now.

Can I see you?

Facetime when I’m home?

For some unknown reason, it feels like a matter of urgency that he has to see her, or at least speak to her, tonight, before his entire day tomorrow is taken up by plans with his family.

He has waited for them to make the trip out from Switzerland since seeing them in the summer, but now, when it’s potentially the only time he can celebrate his birthday with Poppy, it’s starting to feel like an inconvenience.

She was the one that had offered to do something, so she should no doubt be down to see him, but it will be late by the time he gets back, and the last thing he wants to do is inconvenience her.

It’s when he has just sent a simple, Hey, and is watching intently for the read receipt and the 3 little bubbles to pop up that Jesper drops into the seat next to him.

“Timo needs you to reply to his texts,” he sighs, running a hand through his light hair. “Something to do with Sunday, says he’s on a time crunch and needs to know something from you.”

“Can’t, I’m ignoring him.” 

“And why would you be ignoring Timo?” Jesper snorts, turning in the chair, intrigued as to why his captain has all of a sudden started behaving like a child.

“He didn’t invite Poppy to my party.” Nico shrugs, eyes remaining on his screen and still waiting. It isn’t that late yet, and Poppy always has her phone on her.

“Right,” he drags out, eyes shifting quickly to glance down at Nico’s screen until it’s tilted away from him. “You weren’t exactly speaking to Poppy when he put the list together, Nico, you can’t blame him for that.” 

Nico knows he can’t blame Timo, but he doesn’t want to blame himself, so he is left with no other choice than to let the resentment bubble toward someone else. 

“And we can just add her now, it’s no big deal, I’ll text him so it’s not obvious you’re asking.”

“She has plans, now.” Nico scowls. It doesn’t matter how much he knows he’s being an idiot about it, he wants Poppy there on Sunday, wants to celebrate his birthday with his best friend, and now he can’t.

“Okay, so what’s the big deal?”

“She wouldn’t have made plans if she were invited in the first place.”

“You’re losing me.”

“She has a date.” He huffs out, bitterly, the word souring on his tongue. A date she might never have agreed to if Timo had asked her to come in the first place. “And she won’t cancel it.” Can’t, won’t, doesn’t want to, it’s all semantics.

“Oh.” Jesper frowns, then follows with another exclamation. “Oh!” Loud enough, this time, to capture the attention of Jack and Luke on the next row over.

“Yeah, oh.” Nico scoffs, “It’s Timo’s fault.”

“Since when does PJ date?” Jack asks, inserting himself into the conversation, him and Luke both leaning over to truly immerse themselves in the discussion. 

Probably since she developed friendships with guys in the PR department who colour code documents to please her, and get wide eyed and bushy tailed at the mere sight of her. Or since she attracted the attention of fancy auction house hosts dressed to the nines with charming smiles and prolonged handshakes. Or maybe since she played house-swap with her gym-buff movie-star looking single-and-clearly-looking-for-love neighbour. Nico thinks, at one point when they were outside walking back to his car after the second auction house had been closed, he’d even seen a flirtatious pigeon make advances towards her.

How is she not supposed to date people when every person she bumps into is putting moves on her?

“I don’t know.” He mutters, checking his phone again only to see a big fat bunch of nothing.

“And you want to date her?” Luke asks, perpetual confusion etched into his features.

“What? No!” He denies before he can even think about it.

“Right,” Jesper drags out again in a way that is starting to get on Nico’s nerves. “So, what’s the problem again?”

“If she starts dating someone, she’s gonna spend all her time with them and not have any time left for me.”

“Oh, so like how you were with Talia?” Nico thought Jack was the unfiltered one in the Hughes family, but with every time he talks to Luke, he is quickly proven wrong. Jack speaks to purposely stir the pot, Luke doesn’t even realise he’s doing it - just calls Nico out like it’s nothing - and he doesn’t know which is worse.

Nico can’t help but grimace, the mention of his behaviour over the past few months serving only to humiliate him and make him feel worse. He doesn’t need to feel worse. “It’s not the same.”

“Because you like her.” 

“Dude,” Jack scoffs at his little brother’s brazenness. Jesper smirks knowingly beside Nico.

“I don’t-,” Nico can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling unknowingly uncomfortable at the thought of flat out shutting that down. “It’s just weird, I’ve known her a lot longer than you have, okay, Poppy doesn’t date.”

“Poppy’s hot,” Luke says it as if he’s saying the sky is blue. Jesper snorts out the sip of his water he had just taken and Jack throws his head into his hands. “Of course she dates.”

“Excuse me?” Nico almost chokes, himself.

“You all have eyes,” Luke scoffs. 

“I don’t use them to look at Poppy, she’s like my sister, which means she’s like your sister.”

“She’s hot, and she’s funny, and she’s cool, and why she wastes her time hanging around any of us, or even caring about any of us in the first place, I don’t know. Whatever guy she’s dating is a lucky fucker, it’s normal to be jealous.”

“Sounds like you like her,” Nico challenges with a hardened jaw, trying to hide the clench of his fists by pressing his hands down either side of his legs. It’s a date, she isn’t dating. The latter end of Luke’s statement doesn’t even register in his subconscious thoughts. 

“Yeah, what exactly are you getting at?” Jack questions his brother, an amused glint in his eye.

“I don’t want to be the person to call his captain an idiot,” Luke sighs, throwing himself back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You think I’m an idiot?” Nico scoffs, unable to gauge the level of offence he wants to take at the younger Hughes’ outburst.

“I think you’re being an idiot, there’s a slight difference.”

“Just so you know, Schao, I take no responsibility for my brother’s stupidity. His opinions are his own.” Jack interrupts, holding his hands up as if surrendering.

“You literally said earlier you think he’s being a dumbass,” Luke argues, more than ready to throw his brother under the bus. If he’s going down, Jack’s coming with him.

“Whoa,” Jack shoots a wide eyed, panicked look over to his captain, “He’s misquoting me, that’s fake news.”

“You think I’m a dumbass?”

“Being a dumbass,” Jack corrects, “Luke’s right, there’s a difference. Using the right words is important, here.”

“You two have a death wish.” Jesper chuckles, reclining in his seat to observe the circus in front of him, happy he isn’t the one to have to call Nico out, for once.

“Please enlighten me, how am I being a dumbass?”

“We’ve just won an away game with 6 goals, two of which you scored. This whole plane has been celebrating the result, and you’ve been sat here with your bottom lip out, pouting over a girl you won’t even admit to yourself that you like.” Jack is the first to speak up, but Luke soon takes over - the two of them laying into Nico like they’ve been rehearsing. 

“All because she has a date.” Luke mimics Nico’s previous whining. “All because the two of you have wasted all those years that you’ve known her longer than I have pretending you aren’t like crazy into each other.”

As the two of them bounce between each other, Nico takes a second to think about what they’re saying - or, specifically, what Luke is saying.

It’s his rookie year. Sure, he’d played a couple games at the end of last season, but he hadn’t really been around to witness Nico and Poppy in the depths of their friendship before the summer. How did he know how long the two of them had wasted pretending not to be into each other?

“She’s into me?” 

“For Christ’s sake,” Luke mutters, rolling his eyes, “I changed my mind, I do think you’re an idiot.”

“Has she said that?”

“Not in those words,”

“Then how do you know?” Nico questions, leaning forward in his seat.

It’s Jesper who counters this time. “C’mon, Nico,” he scoffs, “You can’t be serious, right now.”

“Yeah, Cap, there’s oblivious and then there’s downright brainless.” Jack chimes in. “She was so cut up about you and Talia she turned into a full-blown recluse. Party Poppy didn’t come to any team hang-out for months.”

“And if she did, she’d just sulk in a corner and slip out early. She didn’t even do anything for her birthday, last year. Poppy loves her birthday. Timo was looking forward to weaselling in on her plans.” 

Nico remembers going out for Timo’s birthday - some haphazard, last minute gathering at a bar in Hoboken, just after the season had kicked off. He remembers Talia grumbling to him, wanting to leave to go meet up with some of her friends in New York, and so he had given in and they had dipped out. Timo had said he didn’t mind. Nico had assumed Poppy would have joined the team, later - her and Timo sharing a birthday week - but had never actually checked in the end to see if she had. Had she spent her birthday alone, too? All to avoid having to see him with Talia?

“And even if we’re ignoring the whole Talia thing, back when you two were close, she’d do things with you she’d never do with the rest of us. The first time I ever saw her apartment was when I was helping her move out of it, you were there all the time.”

“I’ve never even seen it,” Jesper adds.

“And she has pictures of you in her apartment, doesn’t have any of me and I’m her favourite teammate.”

Nico doesn’t remember seeing any photos in her apartment - can only remember the ones at work, the ones of everybody but him. 

He thought she’d erased all evidence of his existence in her life - but had she just moved it some place more sacred, more intimate?

“None of us have met her family, either. You’ve met them several times.”

“You don’t really want to meet them, trust me,” he mutters, suppressing a shudder when thinking about all his encounters with the Jensen clan. “Why have you gone quiet all of a sudden?” Nico wants to hear what Luke has to say about it, having a sneaking suspicion that he holds the most damning evidence of all.

Poppy has said something to him. 

He wouldn’t be being as hard on Nico if she hadn’t.

But, if he thinks hard enough about it, he can’t recall seeing them hang out that much. He’s seen her more with Jack, and sure, there were the pictures with Luke in her office, but why would she confide in him of all people? Why not his brother - or, better yet, why would she not just tell Nia and leave anyone from the team out of it?

“I think you need to be speaking to Poppy about this.”

And as if manifesting it on his captain’s behalf, Luke’s words bring forward a brief buzz to the phone now in Nico’s lap.

He looks down at the screen, heartbeat slowly but surely regulating itself as he reads the messages.

Poppy: Hey congrats on the win!!💖

Poppy: I know you’re busy tomorrow but can I see you tonight??

Poppy: Might have a gift for you 👀

Nico: I’ll come to you 😊❤️ 

Maybe Luke is right - he needs to talk to Poppy about it.

Nico takes the steps up to Poppy’s apartment two at a time, tired muscles from playing and travelling be damned, and when he makes it to her floor, he finds her leaning against her already open doorway, waiting for him.

The flight home had dragged despite being so short, the coach back to the Rock seemed to move at the pace of a push bike in low gear, and he had hit every red light on his own drive from the arena - but all that dwindles away into a distant memory when he sees her.

“Did you stalk me on find my friends?” He asks, closing the gap from the stairs to her front door, wondering how she had known when he got here.

“You know me so well,” she jests, opening her arms and stepping into him, wrapping them around his shoulders and squeezing when he embraces her back. 

His arms circle around her waist, and he fights the urge to lift her and spin her around in a demonstration of his own elation.

“I’ve missed you,” he speaks lowly into the top of her head. He thinks he could say it a million times and it won’t be enough. 

“You saw me yesterday,” she mumbles into his chest, stepping back without loosening her grip around him so they waddle through into her apartment together.

“Too long.”

“You’ve been texting me all day.”

“Not enough.”

He manages to softly kick the door closed behind them, hearing the soft click of the automatic lock.

“Are you hungry?” She asks, finally stepping out of his hold and stepping through her apartment towards her kitchen.

He does usually have a snack before settling in for the night after he gets home from an away game, but he doesn’t want to put Poppy out this late, especially knowing she has work in the morning and he has most of the day off.

“I’m good,” he follows her into the kitchen, where she seems to be ignoring him, swinging open the refrigerator and reaching inside for something. She hides whatever she’s taken, closing the door behind him and moving it to the counter, shielding it from his view with her body.

He’s too distracted by the feeling of his chest swelling to try to peak. He notices pictures stuck with magnets to the door - pictures of the two of them, alone and in groups, scattered between different notes like appointment cards and an invitation to a baby shower.

It’s only a slight burst of heat in front of his face that diverts his attention, eyes straining to focus on the small flickering flame of a birthday candle stuck into a blueberry muffin. 

“Happy birthday!” Poppy squeals, holding the small plate in front of him. 

“Is this my gift?” He chuckles, blowing out the candle and taking the plate from her hands.

“Nope, wait here,” she rushes out of the kitchen and he pinches the candle from the muffin, placing it to the side of the plate so he can break off a piece and throw it into his mouth.

He recognises it from the bakery down the street from Poppy’s apartment, a place they’d once frequented together when craving something sweet, and the taste takes him straight back to their little table by the window, so small their knees would knock as they sat beside each other, chatting over mini muffins and coffees.

He rounds the corner of the kitchen island to check out the photo frames on Poppy’s bookshelf that takes up most of the wall connecting to the back rooms of her apartment. 

It’s a new piece of furniture, way too big to have been in her old apartment, and she’s decorated the shelves not filled with books with trinkets, frames, candles and a few small plants.

One shelf has a picture of Poppy with her girlfriends - he only knows Nia, but he recognises the photo as one she’s had a while - another has a picture of Poppy with her family. There’s a photo of the family dogs, Springer Spaniels Mabel and Gus, who Nico had become infatuated with when Poppy had looked after them for a week while her parents were on vacation. 

On the shelf closest to his eye level, Nico spots a photo of him and Poppy taken on Halloween a few years back. Nico dressed as a prisoner, Poppy dressed as Mia from Pulp Fiction, he remembers someone had made a comment how even in polar opposite costumes, they had still turned up colour co-ordinated, and the picture does that justice - giant, smiles, and flushed cheeks coming out bright against their black and white outfits.

Poppy returns with a small box and a card, and a smile just as big as the one in the picture.

Nico takes the box, instinctively rattling it. “Doesn’t sound like the Hogwarts Express model train I wanted,” he speculates, lips pouting into a mocking frown. 

“Don’t get me started on that train,” she swats Nico with the card, “That Rangers loving asshole said it was against house code to reserve an auction item for me.”

“I told you he was bad vibes,” he postulates, heart warming at the thought of her trying to get him such a sentimental gift.

“That thing ended up going for over $6000!”

“Jesus,”

“I love you, but if I’m spending $6000 on anything, it isn’t a dorky Harry Potter train.”

I love you. 

Nico doesn’t even register the rest of her sentence.

He tears carefully into the Devils branded wrapping paper until a plain black box is revealed, and when he lifts the lid, the gold chain inside immediately reflects the soft light coming from the corner of the room. 

“It’s so we can match,” Poppy says, shaking the wrist that adorns the welded chain bracelet - the bracelet that she wears as a symbol of an unbreakable bond with the people she loves the most in this world. “I know you already have a chain, so you don’t have to wear it all the time, I couldn’t really think of anything else so last minute.”

She sounds unsure - insecure, almost, which is abnormal for her.

“Put it on for me?” He asks, holding the box out for her to take the chain out. 

She handles it with care, and when it’s in her hands, he can see that it is the perfect match to the chain on her wrist. Oh, he will be wearing it. All the time.

She unclasps the necklace, and he cranes his head lower so she can bring it around his neck, closing it together at the front and manoeuvring it until the clasp is at the back.

When he lifts his gaze, his eyes catch hers, admiring the glint of gold against his skin until she looks up at him with a soft smile.

It’s that same smile she seems to reserve just for him - where her eyes sparkle like a something out of a cartoon and swirl with so much warmth he feels it spread throughout his body.

He feels so much in the moment, a million words flooding through his brain at the rate of a thousand miles a minute. He has so much he wants to say to her - so much they need to talk about - but as he stands in an apartment only he is allowed to spend time in, with scatterings of his pictures throughout every room he’s been in so far, the link between his brain and his mouth becomes severed.

Fuck talking.

Nico moves quicker than he can comprehend, his brain not processing the actions of dropping the box his chain had been held in, placing his hands on either sides of her face and pulling her in until his lips collide with hers, and she doesn’t pull away. He can barely make out the sound of his birthday card falling from her grasp and sliding across the floor until all sound that isn’t coming from Poppy drowns out.

Her mouth moves with an equal bruising pressure to his, fingers raising to clutch at the shirt stretched across his torso, and he can barely feel the scratch of her nails through the fabric. He uses his grip on her face to angle it until their noses slot beside each other like pieces of a puzzle, and he doesn’t feel the ache in the bridge of his own as it is squished against hers.

After a few measured seconds, he tries his luck with the quick swipe of his tongue against the slight parting of her lips, and she lets him in, sending vibrations through the muscle as her lips close around it and she hums against his mouth. 

Nico can’t think of a time he’s ever kissed someone like this before - with all-consuming passion. 

He’s had half-hearted, means-to-an-end make-out sessions, quick, loveless pecks, sloppy, drunken kisses with fumbling hands and heavy petting.

But this is other-worldly. It’s mind-boggling, soul shattering, earth-moving.

Even when they part, noses smushed together, panting breaths tumbling heavily out into each other’s parted, swollen lips, he feels like his whole body is continuously thrumming. 

He gives into the slight push of her hands against his chest, only when he feels her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, wanting to see what revelations lay within her eyes.

She blinks slowly, as if in a daze, and a self-satisfied smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Clarity washes over him almost immediately.

He hasn’t been off this week.

Hasn’t been grumpy, mopey, moody, pouty.

Luke was right, earlier.

Nico has been jealous.

He wants to spend all his time with her, wants to tag along to whatever boring work task she has when he’s free, wants to tell any other guy interested that she’s off limits, wants to fill his apartment with pictures of the two of them and wants her to fill her office with the same.

Nico Hischier likes Poppy Jensen.

And, if that kiss and her reaction to it is anything to go off, Poppy likes him back.

The thought fills him with conviction, makes his chest puff out and his back straighten in unabashed confidence, and gives him the courage to make a request that the Nico of barely a day ago wouldn’t have dreamed of asking.

Something else he wants.

“Don’t go on that date, Mohn."

> Next Chapter

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

[lemotmo]

I might actually die from anticipation. Anyway I agree with all of this! We're getting Buddie canon!!

Q. The last 5 minutes of that episode felt like they were at warp speed. But the Buddie stuff we got was so good!!! I can't actually believe those scenes are canon! I'm very annoyed at the Ryan stuff and dear god the Lou stuff, but everything else was so good! I feel like I'm flying!

A. The last 5 minutes gave me whiplash, anon, I agree. Any other time I would have said the Buddie scene at the end should have been cut and moved to the beginning of the next episode because it didn't really fit, and they did have to rush through the Maddie rescue to get it into the episode. But the context of that scene was necessary for upcoming episodes, and since I believe we're getting some kind of time jump as we open episode 11, they didn't really have a choice. The scene needed to be there and it was a PERFECT Buddie scene.

I will touch the Lou nonsense in this one ask, and I won't answer another one. For me personally it feels like trolling. He knew exactly what kind of pic to post and it's absolutely the kind of immature bullshit he finds funny. He could have been doing anything. 911 is not the only thing that shoots on that lot. ABC isn't the only studio who uses that lot. I think he knew exactly what he was doing and he found it funny. That's my personal take. Tommy serves no narrative purpose anymore. The Tommy part of Buck's brain officially died last night. There is no story reason to bring him back for a scene. Does that mean Tim won't? Nope, but if he does it would be for the sole purpose of having the audience see Buck actively choose Eddie. It would be used as a way to give Buck back the agency he kind of lost during their breakup. That would be the only reason he was there. And it's not necessary. Now it's possible Tim is tired and so he has written in a scene that would explicitly have Buck say out loud he doesn't want him, and it was never about him. That's also not unlike Tim. So it's one of those options, but I still personally feel like he was just attention seeking and it's nothing.

I haven't seen the Ryan stuff personally, thank god. Yay for my dash curation! I've heard about it from mutuals and asks but I haven't physically seen it myself. That being said, streaming services have obliterated an entire generation's ability to watch television. They genuinely don't know how to watch a television show. They don't understand how to WATCH. They want immediate satisfaction and answers and bullet point explanations for everything. The show has made it clear where this thing is headed. There is no more room for doubt. They are two characters on the same path going towards the same conclusion, however Buck is further along on the path. Eddie is still behind him because Eddie's route on the path has a detour (Christopher and Texas). That means Oliver can make acting choices and interview answer choices that Ryan cannot make yet. Oliver has fully made the turn. He is 100% playing Buck as in love with Eddie. And Buck is going to fully realize it either in episode 11 or 12. It's coming quickly for Buck. Eddie is not at that stage yet though so Ryan has to be more subtle. Ryan played the truck scene (the fact that scene is canon makes me want to climb the wall, twirl my hair, and kick my feet), and the goodbye scene perfectly. He was perfect in those scenes. Not only could you see the weight on him you could feel the weight on him. The uncertainty. The confusion about everything. The dialogue was loud but everything Ryan did with the dialogue, and silently without any dialogue was louder. He didn't look at Buck in the truck when he said 'it's not nothing'. He was awkward at the uhaul when it was time to say their goodbyes. They both played that scene so pitch perfect it gave me goosebumps. He allowed all the emotions Eddie was feeling to play out on his face. The subtle shift with his eyebrows during their hug was heartbreaking because it was Eddie taking a moment to realize what he's walking away from, and all the different emotions happening inside of him in that moment. There is a part of Eddie that knows. Ryan's playing it like that. Ryan is playing it as if Eddie was forced to choose between his son and Buck and he chose his son, as he should have, but that doesn't mean that leaving Buck isn't breaking his heart. And he doesn't have the mental strength to examine that more closely just yet. He's just trying to convince himself that what he's doing is right and for the best so it doesn't matter that he's hurting himself to make this choice. Ryan demonstrated all of that in that scene and anyone who's trying to argue otherwise is lying to themselves. And Eddie looked back! Abby never looked back, but Eddie did!! He looked back at Buck! That entire scene was god tier and I need people to understand that.

I also need people to understand that these scenes are not for the fandom. Obviously we eat them up, but their not for us. These scenes are for the general audience. These scenes are walking the general audience through the tonal and emotional shift in their relationship. They are very romantic coded. The dialogue, the music, the acting choices from both Oliver and Ryan. This is the show's way of making sure the audience as a whole understands and recognizes that their dynamic is changing. The audience is getting to witness the shift for both of them in real time. I desperately need people to understand how fucking good that is. We are getting to watch both men realize what's happening between them in real time and on an individual level. It's their love story! One episode at a time!!What they're doing is glorious and genuinely beautiful. Please don't take this for granted because this doesn't happen often. If you're not capable of following the story as it's told, which includes a week between episodes, and other storylines getting focus as well, then wait for the season to finish and binge the season at that point. But I am begging you all to learn how to watch a television show the way they were intended to be watched. Because that's what's happening here. We're getting ANTICIPATION!!! And LONGING!!! And I'm vibrating out of my skin! 🩷

Thank you Nonny!

Yeah, I agree with Ali on the Buddie of it all. We know where this is going, so let's just enjoy the ride. You know?

Seems I'm the only one who liked how they handled those last 5 minutes of the episode. I think it was a really clever way to go about things in order to make some time for the final Buddie goodbye scene.

I already said what I wanted to say about T and the Ryan stuff. I don't wish to talk about it anymore for today. I just want to enjoy my Buddie high for the remainder of this day. 😋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[cosmicatta]

One Piece Novel: Law — a short analysis

So, after a long time trying to get my hands on the Law light novel, I was finally able to read it recently! And, because I'm an obnoxiously intense person who can't just be normal about things, I found myself taking notes about everything I judged interesting.

And I thought I could share! So here's a mostly improvised essay about the Law novel, how it portrays Law and what it reveals about him as a character.

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

For those who haven't read the novel and might want to: be mindful of some trigger warnings, including gruesome medical descriptions, suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse, and violence in general (I won't be touching on these subjects here though).

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Law's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

The story takes place right after Cora dies, following young Law's journey as he makes it to Swallow Island and desperately tries to survive. There, he will meet Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, as well as Wolf, a novel-exclusive character that welcomes Law and the boys into his home as a family.

Overall, it's a very short read, agile and straightforward. The style is very juvenile, but that was to be expected, and I'd say it does a pretty good job at capturing the feeling of watching a One Piece episode. The novel does kinda feel like a mini arc.

I'm unsure if light novels can be considered 100% canon in general, but since the contents don't contradict anything from what we've already seen in the manga/anime, I'm going to assume we can at least take the events described in this one as canon.

But I'll leave the plot aside a little bit to focus more on Law's psyche, analyzing everything in the novel as material that helps us further understand him.

The entire book (save from a few specific passages) is written from Law's point of view and in first person, so it offers a more in-depth look at his way of thinking, motivations and ideals.

What I find most interesting in this sense is that the whole story is very centered around Law's kindness. Though he does admit several times that he had wanted to see the world burn when he was under Doflamingo's care (as we already know from the source material), the novel makes it very obvious that Law's true nature is compassionate. His inner voice even explicitly states that he enjoys helping and making others happy. (Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: "And I felt very comfortable collaborating with the task of helping others."

P. 92: "Knowing that I was going to free a person from their pain [...] gave me a joy I had never experienced before."

P. 136: "Just imagining the surprised faces of the Old Man, Bepo and the others brought a smile to my face" [when planning on getting fresh fish for dinner as a surprise].

And, despite living under Wolf's motto of "give to take," Law never expects anything in return for any of his good actions. In fact, he gets furious at Wolf himself when, after saving his life, the old man insists on giving Law anything he demands as compensation.

P. 120: "I didn't save you because I wanted a reward!" [...] They [Bepo, Shachi and Penguin] burst into tears of happiness when they realized that you had survived. That's more than enough for me! [...]" I won't let you belittle their tears!"

But even then, Law keeps arguing that he only saved Wolf "on a whim," much like he would say years later when asked why he chose to save Luffy's life. This is a common theme throughout the whole book (which is also pretty obvious in the manga)—Law doesn't recognize his own kindness.

It's not modesty or shyness, his inner monologue makes it very clear that he doesn't see himself as good-natured, and is often confused at his own motivations.

In their first meeting, when Bepo asks him why he is so nice to him, Law doesn't know what to answer; and after that, when Law finds himself wondering why he's trying so hard to save Shachi and Penguin despite their past history, he blames it all on "doctor's pride."

P. 48: "I wasn't even a good person."

Still, regardless of what Law might think of himself, living in Swallow Island seems to be making him progressively gentler. He was wary and hostile towards Wolf at first, but eventually lets himself trust people again, trying to honor Cora's memory and what he taught Law.

In Swallow Island he builds his new found family little by little, though never letting go of Cora and what he meant to Law.

P. 39: "Cora and I were family, that's what I felt at heart, I had no doubts. We had loved each other without saying it out loud [...] Would I feel the same for the Old Man and Bepo eventually?"

Slowly, he starts finding comfort and joy in community. He lets himself be carefree around his new friends, treating them with open affection, laughing and being surprisingly enthusiastic (although he quickly starts taking his role as a leader very seriously, and sometimes avoids showing weakness around them so as not to worry them.)

Law even gets to become an active part of life in Pleasure Town, where he and the other boys are cherished after 3 years living and working there. He's comfortable with his role in the community and appreciates the people in town. His sense of duty towards them shines especially when the pirates arrive to attack the town.

Again, this contrasts with how Law sees himself even in the manga/anime, where he insists that he acts mostly out of selfishness and only seeking his own benefit (or, in the best of cases "on a whim.")

But the truth is that Law's decisions are almost always related to other people's desires.

In this sense, the concept of guilt is also key to understand Law's motivations and his relationship with the world as a whole. This is especially obvious when it comes to Cora—Law even briefly wishes that they had never met, so that Cora would still be alive (p. 128-129.)

In a way, guilt is what moves Law forward, and what slowly starts transforming into a thirst for revenge, into rage and hatred towards Doflamingo and possibly towards himself too. It's a kind of tragic guilt born out of love.

His love for Cora still haunts him, his last wish for Law is the big enigma that he tries to solve during his 3 years in Swallow Island: be free. What is freedom to Law? How can he fulfill Cora's request? This is the question that gives meaning to the novel.

We know that Law wouldn't feel free until finally taking down Doflamingo and avenging Cora's death many years later, but he hasn't reached that point of determination in the novel yet. Maybe that's what gives the narration that hopeful and optimistic tone, with a young Law that's still finding himself, experiencing wonder in loving again, and learning what it means for him to be true to his values. It's the start of an adventure, and its core theme is love.

The ending illustrates this very well; I especially like the moment where Law names the crew as they're setting sail:

P. 243: "Cora's love that he showed me, Wolf's affection, the trust I had in my companions. One word embodied it all: Heart."

It is love that gives Law a reason to keep going. And I'm so glad that the novel doesn't shy away from this fact and isn't afraid of sounding "sappy" or "corny," because I do believe emotion is a very important part of Law's character.

The epilogue closes with a very interesting quote in the last page:

"You hear that, Cora? This is my... This is our pirate crew."

It is unclear if by "our" he is referring to himself and Cora, as if dedicating this new beginning to him, or if he means him and his crew. I'd personally like to think he means it both ways. But in any case, it's interesting that he openly shares the honor of "owning" his crew with someone else. He is the captain, but not the owner. It's another little way in which his generosity is evidenced.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable read, and it left me wanting more. Obviously, it's not a literature masterpiece, but it gives a lot of interesting material for character analysis, which is super fun.

Finally, here’s a few fun facts for those who can’t/don’t want to read the novel but enjoy the little trivia:

The Polar Tang was built and designed by Wolf.

Law’s first tattoo was "DEATH," and he got it at a local tattoo shop in Pleasure Town at around 15 years old.

Shachi and Penguin are childhood friends and likely met through their parents.

Shachi had always wanted to be a hair stylist.

Law is bad at cooking.

Both Shachi and Penguin are good at cooking, especially Penguin, who worked as a waiter in Pleasure Town.

The Hearts’ jolly roger was collectively designed by Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin days before leaving Swallow Island.

Law decided the name of their crew upon setting sail for the first time.

And I think that's all! ♥ I hope my rambling was enjoyable at least!

Edit: I've now posted an analysis of the Ace novels too!

[tomatopers]

biggest peeves with genshin x reader fics

I'm going to preface this by saying you can write whoever you want however you want and no one is gonna stop you; heck, it likely won't even affect your likes and stuff. These are my personal peeves stemming from character portrayal <3 Characters A-D

Albedo ;; He isn't very heavily emotive; He is shown to approach almost everything from a logical/analytic standpoint!! My guy expressed concern with the most nonchalant voice, so he clearly does care, just not in an expressive/passionate way

Alhaitham ;; Similar to Albedo, but slightly more expressive! He clearly has things/people that he values, and his own ways of showing care differ from societal norms, which is why he comes across as cold and indifferent!! Even the vulnerability that comes slowly with trust isn't immediately obvious, but this is definitely something that's interesting to explore in works⎯ Would he change the way he feels comfortable expressing himself into something else for you? Would you want him to?

Aloy ;; fuck what genshin did to my girl im skipping aloy

Amber ;; One of her main personality traits is the lack of deliberation!! Even with people she really cares about and loves!! Overthinking? We don't know them

Itto ;; Let bro be silly. Let bro make mistakes. Let bro have no idea what he's doing, but know he's giving it his all no matter what⎯ This is the Arataki Way.

Arlecchino ;; Gonna be honest I know jack shit about her but everything I read sounds hot <3 I do think she isn't the type to get frazzled/embarrassed but boy oh boy you can try

Baizhu ;; bffr he would NOT let you neglect your health like... Look at the man 🤨 I don't think he's the yelling type either?? Like he'll stand up for you obviously, but wouldn't start a fight imo; He got them dangerous snake eyes and scary words fr

Barbara ;; idk i don't read minor x reader things + i don't think i've ever seen a barbara x reader ever 💀 I do think she'd be patient and caring to the point where doing anything bad would make you feel guilty asf :/ not even in a romantic way, just like⎯anything. The kind persona isn't actually an act, she's in a role where she cannot be seen as anything else but it isn't hard to be kind as she would act that way, idol or not. More of a character thought, not a fic peeve </3

Beidou ;; She would start fights for you and she'd win, we all know this. I do think that many fics don't explore her emotions to a deeper extent, like motives and such? I think there's a lot of flexibility in that, and many avenues to explore! Not a peeve either, just a thought.

Bennett ;; Minor again(?), I don't read Bennett fics aha 😭 Grasping at straws here, with such a brave face shown to everyone, taking it off to share the sadder stuff sounds hard

Candace ;; Dunno much either 💀 Nor do I see any fics about her...

Charlotte ;; Would she love and cherish you? Yes. Would she leave her job for you? No. Would she feel bad about always being busy chasing headlines? Yes! Would she only really do well with a partner who supports her career and aspirations? Yes!

Chevreuse ;; Sorry guys I don't even know her 😭

Chiori ;; Would also start fights for you, would also win; Clearly takes no shit, I imagine certain compromises would take a while to reach? Canonically fairly headstrong, I doubt she'd be a pushover with an s/o

Chongyun ;; Minor 🧍

Clorinde ;; Her showing vulnerability with you definitely means a LOT. Beyond her career and the things she does for it, I just know there's so much going on in her head :( Let my girl share, give her a safe space, be patient to eventually emotionally connect

Collei ;; Minor 🤨

Cyno ;; He does not seem like the dominant/aggressive/pushy type :( I bet there's complicated feelings between the way he acts as a General and the way he acts with a lover⎯undeniably would never want you to be scared of him. Teasing type, likely nothing worse.

Dehya ;; I haven't seen her done dirty, so I'm pretty content

Diluc ;; High-functioning man, having dealt with varying stressors over so many years I doubt anything could interrupt his work flow⎯having said that, yes that means issues with a relationship making him struggle to work would mean more; Yes, i still believe that's highly unlikely

Diona ;; No.

Dori ;; No. Also, I hate her.

[geppettospuppet]

pino affection hcs<3

a/n: two hc posts in a day bc i'm insane I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! ok hope u sillies enjoy

ok remember how i said in my last post pinocchio would be gentle?

OWIRJALDJJRAAAAHAHAHHEJAJAJA *EATING SHEETMETAL*

yeah so anyway that 100% includes how he interacts with his lover

actually, pino would go out of his way to learn to become more gentle and empathetic for the person he developes feelings for (once he learns what empathy is ofc)

because he isn't very vocal, don't expect him to say "i love you" too often

i mean HE WILL!! but with the way his mind works, he'd rather just show you that he loves you through actions

one of the biggest things for p is quality time

i've seen some people on here have the reader read stories to pino and oh my gosh i absolutely love the idea

not only would he listen to you read stories to him, but he would also just be a great listener in general

whether you're telling him about your day or ranting about a pet peeve

he will always listen to you intently because well!!! he loves you and you could never annoy him

not that pino gets annoyed often... unless it's at gemini...

another thing i can see that pretty boy doing is kiss his partner periodically without warning

and he will do it EVERYWHERE

be prepared for surprise kisses

but pino isn't the type to be aggressive about it at all. it's more like... you'll be doing something mundane and p will just come up and kiss you softly on your head/hand/cheek/lips/ect

tbh this is giving me a oneshot idea

he also loves to cuddle, but was super hesitant to do it at first because he's so heavy that he's nervous you'll just feel uncomfortable:(

but over time i can def see him crawling into bed with you and snuggling after you gave him a talk about it

"pino you never make me uncomfortable when you cuddle with me!!! now get in bed!!!" and he just obeys and the topic never gets brought up again

also, i hope you're not freaked out by people staring at you

because tbh... pino would absolutely stare at you intently over everything you do

but the boy is just so enamored by you and your beauty HE JUST NEEDS TO LOOK AT YOU ALL THE TIME!!!!

im sorry he's kind of a weirdo </3

also? because he's learning what it means to be human what better way to do it than to just watch it happen in real time!! and from his favorite person at that!!!

another thing i can see p doing is giving you random things he finds while adventuring

sometimes they're really cool things like extra parts from a giant puppet he fought!!

other times... it would be trash

but nevertheless, you still accept it because it truly is the thought that counts

and if it's cool to him and brings him joy, it brings you joy too!!

overall this boy just adores you and and would give you the world if he could. you're just so delicate and precious to him💞

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

[themissingnumbers]

[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."