#my brain is fried now likely due to typing too much after work but now I'm done for the night goo'bye

[mewkwota]

Ahhh for the character thing, classic blues/protoman? Love your art btw!

Oh geez, hello to the boy who has been gone for a long-long time.

Send Me a Character

And I will tell you my:

First impression This was the first Mega Man character that get me hooked to "lore". I know mysterious characters with the deep backstory usually get people, but of all the ones to have them for me it had to be Blues.

I guess at the time, I hadn't really thought of things involving my favorite characters so much like that. Where you'd delve into every aspect of them then create derivative works based on what you've learned, but like in a way that's a slight extension to the canon, as opposed to all-out AUs like that I've usually done in the past.

Some of this follows the thought process I had with Rock and his perspective as a child robot, but with Blues' complicated traits.

Whether it was for light-hearted jokes or emotional explorations, I sure drew a whooole bunch with this fella on that. Maybe the word I'm looking for is a muse.

On simpler terms, I also liked Proto Man's scarf. It brings out his design so nicely, and it's yellow. Which I also like. :)

Impression now I've since moved on from my huge burst of focus on Proto Man, but I'm sure that's what he'd want. I still think he's cool of course.

Favorite moment Do I actually have one? I think it's just nice to see him, really.

Idea for a story I remembered a long time ago that I wanted to put together how I depicted Blues' time with Dr. Light, up until he chose to run away. I never got to that last part though the ideas still float in my mind.

Unpopular opinion I like to see Blues as a kiddo like his brother Rock. Mega Man Upon a Star had a really sweet depiction of him that fit this to a tee.

Favorite relationship You know how I am with the Light Numbers in general. Blues is the oldest one. I remembered really enjoying the art I made where he would be there for his lil'bro.

Favorite headcanon He is allowed to be silly. And I don't mean snarky, let him be silly. This super old art I drew comes to mind of what I mean.

[kbagraces]

Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(Third person perspective)

PART 4 -

I KNOW IT WON’T WORK

"What if I'm not worth the time and breath your saving?"

yourusername just posted

It's finally finished! My debut album! I'm so proud of this, she's my baby. Thank you for being patient over these last 6 years. We've had singles, we've had EPs and now an ALBUM.

Introducing "I know it won't work" out November 4th!

To thank you, one more single off the album before she's all yours. The song the whole project is named after, 'I know it won't work' is yours!

Liked by landonorris, pietrapiola and 127,000 others

Since leaving Lando's in the summer, y/n had worked non stop on the album. She was right in telling him it wouldn't work as they now were speaking less than they ever had. Hence the blatantly obvious title track written solely about him. She put her soul into this album, songs that were personal to her every experience.

Everyone would interpret them differently, one of the things she loved about her art. But he'd know and in the back of her mind she worried for his reaction. Would he be happy? Would he be hurt?

Beautiful song. Call me sometime.

That was it. A simple message as if he knew she was worrying. It was just enough to calm her. She left his in May it was now September. Things were fine for a month, until calls got few and far between how she'd expected. It was normal she knew they'd come back to each other but this one hurt more, maybe because she felt his promises were now empty.

July was worse as Lando was spotted with some model she'd not heard of. She wasn’t one to believe gossip pages, so when she saw she couldn't think quick enough before her hands had type a message to Pietra, her inside woman when it came to Lando gossip due to her boyfriend and his 'bromance' as they call it.

Pietra confirmed they were causally seeing each other. Empty promises. Y/n found herself infatuated with the mystery girl, leading to her writing one of her songs 'Lacy' off her new album.

The song she is performing tonight at the Brits. She's beyond nervous. Not speaking to Lando before hand like she usually would isn't helping. She's on in 30 minutes and her brain is racking up all the things that could go wrong. But he's not hers to call anymore.

Pietra was there but she was engrossed in her phone, not aware of y/n’s mental termoil.

Y/n’s phone rings... Lando. She doesn't want to give in but God does she need these nerves to go.

"Hi Lan, long time no speak." She sighs out of awkwardness.

"P told me you're a surprise guest at the Brits? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so proud of you y/n/n." He cheers. She can hear the smile in his voice talking like nothing had changed, like she hadn't just released a song about how much she dreaded the idea of them together.

"I wasn't meant to tell anybody, you know."

"I'm not anybody though, y/n/n." He sounds hurt now. That's not what she meant. She just wasn't sure he cared anymore. She'd been ignoring him after she found out about his mystery girl leading them to only drift further apart. "What are you singing tonight? The song about me or..." he teases.

She's glad he gets it, she's glad he's not angry.

"Um, well. No. Well it's not the latest song if that's what's your asking?" She stutters, it's not the one he's heard, but not far fri being about him.

"Another one about me? Oh I am flattered. Can this one be a little happier this time. I wasn't all bad in our friendship."

"Oh this one is sort of about you, but not really. And it's not happy I'm sorry, I wrote it when I was a little crazy but it's too good to not release." She's rambling, he knows she's nervous whether it be about the performance about the song abour talking to him, he can sense it.

"10 minutes!" Someone yells form outside her dressing room

"Lan I've got to go. Thank you for calling. We'll speak soon?" Another empty promise.

"Y/n/n, wait. You'll smash it you know. You're amazing at what you do, everyone will love it whatever it's about."

He always knew what she needed to hear, she hated that about him. She hated that they were still so in sync. But he's with someone else, it won't work.

As she steps on stage, smoke circles around her feet. The lights so bright she can barely see the crowd, it makes it easier.

"Lacy, oh Lacy..."

The cheers were deafening, she'd never felt more acknowledged, more proud. Tears in her eyes she hugs her guitarist so tight. She's proud of herself, her hard work paying off.

She doesn't stick around for press, the alcohol she downed after her performance would throw all PR training out the window. Pietra joins her to continue the party back at her London flat.

Yourusername just posted a picture

You got the one thing that I want

Brits thank you for having me

A couple of drinks more and P makes her way home to Max, leaving Pippa alone once more. A little too drunk to control her best interests, picking up her phone. Clicking Lando. It rings and rings until,

"Y/n, it's 2am where you are! What's wrong?"

"Lan! I did it! Did you see me? Of course you didn't, but I did it! I wish you were here." Why did she say that, but she didn't care right now she wanted him to be proud of her.

"Of course I saw y/n/n. Would never miss something like that. You're so talented, unbelievably talented."

"Lando who's on the phone"

Y/n heard it, the girl she's penned as Lacy. Embarrassment flushes her already red face from the alcohol.

"I didn't realise you had company, I'll leave you to it. Im sorry." A lump forming almost instantly in her throat. The alcohol heightening her emotions, although they were very real, just never this on the surface.

"Don't be sorry. I'll sit in the living room, we haven't spoke in so long please don't hang up. Please." She can't say no, she could never say no. He has a hold on her. They both know it, it infuriates her, causing her to blurt out emotions she saved only for writing sessions never to his face.

"You broke your promise." So quiet he almost missed it.

"What promise?"

Ouch.

"You promised to wait for me. You said it'd be different. We speak less than we ever have. I'm losing you and you're losing me. It's supposed to be us Lando. Now its you two."

"You never gave me a chance, y/n/n. You never gave me a chance in our friendship nor a relationship. You got fixated that it would be bad, you pushed me away not the other way around."

"I'm scared that's why! Not because I don't want you because I'm terrified it'll ruin what we have."

"Well we don't even have that anymore."

Double ouch.

"I'm going to go. I'm sorry I shouldn't have called."

"Y/n/n- wait- I-" He stutters, he doesn't know what he wants to say, he just doesn't want her to go. The girl in his bed is a pass time, he even thinks she's aware of it. She's enjoying her 5 minutes of fame, nice holidays and dinners knowing she's a place holder for the one he can't have.

"Bye Lan"

Tears finally leave her eyes, built up from 2 years of fighting for each other to end with nothing. Why was she so scared of the one thing she wanted? She hated herself right now. She couldn't stop crying from such a high to such a low. She reached to her phone which was still pinging with messages from Lando. Switching it off the tears fell and fell staining her blush coloured pillows.

This is all wrong and she's not sure it'll ever be right.

Masterlist

[senka-mesecine]

Asking for your opinion on how you think the reader would get together with the platoon cast members/get into a relationship with them? Like how would the confession/realization stage work between them hypothetically, do they have some sort of dramatic sunset kiss scene where they confess their love or do they just mutually decide “yeah, you’re stuck with me now”

-

― Chris Taylor strikes me as the king of pining. The admire from afar type. The 'I'd rather write about you and vax poetic than actually talk to you' guy. The bottle up my feelings inside type. Something significant, groundbreaking and almost triggering would need to happen to him for him to actually muster up the courage to figuratively bite the bullet and initiate and act upon all the emotions he had internally all along because you probably lived in this guy's letters and say, journal more than he's ever actually did anything in regards of his bubbling affections; and when this landmark event happens --- this something that pushes him into action, he is capable of going from a passive admirer or a quaint friend to entirely hands on overinvolved, dramatic sunset or no sunset, meaning that he probably realized he loved you all along, he just didn't do anything about it because he might've been slightly cynical about relationships as a whole, seeing it as the type of thing his parents would've tried to push him into numerous times before and to actually care for someone now on his own accord almost feels like a betrayal of principles, making the confession only just seem sudden when it isn't actually --- was boiling in him below the surface. Something just shook up Taylor from his slumber and he did what he should've done all along.

― For O'Neill? Man, the realization stage happens immediately. What realization stage? There's none of that. He sees you and his jaw drops. Zap. Love at first sight. Brain fried, no thoughts. The cigarette probably plops out of his mouth too. He's immediately in stuttering flirtation mode, pestering you, annoying you, negging you one moment and then simping the other and he makes no effort to conceal the fact that he's hot for you because why would anyone even conceal that? And even if he could, he's too nervy to actually pull off such a feat of discipline; he'd just twitch to irk and vex you one way or another like it's an itch he just has to scratch. Whatever the case, Red's on your ass like a red ant since day one and it's pointless to actually confess anything because due to how vocally irritating he gets in regards of you; everyone and their grandma just about concluded entirely on their own that this guy's down bad seeing as how if there was a list of top ten ramblings he most frequently indulges in you rank very high up there, meaning that he's invested and in this whole thing much sooner than you probably are. He already acts like he's in a relationship. Better yet; like a spouse that's been married twenty years to you and you're yet to wisen up to the fact you're part of the O'Neill clan.

― Bunny's like...Bunny. Sees the object and subject of his affections, decides he likes and wants the object and subject of his affections, does an act of service that would otherwise be considered harrowing by any normal standards five minutes after meeting them. Hey, here's a tattoo in the shape of a heart I pierced with a needle raw just now, never mind the fact it's freshly bleeding. Y'like it? That's...literally introductions. He is very well capable of doing that before you even know his name or are properly introduced to him seeing as how he operates on pure shock factor and in fact, shocking you is the goal. It's funny to him in a way only he understands. He skips the courtship. Skips the confessions. Skips all the commonplace landmarks of love. Jumps right into the fray. You my girl. So, we doin' this or not? It's literally that easy for him. He declares and decides on a thing and outcome and he'll pursue it until he gets it, plan being to pretty much pester you into a relationship and he doesn't care either ways if he never gets a clear closure or answer on your thoughts about this; in his mind, you're like, a thing. So good luck ever actually shaking him off seeing as how he very acutely embodies the whole 'you're stuck with me now' description of events. You knew him for a scandalously short amount of time and he's already latched on like a leech, refusing to un-latch.

― Wolfe, uh...hovers. You know, he just hovers? He's vaguely nice and he's around. Perpetually. Somewhere in the background. Somewhere nearby. Somewhere at hand. Doesn't get involved but he is involved, if you catch my meaning. Even when you overlook him and he fails at a great many things, he's...kinda always there. Peripheral. At arm's length. That's the definition of him in love and how he effectively 'initiates' a relationship. If he sticks around long enough it'll eventually happen because if he's always there one of these days he'll simultaneously be there at the right moment, at the right minute, second and hour and things will align and click just right and you'll somehow go from being barely an acquittance to being engaged to being married in the span of barely an eye's blink; so fast, in fact, it might even shock you as it happens to you. It's all about timing with him. His confession is deeply tied to timing too. Wolfe's the type to not necessarily personally take part in a brawl but he'll sure as hell tactically show up to 'break it up' once it's already over. He hovers, hovers and hovers you into a relationship and he's either operating on unassuming cunning or he's slightly sleazy. Maybe both. Hard to tell. But, you get won over and you're not even sure how or when it happened. The early bird catches the worm.

― Yeah, alright, for dramatic scenes? Rhah's your guy because he'll have a whole elaborate tirade speech after stewing in his feelings for god knows how long and when he does have his speech you'll almost feel you're being accused of something extremely dire seeing as how intense and impassioned he comes off as in his monologuing; but that's just the byproduct of all his feelings coming out big and theatrical as he holds nothing back, dumping it all on you at once. He'll just about openly tell you he loves you to your face, looking you in the eyes, invading your personal space but making his confession sound like they're fighting words. He could tussle with you just about now as well as make out with you. He's as passionate as he is deeply cynical. He might think of you as a Jezebel that's out to trick him in some shape, way or form and that what he feels is bad news and he knows this because he had plenty of time to germinate on the idea and realize the fact that he's in deep; that you could technically have him at your mercy because his damn heart's gone and been compromised bigtime. He treats all of this almost like it's an infection and that you're the one who's made him sick, but it's not as bleak as it seems because Vermucci's soliloquy is also simultaneously a confession he wants this, albeit in a very eccentric fashion. Might as well lose his soul to something good. He just as easily jumps from apparent hate to love within a second.

― King is loveably uncomplicated and never made a secret out of any of this --- any of his feelings --- in fact, his friendliness and open nature might've made it apparently clear, in a gradually moving sense, that he was your friend, that he liked you and then finally, that he cared; like, the development was all there over a period of time and obvious from the get go and even the most gullible person wouldn't be able to miss it, making King the opposite of someone like, say, Chris Taylor who's all about the secret, introspective longings. The angst. See, King's not like that all and he might think the whole pining thing --- it's rich people stuff, because only rich people have the luxury of wasting time like that instead of taking action and investing in a good something coming out of what was initially nothing. With him, entering a relationship is just the next logical step after a barrage of him being joined at the hip with you because he's consistently been nice to you and you consistently had reason to reciprocate, the same way he's consistently flirted with you, amped up the charm, giving you plenty well-threaded terrain to do the same, making the decision less of a mutual agreement with strictly drawn out lines and regulations but more something that just falls into place naturally because it feels natural, baby. King just gets under the skin like that to the point being together is a given.

― Elias could be the only one out of the bunch to actually have a dramatic sunset in his confession of love; as in, taking you to some quiet, secluded, beautiful place to have a face to face conversation on the matter and talk to you directly about the way he feels. And he does. He explains all of it to you in a very upfront, transparent, sincere way and for all intents and purposes his could be considered the most traditionally acceptable (and healthy) way to approach love and initiating things seeing as how he'll actually sit down and have an immersive talk to you about it that could very well last the whole night as you both pour your respective perspectives along with your hearts out. It's one of those once in a lifetime conversations that literally change you. Like, there's no denial what you are to each other after this one-on-one ends. He knows and now you know too. Elias almost treats this whole thing like something you righteously deserve to know and that keeping it from you would somehow be dishonest or unfair towards you, respecting you too much to have you hanging or in the dark, and he leaves much of where this all goes up to you because for all his kindness, he is somewhat jaded and he doesn't want to burden you with something you might not necessarily want and even when you profess that you do want it, he'll still ask and inquire if you're sure.

― Barnes is never going to confess. Not in the classical sense, no. He's executive like that. There probably will never be a time when he outright does so. He's just going to go about his day and do his quiet acts of service in relation to you until it becomes a norm that Barnes is the giver and you're the receiver and that by extension this ritual is so well and frequently observed in an unbroken chain, you're together due to it. Because, you see, people do things for him. Not the other way around. Anything from offering him cigarettes to lighting said cigarettes. Man had the audacity of ordering Taylor to bring him a medic even though he tried to murder him the night before. He calls the shots. Period. So for him to do something for someone else? Real quietly? Making no fuss about it? That's his love language. He effectively confesses every time he patches up your wounds even though he doesn't have to, every time he flicks a leech off of your skin and keeps on moving, every time he kills a snake at your feet, prevents you from walking into booby traps or does anything for you that that could be considered in service of you instead the other way around. He claims you through the stuff he does for you, through the noiseless devotion of it all, the notion he'd kill and die for you if push came to shove, not through words but even if he does say it vocally he's going to say it only once and make it count. His logic is that if anything ever changes, oh, you'll know immediately. Like, when Barnes ceases loving you one can tell.

[widowbitessting]

I feel like reader would totally forget to eat/sleep if they got busy with uni work and that just wouldn't fly with the mommies/ or they would be over tired and be disrespectful by accident and be like oh shit afterward 😂

Thanks for the submission @findmeinthestars and sorry it's like 7 months late! <3 I know I've done a couple of these, I just love this trope so much.

You would for sure do this at one point.

Like, you'd be too engrossed with your work that everything else - drinking, eating, talking to your super hot girlfriends, just gets completely forgotten about.

Now, please understand this. You don't do it intentionally.

Not at all.

You just...deadlines happened.

A lot quicker than you anticipated (maybe because you wrote the wrong dates down on your phone, but let's not talk about that).

Which resulted in the sudden long cram session where your basic needs slowly get forgotten.

It started at 5am.

5 fucking am.

6am passes quickly, just like the Trio! as they quickly rush to work; believing your weak promises to eat and drink.

By 7:30am, you have already consumed your fourth cup of coffee and are well on your way to your fifth.

There is no water in sight.

To give yourself some credit, you did try to eat something.

The bread is still waiting in the toaster.

Which means you had every intention to eat.

You just...didn't.

As you went to click the bread down to make it become toast, you remembered some vital research that you didn't do.

Thus your breakfast being forgotten.

By the time the Trio! come home after work, their sweet little baby is still sat in the same spot, typing/writing furiously as you had when they had left work that morning.

It's Natasha who finds you.

Eyes red from exhaustion, body trembling from the excess amount of caffeine consumed.

"Baby girl, have you been working this entire time?"

"Mmm."

"Talk to me. Please tell me you've taken a break. Had some water, something to eat?" Natasha is worried.

Rightfully so.

"Can you just stop talking? I need to focus!"

It isn't until Natasha's face is directly in front of yours that you register the fuck up.

Oh shit.

"I didn't -"

"Talk to me like that again, little girl, and I will have you over my knee faster than you can say sorry. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Have you eaten or had water today?"

"I've - I've had coffee."

"And?"

"...more coffee."

Your brain is far too exhausted, too fried, to even consider bratty responses.

"Go to the fridge and get something to eat. And a glass of water, now."

"But -"

"Now!"

You do as you're told, exceptionally quickly, and scurry to the fridge to grab the first thing you find.

You then grab a big cup and fill it with water.

When you return, Natasha has moved your things and all but drags you to sit on the sofa with her.

"Carol is going to make us dinner." She tells you. "And Wanda is going to run you a bubble bath. You need to rest, moya milaya veshch'."

"Yes, but --"

You nestle into her side regardless.

It's second nature, whenever you sit beside on of the three women now, to be physically touching them anyway you can.

"You can work later. In an hour...maybe two...just for now, love; just relax."

"I'll -"

"When is your work due, baby girl?"

"End of the weekend," You reply around a mouthful of food, "midnight."

"So you'll rest this evening, do a few more hours of work before bedtime and then tomorrow, work with regular food and water breaks. Understand?"

"Yes, mommy."

Natasha encourages you to take a large drink of water.

"Such a good girl."

[sqtorux]

🫁 hello friend! i only have one (1) thing due tonight so i fully caught up on your works as a means of procrastinating <3 this ask is only about your two most recent posts for the sake of brevity + not spending too much time since i promised myself to get back on the grind after sending this lmao

‘fuzzy menace’ … my favourite thing is asking you to guess my fav parts even though 1) you’re never given an opportunity to guess and 2) it’s always the same characters. anyways it’s nanami and toji. 

“what’s this gentleman doing on my side of the bed i wonder?” fdkshfds ,,, great start tbh and it’s SO NANAMI. nanami tends to be (understandably!) portrayed very seriously, so seeing a more playful (albeit still stoic) side of him here was a pleasure <3 he sounds a little teasing too ?? my lord. the first line is obvi my fav but “absolutely. how outrageous.” is a close second !! short but sweet, and his voice is so strong through out it <3 look at my man watch him go!

toji is the complete opposite in energy and i fw it so much. reader and toji are always giving each other soo much shit (even if on this occasion it’s predominantly him). the switch from toji to bald toji is so … it’s so him but it was truly awful to witness. i have 1 (many) fear(s) and it’s my fav character getting hit with the jason todd special (ugly haircuts. usually a buzzcut.) toji is realising my worst nightmare rn.”fuck does he think he is smirking like that on your bed” he’s so dumb LMAO. look at that little hypocrite go.

‘look at you go’. guess my fav parts. one day i’m going to make you guess and not tell you and comment on every individual piece. it’s suguru and toji.

now is it any surprise i’m in love with suguru … “can you dance again for me princess?” i’m not even big on pet names but lordy lord hello saviour. fun fact but i LOVE dancing even though i haven’t taken lessons since i was 13 (i’ve been considering picking it back up ?? i’m not sure though, i feel like since i’m an adult it’s too late to get back into old hobbies i’ve fallen out of and take lessons, yk? plus it's so expensive ...) having that shit recorded would be mortifying i don’t blame reader in these pieces at all. “you’ll keep asking if i give in just once” to “then you can give in again and again yeah?” kill me RIGHT NOW. oh my lord. i would give in too.

sorry i would write on toji but !! ugh my brain is fried. you can probably tell since there’s a lot of personal interjections this time ,,, also suguru has been haunting my brain the past week. i want to write something for him so bad but i’ve had no ideas ?? it’s so annoying. also i’ve been too busy with schoolwork to sit down and write anything

looking back. god this ask is so long.

RAHHH ITS LUNG ANON

you're ... reading,, my shit.. during a break... THATS A HUGE HONOUR GR breaks are for only the most enjoyable stuff bc it's limited and the impeding doom of working awaits but you chose to read the stuff here omfg i will scream at your face (lovingly).

if you made me guess your faves id always go with the big three (suguru, nanami and toji) bc i know you like wdym anon we've known each other since our uterus debutation obviously.

ALSO YOU DANCE let's gooo!!! i do too and just like you, i haven't danced in a while but im broke as fuck so im self taught filming covers back in those days ah. hobbies as an adult are so hard for real, adulting is hard where is the return ticket i would like to be a tween again i know what to do this time. i think.

maybe when your workload becomes a little lighter you could type out the suguru thoughts plaguing your mind ;)

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Eight

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: 18k (I need help)

Chapter Warnings: jealous!nico makes a tiny cameo lmao, fluff!!! it's everywhere!! like those pranks you see on tv where they put like honey on someone then send them through a door with a bucket of feathers hung precariously over the top. so fluffy. and little sprinkles of fake dating!! the best writing trope there ever was. poppy's family are a living breathing nightmare, so angst there including comments about food/weight/eating and just a lot of ignorance and judgement, and nico is her saving grace. repeatedly. that's all I've got.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Seven)

A/N: you know that meme of sarah paulson laughing at her phone in ahs and she looks like a clown that's me rn after finally finishing this!!! not a single thought in my brain in the 14 days since I posted the last chapter. no gender reveal in here it will be in the next chapter tho!! I didn't really want to time jump too much in one go or include too many milestones because I feel like I'd just be skipping stuff for the sake of it, and I wanted to dedicate a chapter entirely to one aspect of the pregnancy. I literally had one conversation in this pre planned and the rest came to me after DAYS of staring at a blank page lmao but I hope you all enjoy as always would love to hear any thoughts any feelings anything at all 💖

Nico

Coming to the realisation that he is seriously no good at the concept of baby steps takes Nico a grand total of three days. 

To give himself credit, it has been three long days of battling every instinct in his body to hover protectively in Poppy’s peripheral. 

The first day had been the easiest - mainly due to the fact he and Poppy spent it together anyway, her having the day off of work and him only having that morning training session and an afternoon practice after he had dropped her home. 

He had been able to shamelessly dote on her in the safety of his own home - he had ordered her in a late lunch, a giant caesar salad she had no chance of getting the whole way through and some sweet potato fries, and she hadn’t been sick again the whole time they had been together. They had sat with each other on the couch, creating a joint calendar where they could figure out when to book her first scan, and he had sat and watched her as she made the appointment, biting nervously at the skin around her nails until he pulled her hands away from her mouth to break the habit. 

They had marked the date in their phones, Friday 23rd, where they would both be at work but Nico didn’t have a game, and had given it the cryptic title of Blueberry Day in case anyone accidentally came across it, because that is how big Google had told Poppy the baby would be by then.

And it had been then that it dawned on Nico that he was now responsible for a pretty big secret, which made the second day almost unbearable.

The Devils hosted the Avalanche at home, and where he spent his evening dealing with the mammoth task of playing some of the greatest players in the league, and the team that had taken home the cup only two seasons prior, he had spent his entire day with the even bigger workload of keeping his mouth shut around his parents.

His mother, specifically, who had mastered the art of knowing her son like the back of her hand.

Keeping secrets had never been Nico’s strong suit. It’s probably the youngest child in him, he thinks, his siblings having tried every single trick in the book on his parents before he ever had the chance, and he never managed to perfect his poker face - especially when it came to Katja.

His mom, who had once told him she had memorised the depth in which he breathed in his sleep, and so she could always tell he was pretending when he curled himself up in bed with his hand tucked under his pillow, holding his beat up brick of a phone under it while he waited for updates from his friends on the latest football score-lines from across the European leagues, and faking snores when she came to check up on him.

She would always huff out a resigned sigh, would reach under the pillow and take the device from a clutch too tight for him to have been asleep.

“You can text your friends in the morning, Neeky,” She would say as she tucked his phone into her back pocket, levelling him with a knowing look when he peeked an eye open only to roll it at her astute observation skills. “You have school tomorrow, you need to sleep.”

But during the second day, when he had managed to grab brunch with his parents before he was shut away in preparation for the game, as much as he still feared being on the receiving end of that dissecting glare, he had to bite his tongue to keep his priorities in check.

He had promised Poppy he would move at her pace - baby steps and all - which means respecting her boundaries and only telling other people when she is ready to do so.

So when his mother had brought up Poppy, had asked how she was getting on after being sick, and how he was getting on after she had laid into him after his event the week before, he had told the whitest lie that he hadn’t had chance to check up on her yet.

He had rationalised it by telling himself it was the truth. He hadn’t checked up on her yet, that morning. Not until after brunch, when he had arrived at the arena and had made a bee-line straight for her office.

As much as he wanted his mom to know - wanted to share what could be the biggest thing to ever happen to him with the woman who gave him life, and wanted to see her reaction in person before she was to fly home in a few days - putting pressure on Poppy to tell her just because she’s in the country and will be leaving soon hadn’t exactly seemed like the best idea. Pressing her on it and coercing her into something she might not be ready for had felt unfair - especially given how patient she had been with him.

Only, when he made it to her office, and had heard the sound of her melodic laughter even through the closed door, and had opened it to see her sat across from Josh from PR, all other rational thought had left his head. He had to clench his free fist and bite his tongue to save from screaming the news from the rooftops - thinking there might be someone jumping the queue of who needed to know first.

“Nico!” She had shot up from her seat at his arrival, and he had thought his mind was playing cruel tricks on him when he had seen her eyes light up, but then the telling twist of her lips followed. She was happy to see him. Thank God. Calm down, he had told himself. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” his eyes had darted inconspicuously over to Josh, “I’m cutting it a little bit fine for training and I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The thing.” Poppy had pressed her lips together in amusement, her own focus going back to the man sat on the other side of her desk. “Sorry, Josh, can I come find you later?”

“Of course, you know where I’ll be, Poppy,” Josh stood, “Good luck today, Nico,” he smiled as he passed him. “Go, Devils!”

Nico had jut his head as an acknowledgement, able to just about stop himself from outwardly cringing and rolling his eyes, muttering out a quick and direct, “Joshua,” as if that was any reasonable kind of response.

“You’re disturbingly bad at being subtle.”

“Yeah, well I was on the spot,” he huffed back, eyes narrowing at the chair that was supposed to be his, but now looked uncomfortable and worn. “How’re you feeling?” He had rounded the corner of her desk, instead, stepping more into her side of it and placing a strawberry smoothie he had picked up for her by her monitor before perching himself on the corner. She had still smelled a little like him, like she had used his shampoo when she had been over the day before and the scent still lingered in her hair, and he watched with bated breath as she chose to stand in front of him instead of sitting back down. 

“I’m fine,” she shrugged, arms crossing over herself as she leant against the wall directly in front of him. 

“Fine?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t look fine. She had probably looked the best he had seen her in a good few weeks - colour in her cheeks, hair down and brushed smooth instead of haphazardly pushed back, a soft gleam back in her eyes - but if his sister and mother had ever taught him anything of serious value about women, it would have been that fine never means fine.

“I’ve been resisting the urge to puke in my trashcan for a good hour at Josh’s cologne,” she had admitted, her lips twisting guiltily as if she hadn’t wanted to say anything even remotely mean.

“He smells that bad?” He hadn’t been able to help but tease, and had chuckled heartily when she leaned over to shove at his shoulder.

“No, it was just strong. I feel like I need to sniff coffee or something to reset my senses.”

“Do you want me to get you some?”

“No,” she leans back against the surface behind her. “I thought you were cutting it a little bit fine for training.”

“I am. Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

“I do actually,” she had craned her head back, wistfully, but had only kept him sweating for a moment before adding, “I’ve made arrangements with my bathroom floor. Candles, Hozier playing, non-alcoholic rosé, I think if I can convince my brain that spending all my time with my head in the toilet isn’t that bad, the nausea will go away.”

“If anyone can reverse-psychology morning sickness, it would be you.”

The smile she had given him back was astute, head tilting from her position against the wall as she raised a brow at him. “Where do you want me?”

If only she knew the half of where he had wanted her. 

“My mom’s going home on Friday morning,” he had mirrored her stance, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs just a little as he sat atop her desk, angling himself so that she was directly ahead of him. “They’re coming to my place for dinner tomorrow night, and she’s been on at me since last week about seeing you again, so I figured it would be nice if you were there.”

“She’s been on at you?”

“Neeky, you should see if Poppy’s free,” he had tried his best to respectfully imitate her voice, and had ended up sounding somewhere in between a muppet and a chipmunk. “Will Poppy be at your game tonight? Will she be at the game on Thursday? She’d probably extend her trip if you asked her to, I don’t even think she flew out to see me in the first place.”

“It’s because she knows.”

“She knows?” 

“Well, she thinks she knows,” Poppy had rolled her eyes affectionately. “She called me out back when you had the signing last week. I’d told her about how I wasn’t feeling or sleeping too great, and she assumed it was because I was pregnant straight away. She’s kind of the whole reason I ever thought to take a test in the first place, apparently you Hischier babies all wreak the same kinds of havoc in the womb.”

“Oh, God, please tell me she didn’t go into too much detail,” he cringed, his face curling up at the thought of what his mother could have possibly said to her - at the thought of her even jumping to that conclusion in the first place. 

“No, it was really sweet, actually.” Poppy hummed, smiling softly just at the memory, “I was trying not to freak out at even the thought of being pregnant, and she spoke about it like it was the greatest time of her life. Even after I told her I wasn’t, she made me feel like it would be okay if I was,”

“That explains why she laid into me after,” he scoffed in amusement, remembering in vivid detail the lecture she had given him as he drove her back to meet up with his dad after the event. “She bit my ear off the whole way back to her hotel about how I need to appreciate the good people in my life more.”

“Aw,” Poppy cooed, pushing herself off the wall and stepping into the space just in front of him, reaching to pinch his cheek gently and mocking him with, “Did Neeky get a telling off from his mommy?”

He had swatted her hand away despite his cheek curving into her touch, trying to suppress the smile teasing his lips at even the closer proximity. “She saw us talking before the event, noticed we weren’t exactly in the best place and she told me to sort things out before I lose you, basically.”

“Her manifestation skills are crazy off the charts,” Poppy had scoffed, gesturing to her belly and lowering her voice like she was sharing an inside joke, “You’re pretty stuck with me, now.”

“What can I say? She’s good.” He had succumbed to the grin that was tugging at each corner of his mouth, so big that his eyes began to crinkle in the corners, and Poppy’s own gaze had flickered down to it and smiled back instinctively. “So, dinner?”

“That depends,”

“On?”

“Are you cooking?”

Nico had sighed, rolled his eyes dramatically and levelled her with as straight a face as he could muster, ignoring the urge to crack a smile at the way her own lips twitched with mirth. “I’m a good cook, Poppy.”

“Of course you are.” She nodded in agreement. “Hell, if I had a particular affliction for plain chicken and rice every day of the week I’d actually say you’re the best cook in Jersey, and I grew up with a house chef!” 

“I’m good with vegetables, too.”

“Just what every pregnant girl wants to hear.” Nico had wished he didn’t find her sarcasm so endearing, she was making it too hard for him to defend himself.

“Why don’t you come over earlier, then? You can supervise,” he hadn’t paid any mind to how desperate he had seemed, pressing and pressing and relenting to her every whim like it was nothing. He’d long made up his mind that things would just be like that for the foreseeable future. “I’ll even provide the candles and the music you’ll be missing out on.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

“Is that a yes? I promise I’ll go easy on the cologne.”

“Yours is fine,” Poppy shook her head, affectionately, lips twisting like she had been caught out at something she had no intentions of admitting, “Okay, yeah, I’ll be there. It sounds nice, actually. I did promise your mom I’d catch up with her, too.”

“Perfect,” and only because he seriously was cutting it fine to get to their final practice skate before their game that evening, he had jumped up from the desk, pressed a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head, and parted with, “I’ll pick you up at 6.”

And despite how insistent he had been with her in her office, it had been the third day that opened Nico's eyes to just how nigh on impossible baby steps would be when it came to how far gone he was for Poppy.

It had started in his kitchen, where they had easily settled once he had picked her up from her apartment after work, and the two of them were prepping vegetables to roast for the pasta sauce. Poppy had been laughing at the way he cried while cutting onions, he had been laughing at the way she frowned when she noticed the wine in the corner he had bought specifically for his parents, and they had conversed with ease the whole time as she cut the peppers and he cut the tomatoes - sharing stories of cooking with their families as children; specifically how Poppy used to spend her weekends with her grandmother, and would follow her around the kitchen like a magnet.

“Are you excited to tell her?” He had asked, leaning against the counter after putting their vegetables in the oven to roast and drying his fingers off with a hand towel. 

“I think so,” she had hummed in response, “More than I am to tell my mom, that’s for sure. I think I’m gonna put it off for as long as I can.”

“You don’t think she’ll be happy for you?”

She could only scoff at that, avoiding his gaze as she fiddled with her own fingers, inspecting her nails and shrugging. “She’ll find some way to make me feel bad about it.”

“Why would you feel bad about it?” His heart had sank at the thought - beyond the initial panic and fear at telling him the news, Poppy had been nothing but excited since. Disregarding the ever-present nausea and the exhaustion, she seemed to be running on the fumes of happiness the past few days, their shared secret eliciting subtle smiles whenever their eyes met at work.

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Poppy settled into the counter to the side of him, her posture slumped and defeated, “But she won’t understand it. She’s really old fashioned with stuff like this, and as proud as I am of what we’re doing, and how we’re dealing with this, she’s gonna turn it into something ugly. Lawyers and custody agreements and all those scary, official, set-in-stone kind of things.

And I realise that technically we should be agreeing on all that stuff if we’re not together, but I don’t want to ruin what we’re doing. The whole baby steps thing doesn’t exactly work when we have to pay people to figure everything out for us, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he had tried to keep a reassuring tone, despite the heavy weight that settled on his chest - a sense of impending doom cast over the two of them like a fast approaching dark cloud.

The thought of being on the other side of a nasty custody battle against Priscilla Jensen had made his heart do that hollow kind of thud in his chest. The kind that rattled and stuttered and filled his entire body with unrelenting doubt. The woman had hated him since the first moment she ever laid eyes on him, and that was before the possibility that he could have her grandchild snatched from her clutches in some court order.

Not that he ever would, but it wouldn’t stop the obviously insane thought from crossing her warped mind, and her doing everything in her seemingly unlimited powers to stop it happening.

“Maybe we should just tell her that we are together,” he had said it before even thinking it through, but as soon as the words left his mouth, some of that doubt had eased.

Surely it would lessen the blow, he had thought, if her mom knew that she was in a loving, committed relationship. That this wasn’t some mistake they would both come to regret and resent, or that there would never be an instance in which Nico could ever do anything so spiteful to Poppy as to interfere with her or her family’s rights to their baby.

Poppy’s brows practically met her hairline, shooting up in surprise, her eyes darting to meet his in alarm. “You think that we should pretend we’re a couple? To my mother?”

“It’s not like we wouldn’t pull it off,” he had shrugged, again feeling more comfortable the more the idea fully formulated in his mind, his shoulders straight and his tone fuelled by bravado. “She knows who I am, we’ve been in each other’s lives for years, we’re gonna be in each other’s lives for a long time, we would barely even be pretending, Poppy.” 

He could practically see the cogs turning in her brain, her head tilted, her eyes narrowed and a pensive pout pulling at her lips before she asked, “You’d do that for me?” Like he would be putting himself out. “Knowing what she’s like? Nico, you’re literally throwing yourself to the wolves.”

“I told you before, Poppy, I’d do whatever you need me to do,” he swore, “Even if that means looking your mother in the eye and praying I don’t turn to stone.”

When she grabbed the hand towel from the side and swatted him with it, he caught the fabric with a hearty laugh, his chest swelling with pride as he saw how much effort she was putting in to hold back a grin of her own.

“It’s not the worst idea,” she hummed, “I’ll probably feel less anxious about it if I can share the blame with you.”

“There you go,” he gave her a warm smile, like it was nothing at all for him to be on the receiving end of Priscilla’s wrath. Like the woman didn’t terrify him to his very core. “When should we tell them, then?”

He probably wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t brought it up, but with his own parents coming over in less than an hour, he had thought he would be able to gather his wits about withholding the truth if he had a timeline for it.

“I don’t know, in a few weeks, maybe? You guys have that stretch where you’re close to home the back end of March, and my brother is coming over for Easter. Maybe if we do it while the whole family is around it might save an argument. Plus, I’ll be around 12 weeks then, I think I’ll feel better telling them when we’ve had those first couple of appointments and we know everything’s okay.”

“Whatever you want to do, I’ll be there, Poppy.” He reached over to clasp his fingers around her hand, which she swiftly turned in his clutch to interlace her own fingers with his. “What about mine? Ideally I’d want to tell my mom in person, but I don’t think she’s coming out for the rest of the season now after Friday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Poppy frowned, her gaze turning guilty as she looked up at him, “Did you want to tell her tonight?”

“Not if that’s too soon for you,”

“If anyone deserves to be the first to know, it’s her, I think,”

“Are you sure?”

And even though it had been the desired outcome, for him to get to tell his parents in person, to see their reactions and gauge their thoughts on it all, he would have held back if that was what Poppy wanted. He would have settled for a FaceTime call if he needed to.

“Yeah,” Poppy smiled, “She called it, I kinda want to see her reaction to be honest.”

“She’s gonna lose her mind.”

“In a good way?”

There was a flash of something vulnerable in Poppy that squeezed relentlessly at his heart - a childlike insecurity wherein she craved any kind of maternal approval, and he felt content in knowing she would at least get some in this instance. 

“Poppy, you don’t even want to know the half of the torture she’s put me through since she met you. The idea of you giving her a grandchild is like the second coming of Jesus or something. She’ll be on cloud nine.”

And despite the cute little snort she did, and the way her lips curved up in the corners, that vulnerability remained. 

“You don’t think she’ll be a little disappointed? Or your dad, even? Like I’m taking your focus away from what’s important?”

Important?

Nico blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend what she was saying, and where it had come from. 

Had he really made her feel like she wasn’t important? Like she hadn’t been his sole source of reprieve and release most days?

“Poppy, you’re important.” He said it with ease, but the weight of the words and how much he meant them pushed on him until he was stepping forward, until his hands gripped at the sides of her upper arms and he just about saved himself from rattling the message into her bones. “My parents know that more than anybody, more than even I do sometimes. There isn’t a single inch of them that would be disappointed in either of us, not for this.”

“Are you sure?”

He raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, thumb swiping from her cheekbone up to her temple, “I’m positive,” he had hummed, “If it helps, we can tell my family the same thing we’ll tell yours-,”

“I don’t want to lie to your parents.”

Nico had always thought the way his parents loved Poppy was endearing - the way his father would ask about her work after he kept tabs on her projects with the Foundation online, the way his mother was always checking up with him about her wellbeing and what she was getting up to even outside of work - they had taken to her like she was their own, and he never had any worries or doubts about her being good enough to impress them. 

But the way Poppy loved them back - Poppy who had such fractious relationships with her own parents, who had never grown up with the reassurance that she would be loved and respected no matter what, or that whatever she ended up doing or achieving in life would always be enough - the way she embraced his mom and dad, had never shied away from their enthusiasm or made him feel embarrassed by their interference in her life, was something so precious he couldn’t even fathom the way it made him feel.

Poppy, who has always cared so much about him and his family, that the thought of being dishonest with them had turned her stomach.

“How about a half truth, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“We love each other, right?” She had nodded without any hesitation, and despite the fact that she had told him before, he feels warmth and relief pool in the pit of his stomach. “And we’re figuring out how this is going to work for us, right?” Another nod, and the gentle flutter of her lashes as she maintained eye contact. “Then I don’t think it’s a lie to tell them we’re together. And it helps with the overlap in case our families cross paths down the line, I don’t have to ask mine to bend the truth.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Bending the truth?”

“I think so,” he breathed, confident in his convictions that they weren’t going to have to lie. 

He loved her, she loved him, they were together in the sense that they had each other’s backs in a situation that had the potential to turn their whole worlds upside down. His parents didn’t need to know that he had hurt her before that, had messed things up so bad that she had no faith in his word that he wanted to be with her - but he knew that could be resolved. He felt it in his bones, knew in every fibre of his being that he could prove himself to her. They just needed time.

Time without interference from anyone else that there was an ever-looming deadline on those decisions.

Baby steps. Their own way.

“You don’t think she’ll catch us out?”

He tried to move swiftly past the way his heart sank at the thought that Poppy would always feel like someone was trying to catch her out or prove her wrong. She didn’t deserve that, and thankfully, he knew she wouldn’t receive that from his parents. Maybe they could help him reverse that damage, restore her faith that there would always be people in his world that would be in her corner.

“She’ll be too relieved at the thought of having another daughter that she won’t even care, Poppy. Especially considering it’s you.”

“Okay,” she had breathed out, like a sigh of relief, “Do we need a plan? A backstory?”

He had broken out in a wide grin at the thought, laughter bubbling up from the depths of his chest and he couldn’t even feel guilty about the way she arched her brow, unimpressed and concerned at the same time. “Poppy, we have a backstory. Don’t overthink it. We’re not lying, remember?”

She had started to smile back, bashful and sweet, and he had to force himself to take a step back so that he didn’t do something stupid and impulsive again. 

And he had spent the hour after that until his parents arrived all but tying his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching her, settling for the occasional bump of hips as they moved around his kitchen and the knock of elbows as they set the table together, repeating the baby steps mantra in his head and growing more and more frustrated with every iteration of it.

Only after his parents had arrived and they all sat around talking once they had eaten did he let himself ease into his instincts, self-indulgently slinging an arm across the back of Poppy’s chair and relishing the pounding of his heart when she’d laugh so hard at something that she would lean back into it.

They were yet to broach the big news, deciding between them to wait a little into the night so that they didn’t have to answer too many questions, and Nico had held his breath every time his mother started onto a new topic, just knowing she would be the one to prompt the conversation somehow.

“You know, Poppy,” she had leaned onto the table, pushing her glass of wine forward as not to spill anything, and had given her the kind of smile Nico associated with the gushing, proud speeches she would blurt out after long bouts apart. Where she would get sentimental and sappy and he would pretend it embarrassed him but really it stirred the kind of gratification he longed for when he was homesick. “I’m so glad we got to sit down and do this, I was worried after the last time I saw you we wouldn’t get the chance before I left.”

“Me too, I really appreciated your help back at the event, I figured I couldn’t let you go home without us seeing each other again, and it’s been really nice to catch up on everything.”

“It really has, I’m happy you could fit us in. I was telling Rino how I threatened you not to hang out with him without me when I’m gone next week.”

“I was hurt you agreed so easy, Poppy.” Nico’s father had chided in faux-outrage, with a fond roll of his eyes.

“You can’t call dibs on Poppy, Mom, especially if you’re pouncing on her when she’s sick.”

“I did no such thing!” Katja had gasped, and Poppy had leaned so far back that her head was resting just beyond the inside of Nico’s elbow, no intentions of sitting up or moving, watching his parents with an affectionate beam that lit up her entire face. “I gave her advice on how to feel better! And look at her now, glowing!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Poppy scoffed, “I’m probably a couple months from the whole glowing thing.”

He had felt her go rigid against him as soon as she said it, had tried to rub comfortingly at her shoulder to ease the tension as she looked up at him in alarm - hoping he could telepathically communicate to her that everything was going to be okay.

“A couple of months?” Katja questioned, her brow quirking in the same way Nico’s would whenever he was confused, or weighing up different possibilities in his head.

Poppy’s eyes stayed on his, apologetic, questioning, seeking his approval, and all he could do was smile as he looked down at her, letting the lopsided grin that was twitching at the sides of his mouth take over before he gave a quick nod, letting her take the reins on this.

“Uhh,” she turned back to face his parents, smiling nervously as she looked between them before settling on his mother. “You were right, before, about the dream thing.”

Nico watched as his mom’s lips turned up, the all-too-familiar knowing glint in her eye that only ever shone when she was proven right. The smile took over slowly, until her eyes wrinkled in the corners, and her nose scrunched in delight. “You’re pregnant?” 

Poppy could only nod, and Nico felt his heart swell three times bigger as her face transformed with unadulterated joy.

When she had told Nico, she had been afraid. She had been scared of his reaction, and fearful of what the future held, and he felt proud to know that she didn’t feel that way, anymore. Not in that moment, at least. Her features shone with lighthearted elation, and he could feel his own morph to mirror them.

“Oh, Poppy,” his mom had cried out, her own eyes welling up as she shot up from her seat and rounded the table, “That’s so wonderful!”

He watched tenderly as the two of them embraced, Poppy standing and melting into his mother’s arms, Katja rubbing at her back and most likely squeezing her - a feeling he knew all too well.

And when he looked over to his father, he found him already watching him, and met his eyes immediately, the corners of them crinkling and his lips curved into a soft, perceptive smile that communicated a thousand feelings. Pride, congratulations, acceptance, excitement.

Nico had hoped when Poppy got a good look at Rino, she would see the same - see there was never any need to pretend, any need to lie, that the truth sat between them all comfortably in the shape of familial, unconditional love and support.

“Tell me everything,” Katja had parted with her hands on Poppy’s arms, holding her in front of her with eyes full of wonder, “Nico never said you were seeing somebody.”

“Oh, I-,” Poppy had gawked.

“Mom-,” Nico had sighed.

“Kat,” Rino laughed heartily from across the table. “Don’t be silly.”

With Poppy still grasped in her arms, Katja looked between the three of them. Poppy’s guilty smile, her husband’s amused chuckling, the expectant pressing together of her son’s lips.

She had glanced between Poppy and Nico, doing the math in her head before she gasped. “You two?”

He nodded from behind Poppy, watching her body stiffen in anticipation of a bad reaction, his cheeks starting to ache already from the joy pressing into them. 

“You’re having my grandchild?” Her eyes had gone round, glassy in an instant, and Nico couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to share something with her that brought her this much happiness. She had always been proud of him, but this was something else, entirely. “I knew there was something going on!”

“You didn’t know,” Nico scoffed, standing to rescue Poppy from his mother’s excited shakes, pulling her into his own clutches and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. His hand had inched by default from her hip bone inwards, thumb and fingers cradling the unchanged curve of her belly, but the thought of the tiny seedling sprouting in there set sparks off in his own stomach.

“I’ve known you were hiding something. You’re a terrible liar, Neeky, you were breaking a sweat at brunch yesterday, pretending nothing new was going on,” Katja had pointed, her face morphing into sheer excitement as she shifted toward his father, “And I told you they’d end up together years ago!”

“Mom,” Nico had all but whined, unable to be truly embarrassed when he felt Poppy’s body sink back into his, the tension seeping from her bones as she melted into the moment - any previous anxiety or worries washed away by the fact his mother had come to the conclusion all on her own. There was no need for either of them to fabricate up some story or tell any half truths.

“She did,” Rino stood from across the table, circling around to congratulate the two of them, himself. “The first night we met you, Poppy, she said she had a feeling.”

“You really are good,” Poppy marvelled, her body vibrating with laughter against his. Comfortable, happy, cherished, just how he wanted her to be.

“No, I just know what’s good for my baby boy.” Katja cooed, reaching out to pinch at Nico’s cheeks affectionately before she took Poppy in her arms again, the four of them trading hugs between them like they were in an assembly line, his parents embracing her just like he knew they would, like she was one of their own, expressing their excitement with crinkled eyes and soft kisses to her cheeks.

In the almost 3 weeks that followed that night, baby steps had turned into what Nico could only describe as a misguided, drunken stumble - where he let unsteady limbs carry him in the wrong direction, but still somehow always ended up safe at home.

There had been the shameful Valentines Day incident, where he had built up enough blind courage to ask her over for another dinner date, and had been shut down before he could even properly propose it to her. 

“You doing anything tomorrow?” He asked when he had dropped by her office to offer a quick goodbye before the team flew out to Nashville, watching as her attention barely strayed from her computer, already so deep into her workload so early into her day.

“For Valentines?” She asked across the desk to him, “Oh yeah, I got men lining up down the block to take me out for a dinner I can’t keep down,” she scoffed, oblivious to the flash of something that had washed over him at the thought of her going on a date with someone else.

“Funny,” he gulped.

“Me and the girls usually do Galentines, like a boozy brunch kind of thing, but obviously I’m ruled out this year,” she broke from her typing to gesture at her stomach before going back to it, “Nia found a Paint’n’Sip near her apartment though, so that’s where I’ll be. Sans-sipping, of course.”

Nico had never struggled so much with the English language in one sentence than he had there.

“Galentines?”

Despite the embarrassment that had tickled his spine at asking, the way she smiled when she looked over to him made up for it.

“Valentines for the gals,” she pushed herself from her keyboard, giving her full attention over to him, then, “You boys really miss out on all the fun festivities, you should start a new one! Valen-guy-nes!”

“I’ll be sure to run that by the team on our flight later,” he scoffed.

“C’mon, that’s genius!”

And while he had never ended up asking her for that dinner, he had sent a bunch of flowers straight to her office, and reaped the rewards of his actions when she sent him a picture of two painted mugs beside each other on the Wednesday night, one with pink hearts and unfamiliar writing that said World’s Best Mommy-To-Be beside another, blue hearts with Poppy’s handwriting that read World’s Best Baby Daddy.

The latter end of that same week had been their Stadium Series game, one of the biggest events in the team’s calendar all year, and one he had been looking forward to since it was announced the year before.

The Devils organisation had set up their own celebrations for the guys to mark the monumental occasion, allowing them to bring their loved ones  out to East Rutherford to take part in a family skate. The guys were bringing out their parents, their siblings, their partners, their children. And Nico had wanted more than anything to bring Poppy.

He had followed up on what had now become a routine, dropping by her office that Friday when he arrived at the Rock with a red berry smoothie in hand, perching himself on the corner of her desk and talking through her plans for the day.

She had asked the same of him, knowing his father and sister would be joining him at the stadium, and wanting him to pass on her greetings.

“You could say hi, yourself,” he had said, head tilting as he watched her push back from her desk, her chair rolling to give her enough leverage to properly look up at him instead of half-focusing on her work. 

“We’re not really involved in the stadium stuff, now,” she had frowned, brows furrowing and her own head tilting in response. 

“Would you want to be?”

“Want to be what?”

“Involved.” He crossed his arms over his chest, surveying every iteration of emotion that crossed her face, before adding, “You could come out on the ice with us, for the family skate.”

“Won’t there be cameras there?”

He shrugged, having not put that much thought into that aspect of it. He just wanted his family with him, and she was a part of that now. “If there are, they’re following Jack and Luke, they’re not following me.”

“I think you underestimate how much people pay attention to you, Nico,” she had scoffed, “You get seen carting Bambi on ice around and people will start to ask questions.” She stood from her chair, fidgeting with her fingers as she stepped around him to busy herself with some unnecessary task to avoid the conversation.

“Would that be so bad? For people to ask questions, to know what we are?”

He was thankful for the smile that she gave, one of amusement.

“Nico, we don’t even know what we are.” She scoffed, “And as much as I would love to do it, I also kind of want to protect our peace for as long as we can.”

Protect our peace.

His mind had taken him somewhere he hadn’t wanted to go.

To private pictures being posted online, endless threads of vitriol and lies, and finding her in tears one day at the way her life had been turned upside down.

“Makes sense,” he agreed with a heavy sigh, his chest tightening as his thoughts spiralled. “I’m sorry, that was impulsive, I was just thinking about it and I wanted you to be there.”

He wanted what all the other guys had - to guide her around on wobbly legs and hold onto her for dear life as someone he treasured more than anything. He wanted to share this incredible thing with her, to stand in the centre of a stadium that could facilitate over 80,000 people and know she was the only one who could ever make him feel whole.

“It was sweet,” she reassured, her hand reaching out to rub soothingly at his arm as she stepped back toward him, “And I will be there tomorrow for the game. You just won’t get the pleasure of witnessing me make a fool out of myself on the ice quite yet.”

“Probably for the best,” he let his hand move between them, a curved finger stroking gently at her stomach, always relishing the reminder of what was in there, “I’ll get you out there one day.”

She smiled, big and bright, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “We’ll see.” She had said, like a promise, and despite him stumbling in his attempts to take another step in the right direction, he had still felt like he stuck the landing.

The weeks ahead had followed the same pattern.

Nico would suggest something to Poppy that fell just outside the remits of baby steps, she would find a way to shut him down - rejecting him with the kind of grace he wished softened the blow even the slightest, but didn’t - and he would go back to the drawing board on how to warm her up a little more to his attempts at moving the goalposts of their relationship.

And then, finally, Blueberry Day arrived.

Nico has circled the date in every diary he owns. The one on his phone, the little magnetised version attached to his fridge at home, the one he shares with his family in an online drive.

The date of Poppy’s first scan. 

He drops by her office to pick her up at lunch, having showered after his morning skate and freshened up enough not to cause concern when he takes her for something to eat before the appointment. 

They grab lunch together, Poppy’s morning sickness having subsided for the most part, only coming in the odd bout here and there and she no longer has to stress about certain foods aggravating her stomach. She’s now kicking into cravings - or, so she says.

Conveniently, it’s anything sweet - which helps his cause with the smoothie thing. She had directed him to a bakery nearby the clinic, and the two of them sit in the corner, Poppy trying her best to gulp down her water in preparation for the scan and chatting to him around mouthfuls of almond croissants and strawberry jam.

He tries to control his urges as he notices her press her fingers to her mouth when she watches him talk, cleaning them of the sticky sweet substance and batting her eyes at him like it’s nothing. 

3 weeks of taking things slow have done nothing but take a toll on him, every sense heightened when it comes to the girl in front of him - everything she does so endearing and captivating that he can’t remember the last time his heart wasn’t racing.

And when they’re sat in that darkened room together - her shirt raised to reveal the skin of her stomach, her fingers linked through his beside her on the bed, and both their gazes widened and glassy as they watch the slight staticky movements of a tiny peanut like figure on the screen in front of them - he feels like he is about to implode.

It’s a euphoric feeling if anything, unlike any emotion he’s ever felt before. That tiny peanut is theirs. Their blueberry. Their baby. And it’s still so small but is already occupying such a big part of his life.

He wakes up, and he thinks about it - anticipates his morning routine when the baby comes, getting up before Poppy, getting a bottle ready in the kitchen while he makes himself a coffee, getting the first feed out of the way so that she can sleep in. He goes to work and he thinks about it - one day carrying his little mini me around the arena, pointing out all the corners of the building in which he and Poppy became what they are now, what they could be in the future. He goes back to his apartment and he thinks about it - about a floor littered with toys and books, laughter bouncing off the walls, joy emanating from everywhere he turns in a place that had never felt as much like a home.

And his chest aches with optimism and longing.

It aches so much that when they get their little printouts of the scan, monochromatic stills of the ever-growing life in Poppy’s belly, he can’t stop himself from looking at it every chance he gets. 

How he manages to lose it is beyond him - but it arouses a panic like nothing he’s ever known. 

When he’s in the locker room after a game against Montreal, adrenaline still pumping through him to suppress the incoming ache of his body, he reaches into the pocket he knows he had stored the picture, only to come up short. He waits until the room has emptied, the boys trickling out annoyingly slow as his stress levels increase, before he gets on his hands and knees to look for it. 

He had it before practice earlier. He’d swiped tenderly at the curve of it’s little body as a calming practice, the picture grounding any nerves he had for the game later in the day. And after that, he had been too into his routine, and too surrounded by his unknowing teammates, to get it back out again. 

“Are you looking for something?”

He’s on all fours like a dog in the locker room when Poppy finds him, completely forgetting the two of them were going for dinner to talk about the next appointment. He turns to see her leaning against the open door, observing him with a quirked brow and a gaze that is a combination of amusement and accusation.

“I’m-,” He’s still a little out of breath from the game, and from darting around like a mad man in search of the small square of photo paper. He feels out of sorts in so many ways it’s a surprise he hasn’t blown up in some sort of catastrophic meltdown - hair still slick from his post-game shower, which he feels like he dressed too quickly after, the seams of his t-shirt twisting awkwardly around his elbows. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t want to stress her out. 

“You’re good?” Poppy asks, stepping a little further into the room, nose scrunching only slightly as she tries not to breathe too much in through it. Testing the limits of her dwindling morning sickness shouldn’t be subjected to the various smells of the locker room.

“Yup,” he gives a guilty smile, standing up from where he was crouched and dusting himself off. “Couldn’t be better.”

“Really?” She steps closer.

“Uh huh,” he stands firm.

“Not even if you had this back?” She holds the sonogram between two fingers and extends it out to him, and he practically charges over to close the distance to take it back and examine it closely. 

Monochrome. Peanut shape. Poppy’s name in the corner. 

“How did you get this?” He turns it to look at both sides, as if she would have written her name in sharpie on the back. “It isn’t yours?”

“No, mine is safely locked in my car where it can’t be dropped for the whole building to see.” She’s still smiling despite the condemnation, her head tilted and lips twisting with mirth as she takes in his flustered appearance. 

“Who saw it?” He winces in preparation for the answer, praying to whatever God is out there to please not let it be one of the brothers.

“Timo,” she tells him, thankfully deciding to put him out of his misery already instead of dragging it on. “He’s very excited.”

“Fuck,”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t he-,”

“He seems to be very into finding new ways to make you suffer, I think. I just bumped into him on his way out, he was really happy with himself.”

He and Timo have been fine ever since their blip back on his birthday, he had thought. Clearly not fine enough.

He’s in for it the next time Nico sees him, he thinks.

“He’s supposed to have my back.” Nico pouts as his thumb swipes at the picture, his lips slowly softening into a smile as the gesture calms him once more. “I’ve done so well not telling anyone, and if he just gave this back to me, you’d never have known he found out.”

“Oh, I’d have known, he can’t hold his waters to save his life,” Poppy scoffs, watching as Nico goes to grab his jacket and get his phone and keys. “Probably for the best he came straight to me or someone else would have noticed him getting giddy and we both know he would have blabbed.” 

“He’s a traitor.”

“He’s your best friend,” Poppy smiles as he frowns, thick eyebrows curving down until a little line forms between them, and she reaches to smooth it out from sheer instinct. “Now we both have someone who knows.”

“My entire family knows, Poppy,”

“Yeah, but do you don’t see them everyday, it’s different,” she shrugs, and when he realises she doesn’t actually mind it, the tension releases from his shoulders. “Plus, I’m actually conspiring to steal your parents so they’re our family now that I have the perfect in.”

“They’d go willingly, I’m not sure that’s stealing.”

“And now that Timo knows about little Cheeto, you have someone you can get excited with. The perfect distraction.”

“Cheeto?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it looks like a little Cheeto in there.” She steps straight in front of him, the picture between them, and she traces a pointed finger around the shape. His eyes follow the movement, their arms bumping, and he looks down just as she looks up at him.

“I’ve been calling it Peanut.”

Her lips twist. “That’s lame,” she nudges at his side, “We’re gonna have to work on your creativity before it comes. I can’t have you naming our baby something boring.”

Her eyes sparkle in amusement, and he likes the way his stomach flips at the mention of our baby.

God, he wants to kiss her - the lingering twist in his gut at her previous rejection be damned.

“I thought Peanut was cute.” He tucks the photo into his pocket and slings an arm around her shoulder as they make their way out, their steps syncing as they walk toward the exit - Poppy making no effort to shrug away.

“Cheeto’s cuter.”

“Fine, Cheeto it is.” He relents immediately, because he had realised something the second he and Poppy saw the little Peanut-Cheeto hybrid forming in her belly. 

He doesn’t need to move the goalposts or make efforts to convince her of anything. Acquiescing to her every whim is the least he can do for the girl who’s building their future. He can revert to his old ways, with the kind of easy conversation and familiarity that lay the foundation of something bigger. Something better.

As long as she keeps giving him moments like this, with soft, devoted smiles and tender glances that say more than a thousand words ever could, he’ll go at whatever pace she wants. 

Poppy

Poppy has convinced herself that there is an ever-evolving part of her brain that is actively praying on her downfall. 

It’s the only logical explanation for why on Earth she would ever keep a man like Nico at arms length, she thinks, because ever since she told him she was pregnant, he has been some sort of godsend, showing up for her in every possible way.

It had started with smoothies in the mornings - he would bring them to her everyday, or have them dropped off if he wasn’t around. Had tumbled then into getting lunch delivered to her office, always fine tuned to when she might be hungry, or what she might be hungry for - even when he was on the road and hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. It was followed by texts to cheer her up when she started to miss him a little, or when she was overwhelmed with emotions for whatever reason - she felt like he just knew her like the back of his hand.

It made it all feel so easy.

And he had been attentive to the newly acquired hormones without even being aware of it. The smallest ticks he has always had, the pushing back of his hair, the crooked smile that presses one side of his cheek up when he knows he’s being funny, every shift of his muscles when his arms fidget as he speaks, have all all managed to settle the bubbling in Poppy’s stomach that had her yearning for physical touch.

He had even been helping her in weird, subliminal ways. 

When his mother had told Poppy that while she was pregnant with Nico, she had movies playing in her head the whole night while she slept, she thought she was being hyperbolic.

But, God, had her dreams been intense. 

And it probably hadn’t helped that first night after she told him - after she had slept in his bed the night before, had used his shampoo in the shower despite him buying her her own, and had even spritzed his cologne on the sleeves of the hoody he had loaned to her - that she retired to her own bed wearing that same hoody and keeping her hair down for once through the night.

She was enabling herself at that point. Encouraging her own mind to dream of him by flooding her senses until it had no other choice. But the dream she had when she had slept over at his place was a lot nicer than the ones from before, and she wanted to try and replicate the circumstances.

He had been enabling her too, though - and sometimes she had thought he knew exactly what he was doing. 

It had started with their game at MetLife stadium - more specifically, those God-forsaken outfits he and the guys wore to arrive in. She had sworn when she’d first seen him in it that he’d chosen it specifically to be dream-fodder. She could foresee many restless nights tossing and turning in her sheets, visions worsening with the vivid mental bank of pictures she saved of him in that tank top, the chain she had gifted him slung from the neck, thick muscles and broad shoulders-

And that had only been from a picture.

She’d gone to the game with Nia, who had flashed her phone to Poppy with a quick quip of, “They look straight out of The Sopranos,” and it had been a tweet of the boys on the carpet.

She had only seen him at that point - the image burned into her retinas as she nodded and hummed along to whatever her best friend had been saying up until the point the team came out onto the ice.

And then he had scored within the first minute, and she had watched a stadium full of people erupt into mostly-celebration for the man who held her heart, who’s baby she was carrying in her belly, and her whole body had buzzed with pride.

She got to watch him thrive on the largest stage he’d ever played on, and she had started to feel weirdly possessive and uncharacteristically regretful.

He had tried to share some part of this with her when he’d asked her to come out for the family skate, and she had turned him down.

And it was with that regret that she decided to meet him after. She brought Nia for protection, flashing her staff pass to get the two of them to the designated family lounge at the stadium, where Nico’s dad and sister were waiting for him, too.

She got to introduce Nia to the two of them, that immediate circle of people being some of the only people in the world to know the true extent of her relationship with Nico, and so when they finally reunited, and he swept her up into his arms, taut muscles wrapping around her still vibrating frame, she let herself melt into him. Let herself bask in his touch for as long as she could withstand, pressing her face into his chest and circling her arms around his torso, holding out to hear the rampant thud of his heartbeat.

And he had been so happy that it felt contagious. Spread onto her like a lingering fever, that she didn’t actually want to shift. It remained for weeks, flooding into her bloodstream when she needed it the most.

When she became emotional out of nowhere, when she became fearful or stressed for no reason, she thought of him - of his unwavering support, of the ease in which he cared for her, cared about her, and she relied on that to get her through most days.

And most nights.

Dreaming of him in that tank top, or out of it.

Dreaming of him in her bed, on her couch, in her kitchen - every corner of her apartment tainted in the best possible way - and it ended up being the only thing keeping her resolve in tact.

In her dreams, she never held back. She never thought too much about things, just let pure intuition and desire take over. Instead of stepping back, instead of pressing that restrictive hand to his chest, she pulled, she gripped, she held on for dear life.

Because as long as she could have him in her dreams, she didn’t have to give in to him in person. She could maintain her insistence on taking things slow, on figuring things out in their own time, without all the intensity and pressure of rushed intimacy. She no longer had to overthink every interaction, able to take his word at face value, and lose herself in the familiarity of their teasing back and forth.

And in reality, when he flashed her one of those dimpled smiles, or let his darkened gaze linger on hers for so long it made her breath stutter, she didn’t feel like she was about to fall.

Not in a bad way, at least.

He just has an innate ability to make things easy for her. 

When she had her first scan, he could have made it hard on her. Could have let his nerves overshadow hers, could have asked a bunch of questions that scared the living crap out of her, but he had let her take the reins. He did the same with his parents - let her bask in their praise and adoration, never made her feel guilty or selfish for the way they kind of made that moment about her instead of him.

And, as they make the drive to her parent’s house over in Alpine, he does the same - distracting her with questions about them and their lives to fill the heavy silence - quelling her anxiety with lighthearted jokes and genuine interest in her family.

He asks her about her brother, who he had met briefly one time before in passing, but who she rarely sees - and she tells him about his family, his wife and their two boys, who are coming over from the West Coast for Easter and who he will meet when they get to the house.

He asks about her nephews, about her bond with them, and she gets to tell him that, despite her rocky relationship with her brother, his wife Kimberley often FaceTimes her with updates on the boys, and she’s managed to maintain some semblance of a connection through a phone screen with them.

He reluctantly asks about her mother, and Poppy ends up being the one to really delve into that minefield. 

Only, this time when she talks about it, there isn’t the same heaviness she had felt when they first proposed telling her - all those weeks ago back in Nico’s kitchen.

There’s trepidation, but there isn’t fear.

“She might not be horrific to be fair. She loves Easter. And Oli’s here with the kids so she can’t be as awful to me as usual if she still wants them to think she’s their gentle unassuming grandma.”

“And you’re gonna be on your best behaviour so she’ll stay in a good mood, right? Play along so she lowers her guard?” he asks, sending her a sidewards glance.

“Ha, you wish!” Poppy chuckles, “I have a whole list of sickly sweet nicknames in my head for you that are gonna drive her up the wall. She hates that lovey-dovey stuff. You can’t take my one source of fun from me, Nico.”

“Poppy, that isn’t gonna help me win her over.”

“That ship sailed a long time ago, baby,” she makes a mocking kissy face at him, and something fizzes in her gut at the flush that swarms up his neck.

“Fine, what about your dad, how do I win him over?” Nico glances quickly over to Poppy, one hand in control of the wheel and the other drumming slightly on his lap in time to the low hum of music playing in the car. “Is he a hockey guy?”

“God no,” she scoffs, her body angled toward his, legs bent so her knees are toward the centre console and she can watch him as he drives, looking out the window for an extended period still making her feel a little sick. “No offence.”

“I want to say none taken,” she likes that she can see the indent of his dimples still from this angle.

“Not a hockey family,” she sighs. “Do you know anything about football?”

“I know a lot about actual football.” Another quick glance over gives her a quick glimpse of the flash of amusement in his dark eyes, warmth and familiarity bubbling in her stomach.

“What does that even mean?”

“Soccer, Poppy.” He corrects, that almost-instinctual sour face he pulls whenever the word doesn’t quite taste right coming from his mouth tugs at his brows. 

“Absolutely not,” she cautions him, straightening in her seat, “He has this stupid story about how Ronaldo once stole his table at his favourite restaurant in Turin, and I don’t want to have to hear it again. I’m not even sure it was actually him, but either way, he hates soccer.”

“Noted.” Nico chuckles.

“Golf?”

“I like it, I’m not the best, though.”

“Do you know enough to hold a conversation?”

“Does that not risk him wanting to play?”

Poppy reaches toward the screen in the middle, tapping away the warning that comes up on the navigation for impending road works, figuring the more delays they can encounter, the merrier - even though they’re probably not even 10 minutes away by now.

Maybe all the roads can just close down? She and Nico can do a swift u-turn and haul ass back to Jersey City. Where’s the harm in just texting her mom the news? She’ll get a lecture either way, she thinks.

“He likes winning, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad.” She shrugs, her head pressing sideways into the headrest as she again focuses on his profile. 

“What about tennis?”

“Ooh, perfect,” she cheers, “He loves Federer!”

“Really?” Nico turns, excitement in his eyes and a genuine smile twisting at his lips. 

“Yeah!” She responds, “I think so!” And when she actually does think about it, she realises she isn’t sure. “He goes to the Open in Queens every year, I can’t actually remember if he roots for anyone.”

“Real helpful, Poppy,” 

“You’re asking me how to impress my parents like I’ve ever even done it,” she scoffs, liking the way he shakes his head as if he’s trying his best not to find her funny. 

It’s helping. He’s helping.

Just like he had when she had been nervous to tell his parents - and that had turned out okay. He’d made her feel comfortable and supported, and even just doing this - driving her home, subjecting himself to the horrors of a Jensen family dinner and heeding none of the warnings she tried to give him - made her feel even the slightest bit better.

“My dad isn’t as hard as my mom, don’t worry about it.”

“I want him to like me.”

“My dad doesn’t really like people. He likes money and things like boats and cars,” she sighs, eyes following the movement of his other hand settling on the wheel, the flex of his fingers as he splays and stretches them out, the whitening of his knuckles as he tightens his grip back up, the glint that reflects from his wrist, “Ooh, and watches! You’re a watch guy!”

“I’d like to think there’s more to me than just being a watch guy,” he scoffs, and when she rolls her eyes in response, the view out of the window catches her eye, and that impending sense of doom fills the car once again. 

She could make the rest of the drive with her eyes closed. Just a few more turns until they make it to the gate, swirl up the winding driveway and arrive in the courtyard of her parents’ home, the grandeur of it all swallowing her up into a deep, vacuous pit of ignorance and facade.

Nico must notice the stiffening of her spine or the clench of her jaw, because she’s shocked back into the moment with the clasp of his hand around hers. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Mohn,” he reassures, but where Poppy would usually find his optimism endearing, this time it makes her feel worse.

He doesn’t know the half of it. 

He’s never had a reason to believe it wouldn’t be okay.

It had been for him.

His parents had been accepting, had welcomed Poppy with open arms and warm embraces, and God, was she thankful for that - but knowing he’s about to enter into this with blissful ignorance encompasses her with a sense of dread.

“Could you promise me something before we get there?” She asks, shuffling completely to face him in the seat, knees knocking against the centre console and her free hand falling atop where their others are intertwined. 

“If you’re gonna ask me to take the seat by your mother at dinner, then no,” he chuckles, and when he glances out the corner of his eye, and notices her demeanour, he squeezes her hand consolingly. “Sorry, go on,”

“I really don’t want you to think less of me when you see where I came from,” she chews nervously at the inside of her cheek as she watches him consider her words - watches the scrunch of his face, the furrow of his brow, the downturn of his lips. “Like, I know you’ve met my mom, and I know you think she’s scary, but you don’t know the full extent of it. I really don’t think this is gonna go too well, and you’re gonna see some pretty ugly stuff in there, and sometimes I don’t like who I am when I’m here so I need you to promise me that whatever happens, you won’t run afterwards.”

“I won’t run, Poppy,” he promises, relaying his sincerity in the soft swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand, and giving it one last squeeze before he adds, “I have a car. I’ll drive.”

And he’s lucky he’s driving, she thinks, because she throws his own hand back at him, frowning purposely and dramatically to mask a smile as he gives a hearty laugh, the vibrations of which settle deep in her bones, outweighing the anxiety that had been riddled in them before.

It’s enough that when they park up, and he helps her out onto the gravel while he gets their overnight bags from the trunk, she isn’t overcome with dread.

When he looks up at the overwhelming size of her family home, and his eyes widen and his jaw drops, she doesn’t fear judgement - not from him, at least. 

And once their bags are discarded by the stairs, and she takes his hand to lead him through the house and out to the sprawling garden she knows her parents and her brother’s family are gathered in, she doesn’t feel the need to turn and bolt back out the door.

Their hands stay clasped together as they greet her family. Her brother’s wife, Kimberley, being the first to come over.

She introduces Nico as her boyfriend, and it rolls off the tongue a lot easier than anticipated, the slight reassuring squeeze his hand gives hers easing any guilt she might start to feel over technically lying straight to her sister-in-law’s face. 

Her brother is next, their boys in tow, and then her father.

Her mother keeps a measured distance, narrowed eyes focused on the point where Nico and Poppy are connected, and when she makes her way over, her greeting is cold.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing company.”

“I told dad,” Poppy shrugs, knowing her father would never have passed the message on if she called him during his daily newspaper time. He barely ever listened to her, his nose buried in the business section, and would just hum and grunt in response. “You remember Nico, right?”

“I don’t recall the two of you being together,” she frowns, again glancing down at their intertwined hands.

And, God bless Nico, Poppy thinks, as the poor, misguided soul tries to relay some kind of heartwarming sentiment to Priscilla, with, “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now,”

“Seeing each other,” she scoffs, “I see my gardener every day, yet I’m not out here skipping around holding hands like children.”

“Maybe you should hold someone’s hand, a little physical touch and you might lose the stick up your-,”

“You have a beautiful home,” Nico squeezes Poppy’s hand once more, this time more like a warning. “Poppy never told me how magnificent it was.”

“Yeah, well, Poppy only seems to think she should feel shame about her home life. She doesn’t understand the amount of work or effort it takes to maintain something like this.”

“Oh, I-,”

“Leave it, babe,” Poppy sighs, tugging on Nico’s hand as she tells her mother, “We’re gonna get something to drink.”

And as she pulls him to safety, toward a table where pitchers of lemonade and water sit, he rolls his shoulders and lets out a huff.

“Has she ever tried leading with hello?”

“My mother doesn’t do niceties, Nico.”

And as the day winds on, Priscilla Jensen does little to prove that theory wrong.

Poppy thinks she’s going out of her way to make Nico feel like an inconvenience - and while she knows she had been childish in not telling her mom directly about his attendance, she had done so with the knowledge that there was always more than enough to go around in the Jensen house - so when she makes little effort to accommodate his presence, Poppy amps up her own efforts to get on her mother’s last nerve.

When they all sit around the table outside for a light lunch, and there isn’t enough seats for everybody, Poppy takes one for the team and perches herself on the arm of Nico’s chair, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other feeding him bites of the sandwich they’re sharing because his hand had taken up residence on her waist.

Whenever anyone has a story to tell, an anecdote or a recap of recent events, Poppy uses the time to insert little quips about Nico. About his experiences travelling, about his life, or about his successes in his career - giving the family who only care about themselves and their own reputation no other option but to learn about him. When her dad tells stories of his recent trip to Prague, Poppy chimes in with “Nico and the team will be playing out there in October, isn’t that right, babe?” And when Kimberley and Oli speak about taking their kids skiing in the Alps, Poppy suggests that Nico give them recommendations.

When her mother demands her to help with another round of drinks, and has only gathered enough glasses for the guests she had originally accounted for, Poppy makes a point of gathering one more. 

And when the festivities start, she recruits Nico in helping her nephews find all the eggs in the hunt - figuring if she has any chances of charming anyone, it would be the boys. And what would annoy her mom more than her grandchildren worshipping the ground Nico walks on?

Nothing.

As little effort as annoying Priscilla Jensen takes, it ends up exhausting Poppy quicker than she had anticipated, and so she ends up folding into Nico’s side while he tries his best to keep up in conversation with her dad and brother. It’s where she stays for almost an hour, still perched on the arm of his chair despite the seats that have since freed up, until her legs start to get restless.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom,” she whispers to him, their noses bumping when he turns his head and whispers pleadingly in response for her to be quick.

She travels through the halls with a pep in her step, having enjoyed her afternoon grinding her mom’s gears, and even though she knows winding her up isn’t going to pay off too well for her in the long run, the short run victories are worth it for the time being - alleviating the bubbling panic in her gut, even if just temporarily. If it wasn’t for her pettiness, all she’d have to think about is her nerves around telling the big news - and she’d soon get swallowed whole by her mom’s little digs.

The panic fizzes up a little when she exits the bathroom to find her mother waiting outside, and her breath catches in her lungs at the shock of her lurking there like the grim reaper.

“Jesus, Mom, you can’t creep up on people like that, especially outside the bathroom, it isn’t appropriate.”

“Oh, lay off the theatrics for a day in your life, Poppy, I didn’t raise you to be this dramatic.”

“Are you sure about that? I can go ask the gardener considering how close the two of you are-,”

“Don’t get clever with me,” she narrows her eyes at her daughter, “You’re not as cute as you think you are, and the more games you play trying to rile me up, the more your little friend will see that. It’s unbecoming to be so childish, dear.”

“It’s also unbecoming to be such a bad host. If the ladies at your luncheons could see you now, they’d throw you out on the streets, Mom.”

“I’m not entertaining your immaturity any longer, you get your fun in while it lasts, I’m sure by the time you go home tomorrow your friend will see you for what you are,”

“He’s my boyfriend-,”

“And please go easy on the chocolate, the egg hunt is for the children, Poppy,” her mom chides, a judgemental roll of her eyes and a bobble-head like shake of her head causing Poppy’s fists to clench by her sides.

“I’m your child, am I not?” She asks, petulantly.

“You’re a grown woman who might want to start thinking about how hard it’s going to be to shift that little pouch you’re getting now that you’re older.” She sneers back, a pointed finger gesturing to her daughter’s torso. “Don’t think I didn’t notice when you were reaching for those glasses in the kitchen, before.”

“Pouch?”

“The extra belly you have going on from no doubt eating a bunch of processed garbage at that circus you call a workplace, honey. I’m telling you, there will come a point that it doesn’t just go away if you skip a couple lunches.”

It’s just like her mother to strike low when she’s losing an argument.

And where Poppy would usually be offended - disgusted, even - at her need to comment on even the slightest changes in her body, or how she can even find ways to slip a subtle dig about her job into a completely unrelated conversation, she bites her tongue. The snappy response fizzles back into her throat as she waits for her mom to continue on her way back to the festivities before she turns on her heels and steps back down the hallway in search of the mirror at the end.

Extra belly?

She lifts her sweater and turns where she stands, and, sure enough, there’s an ever-so-slight roundness to the bottom of her stomach that hadn’t been there last week.

The tension seeps out of her body as she presses her hand there,, cups the shape with curved fingers and strokes at the skin with her thumb.

“Hi, baby,” she whispers, biting back a beaming smile - and before she can lose herself in the moment, and someone else catches her in the hall looking like a crazy person, she drops the fabric back over her torso and sets off in search of Nico.

She finds him back out in the garden, standing beside her dad and looking as uncomfortable as ever, arms folded across his chest as he watches Oliver’s boys fight over a little egg they both found at the same time. 

“So,” she hears him speak after clearing his throat, “Do you like golf?”

“Hey, babe,” she approaches from the side, looping her hand through the crook of his arm and folding into his side. “I need to show you something,” she hums, and turns to her dad, “I’m just gonna borrow him for a second, we’ll be right back,”

“Don’t rush on my account,” he scoffs, and, thankfully for him, she again can’t find it within her to care about how rude he’s being. 

She tugs at Nico’s arm until it uncrosses with his other, and slips her hand into his, intertwining their fingers and pulling until he stumbles to follow. She guides him back through the house, and into the closest bathroom she can find, shutting and locking the door behind the two of them.

“I don’t think locking us away in a bathroom is gonna give your parents the best impression of me, Poppy,” he sighs, letting her push at him with two hands on his firm chest until he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

“Like I said earlier, we’re past the point of no return with those two,” she sighs, the disappointment only lasting a second before she remembers why she lured him into the room in the first place. “Look!”

She lifts her sweater, angling her body how she had before and biting her lip as she awaits his reaction. 

“Is this an attempt to seduce me?”

“What? No!” She tries not to succumb to the heat filling her head. “You think I’d shove you on a toilet to seduce you?”

“Depends how desperate you were, I suppose.”

“Is that what works for you? A girl flashing you her stomach?”

The banter is nostalgic and familiar, and she feels more at home in the small guest bathroom with him than in the rest of the house, entirely.

He shrugs with a smirk, and gives one of those trailing, darkened looks down her figure as he says, “Depends on the girl.”

“Shut up,” she scoffs, ignoring his chuckles as she looks down at her belly and caresses it as she had to herself in the mirror, highlighting the swelling with her fingers. “I have a little pouch!”

“Like a kangaroo?”

“No, like the woman growing your offspring inside her.”

He reaches a hand out and presses it beside hers on her stomach, his palm cupping the roundness of it, and Poppy finds herself holding her breath in anticipation.

His touch is gentle, and his dark eyes roam the expanse of her skin, assessing the slight change there, committing it to memory before that lingering smirk melts into a soft smile.

“Hey, Peanut.” he hums, pulling her closer with another hand at her waist, and she steadies herself with her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curl around the back of his neck, scratching slightly at the base of his skull, and his clutch at the dip of her hip while he runs the tip of a finger over the beginning of a bump. 

“Cheeto,” she corrects him.

“Sorry, Cheeto.” His laugh is breathy and his voice is low, “Getting big in there, huh?”

“As big as a fig,” she beams with pride, heart palpitating when he looks up at her, chocolate eyes gleaming and lips stretched into a smile.

“A fig?”

“Yeah,” she pushes down the memory of the last time he looked up at her from that angle, and makes a fig sized circle with her fingers and holds it to him. He lifts his own fingers to copy it before moving it back down to her belly and resting it there for comparison, features flushed with awe as he pictures what it would look like in there.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

His touch lingers for a good minute as he watches her belly and she watches him, taking slow, measured breaths to quell the rampant beating of her heart. 

Her anxiety starts to dwindle somewhat, and a thought settles within her that no matter what else happens while they’re here, she’ll always have this. 

She’ll always have him.

Poppy has never wanted to hurt someone as much as she wants to hurt her brother right now. 

She could honestly leap over the dining table and throttle him - but then again, she should have been fine tuned to the way he and her father had been talking all day, the two of them never being able to go a full five minutes without talking business.

“What do you mean Rich Horowitz got in before you?”

She wishes with all her might she didn’t come from a family where they had mortal enemies, but here she is, listening to how her brother has fumbled one of the biggest investment opportunities of his life to her dad’s biggest opponent. Losing out on millions of dollars that is now going straight to Rich Horowitz's pockets.

“He sniped me, Dad,” Oli all but whines from his place at the bottom of the table, Kimberley having disappeared a while back to put the kids to bed - something he clearly has no interest in helping with. 

If she thinks he’s put her in a bad mood, when she looks over to her dad, she thinks he’s turning purple.

“And how on Earth did you let that happen?!”

“I didn’t let it happen,” Oli scoffs, “He was eavesdropping like a rat at the country club and I-,”

“Stop talking.” Philip snaps, pointing his knife down the table at his son, “This is your problem, you don’t know when to shut up. Why were you talking private business for the whole world to hear at the club?”

“Because it was a business trip? That’s what we do, get a few holes in and share investment tips-,”

“Maybe next time you can ask to share some brain cells.” He growls as Kimberley returns, meekly sitting beside Oliver and immediately taking a big gulp of her wine. 

Poppy tries to focus on her breathing, tries to focus on the calming presence of Nico beside her, their chairs moved so close together that their thighs touch, and he helps her feel warm all over.

She can do this. Just wait for her dad’s anger to pass and bring up her own life. 

Poppy’s father gives a disapproving huff, and his fork hits his plate with a loud clatter as if the conversation has put him off his food entirely. “What about you, Poppy? Any horrific news that you’d like to share with the table? I know how the two of you like to try to one-up each other.”

See, she tells herself, that hadn’t taken long at all. 

“Oh, uhm,” her chest feels tight, cold even, like she’s been out in the crisp air a little too long and needs a hot drink to settle herself back in, “Actually-,”

“Have you joined the Church of Scientology? Pledged your inheritance away to some fruitless non-profit? Have you gone and got yourself a heinous lower back tattoo?”

“Philip, please,” her mother scoffs, as if the tattoo is the worst option in the list. “Let’s move on, Kimberley, how is James getting on in the first grade?”

“Oh, well, he-,"

And only because the interruption and swift change in subject grates at Poppy, she straightens up in her seat, a hardened glare directed towards her mother, and she blurts out before she can think twice about it, “I’m pregnant.”

The way her mother turns her attention back to her is slow. She blinks, as if she’s registering what was said, and swivels in her seat to narrow her eyes back at Poppy.

“Ha!” Oliver pipes up from further down the table before their mom has a chance to react. “That’s hilarious.”

“No it isn’t.” Priscilla snaps, “It is not funny in the slightest.”

“Why would it be hilarious, Oliver?” She frowns over at her brother, trying to tell her mind to succumb to the way Nico’s hand settles above her knee to calm her, but nothing at this point will work.

“You as a mother? You can barely take care of yourself, you don’t know the first thing about being a parent.”

“Well I figured if you could have a go at it, anyone could.”

The two of them are both airing grievances to a party that isn’t listening, isn’t technically even fighting back, just firing bullets at one another with little regard for where they might ricochet.

“See. You’re a child.”

“And you’re a loser. You have everything in your life handed to you and you still fuck it all up.”

“And what, you’re going to have a baby with him?” He points towards Nico with the edge of his fork, immediately getting her back up. “With some jacked up meathead who slaps plastic around with a stick for a living?”

Nico’s grip tightens on her flesh, and while her heart tells her he’s trying to reassure her, trying to stop her from sinking to his level or taking the bait, her head tells her otherwise. Her mind says he’s offended, he’s hurt, and she can’t go another second without at least trying to defend his honour.

Defend the perfect man who’s been by her side all day - has been by her side since the second he found out. Who brings her smoothies every morning like his father brought his mother when she was pregnant, who looks up all the vitamins she needs and makes sure she’s fully stocked up, who holds her hand and supports her in anything and everything she does.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” she sneers, feeling the pressure of his hand when she starts to stand. “Just because you’re a fuck up and an embarrassment to your family, doesn’t mean you get to point the finger at my life. Nico is a great partner, and he’s going to be an even better dad, because he has a big heart and a sense of fucking direction and dignity, something you wouldn’t know if it came and slapped you in the face-,” 

“Mohn,” Nico tries to ground her, delicate fingers stroking at the arm attached to her now pointed fingers, but it’s no use.

“Which, if you say one more thing about him again, I’ll slap you in the face. You have no right to pass judgement on my life or the people in it.”

“Poppy, stop it!” Her mother slams her own cutlery down onto the table, the glasses shaking and the liquid within them sloshing around at the intensity. “There’s no need to threaten your brother over something that isn’t even real. You should apologise for causing such a scene!”

Poppy doesn’t think that even dignifies a response, so instead of biting back, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out her copy of their scan and sliding it across the table.

There is a slow, prolonged silence that lingers between everyone at the table, and Poppy can see her dad shifting uncomfortable out of the corner of her eye, can feel Nico’s gentle touch on her wrist, but all she can focus on is her mom’s reaction. 

Her lip curls as she eyes the square of paper on the table, and she doesn’t even reach to pick it up for a closer look.

“You are unbelievable.”

There’s a small part of Poppy that withers and dies in an instant at the tone in which that sentence had been uttered. A minuscule scrap of dwindling hope that maybe she would have been happy. Maybe her mom would have overlooked the outdated ideals that she has tried for so long to impose on the rest of the family and just be happy for her daughter.

But she should have known better.

“You aren’t married, Poppy, how many times have I drilled into you how important it is that these kind of things are done right?” She shoulders the blow, the implication that anything about this is wrong incessantly plucking at her nerve. “Could you be any more belligerent? Are you doing this just to spite me?”

“To spite you?” Poppy scoffs, “Yeah, I’m changing the entire course of my life and future because I thought it would be funny to annoy you. My God you’re so narrow minded-,”

“You watch your tone with me when we have guests, Poppy.” Her voice is raised as she scolds her daughter, and it takes Poppy back through the years - being lectured about her grades, about her friends, her clothes, her weight, her career. Nothing she has ever done has appeased her. Even giving her another grandchild, bringing life into the world and trying to prove herself - it’s never enough.

“He’s my guest! He’s mine.” She doesn’t care that it’s petulantly possessive. She’s had enough. She isn’t going to let her mom use Nico of all people as a tool to silence or embarrass her. “And he’s had to stand around all day and listen to you all drop petty little digs while he tries his best to impress you! But you’re all so ignorant and rude, and none of you have even attempted to get to know a single thing about him! I don’t know why I even bothered bringing him here, or sharing what is supposed to be the greatest news of my life with you guys, because all any of you do is judge and shame people, and I won’t let you do that to us.

“We’re having this baby, and we might not be married, we might not ever even get married, but we make each other happy, and we love each other, and I couldn’t care less about how it looks to anybody else.”

She snatches the photo from the table, and turns to her brother with a pointed finger, unable to help herself before she spits, “And hockey pucks are made out of rubber, you fucking idiot.”

Her mother scoffs at the curse, but Poppy can’t find it in her to care as she storms out, ignoring the footsteps that follow as she stomps through the house towards her bedroom. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Poppy,” Priscilla calls out after her, quickening her steps to catch up before the inevitably infamous slamming of her bedroom door occurs. “I won’t have you behaving like this under my roof.”

“That’s fine, Nico and I are going to leave.”

“You’re doing little to disprove the fact that you’re immature, reacting like this,”

“You think I’m reacting poorly?” She stops in her tracks in the hallway, turning to face her mother with a heated glare. “Why do I always have to prove something to you in the first place? You couldn’t just support me, just this once? Be happy for me? You don’t think I need my mom right now to tell me that everything is going to be okay?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being heartless and cruel.” She hates that she’s about to cry. Resents the tears that well on her lash line or the lump that forms at the back of her throat. “You know how long Nico and I have known each other, how close we are, how could you possibly say that what we’re doing is wrong?”

“You went on a date with someone else 2 months ago, Poppy! I’m not as stupid as you think I am, you can’t hide your mistakes and lie to me like some teenager anymore!”

“I’m not lying-,”

“You’re being irresponsible, and you can’t seriously stand there and try to convince me otherwise. Having a baby with a man you’ve barely even been dating for five minutes, who you don’t live with, who travels here, there and everywhere for work and can’t support you-,”

“You don’t know him.” Poppy snarls, “You’ve made absolutely no effort to get to know him. Not today, and not in the years that you’ve known he was in my life, so you don’t get to tell me what kind of man he is, or what kind of partner he’s going to be for me in this. And I don’t need to convince you of anything. If you can’t be happy for us, then you won’t be involved.”

And with that, she marches into her bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage, her breathing heavy as she paces the floor by her bed.

She had always known it would end up like this - in some almighty, entirely unnecessary bust up - but there could never have been enough preparing herself for just how much it hurts.

Her mother had berated her, her brother had bullied and belittled her, and her dad had sat there in a detached silence that probably was worse than saying anything in the first place. None of them were ever going to have her back, or ever going to be in her corner, and she should have known better - should have known from an entire lifetime of the same thing happening for all the other decisions she ever made for herself.

There had been a fight around her choice of college, her choice of career, her choice of living arrangements. Why would this have been any different?

So, as she finds herself stuck in the constant loop of condemnation and judgement, she starts to feel it manifest itself in her surroundings. In the walls of her bedroom she was never allowed to decorate, in the closet full of clothes she was never allowed to choose for herself, in the house full of people who pretended to care but didn’t, not really.

Except for Nico, who finds her repacking her overnight bag and stuffing it with a bunch of other things she doesn’t want to have to return for.

He watches silently as she whizzes around, perches himself on the edge of her bed, beside the bag, and waits for her to tire herself out a little before he asks, “Is there any chance that you’re adopted?”

She scoffs, stopping in front of him and running a frustrated hand through her hair in an attempt to calm herself down. “Nice try. Flattery won’t really help right now, Nico.” 

He reaches out to take her hand, tugging until she steps closer, and he parts his legs to accommodate for her body. “Are you okay?”

“We need to leave. I can’t sleep in a house with them all here, their rotten energy is gonna seep through the walls and suffocate me. I can’t expose Cheeto to that.”

“Poppy,” he chuckles, breathily, a soft and reassuring smile remaining on his lips as he looks up at her, “I don’t want you getting worked up over nothing-,”

“It isn’t nothing.” She frowns. “What my brother said about you, it was disrespectful and rude, I don’t like that he talked about you like that, he’s such a dick,” she groans, heat rising up her neck in morbid embarrassment at her family’s behaviour. “Calling you a meathead? And he says I’m the childish one?”

“I’ve been called much worse, Mohn, trust me.”

“Yeah, well, none of it is true.” She steps a little closer, her knee knocking against his thigh, “He wishes he had even an iota of your emotional intelligence, but his head is stuck so far up his own ass that his disgusting hair sticks out of his nostrils.” Nico smiles wider, and she reaches to cup his cheeks, hoping to pass her sincerity through the touch. “I think the world of you, Nico, you know that, right? There isn’t another man on the planet I’d rather have this baby with.”

“Of course I know that,” he tilts his head in her hands, smiling teasingly as he reminds her, “I’m yours, remember? I don’t care what anybody else thinks, it’s you and me, yeah?”

She nods, heart warming at the earnestness in his gaze. 

“The unmarried mommy and the meathead. We should get t-shirts made.”

She swats at his shoulder, snorting out a giggling laugh that clouds the corners of her eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“It is.” He affirms with another nod, placing his hands on either sides of her hips to hold her in front of him. “He was wrong about you too, you know. You were ready to drop gloves for both of us.” His palm caresses the slight swelling of her baby - the beginnings of her pouch, “You’re protective of the people you love, and you’re loyal, and you care. Our baby couldn’t be more lucky to have you as their mommy.”

Before the tears that line her eyes can fall, she scrunches them shut - and with darkened vision and a will to clear her mind of the million racing thoughts, she leans forward and kisses him.

It isn’t the passionate, all-consuming kiss like they had shared before. It isn’t steamy, isn’t sloppy or rushed. It’s gentle. It’s familiar. It’s brief, but intimate and impactful all the same, and he juts his chin until his lips press firmly into the touch of hers.

And when they part of equal volition, her eyes flutter open slowly to his doing the same.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair,” she breathes into the small space between them, “I shouldn’t just plant one on you when I told you that we shouldn’t-,”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, voice slightly hoarse. “You can plant one on me any time.”

She breaks into a slow smile, one that ends up so big and so bright that her jaw aches slightly, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, collapsing into a hug where she squeezes around him. He holds her back, hands rubbing up and down her sides until he can feel her relax and melt into his touch.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” He whispers into the side of her head. “In the middle of an argument?”

“It isn’t gonna get resolved, there’s no point waiting around,” she sighs, pulling back a little so that she can see him again. “Plus, we’re gonna need to go looking for a Drive-Thru or something, I’m starving.”

“What are you hungry for?”

“I’ll know when I see it.”

“Poppy,” he chuckles, standing as soon as she steps back and reaching for the bag she had packed. “You’re gonna pass out as soon as we get to the bottom of the driveway.”

“Am not,” she pouts, the two of them making their way towards her bedroom door. “I’m so amped up right now, I could take on a bear. I won’t be sleeping all night.”

Poppy wakes with the shutting off of the car, the soft hum of the engine beneath her ceasing the vibrations that had lulled her to sleep in the first place, and she blinks away her confusion to look at Nico across the centre console.

He’s leaning against his seat, angling his body to face her directly, and he smiles softly as her eyes focus on his.

“We drove past that bear you wanted to fight about half an hour ago.”

“You should have woke me,” she croaks, breaking eye contact to look past him out the driver’s side window. “This isn’t a Drive-Thru.”

“No, I thought you might have worked up a bigger appetite in the big Jensen family smackdown.”

“Hilarious,” she yawns, arching her back to stretch it out as she leans toward the windshield, getting a better look at where they are. “Is this Rosie’s?”

Rosie’s diner had always been a hotspot for the two of them whenever he drove her home from The Rock, slotted just by Lincoln Park, and perfect for a post-game catch up late into the night, Poppy and Nico had spent one too many evenings ignoring the passing of time in a corner booth, a basket of fries between them and a thousand secrets shared.

She hasn’t been back here in a while.

“You’ve been eating sweet stuff all day, figured you’d be alright with pancakes.”

“You’re good at that, huh?” She smiles, “Knowing what I want?”

“I’m great at it.” He brags, unclipping his seat belt. “Wait here, I’m gonna check if the kitchen’s open.”

And he’s gone before she has a chance to question him. Why wouldn’t it be open? It’s a late night diner.

The car is too warm for her to care though - a cosy kind of heat, that almost has her lulling her head back into slumber before the car door is yanked back open beside her.

“So I kind of wanted to surprise you,” Nico says, slight urgency in his tone as he reaches over her lap to unclip her belt, “But I realised just now that I don’t want you to feel like I was blindsiding you with this.”

“With what?” She shuffles until her legs hang out of the car, looking up at him.

“I know that you kind of expected things not to go well with your family, but I also know you, and that you probably hoped there would at least be one of them that was happy for you.”

“Your family was happy for me,” she shrugs, trying to ignore the pang of longing. It has to be enough, she thinks, otherwise the hurt she’s feeling will just snowball into something worse. 

“Well you deserve more. And I happen to know a few more people in your family who might give you the reaction you’re looking for,”

“My cousin?”

“Where would I have found your cousin?”

“That’s my only other family?”

“No it isn’t,” he chuckles, extending a hand to help her out of the car and tucking her into his side when she’s stood on the sidewalk. He nudges the door closed behind her and locks it with the key in his pocket, guiding her towards Rosie’s with an arm around her shoulder. “Cheeto has a whole bunch of uncles who you’re not gonna be able to hide that little pouch from for much longer.”

“The guys are here?” She gasps, her face lighting up as she angles it to look up at him and stops in her tracks. “We’re gonna tell them?”

“Only if you want to.”

She nods, smiling so big she’s about to bare teeth, and he takes her hand to pull her toward the entrance.

“There she is!” Jack exclaims when the two of them make it into the diner, standing from his spot in one of the booths and extending his arms out in a boisterous greeting.

Nico has somehow managed to round up a good chunk of the guys, the diner otherwise empty as they take up two booths, with a few of them standing between. There’s Jack and Luke, Timo, Johnny, Dawson, Holtzy, Jesper, Nemo, Jonas and Bass, and Poppy doesn’t even feel intimidated by the rowdy bunch as she and Nico make their way over. 

She feels comfortable, like she should have felt around her actual family, at ease and somewhat excited.

“Thank God, Luke was getting hangry, we told him he had to wait until you guys got here to order.”

“Luke, it’s past 10pm, how can you be hungry at this time?” Poppy questions, standing beside Nico once they get over to the booths. She at least had a valid excuse - growing human life within her and being neglected by her own mother’s portion sizes at family dinner.

“This is prime snack time, Poppy, I usually have a grilled cheese before bed.”

“You’re not supposed to eat cheese before you sleep, Luke, it gives you nightmares.”

“Wow, okay, mom, did you call us out here just to impart your almighty cheese wisdom?”

“Cut it out,” Timo reaches over to smack Luke lightly upside the head, sending Poppy a proud, encouraging smile as she just chuckles in response. 

“I called you all out,” Nico puffs his chest a little, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself, “We have something we want to tell you guys.”

“Can you tell us after we order? I’m starving,” and when Luke ducks out of the way from Timo’s extended arm, Jack reaches across the table and swats him, himself. “Oh, come on, we all know they’re just gonna tell us they’re finally together! They can do that once I’ve got a burger or something.”

“That isn’t what we want to tell you,” Nico rolls his eyes affectionately, pulling Poppy into his side for comfort, where her lips twist in amusement at the scene before her.

“You’re not together?” Jack frowns, looking between them. 

“We’re figuring it out-,” Poppy shrugs, at the same time Nico responds.

“We’re working on it.” 

“Jesus,” Luke mutters, shielding himself from the onslaught of hands that reach out to smack his head. “Why are you all hitting me? They’re the ones who called us out here in the dead of night to tell us something we’ve all known for months. Next thing Dougie will be calling a press conference to tell the world he’s ginger. I don’t see anyone smacking either of them upside the head.”

“Well we can’t hit Schao ‘cause he’s our captain,” Jack explains.

“And you can’t hit me ‘cause I’m-,”

“A girl, yeah whatever,” Luke huffs.

“Actually, you can’t hit me ‘cause I’m pregnant.” She gives a smug smile, reaching into her pocket for the now-worn scan picture.

“And I’d hit you back.” Nico scowls playfully, watching their jaws drop in turn like a Mexican wave.

The guys all shoot up from their seats in unison, scrambling out of the booths to swarm the two of them, crowding around to get a look at the picture, a chorus of questions shouting out that fill the diner with a rambunctious echo.

The only thing Poppy can make out is Jack’s cries of Baby Schao, Timo’s bragging of I knew first and John and Nate’s childish singing of Poppy and Nico sitting in a tree. 

She feels her heart swell to four times its regular size.

She feels giddy, and proud, and loved.

“Alright,” Nico calls from beside her, bringing the rowdy bunch of men to silence, “Let her sit, then you can bombard her with your questions.”

She slides in a booth between the two brothers, and Nico slides in across from her between Timo and Jesper. The rest of the guys lean over from the booths at either side, leaving a couple of them standing in the aisle beside the table.

And as she looks over at Nico through teary eyes from her space across the booth, a smile so big it aches carved into her cheeks, their calves tangling under the table, the sonogram of their baby resting between them on the top, and surrounded by their found-family, she feels a kind of happiness she doesn’t think she ever has before.

He had assured her earlier that she could plant one on him any time, and she thinks that she might just have to start taking him up on that. 

Next Chapter

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

[bts-apocalypse-au]

Jimin's P.O.V 🐥 1st May

It's been three weeks since Jin (we're on a first-name basis now) and I first ran here with his class, fleeing the rabid wolves. Things at the zoo are rather prosperous. Jin continues to teach the children using the limited academic resources that the zoo provides, of late most of the lessons have been animal-related but it can't be helped and it's far better than nothing.

Taehyung is friendly but not very social. he's never cold and he's always kind to the children but it almost seems like he feels alienated from us, I suppose it's natural seeing as we're all virtual strangers to each other. At any rate, he's doing amazing work rehabilitating the hurt animals and spends most of his time with them, especially the tigers. I'm of course no animal specialist but I use my surgical skills to help however I can, and I feel as though our friendship is making progress.

When the children are down for their naps and the animals have been adequately tended to the three of us strategise. We've all agreed that it's best for us, because of the large size and young age of most people in our group, to stay here and await rescue instead of trying to seek out help and risk another attack. Sometimes Taehyung makes it sound like he wants to stay here forever, and sometimes I look around and I can't help agreeing with him.

At night the questions eat at all of us.

What has become of our city?

How did this happen?

Will we ever make it out?

Are we the only ones here anymore?

And the children, their parents left them. Who will care for them?

Is the whole world like this now?

And when it all becomes too much I close my eyes and fall asleep to the sounds of the animals.

Jin's P.O.V 🐻

The children love the zoo, it seems to have almost put their parents' "disappearance" out of their minds, and I fear for how long this peace will last.

Most of my lesson material is back at the school but the Zoo isn't devoid of anything, the gift shop is full of books on all sorts of animals and there are posters and animal-themed numbers and letter magnets and blocks, so I can make due.

Storytime is held in the small amphitheater, with stories about monkeys bananas, and Hippos at the drinking pond. Reading and Maths are held in the Staff Room on the sofa with the big whiteboard and animal magnets. And of course, science is all around us. Sometimes I think the children are learning better in this unique environment.

Taehyung has been so generous in letting us stay here, adding almost 20 extra mouths to feed. The children love him when he lets them hold some of the more tame animals and teaches them about the differences between types of owls or lets them play with his robo-dog Yeontan.

When I started to run out of reading material he volunteered his personal collection of books that he brought with him, including the full Harry Potter series.

While I don't know him well it's safe to say that he's a good person and I owe him my life and more.

Taehyung's P.O.V 🐯

The Zoo is my paradise, I'm finally doing what I want to do, where I want to do it but I've never felt more alone. I haven't eaten in almost a month now, and it's not that I'm not hungry (which makes it somehow worse) but that it feels wrong, like some psychological thing that's messing my brain up because I'm not doing "normal" human things anymore.

I'm solar powered if you're wondering. 

My battery, which I would guess is the robotic equivalent of a heart, lasts a week, so every Saturday I just slip away for a few hours to the tiger enclosure to recharge. (Which unfortunately has to be done by taking off my shirt and letting my metal panels soak up the sun's rays.) Usually, I play with Bom, the tiger cub, and try to ignore the fact that I'm now partially made of metal.

Thankfully Jimin and Mr. Kim don't ask many questions. For example, how I got access to part of the city's security grid after it went down. Most of the grid is fried but the few miles I've been able to reboot have helped me track down most of the missing animals. It's surprising, I thought they would've left by now but no, they stay close to home, congregating around the HYBE building. I want to bring it up but I can't figure out how without admitting I'm not wholly human.

Either way, something is up and I think Jimin knows it too. He spoke up about the sketchy vaccines and I had to stay silent instead of thanking him for a new insight into my condition. He says we should investigate but what is there that we can do against a huge corporation like that? And every time he talks about leaving it makes my metal heart hurt a bit. What are they going to do to me on the outside? Will I have to hide forever? Is there even anyone else left to hide from or has the whole planet been consumed by this phenomenon?

My current plan if no rescue comes is to help Jimin Mr. Kim and his class to safety (if there is any) and then make up some reason to stay behind, like serving my purpose with the animals or something. What is my purpose?

Is it to stay here in solitude?

I used to have friends (god knows where they are now) and enjoy being around people, but now I feel like I don't belong.

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[free-pool-trash]

everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys… you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

*

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

*

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

[mercurytrinemoon]

Random thoughts on Moon signs and why Aries Moon is annoying to have

I saw this tweet a while ago that had a list of planetary placements to die for. The first one was Aries Sun/Moon. As an Aries Moon myself, my response was "Nah-ahhh you DON'T want that. This is dangerous territory, trust me". And then I started thinking about Moon signs, why does Aries Moon suck, which Moon placements are nice and which not so much.

You know why Moon in Aries is bad? Sometimes you see these kids at grocery shops that start crying and yelling and tumbling on the floor because their parent doesn't want to buy them candy (actually, big chances are, they are Aries Moons, but that's not what I'm trying to convey here). As kids they are going to externalise their angry feelings, I mean, everyone's okay with that, they're kids, it's just candy. Worst case scenario, you're just going to roll your eyes at them. But think of an adult who has this screaming, hurt and angry kid inside. It's still there. It won't magically change signs once you're old enough. And yeah, it's going to yell sometimes. And be a cry-baby. And passionately experience every feeling with their whole self, good AND bad. Sometimes it's going to want to scream into a pillow because it's so impatient and frustrated and it just wants everything NOW. Someone on lindaland once said, “you don't have Moon with Moon in Aries, you just have two Marses”. Touché.

Okay but if you want to know something about Aries Moon, know that it feels the urge to be independent. Hates restrictions with their whole heart. Impulsive. Veryyyy impatient, as we have already established. Hates being told what to do. Having constant battle with their emotions. Open and naive (remember it's the child of the zodiac). Very cheery and child-like on one hand but on the other, emotions are expressed and felt in a very raw way, let's say, with a burning passion. Will chase everything. And you can only imagine how an Aries Moon feels when it catches the thing it wants. Likes being the first one in everything. Physical activity is good for their mental health. Kind of obsessed with sex.

Taurus Moon. It's Venusian. It's exalted. It's nice and cosy. It probably has a nice, soothing voice. Think of Elton John, he has Taurus Moon. Beautiful voice but also an eye for beauty and luxury. Can be stubborn in its emotions but hey, at least it's stable, right? It's sensual, just like everything Taurus, and probably loves food way too much. It's in touch with its own body and the only downfall to that is when a Taurus Moon person experiences negative emotions, it affects their whole body. Like, negative emotions can make them physically ill.

Gemini Moon. Ohh Geminis... You know that Mean Girls quote about Regina George "That's why her hair is so big. It's full of secrets". I think of that when I think of Gemini Moons. Like, they just know things. They collect secrets like some friggin Finnick Odair. And they analyze them, probably to the point of brain overheat. So, if you don't want a fried mind, I don't advise having a Gemini Moon. Not that you have a choice, but. They also like to talk. A lot. Love to gossip, just sayin. And seem very friendly when you talk to them. I say "seem" for a reason *whispers* don't trust them.

Cancer Moon. Mushy feelings. The homebodies. The family types. The comfy ones, but not in the way Taureans are. Gentle and creative. Likes to take care of others. Kinda reminds me of sitting with a hot cup of tea and typing poetry into your laptop on a rainy day. Idk. All water Moons are overly emotional but Cancer Moon can be moody and changeable and very sensitive to, you guessed it, Moon phases. CLINGY. You guys are clingy, just admit it.

Leo Moon. There's something about them... It's like the star quality of a Leo but it beams from within, you know? It's like something inside was pushing them towards greatness. They just have to believe in themselves and they will shine. Loves creative pursuits, arts, theatre, music, just anyhing fun. Expressive. Charming. Inspiring. Hopeless romantic. Can be flashy too, it's Leo after all. Wanna make them feel good? Compliment them, they LOVE it and need it.

Virgo Moon. Okay... for some reason I know a lot of Virgo Moons and let me tell you... there's something gentle about them. They're quiet and polite and - this is not a commonly talked about Virgo trait, but - they're softies, you know? But they need work, probably to distract themselves from all the thoughts. It's a lot more focused mercurial energy that Geminis, grounded and analytical. But that also makes them prone to overthinking and anxieties. Can be hard on themselves... so they work even more. And unlike Gemini Moons, they're SHYYYYY.

Libra Moon. Everyone loves them. Ugh the irresistible charm. They're the people's people. Again, it's that Venus. The difference is, Taurus loves to be loved and spoiled. Libra will love and spoil others, they just want to be nice and stuff. And they have an eye for beauty and arts. Chances are a Libra Moon person is beauty and art themselves. Has an internal need for relationships. But it's air so has a tendency to intellectualize these relationships... and everything else tbh. Great communication. Social.

Scorpio Moon. They straight up give me the creeps. My sister is a 0° Scorpio Moon so I KNOW. Don't get me wrong, I love Scorpio Suns... but Moons... It's like the water of the water, the over-emotional ones. Kiiiiiind of simmilar to Aries in the sense, that they feel emotions A LOT but it's not straight-forward like with Aries. Instead, it's pushy and passive-aggressive and manipulative, not very trustful and secretive. OH MY GOD, so secretive. It's just intense.

Sagittarius Moon. Ahhhhhh my favourite. And I don't think I say it because I'm Sag dominant... Sag Moons are just FUN. They exude FUN. Their playfulness and cheerfulness comes from their heart, that's why it's so special. Thinks and feels big. Big hopes and visions, maybe too big sometimes. Aries and Leo are focused more on the self, Sag on the other hand, is focused on the world - the actual world or a fictional one. Loves movies and is probably a bookworm. Philosophical. Optimistic and lighthearted. Kind of a dork - whether an adorable or annoying one lol.

Capricorn Moon. I'm sorry but ya'll are just depressing. I have Moon square Saturn so I kind of get the vibe. I feel like having a Cap Moon is like having something squashing you from the inside; very withdrawn. It's cool if you get to work, and Cap Moons can be workaholics and hard workers... But if you give into that hermitism (yea I just made that word up) and get lazy due to... things... or being too overwhelmed by that Saturn energy, you get squashed, basically. Also, fears and lots of reservations. I feel like these guys have issues with that. 

Aquarius Moon. My Aqua friends... let me tell you. They're not necessary weirdos, as people say. But they are humanitarians at their core. Like, THEY JUST CARE. So that makes them sensitive. But not in a watery way. Can be veryyyy aloof and hard to get to. Will probably intellectualize their emotions and try to detach from them. All about people but not like a Libra. Difference is, Aqua wants to be independent. Expressive and intelligent. 

Pisces Moon. My favourite water Moon. It's dreamy and soft. Yeah, a bit flakey, but let’s NOT talk about it. I feel like Pisces Moons just get emotions. They understand them because they're all about the collective. That makes them empathetic. Intuitive. Romantic. The artistic types. DAYDREAMERS TO THE MAX, they’re in another dimension. It’s like sometimes you talk to them but they’re somewhere else. Prolly loves being near the water, it's like the sea is calling them. May have escapist tendencies.

[collisiondiscourse]

battle scars || a deku & class 1-A drabble

(A quick drabble talking about members of class 1-A, the scars they share, and the love that heals them. TW for descriptions of violence and both external and internal injuries.)

There isn't a single hero that Deku knows of who doesn't have scars.

They aren't stigmatized, no not at all. No one who's ever seen a hero in action before thinks that scars are ugly. In hero society, scars are celebrated. Admired, adored, worshipped--whatever connotates the wearer to something positive. In a world where suffering and self-sacrifice are glorified, scars are a mark of beauty.

Even then though, Izuku Midoriya can't help but think that his scars are better off hidden.

He knows, god does he know, that everyone has their own wounds and injuries. Little divots here, the occasional prosthetic there--everyone he knows is marked in some way that reminds the world that they are still human where it matters. They aren't gods or faces off a product--just average traumatized people who unfortunately love humanity more than they love themselves.

Class 1-A being no exception.

Mina, for example, has burns. Big burns, small burns, burns of all shapes and sizes that litter her body like the pattern of the hero costume she wears. A few too many evil scientists with interests in chemistry like to think that their knowledge gives them the upper hand, but the Alien Queen always proves them wrong.

One of her horns is chipped, and when she gets drunk she admits that her sense of sight might be going. Sometimes, the scars sting, but the sweet ache of her body as she nails another dance routine reminds her that there's more to the world than how people look. When she begins to forget that, Kirishima claps loudly as she lands another pirouette.

Kaminari is dotted from head to toe in Lichtenberg scars. It's something that surprises no one, and something the blond feels no shame in showing off at any given moment. The lightning patterned marks are most prevalent along his forearms and palms, every hug from him feeling rough but safe nonetheless.

Occasionally, due to one too many brain fries, he'll have days where his mind doesn't seem like it's all there and memories fade like footprints in the sand. On those days, Denki lays down and Jirou runs her hands through electric blond hair while humming a soft and sweet tune.

Kirishima's scars run like cracks. They splinter and have ridges that look very much like his own quirk. Most of them are very faint and shallow, getting more focused and deep around his chest and forearms as he held firm against countless unrelenting attacks.

After one too many nosebleeds, the red-head finds out that he's way more prone to internal wounds from the way his organs deal with shock absorption less adaptively than his skin and bones do. Eijirou's tense muscles eventually learn to relax under the gentle caring massages from an exasperated Mina.

Iida, on the other hand, has a prosthetic. An unfortunate and horrible incident left him missing half a leg after pissing off a Stain-inspired villain who was a little too much like her idol. He's much less scarred (a benefit of his full-bodied armor), but Deku still sometimes sees the way he struggles to breathe.

Internal scars from internal wounds similar to Kirishima's make his body sometimes forget that he's stopped running. Tenya wears these scars with responsibility and blushes whenever he greets an enthusiastic Hatsume Mei for his monthly prosthetic maintenance check.

Uraraka has scars all over her fingers. Nicks and slices from where people tried to render her quirk useless by taking off a finger. She has a star-shaped mark on the right side of her forehead from where a building caved in and shattered her helmet.

Neat little slashes run up and down her ankles and soles of her feet from lucky shots people had before she floated away. Ochako wears these scars with ferocity and pride, adorning them in pink band-aids that Toga sometimes scratches at when the brunette comes to visit her in jail.

Todoroki is... a little different. The scar over his right eye is a lot more faded, yet still there. It grew up with him, healed and faded at the edges like the wounds in his heart, but not forgotten because of how it made him who he is. He has burns of all types adorned around his body--caused either by his own quirk or others.

He also often gets sick when he overexerts himself like the hopeless workaholic Big Three member he is. Yaoyorozu and Inasa visit him on those sick days, bringing light and chicken soup into his big empty home.

Bakugou's a lot similar to Deku. Their families and friends have noticed that if you put a diagram of their bodies side by side with markings of their injuries, it wouldn't exactly be a mirror image, but seemingly two parts of a puzzle clicking together. The blond had all sorts of scars around his body, a hazard that came with the title of Japan's Symbol of Victory.

There were deep lashes on his back, marks of muzzles and handcuffs from attempt after attempt of kidnappings and ransom hostages. On his forearms were twin bracelet scars, from an especially ruthless villain that attempted to cut his hands off in an effort to eliminate his quirk. Over his torso were two faint pink marks shaped like explosions, both from the first time he sacrificed himself for Deku.

Bakugou had similar aches on his shoulders and neck from overuse and recoil whenever he'd pushed himself too quick and too soon. Kacchan would scoff at the notion of hiding his scars and treat the pain with a quick home-cooked meal, fingers twitching when Deku would plop himself on the counter and ask about his latest shift.

But Deku?

Deku hid well. He hid because it was his habit to deceive and alter his appearance--covering things up with a simple black arm band because in the grand scheme of things there were some secrets best left unseen. Deku wore long sleeves and concealer over his skin like it was a suit of armor, hiding the rawest parts of him because even as he grew and climbed his way to the top, a part of him always remembered that the burden he carries is too heavy to let be seen.

So he hides.

He hides the way burns litter his skin from trying to contain the inferno that is OfA and walking through fire to bring civillians home. He hides the Lichtenberg scars and the way green lightning sometimes crackles hard enough to make him flinch as he fights his way through unbeatable hoards of enemis. He hides the prosthetics, the way his arms gave out on him quite a while ago, forcing them to be replaced and improved. He hides the way people have tried to tear him apart and steal his burden for themselves.

One for All was his greatest gift and most painful curse.

Some nights he trembles and shakes, muscles spasming in effort to just simply keep going. Shivers run up and down his spine because with every injury his blood circulation worsens and worsens until cold and pain is all that he feels. Izuku will sometimes walk around, scars hurting and throbbing hot white under his skin, and look for medication that dulls the ache and makes him go a little less crazy.

Hands mindlessly running over bumps and edges, scars from villains and friends and debris and growth spurts. He would stand in front of a mirror like a house of cards and pull himself apart, reflection making him detest himself from how gnarled and ugly and imperfect he was.

"--No, my boy. Not imperfect." The tall and gaunt figure of his old mentor would tut. Thin and skeletal fingers would grasp the bottom of a white shirt and lift it up, gently revealing a scar so deep it almost looks like a crater. "Not imperfect at all. For people like us, your scars make you far more than just a hero."

Deku, of course, would hum in resignation. He looks at All Might--no, Toshinori Yagi with a skeptical look and the retired hero would smile.

"You are... a miracle."

And just like that, Deku would be brought back to being 14 years old, quirkless and desperate. He's on his knees, looking at the Symbol of Peace in his true form--thin and pale but still oh so powerful. A voice tells him that there is a destiny he has far greater than he'll ever realize, an adventure that awaits him through the old skinny man with unruly blond hair.

Izuku didn't see weakness that day, no.

He saw hope.

So now, even as Pro-Hero Deku hides away the parts of himself that are broken and raw from the world he protects, he finds his cure all the same. In the arms of those who are warm and familiar, Deku sheds his armor, his foundation, his long sleeves--

and he is simply Izuku.

He is Izuku who gets spa days and yoga sessions with Ashido, Denki, and Eijirou that stops his muscles from spasming on days where it gets unbearable. He is Izuku who gets tender massages and hearty midnight snack runs with Ochako and Tenya when nightmares and visions just won't let him sleep. He is Izuku who gets soup and warm borrowed hoodies from Shouto and Kacchan when stress makes him keel over and shudder at the thought of working. He is Izuku who gets big warm hugs and a fierce movie marathon with his loving mother and mentor who is his father in all but name.

He is Izuku, riddled with scars that still heal.

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ The Death of Six - Edited version.

Greetings and salutations! So I know this isn’t what everyone wanted but people are still reading Zero to Six and I’m honestly so grateful that a year on, people are still loving this series.  But I never felt like I wrote it properly, the chapters where always too short and I felt like they were never detailed enough so I wanted to bring to you an edited version (that probably still won’t be perfect.) one that I’m more satisfied with.  I will be keeping the original version up just in case people prefer that one, maybe one day I’ll take it down? who knows but yeah so enjoy! <3 P.s I’ve missed you all so much and I’ve really missed this series. Hopefully sometime soon the Prequel will be out which I have started and named ‘Before there was Six, there was Zero.’

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost.  Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff.  But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four.  Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet.  Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters. 

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​

Zero to Six ~ Part 2. Edited Version.​ Masterlist.

“You’re stalling.” 

“I’m not stalling.” Zero could practically hear the smirk in Fours voice over the coms. “I’m simply just working myself up to it.” 

She laughed. “You always say that, and you’re always stalling.” She was playing on his last nerve, she knew it but this would be good for Four and entertainment for her. He always worked better when he was frustrated and no one stressed him out quite like Zero.

Four had been doing parkour for most of his life, or that’s what he told them. Yet he was still fearful every single time, still I guess that’s what made him great at it the fear of always falling gave him the adrenaline he needed to make the jumps. 

Another breathless laugh fluttered through Zeros left ear. “Don’t test me darling.” Now it was his turn to make Zero sweat, this always happened. Zero would insult and tease and Four would flirt right back, although most of the team were used to it by now they still broke them up from time to time. 

“Whatever monkey boy, just be ready for when Six gets his ass in gear!” She clicked her tongue. “I can hear you mocking me asshole, remember I hold the key here I can make your life a living hell with just one click of a button.” 

“You already make my life hell darling, But I live for it everyday.” 

“Swear to god Four, you’re a pain in my ass.” She mumbled as she typed away at the computer trying to figure out their next move so she could be ready with any instruction they needed. 

“I’m sure your ass is pretty fine, I can’t wait to see it someday.” She could practically feel the smirk.

“Yeah? And I can't wait to punch the smirk off that pretty face one day, only you could be in a life or death situation and be thinking about my virtual ass.”

“Wait, did you just admit to fancying me Zero? Guys she called me handsome, I think I’m getting somewhere.” 

“Go for Four!” Saved by the bell it seems, One’s voice rang through coms. Zero silently thanked god for she did fancy Four, who wouldn’t fancy that absolute Greek god of a man? With that honey voice and the moves he had! moves he could use on her, she shook her head hoping the images of him forming in her head would magically fall out of her brain never to return, but she wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Shut the hell up, stop thinking about ways to seduce Zero and get your ass down here we need you!” And just like that, it was go time. “NOW!”

Zero had been working with this team for a while now, but she was more on the surveillance side of the missions, which meant that she had never officially met the team face to face. The only person she had actually met was One, who had recruited her. He would visit from time to time, she liked to think they had a special bond. She was in fact the first person in need that One had found and ever since then he had become a sort of father figure to her. 

Two was next who was sort of cold at times, Zero put this down to her CIA training but she had never been anything but caring towards Zero. Then she found Three, a hitman who she was reluctant to look into at first but she knew now it was the best thing for her and the team. Despite his past he was one of the most sweet and caring men she’d ever met, and he never failed to make her smile on a bad day.  Ever since recruiting Four, she felt the atmosphere in the group shift slightly, there was nothing bad about him but they both couldn’t ignore the growing attraction between them, and this was just over cyber space.  She then found her best friend in Five, she was different from the rest. Not as violent and rash but still amazing at what she did and protecting herself and others, Zero knew if she ever needed someone the first person she’d go to was Five. 

Six was her latest recruit, one that she knew was extremely talented in not only driving but in all things mechanical too, they had chatting a few times about servers and bots and he’d promised her a round in their shared favourite video game once this mission was complete. 

She’d be lying to herself and everyone else if she said she didn’t want to meet them all in person, they were the closest thing she had, had to family. However she knew that if she was to meet them nothing could ever come of her and Four. One would definitely not allow it, and most likely lock her straight back up.

Still they were sort of this dysfunctional family, and she was definitely the odd one out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had, had a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t ‘dead’ the only time she was allowed to leave the flat was when One said it was moving day. He didn’t like her staying in one flat too long, she must have moved at least four times this year already. While she was alone in her flat eating ready meals they were all back at base eating together, she sometimes pretended she was there eating with them. Three telling her some stupid story that no one else is listening to because they have heard it at least a thousand times, but she would just be so happy to hear his beautiful accent in person that she would listen to anything he was telling her.  How she wished she could hug three in real life. The closest she had gotten to eating with them was over coms, sometimes they would leave the line open for debriefing but it still made her feel like an outcast. 

“I’m coming down!” Everything was going wrong, Six had gone the wrong way. Which Zero wasn’t surprised to see as everyone in the car was shouting at each other, she sat there in her gaming chair drinking Dr Pepper and enjoying her fried chicken meal while everyone was losing their minds in the field. Maybe getting to stay in the comfort of her flat wasn’t so bad after all? 

“Good boy.” She praised Four. “Finally putting those parkour skills to use, other than robbing some innocent person.” 

Even before he started to speak she could tell he’d started to run because his speech came out in huffs. “Shut up, at least I can do parkour which makes me cooler than a girl who sits at her computer all day.”

She had to laugh. “What are you? Five years old? Try again when you can think up better come backs, I can’t take you seriously right now.”  

Wherever One moved Zero was never too far away from where the team worked, the first time the rest of the team worked this out was when Zero first used the drone to help navigate them someplace safe. That was also the first time she finally got to see Four in action, the image of him running along the rooftops like a monkey in the jungle both amused her and impressed her. Hence the nickname she had given him. But there were also times when he would have close calls, where he had nearly fallen to his death that’s when the breath would get knocked out of her and she would only calm when she knew he was safe on the ground again. 

“Right over you guys.” He said in a strained voice while leaping onto another roof.  

“So guys, just look out for the flying monkey above you. That will be Four.” Most of the teasing with Four was just to pass the time while they were out in the field having fun and mainly it was just way too fun to hear him get so frustrated.  

“Zero, that’s not helping us.” One said in a sing-song voice. 

“Maybe it’s not helping you, but it is definitely helping me pass the time.” All she could hear was a disappointed grunt from One which just made her chuckle,it was also very fun to piss One off.

“Six! SIX! Wrong way god damn it!” 

She cringed at how loud Four had screamed down the coms. “Come back! I’ve got an idea.”

“Ladies and gentleman, for the first time in his life Four has an idea!” She said mindlessly typing away trying to find the best route for them to escape by.

“You know what Zero, when we finally meet I’m going to run that fine ass of yours into the ground.” He all but growled.

“You can try monkey boy, but you’ll have to catch me first.” She smirked to herself, she secretly hoped that, that was more of a promise than a mere threat. “Oh, challenge accepted sweetheart. I’d love to have a game of cat and mouse with you.” 

“You two do remember that we are on a mission right now, right?” Six moaned. “What with you two flirting, and these absolute idiots fighting beside me in the car. I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on driving!” With every word Six’s voice got more agitated and louder.

“We are not flirting!” Both Four and Zero exclaimed together. 

“Aww they even said it at the same time!” Zero just rolled her eyes at One’s teasing. “No one cares, now both of you shut up so we can all get out of here.” 

“That’s it Six, keep coming towards me!” The drone was filming just above the action, once she’d wiped her hands and they were free from the grease on her chicken. She finally realised what Four was about to do. 

Suddenly the car that was tailing Six was being impaled by five metal tubes. “God, okay I’m definitely done eating now. That was so gross.” 

Then the screaming started to fill the coms. “Guy’s, what the hell are you doing?” All Zero could make out was something about an eyeball. 

“This is so stressful! Can everyone stop arguing and speaking over each other?!” Zero was getting agitated now. 

“YOU THINK YOU’RE STRESSED?! I’M TRYING TO DRIVE WHILST ALSO TRYING NOT TO KILL ANYONE, DID I MENTION I ALSO HAVE AN EYEBALL ON MY LEG?!” Six all but screamed down the coms, loud enough that Zero had to remove her earpiece until she was sure he was done with his rant. 

“Six sweetie,” she said as calmly as she could, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?” 

“DO I SOUND LIKE I’M OKAY ZERO?!” She knew he would say that, she finally let out the chuckle she was trying to hold as to not irritate him further.

“Sorry I was just asking. I swear I‘m not using your painful situation to make myself feel better.” She held her hands up in defence even though he couldn’t see her.

He just let out a huff. “I’m going to ignore you now Zero, you’re pissing me off more than these guys are.” 

After the commotion things went quiet for a while, there was now a helicopter tailing them so all effort and concentration went on losing it. While there was little chatter over the coms the main sound that dominated the air was the gunfire, Zero silently prayed to herself while she watched the drone that everyone would make it out of their first real mission alive. One finally found a route for them, conveniently inside of a building that would shelter them enough to lose the aerial surveillance they were under. 

“The drone will meet you on the other side, good luck and please try not to make too much of a mess in there Six. There are some priceless statues in there we would all like preserving.” Just as Zero finished her sentence she heard a loud crash.

“You were saying?” Six chuckled nervously. 

“You didn’t.” Zero stared shocked at her screen, mouth wide open. 

One was the one to respond to her though. “Unfortunately he did, don’t worry we’re all just as disappointed in him.” 

“Okay we finally lost the chopper, Zero do you have a visual?” One asked surprisingly calmly.

“You mean the bright green car, kind of hard to miss. Good choice Six you really blend in.” Zero laughed. “I see you, there are two black vans heading your way. Shake them off then head to the arranged rendezvous spot where Three will be waiting for you.” 

Six’s voice was strained when he spoke. “Listen, fast and convenient was what I was told to get. So that’s what I got.” 

Zero would have responded but she was more distracted by the sight of Four on a skateboard holding a launcher. He jumped off the board and leaped up onto the stone wall just as one of the black vans passed, he aimed and shot, never missing the mark. She was impressed for a moment but then saw the smug smile on his face, he looked directly into the drone and winked at Zero. She just scoffed, what an absolute show off.

“Seems like we have a superhero on our team.” Six laughed impressed. 

Zero scoffed again, but this time loud enough so everyone could hear it over the coms. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a superhero.” 

“Then what would you call me darling? A Greek god?” This is the thing about Four, he’d never met Zero in person but he knew exactly how to push her buttons. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the banter from time to time. 

“Hurm more like a vein asshole that thinks far too highly of himself.” She snapped back.

But he just laughed, the complete opposite of what she was expecting. “I mean everyone else loves me, might as well love myself too.” She rolled her eyes, She really couldn’t blame him though he was a very handsome man but no way in hell was she ever going to tell him that. “One day you’ll fall for the charm that everyone else falls for. I know you’re already obsessed with me.” 

“In your dreams Four.” 

“It already happens in my dreams, every night darling. I’d be happy to elaborate later on in a private chat.” Zero audibly gagged. 

“Guy’s can we please cut out the flirting until after the mission? We’re nearly there and I don’t think any of us want to hear whatever this is.” One sounded tired and Zero just laughed at how much their fighting annoyed the other members. 

“Yes boss!” She added in a salute even though One couldn’t see her, he could feel she was mocking him. 

Just then the drone cut out. “Shit! Someone shot down the drone. You’re on your own from here guys.” 

There was a commotion through the coms, one that didn’t sound at all good. Car tyres screeched, bullets rain down on the metal of the car Zero held her breath as she waited for anything. Even just a breath so she knew at least someone was still alive, her heart stopped when the line had been silent for too long she had to know what happened. 

“Guys, come on talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you all being so silent? What happened?” There was another breath of silence and her mind went straight to Four, she shook her head. No! She wasn’t going to let herself think about that, she scolded herself for getting too attached to the little shit.  

The was a crackle over the line, Five cleared her throat. “Six is dead, we’re in the van, the space is clear.”  

Zero sucked in a breath, she felt like her lungs were burning. “What?” 

“Zero listen to me, you need to turn off coms now.” One must have turned from the group, he was using his quiet, serious voice. “I’ll handle this okay, I’ll check back in with you later.” 

Just like that he was gone, she clicked the switch to turn off almost absentmindedly. She sat back in her chair, only snapping back to reality when she felt something wet fall on her hand. She softly touched her face to find her cheeks were wet, when had she started to cry? Six wasn’t someone she knew in person, he had been the last member of the team but still a very important piece of their puzzle. She thought about the game he had promised to play with her after the mission, this would never come to pass now. Now he was really dead, and it was all her fault.

For the first time Zero started to think about the whole team and if One’s master plan of being ghosts to take down the world’s evil was such a good idea after all, why had it taken a real death in the team for her to even think about this. What if it had been Four, she didn’t think she could live with herself if anything ever happened to Four, maybe it was a good thing they had never met. Seeing him in person, hearing his deep honey voice, feeling his warmth would definitely make her fall deeper then she already was. He was just a voice over the coms but behind that was a real person, one that probably wouldn’t even share the same feelings towards her. So she thought ‘Yes, It’s a good thing I’m behind this computer screen and not with them in person.’ She had to try to distance herself from now on.  

 ......

Just wanted to say one last Thank You! for the continued support for this story <3 

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

The Story of Oil in Western Pennsylvania: What, How, and Why?

by Hannah Smith

I am a fries-on-salad, haluski dinner, dairy farm heritage kind of Western Pennsylvanian. I grew up near Venango and Crawford County and had a rural childhood. I went to a small school with about 300 kids in K-6th grade. Around 4th grade, I remember taking a field trip to Titusville, Pennsylvania. I remember seeing the familiar road signs and buildings as our bus gassed along the back roads. I had family in the Titusville and Oil City area, so it was a familiar route to take with my parents. I remember thinking, even at that young age, that the area looked worn and just, well, tired. But I was too young to grasp how this tired little town’s geology had changed the global economy and course of human history. When I was older, I pursued a degree in geology and began to understand more about my local community.

Our field trip took us to Titusville, Pennsylvania to visit Drake’s Well, the first commercial oil well in the United States. The site is named after the well’s driller, Edwin L. Drake who in 1859 struck oil outside of Titusville for the Seneca Oil Company. The company took the name from the Seneca Nation, one of the original Five Nations of the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois Confederacy, who had long made use of the resource Drake sought by skimming naturally-occurring slicks of petroleum, or unrefined oil, from the surface of local waters. These Indigenous people, who were removed from their native lands in the 1700s, 1800s, and 1900s, did not benefit from the Seneca Oil Company.

In the early 1800s oil was an unwanted by-product from salt wells (wells used to mine salt), and before that, a traditional medicine. In small doses, oil was used to treat respiratory diseases, epilepsy, scabies, and other ailments¹. Even today, chemicals made from the refining of petroleum are responsible for many of our modern medicines. Ointments, antihistamines, antibacterials, cough syrups, and even aspirin are created from chemical reactions created from petrochemicals².

However, the purpose of Drake’s Well was to produce oil for refining into kerosene for lamps, and thereby provide an alternative to the whale oil then used to illuminate homes and workplaces. Salt wells used water to dissolve salt source rock, and then carry the resulting brine through piping to the surface where it would be evaporated to leave salt as a solid residue. Although this method works for producing salt, it was far less efficient for producing oil. Productive oil drilling required new techniques, and one of Drake’s most important innovations was the “drive pipe,” sections of cast iron pipe driven into the shaft to protect the drill bit from water and cave-ins. Through experimentation and innovation, on August 27, 1859, Drake struck oil when his drill reached a depth of 69.5 feet.

While Drake’s Well was not the most productive, or largest oil well, the Titusville site is globally significant because it kick-started the petroleum drilling revolution that eventually changed global economies and environments. While Edwin Drake lived a hard life even after his discovery, he is still considered the father of the modern petroleum practices and industry³.

When my field trip class arrived at the Drake’s Well Museum I remember seeing an odd looking wooden building with an awkward chimney-like structure on one side. We were led through single-file so everyone could get a look at the steel machinery used in the drill, and the pipes that dispersed oil into wooden barrels clustered in the building. In my 10-year-old brain there is no way I could properly fathom that this discovery was related to many of the comforts and conveniences I took for granted in my life, such as cars, heating, electricity, plastics, medicines, and even the asphalt roads that we drove on. Why was Titusville special? More specifically, why did western Pennsylvania have oil in the ground?

From about 490 to 360 million years ago, during the span of geological time known as the Ordovician Period and Devonian Period, most of what is now Pennsylvania was an ocean basin teeming with life. Pre-Appalachian Mountains systems eroded over time and deposited sediment of sand, silt, and mud that mixed on the seafloor with the dead plant material.  Currents at the ocean bottom were minimal, leaving the accumulating sediments and organic material relatively undisturbed and oxygen-free.  Without oxygen, bacteria that normally break down organic material could not act.  A thick, black, anoxic ooze formed, preserving the organic material.  Over millions of years, forces caused by plate tectonics generated enough heat and pressure to compact the sediments into rock and “cook” the organic material into petroleum.

If you’re from western Pennsylvania, you’ve probably heard of the Marcellus and Utica shales. The natural gas extracted from these rock units formed in a similar way to petroleum but was subjected to a much longer period of heat and pressure.

With Edwin Drake’s success, and layers of oil-bearing rock relatively close to the surface, Titusville boomed. The year Drake drilled his first oil well, Titusville only had 250 residents. However, by 1865 the population increased to 10,000. Nearby Pithole City, now a ghost town, had 50 hotels during the oil peak of the area around 1866. This boom was short lived as other drilling companies began operations in the area and excess production lowered oil prices. Companies picked up to look elsewhere almost as quickly as they appeared⁵. While Titusville boomed and busted, the oil industry itself was growing. Drake drilled for a product to compete with whale oil, but the oil industry underwent phenomenal growth because the demand for its product grew as a lubricant for engines and many other types of machines, a resource for heating on a distributed scale, and as a refined fuel for developing motorized vehicles. Two World Wars during the first half of the 20th Century and the population explosion of the 1950s further increased demand for petroleum. During the Century’s latter half advancements in oil drilling technology made ocean drilling platforms a reality, and with them an increase in oil production as well as an increase in negative impacts due to devastating oil spills.

As of 2016, the world consumed over 97 million barrels daily⁶. So what does combusting 97 million barrels of oil a day, a resource from below the surface, mean for the Earth’s atmosphere? The burning of fossil fuels produces greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide, and fluorinated gases. Greenhouse gases absorb heat from the sun that the earth’s surface reflects back out into the atmosphere, similar to how a blanket traps in body heat. Burning fossil fuels causes climate change by increasing the total amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, thickening the “blanket” around the earth, and increasing the global average temperature. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), in 2019 greenhouse gas CO₂ emissions totaled 33 gigatons, or 1 billion metric tons, or about the weight of 1.5 billion school buses⁸. Climate change is responsible for increased frequency and severity of weather disasters, wildfires, and flooding, to name a few negative impacts. The abundant CO₂ in our atmosphere equilibrates with and diffuses into our oceans, causing the water to become more acidic and eroding the calcium carbonate structures of coral and other marine organisms. Climate change does not just affect wildlife, it also affects the lives of Pennsylvanians. In Pennsylvania climate change is likely to lead to increasing home insurance rates, higher taxes to replace infrastructure, longer allergy seasons, increasing heat stroke rates in citizens, rising food costs due to crops damaged by erratic weather and higher temperatures, and decreasing water quality and availability due to large storms causing water contamination⁷.

Early organisms were buried by sediment 488 to 360 million years ago and altered into petroleum by heat and pressure. For thousands of years, Earth’s petroleum reserves were largely untouched. Innovator Edwin Drake changed petroleum’s role by successfully drilling the first commercial oil well in North America that August day in 1859. Petroleum became a global commodity, eventually fueling a fast paced modern life. Now in the 21st century, the burning of fossil fuels, such as petroleum, is causing worldwide rapid climate change.

When I was on that field trip to Drake’s Well in 4th grade, we did not discuss the global or local implications of petroleum. This resource is responsible for many of the  day to day conveniences that have come to define contemporary life, but it also feeds environmental change  that is forcing  a “new normal,” and will cause an existential threat to humanity. I could not have fathomed that this global resource had its start in my own family’s backyard. I think that Drake’s Well is a good reminder that Earth-changing innovations can happen anywhere. I don’t think Drake could have predicted the scale to which his discovery would change society and the environment over the next 160 years, in the same way that most people do not realize how their small individual actions are affecting the larger social-ecological systems, and sustainability of all life on Earth. Although individual actions can negatively affect Earth, they can also be positive. Who knows, the next innovation to combat anthropogenic climate change may be happening in your backyard. Wind and solar farms have been developing and growing throughout Pennsylvania since 2007, providing an alternative option for electric energy use.

I started having more appreciation for the Earth Sciences as I got older. This eventually led me to obtaining a bachelor’s degree in geology, interning with the National Park Service at the Hagerman Fossil Beds in Idaho, and working in mapping for a few years before returning to school for illustration and design in hopes to marry the sciences and arts together. While obtaining my geology degree I met my now husband who has a Master’s in Structural Geology, and worked in the natural gas field for five years before making the switch to environmental geology. Our family's income was supported by the fossil fuels industry for a time, and therefore we understand a decent amount of the ethics and controversy that is in the industry. However we are both very invested in the earth sciences and look forward to more sustainable tech preserving a better environment for the future.

Hannah Smith is an intern in the Section of Anthropocene Studies. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

References:

1 Early Medicinal Uses of Petroleum 2015

https://daily.jstor.org/petroleum-used-medicine/

2 Modern Uses for Petroleum in Medicine 2019

https://context.capp.ca/articles/2019/feature_petroleum-in-real-life_pills

3 Drake’s Well History of Petroleum 2016

https://www.aoghs.org/petroleum-pioneers/american-oil-history/

4 Description of petroleum formation 2014

http://elibrary.dcnr.pa.gov/GetDocument?docId=1752503&DocName=ES8_Oil-Gas_Pa.pdf

5 The boom and bust cycle of the oil industry 2015

https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/23/business/energy-environment/oil-makes-a-comeback-in-pennsylvania.html

6 World Oil Statistics 2016-Current

https://www.worldometers.info/oil/

7 List of the Effects of Climate Change on People and how to protect yourself 2019

https://blogs.ei.columbia.edu/2019/12/27/climate-change-impacts-everyone/

8 International Energy Agency 2019

https://www.iea.org/articles/global-co2-emissions-in-2019

9 Drake’s Well Museum

https://www.drakewell.org/

10 Seneca-Iroquois National Museum

https://www.senecamuseum.org/

11 Seneca Nation Oil Process in New York State

https://nyhistoric.com/2013/10/seneca-oil-spring/

[corvus--rex]

Semi-abandoned soulmate au. I actually started this one before The Sound of Color, although this is vastly different from that one. This particular au also doesn't have the requirement that soulmates are always romantic (ie Pidge and their soulmate). It jumps around a little, and those sections are marked with dividers. Soulmate strangers-to-lovers. . .

~*~*~*~

Soulmarks. Everyone had one. An indelible mark that bound two people together. Age 13 was when it would start. The mark “waking up” as some called it, and reaching out for its companion mark. Most soulmates were within a few years of each other, so the lingering tingle of a mark searching for its mate usually didn’t last long.

Lance was lucky that way. His mark sprang to life on his thirteenth birthday and quieted three months later. There was no way to know who or where his soulmate was at that point, but he knew they were three months younger than him. He had been getting ready for school that day when the constant tingle in his mark faded.

He’d always liked the quarter note-shaped mark on the inside of his left wrist. What confused him were the numbers that circled it. No two marks were the same, and Lance knew that his soulmate would have something different. But those numbers confused him. 1030211933. Trying to figure it out was a favorite pastime throughout middle and high school, but he never could get there. He hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he hoped that it would make sense when he did.

Once two marks found each other, the secondary connection opened. The marks on the soul allowed for marks on the body. Words, doodles, full-blown artwork. Drawing or writing on skin would appear on a connected soulmate. Once Lance’s mark had connected, the first thing he did was ask his soulmate about the numbers. They didn’t know either. But he did find out that his soulmate’s mark sat on their right hip, it was a feather, and they didn’t have those numbers but they did have a series of roman numerals along the feather’s shaft that read:

X X X X X X I X I X X X X I I I

They continued to talk for years, learning about each other. They had decided not to share identifying information like names or location, but Lance knew that his soulmate had a twin and that their parents had adopted their cousin when their cousin’s parents died in an accident. They didn’t know anything about the accident because they’d been too young at the time and no one had explained it since. Lance told them that he had three siblings, that he was a twin, too, and that his older sister connected with her soulmate the same day he had.

He lay in his bed in the dorm he shared with his best friend Hunk, rereading the last message his soulmate had sent him about how college sucked and how they already had an in-class performance a month into the semester. He’d responded with a note about how trying to balance classes with rehearsals as the lead in his school’s fall musical was kicking his ass. Lance already knew that his soulmate was studying music at a college close to where they grew up. And they knew that he was majoring in theatre at a college a three-hour drive from home.

Hunk trudged into their dorm room and threw himself onto his bed. “Remind me again why I decided this was a good idea?” he groaned.

“Which part?” Lance asked in return.

“The part where I decided to be a pastry chef and subject myself to the hell that is the one professor I can’t get away from?”

“Because you love baking and always have and one asshole can’t make you hate doing what you love.”

“I swear she just likes to terrorize us. There’s that guy I told you about – Sal, the one I had a class with freshman year and he transferred to general culinary and now he’s back – she hates him. And I don’t know why. But then, she hates me, too. Pretty sure it’s that bun. It’s so tight she doesn’t need a face lift. But I’m also convinced that Chef Dayak is just evil.”

“Hey, at least you have Shay there with you. Not everyone gets to have their soulmate in class with them all day,” Lance pointed out.

“How’s it with yours?” Hunk asked.

“We’re working our way up to talking about meeting. I know I wanted to wait until after graduation, but I’m getting impatient, y’know? It’s been eight years and I don’t want to wait anymore. But I get that they do. So…yeah. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that particular spiral, “You going to the Halloween party this year?”

“Dude! It’s a month away!”

Lance sat up, turning to his best friend, one eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You say this like there’s such a thing as too early. And no, it’s only three weeks. We need to start now.”

Hunk groaned again, this time in only partial exasperation, and sat up. “Fine. The fuck are you planning this year?”

Lance just laughed. Hunk threw a pillow at him, collapsing in his own fit of giggling when a startled Lance took the pillow directly to the face. Lance’s alarm sounded, loud and annoying. He groaned, throwing Hunk’s pillow back, and fumbled for his phone to turn the blaring sound off.

“Fuck me. I have to get to rehearsal.”

In an apartment just off campus, Keith stopped playing and pulled the pencil out of his hair, making yet another correction to his scribbled sheet music. He started over, again, ignoring the key in the door and his roommate coming back in. He ignored their slight form dropping their overpacked backpack on the floor and throwing themselves onto the other end of the couch with their laptop and notebook. Keith was too focused on his music to pay much attention to Pidge.

Except that Pidge wanted his attention right then. “Hey. Asshole,” they said, throwing a ball of notebook paper at him.

“Yes, hellspawn?” he asked casually, setting his guitar on its stand by the couch, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m on the committee for the party. You’re coming,” they said while typing away on their laptop.

“No. I’m not. I don’t go to parties, and you know it. Why the fuck are you so determined for me to go?”

Pidge looked up, fixing him with their stare. “Because I said so. And because Matt’s going to be there. His girlfriend’s going too. You actually like Neve. So you’re going.”

“Including you, that’s three people I’d be willing to talk to. Why should I bother?” he stopped, a dreaded thought sparking as to why they were so hellbent on his going to the party. “It’s because it’s a week after my birthday, isn’t it?”

“What? You mean that thing you ignore every year except for the proliferation of doodles from your soulmate? Why would that have anything to do with it?”

“I'm still not going,” Keith insisted.

“We’ll see about that,” Pidge answered cryptically. They went back to their laptop, typing furiously. They stayed that way, ignoring Keith’s death glare until he gave up and went back to his music.

Eventually, Keith decided that the music portion of his brain was fried and gave up for the night. Pidge was buried in their laptop, writing a paper for their robotics class at top speed. Ignoring them for the moment, Keith opened his own laptop, going back to the English assignment he still hadn’t finished. It was due by the next class, which was two days away, but he’d been putting it off for longer than that. He typed lazily at it for a while before a horrible thought hit him and he realized that his previous assessment had been wrong. He glared up at Pidge over his screen.

“She’s going, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Who?” Pidge asked back, pretending they didn’t know what he meant.

“You know who.”

“If you’re referring to your sister, then yes, she is.”

Keith sighed. “Just because she knows who her soulmate is now, that doesn’t mean that you’re right. Mine could be literally anyone.”

Pidge closed their laptop. “And you’re in denial. I can not believe that your twin sister happens to have a soulmate who has a younger brother who is also a twin and his soulmate has a twin. The odds of that happening are so small as to be inconceivable! Not to mention the part where Acxa’s soulmate and her brother both connected with theirs on the same day.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that it’s weird. But you don’t know anything about Acxa’s soulmate’s siblings, and neither does she. And not everyone’s met theirs yet. You haven’t! All you know is their handle on Steam!”

“So? I also know that Beezer’s on the other side of the country. I know that we won’t get to meet in person until after graduation. All I'm saying is that this is a little too weird to be a coincidence.”

“And I’m not going to let you harass my sister’s soulmate about her siblings on the day they’re meeting face to face for the first time. Leave it alone, Pidge.”

“Fine,” they said, going back to their paper.

Keith knew full well that Pidge would not leave it alone, but there was only so much he could do to stop them.

A few days later, Lance dragged his twin sister, Hunk, and Shay to the nearest Halloween pop-up costume store. None of them had found anything they liked, and Lance was getting bored. Shay had wandered off to the decoration part of the store, and Hunk was making sure the twins didn’t get into trouble. But Hunk had gotten briefly distracted and lost them.

“Jules no.” Ah, there was Lance.

“Jules yes.” And his sister.

“Are you two still arguing?” Hunk asked as he approached the twins.

“Hunk,” Lance said, putting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, “She wants us to be the Wonder Twins again. I absolutely refuse. We did that once when we were like nine.” He felt something hit his back and whipped around to find his sister holding a Wonder Twins costume. “Ana Julieta Alameda-McClain, get that fucking thing away from me.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” Jules pouted. She put it back, then turned around, spotting something else. “Ooh! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch?”

“What the fuck – no! I’m never going Halloween shopping with you again. You’re on your own,” Lance said, wandering off and taking Hunk with him.

Hunk was laughing. “Why do you keep letting her do this, dude?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I say we go over to The Costume Company. I think I’m done with mass-produced crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go find Shay and meet up with you two at the car,” Hunk agreed, heading in the direction he’d last seen Shay.

Lance reluctantly went back to his sister. “We’re going to The Costume Company,” he said without getting her attention.

“Hm? Ok,” Jules answered, not paying attention to her twin.

“Bye, then.” He started to leave without her, getting halfway down the aisle of the Halloween pop-up before she realized what he’d said.

“Lance! Get back here, you ass!” she yelled after him.

He ignored her as payback for her insistence on twin costumes and kept going. She chased him all the way to his car, where Hunk and Shay were already waiting. Lance finally lost his composure, cracking up when he reached his waiting friends.

“Leandro. Alejandro. Alameda. McClain. I am going to kill you,” Jules growled while out of breath from chasing him.

“No you won’t,” he said, “Mamá would kill you in return.”

Shay saw her opportunity and took it. “Shotgun!” she announced, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Shay, I love you,” Hunk said, getting in behind Lance, effectively separating the twins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Acxa, just promise me you won’t give in to Pidge. They’re being totally insufferable with this,” Keith said. He lay on his bed, earbuds connected to the call he was on with his twin.

“You know me better than that. Gremlin won’t get shit out of me. And she’s not getting anywhere near V at the party."

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[sinisterlyhan]

01. lee felix / 2834 words

some fluff here and there, soft sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, female reader, kind of dom!felix

a/n: alright, i have one more minho drabble to write and i think my brain will be fried for the remaining times. 

felix was sulking when he walked into your shared apartment. you could see from the arch of his lips and how his eyes were dimmer than usual that he was upset, and the way he kicked his shoes off and had to fumble with the doorknob to lock the door told you he was not in his mind as well.

setting your laptop aside, your brows raised when he didn't greet you the way he always would when he gets home from classes and work, instead he sighed and headed straight inside for your shared bedroom, one that still needed heavy renovating ever since you two got together and impulsively decided to turn his bedroom into a storage room instead.

you got off the couch and headed inside as well, wanting nothing more than to ask if felix was doing okay. he rarely sulks like this, he had always been such a bright and cheerful person that seeing him so quiet all of a sudden made you feel uneasy.

the door to your room was opened and you pushed it open carefully before poking your head inside. you saw that his school bag was discarded at the corner of your messy desk and, and felix was standing by the bed, looking down at the blanket with a stoic gaze.

he jumped a little when he felt your arms wrapping around him from behind, one over and the other under his shoulders, your hands meeting each other in front of his chest. you leaned your chin on his shoulder, rocking him from side to side before you helped him relax by planting a muffled kiss to the nape of his neck.

"hello, love," he finally mumbled, turning slightly to the side before opting to lean his head against yours instead. he was smiling now, appreciating the surprise back hug that lingered as a form of silent support.

"hey," you greeted back, your voice soft. tilting your head to the side of look at him better, sympathy flooded into your eyes at his exhausted features before you asked, your pinky finger reaching up to brush at his blond bangs. "rough day today, huh?"

felix hummed sadly, his voice low but childish upon being asked to vent about his day. he has been waiting for all the pent-up negativity to explode from inside, and he was only ever comfortable with venting in front of you since he knew you wouldn't look at him any differently from it.

"remember the semester project i told you about? no one has done anything so i'm going to have to do half the work, and it's due this weekend so i need to rush it," he said. "and even though i want to tell our professor about it, i know i wouldn't at the end because i don't want my group mates to not get at least some credit."

you listened to him vent about his day. all the people who frustrated him along the way, an occasional slip-in of a funny incident with his friends, and then more terrible people he didn't know how to be mean to. listening to felix talk had always been a joy due to how nice his voice was, but now that you have fallen so madly in love with him, hearing about his day just became part of daily activity you could never miss.

"aww, i'm sorry your day went like this," you said as you pulled away to turn him around. felix was pouting down at you, his hands moving down to your waist to pull you closer to him. you laughed, knowing what he was asking for, and you quickly cupped his cheeks to plant a kiss on his lips.

he immediately smiled. he could never get tired of kissing you—it was like you applied some type of addictive candy to your lips, they were always so sweet and he could never get enough of them.

"i'm feeling much better now," he mused, his eyes sparkling at you with their tender lights.

you rolled your eyes, feigning a dramatic shiver as you squeezed his cheek. "cheesy," you mumbled before leaning in to kiss him again. "just the way i like it."

and felix didn't let you go this time around, his grip on your waist tightening with each smooch of your lips, unable to remove himself from your sweetness. you complied with his request, holding his jaw and tilting your head for a better angle.

just as the kiss got much needier, he suddenly pulled away, earning a whine from you. but when he caught your eyes by searching for him and you realized how much hooded they have become, you clamped your mouth shut to keep the verbal complaint from surfacing. his eyes were brown as the breaking soil, and they impacted you as nature would—beautiful, powerful, and very desirable.

you have seen them like that a few times before, sometimes after midnight and sometimes in the early morning but all of them had been warm, passionate occasions.

"can we have sex?" he asked, a surprise, little pout appearing on his face as he played with your shirt. "i really need you right now."

oh, how dare he look so pretty when he spilled such sinful words with such lustful voices.

"my baby needs helping to unwind?" you asked despite knowing the answer, once again swiping his bangs away from his eyes. he gave you an eager nod then, and you grinned before leaning in to kiss him yet again.

it was much more aggressive this time because this kiss would be leading to something bigger than just a hot makeout session.

besides, felix has been wanting you for the whole day. his only way of releasing his accumulating stress was by daydreaming about being able to be inside you when he gets home, to pound into your hot heat, and to hear your lovely voice whimper his name as your eyes squeeze in bliss because he makes you feel so, so good.

he pulled you onto the bed with him, pulling you by your hands and impatiently tugging you down to his side. you had to break away for a moment to take your shirt off, your heart eagerly punching your chest as you scrambled on top of his legs and straddled his this abdomen.

your hands flew back to his face and you brought your lips back to his, kissing and biting him until you could feel his lips swollen under yours. the tingling sensation of his hands danced across the skin of your back and your stomach, feeling your curve up, and the featherlight realization of your bra straps hanging loosely off your shoulders, waiting for him to rip it off of you was none other than exciting.

you squealed out a laugh when, without you knowing, felix unhooked your bra and it fell in between the two of you. he pulled away to swat the garment away, then he returned his attention to your glorious breasts. he sighed in admiration—it seemed he loved every part of them, from their size to their perkiness.

taking your bud in his mouth, he moaned at the soft roundness of your boob as you squirmed at the way his tongue kept flicking across your nipple. your arms went behind his head, hugging him to your chest at the feeling of your breasts being fondled so softly with his hand and mouth. it was the kind of attention you loved and deserved, and felix had always been giving it to you to the fullest extent.

as he paid his attention to your chest, he could feel blood rush to his hardening member the more you huffed and puffed at the feeling. soon enough, he was poking at your shorts, and you, after gasping at the feeling, ground down on him just to feel some friction.

"ah–fuck–" felix groaned at the pleasant feeling, his eyes closing for a moment before they opened to look at you. he was begging at this point, his cock twitching just at the thought of being able to pound into you senselessly, leaving all the problems in the world at the entrance of you heat. "please let me fuck you, (name)."

"what do you think we've been doing, lix," you said with a faint chuckle, sitting up and taking off your pajama shorts.

seeing that, felix quickly went ahead to untie the strings of his pants and shook it off his legs. you barely caught sight of his hardened member under his boxers before he slipped it off as well, letting his dick spring free. you gulped with a faint smile, knowing he would fit well inside you but anticipating the pleasurable stretch anyway.

he hissed when you grabbed his tip, your thumb running over to spread his pre-cum all over before you got back to your original spot. you casually sucked at your thumb as you positioned yourself, tasting the bitterness of his cum and smiling seductively at him as you sucked your thumb dry.

"god, that's hot," he said through clenched teeth, his head falling back against the headboard and his mouth agape.

the giggle on your face didn't last too long. when you sunk on his length, your eyes widened and your lips parted at the incredible stretch you really should get used to by now. felix had his hands on your hips, guiding you down on him with deep, raspy groans leaving his lips.

when you were finally seated with him slug inside of you, felix reached up to wipe at your eyes, and you huffed out a burst of soft laughter in appreciation of his concern. he smiled at you, utterly in love with the way you leaned against his hand for many reasons, before he kissed you with a hand traveling behind your neck.

without breaking away, you decided to put your thighs to work and started to bring your heat up and down on his cock.

you gasped into his mouth at the first stroke, and the second, the third. and you kept going at a slow pace, both to adjust to his length and to take the feeling to the fullest amount. and every fire that ignited in your chest as his shaft rubbed along your walls made you and felix whine ecstatically.

you looked down at him, finding his careful yet endeared gaze staring up at you. and felix seemed to fall in love with you again, right now with your hair fallen beautifully all over your face and you riding him so sensually, making him feel nothing but pure goodness.

"gosh, i love you so much." he had to say it, his voice hitching suddenly as you clenched around him. "ahh, you feel so good!"

you giggled, your hands going to his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. you went down to kiss his face, starting from his forehead to his eyes, and you moaned contently against his skin when your lips landed on his freckles because felix had thrust up against you.

the wetness kept building, your juices slick around his cock making you feel every inch of it. then you started to rush to feel it more, moving faster to give both you and felix as much friction as you could. his tip was venturing within you deeply, brushing and pressing repeatedly until it finally hit your favorite spot.

you broke away from his mouth to let out a pornographic moan, your head threw back and your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. knowing he had found the sensitive spot within you, felix brought his hands down to your ass and helped you maintain your position just so you could feel the same surge of electricity with each fallen thrust.

you were leaning on him for support, your head pressed against the side of his head as you moaned your delightful pleasures away. and felix took the chance to press his face against your breasts, feeling the pillowy surface but not letting that drown out the way you were taking his cock like your hole was practically made for him.

your thighs desperately going against your exhausted muscles as you chased the orgasm building at your core. "fuck–lix, i can't, i'm close," you whispered next to his ear, your hot breaths fanning against the sensitive skin and making him shiver.

something stirred within him, and he remembered once again his strong desire to fuck you. not like this where you rode him and he occasionally thrusts up to your cunt because he couldn't control himself, but as in him pinning you down and just sexually ramming into you, just hitting your spot again and again so he could get an ample amount of you screaming his name.

you squealed in surprise when he lifted you off of him and flipped you on your back. your hands went up to your head, his small hand just enough to pin your wrists above it. you couldn't move, felix was much stronger than you thought. before you could even comment anything about this sudden action, he inserted himself back into you harshly, causing you to let out a choked gasp.

"felix! i can't take mor–oh fuck," your voice kept being rendered breathless the more his hips snapped against yours, meeting you to the hilt before he dragged it out and going back in again.

he had this concentrated, rapturous expression on his face, indicating that you were doing extremely well in helping him forget his shitty day because now all that filled his mind was you, you, you. your pussy, your sounds, your body, your essence—felix could only care about you and how great you were making him feel.

and he was losing control over himself. you tightness clenching around his senses, blocking him from any sane thoughts that weren't about this exact moment. felix looked down, his hand still pinning yours above your head while his other hand kept your thighs separated for him.

you were loving it, he could tell; you were loving the restrictions just as much as he was enjoying how obedient you were being, just letting him fuck you open like this and still not being able to shut up despite how overwhelming you felt.

"fuck, lix–ahhh—" your vocabularies were reduced; if you knew words before, you didn't. all that managed to come out of your mouth have only been curses, a string of moans, and his name.

felix was enjoying himself way too much, as he should. your fucked out expression and your hoarse voice left a permanent mark in his head; something he had been and will be thinking about whenever he needed.

"shh, we're almost there," he whispered after leaning down to your face. his hand removed from your wrists, and, upon being released, they were quick to play down to his shoulders, going across to hug him to you.

your eyes were faintly teary, causing him to soften, so when he leaned down it was to kiss you instead of simply burying his face at your chest. you kept humming against his mouth, your breath quickening with each snap of his hips until he pulled away just enough for you to let your noises out properly.

"are you close?" he asked, grunting with his lips barely ghosting over yours and his droopy lids covering most of his eyes.

"y–yeah–" you nodded, your eyes shut tight when he went faster to chase your orgasms.

the balloon popped unannounced, leaking and coating your cum all around him, making his dick warm and covered. felix growled out loud, still fucking against you until he hit his own release, hot liquids squeezed out of his tip and mixing in with yours inside your used hole.

he collapsed on top of you when he was done, not pulling out just yet because he wanted to keep his cum—and his dick—inside where it was warm. your arms went tightly around his back to pull his clothed torso close, chest heaving with his. 

"was that okay? that was good, right?" felix asked after a brief moment of rest, still panting rather heavily.

you laughed with his ear pressed against your heart, stroking his hair. "yes, yes that was."

"thank you for making me feel so nice all the time," he pouted, turning his head so his chin poked at your skin. he turned childish again, back to the usual self you loved so much.

"of course," you said. "thank you for making me feel the same as well."

"do you want me to clean you up or should we stay like this for a little?" he asked then, hissing a bit when you tightened around him. he looked up at your grinning face, triumph littered all over the crinkle of your eyes and quirk of your lips, and he gave you a small, lustful glare.

oh, it seemed somebody was asking for round two.

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

-------------------------------------------------

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

---------------

Thanks for reading!!!!!

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