#next part will be up soon!!!

[uisgeart]

Wangji My Brother | Part 2/?

Part 1 <- -> Part 3

[egophiliac]

DOGS

IN

SPACE

[chocostrwberry]

Hanabira

< Part 1 >

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Courtney: I thought you’d quit again? Oscar: No one likes a quitter, Cookie. [Courtney hummed in faint disapproval] Oscar: I could take up some more nefarious things instead? Courtney: Yeah, no. … Oscar: What’s on your mind? Courtney: This n’ that. Oscar: Do I gotta tickle it out of you? ‘Cause I’m still due a little payback. Courtney: [sighs] I’ve been thinking about trying to find out who my parents were. Oscar: Seriously? Courtney: Maybe, yeah. Oscar: Wha-… Courtney: I don’t wanna talk about it. Oscar: Bu-… Courtney: Nope.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THIS THING IS SCUUUFFED AS HELL & ITS ALSO THE BEST THING I HAVE ANIMATED THUS FAR. IM SO IN LOVE WITH EMIZEL. JUST WISH I GAVE HIM MORE STUPID TATTOOS. NEXT TIME THO. NEXT TIME. I ALSO LOVE VEX&VIV SOOOO MUCH. charlies flavor of Deranged is my FAVORITE!!

[lilybug-02]

Establishing shots. My beloved.

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law and his rare friendships (Law and closeness series part 4)

Let's venture into less explored territory. And we will start with no one else but our beloved Kinemon!

They met at Punk Hazard, Kinemon doing some rampage and Law was sent by Caesar to stop him. At first he cut him up into three pieces apparently, but I think Kin is colorizing here a lot.

Because let's take a look at his awesome feats. He might be cut into pieces, but he's still a decent threat despite that! I think Law started by cutting Kinemon in half, then got surprised he still tried to fight him, and then he cut off his head as well only to realize that even the head alone is probably bouncing around as well! So he caught it, but in the meantime the legs already run somewhere else and the torso escaped Law on his way back to lab somehow which is where Brook finds it later. And Law was probably like "screw it, I don't have time for this" and left it be for now. But I bet it wasn't "letting his torso to rot, and feed legs to wild beasts" like Kinemon claims. After all his legs turned out to be just fine lol. And we know by now that Kin's legs just run off on their own aimlessly, so this is probably what actually happened.

And this is how Strawhats find Kin. I guess Kinemon was still causing a lot of trouble despite being only a head. Maybe he tried to bite Law? Anyway, he must have been really *mad* to cut him up into that many tiny pieces. I think Kinemon was behaving like a little shit. It's important to mention Law never did that to anyone else before.

And he attempts to do the same to Tashigi who is also trying to bounce around while being cut in half.

Yeah, Kinemon and Law started off on a great note there. But I think Kin earned Law's respect for that, because this is probably what Kin shouted at him while being cut into smaller and smaller pieces:

And Law shoved his head into some closed off room, instead of giving it to Caesar. I think he was trying to spare him and hoping he can restore him back later on.

As soon as they both end up on Strawhats ship, Kinemon already treats Law with respect! It's no longer "that warlord" but "Law-dono".

It seems that despite what Kinemon says, Law actually earned his respect back there already. He even tried to catch his name or the title to know who he is.

It's so sweet he's already asking Law to give him a ride to Zou and before he can get an answer Luffy butts-in haha.

He's always listening carefully to Law's plan in Dressrosa and keeps closely with his assigned group. And yes, it's implied that Law was the one who strategically seperated the groups.

Kin is the first one to raise a concern to stick to the plan and not waste any time. He understands the stakes but won't venture off on his own, instead making sure the whole group knows what to do. That's because they left before Law finished going over the plan again. Kinemon took it on himself to make sure "they got the memo", so to speak.

Kin's also the one who seems most worried about Law, probably because when he almost rescued him he realized in what kind of terrible state he was. "Answer me!!" there is a lot of concern there he didn't show for any of the Strawhats yet, but he did for Law.

His idea to distract and cause some chaos by disguising himself was also something Law would approve of.

On Barto's ship Kin is already taking care of the dangers ahead of others, because he's aware his friends are still recoving from their injuries.

Kinemon never forgets that Strawhats and Law are in alliance and are two seperate crews. He asks Law specifically for help as well, clearly surprising him with that request. Kin's amazement seems to be very genuine and he is very polite in how he asks for help.

And then alliance happens, they bump fists together I bet Law must have braced himself for it and Luffy declares "Being in alliance means we're friends!". This is the moment Luffy defines what Kinemon and Law's relationship is supposed to be from now on: friendship. And of course Law is annoyed about that, it should be up to him to decide stuff like that! Luffy doesn't care though, pushing Law's boundaries further for him.

Law already takes on his role in the alliance, assuring Kin they will be safe in his submarine and no one will be able to suddenly attack them on his watch. Now this is a turn of 180 degrees, Law takes them as his own personal responsibility from now on, gives emotional reassurance and basically saying "count on me" but with different words. He already succumbed to the fate Luffy bestowed upon him.

And take a look at this. There is team Luffy, team Nekomamushi, Team Inuarashi and Team Kinemon. Do you know what that means? Yes, Law handed the leadership over the group to Kinemon! Meanwhile himself taking the role of a support and protection. And this trend will continue all the way in Wano as well.

Apparently he visited Kinemon at the castle ruins every single day. Most likely worried about his health condition.

Law apologized immediately to Kinemon the moment the other asks what's going on. Even takes the blame for himself, but also takes extra time to reassure Kin that his part of the plan is unaffected and no one knows about the samurais. I think it's implied again that it was Law who seperated the tasks in each group meanwhile taking a supervisor role himself. He told Kinemon to find Akazaya samurais and they had a whole operation going on in the background with gathering supplies of weapons and food, bit by bit, while officially putting the blame on some third party. Knowing Kinemon he wouldn't be smart enough to think of it this way, so Law at the very least helped him organize stuff. Besides we don't see Kinemon running around and making sure everything works out: that's Law actually, checking up with all the groups and resolving any potential crisis situations (like when he warned Sanji of trouble and took it on himself to lead the whole group to safety). Besides we have Sanji's words for proof when Law apologized to Kinemon: "What kind of shoddy operation are you running, Law?!" which is pretty direct in pointing out who the actual mastermind is behind the Wano's battle.

Seeing how Kin also wasn't the smartest at reading the coded picture message about the raid, I think it was originally Law's idea as well that the message should be some sort of code only people involved would understand. The raid picture also mentions meeting up at a port specifically, and that seems to be a reoccuring point plan in every of Law's plans ever since Rocky PORT Incident. Even in Dressrosa and Punk Hazard the chosen meeting points for all seperated groups were told to be specific ports.

When it turns out there was a traitor in the midst of their core team, it's Law who seems to have taken it on himself to dig up information from Hawkins. Interestingly enough every last samurai arrives for the raid despite that every single bridge in the country had been destroyed. I have no evidence but I think it's likely Law helped all those people travel to the "true" meeting spot. After all we didn't see him for days before the raid, and while many fans believed Law turned into a snitch, the raid itself denies it: Law was from the very beginning to the very end on the alliance's side. But then why didn't he take credit for what he did to make the raid a success? Well, he didn't take any credit at all before either, giving it all to Kinemon, so why would he start to take it for himself suddenly?

Here Law rescues the samurais, scolding them for underestimating the sea. Doesn't it look similar to you? Law is rising them up just like Oden did on his execution day. This symbolically proves Law is the actual person carrying the whole battle operation on his back. Just like his full name, Trafalgar Waterloo, should have hinted us all along. His reactions to all the others discussing what's happening are also very telling - Law's the only one not surprised that samurais aren't there yet, that there is a traitor, not even surprised that Kid is there. But he is taken aback about news of Big Mom and Jinbei, because that's some wild cards he didn't know anything about before.

Even though Law protests his submarine isn't samurais garrison, it's pretty clear who samurais themselves think runs their plan in reality. And worthy to notice here: Law no longer calls Kinemon by his full name. It's "Kin" from now on. And how many people did we ever see Law using such an affectionate name for before? With him you're either "something-ya" or a full name basis. Kin is literally the only exception. You can't see it as anything else but affectionate. Throughout Wano they became really close friends.

And of course Law saves Kinemon's skin by coming up with a backup plan on the fly and even decides he will carry the samurais to the back entrance of the island on his submarine. He also allows Kinemon to take the full credit, not really expecting any gratitude. He just sits there in the background, letting others take the spotlight.

And this is a good moment to remind us of what Sengoku told Law about love. It should be unconditional, which means you don't expect anything in return for your help. Law usually operates on "favour for a favour" basis or impersonal alliance level. But in this "alliance" he doesn't even want the credit, doesn't expect anything in return, and breaks his own rule of not calling people in affectionate ways. And does he even get anything for himself from this alliance besides the rise in his own bounty?

Imo there's only one possible conclusion here: Law accepted the condition of the alliance Luffy set up all the way back in Zou, it's supposed to be a friendship. Law indeed fullfilled that condition, he truly became friends with Kin. Of course he still wouldn't admit openly that they're friends, but like always with Law, we need to actually look at his actions and subtext. This friendship wouldn't have happened if friendship with Luffy didn't happen first! After the raid Law doesn't stay at the shogun's palace and instead stays with the ships at the port, but I bet you anything Kinemon ran to him at least once to tell him how grateful he was for his help.

So that's one confirmed friendship of Law we see in the series (besides the one he has with Luffy, but I elaborated on that one all the way back in part 2). The other friendships we can see in the series is that with Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, and Wolf in Law's novel. We know that Law created Hearts Pirates together with them, he doesn't consider Hearts to be his own creation, it's theirs as much as it's Law's. That friendship started off on a sour ground, Penguin and Shachi were bullying Bepo and Law saved him. But they quickly became friends and Law's strength and attitude earned their deepest respect. Penguin and Shachi sometimes allow themselves very cheeky comments ("Captain! You're so sexy now!"), they're also slightly older than him, but despite that they have really big respect for Law and always listen to him, despite sometimes complaining ("Captain got carried away" or "stop him Bepo!!"). They know each other well and as teens they spent a lot of late nights just talking together. They would sacrifice their lives for Law and Law would do the same for them, but he's also not beyond sending them to safety instead and taking all the risk on himself. They often shower Law in compliments, almost like they know he has low self-esteem, but then they know him for 13 years already, of course they would be best friends at this point and know that stuff about him (about his touching trauma probably as well).

Bepo is the only one privileaged with any physical affection, he is Law's safe haven, the last one he allowed himself to keep. The main Hearts also know of Law's past and his full name, as well as the fact he is a D. Of course they also started doing those silly power rangers-like poses when Law introduces his crew and I bet you anything it's a nod to Sora Warrior of the Sea. They're all fanboying the comics together. Law is probably slightly more affectionate with his Hearts than anyone else (which in this case means he allows himself to be a bit more open, but he still keeps some distance from them), but we can see he still acts like a leader for them, trying his best to earn the respect he received. But we also see him worrying about Bepo a lot in Wano when the mink ate a poisoned fish. He almost threw his own raid plan out of the window just because Bepo asked to not leave him alone; clearly they are his firstmost priority. Too bad we don't have that many of their interactions to analyze.

And then we have his friendship with the old man Wolf, inventor from North Blue, who took Law in (spoilers ahead for Law's novel!). At first their relations are mostly "favour for a favour" kind, something that Law knows well because he tends to operate on same basis. So, Law is allowed to stay at Wolf's place if he finds a job and helps with chores and testing the inventions. They take turns preparing the meals. Everything changes when Wolf has an unfortunate accident and Law saves his life. Wolf then asks for a friendship and Law thinks to himself that he can't really refuse a request from someone who doesn't usually do "friendships", he feels honoured with that trust. Wolf still acts as their mentor but it feels more like they became a family. Law is very grateful to Wolf for standing in defense of Penguin and Shachi. Wolf is also the one who teaches young Law how to be a captain and puts it into his head that he needs to take responsibility at all times. In general Wolf acts rather cold and rough, but always shows a kind heart when any of them needs it, and I bet Law took on his habits because that feels a lot like how Law himself acts on many occassions.

Wolf definitely became some sort of a rolemodel for him, but there were also few occassions when Law allowed himself to say some really spoiled and cheeky things to him (like: you do the dishes from now on). Law also helps Wolf make a tough decision: to resign from taking responsibility for his son's actions and not to kill him with his own hands, he literally stops his effort by saying "Family shouldn't kill each other". At the end Wolf gives them a partying gift: a yellow submarine, and encourages Law to go out to seas to look for freedom and experience life as he wants. Even 3 years later both of them think of each other fondly, implying that maybe one day Heart Pirates will return to share stories about their adventures.

That's all the canon provides us. Law generally keeps to himself, but in Law's novel he doesn't seem to have any problem to make friendships, every person he saves becomes eventually his friend, which really gives one more argument that there's no way Luffy would be the exception to that rule. But it becomes clear that the older Law gets the more reserved he becomes and doesn't seek out friendships. He probably wouldn't have perceived Kinemon as his friend if not for the condition of the alliance Luffy applied. And this begs to ask about the elephant in the room: why? Why is he that reserved and why did he allow himself to accept Kinemon as friend in the end? I think he felt it's okay to become friends with Kinemon, because he's a samurai thrugh and through. Even if they win and Kin lives, Law would leave Wano and probably never see him again. I guess that made the decision easier on him to some degree.

I have some ideas about possible reasons why Law avoids any new friendships or affectionate bonds with people and instead tries as much as he can to keep it impersonal. He clearly can be a caring and dedicated friend and I don't think his trauma is the only reason why he avoids people. Because there's no reason anymore (after defeating Doffy and Kaido) to not openly admit he made new friends. I will take a closer look at his possible reasons in the next post.

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Three

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: 13k

Chapter Warnings: angst obviously what would this story be without it, poppy and nico having an overdue conversation, nico moping again with his big sad brown eyes, nico being jealous again, drinking, cursing, meddling friends, being stood up, mentions of controlling parents as always, a little touching maybe a little more kissing too and even more meddling friends

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Two)

A/N: I have nothing to say honestly just hope you enjoy I really don't know why I struggled writing most of this despite knowing what I wanted to do with it I think just figuring out how I want certain conversations to go and how to get from a to b is pure stresssss I'm not entirely in love with it but what can you do also proofread her? I hardly know her

but if you have anything to say pls send it my way lmao I'd really like to hear any thoughts or opinions 💓

Poppy

Poppy was once told by her good friend, Kelsey, that she would be able to tell everything she needed to know about a guy by the way they answered one very simple question. 

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

She thinks about it more often than she really should, if she’s honest with herself, but Kelsey’s rationale behind each potential answer is actually a stroke of rare genius - and Poppy often finds herself applying the logic to most people that she encounters.

Guys who say super speed are the ultimate red flag. No one wants a quick finisher, no matter how fast they may be in any other aspect of life. Some things specifically require time and patience. Sacrificing your partner’s satisfaction all to say you can run the world record fastest 5k is the ultimate ick.

There’s an argument to be made for the endurance choosers, it sure has its perks, but Poppy thinks it’s a boring pick. To be given the option of any superpower, and to choose perseverance, of all things? Get a life. 

Anyone who chooses x-ray vision is a certified pervert, obviously. The same could be said for those wanting to read minds, although most of the guys Poppy has seen in her life struggle to comprehend the things she says in plain words, never mind whatever nonsense is circling through her inner thoughts. 

Those who choose flying are one dimensional, rarely able to see beyond what’s right in front of them, because, if they could, they’d choose the much better option of teleportation.

Who chooses flying when you could just think about somewhere and instantaneously arrive? With your hair in tact and no risk of bumping into any territorial birds.

Teleportation is what Poppy would have picked if anyone would have asked her a week ago, for the mere fact that commuting anywhere is the bane of her entire existence, and if she thinks too hard about it or looks to much into it, it always has been. 

She associates it with sitting in the back of her dad’s Bentley as a child, a tangible, frosty silence lingering in the air between her parents after one of their many even-toned arguments disguised as discussions, the fresh pine scent making her car sick and the leather seats making the back of her thighs sticky. 

Or the fragile bones of her hand being crushed by her mother’s tight grip as they rode the Amtrak over to Manhattan, Priscilla sneering at anyone who dared step too close on the crowded carriage, Poppy being dragged throughout department stores in the name of mother-daughter bonding time, and clutching to a tiny consolation Macy’s bag housing a sparkly lip gloss like her life depended on it the whole way home. 

She thinks of all the hours of her life she’s wasted on the Palisades Parkway, no longer able to enjoy the scenic route whenever she has to drive back to her parent’s house in Alpine after having watched one too many crime shows where a broken down car leads to a girl’s face plastered all over the news.

Even driving to work can feel like hell when the traffic is bad, what should be a 30 minute drive sometimes turning into an hour, Poppy’s fingers cramping around the wheel and her feet itching to touch solid ground after too long.

Teleportation sounds perfect.

And, there’s even a romance element to it. Being whisked away to Paris in the blink of an eye, suddenly sitting outside a boulangerie, decadent, rich hot chocolate on a table in front of her and a plate full of pastries, all because she mentioned a slight craving for a pain au chocolat. 

Teleportation has always been the only correct, green-flag answer to the question. 

Until Poppy properly considered time travel, that is.

The concept of it has always been a little too much or her to handle - too many strange loopholes, too many bad examples from the sci-fi movies her brother had loved as a kid. Travelling back in time to when her parents were her age and accidentally capturing her adolescent father’s attention à la Marty McFly? Sounds like hell and horror to Poppy. 

But that was before she screwed everything up.

If she could have any superpower right now, currently weighed down with the burden of hindsight - which people have always told her is a funny thing, but she thinks is actually somewhat diabolical - she would pick time travel a thousand times over.

Because if human beings have a specific part of their brain that is dedicated to forcing them to sit and stew on their every poor decision for days on end - lets them rethink and regret everything until they’re blue in the face, and can’t think of anything other than how idiotic they have been - it should also offer the kindness of being able to go back and change what they so royally fucked up.

That’s what Poppy thinks, at least, as she throws herself down onto her bed, her back hitting the duvet in a whoosh and all she can do is stare at the ceiling and wonder how and when she became such a certified moron.

There’s a part of her that suspects it’s in her genes. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Nature and nurture, she was born and raised to be a full blown fool.

Poppy comes from a long line of privilege, and while it does take a certain element of intelligence to amass the wealth her family has, it also tends to go hand in hand with ignorance in its many forms.

Behind every fortuitous business move her father makes are a million other mistakes - failed ventures, bad investments, shoddy pieces of advice accepted from the untrustworthy snakes he surrounds himself with. Hidden beneath every rung of the social ladders her mother has managed to climb, there are the ugly faux-pas’ slipping through the cracks of a former, more unsavoury life she can never run too far from. And her brother - well, she suspects he’s just an idiot, there are no two ways about it.

She knows that she needs to stop blaming her family, though. This time, it’s all her.

She can’t blame her father for the way she overthinks, the man who makes every decision in life with the littlest regard for how anyone else feels about it. She can’t blame her mother for the way she places such little value on herself, the woman who walks into every room like she owns it and refuses to let anyone make her think otherwise.

Except maybe she can.

If she had the nerve to talk to a therapist, they might disagree - might say her overthinking comes from her dad’s lack of communication skills, a part of her brain always filling in the gaps of a half-assed, other side of any conversation with him. Or they might say her insecurities come from her mom constantly putting Poppy down while telling her to be more sure of herself - stop slouching, Poppy, no one will take you seriously with the posture of a candy cane.

She’d love to know where her need to repress her feelings so deep that she becomes an impenetrable, cold, dark fortress comes from. The need to push and shove when someone tries to get too close, because God forbid anything is ever easy when it comes to her affections.

It would have made the past 4 days since Nico had walked into her apartment and kissed the life out of her a whole lot easier. 

4 days spent reminiscing, rethinking and regretting every single thing she had said and done since their lips parted, since he had put his heart on the line and she’d whacked it away, full swing, as if too desperate for the victory of a last-bat home run.

If she could time travel, she’d do the whole thing over.

-

“Don’t go on that date, Mohn.”

She had read the words on his lips before they registered through her ears, the sound of her blood rushing throughout her body occupying every sense for a brief moment.

What the hell is going on?

Nico had kissed her. He’d grabbed her, pulled her into him, and she’s pretty sure he had made her heart stop for a good second - there’s no other justifiable reason for the way it had been reverberating against her ribcage ever since. 

And then he stood before her, a desperate, pleading projection playing in his dark irises, lips still slick from where her own had just been, cheeks flushed, shoulders rising with subtle panting breaths, waiting for a response to a question she couldn’t even remember hearing.

“W-what?” She’d stuttered, blinking hard and shaking her head as if to rattle her brain into whatever semblance of cognisance she could muster.

Nico had kissed her, and then wanted to talk? As if she had the brain power left for any kind of discussion after that?

He seemed proud of the mess he had made of her, lips lifting at one side, drawing her gaze immediately to every movement they made, so focused on the memory of how pillowy-soft they had felt against hers that she didn’t notice him stepping a little closer, raising a large hand to tuck her hair behind her ear until she flinched at the contact.

“Sunday, Poppy,” he had uttered, unfazed by her skittishness, “Your date, don’t go.”

She had blinked again, completely overwhelmed on every front. She could still taste him on her tongue, he was so close she could smell his cologne, tunnel vision only seeing him in front of her and the hand that cupped the side of her face in her peripheral, her heartbeat echoing through her skull and every nerve, every slight hair on her body, standing as if trying to close the distance between his body and hers.

It was the sensory overload that made her go against all other instincts.

“I can’t.” Her voice had sounded like it hadn’t been used in weeks, croaky and unsure, her next words stammered, “I can’t not go, I mean. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go, Poppy,”

“No, I do.” That had sounded a little surer, the fog in her brain slowly clearing only for something more tumultuous to pass through in it’s place. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Nico blinked once, then again, frustration clear in the furrow of his thick brows as he seemed to stew on his next words, desperate to say the right thing. There was a prolonged, tense beat, before he had asked, “Have you ever thought we could be more?”

“More?”

“More than friends.”

If her heart hadn’t stopped when he had kissed her, it must have stopped then.

His back straight, eyes looking directly into hers, a hopeful, inquisitive gleam shining from within them - he had never seemed so sure of something for as long as she had known him.

Poppy couldn’t stop the little voice in her head questioning, where the hell has this come from?

“Have you?” She had asked with a eyre of disbelief.

 Not once in the years she had known him had he ever made it seem like they could be more. There had always been an unspeakable, undeniable barrier between them. They were friends. They’d always been friends. Just friends.

Friends who spent most of their free, personal time together, friends who bought each other sentimental gifts they’d never get for anyone else, who shared intimate details about their lives and their pasts, and kissed each others heads like a goodbye ritual. Friends who broke each other’s hearts, seemingly beyond repair, without explanation.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I mean,” He had paused, breaking eye contact for a second as if wracking his brain for the right answer, sensing a teetering tension between the two of them. “Yeah. Yes. I have.”

She had narrowed her eyes at him, weighing up the possibility in her mind that she wouldn’t have liked any response he gave to her, every prospective answer causing a flood of doubt and uncertainty to crash in rushing, destructive waves through her mind. “Since when?” She’d asked, trying to level her bite.

If he’d ever thought they could be more, what the hell have they been doing all this time?

“Since I met you, I think,” he had shrugged.

Wrong answer, again.

“And you only bring it up when I have a date with someone else?”

She watched a series of antithetical emotions pass through his features, understanding, confusion, acceptance, denial, resilience, cowardice. He had seemed to find the small margins between all of them, when he had come back with, “It’s not because of your date, Poppy.”

“Then why?” She tilted her head as she continued to analyse him, again not sure what she was looking for, or what she wanted to find. That something tumultuous was already whirling within her, too late to be stopped, and Nico could seemingly see the warning signs.

“Why are you getting mad at me, right now?”

“I’m not mad,” she had denied, not even knowing if she was lying or not, “I’m confused. 2 weeks ago, we weren’t even talking, Nico-,”

“You said you forgave me for that.”

“I didn’t-.” She’d cut herself off before she could say something that would upset him, the conversation spiralling so far out of control from the momentary bliss he had provided only minutes ago - but she was too far up shit’s creek without a paddle, there was no turning back. She’d been wanting to have a proper conversation with Nico all week, what better time than the middle of the night on what was now his birthday? “That’s not exactly what I said.”

He had taken a step back, lips parting with an unreleased gasp, the once-hopeful glint in his eyes transforming into hurt. “You don’t forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that either,” she sighed, wanting answers, not to cause him anguish. “Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then tell me what the hell is wrong? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t understand where this has come from, Nico! You come in here and kiss me out of nowhere and tell me not to date other people and I’m just supposed to blindly follow along when I don’t get what the hell is happening with you!”

“I think me kissing you makes it pretty obvious what I want to happen, Mohn.” He had tried to ease the tension, his voice level and steady, stepping forward with his hands raised in an attempt to calm her, but she had taken a slight step back, clearly unaffected. 

“It doesn’t.” She’d stopped looking at him at that point, keeping an eye on his feet to watch his encroaching steps. “Nothing about you is obvious. You don’t tell me anything and all I can think about is what I did wrong.”

If he couldn’t see the tears pooling at her lashes, he had to have heard the break in her voice - a sure indicator that she was close to crying - but his steps had stopped, feet seemingly stuck to their place on the hardwood flooring of Poppy’s apartment, and she could feel her heart shatter knowing he wasn’t persisting again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tries to reassure her, but it’s no use.

Maybe she would have believed him if he’d held her while he said it, transferred the meaning through touch to her skin, gripping her with every word until she truly understood the weight of them.

“It had to have been something. You don’t just stop wanting to know a person for no reason, Nico, so what was it?” She made her way to her couch, perching on the edge of the seat with her knees pressed together, and looked over to where he remained standing.

She could feel her temper flaring again. 

How could he have the nerve to do this to her - to turn her world upside down in a matter of minutes - and not have the answers she needed to accept it?

“Poppy-,”

“I need to know. I can’t drop it and forget about it, and I’m sorry that I made it seem like I could, but if you want us to move on from this, if you want to come here and kiss me like that, and tell me you don’t want me seeing other people, I need to know what happened.”

“I-,” Nico sighed heavily, shoulders drooping, any confidence and bravado he had displayed after their kiss now a distant memory. “I don’t know.”

She had an immediate, striking thought, that maybe if she asked closed questions, he could give her an answer, and so, with misplaced courage, she asked, “Was it her?”

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Did she ask you to stop talking to me?”

It was a thought that had been plaguing her for longer than she’d like to admit - unable to shake the idea that maybe Talia had seen one of the texts she had sent, had gone through Nico’s phone and seen any of their older messages, any photos he might have kept on his phone, maybe a memory had come up from snapchat, maybe someone had mentioned Poppy and her curiosity had been piqued. 

Poppy had always thought if she was dating someone, and they had a Poppy, she might feel some type of way about it. 

But her and Nico were just friends.

Nico rounded the couch, sitting on the cushion beside Poppy, their knees knocking as he reached into her lap and took her shaking hands in his.

“Do you really think I’d stop talking to you just because someone asked me to?” Their eyes had met again, sadness brewing in the dark coffee colour surrounding his dilated pupils, and a glassy film coating her own. “Poppy, I would never.”

“I don’t know what to think, Nico, because you won’t tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense! I try wrapping my head around it, try coming up with some kind of explanation, but nothing I say is going to change what I did to you, Poppy.”

Her question before had gotten her an honest response, had elicited something real and undeniable within him - he’d never stop talking to her because someone asked him to. So it was his own decision, subconscious or not. Maybe she could help dig further, she thought.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked after a beat.

“I,” Nico pondered over it before rushing his answer, a wave of emotion flashing across his face before his eyes locked on hers, ready to let her in. “Because I wanted to.”

That was a start - a simple question, a straightforward answer. 

“Was that the first time that you wanted to?”

“No.”

Poppy could feel some semblance of confidence coming back. Closed questions, concrete answers, she could keep this up.

“When was the last time you wanted to kiss me?”

She could have asked the first - she sure as hell wanted to know it, but if he’d thought of being more the entire time they’d known each other, there was a lingering possibility there were many times - and they would be there until sunrise if they started from the beginning.

“Finnegan’s.” 

“The bar?”

“We went there when we came back after we crashed out of the playoffs, do you remember?”

She remembered.

It had only been a couple of days before Nico had left for his summer back home in Switzerland.

Their loss in Carolina had been devastating, the boys came back broken and defeated, and all just wanted to drown their sorrows before they broke for their off-season. Poppy had been out with Nia and Kelsey and a few other friends at another bar when Jack had responded to her instagram story, saying they’d be at the Irish pub that was a staple within the team, and she should come over and join them.

She had made her way over pretty late, wanting to make sure her friends were okay without her, and arrived when most of the boys were completely shit-faced, past the point of tears and moping and deep into a mass state of hysteria and loud jubilation for the successes along the way.

She had found Nico in a booth in the far corner of the bar, head slumped over the back, eyes seemingly tracing the cracks in the ceiling until she crawled into the bench behind him, leaned over with her elbows resting on either side of his head, and took up his entire view. 

“What’cha doin’?” She’d asked, lips twisting at the sight of his dizzy eyes trying to correct themselves to focus on her. 

He’d quickly given up, pressing his eyes closed to shut out the risk of nausea taking over, the outer corners crinkling, the sides of his nose scrunching and his eyelashes fanning a shadow over his cheekbones - her own eyes were level with his lips, so he couldn’t really hide the way they curved at the quick glimpse of her.

“Suffering,” he had muttered, squinting one eye open to catch a brief, upside down glance of her. Nico was never this down after a few drinks. He was giggly, he was loud, he was touchy and clumsy - he was never the hide away in the corner sad type. “Wanna join me?”

“Always.” She affirmed, making her way around to his side of the booth and sliding in beside him until her bare thigh pressed against the somewhat scratchy linen of the pants he wore. 

“I’m probably not the best company tonight,” He remained in the same position, neck craning so the base of his head could rest atop the back of the seat, and his eyes closed - giving Poppy the perfect opportunity to properly look him over.

The few moments they’d had together, alone, over the past few weeks, he’d been pent up, stressed, overworked and on the brink of eruption, so this was the first time in a long time she’d managed to catch him without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Only, that weight wasn’t so easy to shift.

She saw it in the bags under his eyes, in the unkempt playoff beard he was yet to shave off, in the stuttered way his chest rose and fell with his attempts at deep, calming breaths. 

As she watched him, the corner of her lip tucked between her teeth in contemplation, she knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better about this. He just had to feel it out, process it in his own way without her interference - but she wanted to be there, at least.

And as much as she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he did the best he could, and led his team through one of their strongest seasons in recent franchise history, she wanted to provide him comfort in the quiet, too.

“I don’t mind.”

And so, with little trepidation, she placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and rested her head next to it, glancing up to see the push of a dimple forming on his cheek as his arm stretched around her and welcomed her into his warm embrace.

“You wanted to kiss me then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Didn’t seem like the right time, though,” he followed up with an answer to a question she hadn’t even asked, yet. “I was leaving too soon and I didn’t want you to think I’d just kissed you because I was drunk and upset.”

Her eyes moved to his lips, a question for herself whirling around in her head. Would she have wanted him to kiss her then? What would have happened in the aftermath? Where would they be now? Would she have thought that? Would she have spent her summer stewing over what it meant, and how his lips had felt against hers?

Before she had much time to think it over, Nico continued, being spurred on by such a distinct memory that he was rolling towards the answer she had been waiting for, and she wasn’t going to stop him to try and decipher her own feelings.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I went home, thinking about wanting to kiss you, or not kissing you, and what it all would mean, and I kept trying to distract myself thinking I could just figure it all out when I came back here but then I met Talia, and I felt wrong for thinking about you when I had her.”

That had made sense. Nico was always a guy that would do the right thing. If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t think of the prospect of something with someone else, even if that someone was Poppy, and that something was a culmination of years of pent up feelings finally coming together to form something potentially wonderful.

She didn’t quite need or want to hear the rest. Didn’t want to hear how he’d gone looking for a distraction, and found just that. 

Nico was loyal, and for him to maintain that essence of himself, he had to ignore the possibility of Poppy. Some subconscious part within him saw her as a threat to the stability he had with the perfect girl from back home, and he boxed her away to make room for what could be with Talia.

It stung, but he was right. Neither of them could change what had already happened.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

She’d nodded after only a second, barely even thinking about it.

Jack’s words from New Years Eve rang through her, suck it up and move on.

Nico had his reasons, she had her answers. He wasn’t bored of her, wasn’t tired of her or annoyed by her. He’d been so caught up by his unspoken, untranslated feelings for her that he twisted himself into untangle-able knots that were only just starting to loosen up enough to be picked apart.

“Could you maybe say it?”

“Yeah, I could.” she had said through trembling lips, the hurt in his voice burrowing through her eardrums, lodging itself in her own throat, and dripping slowly but surely into the depths of her chest. “I will.” She had to be more sure, needing to erase any doubt she had planted within him. “I do.”

“You do?”

He still held her hands in his from when he had sat down, palms warm and slightly perspirant from his tight grip around her knuckles.

“I forgive you.”

His mouth twitched into a shaky smile, his eyes catching the soft light and twinkling with emotion, and she definitely wanted to kiss him, then.

She had wondered if this is what he felt when he’d kissed her before, this burning need. Her fingers twitched in his hold, her heart thudded in her chest, and her lips parted in anticipation, until she could finally slam the breaks on her torpedoing thoughts.

“It’s just a lot to process, and I don’t really know how I feel.”

She had wished she could take it back as soon as the words left her mouth, and Nico’s features had folded as he took them in. He broke eye contact almost immediately, head dropping to look down at their hands until he released hers back into her lap. 

“I get it.” He uttered, forcing a smile as he glanced back up at her, briefly. “I sprung this on you out of nowhere, I’m s-,”

“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted before he could go there, knowing it would send her brain into overdrive if he let even the thought of regret fester between them, “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to be sorry about it.”

Relief washed over the both of them in a warm, steady stream as he nodded, leaning into the back of the couch, legs spreading as an elongated sigh wracked through his torso. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and Poppy’s eyes flickered to the flex of his fingers, the strain of his wrist, the flash of protruding veins where his sleeve had pulled up with the stretch of his movements. 

His eyes closed, and she took him in just like she had that night in Finnegan’s bar.

She’d had an urge then, a desire even, to provide comfort - to share his burdens, make him forget the pain he had just endured, wash it all away with encouraging words, gentle touches. A shoulder to cry on, two ears to listen, and, albeit she didn’t entirely know it at the time, a whole heart that was his for the taking.

And take it, he did, held it all summer, bent it all sorts of ways out of shape up until New Years Eve, and it was still in his hands. Smushed, dented, squeezed to within an inch of his life, her heart was his.

It was up to her now to figure out what she wanted him to do with it. 

“I made a promise to my mom about the date, Nico, I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact he had maybe been a little too lost in the moment to make such a crazy demand of her. 

“And I think maybe we both need a little time to properly think about what is happening here.”

“Time?” He practically shot up, alarm in his eyes.

“We’ve barely been apart all week, Nico, I think that might be why we’re both so,” she struggled for the right word - pent up, emotional, strung out, “Intense.”

She had known she was emotional, overthinking to the point of ruin, but maybe he was too. Maybe that’s what had led to the kiss, to the outburst of sentiment. They were both in the depths of a pressure cooker of emotions, and some space might do them good to gain a little clarity.

Maybe with a little more time to think on it, to consider what he was admitting to, have a little breathing room, and act more on something concrete than a fleeting in-the-moment feeling, he might change his mind. He deserved the opportunity to do so, she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“How much time do you think you would need?”

“I’m driving up to my parent’s house on Friday, so I would have been away for most of the weekend anyway, maybe we check back in on Monday and see where our heads are at?”

“4 days,” he muttered as if he’d just counted them in his head. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?” He had nodded in response, and there was something like hope that lingered between them, sharing small smiles and gazing through glassy eyes. “You’ll be so busy you won’t even get the chance to miss me.”

She believed it to be true - Nico had his family over, would be spending the latter end of the day with them, and had 2 big home games in a row to worry about. Poppy would be the last thing on his mind.

If she had blinked in the moment, she might have missed the way his observation slipped to her lips, lingered there for a brief second, and glanced back up to flicker between her eyes again. “Not possible.”

“Poppy, have you suffered some kind of brain injury I don’t know about?” Nia’s voice rings through the speaker of the phone pressed to her ear, already supposedly-styled hair fanned out around her as she lays staring at the ceiling, willing herself to get up and go before she’s late.

No matter how much she doesn’t want to go on this date, her mother will kill her if she hears anything other than a glowing review. On time, preened to perfection, polite and sociable. 

“Maybe I hit my head in my sleep at some point,” she thinks out loud, glancing back to the sharp edges of her bedside table and wondering if she could have thudded into it in the night.

Surely she would have a scar or a bruise.

“You must have,” Nia agrees, “That’s the only logical explanation why you’d ever consider telling the guy you’ve been hung up on since you first met him that you need time to think about how you feel,”

“Ni,” Poppy groans, “I called you for advice, not a lecture.”

“If you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, and you my friend, are a dumbass.”

“In my defence-,”

“Nope!” Poppy doesn’t know what Nia is doing on the other end, but she hears something clatter as if being slammed down on a table in protest, “There is no defence, you’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t know how I felt about it, Ni,” Poppy sighs, sitting up and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know why so much of her time tonight has been wasted trying to look so good when she doesn’t even want to. When she’d gone to visit her parents, her mother had practically given her a full blown rundown of the guy she was meeting.

Tucker Lyon, she can’t help to instinctively roll her eyes at just his name, works in investment grade finance for one of the Big 4 - she hadn’t cared enough to ask which one. His family are property people, her mom had said, and own enough Manhattan real estate to hold some serious power. Priscilla had met his mother years ago at some luncheon in the city, and apparently the two had been in cahoots since then to set their children up.

Poppy doesn’t want to be set up with some walking red flag, biting her tongue over a plate of food too small to satisfy her hunger while he mansplains stocks and shares to her.

She wants to be in whatever bar the guys are holed up in, tucked under Nico’s arm, side practically glued to his, sipping cocktails and celebrating him like he deserves to be celebrated.

But instead, she can admit, she has been a royal idiot.

“I still don’t know, it’s all come at me full force and I don’t understand my feelings.”

“Bullshit!” Nia scoffs, “You knew you were into him the second he first flashed those dimples your way.”

She isn’t entirely wrong.

Poppy had once harboured a slight crush on him. In the very early stages of their friendship. One small enough that when she realised it was completely one-sided - and she was being delusional to ever think his cute nickname for her and his insistence on spending time only with her was anything more than his attempt to make a friend - she could swallow it down until it was barely anything.

She trained her heart not to stutter when he approached her, told her brain to shut up when he flashed her one of those perfect, all consuming smiles, and could cross her arms to restrain her hands from wanting to hold his whenever they walked side by side.

She’d become so good at suppressing her feelings, she’d forgotten she had them.

She had forgotten all the times they had hung out alone over the years, never second guessing all the looks and the touches, the times he’d let her stay over if it got too late to go home alone, and the times he’d waltz into hers like he owned the place.

She’d forgotten when she had seen him with Talia, always claiming the feeling in her gut was one of loss and reminiscence, not envy and bitterness.

She’d forgotten when the Hughes brothers had helped her move a couple months ago, and Luke had questioned the amount of Nico he was helping to scatter throughout her apartment. Pictures on her bookshelf, pictures stuck to her fridge with souvenir magnets from Swiss gift shops, a couple hoodies, Devils branded shorts and big t-shirts of his he’d come across in the boxes. 

“I didn’t realise you and Cap were so close,” Luke had picked a frame out of one of the boxes, the picture of Nico and Poppy at the Halloween party inside, and waved it in her direction as she stood with her hands on her hips, figuring out if she wanted to alphabetise or colour code the books she was displaying. 

“Huh?” Poppy tilted her head towards the tall boy, watching as he shook his curls back into place and ran a hand through them. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat lugging her boxes upstairs, and now that everything was finally moved, Jack had gone to get them food, and Poppy and Luke were getting started on unpacking the easy stuff. She looked to the picture in hand, reaching over and taking it to get a closer look. “I guess we were, I don’t really know.” She wasn't a good enough actress to properly pull off the nonchalance she was aiming for.

“You don’t know?” Luke scoffed, rifling through other pictures in the box - all framed, mostly of her and Nico, some just the two of them, some of them in groups, but always side by side. Always grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got like a shrine in here, PJ,”

“It’s not a shrine,” she had argued, “You don’t keep pictures of your friends? Sounds kind of cold, if you ask me, Moosey.”

“I keep pictures on instagram and my phone like a normal person.” He chuckled.

“Generational gap, you kids are done for when the cloud goes down, you know. Physical media is forever.”

“You sound like my mom.” Luke jibed, and true to his nature, unable to stop himself before he inadvertently crossed a line, he asked with a weird wiggle of his eyebrows, “So, you wanna keep Nico forever, huh?”

“Shut up, Luke.” If Poppy had something soft enough, she would have thrown it at his head. The photo frame in hand seemed like overkill, and she didn’t want to hurt the kid, just make him stop. She didn’t much like talking about him, what they once had, what they once were. Even if he did have the wrong impression of what they were. It was upsetting, and she didn’t want to get upset - not in front of Luke. “You can keep those in the box.”

Luke had reached out for the frame in Poppy’s grasp, had watched as she hesitated giving it back, as she looked down and took in the huge smiles on her and Nico’s faces, and as she made the decision not to put this one back. Maybe she could phase it out, wait until she took a nicer, more meaningful picture with someone else before she replaced that one.

“I’ll keep this one out. I look cute.”

"Sure." His sarcasm was not entirely appreciated.

She had heard him chuckle to himself as she stood the frame on one of the shelves, placing it between a scented candle she had no intention of ever lighting and a small faux lavender plant. Not shrine-like at all.

She’d forgotten about any suppressed feelings until Nico kissed her.

Until he opened up Pandora’s box, releasing all her pent up emotions to roam freely, creating chaos and causing havoc through every corner of her entire existence. 

For the past 3 days, she’s thought about him with everything she has done. 

On Thursday afternoon, sat alone in her office, going over emails and wondering what he would be up to with his family. Was he happy, were they having fun, did he think about her for a second?

On Friday evening, driving alone on the long winding roads to her parent’s house and listening to the commentary for the game on the radio. Making it to the house in time for the 3rd period, and seeing the team celebrate. Was he well rested, excited for his family to watch him play at home, did he look up into the staff suite at the Rock and wish she was there cheering him on?

On Saturday, retreating to her childhood bedroom after another tense family dinner, snuggling up with the dogs on her bed as she watched the game. Was he beating himself up, had he gone straight home on his own after the loss, did he have the same urge to call her as much as she wanted to call him?

Did he, on any of those nights, lay awake thinking about that kiss?

About how right it had felt? How he had exerted his subtle dominance over her with such ease, large hands encompassing her face and holding her to his lips like his life depended on it?

Did he think about where it could have gone if she hadn’t shut him down? Where they could be if he’d made a move before?

She’s been thinking about it. Non-stop thinking about it.

Thinking about that kiss, and the possibility of others - the moment in the bar, all the other potential moments he had wanted to kiss her and hadn’t. The fact that maybe her feelings had never been one sided, and she’s wasted years pushing them down for nothing.

“Do you think I made a mistake not cancelling this date?” She asks her friend in a moment of vulnerability, her mind reeling with the possibility that she has already fucked up what could be.

“No.” Nia assures her, surprisingly. She’s been calling her an idiot all night, what does she mean, ‘no’? “I think he needs to sweat a little, let him think about you out tonight with another guy, and come tomorrow, his mind will be made up.”

“You don’t think we might be overestimating how much it bothers him?”

“Don’t make me call you a dumbass again, Pop.” Poppy can hear the rolling of her best friend’s eyes through the phone. “And send me a picture of your outfit before you leave.”

Nico

Nico has never been so physically uncomfortable in his life.

For a man who plays contact sport for a living - has played it for a good chunk of his existence, and has suffered countless knocks and injuries, slept in one too many uncomfortable positions in planes, buses, trains and even hotel beds, and who’s face has had more than enough encounters with the wrong end of a pair of skates - that is saying a lot.

But every inch of him, every fibre of his entire being, feels irritated in some way.

It’s a feeling like unforeseen static shocks passing over every surface of his skin. Like little bugs crawling all over him and he can’t swat them away. Like random strands of fine hairs that can’t be seen by the naked eye but God, can he feel them. He feels them everywhere.

From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he feels something prickling, stinging, burning. 

Itchy.

Like a scratch he can’t reach in the very middle of his back.

And it’s not like he doesn’t know what it is.

He’s felt it ever since he left Poppy’s apartment in the early hours of Thursday morning. He had hardly slept, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours in before his alarm shrilled from where it charged on his nightstand. 

He has tried to use the same coping mechanisms that get him through his bouts of homesickness - where he closes his eyes and tries to provoke a memory for each sense.

He pictures the views from one of his many hikes, endless fields of green grass, crystal clear lakes, winding footpaths and mountains that stretch as far as the eye can see. He imagines gathering around a fondue table back in his favourite restaurant, and can smell the freshly baked bread, can taste the melt-in-the-mouth flavour once it’s been dipped in oozing, melted cheese. He can feel the softness of the freshly washed sheets back in his childhood bedroom and can hear the chorused chirps of the birds outside his window in the early mornings. 

It’s a technique that has helped ground him in the past, and he had thought that maybe if he applies the same logic, it will dull the ache in his fingertips that yearn to reach for his phone and text the girl who has asked him for space.

If he thinks hard enough, he can still taste the sweet but subtle vanilla of Poppy’s lip balm. He can smell the fresh-cotton essence of her laundry detergent, can hear the melodic sounds she had hummed into his lips, can feel the softness of her skin on the pads of his fingers, can see, clear as day, the dazed expression etched into her features like she had gotten caught up in the fantasy too.

If it wasn’t so easy for him to mentally transport himself back, he wouldn’t have been able to make it 4 days without seeing her. 

He had known it would be hard, but, thankfully, he thinks he got himself enough of a fix to make it to Monday.

He’d taken all he could with just one press of his lips to hers, had taken more of Poppy than he had ever dared to take before, and his subconscious was clinging onto it for dear life, hoping with everything in him she could decide to give him more.

4 days.

He has never known time to be so cruel. For it to drag out every minute like it was an hour.

If his life had a remote control, best believe he would be jamming the hell out of the fast forward button. 4x speed, skip to the next chapter, not wanting or needing to know what happened in the in-between.

He’s always thought himself to have patience - good things come to those who wait, after all - but this had become the ultimate test.

He had tried to immerse himself in whatever was going on each day, hoping they would pass quicker, less painfully, but it had been no use.

His birthday had passed by in a dizzying blur. He’d had a late morning skate, had come home to his family waiting for him, had gone to dinner with them, caught up over Italian food in one of his favourite spots by his apartment, and had driven his parents, his sister and her boyfriend back to their hotel with the promise of dedicating some time to them before the game on Friday.

Every single thing had reminded him of her.

Being at the Rock and wondering where in the building she might be, and if she was reminded of him with the littlest things. If she was thinking about him, what she was thinking about him. Seeing his family, imagining her place at the table as they all exchanged laughter and stories over pasta and wine. Thinking about what she might contribute to the conversation, how she would get along with his sister, how they’d gang up on him and poke fun, but she’d hold his hand under the table and squeeze to let him know it was all in good humour.

In the locker room after the win against the Blackhawks, trying his best to get involved in the celebrations but just wanting to call her, to hear that she had watched, and was proud of him and the team. And even after the loss against the Canucks, he wanted to hear the same. He wanted to go straight to her place, the passenger seat of his car painfully empty as he drove himself home in complete silence. 

And he had tried his best not to get too into his head about the whole space thing.

Poppy was right, after all. Things had gotten intense.

He had been intense - marching over to her place and kissing her out of nowhere. As right as it had felt, it was stupid. It was hotheaded and impulsive and it wasn’t considerate of her feelings.

But, God, he was so caught up on her he couldn’t help himself. He should have seen in the days they had spent together prior that they needed to speak more about everything before he threw himself at her like a neanderthal. 

He’d only considered what conclusion he had reached, and as much as his conversation with the guys on the plane gave him an idea of Poppy’s mindset, some words needed to be exchanged before he planted one straight on her. The whole thing could have gone so much better if he just knew how to communicate everything with her properly.

Even before the kiss. Before New Years, before Talia, before Summer - if he knew how to speak about his developing feelings for her, this whole mess could have been avoided.

He wouldn’t be sat alone in a bar, yet again, as his friends surround him, partaking in the celebrations that are supposed to revolve around him, wallowing in self pity.

He wouldn’t be thinking about Poppy, out in some fancy restaurant somewhere else in the city, with some stick-up-his-ass loser who doesn’t deserve a second of her time, and imagining her giving him one of those earth shattering smiles - the one where her the outside of her eyes crinkle in the corners, and every time he sees it he imagines the lines settling there as she ages, and it’s always a version of the two of them, old and grey, side by side, smiling together.

He imagines her taking him back to her apartment, curling up with him on the couch Nico helped her haul up the stairs after she had found it for crazy cheap off of some sketchy ad on Facebook marketplace. He sees her slowly replacing all those pictures she has of her and Nico with pictures of her and him, phasing him out of her space like she would eventually phase him out of his life.

He thinks about her taking him to her bedroom - the one he had yet to see in her new apartment, but imagines it’s just like her old one; way too many pillows and throws, a thick, plush duvet that looks like she’s climbing into a cloud, and a beat up stuffed toy her grandmother had given her when she was young. 

He doesn’t want to wish that Poppy is currently welcoming someone into her life that doesn’t suit her, but he can’t help himself.

He hopes this guy is late - and doesn’t even apologise for it. He hopes he orders off the menu for her, or criticises her choice of wine for not pairing with her choice of food like a complete snob. He hopes he’s awful to wait-staff. He hopes he’s type of guy who writes a suggestion on the tip line of his receipt instead of leaving a minimum of 20%. He hopes he chews with his mouth open, spits when he talks and scrapes his knife along the ceramic of his plate as he cuts his food, causing that toe curling sound that makes Poppy want to scream.

He hopes he doesn’t offer her his jacket, because she always refuses to take one out. He hopes he doesn’t think to give her a piggy back, because she always wears shoes out she knows she doesn’t want to walk in, but always wants to walk home if it’s nice out. He hopes he walks on the inside of the sidewalk, leaving her to the dangers of walking roadside, and walks too quick for her to keep up with little regard for how she likes to take her time on a night and stretch the evening out. 

He even hopes he smokes. Poppy hates smokers. And if, God forbid, they kiss, he’ll have smoker’s breath, and she won’t want to do it again. 

She won’t stand in front of him, eyes glazed over, lashes fluttering, brows furrowing, lips still pouting and fingers twitching to reach back out, yearning for more.

She won’t even kiss him back.

Not like she had kissed Nico. Not like she had clutched at his shirt like she wanted to hold him close to her forever. He wouldn’t get to hear that sweet, subdued sound she had made when his tongue had swiped tentatively at hers, or feel that slight pressure of when her lips had closed around it, sucking almost at the muscle before opening back up to allow for more of a taste.

No one else can get that.

No one else will savour it like Nico has, thinking about is for days on end, replaying the moment over and over until he has perfect recall of every small detail.

It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t shared much detail about this date, Nico thinks as he swirls the ice around his empty drink, sat right at the bar away from the sectioned-off area that Timo had rented out for the party.

If he knew more about it - about the who, about the where - he probably would be in a cab by now, knowing he was crossing a line but unable to do anything about it, his will outweighing any common courtesy just as it had a few nights ago. Or he would have spent the last few days in a google deep-dive, trying to figure out the kind of man her mother would approve of. Enough to set her up, at least - he doubts Priscilla Jensen entirely approves of anyone.

Nico finally makes eye contact with the bartender, and as she starts to make her way over, he feels like a divine intervention occurs - an arm falling onto the bar top beside his, a glimmer of metal flashing into his dark eyes - the reflection bouncing from a bracelet that is welded around the base of a slender hand.

“I’ll take another of these,” he lifts his glass when the bartender arrives, gesturing to the old fashioned he’d somehow landed on over beer tonight, “And whatever she’s having, please.”

 “Vodka diet coke, please,” a voice rings out from beside him, and once the bartender busies herself with the order, she asks, “Shouldn’t I be the one getting you a drink? I heard it’s your birthday,”

“Why should either of us pay when it’s going on a tab?” He chuckles, angling his body better to face her. 

“Ooh la-la, a tab,” Nia mocks, “Now I feel like I’m a part of an elite club!”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve never had your drinks put on someone else’s tab before.”

“Not the New Jersey Devils captain himself, it’s such an honour!” She raises a manicured hand and presses it to her chest, a playful smile etched into her features. 

“Did you come over here just to poke fun at me?” Nico asks, touching on the dynamic that has long been between the two of them. She mocks him, mostly all bark and no bite, he takes it on the chest, knowing she’s doing it from of her warped version of almost sibling-like love, and Poppy usually acts as the mostly-unnecessary mediator, dividing her attention between them both. 

“Of course I did,” she affirms, “You looked all mopey and miserable, how could I not?”

“How is me waiting for a drink ‘mopey’?”

“Uh, let me think,” she taps her finger to her chin, before lifting it to point at each feature she references, “The huge pout on your lips, your giant caterpillar eyebrows all slanted and frowny-,”

“Forget I asked,” he mutters, lifting his lips into a quick smile and thanking the girl behind the bar as she brings them their drinks. “Didn’t know you’d be out tonight,”

“I’ll be sure to send you an e-vite to my google calendar when I get home later.”

Nico’s throat tightens slightly at how similar Nia and Poppy are - always quick with a response, most of the time sarcastic, most of the time able to elicit a genuine laugh to rumble from the depths of his chest. “I see why you and Poppy are so close.”

“Hm,” she hums, making a show of checking her phone, “You barely made it two minutes, but it could be a new record.”

“A new record?”

“For how long you can go in conversation without mentioning her.”

“She’s your best friend, the one person we have in common, it’s normal for me to bring her up, Nia.” He reaches for his drink to take a gulp, hoping the ice might make his throat feel a little better.

He doesn’t even know why he’s denying his lack of willpower when it comes to Poppy - 2 minutes actually seems like quite the achievement when he thinks about how long he’s restrained himself from reaching out over the past 4 days. Nia approaching him like this has been the perfect excuse to think about her - to talk about her without feeling like he’s overstepping or assuming.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Is she a good kisser?”

Or not.

He chokes on his drink, thankful the liquid isn’t coming out of his nose with how much he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“She looks like she would be. I’ve always thought about it but there’s never been a right time to try it out. Maybe I should take a leaf outta your book and lay it on thick and fast when she least expects it.”

How he even thought he could gain advantage in this conversation is beyond belief. He’s out of his depth with Nia, as usual. She isn’t afraid to call him out - she never has been - and she’s the one person in the world Poppy would confide in. Of course she knows about the kiss.

“Is that what she said, I laid it on thick and fast,”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy.” She chuckles, picking up her cocktail and stepping away from him, “Thanks for the drink, Nico, try to enjoy the rest of your birthday party.”

“Wait!” He reaches out to stop her, not wanting to let a golden opportunity slip from his hands so easily. “You would have bought me a drink before, for my birthday?”

“I think you earn about 5 times my annual salary in a month, so probably not.”

“How about you answer a question for me?” He proposes, “As a gift.”

“I could,” she sighs, sitting down in the stool beside him, “But I heard you get touchy after gifts.”

He immediately regrets asking, but not enough to let her go. He’s come this far, and he has 4 days worth of questions he desperately needs answers to.

“Funny,” he gives a condescending smile, which clearly pleases her as she gives a genuine one back, lifting her spare hand to gesture for him to carry on. As if it’s that easy to narrow down all the things he wants to ask her.

One question. 

What did she say about the kiss? Did she like it? Would she do it again?

What did she say about him? About how she feels? About what she wants?

Where is she right now? What did she tell Nia about the date? About the who?

“The guy she’s out with,” he can’t even bring himself to say the D word, “Is he nice?”

The look she gives him is almost pitiful. In fact, there is no almost about it. She clearly thinks he’s pathetic, but it’s too late to retract the question now that it’s out there.

“I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t like the way his stomach turns at her answer.

He had wanted this, right? For him to be a gratuity-withholding, uncouth slob with bad breath. 

But the thought of her being out with someone that has the potential to hurt her, hurts him. His chest feels tight, his head feels muddled, and that everlasting itch returns to the tips of his fingers - the weight of his cellphone becoming that much heavier in his back pocket.

“I mean,” she carries on with a shrug and reaches for her own phone, “He was a no-show, so we’ll never actually know for sure.” She swipes at her phone until she brings up her message thread with Poppy, turning up the brightness to show Nico the picture she had asked her to send earlier. 

It’s a selfie taken in the overly tall mirror she had once made him pick up from Ikea, claiming it wouldn’t fit in her car and his was much bigger, and he doesn’t know why his first instinct is to scan the background just to confirm his earlier intuitions about her bedroom. Too many pillows, cloud-like duvet. He can’t see the stuffed toy, but he assumes it’s somewhere in there.

Poppy looks unbelievable. 

Her dress is short, like the one she had worn on New Years, fits snug around her waist and emphasises her curves in all the best ways. Her legs seem to go on for miles, adorned in knee high boots no doubt to provide some semblance of warmth. Her hair is pulled back, and she wears gold jewellery - rings, some small hoop earrings, and he’s only just able to stop his fingers reaching out to pinch at the screen because he can see the gemstone bracelet without the need to zoom in.

“Can’t be that nice if you’re standing up a girl that gorgeous, huh?” Nia asks, suggestively, leaning her chin into the palm of her spare hand as she looks up at Nico. “Some guys just don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

He figures he actually should be embarrassed about the relief that floods through him - washes over his entire demeanour, expression changing from defeated to victorious in a matter of mere seconds.

The crease that seems to have permanently formed between his brows smooths out, posture corrects itself, and his lips even almost turn up into a smile.

There’s a childish, territorial voice within him that wants to exclaim, Thank God! But he’s grateful that he’s able to mute it.

And, despite being privy to Nia’s games - despite knowing exactly what trap he is being lured into, what he’s about to fall for - he can’t help but suggest, “You should tell her to come out.” Because, despite knowing he had taken the bait, he can’t find it within himself to care. “I think I asked her one too many times to ask again.”

The one thing he had twisted himself into knots over since first hearing her utter the word date, hadn’t actually come to fruition.

There is no date. There is no uncouth slob.

There is Poppy, dressed as pretty as she is, practically waiting for someone to show her a good time. 

He can do that. He wants to do it - to be the someone that’s good to her.

“Oh, should I?” Nia asks, a knowing smirk causing her lips to twitch mischievously. She’s been playing him this whole time, and once again, he doesn’t care. “I don’t know, she seems resigned to spending the evening on her couch watching New Girl,” she sighs dramatically, clearly looking for incentive - once again, reminding him too much of the girl he longs for. “I don’t know if there’s much convincing to be done.”

“I’ll add you to the tab for the night.”

Rookie mistake, offering something up so quick.

“Is that all my efforts are worth to you, Nico, a few measly drinks?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m actually out with a client tonight,” she looks back somewhere toward the other side of the bar, Nico can’t even bring himself to follow her gaze. “Been trying to sign them to my agency for a while, and if I can fix this deal, I’m up for a promotion.”

“Nia,” he warns, not liking how long this story is becoming. Forget good things come to those who wait. He’s waited long enough. “What do you want?”

“They’re big Devils fans, I think a night with the team could really open them up to the benefits of working with me.”

“Bring them into our section.”

“And maybe some tickets, too.”

“Fine.”

Nia gives him a triumphant smile, “Great, I’ll let them know.” She salutes him as she stands back up, gathering her drink and phone between the fingers of one hand before backing away. “Nice doing business with you, Captain.”

“Aren’t you gonna text her?”

“Oh, Nico,” she jeers, using her free hand to grasp him by the chin. “Dear, sweet, naive Nico,” she gives his head a subtle shake before patting at his shoulder condescendingly, “She’s already on her way.”

If anyone asks, Nico isn’t admitting to keeping an eye on the door since Nia had made her way back over to her side of the bar, but he knows as soon as Poppy has arrived. He watches her make her way over to her friend, watches the two of them embrace and talk between themselves for a good minute. He watches and waits until her eyes meet his from across the crowded room, and it’s like everything else stops.

He’d somehow managed to immerse himself in the party spirit since he had found out she was coming, fitting back into the group, toasting along with them, engaging in conversations with his teammates, his mood vastly improved in comparison to earlier in the night - of which he’s sure Timo is relieved after his short-lived exile from Nico’s good graces — but everything fades to black when he sees her lips curve upwards from afar.

Someone is talking beside him - hopefully not to him, he thinks, he doesn’t remember being mid-discussion with anyone - but it’s just drowned out mumbling right now, and all he can do is tilt his head toward the doors that lead to the bathrooms, and wait for her to respond. When she nods and separates herself from Nia, he excuses himself from the group, edging out of their section and following her path, losing her a little in the thick crowd of people - the bar still packed from where they had played the Giants game earlier.

When he gets through the doors, he’s thankful no one else is lingering back there - no rowdy queue for the bathroom, no staff, no one but him and the girl who seems to be holding his heart like a hot potato, not knowing the best way to carry it without getting burned.

“Hi.” It’s a weak starter for a heavy conversation, but if he’s honest with himself, she’s taken his breath away.

The picture from before hadn’t done her justice. She’s a little worn into her look for the evening now, hair not so neat, skin a little shiny, lipstick faded - but this is exactly how he likes her, especially when he takes in the way her eyes gleam and her cheeks puff out with her smile.

He makes a conscious effort not to let his eyes drift directly to the smile - to her lips, which even the thought of them elicits such a vivid memory.

“Surprise!” she sings quietly, arms outstretched and hands shaking theatrically.

He steps toward her with his hands behind his back, fingers clasped together until he’s confident that his knuckles turn white, fighting the urge to curl his arm around her waist and pull her into him, needing to be closer. He watches intently as her eyes flick down to where his hands should be.

She backs into the wall behind her, not to escape his approach, but more to prepare herself for it - like she’s settling in and embracing it.

She isn’t running. She isn’t pushing.

She’s waiting.

“I’ve missed you.” Nico wastes no time in telling her the truth - telling her what she’s refused to believe every other time he’s said it, but he can tell with the tilting of her head and the rounding of her eyes that understanding has settled within her. She has no comeback, no it’s only been a few days, and he thinks she must have felt the drag of them in the same way.

“I’ve missed you, too.” 

Whatever anxiety has rooted itself deep inside him for the past 4 days dissipates almost immediately. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He admits, without shame or reluctance. After Poppy had helped him overcome whatever had been censoring him before, there is no point now in holding back or beating around the bush. “You look so good, Mohn.”

A rush of confidence allows for him to close the gap, standing right before her as she leans against the wall, neck craning ever so slightly to look up at him. He still won’t touch, hands laying against the stone at either side of her hips, not daring yet to let even a sliver of his finger graze at her flesh.

“You look good, too.” She breathes, eyes glancing down to do an appreciative once over of his outfit, and he doesn’t miss the glint of pride cross through her eyes when she catches the glimpse of the gold that peaks out from the neck of his sweatshirt. 

“I’m sorry about your date.”

“Are you?” Her lips twist into a knowing smile. It’s an example of one of her many traits that he loves - she can detect his bullshit a mile off.

“Mmhm,” he nods, “I’m sorry a world exists where any man is stupid enough to stand you up, Poppy.”

“I’m the stupid one,” she argues, and he misses her gaze as soon as she takes it away, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment. “I should have listened to you and cancelled in the first place.”

“I was stupid to ask that.”

“Maybe we’re both stupid.”

“Definitely.” He probably shouldn’t be agreeing to her calling herself stupid, but it comes out before he can think too much on it. They’ve both wasted too much time. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” She asks, and a slight movement between them catches his eye, her fingers twisting together as if she’s withholding her touch, too.

“It’s better now.” He smiles fondly as she rolls her eyes. 

“How are your family?”

“They’re good.” He doesn’t want to go into too much detail about how shamefully miserable he has been over the past few days - doesn’t want to tell her how his mom had called him out on his lack of contribution to conversations, and he’d managed to pin it on the stress of the season. She still raises a brow at his insufficient answer, and he expands before she can tell him off. “Everyone but Luca made it out, my sister had to go back already for work, but my parents booked a trip to Halifax to visit the Phillips’, I lived with them when I played up there, they have a few friends to visit in Canada but they’ll drop back to see me again before they fly home.”

He feels the tickle of soft fingertips at the inside of his arm, slowly grazing down as he speaks, and as he watches Poppy, he thinks she must not realise she’s doing it - letting intuition take over as she’s distracted by the conversation. He lets her take the lead on initiating any touching, and it takes all the restraint he has left not to barge through the door she’s attempting to slowly eke open. She’s the only person in the world who could make him audibly hear the metaphorical creaking.

“Did they get to watch you win?”

He doesn’t even know why he finds himself grinning at the question, but the tone in which she asks it bears a hint of pride. She had watched the game on Friday.

“My dad was pretty much in the stands in full gear, everything but the pads and skates, and my mom was repping Foundation merch, she’s run off across the border with my beanie.” He likes the way her face lights up.

“I’ll get you another.” She raises her other hand to card her fingers through his hair, and, for once, he’s thankful not to be wearing any sort of hat. The soft scratch of her nails is soothing, and he just about manages to stop himself leaning into her touch and purring like a cat.

That would be embarrassing.

He feels outnumbered, both of her hands on him, and it feels unfair not to be touching her - so when his thumb extends itself on the wall just beside her hip and strokes at the soft fabric of her dress until it’s softly digging in, he watches intently for any hesitation before he lays a palm flat against her side.

It feels like things are progressing both torturously slow and overwhelmingly fast at the same time. His heart feels like it’s slamming into either side of his ribcage, and like nothing else occupies his chest, the sound of it echoing as if banging on the walls of a deep, empty cavern.

“Did I already tell you how much I missed you?” He honestly can’t remember, but he’ll tell her again if he needs to.

The hand that had run through his hair rests now on the side of his head, her thumb swiping softly at his cheek as she cups the side of his face, and before he can even make sense of what is happening, he’s being pulled forward. 

He bends to her advances with quick reflexes to avoid clashing, and their noses bump just before their lips meet.

Her chest rolls forward until it presses into his, and both his hands grab at her sides to pull her flush against him, legs tangling, hips pushing together, bodies touching everywhere possible all the way up to their mouths. 

He gives her all the control otherwise, allows her to determine the pace, responding to her every move and every touch with fervour and heat. She pulls at him, one hand grasping at his sweatshirt and the other cradling the side of his neck, and he quickly lifts one to stifle the blow to her head as she collides back with the wall, barely noticing the pain where his knuckles meet the stone.

Their tongues press together at the same time, and Nico doesn’t even realise his lack of patience got the better of him until their battle for dominance kicks off between their lips.

He can taste the same vanilla lip balm, can smell her signature coconut scent, can hear soft, subtle moans, can only see the back of his eyelids, not daring to open them, just wanting to feel. And he can feel everything. 

He feels the softness of her hair beneath the hand that is protecting her head from the discomfort of resting against the hard surface behind her, can feel the skirt of her dress bunching up in his grip, can feel her touch, fingertips dancing at the the base of his skull, thumb pressing into his jaw, her other hand making that same grabby gesture at the thick fabric covering his torso, squished between his heart and her chest, and he thinks he can feel the thump of her own heart on the other side.

He can feel her thigh pressed between his, the friction causing a heat to build deep in the pit of his stomach, swirling and whirling down, down, down until it culminates into the hard press of his hips into hers, and a rushed gasp combined with a guttural groan causes their lips to part.

They take deep breaths in unison, their chests bumping with every inhale, and he tries otherwise not to move.

He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, scrunched shut, even, and he tries not to be selfish - ignores the need to get a good look at her, to have this version of her ingrained to his memory too - and attempts to coax her back to him.

“Poppy,” he sounds just about as breathless as he feels. “Are you good?”

She hums in response, a subtle nod given, but he needs to hear her say it, and he tells her as much with a quick squeeze to her hip. Her eyes flutter open, gleaming and bright, framed by thick lashes and crinkling slightly at the outer corners as her lips turn up into a mischievous grin. “Better now.”

His chest feels like it’s about to burst open, like there’s a bear within him that is going to break out and pull her into its clutches, dragging her back safe to her home in his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, because he has to - he doesn’t care if it’s rude to leave his own birthday party, doesn’t care that he’s been the most ungrateful person in the world all night.

He’ll make it up to Timo, get him something big the next birthday of his that rolls around. Throw him a party. Or he’ll take care of the tab the next time they’re out. Maybe even let him have the window seat the next time they’re on the same plane home. 

Except, he won’t be doing any of that. He’ll be taking the reins on booking flights and putting Timo straight into economy, smack-bang in the middle of a row surrounded by a family of 5, screaming kids, arguing parents, the back of his seat being kicked the whole 8 hours to Zurich.

Because, just as Poppy’s swollen lips part to accept his advances - as her chin lifts, about to drop with a big affirmative nod, and he’s about to get everything he’s wanted the past 4 days and beyond - the doors to the back swing open, and his 6 foot teammate stumbles through, arms outstretched as he notices the two of them practically intertwined.

“Here you are!” He exclaims, voice booming in comparison to the soft breathy tones he and Poppy had been previously speaking in. “Poppy, you made it!”

“Hi Timo,” Nico feels her retreat, feels her legs brush past his and back to her own space, her hand on his chest now the only part of her that touches him, and he follows her lead, taking his hands back and trying not to clench his jaw or his fists as she converses with the man who was once his friend. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, should be back on the ice in a couple weeks.” Timo had suffered an injury in one of their games at the back end of December, and hasn’t been fit to travel, and Nico finds an unspeakably bitter part of himself wishing it was something to do with Timo’s legs that were injured so he couldn’t have interrupted their moment. “Glad you’re here, this one has been miserable all night.”

He can’t be this oblivious, Nico thinks. Why is he still here? Why isn’t he retreating back to the bar and leaving the two of them to whatever he had clearly barged in on.

And when Nico looks back to his teammate, his long time friend, he sees the oh-so-evident glint of mischief and disobedience in his grey-blue eyes.

He is getting his own back.

Nico knows he was petulant to blame Timo for Poppy not being invited, knows there was nothing he could have done to change her going out on a date, or them not speaking for months while he was with Talia.

He doesn’t need him to enact his revenge to see he was wrong to ignore his texts, or to mope around at the party he had put so much effort into. 

He tries to give him a pleading look to stop whatever he is trying to do, but it’s no use.

“The guys will want to see you, Poppy, Jack’s beating himself up about his shoulder, could use a friendly face.”

“Oh,” Poppy casts a glance back to Nico, and he gives her a nod, implying that she go see to her friend. “I’ll go find him.” 

He can wait. He’s waited 4 days. He’s waited years, in fact.

And, after that kiss, he knows he won’t have to wait much longer. 

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nico mutters in their shared native language once he’s watched Poppy disappear through the doors to the bar, with a quick glance back and an apologetic smile before they closed. 

“Just saving my brooding captain from being arrested for public indecency,” Timo shrugs with a shit-eating grin as he passes Nico and heads toward the bathrooms further down the hall. “You’re welcome!” He calls back in English, raising his hands and giving a patronising thumbs up.

Nico runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and wishing it was Poppy’s in its place.

It’s just an hour, maybe two, in the presence of his friends. Drinks, music, everyone in a good mood for the most part. It’s hardly like he’s walking out into a press conference after a 5 game losing streak and about to have all the blame placed upon his shoulders. 

It’s a party. 

Poppy’s here.

He can do this.

He can wait.

Next Chapter

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw or if I forgot you I'm a muppet tbh)

[capricioussun]

Style shift pt 1: Edge

ft the stylings of @decafguy00 • @phenom-lemon • @bonetrousledbones • @alsojnpie • @save-star • @owl-bones

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Rewatching 97 because I just need to get on with it but GAWDDD at this point I'm literally not watching all the rogueneto scenes IT'S SO UNCOOL 💀💀💀💀 ERIK WOULD NOT DO THAT WTF DISNEY

its just really funny in regards to 97 specifically because they never even interact in 92 (or if they do its incredibly sparring) so it's just the most out of nowhere thing possible. like oh we're doing this now ok

[chiropteracupola]

"The land was lost; the world was lost as well... the world is upside down ... and there is no remedy in this kingdom." — Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, trans. David Frye

[⚬⚬⚬⚬⚬𐂂, requested by anonymous]

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

fight the future part 1

AHHHHH, i’m so EXCITEDDDD!!!

it usually takes me an hour and a half to write up my initial thoughts on a 45 minute episode, PLUS more time to edit them before posting, so this 2 hour movie is probably going to take all night LMAOOOO

but after having some brief troubles with my laptop’s DVD player, here we are!!!! i cannot wait!!! i’m so excited!! everyone has really hyped this up. but i read the back of the DVD and it didn’t mention gibson at all? so are we just pushing that to the side for now?

okay. yeah. i’ll have to not worry about that little boy. 

oh, and yeah, i'm watching it on a DVD! the quality is... not great. which i suppose adds to the immersion.

post-movie thoughts: i can see shrimp colors and feel their secret emotions.

let’s GOOOOO!

theme music playing……………….. over some oily looking stuff…. YEAH BABY!!!!!

we are in a blizzard. two figures run. wait, it’s texas? oh, it’s ancient texas. a very different time from now.

let us enter a cave together, where we can start a fire and rest. and look around with torches. deeper and deeper into this labyrinth journey the cavemen. it looks like skyrim. i half expect a skeever to jump out

wah! who is this in the ice?

ALIEN ATTACK??? what is going on? alien vs cavemen! place your bets!!! one caveman down!!! the alien escaped?? other caveman wants to know where tf it went!

i get the sense a jumpscare is coming. WHAT IS THAT THING??? it looks like a flounder??????? surviving caveman stabs it and it bleeds. OHHH.... IS THAT THE BLACK OIL STUFF???? YEAH, it is!!! and it crawls all over the caveman!!!! 

wahhhh!!! abrupt jump cut to a boy named stevie falling into a cave. stevie, there may be monsters afoot, please be careful. stevie wants this skull for himself. please alert any local archaeologists of this find instead of stealing it or its historical context will forever be lost to time. NO STEVIE! the goop!!!!! it is upon him!!!

maybe this is what he gets for trying to steal archaeological remains. take notes, children. a lesson was learned today.

it crawls up his legs like evil slugs!!!! and into his eyeballs!! the other kids run!!!

they abandoned stevie in his hour of need… personally, i would not forgive them for this

some yellow firetrucks are here to save the day (and who has ever seen a yellow firetruck?). go, fetch stevie. the fireman up top can’t hear the ones down in the cave through the radio!!!

now, what is this helicopter doing at the scene? they bring out a pod-thing to store stevie in. and this other guy (later revealed to be named bronschweig- simply too many german names on this show) is watching the boy with grave concern.

THIS DUDE LEAVES THE FIREMEN DOWN THERE TO DIE?????

absolutely DIABOLICAL.

a ton more trucks pull in and block off the area while the doctor bronschweig guy calls someone to say that…. the impossible scenario that they never planned for??? well, they better come up with a plan!!

a week later, a helicopter arrives in dallas. the FBI says there is no evidence of an explosive in this building, but this other guy (michaud) says they had better check again. he sees something in the distance….. upon the roof....

SCULLY IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cheered and screamed!

“mulder, it’s me!” “where are you scully?” “i’m on the roof” <- it was her on the roof!! oh, my heart is so happy to see her!!! she says she hasn't found anything. and you know she is good at observing

LMAOOOOO she wants to know what the fuck she is doing there!!! after going up 12 floors of stairs!!! they are not acting in accordance with the data on how to respond to terrorist threats!!! the bomb threat was called in ACROSS THE STREET!! lives could be lost!!! yes diva, monologue statistics!

BOO! mulder scares her LMAOOO LMAOOOOOOO aww. babies.

(her lecturing him on the statistics and terrorist behavioral analysis is so funny because he is the behavioral analysis guy... but i recognize that they are doing a sort of character introduction for the girlies who are just tuning in for the movie, and she is the one who likes to do things by the book)

(he pops a sunflower seed) “what are we doing up here, scully? it’s hotter than hell” <- many are asking this question...

NOOOOO, he’s bored because they’ve CLOSED THE X FILES 💔💔💔 and now they have to follow the rules!!! and do boring things like look for bombs! but at least they get to do it together? that has to be a plus!

“maybe we should call in a bomb threat to houston; i think it’s free beer night at the astrodome” (she glares at him) LMAOOOOO she’s mad as hell!!!! and so is he!!! but in a different direction!

OHHHHHH she pretends the door is locked…. and he goes into open it…. AHAHAHA, OH I JUST GIGGLED!!!

“it’s locked?” “so much for anticipating the unforeseen” (he opens it and turns to her, who is smiling, crossing her arms) “i had you” (he’s laughing) “no you didn’t” “had you big time"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH i love when they write scully as a smartass!!! THAT IS MY BABY!! <3

SHE’S STILL TEASING HIM AS THEY GO INSIDE, BAHAHAHA! he says he saw her jiggle the handle; “i saw your face, mulder, there was a definite moment of panic” “you’ve never seen me panic. when i panic, i make this face” (he has no discernible expression)

BANTER!!! THE BANTER OF IT ALL!!!

OHHHH, SHE MAKES HIM BUY HER A SODA and she wants something SWEET... AGAIN, i say, that is my baby!!!!!!

15 minutes in and i’m already kicking my feet and giggling at their banter, oh my god… this is going to ruin me

LMAOOO what the hell did he just pull out of his pocket as he is putting the change in for a soda?!!

bro is slamming all of the buttons…. bro is kicking the machine… i have been there too, brother, i promise. 

aha! the machine was unplugged!

this DVD is skipping a little but i think he got locked in the drink room 💔 for what purpose??

he panics and calls scully on his nokia, and her number is 555-0113 btw, for those of you who keep track of these things

he says he found the bomb!!!! and she thinks he is joking, but he is absolutely not!!! 

OH SHIT!!!!! the bomb really is in there!!!! where the vending machine should be!! he starts counting down…….

so scully runs out, saying that she will get him out of there, but first: get everyone else out!!!!

YES, TELL THEM GIRL!!! “i need this building evacuated and cleared out in ten minutes. i want you to call the fire department and have them block off the city center and a one-mile radius around the building” “ten minutes?” “DON’T THINK! pick up that phone and make it happen!” <- YAAAAAAS EXACTLY RIGHT!!!

love when she raises her voice at men who doubt her. it brings me inner peace.

she needs to speak to michaud NOW…. tell him to deploy the FBI AT ONCE!!!!

oh, poor mulder, stuck in a locked room with the vending machine bomb….. he jumps when his cellphone rings. “scully, you know that face i just showed you? i’m making it again” <- NOOOOO his normally cool exterior is cracking 💔

she informs him to get away from the door because they are coming in. is michaud a welder????? or do they just keep one on hand for events like this?

michaud says to get out NOW!!! and mulder doesn’t want to listen, but scully forces him out. now why tf would this michaud guy know how to diffuse a bomb?? but he says he does.

okay, but he lies, because he’s just sitting there looking at it?????

mulder wants to run back in but she SCREAMS IN HIS FACE THAT THEY DON’T HAVE TIME!!!

(this was most pleasing to me as well. something about her screaming in his face to save him made me nod in approval)

they just barely get in the car, when the whole building blows!!!! poor limping agents emerge from the bombing as the place is in ruins. “next time, you’re buying”, mulder says. oh, this man, and his dumbass quips…

back to the FBI headquarters in DC. is scully in trouble??!?! but skinner is here!!!! surely he will defend her! oh no… mulder is here, too. there were 5 deaths in the explosion!!!

mulder rushes in, asking if the bodies really were found in the building, because they were told it was clear. but this lady tells him he was late and he better go wait outside… what is afoot at this moment…? skinner shakes his head ever so slightly

cut to him pounding sunflower seeds outside the door while the meeting takes place.

skinner emerges!!!!! NOOOO he gently informs mulder that they’re being blamed for this!!! he was so careful about the way he worded this news, too 💔💔

“if they want somebody to blame, they can blame me. agent scully doesn’t deserve this” “she’s in there right now saying the same thing about you” <- OHHHHHH……….. i fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot.

(metaphorically, of course. for in reality, i sit here, cozy in bed)

mulder says that he broke protocol by leaving the SAC, so he should take the blame, but she says she was the one who ordered him out. and he denies wanting to go back in.

poor scully :( she emerges

and now the people from the panel in the meeting room want skinner back :( she always calls him “sir” :(

NOOOOO, THEY’RE SPLITTING OUR AGENTS UP??? 💔 

“this is not about you scully, they’re doing this to me” “they’re not doing this. mulder, i left behind a career in medicine… because i thought that i could make a difference at the FBI, but it hasn’t turned out that way, and now if they were to transfer me to omaha, or cleveland, or some field office it just doesn’t hold the interest for me that it once did. not after what i’ve seen and done” <- OHHHHHH… his face while she says this…

and her guilt…. it’s like she wants to atone.

again, scully and her need to Do The Morally Correct Thing at all costs. and at this point, can she say that being in the FBI is the Morally Correct Thing to do? i don't blame her for wanting to go be a doctor instead, even though i am surprised she doesn't want to figure out who got her sick and killed her sister. maybe she thought if she cut her losses now, she could still make a life for herself somewhere else.

she looks so SAD, and she says she’s sorry, and when mulder walks away, she grabs his jacket that he left behind... ohhhhh my GOD, her standing alone in the hallway… someone please kill me

(post viewing note: i think he was trying to blame himself for the whole situation and assuage her guilt with the "this is not about you, scully" line, but it seemed like he was saying that he was the only one being persecuted for the pursuit of the great and noble Truth, which rubbed me the wrong way. i think i know what he MEANT, but when he said they were doing this to HIM, it was like, damn, pretty sure y'all have been a team... again with the hearing 'i' when he ought to hear 'we')

NOOOOO! mulder’s absolutely smashed at the bar. bro barely drinks and tonight he is going for the gold. 

AND THE BARTENDER ASKS WHAT HE DOES SO HE JUST. TELLS HER EVERYTHING??? so she cuts him off for the night. because his alien story seems to indicate his inebriation.

oh my god, it's like it doesn't bother him that he is a joke to his peers when he is getting results, but when he is separated from those results, being belittled hurts

“one is the loneliest number” <- SAID BY THE MAN who never wanted a partner….. oh my god…..

OH, the poor guy can’t even go to the bathroom in peace… which leaves him pissing against the wall… truly an all time low for my best friend mulder

this guy is talking to him while he goes to the bathroom. he says he has been watching his career for a while…….. since he was a promising young agent….. okay, who is this kurtzweil fellow? OH! HE CLAIMS TO BE “AN OLD FRIEND OF YOUR FATHER’S” EEK! i don’t think that will endear him to you 

HE CALLS THEM “FELLOW TRAVELERS”.... RED MR. MULDER CONFIRMED???

he’s trying to get away from this guy. kurtzweil heard he comes in there sometimes. huh, that’s interesting. i feel like we never see him drink. and he said he usually doesn’t, which he stated as much before. maybe he goes there on the tough nights. maybe he gets bored. maybe his general sobriety is being retconned in this film. very interesting.

bro is trying to get tf out of there… but kurtzweil says that michaud never tried to diffuse that bomb!! "they" wanted the medical quarantine office in that dallas building destroyed!! which is where the bodies came from!!! the dead they found were already dead before the bomb went off!!!!

ohhhh, mulder's eyes are alight again… he tells the doctor he thinks he’s full of shit, but i can see that spark in his drunk and pondering eyes.

he is now off to georgetown. where poor scully cannot sleep. in her white robe. sadly looking at the ceiling.

(i know nothing about DC. so scully lives in georgetown? then where does he live? how far away is that? you have to call a cab, so it's probably pretty far... how long are their journeys to work? and most importantly, how far are they from the museums?)

OH she immediately clocks that he is drunk and she is SUSPICIOUS. oh, i want to STUDY this interaction:

“oh, i woke you. did i wake you?” (he stumbles in)

“no”

“why not? it’s 3 in the morning” 

“are you drunk, mulder?” (i find it very fascinating she asks this without judgement- just very matter of fact)

“i… i… uh, was, until about 20 minutes ago, yeah”

“was that before or after you decided to come here?”

“what exactly are you implying?”

(she stares at him) “go home, mulder”

“no, get dressed”

“it’s late”

“get dressed”

“what are you doing?” 

“just get dressed, and i’ll explain on the way” <- ohhhhhh…. will she go with him?

she will, but only after a deep sigh

(post-viewing thoughts: i thought this was so fascinating because it felt like she thought he was going to break whatever tenuous barrier was between them. like, he was either going to try and sleep with her, or beg her to stay, and either one was something she couldn't handle. it felt like she assumed it was sexual, to me at least. and that firm rejection was very interesting. i shall unpack this for decades, i am sure)

back to texas, where the quarantine effort where stevie and the firemen fell in the hole is being resumed. AND CSM IS LIGHTING UP AS HE DESCENDS FROM HIS HELICOPTER!!! sadly and pensively smoking. 

the guy from before who we saw leave the firemen behind- bronschweig- has something to show CSM. AUGH, the fireman that they left in the hole is still alive, but he is very goopy??? why is this???

the black oil alien is eating him away!!! but they managed to slow it down by bringing him back to freezing!!!

he asks if CSM wants him to destroy “this one too, before it gestates” and he says no, no. we need to try the vaccine. and if it doesn’t work… burn it like the others. nasty.

AUGH....... the oil alien moved in the fireman's body a little bit. didn't care for it.

the agents are rolling up to the naval hospital at 4 am. i sure do hope mulder wasn’t the one driving. scully does not seem like the type to allow this.

LMAOOOO he is trying to get into the morgue by pushing around the young and inexperienced guard, and he does that thing where he calls him “son”, which makes me feel so weird, but the trickery of a guy named fox never fails to amuse me. he points out to scully once they're successfully inside that it’s pretty weird a hospital morgue is suddenly off limits on the orders of a general. yeah, seems sus.

mulder is unboxing this corpse, and it is horribly sticky!!! she’s gloving up to investigate. “god, it’s completely edematous”, she notes, and i giggled when she said that. scully using medical words makes my heart skip beats. i even giggled while gagging as she dragged her fingers through the human body that had become gel. and there was evidently absolutely no autopsy, she declares!!! the death report is obviously not true!!!

(shoutout to the props team)

STEALING A BODY with agents mulder and scully! but she is concerned! it takes a long time to conduct an autopsy! she’s worried they'll get caught!! “we’re being blamed for this man’s death. i’d like to know what he died of”, mulder points out, and you know what? i can’t really argue with that logic 

how is she gonna cut the body open if he’s goop?!?!

off to dr. kurtzweil’s apartment, where an outside investigation is taking place, and you bet mulder is going to crash it.

OH SHIT??? the cops who are in kurtweil's place accuse him of a very serious crime??? mulder also found a book he wrote about “global domination conspiracy” um… can we trust this guy? 

earlier when he said he was an OBGYN, my first thought was that he was one of those guys who works in the fertility clinics and makes the clone people… maybe he really is?

(after seeing the film, i think it was just a coincidence LMAO)

mulder make a joke about needing a pelvic examination and cracks the other cop up lmao. he has a way of charming people

GASP! as he tries to leave, he’s being summoned around the corner by kurtzweil!!! he says "they" know that he is talking to mulder. mulder is like how tf did you know all that about the goop guy in the hospital morgue?

well, let me tell you a story about a mouse disease, says kurtzweil.

and FEMA mentioned…. what are they doing in a mouse disease outbreak?? with their newfound powers? hmm.

MR. MULDER LORE!!!! they worked on a bio weapon together. “a plague to end all plagues… a planned armageddon” arranged with the aliens!! that's... not good.

so he says the president will declare a state of emergency when this plague arrives, and all power will come under FEMA/the secret government. and then i think he implies it will be transferred over to the aliens?

he says to go back to texas and dig… or else.

poor FEMA. always being blamed for something.

meanwhile, scully is working on getting an autopsy on the goopy body. but there are people approaching!!!

she hides!!! in the freezer!!!! but no!!!! her phone goes off!!!!

LMAOOOO!!! DESPITE the horrible timing, she picks up and says she can’t really talk right now- but mulder wants to know more about this infection she found. 

he wants her to come to dallas with him, but she says she can’t, she has a hearing tomorrow!!! OH SHIT!!! the army men are approaching, but just in time she hides under the bodies…… very gross

now mulder is in a lab far away. looks like she did not accompany him to texas.

JUST KIDDING!!! SHE DID!!! she walks in right as he is told about some archaeological bone fragments!!

she didn’t want to come, but whatever those men were infected with has a protein code she has never seen before!! and i KNOW scully knows her protein codes!!! it is a serious health threat!!!

time to look at the fossils with a microscope. oh, whatever she sees is crazy, judging by the face she is making

(i thought it was so funny how he tells the dude in the lab he wanted her to explore the bones because it was so conveniently timed AND because they were archaeological remains that were thousands of years old, and i'm thinking, is she trained in archaeology? or is that implied with a training in forensic pathology? at what age is a bone no longer in her area of expertise?!)

back to the texas site…. the scary government people are going to try the vaccine. BLEH, whatever was in that guy has come free through his chest!!!!!!!!!!! bronschweig is looking around all over the place, freaking tf out!!!! where did it go?!!!!!

bronschweig says he can see it?? in a cave.

it looks slimy. and kinda little? he’s loading up a syringe with some sort of liquid that must be the vaccine, but then it vanishes!!!

OH. IT IS NOT LITTLE. NOT LITTLE AT ALL!!!!

GIRL. IT EATED HIM!?!!!! bronschweig stabs the alien fellow with the vaccine, but the other scientists lock him down in the hole because he has been mauled!!!!!!! and they bury him!!!! damn!!! there are truly no alliances in this alien business!!!!

why are we in england now? OHHHHH! IT’S WELL-GROOMED MAN!!! his butler says he has a call….

(okay, yeah, his name is “well-manicured man”, as the subtitles show, but come on!! it’s been 5 seasons of me calling him the wrong name!! i can’t switch it up now!!)

CSM says there is an emergency meeting TONIGHT. and strughold called it- whoever tf that is.

i have a feeling i am supposed to be most sympathetic towards well-groomed man. especially as he runs for what i presume to be his crying grandchild who hurt their knee. he was also the only one to advocate for working alongside the resistance, which morally elevated him above the others. but still. he is IN the alien groupchat, which you do not enter by being a morally clean fellow

syndicate meeting time!! who is this strughold fellow? aww, well-manicured man’s grandson broke his legs :(

so, breaking news: the alien virus has mutated into a new entity! they need to reevaluate their role in the colonization! well-groomed man points out that they have been used this whole time!! and they dismiss all of his wisdom!

so, they are once again going to ignore his advice of trying to have any hope. but there have been complications… allow us to look at a TV to illustrate

it is mulder and scully on the security footage!!! someone must have tipped him off to what is going on!! and they suspect kurtzweil. so he must go. and so must mulder.

but if they kill mulder, they risk turning one man's quest into a wider crusade… so they must take away what he cannot live without… 

cut to scully!!!! NOOOOOO!

ahhhhh!! i left off at 54:52, i feel that this is an okay place to leave for the night, because my writeups take so long. i started this almost 2 hours ago, and i think a break is appropriate here. so! until tomorrow!!!

ahhhh… so many things to analyze. while trying to fall asleep, i couldn’t stop thinking about the following: scully teasing mulder at the very beginning of the film; how she doesn’t want to work for the FBI anymore without him, and how she no longer feels she can make a change there (and how she Needs to make change rather than simply earn a paycheck); how she is trying to find her place in life still; his sadness at this fact; how he went to the bar and got smashed to cope, spilling his guts out to the waitress, clearly crushed that the world thinks he’s a joke when he doesn't have the answers to dull the pain; how he showed up to scully’s place drunk and she was confused, and the careful line of their relationship was being walked upon when he did so, but she still followed him into the hospital; and then how she immediately started nerding out about the goopy guy, and then hid in the morgue to autopsy him!!!!! and then there’s the whole thing with the well-groomed man and the aliens and colonization and blah blah blah, but come on!! i want my babies back together!! kicking ass and taking names!!! so.

part 2 shall commence shortly!

[waywardstation]

I cannot wait to have my heart ripped out by your artistic take on a Warden Ingo and Emmet reunion. I'm getting a replacement heart on the shelf ready as we speak.

(Also hope you're doing well, glad to see you've had some more energy lately. Your art and comics are always wonderful and worth the time. Wishing you a good weekend. 🩵)

In regards to this post

HAHA THANK YOU!! I’ve been thinking a lot about how I want to do it with them; I already have a certain canon built up in my head that’s meant for fics like IWLYB, but the canon for this interactive comic is going to be different, (I have no idea how it’ll go since it can possibly change depending on peoples’ choices) so I’ve been trying to figure out new stuff for it.

And thank you very much! It’s been nice letting myself indulge in my interests again instead of mentally focusing so much on IRL things that have been draining me. I’m so happy you appreciate the work, and thank you so much for the words of support!! ;v; <3 hoping you have a fantastic weekend as well, friend!!

[makorragal-312]

I wish you guys could understand how much it sucks that this season really does seem to give the POSSIBILITY of something ACTUALLY shifting in terms of Buddie, but Kr*sten did so much damage and had me so pissed and scarred from the Season 6 finale that I spent this whole goddamn hiatus conditioning myself to stop getting my hopes up.

[that-guest-named-pie]

OH!!!

THERES SO MANY OF YOU!!! HI.

It has barely been a week holy shit./pos

I feel as though I should celebrate this somehow???

Thank you homies!! This is so Pie smell <33

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)