#oh bessie

[phatburd]

I have a very rough idea for Bessières’ afterlife and it’s … not nice.

Inspired by the rambling I did on @impetuous-impulse ‘s posts I had an inkling of a marshalate fic idea that I probably won’t write because it has a bit of conceptual overlap with Night At The Marshalate and I need to poke that

But basically some kind of surreal dreamlike fic where Napoleon and the marshals are in a strange fairytale afterlife where their personas and appearances are shaped by their legacies and historical viewpoints, and the disconnect between that and how they remember themselves to be and yeah that’s another layer of inaccurate interpretation via me but we need to cut off that infinite regression

But also, and historical RPF shippingness ahead:

Napoleon would be grandiose, short, a towering conqueror, statuesque and beautiful but also monstrous and hungry

And you contrast this with Lannes who was struck down in his prime as the Roland or Achilles of the Grande Armee, a knight-hero beloved and flattened into bravery and tragedy

But even if Napoleon is an ogre or a tyrant or a beast or a mythologised marble statue, this knight-hero Lannes will follow him loyally even into the night

(And then you have Roi Nicolas Soult characterised by a slanderous tortured ambition, holding a crowned laughing mask over his scowling face

Fiery Ney burning forever in defiance, and how he haunts those who outlived him, a veritable Marley in chains of bravery and honour-

Haunting the “little drummer boy” Victor of the sunny face and guilty mind

Scintillating Murat who has been characterised as a foppish idiot who didn’t know what to do with power, looking into cracked mirrors

I could keep going on but look weird dreamlike fairytales is a genre I enjoy way too much)

And yes this is also inspired by fgo napoleon I think Murat is peak Rider and Lannes is peak Saber

[sunshinenstags]

The parallels and differences between how Dutch talks about Annabelle and how Hosea talks about Bessie is so so very important to me. The only thing we really know about Annabelle is her death and how it affected Dutch. How it “fuels” Dutches hatred towards colm. ( though I think he’s really just using her death a front) we don’t know anything else about her. But Dutch “loved” her and the only thing we hear is of her death and how it affects DUTCH. We don’t hear about how she afffeted anyone else. What she was like.

Hosea in comparison speaks of Bessie in a mournful, bittersweet yet beautiful way. We SEE how Bessie’s death affected Hosea, but we never get told how she died. That is never once brought up. But Hosea DOES tell us many stories of how he and her wanted to get out, how they traveled, how she loved him regardless of the fact he was an outlaw. Hosea doesn’t need to directly tell us he loved Bessie bc it pours out of his soul with every breath he speaks of her. Dutch NEEDS to mention that he loved Annabelle because the only thing he ever talks about is her death and how it’s an excuse to continue his violent behavior.

[magewardensurana]

everyone else writing annabelle: nooo dutch don't seek revenge it's bad.

my annabelle:

A: I think we're gonna have to kill this guy dutch

D: damn

[askgeraudduroc]

BONJOUR

THER IS ONLY ONE PROPER REACTION TO EVERYTHING TNAT HAS BEFALLEN YOUR FAMILY

- The Duke of Montebello, @armagnac-army

... Atleast me nor my husband haven't eaten something of doubtful quality and gotten tied up like an criminal.

...

Wait Duroc DON'T EAT THAT PASTA ON THE FLOOR!

[maybeits-nana]

mermay wip that’s definitely not gonna be done in mermay 🫠

[msfangirlgonewild]

Make this dude proud 😉

MR FINCH BEST BROTHER IN LAW LOOK AT HOW HAPPY HE IS

[coralsgrimes]

Not you offending Jessie like Ben and her aren't friends. You're never going to have him, girlie. Let the man live

Offended? How did I??? Ye idiot bunch really took words with meaning and started to use them to crazy extent lol

Lol and now we arrived back again at the saint Jessie station. The police will arrive shortly to shot me on sight for stating facts xd it was a pleasure muffins 🥹

OFFENDING lol SOMEONE got offended on behalf more like xd what about the rest? Why was one bestie singled out while I said no names and talked about a group of Shadow Daddy kids to begin with? FASCINATING... The rest aren't friends? They all ain't getting unemployment payments from the same place with Benny? Oh yes I forgot we are at St. Jessie Station!! Silly me! Forgot the perfect angel protectors feeling a lil insecure about truth might be among us tonight :v

Let the man live??? how I'm gonna pay me bills otherwise? Do ye understand where ye are or ye bored real bad? Also, I actually don't want him lol but following yer special case, I'm not going to have him either way! Cuz imma not a hypocrite with lung scarring and bad breath... and I'm also not on the market for listening (and pretending to enjoy) to high note wailing sounds made by a constipated loser who's surrounded by his cultists friends chanting that rape is a concept made up by hysterical women... or whatever ye worded this. Same thing after all! IM SAFE ANYWAY!!!

Soooo! Thanks for fighting for nothing girlie 😘 the services ye provide are completely meaningless and might have had proven right some old statements of mine lol ye will be promptly forgotten but I had fun for the past 5 minutes

[hischierhoney]

Dog Days

dog dad!Nico Hischier x dog mom!reader

masterlist

summary: a dog park meet cute with the potential to change your life. or: months ago, @theemporium & i went down a spiral ab that picture of Nico & the dog with the devil horns. this fic is what came out of it. 10.1k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol, doodle slander (adopt don’t shop)

There’s a guy in the dog park who’s staring at you. Really, you should be more nervous about it, because he’s a large man, and you don’t know him, and he keeps looking at you. But his dog- Bernie, you think he called her- is cute, and she’s getting along great with your dog, so you’re a bit inclined to let it slide. Besides, he’s not being creepy. He’s probably just checking to make sure you’re okay with your dogs playing together. He’s here often- you recognize him well, but it’s the first time the dogs have taken interest in each other.

You watch another dog join the fray, some sort of hypoallergenic doodle, if you had to guess. The type that costs thousands of dollars for no apparent reason. It’s wearing a Patagonia puffy jacket, which makes you laugh. You hide it behind your hand. You watch as the dog bows low between your dog and Staring Guy’s dog, and then the doodle rolls over in the mud, and-

“Excuse me!” Someone yells. “Excuse me- hey, you! Is that your dog?”

You turn and blink, realizing the woman is talking to you. She’s storming your way in her matching Patagonia coat, face red with anger. You stare, eyes wide. Staring Guy is looking, too, not even trying to hide it now.

“Um. Which one?” You ask.

She gestures wildly. “The- that black mutt,” she hisses. You frown. “The one who was in the mud with my Bessie.”

Staring Guy snorts from his spot twenty feet away. Your eyes flicker to his, and he’s holding back laughter. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from doing the same.

“Yeah, that’s Moose,” you say, turning to look over your shoulder. Moose and Bernie have abandoned Bessie in the mud, more interested in sticks. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“Yes! My dog is covered in mud now!” The woman snaps, and you rear your head back. “I mean, honestly-“

“Oh, yeah, she really seemed to like that puddle,” you agree, nodding. “You know how dogs are.”

She shakes her head angrily. “Not my Bessie. She’d never do that. So.”

“So?”

“So are you going to pay for her grooming? And the dry cleaner for her coat, oh, that coat-“ the woman sighs. “She’d have never done this if she hadn’t been influenced-“

You turn to look over your shoulder, to where Bessie is still rolling in the mud. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say my dog influenced yours to roll in the mud? And now you want me to pay for- you understand how ridiculous you sound, right?”

She huffs. “Bessie is a well behaved, purebred Bernedoodle. Yours is-“

She stammers, so you fill in the gap. “Moose is a rescue.”

“Right, so-“ she waves her hand. “You see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” You say, incredulously.

The woman is so angry, now, that her whole face has gone beet red. She lurches towards you, and you take a couple steps back. Her hands are in fists at her sides. You’re not exactly afraid of her, but you hadn’t been planning on getting into a fistfight in the dog park, and she’s making you feel a little uneasy.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. You turn and find Staring Guy, walking up with his hands in his pockets, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You widen your eyes at him, praying he gets the message. He sends you a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth softly. He has a kind face, warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows that arch over them. The woman goes off on her tirade again, about her precious Bessie and your awful influence of a mutt, and how you hadn’t done anything to stop them from playing in the mud. Staring Guy’s dog comes trotting up as she goes on and on, and Moose isn’t far behind. He winds himself in front of your legs, and you reach down to fix one of his ears, the one that always gets flipped inside out. Bessie isn’t far behind. You chew on your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of her, soaked in mud.

“Oh, that’s probably Bernie’s fault, actually,” Staring Guy says, dark brows furrowed. “She really loves the mud. She’s the one who started it.”

The woman splutters. “Oh- but- well- I’m not sure-“

Staring Guy shakes his head. He takes a couple steps forward, effectively placing himself between you and her. Your heart melts just a little. Moose looks up at him, and his ear flips back inside out. You sigh at the sight of him- he is covered in mud, and it’s going to be a pain to get him cleaned up.

“I just think she should’ve tried to keep them out of the mud.” The woman says, though she’s calmed down a bit.

Staring Guy’s deep voice and large stature seem to have calmed her down a bit. If you’re being honest, he’s calmed you, too. He’d make a good mediator, you think. He’s soothing.

“It’s a dog park, not a doggy day care,” he says, voice a little bit more tense. “You’re responsible for your own dog. Says so on the sign.”

The woman huffs and looks between the two of you. She seems to realize she’s getting nowhere, and she marches off, leash in hand, headed for poor Bessie, who’s likely in for the bath of a lifetime. You and Staring Guy watch her go, staring as she stomps across the park, to the gate, and all the way out to her shiny car. She steps in a puddle on the way out and splatters mud up her jeans. You hunch over and start to giggle.

Staring Guy lets out a laugh, too. “That was fucking ridiculous,” he says.

You nod, unable to speak as the laughter takes over. Moose sits down on the grass and stares up at you. Bernie sits down next to him and does the same. They both look incredibly concerned. You wipe tears of laughter from your eyes and stand up.

“I mean, she’s probably right, Moose is definitely a bad influence,” you say, cooing down at your dog. “I mean, look at him.”

Staring Guy laughs and tilts his head. “His name’s Moose?”

“Basic, I know,” you shrug. “They were calling him that at the shelter. I felt bad changing it, so here we are.”

Staring Guy shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s a good name. This is Bernie,” he says, nudging his dog with his knee. “And I’m Nico.”

He sticks out his hand to shake. You do so, and introduce yourself, too. He repeats your name back to you with a soft smile. Bernie seems to take this as a sign, and she walks up to you, sniffing the air, tail wagging wildly. You crouch down to pet her, running your hands through her thick, sandy fur. She pants happily.

“She’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Nico. “Golden retriever?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I think. She’s a rescue. I thought about doing one of those dog DNA things, but…”

“It never feels important enough,” you fill in. He’s scratching Moose’s head, and he nods, grinning. “Moose is a rescue, too.”

“They’re the best kind of dogs,” he says, finding the spot behind Moose’s ear that makes his left leg thump against the ground. Nico laughs. “No Schnoodles or Whoodles for me.”

You laugh and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Moose looks between you and Nico, tail wagging happily. Not for the first time, you wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you could read his mind.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” Nico says, toying with the dog leash. “But it was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” you say, giving Bernie one last head pat. “Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem.”

…..

Weeks slip by, and Nico stays a constant in them. Wednesdays and Fridays, you find him at the dog park in the mid afternoon, Bernie waiting eagerly for you to let moose off his leash. The two of you chat and watch your dogs play and then bid each other farewell to go back to your own lives. It’s nice. He’s nice.

“Are you busy?” Nico asks one afternoon, shoulder nearly touching yours.

Moose and Bernie are playing in a pile of leaves, a week post Bessie-mud incident. You watch as the wind picks one up, and Moose chases after it. Bernie chases after him. You turn to look at Nico, feeling slightly confused.

“Like, now?” You ask.

He nods. “Now, and for a little while? There’s this dog friendly coffee shop down the street. I was going to take Bernie there. Though maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Your heart jumps. He wants you to come with? He wants to see you outside of this dog park, outside of the primary meeting spot. He wants to see you.

You nod. “Yeah, sure, that sounds sweet. You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Has anyone ever said yes to that?”

“Nope,” you say. “And I’m still alive, so it’s working.”

The two of you gather up the dogs and head for the coffee shop. They walk together happily on their leashes- matching ones from the same brand. You and Nico chat about the leashes, and dog supplies in general, and your favorite pet stores. By the time you make it to the coffee shop, you’ve run out of dog topics and moved on to other ones. You talk about coffee and New Jersey and home- which is Switzerland, for Nico, which explains the accent. You order coffee and pastries and take a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The early afternoon sun is shining down. There’s an autumn chill in the air, but the sun takes the edge off.

Nico gets dodgy when you start talking about work. At first, you wonder if he’s some sort of politician- he has the face for it- or a business guy. He doesn’t seem like the type to work in the tall buildings in the city, crunching numbers and barking orders. You’re not sure what else would’ve brought him to the US from Switzerland, though.

“D’you watch hockey?” He asks, and you blink.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It was never my thing. A few of my friends are big fans, though.”

“Of the Devils?” He asks, nodding his head down the street, where, if you walked far enough, you’d find the Prudential Center, home of New Jersey hockey.

You nod and swallow a sip of your coffee. “Mhm. S’that what you do for work? You work for the Devils?”

He shrugs, then nods. “Basically.”

You let it go, then. Maybe he’s just trying to be careful- after all, he barely knows you. You’d done the same, been careful about not telling him where you work. He seems trustworthy enough, but you can never be too careful. The two of you move on to more important topics- which donuts are best, and what the best restaurants in town are. The afternoon slips away quickly and quietly, and you only realize you’re late when your friend calls you.

“Shit,” you mutter, standing up. “I know I said I wasn’t busy but- I have to meet my friends for drinks, and I’m probably going to be late-“

“It’s okay,” Nico says, softly. “I’ve gotta go too. But this was really nice.”

You smile softly. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

You both wave goodbye and take off down the street in different directions- you, back towards your apartment to drop off Moose, and him towards his, you assume. You can’t wipe the smile off your face the whole way, and it’s still stuck there by the time you slip into the booth at the restaurant a half hour later.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, as your friend Alyssa sends you a glare. “I was out at the dog park with Moose, and then I lost track of time, and-“

Your other friend Nora laughs. “Were you too busy staring at Dog Park Guy?”

Your face grows hot. “His name’s Nico.”

Both of them blink at you. “Did you actually talk to him?”

You let out a long sigh and launch into the story- Bessie and her bitchy owner, Nico’s rescue, the increased interactions, and the cafe today. Their eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” Nora squeals.

“If he’s cute,” Alyssa adds.

You roll your eyes and ignore the looks they’re giving you. “We’re just friends. Because our dogs are friends.”

“Like I said,” Nora says. “Cute.”

Eventually they drop the subject. You have your drinks and catch up, and make plans to hang out again the next night. Alyssa wants to watch the hockey game. She’s the biggest Devils fan you know, could name every player and all of their stats. You and Nora agree to watch, as long as she provides the alcohol.

You show up just after the game starts the next afternoon, Moose in tow. You snag a plate and grab some snacks and join Alyssa on the couch.

“Can you grab me a beer?” You call out to Nora, who’s in the kitchen.

She returns with a bottle in hand, passing it off to you. You thank her and curl up further on the couch, turning to look at the TV. You wonder if Nico’s working, if he has to be at the games or if he does more of the behind the scenes stuff. Maybe he runs the charity branch. That would fit him. You take a sip of your beer, and then nearly spit it right back out.

You turn to Alyssa, who has the remote, and make a frantic gesture. “Rewind it.”

“What?” She asks, not looking away from the TV. “It’s a power play, I’m not gonna-“

“Rewind it,” you say again, reaching for the remote. “Lyss, just-“

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, frowning at you. “You don’t care about hockey.”

“No, I know, I just- I thought I saw someone,” you say, staring at the screen.

“In the crowd?” Nora asks. You don’t answer, so she says your name. “Babe, what is going on?”

Before you can answer, Alyssa throws her hands up in the air and cheers. Goal. The puck is in the back of the net, and the camera zooms in on the player who scored- number 86, the name Hughes emblazoned on his back. One of his teammates comes skating towards him, nearly shoving him into the wall, and-

You gasp when the camera settles on his face. Number 13, Hischier. Nico Hischier, you would assume, unless Dog Park Nico has a doppleganger hanging around Newark. A doppleganger who also works for the Devils. You work for the Devils? Basically. Oh. Nora doesn’t seem to notice anything, but Alyssa turns to you slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait,” she says. “You wanted me to rewind it, to where?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter.

She’s staring at you, while you stare at the TV screen. “You said Dog Park Guy’s name was Nico,” she says, brows furrowed. “What’s his last name?”

You shrug. “Haven’t asked him yet.”

She blinks once, then twice, and when you see Nico on the screen again, you must react, because she leans over and grabs your face. She pulls you to look at her, then at the screen. She grabs the remote and pauses it, and Nico’s face fills up the whole picture. He’s grinning wide.

“What’s happening right now?” Nora asks. “Somebody fill me in.”

Alyssa points at the screen. “That man, right there, is the team captain. Hischier,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Nico Hischier.”

Nora gasps. You shrink down into yourself. You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the screen. It’s definitely him. You’d know that face anywhere. You can see the smile, can picture it in the dog park as he pets your dog.

“Is that Dog Park Guy?” Nora asks. You nod, figuring there’s no point in lying now. “Oh my god, you didn’t mention he was hot.”

Alyssa groans. “I’ve never been more jealous of you in my life.”

“You’re engaged,” Nora reminds her.

“I know,” Alyssa sighs. “But god, he’s dreamy.”

Nora nods. You curl further in on yourself and reach for the remote to hit play. The game starts back up again, and you try to pretend you’re not watching for his number. Nora and Alyssa don’t let it go for the rest of the night. You have a feeling they won’t be letting it go for a while.

When you see him next Wednesday at the dog park, you greet him with, “Hiya, Cap.”

You’ve walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bernie and Moose are rolling around in fallen leaves. Nico smiles at you at first, and then, as if he’s realized what you said, he jolts. His brows furrow, and you grin.

“You work for the Devils, huh?” You tease, grinning widely.

His cheeks go red, and he laughs. “You said you didn’t care about hockey.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “But my friend Alyssa does, and she had the game on when I was at her place the other day, and imagine my surprise when I looked up at the screen and saw you on the ice.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn’t tell you because I thought it’d come off as bragging.”

Moose barks, and you both turn to look, but he’s just playing with Bernie. The two of them have found a stick in the leaves, and they’re pulling back and forth. Bernie has a leaf stuck to her nose, and it makes you smile even more.

“It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it?” You ask. “Lyss said you’re like. A rockstar. Team captain, first round draft pick-“

“Oh, she went way back,” he teases.

“She’s a Jersey girl,” you say with a shrug. “You’re lucky she’s already engaged or she’d be here, too.”

He laughs louder at that, and his shoulder bumps against yours. Across the grass, your dogs roll around on the ground, happy as can be. It makes you smile wider, makes your heart warm.

…..

Early fall turns into late fall, a change that brings with it colder weather, something you’re already regretting not noticing. Nico frowns when he sees you in the park. He makes his way over as Bernie runs to greet Moose, and he has his brows furrowed. He’s wearing a beanie and a thick hoodie, and you envy him.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, tugging at the hood of your thin sweatshirt, which you have pulled tightly over your head. “Where’s your coat? And a beanie, maybe?”

You shrug and bury your hands deeper in your pockets- you don’t want him to see you’re not wearing gloves either. “I live on the third floor. It looked warm out, and by the time I got outside, there was no way I was dragging him back upstairs.”

You shrink slightly under the disapproving look he gives you. He sighs heavily, and you smile at him, like that’ll make it better. You want nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, press yourself into his body and soak up some of the heat. You’re sure he’s warm. He just looks like he runs warm.

You don’t stay long at the park, because your hands are freezing and so is your face. Nico bids you farewell with a little wave, and you rush home to your warm apartment.

Two days later, when you show up to the dog park, Nico’s already there. Bernie’s running circles around him, barking happily. She skids to a stop when she spots Moose, and you let him off the leash to join her. Nico waves, a big grin on his face as the two dogs take off together.

“Still no beanie?” He teases, shaking his head.

“I thought the cold day was a fluke,” you mutter grumpily, hands shoved in your pockets. “I worked from home today. I didn’t know it was this cold.”

Nico continues to shake his head. His next move is so unexpected you don’t quite realize what he’s doing until it’s over- he pulls a beanie from his pocket and pulls it onto your head for you, adjusting it carefully with narrowed eyes. You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. Then he slips his jacket off his shoulders.

“Nico-“ you protest as he wraps it around you.

“I wore layers, and I’m warm,” he says, holding the jacket around your shoulders and waiting until you slip your arms through the sleeves reluctantly. “Better?”

His jacket is warm and cozy, and you smile and nod. “Much better.”

He grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges. His cheeks are flushed, and it makes your face feel warm, too. You shove your hands in your pockets- his pockets- and turn back to watch the dogs, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him. The very first flakes of snow of the year begin to fall. Moose and Bernie don’t seem to notice. If Nico notices the way you lean close to him, trying to shelter yourself from the cold, he doesn’t say anything.

…..

The next time you see Nico, he’s stressed. He’s got his beanie off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Bernie, as if she senses his distress, is sitting at his feet patiently, even though her leash is off. You let Moose run over. He sniffs at Bernie, then at Nico’s knee, and whines.

“You’re really bringing down the mood,” you call out.

Nico’s head whips up, bottom lip still tugged between his teeth. Something twists in your chest. You don’t like to see him upset like this, you realize. You’re growing far too attached. And yet. Here you are.

You cock your head questioningly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. Just- my usual dog sitter apparently moved and didn’t tell me until this morning, and I have to be out of town starting tomorrow, and so now I’m trying to find someone to watch her or somewhere to board her and-“

“I can take her,” you blurt out.

His rambling comes to a screeching halt, and he blinks at you. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, or…”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head and smiling. “Her and Moose get along great, and I already know half of her routine. And I think she likes me alright, too. It wouldn’t be a hassle.”

Nico puffs out his cheeks, glancing up at the sky. “That would be… are you sure? Because. I mean-“

“Nico,” you say, softly. His gaze flickers back to yours. “I’d love to watch her. How long are you gonna be gone?”

He bites his lip again. “Friday through Sunday.”

You nod. “Easy peasy.”

You should probably be expecting it, just because it seems like something he would do, but you yelp a little when he hauls you against his chest. You hug him back, though, and laugh into his shoulder, and the dogs both bark at your feet. Then Bernie takes off running, as if she knows everything is fine now. Moose follows happily.

“Thank you,” he says, chest rumbling against you, and your breath catches.

“Anytime,” you respond. You mean it.

He drops Bernie off the next morning before you start work for the day. He texts you from the lobby of your apartment building to let you know they’re headed up, which is sweet. You hear Bernie before he knocks on the door, and when you open it, Moose perks up from his dog bed. He’s up within seconds, tail wagging, searching through his pile of toys for one to bring Bernie.

“Look at them,” you coo, watching the two dogs greet each other happily. “We’re gonna have such a fun weekend, aren’t we, Bernie?”

Nico’s smiling, too, when you look up and meet his gaze. He has a dog bed tucked under one arm, and a bag of other supplies in the other. You let the dogs play while he unpacks the stuff on your kitchen counter and tells you what little you don’t know about Bernie’s routine. When she eats, what toys are her favorites, and so on.

“Normally I tell people about the dog park,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But you already know that.”

You nod eagerly. In the living room, Bernie is sniffing Moose’s dog bed.

“Oh, um. Sometimes for the first bit she won’t want to eat,” he says. “I got her when she was young, and it was during the lockdown, so. She wasn’t used to being away from me. She’s gotten better about it, but… if she goes too long, you can put a little cheese on her food and that usually helps.”

You nod in understanding. “Moose was the same the first time I left him. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Nico laughs. “I think this is actually the least worried I’ve been about leaving her, ever.”

You set up Bernie’s dog bed in the living room, a little ways away from Moose’s to give them each their space. Nico lays out her favorite toys for her, and a threadbare red hoodie that you’d bet used to be his. He wavers in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching as Bernie inspects her stuff. It makes your chest ache a little bit. He seems reluctant to leave.

“D’you have time to sit for a little bit?” You ask. “I have plenty of coffee.”

He turns over his shoulder and grins. “Coffee would be great.”

It should probably feel strange, to have Dog Park Guy sitting at your kitchen table, sipping coffee out of a big mug that looks small in his hands, but it doesn’t. It feels almost natural. Like this was always how this was going to go. He tells you about the away game he’s going to play, about their odds and the other team and how he’s stuck sharing a hotel room with Jack, who he loves but who also talks in his sleep loudly and denies it. You laugh and commiserate & complain to him about your work day, which is full of meetings. By the time the coffee is gone, he doesn’t really seem to want to leave, but he tells you he has to finish packing and get to the rink, and you’ve got a meeting anyways, so. You walk him to the door. He crouches down to pet Bernie one more time, and lets out a big sigh.

“I’ll see you all soon,” he says, smiling. “Have a good weekend.”

Bernie sits down and stares at him. You see his smile waver, so you step forward and pat the top of her head gently, then scratch behind her ears the way you’ve seen Nico do so often.

“Be safe,” you tell him. “We’ll be here waiting.”

Bernie does get a little sad just after he leaves. You feel for her, because you’re strangely sad about him being gone, too. You take most of your work meetings from the couch so she can curl up with her head on your lap. Moose keeps bringing over his favorite toys and dropping them off for her, but she doesn’t take much interest. Nico texts around lunchtime, just before he’s getting on a plane, and asks how it’s going. You send back a picture of her head in your lap, your work meeting in the background.

she seems very interested in Carol’s progress report.

Nico sends back a little laughing emoji, and then She looks cozy. Thank you again!

After work, you leash up both dogs and walk down to the dog park. You want to keep Bernie’s routine as consistent as possible. The two of them do so well together, walking happily, never tugging on the leashes. You snap a pic of them, and send that to Nico, too. He probably won’t see it for a while.

Once you’re at the dog park, you let them off leash to run around. They take off together, barking happily, kicking up piles of dead leaves like the always do. You sit on a bench and fight the urge to text Nico.

It’s just that in the couple of months since you finally spoke to him, you’ve found yourself really looking forward to your dog park chats. Venting about your days or catching up or telling fun stories about your dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been gone, but it’s the first time it’s hit you like this. It’s odd.

You take them both home eventually, calling them over and clipping on the leashes. Back in your apartment, it’s dinnertime- you heat up leftovers for yourself and give the dogs their food. You try not to watch Bernie like a hawk. Nico had said she might not want to eat at first. But when you do sneak a peek, they’re both eating happily. You breathe a sigh of relief- she must feel comfortable enough.

They wander off into the living room before you do, and what you find makes you stop in your tracks. Bernie’s got her dog bed in her mouth, dragging it over next to Moose’s. He sits on his bed happily, wagging his tail at you. Bernie drops the bed and immediately curls up on it, letting out one of her signature big sighs, the ones that Nico always copies. You let out a matching sigh, and she wags her tail.

You snap a picture of the two of them curled up next to each other and send it off to Nico.

He replies just before you roll over to go to sleep. Did she move her bed??

Yup, you answer. Ate all her dinner, too

He takes a while to type his response.

Adorable. Thank you. Again.

…..

You’re not a hockey fan. You know this about yourself. You’ve watched games enough times to know this. But when Saturday rolls around, you turn on the game anyway. Bernie should watch the game, after all. She should watch her dad play.

You cuddle up on the couch with both dogs, who are definitely paying less attention to the screen than you are. They both fall asleep halfway through the first period, and you roll your eyes. You could turn it off, but you find that you don’t want to. It’s suddenly different when you have a reason to be invested. Nico’s on the ice, at least for some of the time.

When he scores, you cheer so loudly you startle both dogs awake. They look around, bewildered. You snap a pic of the two of them with the tv in the background and send it to him.

Bernie & Moose say good job!!

He doesn’t answer until you’re in bed for the night, again. Time differences and media responsibilities and all that. He heart reacts to the photo, and then you watch him type for a couple moments, the little dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.

How’d you like the game? He asks.

You waffle a bit on what to say back. You wonder if he’s paying enough attention to notice you’re taking a while to answer, or if he’s moved on.

You settle for sending back, it’s a lot more fun to watch when i’m cheering for you

He’s typing back nearly immediately. My good luck charm!

You laugh and lock the phone, setting it down on the nightstand. Bernie and Moose are curled up in bed with you, snoring away. You’re not sure why you feel so happy, but you hope it brings you good dreams.

Nico gets back into town late Sunday afternoon.

There’s a knock on your apartment door. From the couch, you call out “Come in!”

You hear him kick off his shoes in the entryway as he calls out a greeting. He pads towards the living room, and you lean up slightly to see him as he walks in.

“You should really lock your door, you know,” he says. “I could’ve been anyone.”

“But you’re you,” you lilt as he rounds the corner of the couch. “Besides, I’ve got my guard dogs.”

He eyes you skeptically. The dogs are in their same spots as the picture you sent him yesterday. Moose is curled against your chest, while Bernie is laid out over your legs. You’re tucked under a blanket, smiling up at him. Neither of the dogs have moved a muscle, from the knock on the door until now.

“Great guard dogs,” Nico teases.

“Well, they know you. Bernie, look who’s here,” you say. His dog lifts her head, wagging her tail slightly. You shrug. “Guess she likes me more.”

“Can’t blame her,” Nico says, stretching his arms above his head. “You guys look cozy.”

“And you look tired.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but he does. There are purple shadows beneath his eyes, his hair is a mess. The scrubs along his jaw looks to be at least a day old, by your guess.

He snorts. “Thanks. I am.”

You pout. “You could join us, if you want.”

You shift your feet slightly to open up a space for him on the other end of the couch. He eyes the spot with a tired gaze, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. You’re trying to ask casually, to pretend like it won’t make a difference to you one way or the other if he stays or not, but you really do hope he sits down. You’ve missed him- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve missed him.

“If I do that I’m definitely gonna pass out,” he warns, voice quieter. “Probably for an extended period of time.”

You nod. “I’d expect nothing less.”

He huffs and drops his car keys on the coffee table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laugh when he climbs his way onto the couch. He sits down at the opposite end, his legs side by side with yours. The dogs move to accommodate him, though not without their own grumbling about it. Bernie finally gives in and gets excited to see him, fumbling her way onto his lap. He wraps his arms around his dog and snuggles in, all while you watch, unable to pull your gaze away, heart pounding in your chest. He’s here, in your apartment, on your couch. He looks so soft.

When he falls asleep in no more than ten minutes, it makes you feel even warmer. He trusts you enough to fall asleep here. Bernie is curled against his chest, also falling asleep, reunited at last. You find yourself dozing off, too, brought on by how comfortable it all feels.

You wake up to Bernie pacing back and forth on the living room floor, and Moose standing on the couch, his nose in Nico’s face. You scramble to push the dog away with muffled words and limited success. Nico sniffles and raises his head, scrunching his eyes shut in the face of the sun coming in through your window.

“Sorry,” you whisper, fighting the urge to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. “They're getting antsy.”

He’s adorable when he’s just woken up, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pets Moose with the other. You get up and start to gather the dogs’ things while he continues to wake up. By the time you’ve got them both leashed up, he’s sitting up on the couch, brighter eyes than before.

“Best nap of my life,” he says.

You think of how much you wanted to cuddle up on his chest, and you wonder if that would take the winning spot.

Nico puts on his jacket at the door, taps his foot impatiently until you roll your eyes and pull on a jacket of your own, and then the two of you head out, dogs in tow. You keep your hands shoved in your pockets, but when you get to the dog park he hands you a pair of gloves, glaring playfully at you. You put them on, feeling warm and fuzzy, and not just from the fabric around your hands. You let the dogs off the leashes in the fenced in area, and you watch them run off through the light snow.

You bump your elbow against his. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

He nods, leans towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah. M’good. Just tired.”

You nod in understanding. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

You head over to a nearby bench and sink down. He follows suit. And. It’s cold, so really, that’s probably why he sits so close, his thigh against yours, his side pressed to your side. But then he shifts slightly, and his arm falls to the top of the bench behind you. You try not to hold your breath. Across the park, Bernie and Moose bark happily. You lean your head against Nico’s shoulder, and he sighs happily, resting his head against yours.

He sighs. “Wake me up when they’ve worn themselves out.”

He’s joking- he doesn’t fall asleep, you’d be able to tell. You can feel his breaths, can feel him shift every so often, and he laughs when the dogs tackle each other in the snow. But he stays right there, curled against you, warmer than any jacket or pair of gloves could ever be.

…..

When people say it takes a village, you’re pretty sure it could be said about having dogs, too. You’re amazed at how much easier things are when you have Nico to help out. He’s insistent that he owes you one for watching Bernie, but it really turns into the two of you just trading dog duties.

You get held over at the office on one of the rare days you have to be in person, and he picks up Moose and takes him along to the park with Bernie. Nico gets stuck in traffic on the way home from a game in New York City, and you do the same, leaving a container of leftovers in the fridge for him, too. The dog park meetups and coffee shop hangouts keep happening, much to your benefit. You like spending time with him. Probably a bit more than is healthy, really, but you can’t exactly help it. He’s sweet, and funny, and handsome, too, to top it all off.

When you call him early on a Tuesday evening, you know he’ll pick up, because he’s done with practice for the day. He probably assumes you’re checking what time he’s going to be at the dog park, or letting him know you and Moose won’t be there. He gets nervous, now, if you don’t show up. Texts to make sure you’re alright. It’s endearing.

“Hello,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break Bernie’s heart and miss out on the dog park tonight.”

“Hi, no- my… my power’s out,” you say, sounding as frantic as you feel. “And like. It’s fine, I’ll survive, but it’s already cold in here, and Moose is giving me evil eyes. But I can’t find any dog friendly hotels, so I was wondering if maybe you could take him for the night-“

Nico laughs on the other end. “Come stay with us. Both of you.”

You pause your digging through the cupboards. “Oh, you don’t have to- that’s okay, Nico-“

“I mean it,” he says, firmly. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. And I just ordered way too much pizza, actually. Come over, bring Moose. Bernie’s bored, anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you tell him.

“You could never,” he says. “If you’re not here within a half hour, I’m driving over there to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can protest again, and you turn to Moose with a sigh. Then you start packing for both of you. 20 minutes later, you’re in the elevator up to Nico’s place, trying not to freak out about all of it.

He lets you in before you even have a chance to knock. Maybe it’s just the fact that your place was cold, but when he ushers you inside, it feels like he’s cranked the heat up a few degrees. Bernie comes racing to the entryway, whining excitedly at the sight of Moose, and you grin down at the two dogs. Then you look up at Nico and find him smiling, too.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” he offers, nodding his head towards the rest of the apartment. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

It all feels oddly domestic, staying with him. You eat dinner together and watch the news- a habit he picked up from a roommate back in his days playing hockey in Canada, he tells you. Moose and Bernie cuddle up in the middle between the two of you, which you sort of hate. You want an excuse to lean into his side.

You get one when you get up to go to the bathroom. You come back, and both dogs have moved into your spot. Nico smiles up at you and shrugs, patting the spot right next to him. You take a seat without protesting, settling into the soft sofa. He moves the blanket he’s been using so it falls over your lap and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your head. It probably means nothing, but being so close to him feels nice. Comforting.

When you start to doze off, he nudges you awake and towards the guest room. You fight the urge to lean up and kiss his cheek when he says goodnight. Moose follows you into the room, and you shut the door behind you.

You want to kiss Nico. This is becoming a problem.

It’s just. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a good friend, he helps you take care of your dog, he’s letting you stay with him. But he’s an athlete, and they usually date other famous people, not their dog park friends. You’ve got no chance, probably.

You would roll over and scream into the pillow, but you’re afraid he’d hear it anyways.

…..

You’re standing in his kitchen early the next morning when the front door creaks open. You freeze in surprise- you’d assumed from the fan running in Nico’s bedroom, and the quiet of the apartment, that he’d still been asleep. Maybe he’d gone out for a run already, or had gone to take Bernie for a walk. Footsteps echo in the entryway, and you hear someone trip over a pair of shoes. The muttered swear word is definitely not said in Nico’s voice, and panic bites at your chest. You reach for one of the knives on the counter and hold it at your side. Moose, seeming to sense your anxiety, steps in front of your legs. Your phone sits too far away on the counter, and you swallow. You could yell for Nico, but then whoever is in his apartment would hear you, too.

The footsteps fall closer. The man appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and he jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sight of you, hand pressed to his chest. He looks familiar, with his almost shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears- one of Nico’s teammates. There’s a photo of the two of them hanging on the wall in the living room. You drop the knife on the counter discreetly when he isn’t looking.

“You’re not Nico,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“Neither are you,” you state, heart still racing.

He laughs at that and eyes the dog in front of you. “And that’s not Bernie, huh?”

He leans towards the dog, and Moose presses against your legs and growls. You gasp. Apparently, he hasn’t quite gotten the memo that whoever this guy is, he isn’t a threat. You reach for his collar.

“Moose,” you say in a scolding tone.

“Oh,” the man says, drawing out the noise, a look of understanding washing over his face. “Cool wolf. Is he gonna bite me? I have hockey practice later.”

There’s a flurry of noise before you can respond, and Bernie comes loping into the kitchen. She beelines for the guy, and at that, Moose lets his guard down, his tail wagging happily again. You roll your eyes. A great guard dog until his friend likes the guy, then all bets are off. Nico appears in the kitchen, scratching his head, and his eyes go wide when he spots his teammate.

“Jack,” he says, and the man turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

The man rubs his face sheepishly. Your dog scurries over to Nico, sniffing at his ankles excitedly. Your gaze bounces back and forth between the two men.

“You’re Jack,” you say, looking at the early morning intruder.

He nods.

You laugh. “I hear you talk in your sleep.”

Nico sighs while Jack tries desperately to deny it.

Ten minutes later, once Nico’s explained the whole situation, they head off on a run. They take Bernie and Moose with them, on Nico’s suggestion, because both dogs could use a bit of exercise, and, in his words, Jack could use a bit of motivation. While they’re out, you take a moment to tidy up your stuff, and you do the dishes from the night before. Nico had insisted you were welcome to any of the food in the house, so you whip up a light breakfast of cut fruit and yogurt, making sure to save some for him.

He returns a while later, both dogs in tow, minus Jack. He gives you a sheepish smile, sweaty locks of hair falling over his forehead. His t-shirt is clinging to his skin, damp with sweat despite the chill outside. You chew on a piece of strawberry and try not to stare at him.

“Sorry about him,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I forgot he was coming over. He called, but I had my phone turned down and I slept through it.”

You shrug. “Nico, it’s fine, it’s your apartment,” you say. “Though I did have a knife ready, so he’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”

Nico laughs and takes a couple steps into the kitchen, leaning on his hands on the counter. “The Devils hockey organization thanks you for your hesitation.”

You laugh and nod. “I have breakfast, if you want some.”

When he squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, you try not to let it show how nice it feels.

“Thanks, schatz,” he says.

You don’t know much German, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean friend.

…..

Nico goes to practice a bit later and then comes back. The power at your place stays out for the rest of the day. You keep checking, trying to make sure. Realistically, now, you could call Alyssa or Nora and ask to stay with them, instead, but when you offer, Nico looks offended at the suggestion.

He’s laying on the floor with Bernie and Moose both sprawled over him. “I mean. If you want to go, you can, obviously.”

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you tell him.

He shakes his head and lets it drop back to the floor. Moose shoves his nose under Nico’s chin. “You’re not.”

That’s pretty much the end of the discussion. The two of you take the dogs out to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, a place Nico tells you is dog friendly. He makes sure you’re both bundled up adequately for the chilly walk there and back. In the afternoon, you get some work done on your laptop, Bernie’s head on your lap, while Nico scrolls aimlessly on his phone and plays tug of war with Moose. The routine feels scarily easy to settle into. You make dinner together, pasta and chicken and broccoli. You move around one another with ease, like moons in each other’s orbits. The dogs wait patiently in the living room while you cook. Nico gives them pieces of chicken for their good behavior, and then you dish out dog food while he refills their water bowls. It’s nice. It’s so nice. You’re trying desperately not to get attached to this, to him.

You wake up the next morning to Moose and Bernie in your bed, a text from Nico saying he took them on their morning walk before he left for morning skate, and an alert from your apartment complex that the power is back on. You sigh, kiss the top of Bernie’s head, and roll back over in bed.

He’s gone for most of the day, today, between practices and media requirements and meetings with the team that he’d complained about to you the night before. You could pack up and leave before he gets back, but then you’d be leaving Bernie alone, and it feels weird to not say goodbye to Nico after he let you stay here. So you spend the day how you were planning to, and gather up your things bit by bit.

Nico comes home in the afternoon when you’re halfway packed, and he stands in the doorway of the guest room, seemingly hesitant. He’s frowning. Your heart lurches.

“My power’s back on,” you say quietly.

“Oh,” he responds. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

You nod. “Just realized I’ll probably have to clean out my fridge, and get new groceries, but yeah. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowns, nose wrinkling. “You weren’t in my hair.”

You blink at him. “I just meant… you can have your own space back. You must be sick of us by now.”

Nico wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet. You’re holding one of your t-shirts, and you pull it close to your chest. There’s something hanging in the air.

“I don’t think I’d ever get sick of you,” he says. A spark runs down your spine. “I liked having you here.”

You blink, unsure what to do with yourself suddenly. “I, uh, liked being here. You’re a great host, you know.”

He shrugs, then nods. He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the motion. Then he releases his grip on the doorframe and takes a couple steps into the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and you try to keep your breathing steady as he walks towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” He asks, looking hopeful.

You blink up at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Guess it depends on what we’re having.”

You’re trying to be brave about this. Trying to go with the flow, be casual. Maybe he’s just got a meal planned for two, maybe he needs your help to make it. You don’t want to read into it, even as he comes so close that you could reach out and touch him, that you can smell his shampoo and cologne. One of the dogs barks in the living room. You both ignore it, unable to tear your eyes away from each other. The air feels electric.

His hand comes up to touch your cheek, fingertips featherlight. You swallow. Your heart is pounding in your chest. He’s grinning, like he knows it. So sure of whatever he’s about to say.

“I thought maybe we could go out,” he says, casually. “Just me and you, somewhere nice. Let the dogs hang out here and keep each other company.”

You blink, take a breath, nod. “Okay. I can stay for dinner.”

“Cool,” he says, trying to be nonchalant about it. His wide grin gives him away. “Then it’s a date.”

Your breath catches in your chest, but you nod. “It’s a date.”

When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you swear the world stops spinning. When he pulls away it spins faster than it ever has before. You watch him walk away, dumbfounded, heart racing, skin burning.

All that worrying about it all, and it was that easy?

…..

At dinner, you both come to terms with the fact that you can’t really call this your first date. The two of you are too comfortable already, too at ease with each other. Nico claims the real first date was the coffee shop, months ago. You claim it was the day he came to pick up Bernie and took a nap on your couch.

“So I was asleep for half of our first date?” He says, nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”

“Well if it was the coffee shop, then I didn’t get your number for weeks after,” you retort. “So that would be weird.”

Eventually the two of you decide to agree to disagree. Maybe it happened somewhere in the middle without you even realizing. But now it feels official and real, over seafood and wine and warm bread. Nico’s face is lit by the candles on the table, and he holds your hand half the night.

Hours later, you stumble out of the restaurant, wine tipsy and giggling as you lean against his arm. He’s laughing, too, until he’s not, until he’s holding you by your hips on an empty sidewalk, waiting for a cab to roll by. You stare up at him, the dark night sky and city lights behind his head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, quietly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you reply.

Nico kisses exactly the way you’d imagined- soft and sweet, at first, in a way that makes you feel everything. And then his tongue slips past your lips and his grip on your hips tightens and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. It’s a bit all consuming, threatens to leave you breathless, sends shocks across your skin.

He gets you into a cab and gives his address, and then he leans against you, his lips against your temple, his hand intertwined with yours. He speaks quietly against your skin.

“I’ll follow your lead here,” he says, quietly. “If you wanna take Moose and head home, I completely understand.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Okay,” you say, deciding to leave him hanging. He laughs against your skin like he knows what you’re doing.

When the car pulls up in front of Nico’s apartment building, you step outside while he pays the fare. He grabs your hand again to lead you inside, through the lobby, and towards the elevator. He’s watching your every move, you can feel it- he’s trying to read you. You think he probably sees right through your little game, but that’s okay.

When the elevator doors slide closed, you turn to him, threading your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“You should ask me to stay over,” you whisper, leaning up to brush your lips against his ear.

He groans softly, his hand falling to rest on your hip. “Yeah?”

You nod.

He swallows. “You want to stay over?” He asks, voice breathy. His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he brushes a kiss there.

You lean in to kiss him again. You think that’s answer enough.

The two of you tumble into his apartment a few minutes later, hands wrapped tightly in each other’s. You muffle your giggles with your other hand, and Nico does the same with his own. The dogs are curled up on their dog beds in the living room, snoring away. You take off your shoes carefully, and the two of you tiptoe through the apartment. If you wake Moose, he’ll be needy, begging for attention. Bernie will be the same with Nico.

You make it to the bedroom, and within seconds, Nico’s on you, pressed up against the closed bedroom door. He latches his lips onto your neck, and you sigh happily. His hands are already roaming everywhere, and your whole body is on fire.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, between kisses, and you melt.

“Positive,” you say, already gasping for air. “Please, Nico.”

He groans into your skin, and you both start to fall apart.

Later, you lay in bed, your cheek against his bare chest. His hand sweeps up and down your back smoothly. You can hear his heart beating, feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths. There’s a lot of things you want to say, but they all feel far too intimate for a first time on a maybe third date, so you keep your mouth shut. You settle for drawing shapes on his skin until he shivers and laughs.

Seconds later, there’s a dog scratching at the door. Moose whines. Then, so does Bernie. You groan into Nico’s chest.

“They’re so needy,” you grumble.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he responds.

He pulls away before you can retaliate, reaching for his t-shirt and tossing it to you. You pull it on as he tugs on a pair of shorts. Then he opens the door. Two fur covered, heat seeking missiles come shooting onto the bed, barreling into you, making themselves comfortable atop the covers. Nico crawls back into bed before he loses his spot, nudging Bernie out of the way so he can pull you back into his arms.

Moose rests his head against your side. You rub behind his ears as Nico does the same with Bernie. Something about this moment just feels right. The way the four of you all curl up together, around each other, held tight and warm and safe.

Nico kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You kiss his shoulder. “G’night, Nico.”

In the dark, Bernie whines.

“And goodnight to you too, Berns,” you laugh, reaching over to pat her head.

…..

Nico stops in the parking lot, his arm around the back of your seat. You continue staring out the windshield. In the backseat, Bernie and Moose wag their tails happily. You hope he can’t see where you’re holding onto the seat tightly with your right hand.

“Hey,” he says. His hand brushes against your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if they all hate me?” You ask.

Nico scoffs. “Then they’re all stupid.”

“Nico…”

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning over, pressing his lips to your temple. “You met Jack, scared the shit out of him, and he still asks about you all the time. And you’ll have the dogs. That’ll win them over immediately.”

You sigh and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. “You’re their captain. What if I don’t live up to the… I don’t know, Nico-“

He cups your face in his hand and turns your head towards his. There’s a soft, kind smile on his face. You bite your lip.

“You don’t need to live up to anything,” he says, firmly. “I want you there, that’s enough. And if you want to leave, you just tell me. We’ve got the dogs as an excuse.”

You nod. He pinches your cheek lightly, and you laugh. When he climbs out of the car, you follow suit. Moose and Bernie are itching to get out of the backseat- you each unbuckle one dog and get them ready to go inside.

In the stadium, he stops and helps you get the dogs ready- winter coats for them to wear, little shoes to protect their feet that you’ve been getting them used to for months now. Moose still glares at you a bit when you first put them on, but he gets over it quickly.

Nico laces up his own skates and helps you, too, and then it’s out onto the rink, under the lights, staring up at the big empty stadium. The dogs stay close at first, getting used to the slippery surface.

Everyone is here- his teammates, their families, their friends. When he’d invited you, you’d nearly broken down into tears- you know how much it means to him, how much he loves this team and this sport. You’re honored he wants to share it with you. You were the one who suggested bringing the dogs, too. Now, out on the ice, you’re thrilled it all ended up like this.

“Cool wolf,” Jack says, as he skates by. “Hey, Luke- you know what his name is?”

Luke shakes his head.

“Moose,” Jack says, and Luke sighs. “Which one of you is the cuter one, huh?”

“Definitely the dog,” Nico says, squeezing your hand.

“You all suck,” Luke says. He turns to you and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Not you. You seem great.”

Nico hooks his elbow in yours and nudges you gently. “Wanna do a lap?”

You smile and nod, and he starts to pull you around on the ice. The dogs follow happily, having found their footing. Across the ice, some of the kids point at them excitedly. You think back to the dog park, so long ago, now, and the lady and her dog Bessie. If she’d never gotten angry with you, would you and Nico have ever spoken? Or would you have just stared at each other from across the park forever? You’re not sure you want to know. You’re just happy it ended up the way it did.

“I love you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He blushes and grins, dimple popping up on his face. “I love you too, schatz.”

He kisses you on the lips, then, a quick peck that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat. At your feet, Moose whines, and Bernie follows suit. You and Nico sigh.

“And we love you two, too,” you say, shaking your head at the dogs.

“So needy,” Nico says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you tease, elbowing him.

He grins impossibly wider. You feel warm enough to melt the ice beneath your feet. He tends to have that affect on you, and you don’t think it’ll ever grow old.

thanks for reading!!

[rinirinisbestu]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!! SO ahem PLOT!!!

It's Valentine's Day and the kids are going to make a cake for each other and a cake for Bessie and Milford, BUT Bessie and Milford have a date and they CAN'T help the kids make it! (and making it without adults is dangerous!!!) So their loyal hero comes to the rescue!

But Sportacus wonders if everyone will get a treat? The kids… The Mayor… Miss Busybody… Wait a minute… someone is left without a treat for the holiday… That's Robbie!! That won't do, he deserves a present and love too! So when Sportacus tells the kids about it, they offer HIM to make a cake for Robbie! (under the kids' supervision, of course) And he tries!!!

Well, yes, Robbie is a pest and he is too silly... and I also like to headcanon that Sportacus doesn't really understand human holidays but he TRYS

I also wanted to write a fanfic about this plot, but God, I can't write! Well, I just didn't have time. But… purely theoretically… If any of you want to write about it, I wouldn't be against it at all!

Oh, and I also have a SPEEDPAINT of this drawing!!! here you go:

Soooo hope you like it! Love yaaa!!! Happy Valentine's day!

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Maybe it’s just me? But I just have this feeling that the second Arthur Morgan hears that you’re pregnant with his baby, he’d leave it all behind.

All of it.

Anyway, it’s not like he’s never thought of it before. The way he asked Hosea about his little time away with Bessie, the remorse he feels for Isaac and Eliza, the attention he gives for Abigail and Jack? I’m just so sure that if you’re carrying his child, it’s over for him.

He isn’t exactly sure of how it’ll work but he sure as hell ain’t repeating the cycle. Especially not when the love he had for you wasn’t born out of responsibility or necessity.

And you actually loved him in return.

Second thoughts had only costed him so much. And yet, God gave him a second chance. It was still hard for him to believe there was an entity so kind. Let alone to someone like him.

He’s good at many things, smart, strong. Dutch’s most trusted for a reason. He’d get by. He might hate the idea at first; being apart of a society that judged people like him, experiencing the unfair difficulties of the working class..

But if it meant being present for his kid, being able to protect them and give them the life that he or Isaac or Jack never got? He would. Hardship isn’t anything he’s unfamiliar with.

And oh, he would treat you in all the ways that Abigail or Eliza never let him. Put a ring on your finger, be there every step of the way, be the steadfast rock that you can lean on.

Despite the baby being an accident, he was always so sure of you.

It was no longer something he wanted to do for the better. But a real marriage, for better as well as for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and cherish. Till death do us part.

It’s a little funny how daunting it all was at first compared to how you couldn’t be happier now. Living this struggle of a life with your baby and your husband, the outlaw who constantly had blood on his hands.

And he’ll forever thank you despite the seemingly difficult circumstances. Fatherhood and other dreams, you’ve made it come true.

His very own little family that looks at him like he put stars in the sky, that looks at him like he is a good man <3

This kinda came to me out of nowhere and I made myself cry a little lol!!!!!!! In my mind he is happy and healthy FOREVER and only dies of old age!!!

wrote a part 2-ish to this!! <3

my masterlist

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

[askgeraudduroc]

Bessi now that your husband is not listening(presumably at least) 😏 time to finally spill the tea, who’s better in bed Murat or Duroc ??

...Why should I speak about such a thing to an stranger???

...

*sigh*

Apologies... This whole things is really getting into my nerves.

Being honest, it is very hard to choose one, as both are... Incredibly different. So i couldn't give you an answer, anon.

[sleepymarimo]

𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕦𝕟!

summary: for an upcoming fall festival, you and a fellow crew mate get paired up for some fun! pairing(s): east blue gang!! luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, nami x gn!reader, usopp x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader can be platonic or romantic, up to you! cw: none! just some fall and halloween themed fluff. short but sweet. wc: about 250 for each an: fluff!!!

luffy and usopp are arm in arm, engaging in a small and upbeat dance and chanting. "festival, festival!"

there's a soft breeze in the air, shaking the trees and causing leaves of red and orange and yellow to fall onto the deck of the going merry. it had been a couple of days since the ship had docked on an autumn island, where a huge fall festival was underway. the citizens were dressed in all sorts of costumes, clearly taking this celebration seriously.

from your spot on the railing, you observe the scene with a small chuckle. there was never a dull moment with this crew...

the ever eager captain is about to run off, when nami grabs him and pulls him back. "hold on!" she huffs, knowing he'd be reckless. "let's split up into groups. otherwise someone will get into trouble-" she glares at luffy. "-or lost." she gives a pointed look to zoro, who clicks his tongue and looks away.

sanji exits from the kitchen, swooning over the auburn-haired navigator and throwing a soft smile your way. "nami-swan is right." he concurs, taking a second to exhale a puff of smoke. "there are six of us, so groups of two should be fine... so long as luffy and the stupid swordsman don't get paired up."

a vein ticks on zoro's forehead and it isn't long before the two are exchanging blows.

usopp, already on it, runs up to you with two cups. in each, there are bundled pieces of paper. "one cup has our names and the other has costumes!" he explains, quite proud of himself. "go for it!"

thanking the sniper, you reach both hands out and blindly place them into each of the cups, shuffling the pieces of paper around until you pulled out two of them.

unwrapping the crumpled notes, you reveal who your festival buddy is...

luffy

the ever enthusiastic captain strolls by your side, your hand holding his in order to prevent him from running off and causing trouble without you. it doesn't stop him from trying though, his arm stretching plenty far before you either gently tug him back or simply follow after him.

he's dressed in a onesie of a monkey, while you wear a onesie of an animal of your choice. they provided a nice warmth which beat out the autumnn chill, not to mention that they were ridiculously comfortable.

he calls your name, his hand tightening around yours as his smile grows. "look at that over there! they have apples in those buckets! that's so weird!"

his smile is infectious and you follow along, laughing slightly. "it's an apple bobbing game, luffy." your eyes wander over the large buckets and the shiny apples floating in the water.

the captain's eyes grow wide with amazement. "woah! let's play!"

unfortunately, luffy doesn't seem to get the gist of the game. when he dunks his head under the water, he simply eats the apples whole, not coming up until each one is gone. when he lifts his head out of the water, all the apples are visibly bulging from his throat before he swallows them all in one gulp.

he gives you a beaming grin while you stare at him with widened eyes and a single apple in your mouth. peering at your bucket, still full of apples, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. "are you gonna eat those?"

zoro

the swordsman grumbles something about needing a drink, adjusting his cowboy hat before glancing at you with a smirk. "nice tail, bessie." "oh, so original." you'd retort, adjusting your tail and ears. the costumes that were chosen for you were a cow and cowboy, but he wasn't going to be caught dead wearing something so silly. "i think an actual cow could've come up with better." he mutters inaudible words, turning away as his brows furrowed. finally, the two of you get to a neighborhood consisting of only haunted houses. zoro had insisted that he didn't want to waste time on kiddy games or petting zoos, instead wanting something more entertaining- some adrenaline. he also wanted to see you get a little spooked, or rather, he wanted to be there to protect you.

none of the jumpscares pull a reaction from him, but he never failed to tense when you'd yell "boo!" right at the end of every haunted house. he'd just glare at you.

the last house has caution tape lining the entrance and appears to be in disarray, with almost no other people. "this is the worst one yet." he'd grumble, kicking away what he thought was a bloody knife prop on the ground. it isn't until you both look up and see detectives and officers that you realize that it's an actual murder scene. the knife? evidence. he doesn't wait another second before scooping you into his arms and hightailing it out of there.

later, he does in fact accidentally wander into a corn maze. it's up to you to bring him back.

nami

"nami, i'm pretty sure it's supposed to be 'trick or treat'." you muse, watching her swing a much too heavy bag over her shoulder. your own candy bag is already almost full, even though it's only your fifth house.

the sneaky navigator only smiles and tosses her hair back, adjusting your cat ears before fixing up her witch hat. a witch and her cat, how cute! "i like to call it 'treat or treat'" she replies. "either they give me something good... or i just take it anyway."

her bravado never ceased to amaze you, her confidence and wit shining through with everything she did. you can't exactly say that you're not under her alluring spell.

stepping up to the next house, you follow her instructions and make yourselves look even more tempting to the poor soul that is about to be swindled out of their cash and candy.

by the end of the night, nami is counting up all the berries between the two of you. your head rests on her lap and you eat candy while your eyes take in the dark night sky and the multitide of stars.

"not bad!" she concludes, her eyes sparkling with joy as she looks between you and the cash. "i'm gonna need you to join me more often!"

her words have you smiling. time with the navigator was always a pleasure. "no problem. i think i like 'treat or treat' way better."

usopp

"did i ever tell you about the time i carved an award winning pumpkin?" the sniper proudly boasts (lies). the two of you were sat on some hay bales, dressed in pretty convincing scarecrow costumes and carving some pumpkins you had picked earlier.

to make it all the more immersive, you were sat right by a corn field. perfect for some scary scarecrows!

you adjust your grip on your carving tool, feigning amazement. your eyes flicker to him and you sound impressed, egging him on. "yeah? what was the carving of? it had to be something super cool, right?"

he laughs awkwardly for a second, trying to buy some time as he shifted from his spot next to you. a hand comes to his collar and he tugs on it. "w-well you see... it was, um..." his eyes sweep the surrounding field and festival, trying to come up with something. he brightens up when he spots haunted houses in the distance.

"i-it was a haunted house!" he says, his confidence returning as he held his carving tool to the sky. "no, a haunted mansion!"

a smile curls at your lips and you let out a laugh as you finish up your carving. "did you get a trophy? a metal?"

he nods, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "i did, but i donated it to charity-"

a child screams, using one hand to point at the two of you while the other tightly gripped their mother's hand. "mommy, there are haunted scarecrows!"

usopp also screams, head whipping back to find the so called monster scarecrows- completely oblivious to the fact that you were the scarecrows. "where?!"

you just laugh. "i dunno about haunted scarecrows, but i definitely see a clown..."

sanji

the cook's hands were delicately grabbing onto your waist, holding you steady as you stood on a small stool and reached up for some apples. the fruits looked divine, the orchards having more than enough to go around.

the red of the apples contrasted with the white fabric of your costume- an angel. you'd pulled the costumes of angel and devil, with sanji insisting that you take the former.

everything was ripe and ready to be picked. sanji guided you with a genuine smile, his expert gaze able to discern which apples were best. "the one on the left, mon ange." he says, cigarette smoke floating from his mouth and up to the devil horns on his head. "it's more full."

nodding, you get on your tip toes and reach up to grab the apple. "got it." you affirm, giving him a smile as you place the apple into his palm.

he places it in the basket and extends an arm for you to grab onto as you made your way off the small stool. his heart swells when you keep your arm linked in his, even as the two of you head back to the ship. keeping a firm grip on the basket full of apples, he glances at you.

"so, mon ange, what do you want me to make you first?" he asks. "apple cider? apple pie? anything."

you return his gaze and offer a content smile, humming as you thought about all the possibilities. he was much too kind, and you can't help but think that he should've been the angel...

[darylssunshine]

Ride a Cowboy

genre: almost smut but like technically not

non-apocalypse au

can be imagined as any era!

word count: 1.4k

summary: Daryl has fun with you on a bar date.

Glasses clinking and joyous conversation filled the air of the club while you eyed Daryl down his fourth shot of vodka, barely grimacing as it went down his throat.

“How can you do that? I've only had two shots and my mouth tastes literally disgusting right now.” You chuckled at the tolerance of your boyfriend, sipping your sweet tea to get the taste out of your mouth.

“Years of practice, sweetheart.” He retorted, leaning his elbows on the bar in front of him and flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes.

Daryl had been wanting to take you on a date for a while, and it was his choice for the location this time. So, of course, you and him had ended up at a southern style club a couple miles into town. It was very old-fashioned, with all wooden furniture and brick walls, adorned with framed photos of the owners, along with iconic landmarks of the surrounding area. The lights, however, were colorful and energetic, flashing along with the beat of the music at times. The bar area took up half of the building, while the other half housed a mechanical bull that was currently inactive.

With your attire being black skinny jeans, a band tank, and a black cowboy hat you stole from Daryl, the regulars could tell that this wasn't your scene. Juxtaposed with Daryl's rugged dark red flannel that fit his biceps just right thrown over a v-neck and blue jeans, you two were a sight to see.

You were broken out of your thoughts by a man over by the bull with a microphone, his voice loud enough to be heard over Low blaring over the speakers. You snapped your head over to his direction, your boyfriend's head moving slightly slower than yours.

“Alright, y'all! Bessie over here is finally up ‘n runnin’ and ready for a ridin'! Any of you folks wanna give ‘er a ride? Show ‘er a good time?” The man in the beige cowboy hat gave a wink and a few women sitting at surrounding tables shouted and whistled.

“Oh my God, Dar, can we? Please??” You gasped, eyes gradually lighting up as you shook his bicep, signaling your excitement.

He chuckled in response. “(Y/N). Really? Ya wanna ride the bull?”

“Yeah it'll be fun!!”

A raised eyebrow was all you got in response.

“If you do it with me, I'll pay for your tab.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled lightly. He then suddenly downed his fifth shot and placed it down on the bar harshly. “Aight. Fuck it. Le’s go.”

You immediately beamed and jumped off your barstool and basically pulled Daryl off of his, stumbling slightly from inebriation and the sudden incoordination. Daryl could only kind of keep up with the pace of your speed walking.

“Us! Us! We will!” You shouted, dodging a few groups of casually dancing club goers.

“Oh, we've got some volunteers!” A few patrons that were paying attention whooped and applauded your bravery. “Step right up!” He announced, motioning to an opening in the inflatable, cushiony material that surrounded the bull to avoid injury. “You better hold on, little lady.” the announcer said quietly to you, followed by a wink. You smiled and rolled your eyes while walking across the inflatable floor to the bull.

The bull was slightly elevated, so you were having trouble mounting it, and Daryl could tell. He let you try and struggle for a few moments before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bull, the sudden gesture causing you to giggle and grip one of the bulls ears for balance. You felt the bull jostle and then settle, signaling that Daryl had hopped on behind you. You blushed at the feeling of his hands holding your hips.

“Y’all ready?!” The announcer shouted, talking to you and Daryl, but also everyone else in the bar, including the small crowd that surrounded the bull. You grinned and gave a thumbs up in the announcer's direction. “Alright! Hold on, you two!”

The bull then whirred to life and rose a couple inches higher than it already was. You kept both hands secured to it’s ears in front of you, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Daryl had agreed to go on with you.

Then, it began to move.

Startled, you gasped and moved your hands to the handle in front of you for more balance. You slowly got used to the up and down diagonal movement, even taking one of your hands off the handle to raise it above your head, only to return it a couple seconds on a particularly deep downward slope. Meanwhile, Daryl was calm, barely reacting to the movement at all, instead choosing to keep his hands firmly planted on your waist to ensure your security. He softly chuckled in your ear at your inexperience.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure ya don’t fall off.”

You felt your blush grow impossibly bigger. What does that mean?

He started by stealing back his hat, placing it on his head and returning his hand to your shoulder and squeezing it. His hand then snaked to your throat, engulfing it with his large fingers and making your head lean back. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Dar we’re… we’re in public.”

He bit your ear lobe in retaliation. “Ya think I care?” Your airflow was then slightly restricted, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Yeah. Ya like it, ya dirty little slut.”

He then took a hold of your hair and pulled, continuing to leave your neck exposed, and cockily put the other hand in the air. Your eyes had closed and your hands had migrated to his knees.

The patrons surrounding the bull cheered and whooped at Daryl’s action, a few women squealing.

“Everyone's gonna know who ya belong to.”

Your head was then tugged to the side and his lips were hungrily latched to your neck, sucking hard and adding a good amount of teeth so that when he pulled away, there was a decent sized purple mark left in its wake, growing deeper by the minute. You let a small moan escape your lips and Daryl huffed.

He then had an idea.

The brunette let you and the crowd calm down a bit, riding the bucking bronco how it was intended. He waited until the bull moved diagonally downward, then he strategically flung himself to the front of the bull and moved his legs on top of yours, earning another cheer from the crowd. You, on the other hand, were absolutely stunned, staring at him with your mouth agape. Your heart was going a million miles a minute, and he could tell. He loved it.

“Wha’d I say, darlin’? Years of practice.”

The sporadic thrusts of the bull now had a new intensity to them, Daryl’s bulge clearly being felt through your thin jeans. You steadied yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders and looking at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. Daryl smirked, leaned down to your ear, and grumbled, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Thought ya was worried ‘bout bein’ in public.” He bit your cartilage for extra measure and continued to smirk down at you, proud of the needy little fuck doll his actions have created.

Daryl’s lustful gaze along with the thrusts of the bull and the cheers of the bull were all too much to handle, so you shamelessly latched your lips with his with intensity, something that he gladly returned. Both of you barely even registered the roar of the crowd while your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands firmly held your torso.

Right after Daryl had drunkenly and fervently introduced tongue into the mix and was already winning the battle of dominance, an especially quick jolt of the bull had you falling off the side. You tried to stabilize yourself by gripping Daryl’s shoulders again, but that just caused him to fall as well, ironically, right on top of you.

You both gazed at each other longingly for a few moments before finally registering your surroundings. He stood up first and held out a hand to help you stand as well. The crowd was wild, some of them waving their cowboy hats in the air in excitement. Daryl snicked. He wrapped a heavy arm around your shoulders and used his other hand to take his hat off and return it to your head. Almost like he was showing off a shiny gold trophy that he had just won for his performance.

The announcer beamed. “Holy shit! We haven’t seen that level of ridin’ in a while, literally.”

Daryl looked over at you and winked.

You and him will definitely be returning soon.

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

I also do not feel I am asking for too much when I want a Bessie Coleman movie with Lupita Nyong'o or Janelle Monae or Florence Kasumba as Bessie. I really think this is reasonable. Tyler Perry and Ava Duvernay please interact. I will also like to request Janelle as Josephine Baker.

Where's my Jose Rizal biopic with Manny Jacinto as Jose.

[l3irdl3rain]

Oh gosh, are Petunia's eyes okay?? I don't remember the area around them being so red before?

The irritation comes and goes because for obvious reasons she doesn't get her eye boogers cleaned out daily. And putting in ointment / drops daily isn't super realistic. I tried to start doing that daily over the summer and she was convinced I was trying to kill her so I gave up. Unfortunately with her I have to find a way to balance "this is necessary for your health" and "I don't want to totally ruin our progress"

Also, when Petunia last went in to the clinic Doc mentioned he thought she might have an entropion that was worsening with age. She was meant to go in sometime this month to get sedated and let him get a good look at her eyes / potentially do surgery. But with the clinic's busy surgery schedule and Bessie's more dire surgeries she's been pushed back a couple times.

[cloveroctobers]

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

A/N: this was honestly inspired by typical family functions + a vid I saw on Instagram (possibly belonging to Tiktok) where we all have that universal experience where we spend the night at grandma’s lol.

SYNOPSIS: your grandmother’s always been in your business, you had a good job? Great! That job got on your nerves? Just be thankful that you have a job when there’s plenty that can’t even find one. You finally moved out of your parent’s house? Good for you, it’s about damn time. Now when you upgraded even more, hearing that you have finally got yourself a boyfriend after being single for only the lord knows how long…she opens up her home for you and Armando to crash instead of spending money (you both had it) out of the kindness of her heart—mostly.

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”

“Oh, It’s flourishin’, baby.” She grins as you slip an arm across her shoulders and sent an apologetic look at your boyfriend, “your cousin Saleema and I went out to the Lowe’s and picked up a bunch of flowers. She helped me plant half of them but I know you’ll help me do the rest.”

She had a whole lot planned it seemed, considering you two came up for a couple of days for the upcoming family reunion at her house. You honestly thought about not attending, since you didn’t feel like socializing with half of your father’s side (1. they were either in your business to make sure you weren’t doing better than them—it wasn’t a competition in the first place but apparently it was in their eyes, 2. acted like they didn’t know you and expected you to roll out the red carpet for them—meaning if you didn’t speak to them first then that automatically became a problem, or 3. simply weren’t wrapped too tight in the head) but pushed through it since your granny got sensitive about not seeing her grand babies as often now that you were all adults.

Armando chuckled to himself at that, you knew your granny would bring this up since your cousin wouldn’t stop boasting about their outing in the: first cousins group chat. Saleema was older, just touched forty and was single living in her condo with her funny looking cat. She was always your granny’s favorite—perhaps it had to do with her being the first grandchild since your aunt had her young—although Saleema was a true hell raiser throughout her teenage and college years apparently, she hardly got shit on out of the grandchildren and it showed.

“Sure thing…anything you want me to help with on the inside first? You know I’m not built for this type of heat.” You whistled, fanning at the back of your neck after swiping some of the braids to your boho Bob to the side.

Granny Bessie scoffs, “stop that lyin’ baby, you chose to live out there with them gators and those strange Florida folks so you have to be built for some of it.”

Armando laughs as he follows you two into the living room, spotting old photos of: Granny Bessie during her bowling tournaments with her voluminous hair, various of family members, and childhood photos of yourself and many more cousins from previous family reunions.

“Oh you should see her Granny.” Armando speaks up after putting a picture back above the piano, “I think she got bougie on you, she even walks outside with umbrellas.”

Not this man snitching on you?

Granny side eyes you, hand still latched on your waist, “…you not one of them demonic people now are you?”

Now it was your turn to send a dark stare to Armando, who bit down on his bottom lip trying to hide his laughter. He knew what he had started, knowing that your grandmother was religious and always had something to say about other aesthetics? The goths and the emos received no love from Granny Bessie.

“No, grandma!”

You only ever called her by that to show that you were serious.

“Good,” she states with a pat to your hip before adding, “you haven’t contracted high blood pressure yet have you? I just knew it would hit you like it hit your father and me.”

Shaking your head you reply, “Nope, still dealing with low blood pressure actually.”

“That’s why I told you to up your vitamins and eat better foods. Good thing you’re here with me for a few days, I’ll send you on your way brand new,” she dusts her hands off with a clap, “your doctor will be thanking me.”

“As he should, granny Bessie knows all!” You rested your head against the shorter woman.

“Damn straight, now y’all come on in here and get you something to eat.” The elderly woman with the Mother Nature braids waves you two along.

Armando starts to squeeze his way by at the news of eating, hands rubbing together in excitement as his stomach rumbled before he steps to the side to continue letting you two go ahead.

“…ah a gentleman! I think I like him so far.” Granny Bessie whispers up at you, carrying into the kitchen.

It was 7pm by the time Granny Bessie was packing it up and getting ready for bed. She made the arrangements, sticking Armando in the back room while it left herself and you on opposite sides of the home. She of course let the home be open to you two but you knew not to stay up too late since the woman liked to be up early and active. Granny Bessie was in her seventies and still moved quickly even when her Arthritis was acting up. Everyone told her to slow down but granny Bessie has proven that she was always going to what she damn well wanted to.

Which definitely stood when she sent her last warning to you two of where you two would be sleeping for the night.

The both of you stood at the entry way of the ranch home, lips attached and battling each others as Armando swung you towards the wall, hand going to your waist then down the side of your ass to hook your leg over his hip.

“You said Granny Bessie was a snorer didn’t you?” Armando breathed against your neck.

You nod as you lick your lips, “yeah but she’s still a light sleeper and I’m not in the mood to get cussed out when we get caught.”

“When?” Armando quirked up his brows to look up at you, “All you have to do is keep quiet, mami.”

“And you think you’re going to help me do that?” You question while Armando thinks about it, “Yeah no.”

You pecked his lips while running your fingers over his facial hair, “just call me on FaceTime if the night gets too bad.”

For as long as you’ve been dating Armando, you weren’t completely oblivious. You knew that he didn’t adapt well to new spaces and it only got worse at night. The nightmares kept him up and anxiety was a bitch, he was trying to get through it on his own and even tried to hide it from you plenty of times before he moved in but there wouldn’t be any secrets in your relationship.

And you wouldn’t disrespect your granny’s home—never did and never will.

“Alright,” Armando sighed as he kissed your forehead, “better keep your phone charged, we both know how you are.”

You scowl as he pushes the creaking door back that led down the narrow hallway, “that was only a few times and I had valid reasons.”

“Uh huh,” Armando holds his hand out back for you to interlock your fingers before stopping in the middle of the hallway, “…goodnight baby.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the dolls bite.”

Armando halts at kissing the back of your hand as he steps towards you, head dipped as he quizzes with a soft whisper, “…what fucken dolls?”

You’re trying to silence your cackling at the deadpan angle of Armando’s face on your phone screen as you settle into bed. There’s no cable in this room so you’re stuck leaving the tv on some court show that’ll help you fall asleep. It only took maybe a minute or two for Armando to start calling you, you on your side and arms tucked underneath the comfy blankets that made you feel like you were back in your childhood.

Granny Bessie had all sorts of trinkets decorating the dresser drawer by the side of the door and you had to remind yourself that if you needed to get up during the night to not stub your toe.

“It’s not that bad is it?” You ask while Armando just simply blinks at you, which said enough.

Eventually you’re the one that falls asleep on Armando although you promise that you wouldn’t. He knew that was a lost cause after you decided to shut the tv off, welcoming the pitch black and snuggle deeper into the sheets without him. You were closer to the opposite end of the hallway with your granny right across the hall but her bed sat deep in her own room yet that didn’t stop you from hearing her lawn mowing snores. You even popped an earphone in one ear to drawn out the noise and just enjoyed the company of your man on charge.

He ends up falling asleep after you but it takes him much longer, browsing social media, checking up on his side business, ignoring a text from Marcus, and simply sending a thumbs up to Mike’s text that he was finally boarding. Armando managed to keep himself busy, fighting the urge to snatch up all the weird looking dolls, rip their heads off and shove them in the closet.

He guessed this was a thing with Grandma’s having obsessions with odd items?

He makes sure his own phone in on charge, bringing it back to the FaceTime call of your closed eyes before completely covering his head underneath the covers then dozed off himself.

That doesn’t last long being woken up out of his sleep. There’s a loud booming noise in the distance and he’s tempted to find his piece just to make sure no one was breaking in. Granny Bessie had an alarm system and that didn’t seem to be going off but that didn’t stop Armando from sitting up in bed. He looks at the dolls and it suddenly feels as if their soulless eyes are still watching him.

He tossed the covers back, feet on the carpet, eyes finding a random blue light that he couldn’t find the source of as he passed by the edge of the bed. This room was suffocating and he feels like he’s been sweating underneath the sheets. The house was cool before the both of you went to bed and now it felt like being inside of a sauna.

Armando pulls the door back, peeking out into the abyss of a hallway and he just hopes there’s no one else in the house but you three. Leaving the door open a crack he moves back into the bedroom to grab his phone to use the flashlight since he can’t remember where exactly the hallway light is.

The floor creaks underneath his feet as he moves from the back of the house. As he gets to the middle of the hallway, he picks up on Granny Bessie’s snoring and stops at your room. His fingers rack against the door and he gets no response so he moves forth with twisting the door knob. Your back is to the door now, phone abandoned on the floor but still charging.

He picks it up for you and steps back out.

Armando lets you sleep, heading towards the front of the house. He’s in the entry way and the home feels much bigger in the dark, more eerie but knows he’ll find comfort in the dining room or kitchen—where the snacks are.

It’s 3 in the morning when you get the violent urge to use the bathroom. You try to fight it but the pressure in your belly isn’t pleasant so you throw the covers back in annoyance. It was your own fault chugging that ice cold water before you started making out with Armando but you didn’t need to acknowledge that. Shoving your fuzzy socks on, you pull the door open and head out into the dark hallway. Eyes half lidded as you use the wall for guidance to the bathroom, your head turns to the left to see the hallway door is left open just a crack but you carry into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door after doing your business, you feel a pull to head out into the main areas of the home. You see a light from the right of the dining room and walk through the sitting room towards it. Turning to the right you spot Armando immediately, snacking as you plop down beside him in another chair.

Balling your arms up on the table, you rest your head against them as you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

“You didn’t hear that big ass noise?” He says around the dried fruit he’s chewing on, “Sounded like a whole bomb.”

You hum, “yeah we’re near the military base…I thought I mentioned that.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“My grandad was a vet. They moved here in the early 2000’s, it’s a whole community.” You yawn.

Armando shakes his head, “that sounds like nothing but triggers. I don’t know if that’s worst or the creepy ass dolls following me with their laser blue beams as I snuck out of the room.”

Frowning you sigh, “did you take an edible before bed?”

Armando feels his eye twitch, “no I didn’t take a fucken edible—I’m for real. Is this supposed to be normal? The dolls? The random lights? The bombs? The clicking and buzzing?”

You shrug, “…I didn’t hear any of that…or maybe I just learned to tune it out.”

“I see you didn’t get the light sleeping from your granny then.” Armando mumbles while you snort, moving one arm to latch onto his wrist.

Slowly lifting your head you say, “…well we can’t stay out here for the rest of the morning. Granny gets up at six and probably will let us rest until eight if we’re lucky so…”

Waking up early had no effect on Armando since he barely slept anyways. He already scoped out the area once the two of you got closer to Granny’s home from the airport for a good workout.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Working out with Armando in the gym was a death sentence and you’ll be damned if you do it out in this heat too? You rather go to hell in a pretty hand basket and Armando was willing to take you there honestly.

No pain, no gain.

*Cue the eye roll*

“That’s cool,” Armando shrugged, “but I’m not goin’ back in that room.”

Sitting back against the chair you huff, “fine you big baby…set the timer to 5:45 so you can go back to your room. Don’t think she won’t check once she’s up for the day.”

Armando scowls as you scrape back from the kitchen table, reaching over to slap your backside, “I’ll show you a baby if you keep getting smart.”

Rubbing the sting on your back side, you fan your hand back at him, which he snatched to hold while setting a timer as you both make your way to the hallway. Too tired to give him any lip, you were just ready to get back into bed and cuddling with your man didn’t hurt.

Your back is to Armando, he tucks himself right into you, feet intertwined, his hairy legs prickling your shaven ones, chin buried into the space of your neck and shoulder while cradling your stomach.

“…how long were your grandparents together?”

You heard him but take a minute to respond as you fight sleep, “They’ve been married since the early 60s…all the way up until pa’s passing in 2019.”

Armando breathes you in, “how’d they do it for so long?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Granny but they were everything good you can imagine—nothings perfect but they felt like it you know?”

“…Think he was used to all the noises here?”

You snort, “he’s always been a night owl so if any of us couldn’t sleep, he was always up in the living room in his chair, eating that a disgusting banana ice cream just waiting for any of us to talk. If we had a nightmare, he’d do anything to make us laugh until we forgot it.”

“Sounds like a special man.”

“He was.”

“…I want that you know? With you. The kids and the gran’s. The creaks and the strange, a loving home. A place where anybody can stay and feel like life’s worth revisiting, like it was nothing but a breeze once you see who you’re surrounded by. A less lonely life.”

You shuffle to face him now, resting your head underneath his chin, not finding this conversation to be new. Most nights when Armando couldn’t sleep, he would ramble about what a future could look like with you.

It warmed your heart just as much as how warm your granny kept the back of the house.

“Then let’s do it.” You mumble into the night as Armando squeezes you, placing a kiss right on top of your bonnet.

That sealed the deal.

“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Granny Bessie asks with a mug of coffee as Armando makes his presence known.

Armando glances at you who sips at your own mug with a hidden small smile, “Good. Thanks, Granny Bessie. I’m actually about to head out for my daily run…would you like to join us?”

That gets you to cast a glance at the man over your shoulder who softly squeezes your shoulders with a grin, “us?” You whisper.

Granny Bessie laughs, “oh no. I need to tend to some things around the house but make sure you eat something because the heat will rise by the time you’re out there. Also did you speak to your daddy about what time we should be expecting him?”

“He probably should have landed by now.” Armando shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling that he felt when Granny Bessie labeled the man as such.

You say, “He texted me about twenty minutes ago. He was heading to baggage claim, maybe in the next hour he should be here.”

“Alright, well you two best be going and stay away from the houses from the next two streets over…nothing but confederates on that side.”

The woman wags her finger in warning.

Armando nods, “Thanks Granny,” he pops a red grape into his mouth, “these are delicious.”

“Take as much as you want, darling.” The woman squeezes his elbow on her way by, “Now I’m going to go get fully ready for Mr. Lowrey.”

Frowning you ask, “now what do you mean by that granny?”

“Just that I need to be presentable in my own home.”

“Uh huh. I know you’ve been on Facebook and know what Mike looks like.”

“I am a woman of God, do not sass me.”

Armando snickers while you raise your hands in surrender, finishing off your morning juice.

“I see you Granny Bessie.” Armando teases while the woman fans her hands at him.

“Hush! Don’t make my bad list, Herman.”

You gently reminded, “It’s Armando, granny.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay! love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She grins.

As you’re locking up the screen door, you and Armando walk around the path to the driveway to exit the home. He silently stops you, encouraging you to stretch while you send him an unimpressed look.

Armando was lucky you didn’t go into hiding around the house and shouldn’t be so bossy but you knew better.

“When did Granny see a pic of Mike?”

You switch to bending to the other toe, “when she wanted to see a picture of you. Then she proceeded to rate you, Dorn, Rafe, and of course…”

Armando laughs as he finishes, “Mike. your granny is a trip.”

“Tell me about it.” You try to prolong this morning exercise but he picks up pretty quick and isn’t having it.

He stops jogging in place, hand going out to slap your ass before pulling you along by the hand.

You’re wheezing, ready to throw a whole tantrum, legs stinging, wrists limp as you drag yourself up Granny’s driveway. There’s a Porsche parked to the right in the driveway by the rental you picked up from the airport. Mike’s already out of the car, at the trunk as he’s pulling out his luggage.

“Hey y’all! uh oh, Armando what did you do to my girl?” The smile vanishes from Mike’s face as his son glances back at you.

If the ground wasn’t so damn hot, if the air, if everything wasn’t on temperature hell you would have face planted right on the gravel.

Armando also looks back at you, hands on your knees as you give a wave to Mike, whose brows are deeply furrowed before he raises them to the twenty-eight year old closest to him.

“She’s aight.” He shrugs, “we needed to get our cardio in and she’s the one who wanted to tone that hot girl body up—her words not mine but I don’t disagree.” Armando looks at you again, biting down on his bottom lip, “she’s lucky I didn’t strap any weights to her ankles.”

Raising your hands above your head, you actually feel yourself sway doing that movement over touching your knees and Mike actually takes a step toward you but Armando presses the back of his knuckles against his bio dad’s chest. Mike takes his eyes off you for a second and sizes Armando’s hand as he’s now analyzing you closely himself.

“I don’t know how many serious girlfriends you done had in your life man but I’m telling you right now, if that girl ends up in the hospital with heat stroke because of you pushing her too hard, that’s your ass.” Mike warns Armando, who glares up at him.

He didn’t need Mike to tell him about you.

He was the one who took the time to get to know you mind body and soul.

Mike’s missed out on twenty-something years and didn’t get to give Armando any advice.

And that’s on Kanye!

Armando does move over to you the moment you feel your stomach clench, ready to upchuck any light breakfast you had. He doesn’t waste time picking you up and over his shoulder, you resting limply against him before he’s walking by Mike.

He pauses, “your room is the last room at the back of the house, padre.”

And with that Armando continues towards the house, ready to cater to you because what Mike Lowrey didn’t know was that Armando would die for you.

Mike is mumbling to himself, trying to control his temper since it felt like he was building a connection with Armando one minute and then in the next he was pulling ten steps back. The kid didn’t even offer to come back and help him bring his things in—not that Mike needed it but it was a decent thing to do.

Respect was earned and the duo had a long way to go.

So Mike lets it go, slamming the trunk shut before meeting a very excited Granny Bessie at the front door.

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