#one year later not much has changed... I still unfortunately don't have a job but I am starting a new analytics training program

[highlineeheartbeat]

this is a bit dark so it's going in the tags...

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Prologue

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 13k

Chapter Warnings: angst, miscommunication, ghosting? maybe, some cursing, mentions of OC having nephews (gross), being broken up with over a text, allusions to anxiety, my oc being argumentative and avoidant (she's me), and nico also being avoidant and a poor communicator (he's a man) (he's also a capricorn) (sorry capricorns)

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

Series Masterlist

A/N: is a 13k prologue excessive? probably. is the mixture of tenses in this part going to grind your gears? most definitely. am I going to do anything about it? no.

I've never actually published any writing before so go easy on the girl. if I need to tag any warnings just let me know. if you like the fic let me know. if you don't like the fic I beg you I'm having a bad month spare meeeeee.

TW for british english spellings because shock horror I am unfortunately british, get used to u's and s's where you least expect them, I will change my spell check settings for no one!! nico's facebook aunt shenanigans have lit a fire within me today and I was writing a later chapter for this fic and thinking if I don't actually put this out into the world I never will so here we are hi my name is maggie I hope you enjoy

Poppy

New Years has always been Poppy Jensen’s favourite holiday. The dwindling aftermath of Christmas - lights and decorations still hung throughout the city, everyone decked in the hats, scarves and ugly sweaters gifted by distant relatives over the Christmas period, and the six days of limbo usually spent drinking and eating copious amounts of leftovers before the new year, new me resolutions kick in - and experiencing it all in her hometown surrounded by the people she loves the most, there is no other time like it.

This year, she feels like the festive period has been one, long, strung-out horror show. 

Self-inflicted, of course, like all the other tragedies of her life, she does know she only has herself to blame for how pathetic it has turned out.

She had prepared herself for Christmas to be a dud. The one time of the year that she and her family put aside their differences, and this year she had opted out - or, so her mother had dramatically concluded; she actually just had work commitments. But, this would be her first spent alone due to the fact her parents had decided to go and visit her older brother, Oliver, and his family in San Francisco.

They didn’t have to fly across the country - Oliver has more than enough money to book his clan on a flight back to his home state, but obviously as the golden child, the Jensen’s must bend to his every whim. Of course, Poppy had been invited. Her relationship with her brother wasn’t mutually acrimonious, but the aforementioned work commitments got her out of that bore-fest. 

She does love her brother. Sometimes. Christmas, especially - he’s a great and expensive gift-giver. And she loves his wife, Kimberley, and their two sons - her nephews, James and Lucas - but spending the holidays with them would have been a lot. Her family is hard work on the best of days, and the only reason Christmas is ever bearable is because her mother hires help, and it’s impossible for the stress train to leave the station if Priscilla Jensen is given enough wine early enough in the day to dull her usual wicked demeanour. 

Kimberley, God bless her soul, maintains a sober house, and Poppy, as much as she respects this, would not go anywhere near that train wreck if you paid her a million dollars.

There’s also the fact that the holidays were invented to unwind, and Poppy somehow always gets lumped on nephew duty. She had long grown out of her boys are gross phase, but lord, do those two try everything in their power to bring it back. She has lost count of the amount of their bodily fluids she has had wiped all over her best clothes over the years. If she had agreed to fly out, she no doubt would have ended up being the one to watch the kids while everyone else had their version of a good time, and so she’d successfully managed to avoid all that with a half-assed promise of visiting at Easter, instead.

Her brother hadn’t been too upset - one less place setting at the table for him to worry about - but her mother had been livid, and there was no chance Poppy would live it down without owing her.

God forbid she, as an adult, actually got to choose how to spend her time.

She hadn’t actually been completely alone on Christmas, not all day, at least. Her best friend Nia had invited her to eat with her and her dad, but they were hardly putting her in the festive spirit with their constant snipes at each other, and so she’d given herself stomach ache stuffing herself full of corn bread and roasted carrots and dipped out to make it home for the Giants game - because there’s no better tradition than watching your team lose on Christmas Day. At least she wasn’t there to watch her dad and brother yell at the TV and get all grumpy for hours after the fact. 

She’d watched Love Actually with mulled wine in hand and fallen asleep on the couch - waking up in the middle of the night to the muffled sound of her neighbours screaming at each other through the walls. 

Poppy had the 26th off, and spent the day preparing her apartment for New Years, knowing she wouldn’t have any other opportunity to get her big clean done. She’d cleared out half her wardrobe - done several loads of laundry so that she could donate clean clothes to the women’s shelter a few blocks over - rid her kitchen of all the outdated tinned foods in the backs of her cupboards, dusted every surface, vacuumed every floor, colour-coded her bookshelf to look more aesthetically pleasing and then within an hour put it back in alphabetical order - all in a day’s work. 

By the time the 27th rolled around, and she had to return to work, she had tired herself out completely. She had been drained, and the worst part of it all, she didn’t even actually need to be there.

Sure, December was a crazy time to work in the NHL, their schedule unrelenting when the season got into full-swing, and the holiday events that Poppy’s team had to organise seemed never ending, but she had technically been given limbo-week off. Not that her mother had to know.

The Youth Foundation team had all wrapped up work for the year on the 23rd, and if Poppy was a truly good daughter/sibling/aunt, she would have booked herself on a red-eye after the home win that evening, but the second the opportunity to accept an actual real excuse not to change her plans arose, she took it with open arms. Her guilt of lying to her family diminished, along with her will to live at the fact she had - self-inflicted, as always - put herself down to work her favourite time of the year.

Her career with the New Jersey Devils had started with an internship in her final year of college. She had worked with the digital content department for her first year, quickly being sniped by the Foundation in the middle of her second year and working her way past content creation to helping co-ordinate and run some of the community events.

When her friend Jessica had approached Poppy and begged for her to cover her spot in the department they had started out together in for limbo-week, spending it with the team at their games, she had jumped at the bit. She knew no one else would agree to work last minute after having their time off approved, and was pleased to relay to her mom that she had to prove herself as a team player if she wanted more responsibility at work. It was all in the name of bumping up her performance and getting her name out there, and definitely not avoiding her family and that whole shit-show.

Poppy loves her job, and is more than happy with her career, but she could sing about it until the cows come home and her parents could not care less. They rarely ever acknowledged her successes because her life didn’t fit the mould they had set out for her - another reason she hadn’t wanted to spend this Christmas hounded with questions of why don’t you come work for your dad? Or why didn’t you accept the interview Ollie so kindly got for you? She doesn’t want a non-sensical, nothing job made up to keep her under her family’s influence. She has forged her own path, one that many dream of in one of the biggest industries in the country, and no matter how much she disappointed her parents in comparison to her lackey brother, she is content with where she is.

She had completely forgotten, however, that the devils played away on the 29th and 30th, and if she was going to be tagging along with the bare-bones limbo week media crew, there was no way in hell she was getting out of joining the team’s New Years celebrations. 

She had done her fair share of dodging team events already this year, and despite the fact she could appease most of her friends within the organisation, there was one person who would not let her off so easy.

This year is Jack Hughes’ first year hosting the big Devils New Years party - he’d, in her opinion, stupidly volunteered pretty much last minute after the venue the team had booked flooded in November and cancelled their reservation - and he would not let Poppy get out of coming, even if that meant scuppering her own annual tradition of getting shit-faced with her girls in their perfectly planned New Jersey bar crawl.

She’d done her best work to convince him - had almost sold him on the dream - she and her best friend, Nia, always start at the bar below Nia’s apartment in Hoboken, and then dot to the bars closest to their other friends apartments until they end up by Poppy’s, which has the perfect little rooftop set up where they get to watch all the fireworks across the Hudson. It’s how she’s spent the holiday every year since she and all her girls turned 21, and it was her favourite day, her favourite way to ring in a new year with her best friends in her favourite place in the world. 

Jack’s argument was that he also had a great view across the Hudson from his Jersey City apartment, and that she was less likely to catch hypothermia this year because his view came through floor to ceiling windows and the luxury of central heating.

She’d tried to argue that she had all intentions of meeting her future husband on her adventures through New Jersey, and he gave the quick rebuttal that he had plenty of single friends she was yet to meet. 

There was no excuse she could give that he couldn’t counteract, and so she’d eventually given up with the resolution that when he is 3 drinks deep, Jack Hughes can barely remember his own name, let alone keep tabs on where Poppy is, or if she ever showed up in the first place. She can always just say she’s running late until he stops asking.

And then she’d somehow gotten roped into helping him set up. 

Jack had cornered her on their flight home from Boston, where they had just lost to the Bruins and, all of a sudden, no one was in any kind of mood to party.

“I swear,” he had said, throwing himself down into the vacant seat beside her as she attempted to clear her inbox on the short journey, swiping away messages and storing others to review when work started back up in the next week, “If I mess up this party, and my name goes down in Devils history tied to the biggest depression session this team have ever seen, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“How the hell would that be my fault?” She had scoffed, kicking at his feet when he had tried to man-spread next to her and they had quite abruptly knocked knees. The staff seats toward the front of the plane weren’t quite as spacious as the player seats further back.

“You brought some serious negative energy with you on this trip,” he shrugged, reaching for the bag of skittles she had stashed in the pocket on the seat in front of her and stealing a handful, “And I can’t blame you for us losing, so I’m gonna blame you for constantly trying to abandon my event and making me feel so insecure about it that it turned into a complete bore-fest because I didn’t have my literal professional event planner friend to help me set it all up.”

Jack Hughes had joined the New Jersey Devils at the same time Poppy had started her internship. There had been some corny ice breaker session for everyone new to the organisation that season, and they’d bonded over their shared love for country music. He’d become dependent on her as a local to the area for recommendations for everything - food, sports bars, coffee, grocery shopping, running routes - and they’d quickly developed a friendship that had lasted them thus far. No fallouts, no drama, no issues. Being friends with Jack is easy. 

Poppy is older by near enough 18 months, and considers him as close to a little brother as she will ever find - annoying, teasing, loud and somewhat of a know-it-all, but he cares deeply, and he’s loyal, honest and open with her, and she loves him for it.

“I’ve done my part even helping you plan the thing,” she had to snatch the bag back from him before he finished the skittles off, needing the sugar to keep her awake for the quick drive home when they landed. Jack had been on her back about this party since he had first put his name in the hat to host, and she had been gracious, helping him arrange food, drinks, decorations and DJ equipment in the hopes it would lessen the blow that she didn’t want to attend. “I didn’t bring negative energy.”

“Do I have to kidnap you when we deplane or are you gonna come around tomorrow morning and help me?”

“Kidnap me?” she couldn’t help but laugh, casting a quick measured glance over his figure. “Real cute, Jack, you’re nothing without your stick.”

“I could take you.” He attempted to throw a skittle up into the air and catch it in his mouth, not accounting for the fact they were on a moving, somewhat turbulent plane, and he barely had enough finesse to pull that off on the ground. The candy landed and bounced off his cheekbone, and he watched it fall to the floor with a child-like pout. 

“It’s fighting talk like that that would lose you another tooth, Hughesy,” she had threatened in jest. 

“I’m a middle child, I don’t start fights I can’t finish, Popcorn.” He also has a track record of giving Poppy the worst nicknames she has ever heard in her entire 24 years on this Earth. “Luke’s already said he’ll help me on the kidnapping front, we have a plan.”

“Your plan is nothing without incentive, Jack. You come at me with weak threats when you could just offer me something in return.”

“Like what?” His eyes narrowed toward her, shuffling in the seat until he was facing her fully. 

“I want to bring Nia.” If she was going to be subjected to this, she was bringing back up - and she had thought this would be a good trade, knowing how protective the boys were of their private events, especially those thrown in their own homes.

Poppy hadn’t liked the way his lips curved up immediately, like she had fallen straight into his trap. “Done.” She should have known better. He stood up, edging back into the aisle and sending her a wink. “I’ll text you details on when and where I need you. Your hot friend is more than welcome to offer a hand, too.”

And that is how Poppy has ended up spending the day of New Years Eve, her favourite day of the year, rushing to set up Jack Hughes’ apartment. 

Her first task had been to go round to Jack’s and accept the deliveries that came while he and Luke were out picking up the decks for the DJ. Drinks arrived by the crateful, the boxes of paper plates, cups and other table wears took her several trips up and down from Jack’s apartment to the building lobby until she broke out in a sweat, and she had done her best to hang all the decorations, her last call being to pick up the bigger decoration delivery from downstairs.  

Poppy, with the help of Lionel, the building’s concierge, loads the elevator full of decor, ranging from golden helium balloons that spell out ‘Happy New Year’ and ‘2024’, a large roll that should hopefully unravel to reveal a backdrop for a makeshift photo-booth, as well as a deconstructed balloon arch that gave her PTSD from the amount of events at the Rock she’d had to put them together.

Lionel offers to come up with her to help unload everything upstairs, but the thought of cramming another person in there with all the stuff makes her feel claustrophobic, so she politely declines - though, when the elevator doors open and she bumps face first into a firm chest, her nose smushing against a khaki t-shirt she wishes she had someone else with her to buffer the tension that stiffens her spine. 

A large, calloused hand wraps around her upper arm to steady her, and another reaches out to keep the doors of the elevator from closing in on where she stands. She looks up into eyes swirled with the colour of warm, melted chocolate, and her throat feels just the slightest bit drier than it had 5 seconds ago.

“Hey,” Nico Hischier’s voice is deep, scratchy like he’s just woken up - he probably has given how late the team got in last night - and trickles down in static currents from her ears to the base of Poppy’s back. 

She takes a short, startled step back, and gulps down the dryness in her throat before she gives a quick, “Hey,” in response. “Sorry, I’ll just take a second to unload all of this then the elevator is yours.”

“I’ll help,” Nico doesn’t phrase it as a question, as if knowing she would immediately decline. Not, let me help, or do you need help? He’ll just do it. “You get everything out and I’ll take it inside?”

She nods, despite the voice in the back of her head telling her that he’s only helping to get the job done quicker, and be able to get downstairs. She makes a conscious mental effort to drown it out while the two of them work in a silent tandem, her lifting the decorations into the hallway and him towing them down and into Jack’s apartment. 

She makes another conscious effort not to watch when he lifts things, the flex of his arms, the rippling muscles of his shoulders.

“Is that the last of it?” He asks, gesturing to the rolled up backdrop leaning on the side of the elevator and propping it open. 

“Yeah, but I got it,” Poppy gives a tight smile, lifting the roll but staying in place so the doors don’t close behind her and she doesn’t get stuck any longer in Nico’s presence on her own. “Thanks for helping.”

There used to be a time she couldn’t get enough of being around Nico, but those days are long gone.There is a permanent frigidity between them now - it’s been there since the summer just gone - and she’s overstimulated enough having spent her morning being Jack’s lackey while he no doubt slacks off with his brother grabbing brunch out. Her patience is beyond wearing thin, and so the last thing she needs is prolonged contact with the Devils captain where she will no doubt end up blowing up and making everything worse.

No one wants to ring in the new year with an almighty fallout.

She can’t help the frown that befalls her features when he makes no effort to occupy the elevator. He makes no effort to do anything, only looking at Poppy with a pensive pout. “Jack said I should come help you out.”

Of course he did, she thinks.

For the past four months, Jack Hughes has been acting like it’s his greater purpose in life to bring Nico and Poppy back together - like the demise of their friendship was the greatest personal inconvenience he has ever faced in his life. 

He has orchestrated one too many ‘accidental’ run-ins just like this one, and Poppy isn’t going to entertain his childish games any longer.

Nico doesn’t want to be her friend - she knows this for a fact - so Jack’s schemes are becoming a waste of everyone’s time.

“I’m alright, Nia’s on her way, you don’t have to hang around.”

Nia was due at Jack’s apartment two hours ago, but is no doubt still asleep after she was out last night for her pre-New Years celebrations. She’ll come over soon enough, though, and so Poppy doesn’t feel entirely deflated to turn down help she actually might currently need.

“I don’t mind waiting until she gets here.” Nico shrugs, again not giving her a natural opportunity to say no. He nods towards the apartment, gesturing for Poppy to start making her way over. “We both know she won’t take the stairs.”

Something about the way he so casually recalls information about her best friend plucks at her nerves, just a little, reflective of the part of their lives they had once shared with each other like it was nothing, but she shrugs it off, beginning to head towards the apartment with the roll tucked under her arm.

“I thought New Years was your favourite holiday?” He asks once they’re both inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him and somewhat trapping her in his presence echoing throughout the room. He doesn’t allow for any kind of prolonged silence between the two of them. If Nico Hischier is good at anything, it’s getting people to talk to him.

It’s not entirely that she doesn’t want to talk to him.

She does.

She’s wanted to talk to him every day for the past 4 months that they hadn’t talked - has been craving even mundane, casual conversation about the weather or traffic on the way into work, but now, as he yet again indifferently recollects such personal details about her as if they have remained close, she begins to feel uneasy.

“It is,” she gives a half-hearted, dismissive response. 

“Then why are you all grumpy?”

“I’m not.” She frowns, eyebrows furrowing and arms crossing as she turns to face him, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.  

She’s not trying to be difficult. Or maybe she is. She is in a particularly bad mood, but she had thought she’d done a good job at masking it. He’d been around her all of 2 minutes and saw right through her. 

“Jack said you’ve been off all morning.”

Like he cares, she thinks, her mood souring further at the fact he doesn’t see through her or even care at all, he’s here at the request of someone else. Following up on his duties as a captain and fulfilling a favour for one of his actual friends.

Embarrassment floods the pit of her stomach, and rears its ugly head in the form of her biting tone when she replies, “Jack’s been out all morning, how would he know?”

“He left you to do all this on your own?” Nico frowns, gesturing around to the half-way set up apartment. All that’s left to do aside from put up the decorations she’s just lugged up is set up the food and drinks, and Poppy figured she could leave that task to Jack so that it all remained fresher for longer. 

“I do this kind of thing for a living, remember?”

She cringes inwardly at the venom in her voice, turning away from him with a huff and missing the way his posture deflates. 

“You run events, Poppy, you’re not an assistant.” She can hear his heavy footsteps follow as she moves to set up the photo-booth area. “If I’d known he had you running after him all morning, I’d have-,”

“Called someone else to come help me so you could carry on avoiding me?”

She really is wound up now. Jack bailing on her to do God-knows what while she sets up his party had been one thing - there was a rational part of her brain that would tell her there would no doubt be hiccups in trying to source a bunch of DJ equipment in New Jersey on New Years Eve and he hadn’t actually bailed - and she could write off Nia’s disappearance due to the fact Poppy had sprung the plans on her last minute when she got home and called her last night, and she was bound to show up at some point. But Nico implying she is letting Jack walk all over her and needs anyone’s help to get through setting up a basic party is downright offensive. At least, in her stressed out state, it is - and so she can’t find it within herself to bite her tongue about their situation any longer.

If it drives him away and brings back her solitude to finish setting up without him occupying any precious mind space, so be it.

She almost forgets a key fact about the man before her. He doesn’t give up so easily.

“I’m not avoiding you.” He bites back, stepping into her space and helping her lift the backdrop roll to fit into the brackets she had set up earlier when the structure for the booth had arrived. “I would have come to help you, myself, Poppy.”

She wishes he would stop saying her name. 

4 months of radio silence and he’s thrown it at her like a dagger twice in the span of 30 seconds, the way his it rolls of his tongue in a low, smooth rasp scratching an itch she didn’t know she had, and now she can’t shake it. 

“I’m fine,” she huffs, reaching as far as she can and pressing until she hears the brackets click into place. At the brief noise, Nico catches on to what he needs to do at his side and manages to click it into place, barely lifting his arms. She moves into the middle of the structure, pulling at the velcro tab holding the roll together until it cascades to the floor and unveils the backdrop in its entirety. 

“What else needs doing?” He asks, his tone gentler this time.

“Nothing,” she mutters, winding the velcro in between her fingers to occupy them, before moving to pass him and make her way to the next task on her list. It’s only small things now. Arranging the balloons, setting up the arch, clearing table space for the equipment when Jack finally arrives home. “You can go, I’ve got it.”

“Mohn,” Nico sighs lowly, warm hand clasping around her forearm as she attempts to pass, holding her in place beside him. 

She really wishes he wouldn’t call her that.

If Jack is the prince of childish monikers that make her insides curl, Nico is the king of making her melt.

The nickname takes her straight back to the days before the waves of the summer break washed their friendship away. The times where he’d give her a ride home from the Prudential Center after work, whispering a, “Goodnight, Mohn,” in her ear as they hugged goodbye over the centre console in the front of his car. The times she’d meet up with the team to celebrate a win at their favourite bar, and he’d throw a never-casual, “Looking good, Mohn,” her way with an appreciative once-over. 

And it takes her even further back to when they had met, and she’d first offered her name.

“I’ll be interning with the content team, my name is Poppy,” she had offered a bright smile, reaching her hand out for him to shake, and making sure to keep a firm grip, just like her father had taught her, when he places his hand in hers. As she had done since she was a child, it was instinctual to follow up with, “Like the flower.”

“Mohnblume,” he had uttered, a smile so deep his cheeks dimpled into deep valleys.

“Huh?” She had been only a little bit caught out by the way his eyes shone, forgetting her manners as her head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Poppy flower, that’s what it is in my language.”

“Oh,” she had exclaimed, furrowed brows raising, a soft flush warming her cheeks, “Pretty!”

“Very.”

She had convinced herself for a long time that it was just his way of remembering - an aid in blurring the lines between the two languages that, especially back then, he often found himself mixed up in. And then, after a while, using it seemed to bring a protected familiarity between them - like an inside joke - and he’d use it less in front of others and more in the times it was just the two of them.

Years down the line from hearing it for the first time, and months down the line from hearing it for the last, her heart still thumps the same erratic beat at the sound.

Nico’s eyes still shine the same way when he looks down at her, and she fights every fibre of her being not to think too much about it. Or not to think about the touch of his hand on her arm, still holding her in place, the two of them closer than they have been in a long time, now.

It’s painfully easy to forget the months of distance after only seconds in his immediate company - to wipe from her memory the reason for her reticence and to push down the stubborn desire to push him away.

Her lips part to speak, and she doesn’t know if she’s about to turn him down or take him in, because another voice fills the apartment before any words get the chance to spill out.

“I come bearing gifts!” A sing-song lull breaks the silence as her best friend makes her presence known, entering the apartment with a drinks carrier in one hand, and a to-go back over the other wrist. 

Poppy steps away, shaking Nico’s grip from her arm, and turns to give Nia her full attention, hoping that she is either too hungover or too focused on herself to see or care about the obvious tension between her and the captain. She manages to bite her tongue from letting a Thank God slip out, and makes her way over to retrieve a much needed drink.

“They were out of chai so I got you an iced tea,” Nia holds out the drink to Poppy, and then the to go bag, “And half a cinnamon roll.”

“Half?”

“What? I was hungry too.” Nia scoffs, turning her attention to the brooding presence on the other side of the room. “Sorry, Nico, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Would you have only eaten a third if you did?” He trials a joke, and when Poppy sneaks a peak back toward him, he looks apprehensive - scratching at the nape of his neck as if anticipating a bad reaction to his attempt at lighthearted humour.

“I’m sure Poppy doesn’t mind sharing if you’re starving,” Nia makes her way to the bar set up by the kitchen, placing her own cup down and shrugging off her purse beside it. 

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving her of half a cinnamon roll.” While his words are directed to her best friend, Nico looks at Poppy with a wistful smile, and she can practically see the memory of an old shared routine wash over his eyes. 

A weekly ritual of meeting by the PATH station close to both of their apartments on a free morning for a run, and then catching breakfast to go and grab a juice or a smoothie for the walk home - abandoned just like all the other little traditions they once had together.

Nico and Poppy had been close, before. Closer than she is to Jack, now - closer than she’s been to anyone else on the team, ever. So close that Nico knows her best friend enough to joke around with a familiar ease; so close that they’d even hung out as a three before, back when the girls shared an apartment in Poppy’s first year with the Devils, and he had been the only person that Nia had ever been happy to share her childhood friend with. 

And now, Poppy stands between them in a silence so uncomfortable she feels like the room is shaking.

She hasn’t talked to Nico in months, and hasn’t talked about him in just as long, but she knows Nia can read her like a book. 

The girls had grown up together - been through everything side by side, pinky fingers intertwined with an eternal promise of friendship and understanding. The demise of relationships, friendship group implosions, familial hardships, Nia’s goth phase, the time Poppy wrecked her hair dying it a vibrant cherry-red because her high school crush said Ariana Grande was hot - she still shudders thinking of how her hair glowed red in any direct light for years in the aftermath. Through middle school, high school, college, and all the way up until now, the pair know each other inside out.

So Poppy knows that Nia knows something happened.

Nia knows that Poppy hadn’t been able to go a day without bringing up the Swiss Captain before the summer, and then all of a sudden, she didn’t mention him at all. But she also knows her friend well enough and loves her too much not to have pressed on an open wound.

“It looks insane in here, Pop,” Nia gawks at the set up around her, every corner of the open plan layout of Jack’s large apartment decked out with decor and party amenities. “Do you guys go this hard every year?”

“Depends who’s hosting,” Nico shrugs, knowing when it had been his turn the year before, his event had been much more lowkey. Poppy had seen the pictures, had been sent an abundance of wish you were here snapchats around midnight from the Captain himself. Jack has a thing about his reputation that won’t let him even consider doing anything lowkey. “I forgot this would be your first year coming.”

“Oh, we’re not coming.” Poppy covers her mouth as she speaks around a bite of her food, unable to wait until she’d finished her mouthful due to the immediate urge to shut him down once again.

“You’re not?” He almost sounds disappointed. She doesn’t dare check for the furrow of his thick eyebrows or the pout of his lips. “Jack said he’d convinced you.”

A flash of anxiety shoots across her chest at the thought of him considering her attendance. Had he asked Jack? Had he mentioned her specifically - pushed him to convince her? Or had Jack just brought it up in an offhanded comment?

“I just agreed to get him off my back about it.” Her choice of words is only slightly intended to hurt. She and Nico were no longer friends - she hadn’t been the one to make that decision. Despite that fact, she tries to suppress the guilt clawing at the base of her throat at the wash of understanding that passes over his features. A solemn nod, gaze bouncing to the floor, lips pressed together. “We have plans with our friends.”

“Actually,” Nia’s voice captures both their attention swiftly - Poppy’s head whipping around in subtle alarm and Nico’s in anticipation. “Blake’s flight back from Arizona got cancelled, and Kelsey bailed on me last night because she got Covid of all things over Christmas.”

“What about Emma?” Poppy asks, hoping and praying their hermit friend has all of a sudden grown some stellar social skills and agreed to carry on their tradition for the sake of Poppy’s sanity.

“She double booked with her boyfriend, and he’s a huge drip I don’t really wanna hang out with those two all night.” God damn Emma and her tool of a boyfriend, Poppy thinks. “At least if we come here, we’re still close enough to your place we can make it back for fireworks on the roof.”

“We get a great view of them from this building,” Nico makes his presence known again, attempting to offer a solution. “If you didn’t want to walk back home so late.”

“See, Pop,” Nia claps her hands together with a grin, “We get to come to a cool party, don’t have to worry about creeps following us around all night, and still get to hold on to tradition. Win, win, win if you ask me!”

“Right,” Poppy sighs, knowing now that Nia has her heart set on the plan, there’s nothing she can do about it. Any persistence on her part would be too obvious. “Fine.”

“Awesome! What’s left to do?”

Poppy eyes Nico, knowing she’d told him only a few minutes ago that there was nothing left. “Just need to clear a table for the equipment Jack’s getting,”

“Which one?” Nia asks, making her way over with her iced tea in hand once Poppy points toward the table in the corner by the wall-to-wall window. “Are you helping or just standing around looking pretty?” 

Nico’s cheeks flush, a subtle warmth arising to his skin, and he gives a bashful chuckle.

Poppy feels a little nauseous, and it’s not from the sickly sweet half of a pastry she’s just forced down.

Nia’s eyes flicker between the two of them like she’s at a grand slam, and her lips twist to hide a smile.

“I actually need to head out,” he says, gaze darting quickly to Poppy before turning to her best friend, “I have some things I need to do before tonight. It was good to see you, though, Nia.”

Nia hums around the straw of her drink, giving a dismissive wave. “You too, see you later!”

Nico begins towards the door to the apartment, and just before he passes Poppy, he stops. He doesn’t reach for her this time, doesn’t step too close, but she can feel his presence regardless. And every hair on her body stands to attention like she’s been shocked by static when he says, lowly, “I’ll see you tonight, Mohn.”

She can only nod in response, not trusting her voice to speak, not trusting her eyes to look into his and be able to look away. 

After he departs, there are a few minutes of an ear-piercing silence. Poppy can hear every movement Nia makes, from the slurp of her drink, to the manner in which she throws things around with little care for where they end up. And louder than anything, she hears the violent thud of her heartbeat in her own ears.

“So,” Nia drags out when Poppy joins her at the almost empty table. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Poppy and Nia have known each other fifteen years, she doesn’t know why she hopelessly thought that would work.

“Don’t play dumb,” Nia scoffs, “You and Captain Sexy,”

“There is no me and Nico,”

“But you know who I’m asking about,” she scoffs like she’s caught her best friend out, and then adds, with a suggestive wiggle of her brows, “So you do think he’s sexy?”

“What are you, twelve?” Poppy rolls her eyes, “He’s the only captain we’ve been in a room with, pretty obvious who you were referring to.”

“Admit it, Poppy, I saw the two of you when I came in, you totally wanna jump his bones, you have for as long as you’ve known him.”

“We’re not having this conversation, Ni.”

“The hell we aren’t!” Nia grabs her best friend by the shoulders, “I’ve bitten my tongue for months, Pop, watching you mope around and get all glum whenever work is brought up. I couldn’t get you to shut up about the guy before, what the hell happened between you two?”

“Nothing happened!”

“It totally did!” Nia can spy the aversion Poppy is attempting from miles off. “Don’t tell me you two finally hooked up and you didn’t fill me in,”

“He has a girlfriend, Nia.”

The way Poppy says it is like a period to a sentence. End of conversation. End of speculation. It doesn’t matter what they had been before, or what they are now. It doesn’t matter what she feels. There is no her and Nico because he is someone else’s. That’s the crux of it.

“Since when?” Nia frowns. 

“Since the summer just gone.”

And there it is. Understanding washes over the face of her best friend, and Poppy has to force herself to look away. 

He’d maybe been with her before that, too, but Poppy doesn’t actually know the entire timeline of it.

All she does know is that he’d come back from Switzerland with a drop dead gorgeous model hanging off of his arm, and he no longer had a use for Poppy in his life.

She knows other little bits, that she’d sourced from parts of conversations with others, or potential social media sleuthing that she will never admit to even with a gun to her head.

Talia, a model from somewhere close to home back in Europe, and Nico had hit it off at some festival when he’d gone back to Switzerland for his break. He’d very quickly and very clearly become smitten with her. Poppy had seen as much with her plastered all over his private stories and even posted on his private instagram feed.

By the time he came back to New Jersey for pre-season training camp, she was tagging along to team gatherings, he’d take her on his morning runs, grabbing breakfast together, he’d pick her up every day after work so he could no longer drive Poppy home, not that he’d ever attempted to explain any of that to her. She was at every home game, was his plus one to every event, and Poppy and Nico’s friendship had fizzled out so much that she sometimes feels like the whole thing had been a fantasy, or a figment of her imagination. Something she’d misunderstood, miscalculating every interaction they had ever shared and assuming they meant the same to him as they did to her.

They didn’t.

She doesn’t think any of it would have hurt her so much if he’d have let her down easy. A sorry for bailing on you the first time she’d text him if he wanted to meet up for their weekly run and he’d left her on read would have lessened the blow. He could have been straight up with an I just want to focus on my relationship right now. That would have been the decent thing to do, but he’d just dropped her, instead. Didn’t come around her office for lunch, didn’t text her after training when one of the guys said something stupid and he thought it might make her laugh. He’d cut her off from the intimate parts of his life - ghosted her, even - and all she could find it in herself to do anymore was miss him.

She’d made attempts to bring him around, at first. Tried speaking to him at work, tried texting, but after a few weeks of staring at the delivered sign at the bottom of their message thread, she had given up. It still taunts her every time she opens it up to delete the entire thing and move on like he clearly has - erasing all the inside jokes and times they had confided in one another like they meant ever meant anything in the first place.

She can count on her hand the amount of times they had spoken since the summer. Work related, entirely. A good game here and a have you seen whoever? there. Today is the first indication in months that they had ever been anything more than two people who worked in the same organisation. Friends of friends, co-workers, barely acquaintances.

Not people who know each other’s favourite holidays and are chummy with each other’s friends.

“I’m sorry, Poppy,” Nia frowns, “I didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, attempting nonchalance despite the stinging in the back of her throat. “Let’s finish here so we can go get ready.”

Nico

Nico Hischier isn’t the biggest fan of New Years Eve. He isn’t really a fan of the festive period, at all. He isn’t a scrooge by any means. He can appreciate the coming together of people and the celebration of the year just gone, and the one starting fresh - but ever since he moved from Switzerland and started his career in the NHL, the holiday period has felt unnecessarily long.

His schedule is jam packed - games up until the 23rd, starting again after Christmas on the 27th, and again after New Years on the 3rd - and there aren’t enough consecutive days together to celebrate in the way others get to do this time of year. 

He knows he has to make do with the fact - a small price to pay for living his dream - and his teammates help, all sharing in their sacrifices and trying to make the best out of a bad deal. But he can’t help but feel a lack. A lack of tradition, a lack of family being around, a lack of normalcy.

He remembers the holidays as a child, spending time at home with his parents and his siblings, having two weeks at home for his winter break and getting to spend his days doing whatever he pleased. As someone who moved overseas at such a young age, he looks back on those times fondly. 

But now, living at least 8 hours away from the rest of his family, this time of year only serves to remind him of the isolation that creeps up on him like a bad cold.

It starts at the beginning of the month, the sniffly nose period of the bug, when chatter starts around who’s doing what for Christmas. Decorations go up, parties are planned, names are passed around in a hat for Secret Santa, and discussions begin around who is managing to go where. 

Next comes the tickle in his throat - the last game before Christmas, where the team all depart and separate with temporary goodbyes as those who have family nearby all get to go home - their parents arranging home cooked extravaganza meals, reuniting with their siblings, exchanging gifts - and Nico, for the 5th year running, feels like a bit part in someone else’s festivities as he and a few of the other European guys all bustle into the dining room of whoever is willing to accommodate them for the day. 

Then comes the rest, the sneezing, the coughing, the lethargy, in the period between Christmas and New Years, when everyone is reeling off the back of their celebrations and looking forward to ringing in the next year with a big party. 

Nico had thought this year might have been better. He had been in a relationship, there were parts of the holidays he could tweak and adopt into his circumstances - exchanging gifts with a loved one, bringing her along to Christmas dinner at Jesper and Nicole’s place, and not having to feel like a third wheel or like he had to shrink to fit at the kiddie’s table. 

He’d even tried to start his own holiday traditions with Talia, his girlfriend. He’d booked an overnight stay at a fancy hotel on the Upper East Side in the middle in the month on one of the rare occasions he’d had two consecutive days with no game or other commitments - despite how hectic his schedule had been. He’d taken her Christmas shopping down Fifth Avenue like she’d talked so much about how she’d wanted to do ever since she came out to New Jersey with him after the summer. He’d taken her ice skating, away from the Rock so that it didn’t feel like work, they had bought and decorated the tree in his apartment together, he’d brought her along to every team holiday event.

And on the day of their home game against Anaheim on the 17th, just a few days after their trip into Manhattan, in the middle of the third period, she had unceremoniously dumped him with an I’m just not feeling this anymore. Over text. As she was already at the airport preparing to fly back to Munich to spend the holidays with her family. He had slumped into his locker after their brutal 5-1 defeat and couldn’t believe what he was reading.

Nico wanted to be angry. As he read the text, he could picture any other person throwing and smashing things. Calling her up and demanding an explanation - because it was clear she hadn’t been feeling it for longer than she let on, considering she was about to board a no doubt fully booked flight across the Atlantic in the eleventh hour. 

But there was too large of a part of him that just felt relieved.

Talia was great.

He had met her properly in the summer when he had gone home to Switzerland, but they’d had mutual friends long before. He’d liked a couple of her instagram pictures here, she had responded to a few of his stories there, and then they had been formally introduced at a friend’s party.

Things with her were easy, at first. Nico wasn’t looking for anything serious, and she had ticked all of the right boxes. She was good company, always down to do whatever he was doing with whoever he wanted to do it with. She recognised that summer was the only time of the year he truly had to himself, and she let him take the reins on how he wanted to spend it.

She would go on hikes with him, would lounge around in the sun if wanted, go to parties, go to festivals, join him on little weekend trips to Ibiza or Mallorca. And she was a great release when his training had picked up. She would work around his schedule. He’d invite her round to his apartment and he had enjoyed spending time doing nothing with her after a long day at the gym or at the rink.

She had slotted so perfectly into that version of his life that he gave very little thought into inviting her into the rest of it. 

She was beautiful, sociable, charismatic - and then she became hard work.

When summer was over, and he invited her to spend some time back in New Jersey, she didn’t quite grasp how much things would need to change. She constantly wanted to have plans. Wanted to go to parties, wanted to go out, be around other people, take little trips - and he had tried to accommodate her the best he could, but he didn’t have the time for himself, let alone for another person, to be doing things all the time. He had tried to tell her as much, and she said she was okay with it, said as long as he was present with her, she could settle for not doing the things they had in the summer, but she expected too much from him. 

She wanted Nico’s attention at all hours of the day, weaving herself into every aspect of his routine. He wanted to run? She would go with him, could really use the fresh air. He wanted to do some solo training at the gym? She had been meaning to work on her lifting. He couldn’t go to the grocery store - could barely even go to work without her wanting to be there. His phone would blow up whenever they were apart, and if he didn’t text her back straight away, she’d become cold - making him feel guilty and grovel for her forgiveness.

Talia was fun, until she wasn’t. Until she was exhausting, and Nico couldn’t keep up with her any longer. 

She didn’t give him the grace to have an off day. He was tired, he was struggling, and when the season kicked into full swing, and the team’s schedule was packed, he became unable to juggle it all.

His work was suffering, his star was dimming, his body ached and his performance dipped - both in his professional and personal life. 

And so, after the detonation of their relationship, a break up text felt a little like a wake up call.

Talia had contributed so much to the deterioration of normalcy in his life, that Nico was still trying to piece back together his routine 2 weeks later. 

His holiday period this year had been spent in a haze - and it wasn’t for the reason everyone thought. He had caught the pitiful glances sent his way over the dinner table at Christmas, had seen the way the couples in the room tried to spare him of their PDA whenever he was around, and he could have told them it was okay. He was okay. But there was a large part of him that was trying to figure that out, still.

He had known he wasn’t heartbroken. He wasn’t shooting off texts to Talia and begging for her to come back. He’d already boxed up what little belongings she had left behind and was going to ship them internationally after the New Year had passed. He had deleted, not archived, all their photos on his private socials, and had even deleted most of them from his phone. He wasn’t in pieces over the fact she had ended things.

But he knew something still wasn’t right.

At first, he had thought it was work related. Their worst week of the season had happened just before Christmas - 3 losses at home in the span of 5 days - and he thought that could be the reason for his slump. Then, they won against Detroit and he still felt off.

Then, he thought he had been anxious about Christmas - about showing up on his own, having to explain his breakup to everyone not quite caught up on the news yet, and he would have to wallow in that same old feeling of watching everyone else enjoy the holidays. But Jesper and Nicole had thrown together a pretty nice day for the guys. The food was great, the company was great, and he’d gone back to his apartment that night with a feeling of relief - like he’d been dreading something for so long only for him to have genuinely enjoyed himself.

And finally, as if being thrust into a freezing cold ice bath, realisation had washed over him on the morning of the team’s final home game of the year against Columbus. 

He had been walking through the back offices of the Prudential Centre when he had stumbled upon a conversation, and had heard Poppy Jensen’s voice for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I’m just kinda beat, to be honest, J,” she had said in response to a question Nico hadn’t caught. He had thought no one would be around, most of the Foundation staff having the week off, and hadn’t expected to come across anyone on his venture to the best vending machine in the building. The Foundation offices were often frequented by kids, and had an assortment of candies throughout their machines instead of the protein bars or rice cakes elsewhere in the staff areas. At the sound of her voice, he had come to an immediate halt, peaking around the corner where he could see into her office. She was moving some things into a box on her desk and Jack Hughes was reclining in the chair in front of it that once had been claimed by Nico as his own. “I’m all social interaction-ed out, the holidays have kinda beat me to a pulp, I don’t think I could keep up with you guys, I’m sorry.”

Nico watches as she swats at his feet when he tries to kick them up onto her desk, and can’t quite see the crease between her brows as she frowns at their mutual friend, but can remember how it used to form all the same. “You’re such a bullshitter,” Jack had scoffed, clearly pre-empting the stapler Poppy would throw at him, managing to catch it with ease. 

“You can’t call me a bullshitter in my own office,” she gawked, “You don’t see me marching out onto the ice and calling you an attention whore.”

Jack had thrown the stapler straight back. She caught it all the same, and dropped it into the box.

“You haven’t hung out with us in forever!”

“We hung out at the Toy Drive like 2 weeks ago!” There had been two toy drive events organised by the Foundation in different parts of town, and, as he had long become accustomed to, Nico had been put on the one separate to the event Poppy was working. It had been fun, but when he’d checked the social posts the next day and seen the pictures posted of the other team - all smiles between them, a slightly blurry Poppy in the near background of all of Jack’s pictures to indicate how close they had been throughout the event - he had felt like he’d missed out on something.

“That was work, it doesn’t count, Popsicle.” Nico could hear the roll of Jack’s eyes.

“Yeah, well some of us don’t consider helping underprivileged children and spreading Christmas spirit ‘work’, Jack.” Poppy had used air quotes to emphasise her sarcasm, and a fond warmth had spread throughout Nico’s chest at hearing her hold her own against someone as brazenly wise as Jack Hughes. “I thought we were hanging out, having fun, improving our community together. You should really check your ego!”

“I sh-,” Jack had managed to cut himself off, no doubt realising how loud he had gotten. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding the whole team all year, ‘cause you’re hung up on-,”

The door to Poppy’s office had slammed closed before Nico had a chance to hear the end of his teammate’s sentence. Their voices had been muffled after that, and shame had started to creep up on Nico at the fact he’d been eavesdropping on a private conversation.

He’d foregone the snacks he originally snuck off in search of, and returned back to the locker room to get ready for his practice skate. 

For the first time in a long time, when Jack arrived and threw himself down on the bench beside him, Nico had wanted him to bring her up.

In the months prior, he would freeze up at the mention of Poppy Jensen, not wanting to face the reality of his dwindling connection to someone who had once been such a huge part of his life. He had other focuses - namely, Talia - and reflecting on what had once been between the two of them did not serve any kind of good purpose. It opened him up to uncomfortable conversations that he wasn’t willing to have, uncomfortable realisations he couldn’t quite come to terms with, and he had been too comfortable avoiding any kind of confrontation around it.

But in the short time between witnessing the conversation between Jack and Poppy, and getting ready for the team’s morning practice, too many questions had been swirling around his mind, and he needed answers.

Why was Poppy packing up her desk?

Why was she avoiding hanging out with the team?

What was she so hung up on? Had something happened?

He’d spent so long avoiding even thinking about her, that he all of a sudden felt like he’d missed everything.

Luckily for him, Jack Hughes needed little to no prompting for his blabbermouth nature to prevail.

“You know, for someone who’s literal job it is to lead us as a Captain, you’ve done terribly at warning me just how stressful this whole New Years thing is,” Jack had huffed as he began changing into his practice gear.

“I did nothing but warn you,” Nico responded, “You called me Mr Grumpy Pants and told me I was just afraid your party was gonna be better than mine.”

“Yeah, well, you should have insisted, it’s stressing me out.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nico scoffed, running a hand through the mess of his hair and leaning back into his locker. He watched Jack’s jittery movements as he shrugged on his pads, and felt the need to reassure his friend. “Everyone’s looking forward to it. As long as there’s plenty to drink and decent music, people will have a good time.”

“Not everyone,” Jack grumbled, “I can’t even get Poppy to come and she loves parties.”

So that’s what they had been talking about. 

Poppy did love parties, but Nico couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her at one. 

“Poppy has a New Years ritual, she didn’t come to mine, either, I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it.” Nico shrugged, despite the wave of a memory that washed over him of him doing exactly that when she hadn’t showed up last year. He’d had to restrain himself from leaving his own party - spent the night texting her updates on what everyone had been doing, snap-chatting her pictures in the hopes it would entice her the few blocks over from her apartment building. He’d only been consoled by the text he’d received just after the clock had struck midnight, settling for the pride in knowing he had been one of the first to get a Happy New Years message from her - knowing it wasn’t just a mass text she would have copy-and-pasted to everyone else, and had been personalised to him with a bunch of perfectly curated emojis and exclamation marks after his name.

Nico didn’t see Jack’s stiffened posture at the way he had so nonchalantly mentioned her for the first time in forever. Didn’t see the side eye, or the pensive twist of his mouth as he carefully considered his next words like he was about to step through a minefield.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he had sat back down on the bench beside Nico to put on his skates, “I’m definitely her favourite, she’s been helping me organise the whole thing, I don’t think it will take much to convince her.”

Nico tried not to show any kind of reaction to Jack being Poppy’s favourite, or at the thought of how much time they must be spending together to organise such an event. A part of him knew he was only saying it to rattle him. “Cutting it a little fine, aren’t you? New Years is in a couple days, and the guys from the Foundation aren’t even around this week, are they?”

“She’s covering someone on content until January, I said I’d drive her home after the game and me and Lukey can double down on it. And if we can’t get it done tonight, she’s coming on the road with us at the end of the week. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Oh,” Nico was thankful for how Jack had leaned over to tie his skates up, because he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been able to mask whatever had flooded over him at the revelation that his teammate would be driving Poppy home.

That was his thing. He was pretty sure his passenger seat was still positioned to her liking despite how long it had been since she’d sat in it. He was still working his way through the stash of smiley face air fresheners she had stashed in his glove compartment. He still felt like he was forgetting something every time he left the parking lot and she wasn’t sat beside him, chatting his ear off about some of the kids she had worked with in the day.

“Maybe you should ask her?”

Nico’s eyes shot over to meet Jack’s in alarm. “Me?”

“Yeah, the more people that ask, the more she might feel like she’s missing out. Flash her those cute dimples, how could she possibly say no?”

“I think I’m the last person that’s gonna convince Poppy to come, Jack.” Nico had tried to be nonchalant about it, but he had come across so painfully uncomfortable that he could feel the hair on his arms stand, not liking the ache that spread through his chest at the statement. 

There was once upon a time that cheering Poppy Jensen up had been a large part of his routine. Even small acts, like bringing her a coffee on a busy day, where he knew she wouldn’t take a break to go get one herself, and knew how much she disliked the stuff from the pot in her office. Sending her texts from across the room when there were big organisation meetings and he could see her chewing at her fingernails at the vast amounts of information being spewed about. Tagging her in cute animal videos he’d come across on TikTok when he was across the country on a roadie and on a different timezone - she’d wake up to them sometimes, and he’d wake up to her response.

“Right, I forgot you two aren’t friends anymore.”

“Is that what she said?” Nico had swallowed down the hurt at the thought of her coming to that conclusion - vocalising it to someone and finalising the decision before he had any chance to do anything about it.

He couldn’t really blame her, though - he’d had plenty of chances.

Nico could feel himself beginning to spiral, words swirling around his head like a tornado of realisation and guilt. 

Aren’t friends anymore.

Avoiding the whole team all year.

Jack is driving her home.

He’s her favourite.

Aren’t friends anymore.

Shit.

He didn’t even take in Jack’s response to his question. As much as he wanted to know the answer, he couldn’t bear to hear it. 

Nico couldn’t face up to what he had truly lost.

It wasn’t his girlfriend of five months, who had dumped him over text during the most wonderful time of the year. It wasn’t a few games, that, sure, it had sucked that they had been beat, but in retrospect, the team had had a pretty decent start to the season, and shouldn’t have had his back up that much. 

Nico had lost someone who had, at one point, been the most important person in his life. 

The person he would usually have gone to to help him through the other stuff - the breakups, the losses, the stress, the anxiety - the crushing weight that had been pressing down on his chest since he had left for Switzerland at the beginning of summer. 

Nico and Poppy used to work around each other like a beautifully choreographed, well-rehearsed dance. She always knew when he was overwhelmed or exhausted, he always knew when she was stressed or upset, and they both knew how to pick the other back up. 

They hadn’t even fallen out of sync when they’d stopped talking to each other, only this time, they were moving around each other. If Nico entered a room, Poppy would leave. If she knew he was going to be at a team party, she’d make up an excuse not to go. If someone mentioned Poppy in casual conversation, Nico would quickly change the subject. All of it had been subconscious, on his part, at least.

It had been so easy after such a prolonged distance between the two of them to move when she pushed, to watch when she ran, like he had grown into his part in their relationship akin to repelling magnets, always moving away from one another.

It had been so easy that he hadn’t even really realised what was happening - lost and handicapped by a thick fog clouding his thoughts and his judgement. He’d let their once blooming friendship wither and die, and for what?

As he had watched Jack waddle out of the locker room for their practice session, muttering a dismissive, “Whatever, I’ll figure it out,” to his Captain, it was like he had been awakened into full consciousness. 

Nico had thought that his turmoil had started with the holiday period. Had thought the ache of homesickness had swirled in with the grief that came with the loss of his relationship, and the shame his poor performances on the ice had thrown upon him. But it had started long before that. He hadn’t been himself since he’d returned from his summer break. Before that, even.

Without realising that he had lost her, Nico had spent the last few months subconsciously mourning his friendship with Poppy - the crushing weight of that grief consuming him to a point that he felt lost with no way out, and had expressed it in a bunch of misguided ways.

He reached into his bag to retrieve where he had stashed his cellphone, scrolling through his Messages app until he stumbled across Poppy’s name. The last text had been sent in September, by her, and he had never responded - had never even opened it, the blue dot to the left of their message thread taunting him with chirps of how awful he had been to ignore it.

Poppy: Hey, can we talk? I miss you.

How late is too late to reply to a text like that? He could only hope she still felt the same way.

Turns out, 4 months might be too late.

Nico has drafted an embarrassing amount of messages to Poppy over the days since that conversation in the locker room.

His notes app has a whole folder dedicated to her. Bullet pointed lists, random memories that made him think of her, structured essays that laid out a timeline of their friendship, and all the mistakes he would need to beg for her forgiveness for. 

He’d tried sending a message when he had got back to his apartment after the game against Columbus, feeling a rush of confidence from the adrenaline of their OT win, his high had soon dwindled when he was alone. He sat staring at all the different iterations of an apology he could offer, and had even chickened out of the final draft of a very simple but hopefully effective, ‘Hey.’

He knew he was overthinking it. A conversation starter would at the very least open the door for the apology, and all he needed to do was talk to her in some way - but that turned out to be easier said than done.

She wasn’t in her office when he’d gone to seek her out at work the next day, and when he realised she was probably in the content and media offices, he felt like he would be cornering her if he sought her out in front of anyone else. When the weight of how far removed they now were from each other’s lives dawned on him, a text felt too informal, and so the paragraphs sat untouched in his notes. The weather hadn’t been too great, so he couldn’t try and intercept her on the running route he knew all too well, and even attempting to orchestrate a seemingly random encounter outside of work seemed too creepy so stopping by the cafe around the corner from her apartment in the hopes she’d be there grabbing a latte was off the cards. 

He’d seen her on the plane to Ottawa, having to pass her seat to get to the team section at the back, but he had a few people boarding behind him, and she had her eyes cast toward her cell, headphones on and typing intently to somebody, he couldn’t even offer her a friendly smile to try and warm her up to the possibility of a conversation.

Between their win against the Senators, and their loss against the Bruins the next day, there wasn’t much time, or energy, really, to seek her out, and so he’d had to press the breaks, but as they flew back to New Jersey from Boston, a panic had started to swirl within his chest.

Nico knew he couldn’t enter a new year without clearing the air, and so time was well and truly running out. He again had seen her on the plane, and when he had plucked up the courage to get up and go sit with her, Jack had beaten him to it. When the plane had landed, and the team bus had driven them all back to the Rock, the Hughes brothers had both walked her to her car to see her off for the evening. 

For someone who had been not-so-subtly trying to initiate a reunion between Nico and Poppy for so long, Jack Hughes sure knew how to get in the way. But, he was easy to forgive - especially when Nico had woken up to his texts late this morning.

Jack: need ur help

Jack: urgently

Jack: wake up dude

Nico: I’m not driving anywhere for you

Jack: not asking u to

Jack: u will like this I promise 😌

Nico: what do you want?

Jack: need u to keep Poppy company

Jack: she’s in my apartment and she seemed off when she got here

Jack: been on her own for a few hours

Jack: so she’s grumpy 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 👹👹

Nico: doubt I can change the grumpy part

Nico: especially if you’ve left her alone for hours

Jack: don’t need to

Jack: ur a grump too

Jack: will cancel each other out 👍🏻👍🏻😇😇

Jack: u going down or no?

Nico: fine

Jack: I’ll be back in 1 hr :)

Jack: love u cap ���

Nico: 🙄

And that was how Nico had found himself trudging down to Jack’s apartment, hopeful at the dream of a bridged gap between him and Poppy, and quickly disappointed by the reality.

She had been cold, rightfully so, and had made it clear as day she didn’t want anything to do with him. She had shrunk into herself, backing away from him any time he got too close,  defecting to a state of avoidance - gaze dropping to the floor, declining his offers to help her, making assumptions she was in his way, as if the thought of him seeking her out had become an entirely alien concept.

He couldn’t blame her for how she was being with him. It had been his fault things had collapsed between them - he’d come to that conclusion with the vast amounts of evidence piled up in his phone storage the past couple of days, but it didn’t make it hurt any less to see her like this - or to feel an actual, tangible resistance when he had tried to insist on being around. She didn’t want him around, that much was obvious, and it was starting to feel like it was to late to fix what he had so royally screwed up between the two of them. 

The once well-oiled machine that was their friendship was now clunky, clattering, dying a slow death with parts that were now obsolete.

But that didn’t change how much he wanted it to work. His parents had once told him when he was growing up that nothing was beyond repair, and if he wanted something fixed enough, he would figure out a way.

They had been talking about a model train he, his father and his brother had made when he was very young. The company that made the sets had gone bust, and they no longer sold the individual parts anymore - so when his sister had stumbled over something in the garage back home, knocked a box, and the once pristine collectable train had tumbled out and ended up cracked and chipped, he had been heartbroken. He and Nina had filled in the chips with wood filler, and touched it up with her nail polish, and it wasn’t the same but in a way it was better - a new sentiment attached with a memory of bonding with his sibling. 

The same thing could apply to his friendship with Poppy. Maybe they couldn’t go back to what they were - maybe they could be better.

And, when Poppy had made one too many attempts to push him away - when he had taken a hold of her after she had tried to move past him, dismissing him and his desire to help her, once again - a fire reignited within him. A spark of hope flickered at the familiarity that had flashed across her face as he referred to her in an endearment he hadn’t let himself use in so long.

In that moment - hand wrapped around her arm, just above her elbow, the skin soft and warm, close enough to smell the all too familiar cloud of vanilla-coconut scent that followed her, and her eyes locked on his - he had seen a crack in her armour.

He had seen an element of want - wanting to reconcile, wanting to fix things, wanting him in her life in the way he had been those months ago - and in a mirror of his own emotions, he had seen trepidation.

They wanted the same things, had the same fears, had the same end goal.

And when the unforeseen interruption of her best friend arriving startled her back into her withdrawn persona, he had realised something else.

Nia’s contrasting attitude toward Nico - open, friendly, familiar - had opened his eyes to the fact that Poppy hadn’t told her best friend about the demise of her friendship with Nico. 

And that, as much as it needed unpacking entirely, was Nico’s backdoor entry into the high security vault of Poppy’s good graces. 

Thankfully for him, Nia’s obliviousness to their tension had worked entirely in his favour. He tried not to look too much into Poppy’s attempted avoidance of spending the evening in his presence, despite her other plans falling apart. Tried to shoulder the blows of her sly digs at them not being friends anymore. Tried to ignore the pang in his heart at Poppy’s best friend being the one to throw flirty jibes his way, and not her. 

A determination had begun to brew within him - swirling, bubbling, steaming - and it was going to push him to finally bridge the gap he had forced between them.

His first success was her agreeing to come to the party, and he could easily build on that momentum.

Nico and Poppy were going to be friends again by midnight, he would figure out a way.

> Chapter One

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi. I have a pretty specific request for Kaz x reader. Basically, the reader was a part of the dregs for some time, well acquainted with Kaz, Nina and Inej (and Jesper, though I don't remember when he dropped studies and joined, but like yeah). After some time (2 years?) the reader is sent off to a job that causes them not to run into the main group a lot. For half a year they almost disappear (maybe swindling people in the harbor or watching some other Dregs’ territory). When they return all is good, new scars were definitely made and all, but that's a part of the job. They did mess up their leg though, having the knee crushed by a heavy object. They didn't get to heal it and after half a year its pretty hard to really fix. Unfortunately, they were known for their dancing and athletics as well as hand to hand combat before. That was why thy were seen as a valuable asset in the first place. And in the Dregs it’s not uncommon to overlook or hide injuries. So, though it's clear that something is wrong, they downplay it, afraid of being seen as weak or useless. But they struggle on the daily. I mean, from experience, that kind of an unhealed injury is hard to manage - they don't know how to sleep without pain flaring up bc the usual positions just don't work anymore, they have to relearn walking the stairs in a painless manner, whether changes are number one enemy, riding in anything is a nightmare bc the roads are bumpy, sitting apparently can cause pain too not to even mention walking. And all the fighting and acrobatics aren't as effective. They try to make others forget, trying to dance with Nina and Jes and sparring with Inej as if nothing happened. They want their life and self worth back

Before, they were known for keeping Kaz at a distance, which doesn't change at first. They still bicker, the reader is still distrustful. But I think he would be helpful. Not out of kindness, especially at first, but out of convenience. He can’t have them messing things up and so it starts small with offhand tips. Just enough not to have them get killed. Later, perhaps, they start talking more and the reader isn't sure if Kaz is still just the ruthless asshole they have to work with

To be fair, I don't have much plot. I just have my love for bittersweet stories and my messed up leg to provide inspiration. Also, don't care what you do with the gender, I used they/them to make in neutral but I don't really care. I know this request is long. No pressure if you don't like this scenario

-☆

My apologies for this taking so long. I was just scared that I wasn’t gonna do this justice. I hope it’s at least somewhat close. 🥺😫

Broken dreams

Playing a part was always hard. Fitting different masks. Making sure they didn’t slip. Always a smile. Always a careless, wild girl. But she just died last year. She was beaten. Broken to bits. Tossed aside. Left to die in that ally. To rot. Forgotten. Would anyone have come looking for you? Would have missed you? Grieved you? They killed the innocent girl that day. Left a broken shell of a woman in her way.

“Come on one more”, Nina pulled at your hand breathlessly. You quickly shoot her a smile, pushing the demons running in your mind aside. “We just sat down”, you chuckled while in reality, the idea of being up on your feet was making you want to turn to the side and vomit. “Oh, come on, we used to dance all night long, remember?”, she tossed her head back, downing her drink. “Jasper always steps on my toes, I need you to save me from that”, she cackled. Your eyes followed Jasper who was turning Wylan around. How much has everything changed in the time you were gone? It felt as if you no longer belonged. As if this version of you didn’t belong here anymore. “Are you feeling okay?”, Nina’s worried eyes watched you and you instantly nudged her, “Morning my freedom now that you’ve pretty much left your boyfriend for me”, you teased her. Happy to see her laugh. Off the hook then. “Lead the way”, you urged her. You could dance. Then down half the bottle of painkillers. Snatch one of the absolute bottles from Kaz’s drawer. It would work. You just had to pretend for a bit longer.

The pain was unbearable once you finally excused yourself. Sobbing the whole way back to the den. The agony felt like tongues of flames. No longer just in your legs. All over your body now. You slumped against the door. Letting yourself breathe. Trying to breathe. Only twenty sets of steps. It used to be only. Now it felt like twenty too many. Ot aggravated you. You wanted your body back. Wanted your freedom back. Wanted to be able to do things that others did. You just wanted it all to stop.

“Back early”, the voice makes you halt. Eyes growing big, you wipe your face before turning around, “Been a while since I drank so freely, Nina is also too persuasive”, you shoot a somewhat dazed smile at Kaz, who’s leaning against the the hallway arch. “You used to dance till early morning sun”, his words meet the target in a blind shot. Making your eyes sting once more. “You used to be more quiet. Don’t want to crawl back to your hole?”, it’s bitter. So bitter because he had learned to live with his pain. You were jealous of that. You had hoped that by watching him you would learn some tricks. How to navigate things that were easy once but brought you pain now. You learned to walk down the stairs because of him. Of watching him.

“You’ve changed”, Kaz’s eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “Rich coming from you”, you let out a chuckle, locking the outside door. “You’re defensive”, he continues to push, “You were never defensive with me. We argued. You tested my patience but you never bit me”, you hear the sound of his cane, then the smooth steps. “Why are you biting me now, YN?”, Kaz asks. “Don’t make everything about yourself, Kaz”, you turned around swiftly, feeling your legs dip slightly beneath your weight. But you bite back the cry of pain, stepping forward. Hoping to escape him. But Kaz’s cane comes in front of you blocking your way.

“You don’t get to walk away”, he grunts, turning his head to you. “I’ll ask this once”, his voice low, lethal, “So take your time to think”. You can feel him. Feel his eyes when he asks, “Who hurt you?”. The anger takes flight within you. Sending traitorous tears falling down your cheeks, “If I have an idea they would be six feet under”. He had played his part. Made you open the throbbing wound up for him to see. “They captured me. Broke my knees. I couldn’t…”, the words tumble freely, as you hide your face in your palms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”, his tone is blank, emotionless.

“What was I supposed to say?”, you crock out in frustration, “I was worthless then. I was of no use”. Kaz clenches his jaw, “So you hide the truth from me?”. You can’t help but growl in frustration, “I did the job you gave me. I got you what you wanted, what else do you want from me for fuck sake”.

And it’s a matter of heartbeats as your back hits the wall, Kaz’s cane now pressed against your chest, “I don’t give a fuck about the job”, he spats, veins visible in his tense neck now. “We could have gotten you a good doctor, could have…”, he grunts, “Did anyone look at the injury at all?”. You look at him for a moment. You could lie but what’s the point? “Some passing by a doctor”, you admit, “Fixed what he was able to, wished me luck, and left”.

Kaz shakes his head as he steps back, “How bad is the pain?”, “You want to bask in it?”, you clip right at him. “I should throw you out. Make you pay for ruining your own body so carelessly”, he hisses, “Legally you are mine. I own you. So your legs are mine to worry about”. You scoff, “How sweet of you, my gods”. Kaz’s gloved hand catches your jaw, the touch starts you both it seems. “I’m mad at you because you should have spoken up. I would have helped you. Would have dropped everything and made my way to you”, Kaz snarls through gritted teeth, “You’re starting physical therapy from tomorrow. That’s an order”, he steps back, pulls at his west. You blink up at him, knowing that you should say something. Anything. He would have come to you. But was it true? “If you ever pull anything like this ever again…”, Kaz doesn’t finish but you know well what his words imply, “I’ll see you in the morning at my office. Think well about the features of people who attacked”.

[nocturnesmoon]

Your guard dog

Tags: mild dark content(?), gender-neutral reader, random little story of the day that I'll probably never turn into a fledged out fic cuz I have too many projects, but it's on the list-

Simon has always been an honest man.

It's something he prides himself in. He may be tall, dark, terrifying to most around him, but he would rather have something horrible happen to him, than outright lie on purpose, especially to you.

When you first met, it went how it usually goes for people that are unfortunate enough to be in his presence. You were polite, as much as anyone else, not too interested in the big off-putting soldier that lurks in the back of the room.

Simon had never thought that you would stick around, nor did he expect that your tipping point would be an innocent birthday gift. You had been so enamoured by the fact he had actually listened to the things you said, and observed your actions, enough to give you probably the most accurate gift you've received in a long time.

One thing led to another, and years later the two of you find yourselves in a committed relationship.

There are a lot of things you can say about Simon. A common denominator is that he really has never knowingly lied to you. A feat you find impressive, gathered from earlier partners. He has his secrets, things in his past that he wishes to keep buried still, but he never lies to you.

Whenever you ask, he answers.

It's how it's always been.

The fact doesn't change when he then does things in secret. If you ask where he's been, he'll answer you honestly, if you ask what he's been doing he answers honestly, whether you like the answer or not.

He's always been good to you that way. If he ever catches a whiff of jealousy from you, he waits for you to come to him. You'll ask about his doings, he'll answer you accordingly, calmly, and quench whatever feelings pile up in your head. He knows he never has to stress about it, because all his actions are in servitude to you.

Whenever he goes on deployment, he knows how you miss him, how you wish you could be there with him, though it'd be dangerous for you. So he brings you things back, things of his loyalty, things that you would want and cherish, (Ignoring the fact that you'd cherish practically anything he gives you.)

When he's home he's even more devoted to you. Follows you around like a pup in need of attention, a pup that transforms into a fierce guard dog the moment you leave the house. Even if he tells you that his job is dangerous, you never fully get why he's so protective of you, like someone was going to take you away when he looks the other way. In many ways you don't mind it, it pays off having a big threatening soldier at your back to keep creeps away.

As nice as it is to have him though, he's not always there, and despite how you trust him, you don't like the dark look in his eyes whenever you tell him about an encounter you had with some creepy person trying to hit on you.

Once when you were idly cuddling on the couch, one rainy Saturday, you had playfully asked if he would ever kill for you. You hadn't expected a serious answer, maybe you had even expected him to scold you for asking such a question, given his job and having to deal with death in his life in that way. You hadn't expected for him to say yes so determinedly, a little too sure of it.

It's not the first time you've noticed odd behaviour from him. His overprotective nature can get a bit overbearing at times, he doesn't want you near any remotely dangerous object, occasionally he'll even get pissy about you using kitchen knives. God forbid you do accidentally hurt yourself on some object he told you not to use, with a grumpy attitude he'll patch you up, scolding you mildly, and the next time you go to use the same object it's mysteriously vanished or out of reach for you.

He has his own little policy for you as well, any and all problems you face, you come to him with. You found it nice, finally having such a tentative partner that listened so carefully. You hadn't expected that he was going to make most of your problems disappear on top of that. It was simple things at first. The coffee machine broke, he removes it and gifts you a new one. There's a thing at work you find frustrating, well the task is soon gone mysteriously. Even with himself, he does a thing that's your pet peeve, he changes it, makes the problem disappear.

It starts out small, and then it gets a bit weirder. You have an argument with a family member? The next time you see them they apologize profusely, and the matter is dropped, though they seem rattled. You think your neighbour is rude? Well look at that, they're moving out very, very soon.

You don't truly start to question it, before you notice the co-worker you complained about, disappeared without notice.

You try to hint at it to Simon, to subtly ask him if he had a finger in it. His answer is what terrifies you more, "careful what you ask of me, darling." You should be careful what questions you ask him what you tell him, because Simon is an honest man. You ask, he answers.

It makes you revaluate what you let him know, you start keeping minor problems to yourself, things or people that annoy you are reserved for your mind. He notices of course, he understands his darling is nervous of his actions, but he needs you to understand what he is doing, he is doing for you.

He starts figuring out your problems behind your back. You don't even need to tell him anymore, he will always know. There isn't anywhere you could go where he wouldn't reach you, where he wouldn't keep you safe and protected. You're his, just as he's yours.

Your true breaking point comes when the police shows up at your work place. They question you about the co-worker that had left work, not long after having an argument with you. You learn that this person hasn't been seen by anyone for several months.

You stomp home, knowing Simon is the only person that could've had anything to do with it. Your questions are met by a dark chuckle, he isn't even taking his own actions serious, not the way you're framing them. You plead with him to stop, to keep his work and your life completely separate.

His answer leaves you with nothing, "I can't promise you that darling, I'm doing this for you. You're mine."

Your only choice is to adapt, you don't ask the questions because you won't like the answers.

And when he goes out late at night without a word, coming back in the morning with blood on his hands, you wash it off gently, and bite your tongue.

Reminder that requests are open if you've got an idea you want written.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, love ya<3

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART ONE

— harry is your ex-husband and the father of your child, and the both of you are just trying to make it work 💛 (loosely inspired by taylor swift’s “gold rush”)

——

For you, Nashville used to be a place where family and love resided. When Harry realized he found fulfillment in writing songs there, he suggested buying a house in the eastern part of the city, where the historical streets and electric nightlife lent him endless inspiration.

That was during the honeymoon phase, when you two were bound by a thread of intense desire. Shortly after, the newlywed phase came with spontaneous decisions you couldn't help but ride along with. Even the marriage itself was on a whim. Harry bent down on one knee after only one year of long-distance dating, never sounding more confident than when he asked you to be eternally his. Again, you agreed. But why? 

Let's just say he has a contrarian way of thinking paired with strong persuasion skills. 

Two months after getting married, you fell pregnant and welcomed a baby before the first wedding anniversary could even pass. To put it truthfully, it was unexpected. There was no plan to become parents so soon, especially since Harry was at the height of his career. Nonetheless, both of you adapted to his busy lifestyle for the family's sake. Everything was arranged around his schedule, yet you never thought twice about it. 

There's no doubt that Harry is a wanted man. Everyone needs something from him, whether an interview across the country or a tour on another continent. He accepted the business calls and flights with no hesitation, and you couldn't necessarily blame him since it's all he's known for over a decade. However, after a while, it reached a point where you weren't seeing him in person for several weeks at a time. 

When you were his girlfriend, it was tolerable. As a mother, it was unbearably desolate. 

He's a yes-man who shies under authoritative rule, and it affected every crevice of your private life with him. All you needed was for him to be present. That's not to say he was disconnected or couldn't bond with his baby during the instances he was around; it was quite the opposite. You had never seen him so enamored with another human before. Unfortunately, the limited time he was home without obligations tying him down was too much for you. 

Those exhausting nights spent alone trying to calm a crying baby, wads of dwindling cash being slapped in the babysitter's hand, keeping up with time zones just to call your husband for a short and meager conversation about nothing—it was miserable upon reflection. 

Harry had attempted to convince you to join him on tour with the baby, but you could clearly see in his eyes that he was hesitant. All the traveling, sleepless nights, and potential invasion of privacy would have been too risky for such a delicate part of your lives. 

Eventually, the bomb dropped. You had a nagging thought in your brain that wondered why Harry couldn't just trim the length of his tour so he could stay with you more often. Or at least try to visit every once in a while on his days off. It shouldn't be considered selfish to ask for such things, right? 

Well, you were terribly mistaken. Those dreaded questions you asked him over a late-night phone call turned into a screaming match. Words like weapons were thrown around—ones you still regret today. Harry had cowered while putting his guard up, claiming it was his job and that he couldn't always be home. Something along the hurtful lines of "I can't do two things at once" sealed the deal. 

So, while sobbing on your bedroom floor as your baby cried in the other room, you suggested a divorce. It was later finalized with paperwork signed by both parties. One signature took substantially longer to get, but dwelling on that fact eats you alive. 

A lot has changed in the year since you've separated from Harry. You don't hate him anymore, for one. You never expected to fall out of love with him since his presence is too comfy and his efforts to mend things are too admirable. Vulnerable conversations with him elicited a mutual agreement that you shouldn't shut each other out, especially with a child involved. 

Now, you successfully co-parent with him during the periods he's not touring. The child custody lawyer recommended the 3-4-4-3 schedule: Harry gets your daughter for the first three days of the week, while you get her for the last four. The fourth day is swapped every other week to maintain an equal parental balance.

You would say it's going well so far. It's a little trickier now, considering this is the first time he's been on tour since the divorce, so the scheduling is constantly being rearranged. You've discussed the possibility of flying out to a few shows every month and then Harry flying out to Nashville on his days off. 

It's Friday, your day with your daughter, and Harry just so happens to be playing a second sold-out show in Nashville tonight. You couldn't attend the first one because of work, but you're here now, standing in front of his dressing room at the Bridgestone Arena. As you wait for him to finish getting ready, your daughter rambles about what she wants Harry to wear tonight. Wishes for princess dresses and tiaras are sprinkled throughout her incoherent toddler speech.

"Is that who I think it is?" Outside the closed door, Harry's deep voice makes your face heat, as you anticipate it to do whenever he's around. 

Your daughter's head snaps toward the sound of her father, her expression immediately lighting up. "Me!" she shouts excitedly, trying to wiggle her way out of your arms. 

"Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble over there," he says teasingly.

She giggles and reaches over to try and turn the doorknob, but Harry beats her to it. The door swings open, revealing your ex-husband in a tight-fitting silk vest with matching trousers the color of ivory. He looks like an actual angel sent down from heaven. You sometimes wonder what it must be like to be as beautiful as him.

Harry gasps dramatically when he sees who you're holding and scoops her into his tattooed arms, kissing her cheek repeatedly. "I haven't seen you in forever," he murmurs against her head. "I missed you so, so much." 

It's been almost two weeks since he flew out to visit when he had a few days free from performing. Rehearsals and meetings have been bogging up his time, so you know it's been killing him to go so long without seeing her. 

You silently admire their indescribable bond through a lens of what could have been. Your mind occasionally creates scenarios about him that you'd like to be true. In moments of weakness, you pretend there's still a wedding ring on your finger, and you even shamefully put it on sometimes. You pretend Harry is sleeping next to you at night by laying a pillow on the other side of the bed and letting your body naturally drift over to hold it. You pretend the songs he wrote about you aren't about the heartbreak and loneliness you caused, instead choosing to believe they're about someone else. 

"Picture," says your daughter, lightly hitting the phone in your hand and pulling you from your wandering thoughts. 

"Do you want to take a picture of him?" you ask her, placing the phone in her grasp.

She nods and fidgets with the side buttons. You take her from Harry's arms and help her hold the phone, telling her where to click while Harry sets down his mic pack and readjusts his outfit. 

"Ready? Tell Dad to pose." 

Harry puts one hand on his hip and sticks his leg out, his back's reflection visible in the mirror behind him. He tries to keep a neutral expression, but a smile grows as the camera flash goes off. 

This somehow feels… normal. 

You set her down so she can dawdle around the dressing room, then place your phone in your pocket. "Where is everyone?" you ask, accepting Harry's hug. 

He inhales deeply and tightens his arms around your shoulders. "I told them I wanted some alone time with you guys." 

When you swallow, it feels like there are thorns lining your throat. "That's sweet. I can imagine it gets pretty chaotic back here." 

"Mm-hmm," he hums, beginning to sway you side to side. "I'm happy you came." 

"So am I," you say, painfully aware of his warm skin against yours. "Sorry we couldn't visit sooner. Work has been really busy." 

Harry leaves a kiss so faint on your head that you almost don't register it. "Hey, don't apologize. You work hard enough. It means the world that you both came to watch me tonight." 

"Of course. You have no idea how proud I am of you." 

He still doesn't let you go, his big, comforting hands splaying across the expanse of your back. "The feeling is mutual," he replies, his gentle voice seeping into your senses. "Proud doesn't even come close to what I feel about you. You know that, right?" 

You can't help but brush the dust off his statement and dig for a deeper possible meaning. You still have love for him; you know that for sure, but is it too far-fetched to think he still has some for you? You already know the answer if the songs he wrote are any indication. 

In another life, you see yourself happily married and raising a child with him in the comfort of your home in Nashville. Waking up next to him every morning and padding across the wooden floor to the kitchen, where you'd make tea and breakfast together. Finding a steady rhythm in terms of balancing work schedules and parenthood and eventually falling into a perfect domestic routine.

Yet deep down, you know it could never be. Harry's lifestyle wasn't made to clash with yours as much as you might have believed it all those years ago. The highs couldn't outweigh the lows. His life moved too fast, while yours ran out of stamina trying to keep up. You carelessly jumped into his inviting waters too soon and didn't think of the devastating fate that would come crashing down on you. 

You would still die for his love, just like everyone else, but you suppose it will fade over time. 

——

[anamericangirl]

The most frustrating part of the discussion about drug shows, LGBTQ, pedophiles, and kids is how quickly leftists will change the subject to religion.

1: This drag queen who does a reading hour was found with CP on his computer.

2: There are pedophiles in churches too!

1: I'm aware of that. If there was a pedophile priest I would bring it to your attention too. I'm not talking about something that happened years, or months ago or any hypothetical pedos who still haven't been caught. I'm talking about what was reviled this morning.

2: You Christians are always demonizing poor LGBTQ people, making them look like they're after your kids. Deal with pedophiles in Churches first!

1: First of all, it's not only Christians who have problems with kids being taught LGBTQ and Drag Queens. Those things are obviously sexual. Talking about who you prefer in bed. Talking about changing your privet parts. ''Feeling'' like another gender. It confuses kids! That's why there is so many LGBT youth who later regret transitioning. Second of all, we are dealing with all kinds of pedophiles everywhere at the same time. There is no ''deal with it first''. There always be another one of these people. If we're only allowed to talk about pedophiles in LGBT spaces after we deal with pedos in Churches we will never get to talk about it. And even if by any chance we did succeed there would be no telling because of all the hypothetical pedos that can still be there. Also, why do you only bring the Christian religion? What about other religions that don't support LGBTQ? And what about religions that practice marriage between children and adults, actually, plain to see pedophilia?

2: So you're not only homophobic but also racist!?!

1: Religion is not a race!

2: Here, I found an article about a pedophile priest just a day ago. I will vandalize local Churches which have nothing to do with this guy.

1: What? Why? How will it help? If you're worried about children being abused why don't you just observe people around them and look for something suspicious?

2: The unfortunate truth is there always be pedophiles where kids are. Predator follows its prey. I don't think they go out of their way to work at a senior home instead of a school. Speaking of which there is much more pedophile teachers. Will be just as passionate about getting rid of them from schools as you are about getting them out of Churches?

1: I don't want to get rid of them from the Churches. I want Churches and Christianity gone.

2: By that logic, should we get rid of public schools?

1: I don't care about logic. I care about feelings, MY FEELINGS regarding hating anything Christian and loving anything ''progressive''. I use children to guilt trip you into agreeing with me.

A pedophile is a pedophile! Stop protecting them because they belong to your group! It makes that group look terrible.

That's a pretty solid break down of the problem here. Instead of just acknowledging the pedophiles in their own group when they are discovered they just deny, deny, deny and immediately just turn it onto christianity for some reason and find a news article about someone child molester from a church as if that makes a point against the pedos in their own camp.

And the thing is we're not even denying that some people in the churches are pedophiles. There are pedos everywhere and what we need to do is remove them, not act like they aren't there or just shrug and go "well I found one in your group too!!" Uh good job?? Let's get rid of them both.

Instead of trying to find who has more pedos we should just be able to unite on expelling them. Not denying the problem and trying to shift the focus elsewhere.

[sainteda]

If Merope Gaunt would have lived and raised Tom. What do you think would have changed?

ultimately, very little.

i think that any life with merope as tom's mother is 1. still going to end with him uncovering the nature of her relationship with his father and by extension her horrible upbringing, and 2. will be one in poverty wherein the devastation of the great depression and world war ii still greatly influence him as a child.

i asked this question to a few of my friends (because it got me thinking, thank you) and one of them mentioned tom likely being put in a role of parenting merope more than she might be able to parent him. i think there would be love there, in whatever way she understands it, but she's so damaged as a person and so unequipped to handle self-sufficiency that i think tom would feel responsible for her. unless one of them is magically conning their way into decent money, their circumstances would be poor, and considering merope delivered tom in london, i'm assuming they'd be living there.

tom having an awareness of his own magic and heritage from a young age might shift his self-perception somewhat, but for the most part tom in canon already had an understanding of his singularity in contrast to the other orphans and was unsurprised throughout the story to discover the extent of it.

if anything, knowing there is a wizarding world existing in parallel to the muggle world at an early age, while enduring poverty and later war, might just accelerate his resentment. especially going into hogwarts, this grand magical castle, his fear and anger are now much bigger than not having a home to go back to in the muggle world - he has a mother stuck in the heart of london during the blitz, and no one in the wizarding world cares to do anything about it. i'm of the belief that tom holds equal hatred for both sides of the world, but i think in a universe where merope lives, he sees the failure and carelessness of wizarding society so much sooner and much more callously. if merope dies because of their refusal to intervene in what they deem as muggle affairs, then, well... yeah.

really, i think voldemort is still inevitable in this version of the story, albeit with a few changes. the years prior to and following hogwarts might be somewhat different - i imagine tom would work in whatever way possible as a child in the war effort, sorting scraps for money or stealing if that wasn't possible (he seemed decent at it in the orphanage), and post-graduation (should merope survive the war and her declining health) might be interested in securing a better job than borgin & burkes. or maybe he really loves retail. he probably hates dumbledore x10 more regardless.

unfortunately, if anything were to change tom's fate, i don't think it's coming from his family. he's always going to hold resentment for the muggle world, but finding true solace in the wizarding world comes from someone within it changing his perception through real action. merope is just an extension of the ancestry he reveres so much - in having her in his life, there's no challenge to the delusions of grandeur he takes on in canon to make sense of the world, which are that he is fundamentally different to everyone else, muggle and wizard alike.

[spicyvampire]

Hi, since GMM has many Thai BL series, just wondering, do you have favorites from them? If you do, do you have 10 you like most so far?

I do not have the best relationship with GeeMeeMee but over the years they have provided some tasty bls here and there, I'll try to give you a little top 10

1.Not Me (2021)

To me that's like the best GeeMeeMee show ever made, great activism story, all the storylines are compelling, it gets accidentally funny with the twins stuff and the fact that Yok the resident arsonist is tryna fuck that cop so bad, but with Yok's help Dan finished realizing that he was part of a system that was beyond fixing and it was better to get himself free of it than staying, honestly has one of the best storyline and character development ever written in a bl

2. 3 Will Be Free (2019)

A gay mafia son, a stripper and a gogo bar manager walk into a bar, shenanigans ensue. To this day, the only GeeMeeMee show to have given me an endgame throuple and frankly one of the only cannon throuples we have in bl

3. Moonlight Chicken (2023)

By god Wen fucked that old man in the chicken shop, but in all seriousness this bl probably has the best breakup storyline I've ever seen in any media ever, it's a truly masterpiece; also we saw the story of a deaf character who uses sign language and that's not something you see often in bl tbh, wish we had more Gaipa and Alan but you take what u can get

4. Cherry Magic Thailand (2023)

Honestly this one took me by surprise, I'm not a fan of remakes but they did a really good job adapting those japanese characters to a Thailand setting while keeping some of the japanese background there, and go a bit further and deeper than the original did with some of the characters

5. Wandee Goodday (2024)

This one was my obsession for the last few weeks, unfortunately I think the show lost some momentum around the middle of it, and it needed more balance on some stuff, like one of Dee's big trauma wasn't even resolved even if they showed it affecting him pretty severely at least twice, while we spend like almost the whole 2nd half of the show on Yak's, overall very silly and enjoyable and also nice asexuality representation which is not something you see often in bl

6. The Eclipse (2022)

I'm not really a high school boy bl type of person and I usually avoid them but they got me with this one, I think Akk's storyline ressemble Dan's a lot in the sense that he had to realize he was part of a system that is bad and is using him to maintain a bad status quo and then had to free himself from it even if that's all he's ever known, Ayan is of course of a great help with his flirtiness, shenanigans and overall fuck the rules attitude

7. Bad Buddy (2021)

Thai bl's Romeo and Juliet, what I loved the most about this one was the attention put on the dynamics of Pran and Pat and their respective families, and how even if they didn't succeed in changing their fighting parents minds, they stayed together and continued to love each other because at the end of the day, the love was between them and it had nothing to do with their parents

8. He's coming to me (2019)

I love me a ghost story like any other guy, so this was right up my lane, I gotta admit it's been like 4 years since I've seen this so I don't remember the storyline clearly, but it left a good impression on me, so much that years later I still think of it as good

9. Only Friends (2023)

Top 10 messiest friend group ever created, this could have been higher on the list if they didn't do Boston dirty in the very last goddamn episode of the show

10. Dark Blue Kiss (2019)

I honest to god remember nothing about the mains but this show has the best coffee shop au in the ql universe and it's from 2019, SunMork chemistry is just firing all over the place, definitely my favorite Gawin ost too

[miloscat]

[Review] Sonic Rivals 2 (PSP)

Does Rivals 2 really rival Rivals 1?

Almost exactly a year after Rivals, Backbone produced a sequel. Given the quick turnaround you can't expect too much has changed—we still have a 2.5D race-based platformer—but they've done a good job stuffing new features and content into the package this time around. Is the new stuff a worthy addition though?

First I'll address the general refinements. Characters' signature moves are no longer at the whim of the rotating pickups, but given their own button and a dedicated meter that fills by collecting rings. This is a great change that adds dynamism to play, and makes character choices more meaningful. The action feels faster paced, with shortened windows to execute vaulting moves, for example. Presentation is a little more slick and the card collecting more transparently tied to your accomplishments (although they don't factor into the plot anymore). Weapon use has a little more depth as it's possible to avoid hits, and stage gimmicks get more involved at times. All these tweaks make for a stronger game experience, but I did feel like the bot players were harder, and story levels took me more retries on average... especially when playing as the characters with weaker abilities.

So the headline feature is the new playable characters. Added to the prior game's roster of Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Knuckles, and Metal are Tails, Rouge, and for some reason Espio. They bring new abilities of varied usefulness; Tails's flight is rarely helpful and Espio's merely makes you disappear from the level progress bar, but Rouge's homing bat missile is great. Apart from these powers, everyone plays identically. Story mode is still split into four perspectives as the roster of eight pair up... you can pick either character within a pair but I think this only changes which order you play out events within a zone, while each character still has a separate campaign progress. It's an odd choice.

The story follows its predecessor's example of constant misunderstandings and miscommunications as an excuse for the characters to get into petty conflicts. It also reuses the "Nega disguising himself as Eggman" plot device, although this time Eggman has an actual role in the plot. Not content to rip off its own prequel, Rivals 2 steals shamelessly from Sonic 06, as it culminates in a city of the future devastated by a raging beast of elemental fire whose name is taken from Islamic folklore, Iblis Ifrit! At least this game doesn't completely erase itself from history. Anyway, more characters means more interactions and this time the cutscenes—while still just text boxes and portraits visually—are all nicely fully voiced.

A new world map screen helps to contextualise things well and the new environments are just as nice and colourful as they were in Rivals 1. Among the race levels and boss fights (whose quality is on par with the prior entry's) are new level types. Some just have you run through a level solo against the clock or trying to collect rings or Chao; not very satisfying. Others are head-to-head battles in small arenas, and despite pushing them hard in the story mode I feel like these are a dud. Even with the standard multiplayer-type variants of deathmatch, capture the Chao, bomb tag, etc. these always seemed a drag when they came up in the campaigns. It's a shame that all these attempts at adding new things to do end up not as fun as the core gameplay.

At least the soundtrack is a step up, catchier and more exciting. The exception is the addition of a key vocal track, which only plays on the title screen and oddly in level one. It stands out, and not in the good way that His World stood out in 06. This sums up Rivals 2 in a nutshell: the core is enhanced and refined, but its new additions and ideas are a real mixed bag. This leaves Rivals 1 as a purer if rougher experience, which I prefer. Unfortunately Backbone didn't get another chance with Sonic as a couple of years later after a flurry of acquisitions and mergers this particular studio was closed down. There wouldn't be another Western-made platformer in the series until Boom seven years later... well, unless you count Unleashed for mobile phones, Jump, Jump 2, Jump Pro, Jump Fever, Dash, the Sonic CD remake, Sonic for Didj... you know what, never mind.

[good7luck]

personal, real life

negative, depressing (giving me a headache, at least)

mention of illness, hospital, passing away, etc

asking for your opinion(s)

(more under the cut)

.

This is very personal all of a sudden,

but I'd really appreciate your thoughts on this OTL

I know I cannot provide every single info and the full context, but I did my available best for now.

Summary exists at the end!

.

My mother (full housewife) has been ill and currently hospitalized since a while ago (as a part of her medical treatment, not some unexpected emergency), which would last for a month or so.

My father (full worker) has been pretty kind to her overall and helped her with everything needed.

But...he has had a problem with her housework ways, mainly with piles of stuff (which is sure a lot tbh). Recently, he has tried to randomly "organize" things (unbox, see, re/move etc) at home multiple times, which annoyed and stressed her very much everytime.

Now that she's in the hospital and not coming back anytime soon, it seems he decided to take it as a "chance" to re-organize all the stuff piled he didn't like in the house. Even if he's obviously not young in 40s or such, not so healthy, and still needs to go to work almost everyday.

The thing is...he's even going to dispose of her old religion-related books (Buddhism), including mostly given as presents when she was doing some volunteer works at some religious place(s) years ago (maybe some were purchased, idk). It's not that she read them often, but she has saved them there for years for a reason. And yet, today he already took many of them out of the shelf and put them in boxes to remove later (maybe in 2 days). Of course, he did NOT get any permission from her and did NOT tell her any of this at all.

In fact, I, too, have had a problem with a lot of the boxes and things she has purchased but often abandoned for years, even if I understand it's cheaper to buy things a lot on sale at once. I do feel very irritated when I newly find a bunch of food which expired 2021 or such.

Still...I wouldn't carelessly touch her religion-related books or such?? Especially when she's suffering from the illness right now, and the religion has been one of her rare comforts (even long, long before the illness), and the books are basically her private, not his?? I'm not even so religious myself, but this looks quite rude and abusive??

Unfortunately, he sincerely thinks he's ~finally~ doing the "right" job that should've been done long ago, and realistically it's plain impossible to persuade him. He would never listen, much less change his mind because of me (or even her, perhaps).

All I can possibly do is probably to hide her books. But it's quite a lot for my room; he's checking almost all the spots in the house, and no guarantee he wouldn't enter my room. I'm not sure if it would even work tbh, as he seems sooo determined about throwing away "unnecessary" things, and he might notice some are missing idk.

Honestly, I'd like to let her know about what's going on to her books, so that she's at least aware and can make her own choice. But...she's literally sick and very weakened, she had better not get stressed. She's going to take some serious treatment soon, which might or might not succeed. Strictly speaking...the possibility of her passing away in the hospital is not zero. It's surely not a good idea to add more problems there.

Before she got hospitalized, I did tell her that he might dig up the whole house, and she said he wouldn't cuz he should be too busy with his work (especially when she cannot do the housework for him). I was more joking, and she sure didn't take it seriously, but now my concern came true, much worse than I ever imagined.

I'm pretty sure she'd get super angry, no matter WHEN she gets to learn about this. Or, would she actually be able to take it better if she hears about this after coming back home? Cuz it's all "ended" then, after all?

I just...don't understand why he had to make things (even more) complicated and worse. Seriously, it's even not like she's very likely to pass away soon. He didn't mean this for sure, but more than often he doesn't realize how insensitive and impolite his action can be. Her religion books were not so many and so not a real problem, in the first place...

Summary:

My mother (housewife) is currently hospitalized due to her serious illness. My father (worker) is going to dump many of her old religion books (Buddhism) in 2 days, which were already half-boxed today. I could try hiding them in my room at best, which might not succeed. And/or I could contact her and inform her of what happened, which would give her a chance but definitely stress her a lot.

...I feel I'm probably being ridiculous and immature here, but I'm genuinely so stressed about this now, especially when I have my own real life problems to take care of as well OTL Maybe I just wanted to vent idk ^^;; I cannot guarantee I'd strictly follow the poll result or comments, but I'd like to know what other people would do. I appreciate your attentions!

.

(sorry this post cannot be reblogged and can be deleted in the future. this post is also not meant for screenshot or such spreading for obvious reasons. thanks for understanding...!)

[missnobodymadness]

for the big oc ask game (I wrote the questions too to clarify):

Evelyn - 🤝 8. How likely is it for your character to initiate a friendship? and 🎲 5. Which does your character prioritize more, work or hobbies?

And then for Tirannia - 🤝 9. Where is your character's comfort place?and 💓 18. How often does your character have nightmares?

Feel free to answer for any character too!

Hii again!

Once again I'd like to thank you for sending some asks my way, it really means a lot to me. ♥

So excited to talk about my OCs again, I haven't been talking about them as much lately. Unfortunately.

Anyway, let's start. :P

For Evelyn

"🤝 8. How likely is it for your character to initiate a friendship?"

Evelyn used to be really bad at initiating any kind of interaction, mostly because there weren't many kids around her neighborhood and most bullied her because of her height as she has always been very short and it was even worse at that age, she only had a significant growth development after the age of 12. Don't get me wrong though, she'd kick their asses back as well, she was constantly getting herself into trouble because of her "special" temperament. LMAO

She had a very hard time interacting with the other trainees for the first time and Jean was the first one who initiated a conversation with her and consequently made her feel more comfortable around everyone. The ironic part is that once she feels comfortable she won't stop talking. :'D

Nowadays I'd say she feels way more at ease when it comes to initiating conversations and friendships even though she got way more cautious after Reiner's reveal, she won't trust people easily again.

"🎲 5. Which does your character prioritize more, work or hobbies?"

This is also something that changes throughout her journey. As you can read on her reference sheet, at first she joined the training corps with very selfish intentions and mindset, she wouldn't take anything seriously and would easily prioritize hobbies over work, considering her kind of job, this is not something she'd admit to proudly nowadays.

Her big "wake-up call" was Marco's death, that was when everything sink in for her and she realized how serious the work she volunteered for was and what was at stake, she finally truly dedicated her heart that day, she'd do her best to protect humanity from that moment on, there was no time for hobbies and selfish choices when so many lives were being lost, including people she cared about.

For Tirannia

"🤝 9. Where is your character's comfort place?"

Honestly? Anywhere in the middle of the sea. Crazy, I know, but my girl loves her sea and finds lots of comfort in it. The serenity of such loneliness, the call of the sea and it's tides, these bring her such tranquillity.

"💓 18. How often does your character have nightmares?"

I'd say that 99% of her dreams are nightmares, mostly because of her trauma but she doesn't dream that much. The man who once owned her haunts her dreams quite often, a common dream that she used to have back when she was still stuck there was about her seducing him and slowly luring him into the sea, drowning him, suddenly, a baby cry would be heard and scared she'd pull him out of the water but it wasn't him anymore, she pulls a baby out of the water instead, not what happened years later but the sea was always there, maybe it was some kind of premonition, who knows. :P

Aaand that's all! Thank you so much once again, I really appreciate the kindness. ♥

[oklotea]

Tfw you're a forty year old man who's just trying his best and constantly never rewarded for it

Introducing... WEST

A 47 year old turf battle veteran with a heart of gold who joined the Underground Anarchy scene a few years ago because he needed a faster change of pace.

West is a much more level-headed and responsible figure compared to most UA players, he always keeps his cool against annoying players who purposely try to get on his nerves, and always make sure to let them know he won’t let them step all over him.

He's the kind of guy to stop fights, whether by peaceful or violent means.

Most people only know him inside UA. There's very little known about him on the outside. That makes him a bit intimidating from a regular bystander.

Some people will say he's really skilled! and look up to him.

Other people might say they hate his cool-headedness and that he's just a stick in the mud old man who doesn't know his place.

He's a pretty reliable teammate, frequently filling in the support role who paints turf and splats opponents from perches. But in any situation he's quite adaptable.

Under the cut is more information about West! If you decide to stop reading here that’s cool! Thanks for reading!

I’m quite sure i’ll be making more posts about West because i love him so much and there’s still a lot of things you dont know about him!

He belongs in the Underground Anarchy AU by @d15gu571ng !

cya later!!!!! :D

West was a pretty anxious kid, he started to participate in turf battles when he was 15, a year later than most squid kids because he wasn’t too sure of himself yet.

He fell in love with turf battling. It was a hobby he participated in as a way to escape his problems at home, and slowly but surely strengthen his confidence in himself.

He also got freakishly amazing at it, he was good at a lot of weapons but his main has always been his 96. Gal.

His favorite modes are rainmaker and splat zones.

Things were going great for West. He wanted to do this forever, it's what he loved to do, but good things don't last forever, that proved itself when West started to grow up past high school and people started to expect him to drop his enjoyment for turf war. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and it was time to face the real world like most adults in the city.

He fought back against this idea for a moment but he easily gave up, sadly. Just, the crushing reality was too painstakingly obvious. It was either do what he loved or... Be a disappointment.

AND NO! He couldn’t balance his hobby with his job! NO TURF WARS for ADULTS! What a childish idea!

So for 4 long, long years, he dedicated his life to learning how to become a pilot! It wasn’t as horrible as West expected! West has liked the idea of being a pilot for a while now and now he’s following that dream!

Eventually, turf wars were just a faded memory in the back of West’s mind. There were more important things to worry about, and thats okay!

West worked as a airline pilot for 9 years! During this time he made multiple friends, valuable life experiences, and! his husband (Beck) and wife (Tori) have conceived a daughter for the three of them! (Vida)

After their kid was born, West wanted to be a good dad, but because of his job, he unfortunately became a bit distant from his only daughter. I’ll make another post about West’s family.

After being a pilot for nearly 10 years, West decided to take a break from piloting because he felt extremely burnt out and far from his family. So he went home and now, he’s currently a stay-at-home dad! He’s reconnecting with his daughter (who’s 22 now) to make up for all the lost time between them. While Tori and Beck are the breadwinners for the family.

This was around the time West was finally given the opportunity to fully reminisce of his younger years (yeah he finally realizes how freakin old he is....He tries his best to cope) when he participated in turf wars throughout middle school and high school. And one random day, he invites one of his old aircrew friends, whom he knew once played turf war, to play rainmaker! On that day, West’s love for turf war which he thought had been dead for years, was lit back up.

It wasn’t a while until West realised that ordinary turf war, just couldn’t cut it for him anymore. He was constantly over-powering younger casual players, that he felt a bit bad. He was well-known locally as the weird old guy who is freakishly good at turf war, it’s annoying! Doesn’t he have somewhere else to be?

Yeah he got treated the same way he was treated all the way back then after high school. Bullied by children this time. It might not seem like it but this constant torment really gets to West sometimes. It’s a good thing he has his family to lean on for support.

He couldn’t take this treatment over and over again. If this continued he would jump off a cliff. He had to do something for himself. This was when he asked his daughter for a favor. Vida wasn’t a turf war enthusiast, but! She had a lot of young people friends who would know something about turf war he didn’t. He needed an entirely different turf scene. One where he might be accepted.

To be honest, West was expecting something like- a club of middle-aged turf war enthusiasts or- a splatoon that consists of some guys who wouldn’t judge him for being older. SOMETHING NORMAL.

VIDA’S WEIRD FRIENDS GOT HIM  INTO AN ILLEGAL TURF WAR RING.

He was a bit reluctant at first but decided, hey, he's even more intrigued than scared! He followed them to the area of the UA battle that evening and didn't know what to expect.

It proved that he was SEVERELY UNPREPARED. It was a big shock how elaborately modified most of the players' weapons were. How much more ruthless and unapologetic they were. But that was what West found so appealing. He just had one of the most adrenaline-fueled quick paced turf battles in his life. He wanted more of that.

Around a decade later, West has officially retired from being a pilot and is now a full-time househusband. He spends most of his days spending time with his friends and family, taking care of himself, working on random projects in his garage, just all-around enjoying himself, and battling it out in illegal underground turf war rings!

It was an up-hill battle but he eventually found his footing in this chaotic place. He’s way more confident and free-spirited than he’s ever been in his life, and couldn’t ask for anything different. Of course, there’s always going to be annoying people who won’t leave him alone til’ he leaves, but he can always get along in his life by ignoring them and confiding in his family.

He still has some personal insecurities but for now, he’s pretty content with where his life is.

THANK YOUUU!!!!!!!! HAVE GOOD MORNING/AFTERNOON/EVENING!!!!!!! SILLIES!!!!!

<3

[misspearly1]

For your anniversary asks (a huge gz on that again, by the way 💜), I knew I had to send one in when I saw Zach Wellison was an option 😍

So Zach Wellison with fluff prompt: sweat dripping down your faces, newly moved in furniture scattered around the half empty, small house and smut prompt: You're so beautiful...so,so beautiful...

Thank you ♥️

Lily! Thank you so much for sending this into my blog. I've really enjoyed the balance of smut and fluff in this request. Zach is such a sweetheart, and I've especially enjoyed writing something for him considering it's been such a while since I have. Thank you, my dearest and I hope you enjoy the read. ily ❤️🥰

My inbox is still open for the Requests with Supplied Prompts. Even if you've already sent one in, I don't oppose to more. I'm loving all the requests I'm received so far! 🥰

New Beginnings

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI! Established Relationship. Helping Zach move into his first home. Mentions of PTSD. Brief mentions of an attack (in the show when he attacked in the park). Smut. Foreplay, both F and M receiving. Oral. (F receiving). Hair Grabbing. Nipple Play. Unprotected PIV Sex. Lots of Fluff.

AN: Also, please let me know if you're experiencing any difficult viewing this post with the colour of the text. I've tried all the temporary fixes I have found that solves the issues, but just in case they don't work, I apologise in advance.

Prompts: sweat dripping down your faces, newly moved in furniture scattered around the half empty, small house // "You're so beautiful...so,so beautiful..."

-

It doesn’t matter when Zach Wellison was able to get his life back in order, it’s how he got his life back in order that matters most in your eyes. 

The man fought tooth and nail to reach this point in his life, which is moving house with his name on the lease, savings in the bank and a stable job. Unfortunately, the life that he faced when leaving the Marines Corps was a difficult one, and frankly, it’s a common problem that so many other decorated soldiers also endure. 

There was no home for Zach when he came back to the United States, he lived out of a duffle bag for a whole year, taking up residence in Vista Hermosa Park frequently just to grab a night's rest where it was reasonably safe, but even so, it still wasn’t completely safe, nor was it easy. He suffered from many restless nights living in fear or shivering with the cold. 

And one day, his reasons to be fearful became a reality when someone attacked him, leaving a wound on his head that needed stitches, however it was from there that his life began to change for the better. The kindness of a good Samaritan named Justin Walker that took pity on Zach and offered him a place to stay, a job working for his brother-in-law and most importantly, a friend that he could trust. 

Three and a half years later, Zach and Justin are still friends, and they spend their Saturday night's meeting up at a bar for a few social drinks and a chat. It’s been a tough journey, but Zach made it. He finally made it to where he feels safe and secure. The days of living out of his duffel bag are behind him and the life he’s building lies ahead of him. 

And that life includes you at his side. 

You met Zach exactly three years ago when he became the building manager of your apartment block. He moved down the hall from you and it was a love at first sight kind of feeling you had when you looked in the man's eyes. Ever since then, you’ve felt lucky and honoured to accompany such a hardworking man like himself along the way, bringing you both to this important milestone in your relationship. 

Although it has been a rocky road, it took a lot of time and patience on your behalf to reach this point with Zach. The nightmares, the anger problems, the darkness shrouding his mind with the memories of war and the symptoms of PTSD still remain, but they’re more manageable now. He manages them better. Having a structured life with routine and order helps him adjust, your attentive care and support helps ease some of the psychological pain he suffers with, and the achievement of moving into his own apartment empowers him to keep on living the life he deserves. 

Every day, little by little, Zach gets better in every aspect. You see him smiling more, see the twinkle of ambition returning to his eyes and the confidence restoring within. He has always been a good man with a good heart, but lately you have noticed that the good man inside isn’t buried deeply as much as it was three years ago. It’s as if he’s getting back to the way he used to be, but much better.

You look at him now with admiration, watching his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps his bottle of water with exhaustion pouring out of his skin. Running up and down the stairs multiple times is the cause and the guy needed a quick break when joining you in the living room to replenish his energy. Though, you’re looking at him like he’s a piece of meat right now. 

It’s allowed considering you’re his girl and all, but it’s surprising how much you’re blushing from the way he looks. The beads of sweat roll down his face and body, creating a radiant sheen across his exposed skin that just highlights all of his handsome features. You watch the droplets dripping off the tip of his nose before he sighs in frustration and uses his shirt to wipe his face. 

Your lips turn upwards with a smile as your eyes drop instantly to admire the wide expanse of his chest and the little trail of hair leading into his sweatpants. The weight of belongings kept in the pockets of his pants weighed them down, thus displaying his sexy v-lines. Not only does Zach look so fucking good in a simple pair of sweatpants but wearing sweatpants while the sweat runs down his chest is something else entirely. 

It’s fuelling your sexual desire to tear the clothes from his body and make love to him right here on the living room floor. Even though the house is in disarray right now, the furniture is lying around where it shouldn’t be, you don’t care for the comfort of a bed or sofa to lay on, you only care for the sexy noises he makes for you when pleasuring him. The hunger in your eyes grows more feral the more you look at him. 

Meanwhile, Zach drenches his shirt and lifts the item of clothing over his head, leaving his top half completely nude for those hungry lustful eyes of yours to roam freely. Immersed with the filthy thoughts swimming around your head, you didn’t even notice the man looking at you and quite clearly seeing that you’re in a sexual daydream. He caught you red handed, and it was only the act of groping a firm handful of his bulge that tore you out of your daydreaming. 

You look up and see his flattered expression, the smile on his lips growing bigger as his cheeks burn red from the way you were just looking at him. Zach’s confidence isn’t nearly as high as it should be, but it’s growing, just like the tent in his sweatpants. “You're so beautiful,” You say with a shake of your head, as if you couldn’t believe just how lucky you are to be his girl. Moving towards him, you cup his cheeks and brush your thumb across his patchy beard. “...So, so beautiful…”  You whisper before leaning in to close the gap. 

The man kisses you delicately, his full, luscious pouty lips moving against yours with such grace that you moaned and tilted your head to the side with request to deepen the kiss. Which he responded by cupping your cheek too and slipping his tongue past your lips, twirling the muscle around with yours. Zach now groans as he wraps his arm around your back to pull you in, the heat of your core so dangerously close to the hardness in his pants. You can feel the firm prod of his length pressing into your lower stomach. 

“Baby,” He moans for you, so soft and sweet, a moan that carries a plea for more. You hear him loud and clear, and act on it immediately by gently pulling him backwards to the middle of the living room floor. As you both kneel down together, your shirt is the first to go, along with your bra, and the bare contact of your breasts pressed against him is sensational. Your nipples graze across his taut chest, hardening with sensitivity and a wish to be caressed by him. As soon as he feels the stiffness of your nipples pressing his skin, he breaks from the kiss and ducks his head swiftly, wrapping his lips around one of them. 

“Shit!...”  You cry. Throwing your head back and relishing in the sounds he makes, it was a mixture of satisfaction and neediness, the noise flooding your cunt with desire. It pools in your panties, dampening the fabric, you can feel it, and the subtle movements of his hips seeking your touch brings you back into focus. “Zach,” You call his name, your fingers threading through his hair with a careful tug. He releases your nipple with the softest audible pop and lifts his head to look at you, the drunken expression to his face perceivable. 

The man held your face with both hands, peppering your lips with kisses as you slipped your fingers inside the waistband of his sweatpants. The smallest amount of contact you’ve given thus far makes his stomach tense and jerk into you, desperately searching for more. You hold his eye contact while pulling his pants down, admiring the way his face tightens with exposure from the cool air hitting his cock. A ripple of goosebumps dashes up his spine, dimpling his skin with a shuddering exhale slipping past his lips. He breaks your eye contact to look down, his brows rising with surprise at the sight of himself. You look too, your eyebrows raising with surprise also. 

“Oh, Zachary,” You bite your bottom lip with a tease in your tone, “You’ve made a mess of yourself, baby.” You reach out to drag the pad of your thumb across the tip of him, smearing the remnants of his seed around, eliciting a few more beads to leak out onto your finger. He came. Somewhere between the first kiss to this point now, he came for you from such little contact, and you love it. You love the neediness he exudes, it’s noticeable in the way he breathes, and the way he leans into the palm of your hand, welcoming your touch eagerly. 

You multitask by kissing his lips and stroking his cock, drawing out the prettiest of sounds from his lips while he drops his hands to your jeans. The item of clothing was only pulled down halfway effortlessly by his nimble movements before feeling his deft fingers dragging across your lower stomach that makes you stutter and gasp. Zach takes the moment of your distraction and leans in to place his lips to your neck, sucking softly as he slides two fingers through your folds. Your slick coats his hand, granting him easier access to breach your walls with both fingers slipping inside. 

“Holy fuck,” You mewl and buck into him. His free hand drops to the base of your spine, keeping you close as he buries his fingers deeper and bends them to caress your g-spot. He now enjoys all the pretty little sounds you make, fingering your cunt with skill to draw them out of you. The reactions you give makes his confidence grow, therefore allowing him to take the lead without fear of letting you down. He never does let you down, not inside or outside the act of making love. 

Pulling his hand away, you moan from the loss, and he eases the ache in your core by urging you to lay down. Your pants were discarded quickly before he returned to pleasure you, this time using his tongue instead of his hands. It was as if he needed to taste you, the man was determined and spread your legs to delve into your cunt, his tongue sliding through your folds to capture your clit in his mouth. “Zach!” You gasp from the contact, feeling the hypersensitivity of his actions. He teased you a little by licking up and down, drinking your desire before taking your clit back inside his mouth with the dirtiest grunt he could produce. 

Zach loves to make you climax with only his tongue. It makes him feel proud of his own abilities, makes him feel like the best lover you’ve ever had. Your praising whimpers tell him as much as he brings you to the brink of an orgasm. “Yes. Just like that, keep going,” You say, brows knitting together with bliss. “Shit, I’m gonna cum already,” You whine, and he looks up to admire your face, to adore the way your cheeks are pink from his actions and the way your eyes are hazed over with lust, threatening to close any second now with ecstasy.

The vibrations of his voice humming into your pussy sends you over the edge with a cry of his name, your hands dropping down to his hair to hold on for leverage, holding onto him like he was your lifeline, stopping you from floating off to cloud nine. You rode out the waves of your pleasure, the peak of your orgasms prolonged even further as he continued to flick his tongue against your clit. The throaty mewls erupting from you tells the man your approaching over-stimulation and he pulls away, granting you mercy. 

“Love when you grab my hair like that, baby.” He growls when moving up your body, to which you feel humorous and retort, “It’s a wonder how you’re not missing any,” You laugh and shake your head. “I pull too hard sometimes.” Zach smiles, agreeing and disagreeing with that statement. “Yeah, maybe, you’re right, but I love when you pull hard, gorgeous. Don’t I sometimes leave little bruises on your hips?” He asks, and you nod with understanding, seeing his point. 

Laughing softly together, you pull him in and press your lips against his, humming with delight over the taste of your own cunt. It’s obvious why he likes giving oral so damn much when you taste sweet. Muffled whines could be heard as he slots himself between your legs, the direct contact of his cock slipping between your folds making you wrap your legs around his back and lock your ankles together. Zach grinds into you, using the action to lube himself up before notching at your entrance. 

You break from the kiss to press your forehead against his, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes and mirroring his loving expression as he gently eases inside. “Nghh,” He moans brokenly, choking out stuttered breaths of satisfaction until buried to the hilt deep inside. You squeeze and pulse around him, savouring the sensation of feeling so full of his cock. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispers, to which you reply. “I love you too, Zach.” 

Making love to each other on the living room floor of his home, furniture and boxes laying around in places where it shouldn’t be, you each were thankful for putting the blinds up on the windows this morning otherwise the neighbours would have seen everything, however they most definitely heard you crying joyous tears later in the evening when Zach handed you a key. 

The offer to move in with him.

-

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[kyndaris]

Powers of the Dead

After a pointy-haired attorney made his mark on history, a slicked back blond hair man in a red suit, and wearing a pair of funky sunglasses, took centre stage. First released on the Nintendo DS, it wasn't until the game saw a release on the Switch that I bought it and gave it a bit of a whirl. And my, what a journey it was! From a dancing desk lamp called Ray to a meteorite fragment that can give untold powers who die within its aura, Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective was a marvel.

True, it might have been a commercial failure but it has since amassed a cult following.

And, more importantly, it was designed and directed by the great Shu Takumi. The mastermind behind the Ace Attorney series. And known for giving us such memorable characters like Missile the Dog, Will Powers and Lotta Hart. In Ghost Trick, we encounter a similar roster, from Inspector Cabanela to Guardian of the Park, and Emma (the wife of the Justice Minister).

Ghost Trick begins with the death of your character. Although, the how and the why remain a mystery. Worse, you don't even know who you are. Only that you were killed. Fortunately, a fellow spirit, possessing a desk lamp, is able to provide some guidance into what it means to be dead. As well as the associated powers derived from it. The so called 'ghost tricks' for which the game is named.

Armed with this knowledge, the player character saves the life of a young detective named Lynne by going back in time to four minutes before her death. When Detective Lynne picks up the junkyard phone following the change to her fate, the player character travels down through the telephone lines into a luxurious room where two men, with a shade of blue to their skin, discuss the botched assassination job for Lynne. Before then, revealing the player character's name: Sissel.

Despite now knowing their name, Sissel still hasn't quite regained their memory. Desperate to figure out why he was killed and who he was in life, Sissel decides to work in tandem with Lynne. Along the way, he saves her from death multiple times and encounters several other characters including Missile the Dog, Kamila and Detective Jowd.

Soon, he is able to piece together the disparate connections between the people he encounters, such as Detective Jowd taking the fall for the death of his wife: Alma. As well as the case Lynne was investigating the night she turned up at the junkyard to supposedly question Sissel.

But what might have been a simple mystery later turns out to be remarkably complex revenge plot from a person known only as 'The Manipulator.' And in Chapter 15, after springing Detective Jowd from prison and then saving the lives of both the Pidgeon Man Superintendent and Inspector Cabanela, Sissel learns the dead body he thought was his actually belonged to the main villain pulling the strings: Yomiel.

Ten years ago, Yomiel was struck from behind by a meteorite and killed. The radiation from the meteorite, however, would give him powers to manipulate living bodies. Additionally, it meant his body could not die - forever regenerating to the moment before his actual death.

Unfortunately for Yomiel, he wasn't quite able to master his powers initially. Coupled with the initial amnesia that comes from being dead, he was not able to initially possess his own corpse. When he finally was able to return to it, and those he loved, he loses the love of his life. All because he was falsely suspected for leaking national secrets.

With no future ahead for him, but unable to die, Yomiel soon hatches a plan to sell the secret behind his powers for the promise of a life he can live in a foreign nation. However, it isn't long before Yomiel is betrayed by those very same allies near the very end of the game, leading to one last time jump from Sissel.

Though the plot was a wild rollercoaster (considering all of it was in the span of a single night), I enjoyed my time with Ghost Trick. Much of it was derived from the range of kooky characters Sissel encountered on his quest to regain his memory. But I also liked how much Sissel's own motivations mirrored my own as I, too, was curious to figure out who he was and what his story might have been.

But what stuck out to me was how much the story was aided by the help of the gameplay. Especially with Sissel's ability to manipulate objects around him - almost like a poltergeist would. While I did find it occasionally limiting (due to the restriction of Sissel's reach and forced only into 'cores'), the puzzles were a unique aspect to the game. After all, it's not every day that I have to try experimenting with unconventional objects around me to save the life of another. For example, knocking down a donut and then hitting it with a door in order for a dog to chase it under the sofa.

The swapping, too, of objects with similar shapes also came in handy in the last few stages although I felt those puzzles were a little more obtuse (but perhaps it was more me trying to understand the timing for when I would need to actually possess another object in order to reach the core I wanted to manipulate).

In any case, I am mightily ashamed I slept on this game when it first came out back in 2011. However, given I was still only in university and didn't actually have a job, I suppose I can forgive myself for overlooking it. For now.

Still, while I would love for many of these games to have actual voice acting, I still love putting on the voices for the various characters. Although, I must admit, it can be hard to find the exact one I'm hoping for as there isn't much context on what their accent ought to be. Or how old they are until much later in the dialogue (looking at you, Ray!)

I must say, my Cabanela had a strange southern accent whereas Missile was an excitable high-pitch impression of what a Pomeranian would sound like. And don't even get me started on my stoner surfer dude for Guardian of the Park.

Whether or not these are the correct voices for the characters, I don't know. But I must say I had fun doing them. If only for my own entertainment.

More than all of that, though, I liked all the subtle hints to Sissel's true identity. Including his inability to read and the fact he didn't recognise a slew of common things most humans would know. Even if they had amnesia.

So, dear reader, if you are looking for a game that's a little bit different from the norm, look no further to Ghost Trick, which will see you jumping across telephone lines and helping out a range of various characters in different forms of distress. The story is a wild ride, but at least it's well plotted and makes narrative sense. Unlike Scarlet Nexus or the current book (as of time of writing) that I'm reading for book club: Year of the Locust.

Besides, who doesn't love a dancing twerking desk lamp?

[vv-ispy]

diluc for the ask game?

How I feel about this character: He's interesting but unfortunately I feel like that's all I can really say about him at first glance. Wait no actually I love his little baby face sldkfhd his big -_- eyes. It looks so dumb on him, like he still has a 14 year old's face, like he hasn't grown out of being a teen except being bigger and taller. And in a sense I feel like he hasn't? I like that contrary to his present-day "Oh what a handsome, rich, independent, distinguished gentleman!" perception, he was such a father's boy as a kid — the best praise he could recieve despite being the youngest cavalry captain who everyone in the knights recognized and respected was his dad telling him 'good job'. So of course when his dad died and Kaeya came out as a spy that shattered his whole world and I feel like he...never truly moved on? Kaeya says he's no fun now, and flashbacks of him in the manga he looked like a sweet and pleasent teen, but now he never smiles and never talks to Kaeya except with a cold shoulder, although he's still got this respect for Jean. But what I mean it it feels like between his leaving of the knights and present day, aside from growing into his role as head of the Dawn Winery and resolve to protect Mondstadt from the shadows (which. tbh also stemed from That Moment), nothing else has changed him so fundementally as that day his dad died and his brother was revealed as a spy. That was the moment he grew up and became Diluc. He was still a kid when he grew up.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: The occational Venti/Diluc — I love the idea of this guy having to throw a god out of his manor and tavern on the regular. Like he has all the moral indulgences the god could want, the best wine for a wine-loving man, but nope. Get out of here Venti if you only have enough mora for one bottle then you only get One Bottle no freebies for the god. Otherwise, I have a very hard time imagining this guy in a serious romantic relationship, he's too much of an outsider in his own city

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Is it an OTP if I like them broken up? Kaeya and Diluc except they continue refusing to understand each other. I don't even want them to have a Big Talk I want them to have a life defining fight again Jean and Diluc. That moment where Jean talks about finding her pet turtle as a kid, and Paimon goes "Jean had a pet turtle???" and Diluc goes "I fail to see what's weird about that. I had a pet turtle as a kid too" lkshdflksdhf amazing. Also something about they had a turtle wedding? Love it. I want to see little Jean and Diluc dressing up and racing turtles together. Adorable. And on a deeper sense, the fact he still shows respect to her, I like that it points to a more complicated relationship with the KoF than just 'they're useless idiots' Diluc and Lisa. I think they had an interaction in the manga? Love the way Lisa's 'laissez fait oh it is tea-time, the work can be done later' attitude bounces off 'no fun allowed' serious Diluc. They should be put together on a task together more.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Ahhh honestly, the way he likes traveller, I just think he has more interesting relationships with pretty much every other Mondstadt character...but that might just be the writing of the Diluc story quest. And ye I know it's to show he's learning to accept help as opposed to working alone, and fair a Complete Outsider who he has no personal connections with, no stakes associated with, would be the first/easiest person for him to start opening up to, but I reject it. I want him to stay a locked safe of a man until he faces things greater than himself which force him to face his past again. No baby steps of opening up allowed for this man.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: What's going on between him and Jean?

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 052 - The Hunt Begins

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 3 Episode 1 - The Xindi

The season opens with a council of unknown aliens, discussing the Enterprise approaching. There are a few species here, so I can't say which ones are the Xindi. And these are some of the most alien aliens that I've seen from Trek so far. We've go an insect dude, a couple mermaid things. They've clearly upped the alien effects budget this season. Nice! Also, a bit upset they've changed the theme slightly, this remix isn't having the same effect on me.

Seeing Hoshi interact with the new military team aboard Enterprise was fun, and I love the friction between them and Enterprise's security team, with neither party trusting each other to do the Job right.

Phlox breaking down the DNA of the Xindi corpse so we can find out more about the species was great. With a bit more DNA from another sample, we find out that the Xindi are multiple closely related species. Also, apparently, Trip is still grieving his sister, and is having trouble sleeping, so Phlox has asked T'Pol to help him out with some Vulcan Techniques.

Our main goal in this episode, is to pick up a Xindi from a mining Planet, and get co-ordinates to the Xindi homeworld. Specifically, from a slaver who deals in liquid platinum. We don't find out much about the slaver, but he is beautifully intimidating. Unfortunately, he dies in the escape, but as he died, he did manage to give co-ordinates to Phlox. The co-ordinates are however, a trap. A huge Debris field. A Debris field that used to be a planet 150 years ago.

Interestingly, this episode's plot finishes up with about 10 minutes of runtime left, leaving us to have some down-time scenes, specifically the aforementioned Vulcan Technique scene with Trip and T'Pol.

I'm a bit disappointed that the extent of Weird Unnatural physic's stuff we've seen so far is some weird gravity in the cargo bay, but hopefully they'll show something wilder sooner than later. I'm not expecting them to go full Doctor Who: Zagreus, but the set up of this region of space is too good to waste.

The cinematography on this one is great, there is a lot of interesting camera work, and some really good moving shots. On a technical level, this season is looking to be a really good step up. I enjoyed myself here.