#she is also very much not a self insert obviously

[kakusu-shipping]

I absolutely adore your ruby gloom s/i and her entire gender shes so cute oh my god tell me about them PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE I know you already said it was inspiration but she reminds me SO much of the mummy girl from The scooby doo ghoul school and i LOVED THAT MOVIE SO MUCH AS A KID i just gotta know all about this s/i off design alone

She is like a PEAK little girl gender to me, it's what younger me would have wanted.

Now I don't know if you've actually SEEN Ruby Gloom but it is THE Baby Goth/Emo/Scene show. As in it is a show about and for Baby Goth, Emo, and Scene kids. There are hijinks and shenanigans and mild dark humor and usually no moral at the end of the episode.

She's a mummy, probably. The show is about like Monster Kids but what they are and where they come from never comes up. There is no plot, just kids being friends.

I imagine she can't talk with all the bandaging, and this show isn't the type to bust out actual sign language, so she just mimes and charades her way through conversations, like Doom Kitty. And like Doom, it has varying results. Skull Boy and Ruby can usually figure her out and Misery has a knack for charades and basically always knows what she's saying, but Iris can basically never figure it out, and Frank and Len and Poe all just Assume they know until someone else corrects them.

Sense she can't talk, and her bandages cushion her steps, she tends to accidentally sneak up on people and startle them, mostly Scardy Bat. There's an episode in my head where she keeps startling him, so he puts a bell on her so he can hear when she's coming.. and then she drops the bell somewhere and doesn't notice until it's completely unraveled her, and no one recognizes her unwrapped, so her and Scardy Bat have to backtrack the entire mansion together, avoiding getting seen by anyone else, to find where her bandage trail starts to rewrap her.

She's a lot stronger than most anyone else in the mansion, and can pick up and carry pretty much everyone with ease. Sense Skull Boy's commonly precariously up high and Iris is always seeking wild thrills, this strength is mostly used in catching those two specifically when they fall, though sometimes Poe ropes her into doing hard work for him.

I self ship with Skull Boy with her but they're probably not actually dating in current canon. He, She, and Ruby are in this Love Triangle situation where they all three have a crush on one another, and they're also all like 8-10 so navigating romantic feelings is really hard. So they're all still friends, and will probably stay that way till they're all a bit older.

[wannab-urs]

You’re So Dark

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x Grad Student!f!Reader

Summary: There’s only one thing you really want out of this conference – your research adviser, Dave York. 

Warnings: smut, professor/student relationship, reader is a brat, this is very close to a self insert fic so she’s also a cocky little asshole, power dynamics, age gap (Dave is in his late 40s, reader is at least 21 but not specified), Dave is conflicted, that’s why he’s such a dickhead, Divorced!Dave, drinking but no one is all that intoxicated, unprotected PIV (but he has a vasectomy and reader is on BC), creampie, oral f!receiving, lots of arguing, no use of y/n. WC: 2.4k

A/N: Based on a true story. Just had this idea out of nowhere, don’t look at me. Thanks to @pedgito for the beta <3

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi | Playlist

You knock on his door, wearing nothing but a skimpy tank top and shorts. The conference doesn’t start for a while, so you put on comfy clothes following the long car ride. That’s not your only motivation, though, for showing up at his hotel room in barely anything. 

The hotel is nice, nice enough that you feel underdressed in the hallway. You’re set to present your paper on John Donne today at 2. Your research adviser Dr. York – Dave – had picked you up at your apartment at 5 this morning to drive you both to the conference. He’s presenting his latest paper. Something about journals kept by British people during World War II. 

You shift your weight from foot to foot waiting for him to answer the door. Finally, you hear the chain drop and the door opens. He eyes you up and down, one eyebrow quirked, before turning around and walking back into the room. 

“Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s already settling back into the shitty desk chair by the window. You look down at your outfit and then back up to glare at the back of his head. 

“Yeah. Obviously.” You lay back on his bed and stretch your back, sore from the 5 hour car ride. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Working.” 

You roll onto your stomach and look at him. The mid morning light casts a glare over his screen, but only serves to highlight his features. You hate how pretty he is, how much you want him.

“Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s wearing navy dress pants and a tight white t-shirt that is definitely a size too small. 

“I have a dress shirt.” He seems irritated today. Shoulders tense, sentences clipped. You wonder if it’s you that has him all worked up. 

You slide off the bed into the floor and go through some simple yoga poses. Your back is really messed up from that car ride. You sit on your knees and walk your hands forward as far as they’ll go, dropping your head to the floor. You sigh as you sink into child’s pose, feeling the stretch in your sore hips and back. “What are you working on?” You ask, voice muffled by the carpet. 

“Will you shut up?” You snap your head up to look at him. He’s fucking tetchy today… and he hasn’t looked over at you once, as far as you can tell. 

“Make me.”

“When have I ever been able to make you do anything?” 

You sit back on your heels and tilt your head to the side. He’s almost shaking, he’s so tense. You’ve never seen him like this. “You never ask nicely.”

He wordlessly scoots his chair back and spreads his legs, still typing away on his laptop. You crawl over and settle yourself between his legs. He still doesn’t look at you.

“What do you want, Dave?” 

“For you to stop talking.”

“Is that all you want?”

“No.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

You lean in and drag your lips over the bulge in his slacks, hear the sharp snatch of breath, the clack of keys as his hands hit them all at once. 

You’re not going to do it until he tells you to and he isn’t going to ask. It’s a standoff. He thinks he has to let you make the first move. Does this not count as a first move? You in such a supplicant pose, gazing up at him from between his thighs. 

“You should go get dressed. We have to leave soon.” Quiet, strained, so unlike his usually smooth and confident cadence, and still not meeting your eyes. He rolls the chair back so you have room to scoot out. 

Your cheeks sting with rejection, but you know he wants you as bad as you want him. He’s just afraid of the consequences. You slip out from under his desk and retreat to your room to get changed. 

–-

The conference goes as smoothly as it can – it was your first ever presentation at something like this, and you definitely got tripped up on some of the questions the audience asked you. Afterward, Dave drags you outside to a group of people. He introduces you to Will, Laurie, Anna, and Doug. They’re colleagues, friends, that he often meets up with at conferences. 

“Wanna come with us to get drinks?” Anna asks. 

“Sure!” you agree before Dave can turn them down. He scowls at you, but turns a megawatt smile on when he looks back to Anna. 

“Sounds good,” he says through his teeth. 

Dave gossips in your ear all night, filling you in on each of his friends. Will and Laurie are both supposedly polyamorous and only hook up with each other at conferences, but Dave knows Will’s wife has no idea. Anna is in trouble with her school for a presentation she did last year, and she had to have today’s presentation reviewed by her department chair before she could present. Doug has a thing for Anna, but she’s married. 

The gossip is a good holdover, but you’re antsy the whole time. You sip vodka sodas slowly while your mind whirs with the possibilities of tonight. Dave drinks whiskey on the rocks, jokes with his friends when he’s not whispering in your ear. 

You and Dave go out to smoke, leaving everyone else in the bar. You split an American Spirit with him. 

“If you only smoke when you drink, why do you have a near empty pack of expensive cigarettes?” 

“I drink every night.” 

“God you’re pathetic.” 

“Not as pathetic as the grad student with a thing for her professor.” 

“Fuck you. You’re not my professor.” 

“Oh, so you do have a thing for me?”

You’d thought that was obvious from your earlier attempt to blow him.

 “You know what’s actually pathetic, Dave? The professor who wants to fuck his student.” 

“You’re not my student.”

 “Oh, so you do want to fuck me?” 

He puts out the cigarette in the ashtray and stalks off inside. 

By the end of the night, you regret agreeing to go out, desperate to get back to the hotel and get Dave alone. This may be your only shot at getting what you want from him and you can’t waste it. You say goodnight to everyone, tell them how nice it was to meet them all, and head out, Dave close behind you. You think you catch Laurie giving him a knowing look, but you can’t be certain. 

You walk back to the hotel, your arm brushing his. Out of nowhere, Dave chuckles and pushes his shoulder into you. 

“What? What’s funny?”

“Nothing. I like that you step on the sewer grates.”

“What?”

“The drainage grates. My ex wife was terrified of them. She’d rather walk in the street than step on one. You don’t even hesitate.”

“Oh.”

“I just mean– I don’t know what I mean. You’re brave.”

“Thanks,” you say earnestly, looking into his eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” He averts his gaze, looks back down at the ground. You think he might be blushing. 

You get to the hotel and the lady at the desk gives you and Dave a strange look. An “I know what this is and I don’t like it” look. You roll your eyes and stalk over to the elevators, punching the button with more force than necessary. You didn’t think it was that obvious, the dance you two were doing around each other. 

The ride up to the tenth floor is tense. Dave doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. When you get up to where you’re supposed to split off, he asks if you want to come to his room for a drink. You say yes and follow him to his room. Now the nerves really kick in. It’s fine, you’re fine. You wonder if he’s gonna reject you again. It would be cruel after inviting you to his room, but he’s never really been kind. 

When you get into his room you sit on the bed and take off your dress shoes, your coat, and the blazer you’ve been wearing all day. He pours himself a bourbon from the minibar and offers you one. You take the cup in your hand, sipping the liquor and feeling heat trail down your throat. He knocks his back in one shot and stands in front of you at the bed.

You stand up, putting you inches from his body. You cover his bulge with your hand, squeezing lightly and nip your teeth at his throat. “Do you want to fuck me, Dave?” 

He shoves you backward with a growl and you fall on the bed. He tugs your trousers off and lowers himself between your legs. He licks you over your panties, feeling how wet you already are. He hooks his fingers into the gusset of your panties, knuckles brushing your entrance. 

“Oh you’re soaked for me, baby girl.” 

“Don’t call me that. Ew. God. Ew.”

“Fine. Brat.” Dave tugs your panties down and tosses them on the floor. He pushes your thighs apart and settles your legs over his shoulders. He covers your cunt with his mouth and flicks his tongue against your clit. You let out a moan and bury your fingers in his short hair. He flattens his tongue against you and you ride his face, grinding his aquiline nose into your mound as you move against him. 

He brings a hand up to press your stomach down, holding you still while he slips two fingers of his other hand inside you. You keen loudly at the stretch, squirming as he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

You’re so wet you can hear the wet squelch of your pussy around his fingers. He crooks them upward and you buck your hips hard enough to break the hold he has on you. 

“F-Fuck, Dave. Please,” you whine. 

“So polite when you finally get what you want,” he mutters into your cunt. 

He’s making you feel so fucking good, you’d let him say anything right now. He strokes your sweet spot almost methodically, like he’s had a lifetime of practice that led him here, making you whine and moan and squirm pathetically on just two of his fingers. Your grip tightens on his hair as you feel white hot bliss crawling up your spine. 

“Fuck. Dave. Gonna come.”

He doesn’t let up, the firm strokes of his fingers driving you higher and higher until finally you reach your peak and come crashing back down. You shatter, your pussy clenching rhythmically. 

“Can I fuck you?” Dave’s voice is rough and low like he’s been yelling.

“Do you have a condom?” 

“Do I need one?” 

“I mean I’m on birth control” 

“Oh I got snipped when I divorced Carol, that’s not what I meant” 

“They had vasectomies in the 1800s?”

“Are you clean or not?” 

“It’s a little fucking late to ask that, man, you just had your tongue inside me, but yeah.” 

“Fair enough.”

Dave helps you up the bed until your head rests on the pillows. He takes your shirt off, stripping your bra with it. He’s fully dressed and you’re bare before him. He leans down and kisses your neck, before his lips trail down to your chest. He sucks a mark into the soft skin of your breast. You start unbuttoning his shirt but he just pulls it off over his head, an urgency that wasn’t there before taking hold. 

“Need to be inside you, fuck.” 

He shucks his slacks down as far as possible without getting up and immediately slots his length against your slit. You reach down and adjust him yourself, lining up the tip with your entrance. He mutters something about “impatient” but pushes inside you anyway. He’s long and thick and he makes you feel so full. When he’s fully sheathed inside you, your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure. 

“Fuck. You’re huge, Dave. Fuck,” you whine, as if he needed the ego boost. 

You gasp his name as he starts fucking you, your fingernails digging into the skin at his sides. You pull him into you, urging him to fuck you harder. He growls and picks up the pace, the slapping of your skin, your loud moans, his grunts fill the room. 

You get lost in it a little, your mind slipping into that space where all you can think about is the sensation of his cock spearing you over and over. 

He slips a hand between your bodies and presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rubbing in small circles. You throw your head back and scream his name as a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Dave fucks you through it, thrusts slowing but not stopping yet. 

“Where?”

It takes you a second to process what he’s asking. Where do you want his cum? 

“Inside. Please.”

“So polite. Fucked the brat right out of you, huh?”

You’re too fucked out to respond with a witty comment, so he must be right. He thrusts into you deep and you feel his cock pulse as he spills inside you. The sensation almost makes you feel like you could come again. 

He pulls out as soon as he’s finished, rolling to his feet and heading into the bathroom. The bastard doesn’t even seem winded. He comes back from the bathroom holding a wet washcloth in his hand. Dave wipes up the mess between your thighs and tosses the rag onto the floor.  

It’s after he’s cleaned you up and is standing in front of the bed that you notice his body. He’s more lean and muscled than you could really see beneath his dress shirts. You wonder idly if you’ll ever see him like this again. His bare, broad chest. His happy trail leading down to his unbuttoned slacks. 

He strips off his pants, leaving him in his briefs. His thighs are toned too. You kind of wish you’d gotten to explore his body more thoroughly. He crawls into bed and lays beside you, but doesn’t fit his body against yours the way you want him to. Never one to not get exactly what you want, you snuggle up to his side, throwing your arm across his chest. He readjusts and holds you close. 

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” 

“Didn’t take you for a missionary guy. Guess we’re both full of surprises.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it.” 

You hum noncommittally. It was probably the best sex of your life, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

if I remember right, a year or two ago you made a list of recommendations for the Edinburgh Fringe. Any recommendations for this year? Already got Steffan on the list, obviously

I did! Okay, okay, here's what I've got this year. Caveat: I personally have not been up there yet (I'm going in a few days), but these are things I saw in preview/have heard great things about.

Steffan Alun: Free Standup, but at What Cost

Venue 156: PBH's Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth - Banquet Hall, 21.30-22.30

Back again! Eighth Fringe, this. The show is an hour, but that includes a 15 minute warm-up act, then Steff for 45 mins. He does this so that reviewers won't come and ruin the vibe.

Anyway this year he talks a bit about being Welsh and how he is therefore grumpy with Bristolian Tesco self-checkout machines

.

Jake Baker: Rule Breaker!

Venue 78: PBH's Free Fringe @ Canons' Gait - Lower, 16.30-17.30

I love Jake, he's lovely. He's a gentle soul and has an excellent delivery style; very warm and deceptively witty. Normally he goes with Just The Tonic and is given a searing hot basement in the sky that smells of mould for a room, but this year he's in Canons' Gait, which is much much nicer.

His blurb: A rule-breaker, a risk taker, a wave-maker and a convention-shaker – all phrases never before used to describe Jake Baker. But when a frustrating game of Alan Turing-themed Monopoly leaves him questioning the laws of the game, he finds himself turning that analytical impulse to bigger things.

.

Stephanie Laing: Rudder

Venue 300: Underbelly, George Square - The Wee Coo, 14.50-15.50

This show is particularly Tumblr-friendly, actually; it's described as 'neurodiversity-led'. However, it's a show with a content warning, although all the ticket page is saying is "themes" (insert Stephen Fry meme here); so, <SPOILER> she talks about withdrawing consent while sleeping with a FIB, and him continuing anyway. She talks about it in a very gentle way, avoiding Big Words, and it's very heavy on aftercare </SPOILER>

Her blurb: A comedy dance show about balance. Stephanie has a history of falling over a lot, accidentally kneeing herself in the face, and falling in love with total kn*bheads. In this show she uses a mixture of stand-up and dance to talk about bodies, sex, dancing, liking yourself, consent and healing. Also, there are cartoon bears and burlesque.

.

Erin McKinnie: The Faff Chronicles

Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 4, 16.50-17.50

An Edinburgh local! Good solid standup for those who like such things. New-ish, but one to watch, she's very good. Don't be surprised to see her take off

Her blurb: What a faff! Erin McKinnie, a rising star on the Scottish comedy circuit, talks about faffing through early adulthood – from rogue adventures to living the "below-deck life" on cruise ships – she finds the funny in every bizarre encounter in this uplifting show that asks: Do we really need a life plan? Or... are we all just winging it? A brilliant, snort-worthy giggle-fest about exiting your 20s, facing life indecision and chasing answers for those big questions, all the while trying to convince your mother that this is a real job...

.

Alexander Bennett: Emotional Daredevil

Venue 24: Gilded Balloon Patter House - Coorie, 18.20-19.20

Dark feelings show with a really positive, optimistic message and a fun concept. It uses audience participation, but that's not compulsory, you're safe.

Blurb: I'm the emotional daredevil, and for my next feat, I need someone's help. A show about risk, for the unsatisfied and traumatised, from a Chortle Award nominee

.

Alex Franklin: Gurl Code

Venue 61: Underbelly, Cowgate - Delhi Belly, 20.25-21.25

Alex does a fun thing each year where she takes her publicity budget and rather than spending it on publicity, she hides it somewhere in Edinburgh and then reveals a clue to its location every day. This tells you something about her, I think

Her blurb: In 2024, trans girl Alex (me) started HRT. Now she (me) feels the most alive she's (me's) ever felt; and she wants to make you feel alive too, or die trying. A ludicrous, musical, chaotic, joyful show about the colours of the world becoming slowly brighter and giving people furniture via the tube. Also being trans.

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Character Building Experience

Venue 49: Bedlam Theatre - Bedlam Theatre, 20.00-21.00

It's a D&D show - the MC Sasha Ellen makes a bunch of 40-minute simple campaigns and a selection of pre-rolled characters to do them, and then gets three comedians each time to play them. You know the drill. Good quality fun, and different each time, since you'll never see the same campaign/comedian mix.

.

2 Truths, 1 Lie

Multiple venues and times (search the EdFringe app or website to see them all), but I recommend catching the 3pm show on either the 25th or 26th August at Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 1 for reasons I shall not share here (ooh, mysterious)

Fun panel-like show! Often MC'd by Steff, especially if you catch one of the 3pm shows. The format is:

Three comedians each declare a statement. Two are true, but one comedian is lying. The MC doesn't know the liar, nor does the audience. The audience gets to ask questions of the comedians; at the end, they vote on who they think the liar is.

(The prize for winning is a smug sense of satisfaction.)

.

Anyway, once I'm up there I will possibly have more, but currently, that's my list

[badkitty3000]

Can you write Five (adult body) getting with a gorgeous woman for the first time and going on a bit of a power trip and just extreme edging and playing with her and kinda humiliating (actions not words)

Sorry this took a bit longer to write...I got a little carried away with this one and it ended up being longer than anticipated. But I loved this idea and I got very excited about it!

I decided to write this from Five's POV. I still consider this a reader-insert because the MC is not named. But there is no use of "you" in it, only "she" and "her".

Thank you so much for this request. It was really fun to write! 😽

Tamed

Five x Reader One-shot, 8143 words

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Physical age difference (older woman, younger man), everyone is an adult

I sigh heavily as I survey the shelf of cereal in front of me. I mull over my choices, humming quietly along with the Neil Diamond song playing on the grocery store speakers overhead. Wheaties, Grape Nuts, Cheerios. I wonder what the fiber to protein ratio is on these? God, I’m bored. Is this really my life, now? It’s true that I wanted a peaceful life without the threat of the world ending or the people I know getting obliterated and dying. And it was nice for a while, don’t get me wrong. I liked not having to worry about my family, now that they were all safe. And I didn’t need to act as a cold-blooded serial killer anymore. I could just be the normal man I had always wanted to be. But I’m beginning to think that normal equals boring.

I have my powers back, so at least there’s that. As much as I wanted a simple life for myself, that doesn’t mean I wanted to be just like everyone else in every way. Those years of having no powers were a downright nightmare, so thank Christ that didn’t last. So, yes, I can blink and time travel and kick the living shit out of almost anyone, but it’s still all so…ordinary. Most days I just wander around the city, enjoying the peace and quiet, but also wondering what to do next. There has to be something else, right?

I am still in the body of a much younger person, despite being mentally in my 60s. Physically, I’m around 20, and while I’m definitely not complaining, it has left a lot of years ahead of me. It has also complicated the dating scene. In the beginning, I had to wait it out a few years, and let me tell you, it’s rough being a horny old man in a 13 year old body. And a horny 13 year-old with the mind of an old man. But I did end up getting plenty of handjobs, so there’s that. Unfortunately, they were all self-executed.

But now…now, I am starting to reap more benefits of this strong and youthful body I found myself dumped back into all those years ago. Women notice me. Men notice me. And the attention is not half bad. It still leads to another dilemma, however.

Let’s say I would like to indulge in some adult activities with a woman. I have no problem finding someone to fill that role. That makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s true. On my way into the store today, I noticed a young woman looking me over like I was a piece of meat. I’m fairly certain that if I had wanted to, I could have strolled on over, struck up a conversation, and had her back at my place in an hour. I know this, because I’ve done it before. But afterwards, I feel like a real creep. They don't know my real age, obviously, and unless they have some unresolved daddy issues, I’m guessing they would be none too happy to find out. Not to mention there’s usually not a whole lot for the two of us to discuss. So, I ignored this most recent prospect and am now standing in front of a line of breakfast foods before heading on over to the soup aisle. 

I sigh heavily again.

“If you get the bigger box, it’s actually more economical, you know.”

I glance up, Fiber One cereal in hand, to find a woman standing next to me, the amusement on her face giving the impression that she’s up to something crafty. My mouth opens partly, but no sound comes out. She is maybe the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m talking supermodel-gorgeous. With her dark auburn hair and dramatic curves, I can’t stop staring like there’s something wrong with me. And here’s the real kicker: she’s probably in her mid-forties. Finally, I find my voice.

“Nope. I have a coupon, so…the smaller box is cheaper,” I offer, shaking the box in front of me with a smile. As if what I just said is a real panty dropper.

She nods, still smirking, and then I see her light brown eyes slowly move their way up my body until they’re back at my face again. One of her eyebrows quirks up playfully, insinuating she might like what she sees. She’s not even trying to hide it. 

“Shouldn’t you be buying Lucky Charms or something?”

I let out a small laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Do you mean, shouldn’t I be buying a kid’s cereal instead of something your grandpa probably eats?”

She shrugs. “Something like that.”

“Let’s just say my outward appearance is not a direct correlation to my mental maturity.”

She puts a hand on her hip and eyes me up and down again. “Is that so? Well, they say age is just a number, right? As long as that number is 18 or older.” She gives me a wink.

I almost keel over into the oatmeal, but I keep my cool. I return her flirtatious come-on with my own, flashing her a slanted smile as my gaze travels over her amazing body. I figure if she’s not going to be subtle, neither am I. 

“I can assure you two things. One, I am safely past that number. And two, if you need further proof, I’d be happy to demonstrate that I am most definitely not a kid.”

She lets out a breathy laugh and I pride myself on the fact that I may have flustered her.

“Cute and confident. I like that. Unless it’s all talk, of course.”

I cock my head to the side, a smug smirk on my face. “One way to find out.”

The corner of her mouth turns up, amused with this little game. “And what way is that?”

“Why don’t I whip it out and show you?”

I may have actually shocked her, because her eyes widen for just a split second before her devious grin is back. “Right here in the cereal aisle?”

I nod, and then reach into my pocket. I see her eyes wander down to my crotch. Then I pull out my wallet with a flourish and hold it up. She laughs loudly and genuinely, while I pretend I don’t understand, furrowing my brow in confusion.

“I was talking about my I.D. to show you my age. Did you think I meant something else?”

My face breaks into a grin and I put my wallet back. She smiles again. “Very clever. You must have a pretty big brain to go along with that handsome face.”

This a total, obvious set up, so of course I take the bait. “I haven’t had any complaints on size,” I answer, looking her dead in the eye.

She pauses for a second, as if mulling it over. Then she nods a little. “Hmmm,” she says, her pink lips pressed together. Without another word, she turns and starts pushing her cart down the aisle, away from me. I watch a little sadly, even though the view from behind is spectacular. I feel like I need to say something, so I call out.

“Aren’t you even going to give me your name?”

She doesn’t stop, but she answers back over her shoulder. “For now you can just call me Mrs. Robinson.” Then she pauses and turns to look at my stunned expression. “And if you understand that reference, then I hope we run into each other again very soon.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as she turns down the next aisle and is out of sight.

“Fuck,” I exhale out loud. Then I look down at my box of old man cereal and frown. “Of all the things I could be holding, did it have to be something that advertises the benefits of fiber? Couldn’t she have caught me with some wine or a goddamn box of magnum condoms?”

I glance up after I drop the box into my shopping basket, just as another woman passes by. This one, however, looks to be about 90 and is using a walker. Her confused look tells me there is nothing wrong with her hearing though, and she caught every word I just said out loud to myself. I smile, embarrassed.

“There’s good coupons in the ad today. Might want to check it out,” I offer.

She gives me a terse nod and she’s off, probably to buy the same cereal as me, and I head toward the check-out shaking my head at my dumbassery.

Five days later, and I’m back at the store. This isn’t my first trip back, hoping to run into the beautiful woman again. After learning through the way of the kid at the check-out that first day, I found out her name and situation. Apparently, she is quite the cougar on the hunt. At least according to Brad the bagger. She picks out a new piece of young, clueless arm candy at least once every couple of weeks. Even one of the stockboys in the back was chosen at one point. The stories he told the other guys at the store were legendary. She likes to be the teacher, and show them how to do things right. This is all hearsay, but I’m inclined to believe it after our little back-and-forth the other day.

She doesn’t know what I know, though. And that is the fact that I don’t need a teacher. I do things right the first time. And I do them pretty fucking well.

The woman has gotten under my skin. She is the excitement I have been looking for. And her age and my age, in this situation, aren’t a problem. It’s perfect, actually. So, each day since that day I saw her, I have been dressing in my black, three-piece suit and going back to the store. I look around, doing a few loops until I’m certain I’m not missing her, and then I buy some random item so I don’t look too suspicious. A carton of milk, a toothbrush, a stalk of celery. Brad the bagger has me figured out, though, and he gives me a lopsided smile that I know means “Better luck next time”.

This time, though, when I make my way down the frozen food aisle, I stop when I hear a voice from behind me.

“How did that cereal work out for you? Did you get enough fiber intake?”

I smile to myself before turning around. I put my hands in my pants pockets and spin on my heel, facing her head-on. She’s just as fucking gorgeous as the first time I saw her. Maybe even more. The tight, white, button-down shirt she is wearing is sleeveless, and I can see she is wearing a black bra underneath. It shows off her toned, tanned arms and just enough of her cleavage to make it interesting. The small shorts she has on are hugging her hips just right and those eyes of hers are framed in dark lashes that blink slowly as she looks me over. 

“Yes, actually. I think I got all of my nutritional needs met, thank you.”

She nods. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I wasn’t really sure I’d be seeing you again, but I’m glad we ran into one another. Must be fate.”

I nod. “Must be.” Then I give her a grin. “I definitely have not been coming here everyday hoping to run into you.”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, you’re not very subtle, are you? I never did get your name.”

“Five Hargreeves,” I say, extending my hand.

Since the reset, the Hargreeves name lives on. If you bear the name of my adoptive, world-dominating father, that automatically means you are special. We all have powers and everyone knows it. But the Umbrella Academy as a team has ceased to exist, even in people’s memories. So, she doesn’t know who I am and it just sounds like I have a number as a name for no reason. Some of my siblings have changed their names to try and start over with a clean slate; hiding their powers from the rest of the public. Not me. I’m too old and set in my ways. Besides…I could have picked a different name a long time ago and chose not to. No use in doing it now.

“Hargreeves? So, you’re one of them?”

She takes my hand in hers to shake it, leaving it linger just a little too long. Her question isn’t accusatory or judgmental in any way. She only sounds curious.

“I am,” I answer, but I don’t follow it up with any detail.

“So what can you do?”

Her question is obviously about my powers, but I’d rather keep our little game going.

“Many, many impressive things.”

She gives me a half smile and nods her approval. “Five huh? Interesting. Well, my name is not actually Mrs. Robinson, as I’m sure you figured out. It’s –”

I interrupt her. “I know who you are.”

“Oh really? Am I that famous around here?”

“Seems that you are. You have quite the reputation.” I pause. “In a good way.”

She smiles coyly again. Then she turns to the glass doors of the freezers that are lined up against the wall. She opens the door and reaches in to grab a bag of vegetables, a white cloud puffing up around her from the cold. When she closes the door again, she turns to face me. I glance down at her chest. The cold air has caused her nipples to harden and are clearly visible through her tight shirt. She sees me notice and lets me stare for a few more seconds before dropping the bag into the basket looped over her arm.

“Since you’re here, would you mind helping me with something?” she asks, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Her question jolts me out of my little daydream of running my tongue and teeth over those delicious looking peaks and I rub the back of my neck.

“Of course.”

She points back at the freezer. “Can you reach something on the top shelf for me?”

I nod and she opens the door, the blast of cold air hitting us both in the face. We’re standing close to one another now and I can see the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. It somehow makes her look even sexier.

“What do you need?” I ask. She’s a couple inches shorter than me and I look down at her.

Her eyes don’t move off of mine when she answers. “I need some sausage.”

I almost laugh directly in her face, and I can see she is trying to hold it together, too. But we’re both having too much fun to break now. I glance up to the top shelf and sure enough, there is a box of breakfast sausages. I put my hand on one of them.

“These?”

She shakes her head. “The big one.”

With a giant grin, I grab the bigger box and pull them down. Then I close in on her, until we’re so close her perfect tits are practically rubbing against my chest. I see her take in a sharp breath.

“That’s the one,” she says with a nod. “Just put it in my basket. If it will fit.”

“Don’t worry. I can make it fit,” I say as I smirk and look down at the almost-full shopping basket.

There’s a small opening along the side and I push the box into it, shoving it in to make a snug fit.

“See? Perfect fit,” I assure her as my hand brushes against her bare arm. “You just have to know how to slide it in.”

We stand there a second longer, our bodies so close I am having a hard time not pulling her in and fucking her into the frozen tater tots. The ridiculous innuendos are making us smile, though, and pretty soon we’re both laughing. Her laugh is nice and I like hearing it. It feels good to laugh with someone.

“So, Five…do you still have more shopping to do?”

I look down at my empty hands, then back at her. “Nope. I got what I came for.”

With another thoughtful nod, she sets her basket on the floor. “You know, I just remembered I left my wallet at home, so I guess I won’t be able to pay for these.”

“That’s a shame. You probably shouldn’t be driving without a license, either. Maybe I should take you home.”

She reaches out and slowly pulls my tie out from inside the vest of my suit, running two fingers down the silk edge of it before dropping it again. 

“Well, aren’t you such a nice young man? You must have been a boy scout.”

I shake my head and put my hands back in my pockets, trying not to moan directly in her face from her touch and the way she’s looking at me. “Not exactly.”

She shrugs and turns around, walking away. Apparently, I am supposed to follow her like an obedient little puppy. And I will for right now. I can play this game, too. I’ll let her think I’m some dumb kid that doesn’t know how to work a vagina and will cum all over her hand the first time she touches my dick. But she doesn’t know I’m about to prove her very, very wrong. I exchange looks with Brad the bagger, who is giving me a thumbs up, as I follow her out the doors.

I lead her to my car, and she stops when we reach it, surprised at what she’s seeing.

“Wait, this is your car?”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s great. It’s just I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a Corvette Stingray guy.”

I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her. It’s a nice day out and I have the top down. It’s also freshly washed, so the blue paint is shining. I watch her legs and ass as she slips inside onto the leather seat, and I close the door gently. When I cross over to the driver’s side and get in, she looks over at me with a smile and it doesn’t even feel awkward. We know what we’re doing, so there’s no need to try and pretend something else is going on here. 

“Where to?” I ask, turning the key in the ignition. The car roars to life.

Once she gives me directions, I peel out of the parking lot, rounding the corner at top speed and head out onto the main road. I like to drive fast, and when I look over at her, she is laughing; her hair blowing behind her in the wind and the sun shining on her face. Seeing her happy and excited like that makes me feel good. I kick it into fourth and whip around the cars in front of me.

We arrive a few minutes later. She lives in an unassuming house in an unassuming neighborhood. When she unlocks the door and lets me inside, I take a look around. The house is clean, tidy, and tasteful. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe leopard print sofas or a sex swing in the middle of the living room. But, no, this is very much a normal looking home. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” she says, gesturing to the living room we’re standing in before walking into the open kitchen that is right next to it.

I shrug off my suit coat and do away with my tie, laying them across the back of an armchair. I unbutton the top couple buttons of my shirt and roll up my sleeves as I join her in the kitchen.

“Would you like a beer?” she asks, her hand on the refrigerator door.

I can’t stop staring at her, and I’m dying to see that body that I know is fucking gorgeous under those clothes. But, I wait.

“Actually, do you have any scotch?” I ask.

She looks surprised and then she tilts her head. “Yes, I do. I have damn good scotch, in fact.”

“Great.”

She points to a cabinet. “In there. There’s glasses just to the left.”

As I turn to open the cupboard, I say something about how I’m impressed with her choice of booze. I pull the stopper out and fill two glasses halfway.

“Most of my guests don’t appreciate good quality scotch.”

I hand her a glass and take a sip from my own. She’s right; it’s damn good.

“I’m willing to bet I’m not like most of your usual guests.”

She eyes me up over her glass and shakes her head. “No. So far, you’ve been surprising me.” She takes a drink and lowers her glass again. “So, these powers you have. What are they, exactly?”

This is the perfect invitation and my mouth pulls into a smirk. I set my glass down on the counter behind me. With no warning, I blink the few feet that separates us and I reappear almost on top of her, with my body brushing against hers as she audibly gasps.

I place a hand on the side of her neck, my thumb rubbing lightly across her cheek. “That,” I answer, before using my other hand to take her glass and set it down behind her.

I can see and feel her chest starting to rise and fall at a more rapid pace as she stares up at me, her lips slightly parted. I don’t want to wait anymore, so I lean in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but when I feel her mouth respond to mine, it becomes more heated. Soon, I am pulling her to me with an arm around her waist. My hand is still on her neck, and I chance it by giving her hair a soft tug from behind. I hear her breathe in sharply through her nose and she presses into me further.

When we finally break away from one another, our heads still close together, we are breathing hard and fast. I push my groin against her so she can feel what she’s doing to me. I see a small smile form on her lips.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting from me?” I ask quietly.

She lets out a very soft sigh and closes her eyes before opening them again and pushing back against me.

“Among other things,” she says.

I nod before diving back onto her mouth again, hungry for more. Her hands run down my back and down to my waist, then back up my arms. I love the feeling of her hands on me and it’s getting me even more riled up.

I stop again, leaving her breathless. Without bothering with anymore questions, I rip her shirt open down the front, tearing the buttons apart until it’s fully open and I slide it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. She doesn’t try to stop me and when I take a few seconds to admire the view of her magnificent tits in the thin black bra she is wearing, she gives me a smile. I run my hands over them and she tilts her head back.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her. When she looks back at me, I raise one eyebrow. “But I think you already know that. Don’t you, honey?”

She gives me a small laugh. “Honey?”

I put my hands on either side of her waist and pull her in with a sharp tug and suddenly she’s not smiling anymore. But she is clutching at my shirt on my back.

“You know exactly what you’re doing with that amazing body of yours. And you like it when you have to show your little boy toys how to handle it, don’t you?”

She is looking up at me in surprise, her chest flush with mine and my dick grinding into her. She takes a loud breath in and her hands fall to my waist. Her mouth twitches up at the corner and she shakes her head.

“Damn. You figured me out.”

My hands find their way down to the front of her shorts and I start to slowly unbutton and unzip them, all while looking her directly in the eyes. I do not return her smile. I want her to know I mean business.

“That’s not what’s going to happen this time.”

I push her shorts down and they drop to the floor at her feet. Her small, black panties match the bra and I immediately want to tear those off, as well.

“What is going to happen, then?” she asks, still trying to maintain her air of coolness, but I can see I’m getting to her when she swallows hard.

I don’t answer, but I do drop to my knees in front of her and look up at her shocked face. I yank the panties down in one motion and she steps out of them. With one more look back up, I lean in and drag my tongue up her slit; slowly and deliberately, while she lets her eyes close and her head fall back. A soft whimper escapes her throat and her hips push subtly into me. She tastes so good, just like I knew she would, and I give her another long lick.

“We’re going to have some fun,” I tell her, before giving her a soft kiss right onto her sensitive mound. She makes another breathy noise above me, and I take that to mean she likes my plan.

I know she still doesn’t realize everything I am capable of yet, but she will. I have decided, as a personal challenge to myself, that by the time I am through with her she will be begging me for more. I’m going to ruin her so that she won’t even be able to think of anyone else but me. And I’m not going to stop until this wild cat is a domesticated house kitty, purring in my lap. The thought makes me grin salaciously before my mouth is back on her.

I don’t bother starting out slow. I’m eating her out, sucking at her clit and flicking my tongue over and into every crevice, all while gripping her thighs so tightly my fingers are digging into her skin. She moans out loud, and I push her roughly backward until she is clutching at the edge of the counter and her ass is up against it. I pull my face off of her just long enough for me to take a hand and slap the inside of one of her thighs. She looks down at me, startled.

“Spread them for me,” I demand.

She follows my instructions, widening her stance, and I go back in for more. I could eat this pussy all day, and I shove my tongue inside of her. Her slick is pouring out of her the more I work her over; coating my mouth in her delicious taste. The loud breathing and even louder moans I hear are turning me on and my cock is straining inside my pants.

“Fff…oh my g-ahhh…yes yes…ff-iii…”

I let out a tiny laugh because the sounds and words she’s saying make no sense. I can’t tell if she wants to say my name or curse, but either way I know I’m doing something right. I’ve got her brain all scrambled, which is what I was aiming for.

I keep going, fucking her with my hungry mouth while she gets more and more worked up. Her whines are becoming higher in pitch and she’s desperately trying to grind against my face. When I feel her hand on my head, her fingers laced in my hair, I know I’ve got her. She tries to push my face harder into herself.

“Five…keep going…more…” she stutters out, and I know she’s teetering on the edge.

Instead of letting her come all over my face, I immediately back off. She tries to pull me back in, but I don’t let her. I look up at her as I catch my breath, my mouth wet from her dripping pussy, and I love how fucking desperate and sad she looks right now.

“What…fuck…I was right there,” she pants, as if she thinks I made some mistake and I didn’t realize she was about to finish.

I shake my head slowly, like the smug asshole I am, and rise up until I’m looking down on her again. Her chest is heaving and she’s looking at me like she can’t quite believe what is happening.

“I know, sweetheart. That wasn’t fair, was it?” I ask condescendingly before giving her a kiss on her cheek.

She stares at me in disbelief for a second before one side of her mouth quirks up. “You were right. This is not how I thought this was going to go.”

I stroke her cheek and brush a piece of hair off her forehead. My movements are slow and gentle, and I’m taking my time. 

“But do you like it?” I ask quietly, before guiding her face to look at me with a hand on her chin.

She swallows nervously again, but that tiny smile is still there and there’s a hungry spark in her eyes. She nods.

“Yeah. I think I do.”

When she pulls me by my belt loops, hard so that my groin slams into her, I chuckle. “The more you want it, the more I’m going to make you wait.”

Her eyebrows draw together with frustration. It’s the first time she’s looked significantly younger than her age, and she almost appears to be on the verge of a temper tantrum. I can tell she’s used to getting her way all the time. I like teasing her, but I also don’t want to be that much of a jerk. Plus, holding out is killing me, too.

“How about this, I’ll give you a choice. I can either fuck you here, on the kitchen countertop; or we can go to the bedroom. Whichever you want.”

She makes a little gutteral noise in her throat and her eyes flutter close for half a second. She tries to push against me again, but I don’t let her.

“Bedroom,” she whispers.

I nod, pleased with her choice. There will be a bigger work area for me there. She takes me by the hand, leading me down a hallway. I know she’s a little embarrassed, because she’s completely undressed except for her bra, and I still have all of my clothes on. It further drives home the point that I’ve taken the reins here.

Once we’re in the bedroom, she tries to pounce on me again, but I gently push her back onto the bed. She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and waits. I think she’s starting to understand the game now. As she watches, I strip off my shirt and pants. Then I climb over the top of her in nothing but my boxers. She immediately lies down on her back beneath me.

I begin kissing her again; hot, open-mouth kisses that have her shoving her tongue inside my mouth and pulling me down on top of her. I reach around to unhook her bra and throw that off to the side somewhere. Now she’s completely naked and I just have to take a minute to admire the view.

I raise up on my forearms, pulling away from her mouth, and look below me. Fuck. I’m not sure how it’s possible that I ended up with this absolute work of art that is dying for my dick inside of her right now, but here we are. It’s a goddamn miracle, is what it is. 

“Do you know how stunningly beautiful you are?” I ask sincerely, still not taking my eyes off her luscious curves.

This seems to make her a little flustered and I even see her blush a little. It has me thinking that maybe these dumbass toddlers that she’s been bringing back here haven’t exactly been as appreciative as I am. They apparently didn’t realize that they should have been worshiping her, not just fucking her and leaving. What a tragedy.

She laughs quietly. “Ok.”

“I’m not kidding,” I tell her, looking her in the eyes again. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

When I say that, our eyes locked on one another, I can feel something click between us. A connection is made. I can see that she believes me and I’ve made her feel good about herself. But there’s something else there, too. Something I don’t know how to describe. But I like it.

“Thank you,” she whispers with a smile.

She reaches up to push my hair back off my face, and then she is pulling me down again with a hand on the back of my neck. I let her take the lead for just a second because it feels so good. My body is covering hers as we trade more deep kisses back and forth, and I position myself so that my hard cock is pressing between her legs. She moans into my mouth and opens her legs wider for me. 

I keep at it, rubbing up against her; the cotton fabric of my boxers creating a shield of friction between us, but she is still getting off on it. It obviously feels amazing to me, too, and I am honestly thinking of foregoing this whole orgasm denial thing I’ve got going on and just fucking her as hard as possible right now. But I don’t. I continue to rut into her as she presses harder and harder against me, jerking her hips up and digging her nails into my bare shoulders.

“Oh my god,” she whines next to my ear. “Please…”

I smile to myself, my face hidden in the crook of her neck. I give her a sharp bite that makes her squeak. 

“I love that you’re so needy,” I tell her, moving to the other side of her neck and sucking a bruise onto it. “I bet you never begged for someone’s cock before, have you?”

She doesn’t answer, probably because she’s either too focused on humping me or she’s embarrassed that I called her out. Either way, it’s a win for me. She keeps grinding against me, her actions becoming faster and more desperate. I can feel her hot, wet pussy with each pass over my dick, and oh fuck, it makes me want to lose my mind. I can’t even really believe I’m holding out this long, but I’ve made it this far I guess. Let’s keep this going.

As soon as she is completely lost in her own little world, eyes closed and hands clutching at my arms and back, I can see she’s so close to coming again. She’s making small grunting noises and whimpers as she rams her swollen clit against me. 

“Oh shit…oh shit…” she starts chanting and her grip on my skin tightens.

The grin on my face is extremely cruel as I suddenly move off her, sitting on my knees in between her legs. Her hips move up, only to meet nothing but air and her eyes fly open.

“What the fuck!”

Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing like a freight train. Her hips keep twitching just slightly, like they haven’t quite caught up to the rest of her body yet. She looks pretty pissed off and it’s adorable.

“Did you think I was going to let you get off just from grinding on my dick like that?” I shake my head, pitying her. “Honey…I thought you figured this out.”

“You are a bastard,” she fumes, her jaw clenched tight.

“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing nothing but the marks I just gave you. You’re still so soaking wet for me I can see the evidence in a pool on the sheets.”

She’s quiet again and a soft blush blooms across her chest. I know it is killing her to be this vulnerable right now, so I decide to throw her a bone. Still resting on my knees, I pull my boxers down over my cock, letting her have a good look before maneuvering them the rest of the way off. I stay where I am and make her watch.

Taking my rock hard dick in my hand, I give it a few slow strokes while maintaining eye contact with her. She has propped herself up on her elbows and she’s practically drooling over what she’s seeing. I might not be porn star-level big, but in the scheme of things, it’s mildly impressive. At least, she seems to think so.

“Damn,” she rasps out before looking me in the eyes again. She is dead serious when she tells me, “I want you to fuck me with that.”

I laugh because I just can’t help it and even she smiles at that. I reach down and take one of her hands, pulling her up towards me so that she is sitting up.

“Come here,” I say gently, although my face is back to being serious. She shuffles forward a little and I grab her around the waist, positioning her so that she is straddling my lap while I stay kneeling.

The position makes my cock rub against her slit again, and she’s already trying to roll her hips into me. I let her do that a few times, mostly because it feels so goddamn good, but then I hold her still with my hands on either side of her waist.

“I know how badly you want this. And I’m going to give it to you, don’t worry. But you’re going to have to be a little more patient, ok sweet girl?”

My tone is patronizing and she doesn’t like it. But after a few seconds she gives me a small nod. I go back to kissing her, because I seem to not be able to get enough of her lips against mine, and I tangle my fingers in her hair. She groans when I give it a sharp tug.

Without pulling away, I move my hands back down to her hips and start to guide her. Very slowly, I move her body over mine, so that her dripping wet slit is sliding back and forth over my dick. I let out a long, low moan and tighten my grip on her. 

“Please,” she’s whimpering against my mouth again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” I tease, moving my lips to her neck and her shoulder while still keeping control of her pace on top of me.

“Please fuck me.”

It’s so pathetic the way she’s whining that I want to laugh. But I’m also pretty damn close to begging too, and I have to keep trying to focus on not letting myself slip inside of her just yet.

I shake my head, denying her request, but I do pick up the pace a little. I start moving her faster, until she’s grinding hard onto my shaft and I can see she’s just about ready to come again. 

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Is that good?” I ask softly near her ear.

She nods, her eyes still closed. “God, yes…so fucking good. I’m almost there…please.”

“I know you are,” I tell her.

She starts whining and moaning louder and grinding into me harder and she thinks I’m going to let her finally give in to her orgasm, but just as I see her start to tip over that edge, I use my strength to throw her off of me so that she is on her back again.

“Fiive…”

She draws my name out in a long, demoralized cry that is so sad and so pitiful, with her eyes that are pleading for me and her mouth open while she gasps for breath. Oh fuck…I need her.

This time I don’t tease or prolong anything. I’m hard as a rock and dripping with pre-cum and I need to be inside of her now. But there’s one last thing I’m going to make her do for me.

I grab onto her again, and instead of throwing her around, I use my handy spatial manipulation powers and blink us both into the position I want. This is always a risky move that could end with someone accidentally sailing onto the floor or my genitals being smashed into a pancake, but luckily I get it right. I land on my back and she is on top of me. She lets out a short shriek of surprise, but when she realizes what happened she smiles down at me.

“Ride me,” I tell her, not even bothering with an explanation of how or why I flung her through the vacuum of space. “Now,” I emphasize through gritted teeth, in case she was not getting the point.

She gets it, though, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she is sinking down onto my cock until I’m fully buried in her tight sleeve, and holy shit, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.

We both let out a loud moan from how amazing it feels after all of the anticipation. She leans back, grabbing my legs behind her for leverage, and she starts to rock her hips forcefully on top of me. I reach up to squeeze and mold each breast in my hands, watching as her beautiful mouth drops open and her head falls back.

Her movements are driving me crazy, but I still want more. I lower my hands so I can clutch at her hips again, but not before I slap her on the ass with a loud smack. That got her attention and her head snaps up again, eyes wide.

“Look at me,” I demand.

She does and I hold her gaze while I pump her body faster and harder on top of me. I’m pushing my own hips up against her, trying to feel as much of her as humanly possible, but I swear it’s still not enough.

“Fuck me harder. Come on, harder,” I tell her, and I vaguely wonder if I sound as pathetic as she did earlier. I don’t care. I’ll beg on my knees if I can get more of what I’m feeling right now.

She bites at her lower lip in concentration and nods at my request, speeding up her forceful thrusts until she’s almost all the way off of my dick before slamming back down again. Her tits are bouncing so perfectly and her face is flushed. I really don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to last when I look at her like that.

I’m starting to sweat now with how hard I’m working at trying to drill into her, and all the while I’m feeling that warm, amazing feeling in my lower abdomen that means I’m about to lose it. I see by her face and hear from her high-pitched mewls that she is close, too. I’ve got to dial it up a notch, so I move one hand off her hip and start vigorously rubbing her clit with my thumb.

That does it, and she starts thrashing erratically, head tilted back, while she wails like she’s in pain. I know she’s not though, because after another second her pussy is fluttering tightly around my cock and she’s screaming so loud I would be shocked if it weren’t for the fact that I’m also coming fast and hard.

“Fuuuckk,” I yell out, joining her shaking and shuddering body with my own spasms as I push her down as hard as I can manage while unleashing my cum inside of her.

It takes several minutes of loud panting and aftershocks, while she lays on top of my chest and I stroke her back. I’ve never experienced anything that intense before, but I really hope I get to again sometime soon. I finally start to slip out of her and she rolls off of me to lie next to me. 

I don’t know what it is, but there’s some weird connection between us, and I know she can feel it too. It doesn’t matter that I teased her mercilessly and stripped her of all of her control. I smile over at her and lean in for a kiss while trying to smooth her tangled hair down. 

“I wasn’t expecting this,” she says with a small laugh, and I know she’s talking about picking up a supposedly naive kid and having them rock her world, but it has another meaning too. She wasn’t expecting to feel like this. And neither was I.

I shake my head with a smile and trace her lips with my fingers. “Me either. But I think I could get used to it.”

“Me, too.” She pauses and looks a little nervous. “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but…do you want to stay for a while?”

I don’t even pretend to think about it or try to play cool. “Yes, I’d love that.” When she smiles, she looks so relieved and happy, and I go in for another kiss. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll go grab our drinks. But I want you right back here in bed for me, ok?”

I was sort of teasing, but she smiles her gorgeous smile and nods her head. “Ok.”

Once we’re back in bed, with me propped against the headboard and her leaning against my chest, we gradually sip our scotch and I run my fingers through her hair.

“So, I have to ask. You don’t seem in any way like any other man your age. Why is that? How are you so different?”

I pause for a second while I decide if I want to get into all of that. But then I think, why the hell not? I like this woman and if she wants to know about me, I might as well start with the big truth.

“Well, get comfortable, because this may take a while.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

It’s a month later and I’m back at the same grocery store. I only needed a few things and I wait in line until it’s my turn to check out. As I watch my items get scanned over the red laser, Brad the bagger steps up to help out. He recognizes me and gives me a big grin.

“Good to see you, it’s been a while.” He takes a look around. “I haven’t seen her here in a while, not sure why. But, hey, did you ever seal the deal before? Me and some of the guys in back have a bet going.”

“Is that right?” I say with a sly grin. “Which way did you bet?”

Brad looks shocked like it could be any other answer. “That you did, of course! I saw the way she was looking at you; like the cougar caught her meal for the night.”

He laughs at his joke and I smile a little, just as my girl comes jogging up behind me to put a jar of olives on the belt before my order is finished.

“Here you go, honey, sorry it took me forever to find it,” she pants, slightly out of breath. “Are those the right ones?”

I smile down at her and nod. “Yes, darling, thank you.”

As she squeezes past me, pleased with my praise, I give her a small smack on the ass. She turns around and rolls her eyes at me before flashing me one of her pretty smiles that makes me want to melt onto the linoleum floor beneath my feet.

“I’m going to wait in the car,” she tells me, before giving Brad a little wave on her way past.

I swear, it looks like every bagger and stock boy in the whole damn store has now gathered nearby and are staring in awe at the scene they just witnessed. I pretend I don’t notice, but I can’t help feeling proud of myself and it’s hard to keep the smile off my face. As I am paying and taking my bag from Brad, I hear someone in the crowd whisper a little too loudly.

“Did you see that? How the fuck did that dude tame the cougar?”

I definitely can’t keep the smug look off my face now and I nod at the group of jackass kids on my way out the door. “Gentleman.”

Then I head on out to my Stingray, where my dream girl is waiting patiently for me.

[garr9988]

I say this as a big SU fan: If I had to give Steven Universe one glaring L above all else, while fully recognizing that it may be at least in part due to the final season & Future being so rushed:

It’s having Rose and her death be so heavily suicidal-coded (the art books went in on how much she loathed herself and thought she was incapable of changing, so) and yet ending the series with Steven being so irreconcilably angry with her and the impact of her death that he locks a reminder/representation of her away in a place he doesn’t visit so that he doesn’t even have to acknowledge her existence.

Granted, the finale ended with Steven getting therapy and clearly improving his relationships with the Gems, Greg, and Connie that were similarly causing him grief, but Rose in particular is a very specific case in that we don’t see whether he improves his feelings on her, and because she’s dead she isn’t an active presence in his life that he’s compelled to reconcile with. Greg is his dad and Connie is his girlfriend, he has to like them to keep them around, but there’s no incentive with Rose.

There’s also Greg, Pearl, and Volleyball still loving Rose even with the full picture, but to me that feels barely there anyway, a half-hearted tack-on.

I still have a big gripe with the movie for tacking on Rose’s treatment of Spinel and making Rose seem even worse than before, purely because neither the movie nor Future remind the audience of the ways she eventually improved. It felt like the writers went too far when they had already given us Rose’s story in reverse and already had the characters react negatively to the news she was Pink Diamond in the original show.

There’s obviously room for audiences having to remember these things themselves and that a narrative doesn’t have to point these out all the time. But a narrative bears responsibility for the way it frames things and the way it wants or expects an audience to view something.

Rose’s redemption arc being shown in reverse IS cool, in concept! But when the audience insert protagonist and a lot of other characters get this reverse arc and act like the terrible things are the conclusion of her self, that these secrets aren’t her past that she left behind but the mask being ripped off and the true evil monster being revealed for who she is… it doesn’t leave a good taste in my mouth.

That’s certainly part of why a good chunk of the fandom hates Rose the way they do, bc to a non-negligible extent the show is fostering their view, playing it out on screen without actually correcting it.

It’s obviously realistic and possible and downright good & compelling for someone to have a very negative response to another character’s death (suicide) and the fallout they’re left with. But a character who dies in such a way, especially Rose. deserves to be given sympathy and respect within the narrative.

[connabeth]

rick really woke up and said "what if i give the people what they want for once" and gave us grumpy black cat introvert percy and sunshine golden retriever extrovert annabeth we never knew we needed

also no one's talking about how percy made friends with annabeth's college's security guard (Florence or smthn?) so he's the only one allowed to walk in her campus anytime?

also I found a typo in the third chapter where dave was accidentally called paul which I found really funny

1) i’m glad this series is doing justice to annabeth’s personality because she spent so much of pjo & hoo caught in an inner turmoil of hurt and uncertainty and self-loathing and insecurity and fear given the circumstances of luke’s betrayal and percy’s imminent death. in spite of it all, she was still a bastion of hope and light throughout those books, but she deserves to be silly and unburdened by the weight of the world now that she has percy back and there’s no big prophecy (unresolved trauma aside). i think, in her mind, even though new, crazy things keep being thrown at them and she most certainly deals with a latent fear of losing percy at any moment, she’s resolute and confident that they can overcome anything that gets in their way of their dream of going to college and finding peace together because she feels that invigorated and wants it that bad. even if greco-egyptian gods or a triple goddess or a mortal apollo pop up throughout their senior year. i feel like she’s giving herself the freedom to just let go, breathe, be sure everything will be okay in the end, and just be excited about things without drowning in worry for once, which i love. she deserves to feel that childlike enthusiasm she was deprived of for so long. her confidence that they’ll be okay extends to percy being able to complete all his classwork and applications, which in turn reinforces his determination.

2) as for percy, he’s definitely the more outwardly insecure out of the two, mainly because of how his academic prowess pales in comparison to hers and the fact that he feels he doesn’t deserve her and she’s way better than him. percy thinking her SODNYC friends perceive him in the same critical light obviously isn’t helping. it’s evident in the way he’s amazed when he looks at her, disbelieving for a second that she’s his girlfriend, and how he observes her interaction with others more similar to her, feeling like an outsider who can’t understand that part of her brain the way her friends can. it’s even more abundantly clear when he believes “She would always succeed whether I was around or not,” which in theory is a sweet sentiment to have about your very capable girlfriend, but academic and social success aside, she needs him as much as he needs her and she’d see no point in being in california without him. but his insecurities and easy jealousy prevent him from fully understanding this even if he innately knows it’s a universal truth that they’re meant to be together. however, all this being said, percy’s characterization in wottg so far is a little…weird. in order for you to literally pee your pants, something must scare you or catch you off guard really, really bad. so while it makes sense for him to fear a powerful goddess, wetting his boxers seems like an extreme reaction. i know rick was probably just trying to insert immature humor, but the implications are not what he was going for considering this is the boy who didn’t have that reaction staring down titans and giants and nyx and tartarus himself. so forgive me if i think it’s a little insane that percy having such a visceral reaction to a goddess 13 year old hazel fared well against is out of character, even after taking into consideration his fear of not receiving and completing the remaining quests on time. it makes sense for him to be nervous and on edge, given the quiet of the past month, but that amount of fear towards a deity who’s not the most scary thing he’s faced down is an interesting choice since rick isn’t known for realistic depictions of PTSD and that likely isn’t the intention here. it’s also curious how it’s implied even a goddess as primordial as aphrodite caves in to hecate…

3) florence is the goat and i love percy making random friends to help his cause. he doesn’t go out of his way to befriend others in the mortal world unless they approach him first or there’s an opportunity there. and the fact that annabeth can a casually ask her friend to cover for her being gone from her dorm for several days makes me think this is far from the first time she’s snuck out for prolonged periods of time👀

4) this is an INSANE typo to have in a book because clearly not a single person proofread it and it doesn’t surprise me that it got past rick, but becky and several rounds of editors and everyone else in his circle who’s read the book not picking up on it prior to publication is wild. rick is too eager to have his self-insert be everywhere and it shows💀

[violetasteracademic]

The bonus chapter that ended Nessian

This is honestly really surprising to me. Apparently there are people out there that think Nesta and Cassian are going to end up together. Have they not read their bonus chapter? SJM effectively ended them.

First of all, the way they think about each other is not romantic at all:

Cassian has no idea where he stands with her, and as you can see, he is so unhealthily obsessed with Nesta that he can't stop thinking about her and literally rushed to interact with her even though she doesn't even like him and is mean to him! If Sarah wanted this be be romantic, she could have made totally different choices. We could have learned they shared secret touches or looks, have their fingers trembling or breath catching around each other. But no, just confusion and unhealthy obsession on Cassian's part. Honestly, he kinda seems like an incel here.

Worse than that, it's clear he obviously only lusts after her:

He literally has not said one thing about her personality! He's just weirdly obsessed with her boobs and her scent and is just thinking about her stroking him. If we were supposed to have gleaned he has real feelings for her, and not just lust, couldn't Sarah have added something more sweet and personal here? I don't know. Maybe he could have brought her a thoughtful present that shows how much he sees and understands her when no one else does. But no. He just wants to get laid and touch her boobs. Honestly, ugh.

And let's not even get started about the Mor thing!

Cassian slept with Mor because he was jealous of Azriel! And if you recall, in ACOMAF Morrigan said Cassian just wants what he can't have and it has driven Cassian crazy for centuries that Mor never wanted him again after they slept together once. Rhys confirms this too.

Nesta clearly is not interested in Cassian. In fact, she knees him in the balls right after this. Honestly? This actually seems like a really toxic perpetuation of the Mor situation. Cassian yet again wants what he can't have, and it is actually in the canon text that he has this problem. Also, notice that he's ashamed of this situation and embarrassed to tell Mor about it? That's not a very good setup for a romance. He should have the full support of his friends and family in order for Nessian to work.

He calls himself stupid, he knows it's wrong, he just doesn't care for a moment because of the lust. Again, Nesta knees him in the balls. Not interested. Take a hint you creepy incel! And even though he was fully planning on devouring her lips, he is clearly not anymore!

But here's the real nail in the coffin:

Nesta forbids him from coming back. She threatens that she'll scream if he does and she is only willing to work with and talk to anyone but him. How is he supposed to get around that? How is their relationship supposed to develop if he is forbidden from talking to her and seeing her? I just don't understand how this is supposed to resolve in the books. At least hundreds, if not a few thousand of the tens or hundreds of thousands of SJM readers have read this bonus chapter. There's no way to come back from this.

Also- did you notice in ACOFAS Nessian's same drama is still playing out, but SJM interestingly enough introduces a character named Emerie and they have a scene together? Seems like SJM is clearly telling us Nessian isn't happening and setting up a new love interest for Cassian. Based on their limited interactions, it's actually really obvious to me that they are a much better fit and there is already a ton of foreshadowing that they are endgame. In fact, I think they are mates!

I swear this has nothing to do with the fact that I dislike Nesta. I mean, do I dislike her, and do I think Cassian deserves better? Yeah. But that's not relevant here. What's relevant is text and foreshadowing and the fact that I don't like Nesta and think Cassian deserves better because I've self inserted myself into Sarah's writing and want her to do what I want and I don't want Archeron sisters I don't like winding up with a bat boy I love.

Wait no... Ignore that second part I didn't mean to type that out.

[stari-hun]

The love and deepspace male leads are so interesting cause the MC changes with them too?

💫 MC and Xavier ; He’s so soft spoken but still firm with his boundaries. Which is good! Since the MC with him is super mischievous and fun. Like even in his bunny costume he literally KNEWWWWWWW we were up to something when we looked at the tail he was SCARED he knew full well the things we get up to. He’s very chill so she’s much more upbeat around him and excitable. Not that she’s not peppy with everyone else but it’s more like since she trusts Xavier to have her back so she’s more reckless than with anyone else. He also gives the vibe of more watching over her as well which makes sense from the backstory and anecdotes since that’s what he’s done for so long. It’s better for angst potential that he always gives the MC his entire heart every time they meet again but he still stays in a loyal knight position to her.

🐚 MC and Rafayel ; This time HES the menace so she takes more of role of supervisor to the chaos. Her innate personality hasn’t changed and she still has her moments of yeah let’s be chaotic together but it’s very chaotic neutral x chaotic neutral. She isn’t apprehensive to cause a mess anymore but she’s still aware that Rafayel is completely likely to get into a mess he can’t handle if he reins free. They have the confidence in each other to survive but they want the best for each other. He’s a constant sass and flirts with her all the time, and he’s kinda switched with Xavier where he flirts so much that when Raf is more open it’s more surprising.

- Both of the dynamics really take on a real life feel to it? Like obviously the MC is still written like a main character and she definitely is written like she’s aware she won’t be hurt by the world too badly or at least not die until it’s not time in that protag kinda way. But MC code switches depending on who she’s with to bring out certain parts of herself over others + based on the situation.

❄️ MC and Zayne ; Um. I feel like the writers didn’t know how to balance him being very cold with his actions being warm and how that melded with the MC. Cause he’s super charming and he’s genuinely a well loved male lead for a reason because he cares so deeply and shows it through all of his actions. He just doesn’t have that much chemistry with the MC 😭 some of their interactions are SO painful cause until you have a pretty high intimacy rate it’s so much of “I feel like you find me annoying at times” “I do” AUGHHHH. Every fanfic or piece with an ooc MC or a self insert is sooo much more chemistry with him. Cause the MC contrasts with him by being VERY peppy and happy and even more kind than with Xavier or Raf but with Zayne she just ends up seeming uncomfortable around him when ??? They’re supposed to be childhood friends kinda? Like not like Caleb but they KNEW each other beforehand pretty well and yeah he’s always been kinda cold but he’s always been someone to lean on and trust. Then they just don’t show the kind of trust they should have with a history like that.

[slickfordain]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬.

Warning: Yandere behavior, but we all know I always write Yandere on Tumblr. No specified gender for you. Also, reader with my personality again— since some people liked it very much.

Edit: I forgot to say the kids in Genshin are all platonic 💀

Teyvat is aware of their divine using them as a vessel. Teyvat is aware Celestia cannot defeat you either… As Celestia was obviously made by you. However, you have some concerning habits… Some are very very cute in your harem’s eyes ~ While some makes them worry for your health.

You have a problem with making your Genshin self-insert insert having such a gruesome backstory, it makes them wanna cry and hug your self-insert in their world. Apparently, your insert is indeed inserted in the game— ahah, when you shut off the screen and log off of course ♡

Perhaps, let’s say Zhongli would pick up on how you eat a lot of food… It amazes him. You even have a lot of mora, that you only spend it on food and nothing else. It… Does make him worry— But Yanfei would definitely sign the chefs to make your favorite dishes, just in case ~

Xingqiu would pick up on how you write an unfamiliar word called “Fan-fictions”. It has some Japanese words such as “Yandere” and “Tsundere”. He listened further into your works, and goodness, he has never felt so called out in his entire life when you specifically explained what Yanderes are. If you liked writing about Yanderes… You wouldn’t mind him being one for you, would you?

Childe would laugh his ass off whenever he hears you talking constantly to yourself, pretending as if you’re responding to them. But this makes him think you’re trying to communicate with him and Teyvat, makes his heart sore so much. You’re so sweet and acknowledging everyone, specifically him. ♡

Characters such as Pantalone and Baizhu have a realization you love spending Primogems on wishes, and always wasting them. So what do they do? Mischievously somehow gain Primogems for you, which you didn’t complain about at all.

People also have heard about your hatred towards Albert for being a creepy stalker. Now, this made Mondstadt furious at Albert. Not only does he stalk poor Barbara, he even dared to boldly disappoint you. (Barbatos killed him ehe)

Barbara has never felt so loved this much, she wants to bawl her eyes out — to show how much she loves and adores you.

Characters like Razor and Raiden Ei have come to realization you love sleeping around so much, they’ve gotten to know you sleep in work from time to time whenever it’s break. They take this advantage to make a setup room for you, where either of them can hold you in their arms and cuddle as they sleep against you.

Beidou, Lisa and Yae Miko would often see that you especially get easily injured. I’m not saying they’re the only ones terrified— trust me, many people in Teyvat are going to kill whoever hurt you,,, but they are the ones who ends up hearing about your condition. They’re so worried when they find out you don’t scream in pain, nor do you care about it because you’ve always been clumsy since childhood. They’re so worried, they might have a heart attack someday.

The Adeptus’ pick on the fact you like listening to “8-bit” version of music… It sounds hard to play, but they can’t deny you did have taste in music. Makes the guy from Lantern lite quest more inretested with you, and wishes to know you more! Or more so… Perhaps Enjou would take interest in this.~ He’s just as silly as you, why not?

Dainsleif notices how you stare at his character with adoration and love his design oh so much, that he also knows you love drawing, just like Albedo. Hearing this, Albedo loves you to death, like… Literally.

Aether hearing you’re also unstoppable that even Unknown God can’t stop you? Goodness this boy is falling in a deep rabbit hole for falling for you~!

Paimon sees you as a mother/father figure too honestly… Paimon relates to you so much about food, and always gets so happy when you agreed by getting food. Despite your tired expression, she just wants to cry because you did not once call her an “Emergency food”.

How about your complex theories? Tighnari and Al-haitham will have a whole set of a store with written details about your theories. You did die when Teyvat was made, so makes sense why you didn’t know everything. (…. You ate popcorn and watched your show as Archon war was a thing.) Every theories, is about very interesting things.

Snezhnaya and Tsaritsa would be so happy when they find out your world was filled with snow (to those who live in a snowy weather like me), and would flex it off to other nations like cocky little bastards. They see this as a blessing, and would try getting to know your culture by just the fact you and them have snow. That would mean you wouldn’t be cold in their place, right?

How about Fontaine being in horror when they find about your Creepypasta and FnaF books? They’ll keep themselves aware of the woods and will isolate any innocent beings from anywhere that involves woods and trees. Jeff the killer and Jeffrey C. Hodek (canon Jeff) definitely traumatized numerous of the people in Fontaine, considering their skins got burned a lot.

Yelan being also surprised she and other rich people in Teyvat, are in fact not the richest people in their own world after learning that… Moras aren’t actually real money? I can see Mona laughing at their misery, even though she’s sad she doesn’t exist literally in your world. How the fuck is she supposed to kiss hug you huh?

Venti and Nahida being so drawn to your morning voice, hearing you cursing as they didn’t know what the meanings behind those languages meant. Nahida would stare at your face in awe, listening to your stories as Venti would too, making a song about it probably— only for it to go downfall when they realize you occasionally hurt yourself in work. They’re horrified. YOU FELL OFF THE STAIRS??! They’re gonna faint.

Cyno who is in love with a heated face when he learns you love jokes, hearing you making a dark humor that just has him down bad for you— and ends up laughing. Your dark humor never goes too far, and he just loves it that you can accept his jokes. He is definitely going to be very loyal towards you…

Imagine Scaramouche/Wanderer lovingly gazing at your side view as you try to do makeup real quickly before playing your game. It didn’t matter. He loved your little habit of always doing your makeup first— and then play. He’s patient, and will always try his best… Ends up killing Hilichurls under one second, oops~

With everyone in Teyvat learning about your habits, learning about your talents…

They officially are definitely in love with you. They will always love you. They know when it’s you, even if someone tries to look like you and act like you to get attention. It will never work. They don’t care what form you take, because they’re obsessed and in love with the idea of you. They will only love you, you you you. You’re genderless? They’ll love you, you’re a bully? They’ll love you. It doesn’t matter what form you take.

They will always love you, [Name].

I wanna do a small love hc with Dainsleif and Pantalone x reader because I’m in love with them ♡ but I also wanna do persona insert x canon… Man.

[stxrslut]

I think the reason why so many people hate dark content is because they don’t understand it.

Incest for example has been a big topic on this side of tumblr as kinktober approaches and a few writers, including myself have mentioned it.

why is writing incest bad? It’s not, up front. the moment it becomes bad is when you romanticise it. the same goes for other dark topics, for example necrophilia or blatant rape.

acknowledging that these things exist is not a bad thing, and neither is acknowledging that there are certain people out there who do it. it is a horrible truth that nobody wants to exist, but it does.

using the infamous rafe cameron as an example, why would you want to read an incest piece about him?

rafe is a complicated character, and a very bad person. a lot of writers don’t like to take that into account. I’m sure we’ve all seen many works where rafe is portrayed as a sweetheart, a perfect husband who cares and would never do anything to harm you.

this portrayal of rafe has become the norm for many people on this platform. and so upon seeing dark content, they are trying to imagine it with this completely different character. the version of rafe that is romanticised.

when we write this content we don’t write it with that rafe in mind. we don’t want to be with this version of rafe that we’re writing, this is a bad character and we absolutely recognise it when writing him.

of course, as mentioned there are people who are imagining it with romanticised rafe, and also assume that was the rafe it was intended to be written with.

if that was the case then writing this content most definitely would be bad.

but why would we write dark content with a reader insert if we didn’t want this to happen to us? what is the point? that’s a valid question.

primarily, self insert or ‘x reader’ is just the format that we write in. even though we may be imagining our name and or face it’s not necessarily us. reader is just a character, let’s use puppy!reader for an example, she has her own characteristics specific to the reader or character. I don’t think I am puppy reader, but I love to use her character to write a reader.

self insert and second person writing is also a very good way to explore the thoughts, feelings and actions in a character in very great detail, which a lot of writers very much enjoy doing.

this is also another misconception that people make. because in some of the situations the reader goes along with / wants these things to happen, which is very easy to mistake for writer wanting it too.

so now we know that self insert does not mean desire. but even if we don’t desire this, why do we write it?

there are many reasons. one is character analysis. there are plenty of bad characters out there, and they would do that. we are simply acknowledging that.

we like to explore complexities and nuances of characters. this character would want to do that and so how would that play out? who would it be with and what would the feelings and emotions be? it’s interesting to explore darker parts of different characters.

another reason is trauma, to people without it that sounds ridiculous. but people with trauma in these kinds of situations may find comfort or control in reading about it in a safe environment.

I have a lot of childhood trauma, and there are certain pieces of writing centred around that kind of thing can really help me to think about it and help me to control the way I think about it.

now there are some aspects of dark content that we may say we “want”, but that is generally misunderstood.

let’s use a sentence I have said many a time, “I want rafe to fuck me with a gun”. no, I absolutely do not.

I am into humiliation and power play, I also enjoy a little bit of fear and pain in some circumstances. in a safe environment, for example, a fictional one, a gun would be a perfect way to do these things.

obviously in real life I wouldn’t let anyone come near me with a gun. it’s all about interpretation and understanding of safe environments.

when I’m reading a fic where gun play may be involved I read about the humiliation and power play and all sorts and think oh fuck that is sexy. because it is, in this very safe place where a gun is not going to harm me or anyone.

the same goes for lots of other forms of dark content. we might not necessarily want the exact action, but more the sensation or feeling that comes with the action.

but why would we write it when people are going to be triggered by it?

simply put, that is not our problem. I haven’t ever come across a piece of dark content that wasn’t correctly labelled and warned.

I’m not responsible for anyone else’s media consumption, if they choose to ignore my warnings it is entirely their fault.

also, free will exists, if someone decides they don’t like what they’re reading they can simply close the piece, stop reading.

in a nutshell, if someone who writes dark content is 1. not romanticising it and 2. labelling it correctly, you don’t have a reason to target them.

learning to distinguish between dark content and predatory content is so important so we’re not attacking the wrong people.

please stop targeting writers who write dark content when there are people out there who genuinely are horrible who we do need to be targeting. focus your attention on the real issues.

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games. 

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t. 

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home. 

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him.  He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious. 

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place. 

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head. 

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind. 

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company. 

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago. 

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.” 

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level. 

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances. 

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid. 

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it. 

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico. 

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy. 

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake. 

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk. 

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building. 

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them. 

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects. 

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound. 

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body. 

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises. 

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.” 

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip. 

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds. 

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity. 

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers. 

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own. 

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded. 

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training. 

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her. 

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand. 

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest. 

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘 

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark. 

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets. 

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp. 

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison. 

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat. 

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt. 

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things. 

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze. 

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming. 

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew. 

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.” 

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions. 

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing. 

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

 She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats. 

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

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

[iamnmbr3]

Severus calling Lily a slur in a fit of rage and humiliation while being bullied - obviously very bad. James publicly sexually assaulting Severus - obviously much worse?!!! That was some serious sadism on display. Yet for some bizarro reason the narrative wants me to judge the words said in this scene more harshly than the deeds done, because at this point Lily - an author self-insert and the Holy Mother of this saga - cuts one off for their crime and falls in love with the other. I do not like that Lily’s romantic choice is treated as some sort of absolution, but it’s what JKR implied. Despite paralleling James’ actions with the Death Eaters ‘sick’ ’torture’ of the Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup! Idk, I was never satisfied with the lack of follow through on the implications of that scene, nor with the textual idea that Snape’s fixation on the Marauders is petty childishness, rather than a quite understandable trauma response.

Yeah. I have a huge issue with the way James is framed by the narrative. It's also weird because in-universe everything works fine. The problem comes when we look at the jarring disconnect between what was written and the way the audience is cued to react. James's characterization - and the characterization of the Marauders - is well done and consistent. They all act and react realistically given who they are. The problem comes when we look at how we the audience are supposed to react. Because we are supposed to see their actions as bad, but not THAT big of a deal. And uh...yikes.

The Snape's Worst Memory sequence is one of the most horrifying and sadistic moments in the series. I find it particularly visceral and upsetting because it feels real in a way that some of the more fantastical scenes just don't. It's so horrifying and personal in a way that Voldemort punishing his minions or a snake coming out of a lady just isn't. The way James and the others so obviously delight in tormenting and humiliating Snape is just horrific. And the fact that they do this out in the open and face little pushback and no consequences makes it even more awful.

Even worse, everything we see in the narrative suggests that what they did wasn't even that unusual for them. The behavior and dialogue we see from Snape and from the Marauders makes it very clear that doing this sort of thing to Snape is a regular pastime. The reason this is Snape's worst memory is because of the effect this particular incident ended up having on his relationship with Lily, not because of the horrible treatment he endured which was horrifyingly routine.

JK Rowling seems to like Snape. But at the same time I think she tends to have a view (common among TERFs btw) that discounts men as victims of assault. Because that's what this was. And I know if a woman had been stripped and exposed by a group of boys JKR would not have treated it as lightly. Yes she thinks what happened was bad, but not THAT bad. And listen I don't have a problem with the story depicting this and I think the way it is viewed subsequently by the Marauders, wizarding society and Snape all work in the story. My problem is with the framing and the way JKR has talked about James in interviews where it makes clear that she doesn't view this with the gravity it deserves.

James shows more of a natural inclination towards sadism and obvious enjoyment of cruelty and violence than young Tom Riddle does. And this is never dealt with. A lot of the real evil people of the world are more like James - people who aren't the way they are because of some dramatic backstory or because of trauma or whatever. They just aren't kind. James wasn't raised without love or forced to suffer privation in an orphanage or anything like that. He comes from a loving home with parents who spoil him rotten. He has a lot of privilege due to both his wealth and his blood status. And he is cruel and delights in tormenting someone weaker than him for sport. Not because Snape did something to him. Not because they quarreled and James went too far in retaliation. But rather because, as James himself puts it, he exists. Which is so typical of the bullies of the world.

I actually like the fact that Harry's father turns out to be this kind of person. It think it adds depth and complexity to the narrative. But I don't think JKR fully understood or intended what she wrote. She meant to show James as flawed, but not to the extent that she ended up doing I think. And I agree that has always bothered me too.

[cerastes]

What are some of the greatest/most impressive feats of strength in Arknights’s story?

Taking the overall narrative and worldbuilding into account, I believe the most effective aspect of Arknights' narrative is that they managed to make Terra feel like a breathing, living world and setting instead of a vehicle for the point-of-view character to exist in and act upon. This is specially remarkable for a mobile gacha game, as settings in these tend to be exactly that sort of vehicle instead of world that give any hints of existing when outside the player's immediately vision. The way I like to think about it is, "if a tree fell somewhere in this setting while my intended point-of-view or self-insert character isn't there to see it, did it make a sound?”. In Arknights, Girls' Frontline and SIGH Epic Seven (credit where it's due), the answer feels like a yes to me, whereas in every other game of this kind, it feels like a no, if you know what I mean.

This is intrinsically tied to the cast of characters: It is an inevitability that games where a guiding principle is to release an immense number of characters throughout its lifetime will have characters that will never have any relevance whatsoever besides existing as a minor piece in the world, and Arknights is not immune to this. Even other works of a different base nature and with a much smaller casts will be victims to this: In Trails of Cold Steel, for example, you have a pretty big cast of playable characters, some of which are very well developed and have a lot of screentime and development, and others who are Gaius Worzel. However, this leads to two aspects of Arknights as a narrative and as a game telling a story and fleshing out a world that I appreciate:

The first is that those characters that do get used, are for the overwhelming majority fun and interesting to see and accompany throughout their narrative, and rarely for me, I include the usual point-of-view character in this, Doctor. I tend to have a pretty big dislike, if not disdain, for characters you're meant to self-insert into, I sincerely cannot stand them. Doctor definitely has a big of a self-insert nature to them, but there's also a lot of the Doctor that is actually pre-established, such as them being a weirdo, tending to be very effective but also causing troublesome aftermaths that others then have to clean up, and being particularly good at bonding with assassins and underworld types, among other things. More importantly, Doctor is not present in most side-stories. This is fantastic and leads to the second aspect I appreciate.

This second aspect is that the cast has legs to stand on without needing the protagonist or POV character. You'd think this is a problem mostly limited to gacha games due to their usually flimsy narratives and structures, right? Except, this is actually a huge problem in pretty much every corner of narrative art! I can think of countless comics, manga, cartoons, anime, light novels, novels, and much more, eastern and western, that just tend to have worlds and casts that center entirely around the protagonist, for the protagonist. Whether it be a US author writing out their post-apocalyptic hoarder fantasy or a Japanese author detailing the trials and tribulations of a relatable nobody that a myriad of girls want to have sex with, and even some other pieces of art perhaps not so comically easy to make fun of, it's a consistent aspect of them that the protagonist is the center of the universe, both in terms of events and what the rest of cast thinks about, talks about, and takes action upon. Obviously, this results, in my opinion, in weak worlds and weak casts that have no legs to stand on. I appreciate that even without Doctor around, Arknights does a good job of having protagonists of their own little stories in the side stories: Olivia Silence is a joy to follow when she takes the lead in a Rhine Lab story, Kroos has been one of my favorite characters to be able to experience events through with the Sui stories, Skadi and the Abyssal Hunters are exciting to watch in Abyssal Hunter stories, and the latest event as of the writing of this post filled me inspiration, seeing Reed star in a character piece that tells us more about someone so immensely reticent to open up. It's by having interesting world events occurring throughout Terra that don't have the input of Doctor, and thus lets us see more and more of this huge cast of characters taking the lead that I think is a fascinating experience for me as a reader that keeps things fresh. It's even allowed me to come to appreciate characters I initially didn't care about, such as Bagpipe and Magallan, and see, in most games of this nature, if I don't care about a character frame one, it's probably going to stay that way because, well, if I didn't care about what their limited assortment of pre-cooked lines had to sell me on, then I'm likely not going to care about that character likely not showing me a new aspect of themselves impactful enough to change my mind in an event they'll likely just be an accessory to.

It's upon this base that I think Arknights stays interesting and fresh: A solid foundation that I can agree with and that keeps things dynamic and interesting. Specific events and story beats that I think are interesting are a natural result of these baseline aspects, but it all traces back to the cradle, to these baseline aspects that facilitate those cool narratives in the first place.

[munsonsreputation]

FEBRUARY'S BLANKSPACE

FIC RECS

hi everyone, as the month of february comes to an end, i think it’s only appropriate that i give you a list of works that i’ve been reading and obsessed with this month! it’s even more important that we show love to all the writers out there who forge these unique stories and even allow readers to request their very own smutty, fluffy, and/or angsty ideas that turn into amazing creations because of these talented writers.

please be sure to show these writers some love by interacting with their works: reblogging, leaving comments, and tags. all the love and kindness will mean the world to them!!!!

📌: fave | 🫀: fluff | 🪡: angst | 🕯: smut

STEVE HARRINGTON FICS

Friday by @softharrington 🫀🪡📌

first off, casper is an amazing writer. second, this story literally broke my heart then mended it back together all at once. please please give this a read, so many emotions and it’s soooo well written

Single Thread by @keeryshouse 🫀

i’ve seen a bunch of spiderman!steve ideas and fics floating around tumblr and this has to be one of my favorites. you cannot tell me that steve harrington isn’t spiderman coded as fuck!!! the friends to lovers trope woven with the scared to hurt reader will always always be my guilty pleasure. anna, the amazing writer is also planning on writing some more parts to this so go and check it out!!!

This request by @sattlersquarry 🫀

i am a SUCKER for Hopper!reader, I think it’s so sweet and to think El would have another sibling besides Will and Jonathan her step bros are really cute. Moving on, the little quirks and expressions in this imagine is so so so sweet!!

This request by @stevebabey 🫀📌

holy shit this is so fluffy…I feel like I’m in freshman year experiencing my first kiss all over again. First of all, the comparing hand size trick ALWAYS works. It will never fail. And this amazing fucking piece of work will never make me fail to blush and smile like I have a crush!!!!

Love Letters: Day Five by @upsidedownwithsteve 🫀

one bed trope will always have me in a chokehold. This fic does an amazing job at encapsulating the feeling to the nervousness but also the soften that two people share when they are obviously into each other. and of course, eddie is always a little shit, but i love the appearance that him and all the other characters make here!!!

This request by @newlips 🫀

this one is room-mates to lovers, and as someone who hates storms this is filling my giddy heart with so much warmth and comfort. while i have no one to cuddle with while it’s raining, i’d like to think that steve would totally cuddle me throughout those storming nights!!!

Glue by @gorgeousgetawaycar 🫀📌

steve picking up the snacks for movie night is such a him thing to do. in my head, i’d like to think that after baker!reader and steve start dating a little longer, he’d invite her to movie night OR EVEN BETTER…she invites them over to her place (or steve’s) and the house is filled with the sweet treats she has baking for his friends. eventually they all come to fall in love with her and her baking, and steve falls even harder for her. yeah, this is so sweet, it’s like my personal self insert, and i love it so so much!! everyone who loves baking better go read this and if you don’t like baking just pretend you do!!!!

Lay All Your Love On Me by @lovebugism 🕯📌

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, OH MY WORD, I AM SCREAMING! never in a million years did i think i’d need stancy x reader SMUT, but this….this rocked my fucking world. steve is so in love with reader and nancy, i actually cannot even. everyone better go read this and melt. thanks bug, for writing this fucking absolute masterpiece, ily!!!!!!

Scoops Ahoy by @tiredfangirlsworld 🫀

gosh, imagine if steve never worked at scoops…we would have been deprived of sailor!steve, but nevertheless we prevailed in this little imagine. first off, robin always cracks me the fuck up, her character is so funny without even trying and this writer does a great job at setting the scene of the friendship that reader and her have, along with steve in the mix. i totally agree with reader here, the sailor getup is totally a good look for steve and i wish we could’ve gotten a commercial for s3 promo!!!!

Just The Two Of Us by @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint 🫀 🪡

you would expect it to be extremely smutty and filthy, but this is smutty but soft and kind. i actually really really love this fic as it focused more on reader and steve rather than reader, steve, and the audience watching. they’re giggly and want to know how to pleasure one another, ah-ma-zing read!!!!!!!!

This request by @familyvideostevie 🫀

this is such a simple yet sweet sweet concept. it’s totally something that i think would happen in the stranger things universe. dustin and steve’s dynamic is also written SO well—those two go back and forth and despite his age, steve knows that dustin is a genius. i also feel like steve and reader hit it off and eventually date and dustin would parade around hawkins saying some shit like “yeah you see those two! i made that shit happen!”

This request by @luveline 🫀📌

goddamnit i am an absolute whore for domestic fluff (we need more of it tbh). the way that reader and steve interact and talk about the simplest things while cooking dinner is so fucking relatable. it’s the twinge of domesticity and i feel like all of us crave in a relationship. just someone to talk to while we do the most mundane things, but it’s special because we’re doing it with the one we love. i love this so much, go read it rn!!!!!

Bestfriend!Steve by @sweeteststevie 🫀 🪡

ok wow, this one really touched my heart and steve is such a sweetheart. he doesn’t try to poke and prode, but just lets reader talks and allows her to answer what she feels comfortable. i love this so so so much and the gentleness they share is so fucking sweet!!!!

Reminiscence by @caxde🫀 🪡

oh to go from exs to lovers in a snap, this would be a dream! the fact that reader and steve never stopped loving each other—i also wish for that kind of hope and love in my own life, but i’m not sure i could possibly bear it so through fics it is! i love how steve and reader remember their little “voodoo” thing while she’s patching him up. it’s so cute and another way of saying they never forgot one another!!!!

Valentine’s Day by @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep 🫀 🪡

their confession made me so soft omg. reader is so relatable and i think we’ve got to shed the light on unexperienced!reader, there is no shame and if anything steve would totally make you feel safe and comfortable!!! he’s so gentle with reader and i would die for this man!!!

Love In The Dark I (ongoing series) by @xspeter 🪡

ahhhhh i love this take on s4 but from mayfield!sister perspective. also the nightmares things are so realistic and it almost feels at through the readers are realizing it is a dream as we read. this is currently an ongoing mini series so be on the look out for the next part! i’m so excited to read part II!!!!

Forever Winter by @new-romqntics 🫀 🪡📌

first of all, i love cleo sm!!! this is one of my comfort fluffs that i revisit time and time again. i think that recognizing self doubt and worries is something that it vulnerable yet beautiful because it can open doors and especially the heart. i love how steve doesn’t try to “fix” reader but just wants to help!!! ilovesoftsteviesm <3

EDDIE MUNSON FICS

Illicit Affairs by @lilacletter 🕯📌

ohmyfuckingod…when i read this, i kid you not…i buried my face into my pillowed and squealed!!!!! first and foremost, autumn is one of the most incredible writers and i have had the pleasure of reading her works. reading her writing is almost like seeing the events take place in my head, her attention to detail and just everything is so incredible. this is smut and you’ll definitely enjoy it #ilovedilfs <3

This request by @lucasnclair 🫀

when i tell you i am shy!reader, i mean that!!! this is totally what it feels like to be so enamored and in love with someone, so much so that you are so shy, but they know just the right way to crack you out of that shell without making you feel embarrassed. i go back to this every time and it’s soooo sweet and gentle!!!!

Cherry Wine by @cinemaquinn 🕯

everyone knows that fluffy smut is always a hit. i love the way this is is written and the fact that there is no shame in being a virgin and the way that eddie just assures reader through everything. i love this so much and it has a very very special place in my heart muah!!!!

This request by @ddejavvu 🫀📌

exterminator!eddie is not a concept i thought i needed in life, but this shit was so cute and funny. also mei/daisy’s authors note in the beginning of the imagine made me giggle so that’s a plus! also eddie just holding the fucking snake and wayne needing to rip it out of his hands made me LOL so hard. i feel like reader and eddie would’ve gotten to know each other better during the ride to the hospital and in the emergency room too. he’d probably offer a date to make up for it and from then on our they’re together and reader is just like, “yeah he might not have gotten all the snakes but he did get my heart.”

Twenty Four Hours (ongoing series) by @ghost-proofbaby 🪡📌

holy shit this slow burn eats me up every single time i read it!!! this is a modern!au and i love the way that is is depicted through the writing: everything from the photo proof and group chat messages are a really good addition to the story!!! i read hour six a few little while ago and OH MY GOD….SO SO SO GOOD!! i don’t want to spoil it so everyone go and read it and let’s enjoy the rest of the series together!!!!

In Bloom by @suncatcherss 🫀 🪡

HOLY FUCK I AM CRYING. this is a mixture of a teeny tiny angst with a whole lotta fluff. the way that reader and eddie are so smitten for each other and do not even get me started on the fact that eddie gifted her the fucking rose!!!! stop!! and then he says “i want to introduce my best girls to each other” …. SOBBING. THIS IS TOO FUCKING SWEET!!!!

All Mine by @hard-candy-writing 🕯

OLDER!EDDIE AHHHHHHHH!!!!! this fic absolutely made me melt…the writing is just incredible and their dynamic works so well. AND THE PIERCING ON HIS **** AND THE WAY HE MAKES HER CALL HER DATE AND BREAKUP WHILE HE …. YEAH, YOU READ THAT RIGHT!!! i don’t want to spoil this smutty goodness, so everyone go and read this rn!!!!!

This request by @mirkwoodmunson 🫀

i always thought eddie would be the goof to scarf down sprinkles of all things because he’s too lazy to fix himself something good…but now that i think about it, that man probably gets HELLA munchies and is a pro and cooking something fast and easy. he can’t stand not having an actual meal and this was so funny and light-hearted!!!!

Devil & Angel AU (steddie x reader) by @thyme-in-a-bubble 🕯📌

GUYS….THIS AU IS SO FUCKING FILTY AND I LOVE IT TO PEICES! ok first of all, i came across this au a few days ago and since they i’ve been HOOKED!!! i believe lea is continuing to add to this AU as she gets more ideas and asks about it, so keep an eye out for more imagines and blurbs regarding this AU!!!

Safe With Me by @singularattitudeofasafetypin 🫀

eddie’s headass defintely drives like a fucking maniac, but OMG he’s so soft for reader. this made me so warm inside and he’s just so sweet. eddie would probably get some shit from the kids because they need to get wherever the fuck they’re going QUICKLY…but i bet you reader gifted eddie one of those keychains that says “drive safe, i need you here,” and he just looks at it and doesn’t give a shit about the kids complaining because he wants to be here for you always. YEAH OK IM A FLUFF WHORE GO READ THIS!!!

The Customer’s Always Right (ongoing series) by @lovebugism 🫀🕯📌

I AM OBSESSSED AND I MEAN OBSESSED WITH THIS SERIES!!!! virgin!eddie is so soft for reader and doesn’t give a fuck about her reputation and i love this so much. i also really really really love how reader is written in a way that shows that she’s always been searching for this REAL DEEP infatuation and love that she had for eddie!! go read this rn because it’s so fucking good, GO GO GO!!!!!

This request by @roanniom 🫀🕯

EDDIE WOULD SO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!!! that men is such an in love menace and him hiding to surprise her is SUCH A HIM THNG TO DO!!! he definitely planned the whole thing out a few days prior and even made sure to call in to get you the day off. this man is romantic his own way!!!

Husband? by @corals-library 🫀

i have this feeling that eddie would die to have you call him your husband!! he would get such a kick out of it and love the way it makes him feel—he would call you his wife all the time, and the kids would call you both mom and dad hahaha!! yeah this is so fluffy and cute and i just know eddie talks to wayne the next day and ask him opinions of rings <3

Three Men And A Baby by @munsonsduchess 🫀📌

GUYS GUYS GUYS, I LOVE THIS!! first off, “rosie posie?!?!” THE NICKNAME EDDIE HAS FOR HIS LITTLE GIRL IS SO ADORABLE. also my guilty pleasure is when writers include other characters within the story…idk i think it’s a nice little treat to see how they interact with each other and whatnot. i love the fact that eddie can just call up hopper for help and even goes to karen!! we need to see more karen y’all!!! <3

Until I Found You by @crrddcffn 🫀📌

fuck this made me so soft…shy!reader needs more attention and i love this so fucking much. i love that reader just goes for it and calls him cute and is kinda shocked by it at first, nevertheless it all works out. they’re so adorable and i would to read more about shy!reader and eddie in the future!!!

Bets, Deals, and Favors (series tba) by @pinkrelish 🪡

I READ THIS A FEW DAYS AGO AND IT HAS ME FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR MORE!!!! I don’t want to say TOO much because this is a beauty that speaks and reads for itself, but just know it’s gonna get spicy and i love that harrington plays the mediator hahahaha.

This request by @forourmoons 🫀📌

EDDIE YOU FUCKING CHARMER!!!! i swear to god this man is so head over heels for his girl that he literally does not give a shit about the looks he gets. he knows reader probably hates feeling everyone’s eyes on her and he sees her start to go down and he’s just like “fuck it, here i go!” HE DOESN’T CARE BECAUSE HE’S WITH READER AND HE’D DO ANYTHING FOR HER! fuck this is so fluffy, i need this man!!

happy reading & thank you to all the writers for taking the time to share your creativity with the world, and thank you to the readers for keeping our love for writing alive!!!! 💘💘💘

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Five - P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader, AND A SURPRISE!!!

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), mentions of misogynistic thoughts and self doubt, not really graphic, but describes the sound of what doing CPR could lead to, not proofread, angst, badly written medical terminology, etc.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ A/N: I also did this on mobile, so I will format it better if need be tomorrow morning on my laptop!

♡ 8.3k words

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Qualifying, Silverstone

The paddock once again was absolute chaos as you entered it. There were more cameras than you could count and more people flocking to ask you what seemed like the same seven questions. Being at Silverstone meant a lot for Mercedes, but even more now since Lewis Hamilton still could not race due to personal matters. He had missed the past four races, and to miss his home race was sure to add insult to injury.

And a majority of yourself felt terribly, because you were at an all time high. You and Mick scored second and third place in Monaco. In Canada, Mick scored his maiden grand prix win - a literal first for him. But the highs didn’t end there as Spain rounded its pretty face.

As the first female reserve driver, and now having to take over Lewis’ spot while he’s absent, the pressure was higher than ever. At the Aramco GP, Mick again scored first and you second. Mercedes hadn’t see ‘One-Two’ victories like this in a very long time.

But there was nothing to compare to the feeling of winning your first maiden grand prix when the Austrian Grand Prix came to you. In a stunning act of grit and perseverance, you managed to edge out Mick for first place. You don’t think you could ever have topped that feeling while the United States’ National Anthem wrung out at the racetrack. Soon, your DMs and socials were being flooded with girls and women that were inspired by not only you, a woman in motorsport, but a winning and successful one. You couldn’t help but feel moved and ecstatic that you finally had an impact on the world. And if anything, you wanted that to be your legacy.

“You and Mick have had an excellent run these last few races. How are you feeling going into Silverstone and does the weather affect your confidence at all?” The interviewer sat across from you with a polite smile on her face.

“Thanks so much,” You began with a wide smile. “I think if you’re in the UK this kind of weather is to be expected, so I don’t know if I’m really shaken about it - But, obviously the wet weather poses more issues than solutions, but I think we’re both confident in our abilities as individuals, and as a team.”

She asked you a few more questions and after the interview was done, you knew you had to get ready for qualifying. You headed to your driver’s room only to find an all too familiar blond haired boy waiting for you.

“Don’t you have your own room, Mick?”

Your friend opened your driver’s room door and allowed you to step into it first. Closing it softly behind him, he took a quick scan of the room.

“Yes, but I don’t like the thought of you being all the way over here by yourself.”

Ever since your father had come back about a month ago, Mick had grown even more protective of you. And you really didn’t mind it; you knew there was no arguing with him about that. You’d see him stealing glances at you during press interviews, and keeping an extra eye on you as you went to the Mercedes motor home for a coffee. You couldn’t blame him.

“Hopefully the rain lets up tomorrow…” You mumbled as you sorted out your fireproofs and race suit. “I don’t think it will though.”

“Probably not…” Mick straightened his posture in the chair provided in the room. “It will be your first race in the rain, Smidge.”

“So?” You shrugged, putting on your clothes.

Your bruises had healed quite nicely and thankfully, before your next race no one had inquired about your cheek. You had a slight inclination to feel as though a boy named Mick had something to do with that…

“Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich (I’m worried about you).” Mick stopped you as you finished zipping up your suit, his suit already tied and hanging at his waist.

Looking down at where he sat, he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You reached with your free hand and moved some of his hair. Mick hummed happily as you moved your hand down to his cheek, caressing it reassuringly.

“Du machst dir immer Sorgen um mich (You’re always worried about me).” Mick shrugged in relinquishment, then stood to his feet and kissing the top of your head. You relished in what little privacy the tiny room gave you.

Between all the cameras, fans, interviews, and paparazzi - You two seldom had private moments together since your team’s winning streak began. Enjoying each other’s company in the quiet and stillness of your driver’s room, you leaned your head up against his chest, the steady beating of his heart giving you more than just comfort. As you inhaled the smell of his cologne, you made a mental note to save this moment for a rainy day.

“We should get going, or else people are going to get suspicious.” You finally pulled yourself away from him.

“Schätzen, people already think we are secretly married or leaders of a cult or something. I do not think us being absent from the paddock for five minutes will make them think any differently than they already do.” Mick let out a soft laugh as he opened the door again for you. Strutting out, you both went to your perspective sides of the garage to prepare for qualifying.

And as it came to be, you qualified fourth while Mick qualified second position. Your grid-mate Max Verstappen qualified with pole position. Overall, you and the Mercedes team felt quite confident for tomorrow’s race. Despite the inclement weather, everyone was excited for Silverstone as well as wishing Lewis was here as well. It was a weird and contradictory feeling that almost everyone had, too. This was his home race and being unable to race in it after not missing it for years, just had to be gut wrenching. But like Mick said, if it weren’t a serious issue, Lewis would have raced. And in truth and maybe a little bit of guilt, you had spoken to Lewis a few times asking him how he was doing and if he was okay. Always the gentleman, he reassured you that of all people, he would want you to be the one to take his place and that nobody but you deserved his seat - even if it was temporary.

You truly didn’t feel as though you deserved the friendship he’s was offering you and the encouragement he so freely gave. Yet, your words always overflowed with gratitude to the best of your ability.

You changed out of your suit and fireproofs, and back into the clothes you came to the paddock in originally. Waiting for Mick to do the same, you decided to go to the motor home to grab one more coffee. About ten minutes later, a very panicked and surprisingly of breath Mick rushed by your side while you sipped on your coffee.

“Schätzen! What did I say about leaving without me? I do not want… I just… Please do not scare me like that again.” Mick licked his lips, hunched over the coffee bar counter as he tried to catch his breath. Mick ran a very anxious hand through his now, undone hair, slowing his breathing down. All you could do was grin at the disheveled boy in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Mickey… I was thirsty?” You made your last word a question, because you know that coffee was not the way to replenish your thirst, but you wanted to try your luck at convincing him anyway.

“Schätzen… That is… Coffee…” Mick’s total lack of amusement shown across his deadpan expression. “And not for lack of trying, but why are you having a coffee this late in the day?”

“For funsies.” You grinned again as the two of you began to walk towards his car.

“I do not know what a funsies is, but how are you going to get any sleep tonight?” Again, you shrugged nonchalantly trying your best not to laugh at him. “How am I going to get any sleep?”

"What does your sleeping patterns have to do with my consumption of a very thirst quenching coffee, I might add?"

“You will be up talking in my ear all night during your caffeine high, no?” Mick finally broke the silence as he filed into the driver’s seat after making sure you were comfortable.

“No! I will not be doing that, in fact, I am going to… Do the opposite of that.”

Mick made his way to the hotel room making certain that he did not make you car sick. He always thought it was very strange that you would get carsick sat in the passenger seat, but not while driving at 200mph. But that was one of the many, many things he adored about you. About twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the hotel and made your way into his suite. You insisted that you could sleep in your own room… Three doors down… But Mick was more persistent than you had the energy to argue with, and what could it hurt?

The night went on and you both had gotten ready for the long awaited sleep. Trying to hide your caffeine high, you played some stupid game on your phone as you waited for Mick to get off the phone with his mother. Soon, he strode in and stopped in the doorway. There you were again, the picture perfect image of the life he longed for that he always kept near to his heart. You hadn’t heard him come into the room. You were still trying to focus on whatever game had your attention.

Mick quietly leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, gleaming and glowing over the fact that he was going to share a bed with you. And sure, there have plenty of times the two of you have slept in the same bed, but there was a feeling pitting in the bottom of Mick’s stomach that he should pay extra attention to this exact moment. He didn’t know what it was, but most of the time his gut and instinct were right. You looked up from your phone and met eyes with Mick. His facial expression was soft and serene. Despite the tiredness you could see wafting off of his body, you too had that strange feeling in your stomach. His gray t-shirt clung nicely to his torso, while his navy blue sweats sat just so on his hips. It was as if you were taking a million mental pictures of this silent interaction between the two of you.

Mick made his way to the side of the bed you had cleared for him. You awaited for him to get settled before tucking yourself safely underneath his arm. Mick hummed happily to himself as he began to feel sleep take over his body, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with each blink. Wrapping yourself tightly around him, intertwining your legs with his, you extended your neck as far as it could go to try and kiss his check, only for you to land on his jaw. His jaw pulsated in response and you could feel the breath catch in his chest. You. never wanted to forget this and you hoped that he wouldn’t either.

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Race Day, Silverstone

You took several deep breaths, exhaling as slowly as you could. It was indeed raining outside, which would make this race harder than usual… But also more dangerous. The famous Maggots, Becketts and Chapel turns hounded and clouded both your vision and your mind as you did your best to center yourself. You truly wanted to make not only Lewis proud, but yourself proud. Finally feeling grounded enough, you put your race suit on and made your way out to the garage.

You spotted Mick talking to his engineer out of the corner of your eye, hoping he caught you with his - knowing he would want to make sure you were alright, even if he couldn’t talk to you at that very second. Managing to get a few more stretches in, it was time for you to enter your car. From where you were sitting in the garage, you could tell that it was raining hard, but not hard enough for them to stop the race completely. Which had to mean the race conditions were safe enough for the drivers, which meant you felt immediately more relieved than you did ten minutes ago. Soon, it was time for the driver’s to line up for their formation lap. You could see Mick’s car two positions ahead of you, and you could almost hear him talking to himself you knew him that well. The lights went off and the formation lap began.

It wasn’t a terrible lap either, but you definitely could feel a difference in the way that the car handled in wet conditions versus when it is a dry race. And you were indeed reminded of so when you could feel the grip of your tires not performing the way you wanted them to even during the formation lap. You didn’t want anything to stop you from this race though, so you put that thought behind you. It was just rain after all. Taking one last deep breath, you focused on the lights ahead of you turning green - and away everyone went.

Lap 14

You were having trouble with your car, but not enough to want to retire it. It seemed like many other drivers were having issues after realizing just how rainy it was. Still, you persisted and managed to edge your way up to P3, while Mick held a steady pace behind Max. You were doing your best to fend off Daniel behind you.

Lap 22

Eight laps later and Mick had overtaken Max to claim P1. You were still holding strong at P3, which you really didn’t mind. If you could keep the pace you were going until the end of the race, you’d get a podium and you’d get points. And that’s all you could think about as you began lap 23.

That was until Max had dodged something on the track unexpectedly, and because of the rain you couldn’t react as fast as you needed or even see what it was that he was evading. The tires underneath you were not gripping the pavement below them either. And being that you were just behind him during the Maggots, Becketts, and Chapel you really tried your best to keep focused on the race. Max did his best and swerved out of the way of the debris, but you were not so fortunate. Maybe it was because you were a female and you didn’t have as fast of reflexes as a man… Or maybe it was because you didn’t train hard enough to be prepared for such a wet race. Or maybe it was just simply bad fucking luck.

Max expertly swerved and managed to save his car and maintain his safety, but he ended up clipping the right corner of Mick’s rear wing. Mick spun slightly out of track limits and hit the barrier as he was on the straight now.

“Mick, you alright?” Mick’s race engineer could be heard on the radio.

“Yeah, just fine. Sorry about the car.” Mick sat quietly in his vehicle for a moment, honestly only feeling a bit of whiplash.

Mick quickly exited the vehicle and made his way over to the safe side of the barrier.

Seconds later, he could hear the unmistakable noise of a high speed crash. Fairly close to him too. He crouched down and put his arms over his head instinctually even though he was still wearing his helmet. He didn’t know what had just happened.

You attempted to also swerve to avoid whatever Max was avoiding, but you had lost all control of the car, and vision of the racetrack in front of you. The rain was heavily falling and if only your visor had tiny little windshield wipers, maybe the entire thing could’ve been steered cleared from originally. Seriously struggling to keep your car on the ground, something must’ve happened between the time you tried to steer into the infamous turn, and when you tried to steer away from the barrier.

You couldn’t see or feel anything, but the car flipping at least twice while you were still in it. The G-Force was so great you could feel yourself almost immediately passing out from it. Then you had hit something else besides the barrier… Something like a car.

“Can we know your status? Can you talk to us?” Your race engineer had repeated your name, trying to get your attention. You couldn’t figure out where you were or even what to say as you felt an overwhelming dizziness take over you.

“Okay, red flag. There’s been a crash. Red flag. Red flag everybody, please return to the pit lane for now.”

The audience could overhear every single driver’s engineer tell them the same thing. All the drivers wanted to know was who crashed. As the individual drivers began to return to the pit lane, there were several of them that had to drive past you to get there. Soon, silence and quiet so thick and looming fell over the entire racetrack. Even the grandstands were silent.

Mick finally stood up from where he was crouched, also attempting to make sense of what happened. He knew he would get fined if he went back onto the track, but truly the person who could’ve possibly crashed that soon after him… That wasn’t Max… Because he saw Max drive past him after he crashed into the barrier… Would have been…

Faster than he had ever ran before, he sprinted to where your car was hanging sideways and partly upside on the barrier. He didn’t care about any fines or penalties as he hastily scanned the cockpit of your car for any signs of injury. Motionless, you slightly hung with your helmet weighing your head down. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, or move you. He wasn’t a professional and he didn’t want to hurt you any further… But his heart seemed to break into billions of pieces when he saw you there as lifeless as you were. He removed his helmet, to try and get a better look at your status.

The rain was pouring harder, but Mick remained unmoved as he waited for emergency service to get to you. He was soaking wet, and probably very cold… But he didn’t notice. And what seemed like in no time at all, they finally arrived and started to assess the situation and the best way to get you out of your very damaged car. Mick stood idly by, doing his best to not get in their way. He knew for a fact he’d be riding with you to whatever hospital they were going to take you to, but the anticipating and the painstaking slow process of trying to rescue you was making him feel anxious and afraid.

“It looks like she broke her leg, maybe her arm too”

“Her helmet is a bit cracked on this side”

“Is she breathing?”

“Okay, on three, the two of you are going to release her belt, and then we will catch her”

“Is the gurney ready?”

“One… Two…”

“Three.”

The emergency service successfully lowered your body from where it had been hanging ever so slightly. Mick immediately was at your side as they put your unconscious body on the gurney. Mick had asked someone if he should remove your helmet, just in case it was obstructing your breathing, but they insisted that they would do that at the hospital. Mick could only trust them now. Climbing into the back of the ambulance with you, Mick scooted as closely as he they would allow him to while they hooked you up to the various monitors. Again, commotion started and Mick was demanded to move over so they could begin chest compressions.

Mick could hear the way your ribs broke underneath the weight of the man trying to save your life.

It was a sound he never wanted to hear again.

In record time, the ambulance reached the hospital, the man still doing compressions. The back doors flew open and the emergency room staff arrived at either side of you to begin triage.

“Sir, you’re going to have to wait in the lobby”

“Sir, you can’t come back here”

“Sir, we are going to do everything we can, but you need to give us room and head to the lobby”

“Sir, we will call security-“

Mick reluctantly conceded as he huffed out of the emergency room, only to catch your feet behind wheeled into some room. In a state of total shock and disbelief, he headed to the emergency room and approached the front desk.

“Hi… Hello… Emmmm… My friend was just admitted with serious injuries to your emergency room… Will there be any way I could receive… Emm… Updates?” Mick nervously tapped on the front desk, his race suit dripping water onto the floor. His hair had finally stopped dripping too as he waited for an answer. He could hum in anticipation.

“Are you related to this person?” The receptionist gave a polite smile.

“Emmmm, no. Not technically, but I am really all she has…” Mick pleaded with his big blue eyes to the receptionist, trying his best not to give up and cry in a ball on the floor.

“I’m sorry, sir. Unless you are family or her husband, then we really won’t be able to share information with you. But please, take a seat and we will do our best for her.” The receptionist motioned to the lobby behind Mick. It had a few people in it, which made Mick’s heart ache even more.

The driver thanked her and took a seat in the far corner. Sitting down, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He cursed to himself in German when he realized he didn’t even have his phone with him. Groaning, he put his head in his hands and covered his face with his now clammy palms. He truly didn’t know how much time had passed before he felt someone tapping on his shoulders. Mick rubbed his eyes and glanced up from where he sat.

“Hey… I uh, hope you don’t mind me being here. brought you your phone and like a change of clothes, and stuff… I thought you might want it.” The Australian accent permeated through the soundless lobby of the hospital. Daniel stood there with a slight smile. He was also still in his race suit.

“Oh god, thank you. I was just, uh, thinking about that.” Mick thanked the Aussie again, basically begging him to take a seat. To Mick’s surprise though, many more drivers, Toto and your race engineer, began to file into the lobby.

Mick stood to his feet and greeted everyone that had arrived with whispers of gratitude. He wished you knew and that he could tell you just how many people care about you. The drivers talked amongst themselves trying to recall what led up to that moment. Mick himself tried to get some answers. But to no avail, there wasn’t a solution to everyone’s current problem. The automatic doors opened once again and as if it were shot in slow motion, every single person’s head turned to the newest person joining the group of concerned drivers.

There were looks of worry, and some of disbelief exchanged throughout the lobby as everyone stayed still as they waited with bated breaths. Sure enough, Mick walked over to the man and pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I’m… Fuck, I’m so sorry, mate….” Max Verstappen was in the embrace of not only his fellow grid-mate, but his lifelong friend. The Dutch driver did his best to hide his tears of frustration at himself. Mick pulled away and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It could have happened to any of us, it is not your fault, I promise you.”

The other drivers and team members seemed to relax after the interaction between the German and Dutch driver. About an hour maybe two later, Mick said more goodbyes and more thank you’s to the people who came by, but needed to leave to finish up their own reports and debriefings of the now canceled race. Daniel stayed behind to keep Mick company. As close as Daniel was with you, he couldn’t imagine how this was affecting your best friend… Or rather, your soulmate. Daniel in true form, cracked some jokes here and there trying to ease the tension. And Mick did his best to reciprocate in kind.

Four hours later, Daniel was fast asleep as he had head leaned up against the hospital wall and his arms folded over his chest. Mick tried to get some shut eye as well, but at any moment he could have news about you. The German driver once more heard the automatic doors open and now to his astonishment, an all too familiar face entered.

“Lewis? Wha-What are you doing here?” Mick brought Lewis in for a tight hug.

“I saw the crash and heard the news, I was a bit far, but I drove as fast as I legally could to get here.” Mick remained silent. “I’m so sorry, Mate. That… It really should’ve been me.”

“For Schumacher?” The nurse spoke aloud as she held her clipboard tightly to her chest, looking around the room for anyone that might respond.

Lewis and Daniel traded extremely confused looks, while Mick just stood there awkwardly, trying to process if he heard the nurse correctly. Again, she repeated herself.

“Schumacher…?” Daniel half whispered/mouthed and half said aloud with a chuckle. The nurse just nodded. Daniel ended up having to elbow Mick to get him to snap out of it.

“Right, oh so sorry. I am Mick. Schumacher. Mick Schumacher!”

Even if the boy had been trained by PR his entire life, it definitely did not show now as he timidly stepped towards the nurse.

“Lovely. Please come with me, Mr. Schumacher.”

Before Mick followed the nurse, he jogged back to Daniel and whispered something in his ear that was inaudible to the Brit.

“Don’t let her dad anywhere near this hospital.” Daniel just nodded in response, going over all the ways he was going to prevent that from happening while Mick was busy. Daniel frankly, would rather eat snails before he let your dad near you.

Mick followed the nurse to some room of the hospital. You weren’t in it, so Mick didn’t quite care for it.

“Hello, my name is Carly and I am one of the nurses here. We see you are here for…” Carly searched the clipboard as fast as she could for your name. Saying it out loud making sure she got it right, she put the clipboard down. “She sustained many injuries during her crash, all of which the doctor on call will go over with you very shortly. I am just here to get you to sign a few papers.”

“What do I have to sign? I will be paying for every medical bill she has, that is not an issue.” Mick stated as a matter of fact while she put the pen down in front of him.

“That’s good to hear, but this is just more of a legal thing. We need your signature on these three papers indicating that you were made aware, consented to, and further agreed that you are now her official medical proxy.”

“Me? But we are not married or anything.” If he wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell is now.

“Right, well you don’t have to be married to be named someone’s medical proxy if they named you legally in the case of not being able to make proper medical decisions of their own volition.” The blond haired boy listened intently as she continued. “Legally, she has named you her medical proxy for all decisions relating to her care, and if needed end of life care.”

Mick continued to ask questions, but of course he signed what needed to be signed. The nurse thanked him for his time and instructed him to wait for the doctor to arrive shortly. Mick pulled out his phone and replied to a few people before he heard the door open again.

“Hi, Mr. Schumacher, I’m Doctor Collins and I am the on call ER doctor. This is the on call ER surgeon, Doctor Wyatt.” The two doctors shook hands and took their seats across from the troubled boy. Mick’s anxiety once again began to rise.

“We want to be as honest with you as possible, because if it were our loved one we wouldn’t someone beating around the bush.” Doctor Collins cleared his throat and took out some x-rays, while Mick only could nod in response, frozen in fear. “She sustained a broken leg in four places, her arm in two, and some broken ribs too. She also has a bruised spine.”

“I was able to put some rods in her leg to stabilize it while it heals, her arm in a cast , and as for broken ribs and a bruised spine, there’s not much to do about those except for pain management.”

All the medical jargon was causing Mick’s head to spin in circles as he tried to catch up to them. They went over your extensive injuries and did their best to be as docile, but straightforward as promised.

“We saw that her helmet was cracked when she came in, but until she wakes up, we won’t know if she has brain damage. Her CT and MRI both came back clean as of now.” Doctor Collins reiterated with the smallest sliver of hope tinged in his voice.

“All in all, we believe she will make a full recovery…” Doctor Wyatt began. Mick leaned forward in anticipation. “We did have to put her in a medically induced coma for now. The trauma to her body and the fact that crashed at such a high speed, is cause enough for it. And while it will help her leg and ribs heal… We unfortunately, wont know the full extent until she wakes.”

“How long will she have to be in that coma for, though?” After several minutes of receiving and attempting to retain the information being thrown at him, Mick finally spoke up, his voice small and scared.

“We’re unsure of that, really. It could be a few days, or a few weeks. The good news is that she does still have brain function. She does respond to stimuli, so the coma is really for her internal healing.”

Mick and the two doctors traded more information, finally allowing Mick to go and see you. They were exactly as you said you would be, your leg propped up with absolutely ghastly rods sticking out of it. Your arm was elevated with a pillow as it lay snuggly in its blue cast. You were attached to a ventilator, your eyes closed. Even so, you looked so peaceful, more peaceful than Mick had ever seen you. Mick tiptoed into the room, pulling a chair beside the left side of you. His eyes couldn’t help but tear up at the sight. They moved up and down your again, broken body as he shuddered with sadness and fear. Your body was never meant to look like this… It was the most beautiful thing Mick had ever seen, and yet here you were… You were still beautiful, by god were you, but you didn’t deserve any of this.

“The doctors said that you might be able to hear me… Even though you are… Sleeping,” Mick wiped the tears from his cheeks. He sniffled trying to keep his composure. You were all he had. “I just wanted to tell you that you will never be alone while you are here. I do not care if I end up having such bad body odor, I am not leaving!” Mick laughed to himself knowing that someone was going to eventually make him leave and shower.

“Oh, Smidge… Smidge, what have we done?” Mick’s voice went just above a whisper. “I keep saying I am going to protect you, but I never have been able to… But if you can hear me… Just know that… Just know that I am going to be here for you.”

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A week went by and true to his word, Mick only would go to his hotel room to shower and change clothes. You had many visitors, too. Mick’s mother and his sister often came by when it was time for Mick to rest. The other members of the current grid had sent you numerous bouquets of flowers, with Daniel and Lewis visiting you when they could. Mick had also announced that until you were better, he wouldn’t be driving and that there was an entirely new team for Mercedes. They showed great potential and everyone was thrilled to see what they could do.

Mick was startled awake by someone knocking on the door. Mick did a quick stretch and went to the door. To his delight, someone very special stood there with a bouquet of giant sunflowers.

“Uncle Sebastian! What on earth are you doing here?” Mick brought him into a close embrace, holding him closely for several seconds. Gesturing for him to come into your room, Mick thanked him for the flowers and put them aside.

“I guess flowers weren’t the most original idea.” Sebastian Vettel, four time world champion, smiled widely at the wide variety of bouquets that crowded one corner of your hospital room.

“Oh, please, you know she loves flowers and that sunflowers are her favorite. See, there are no other sunflowers here.” Mick put the sunflowers down and turned to face his closest family friend. Pulling out another chair for him, they both sat beside you. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see her and maybe spend some time with her. And of course, to check on you.” Sebastian did his best to keep his expression neutral as he looked at your healing, but still wounded body.

“Did my mother send you?” Mick was only half joking, because his entire other half already knew the answer.

“Would you be surprised if I said yes?” Sebastian and Mick spoke for another handful of minutes, catching up and making sure each of their family’s were doing well.

“So what are you really doing here, Seb?” Mick finally felt brave enough to ask. Sebastian just smiled again, looking over at his friend.

“I’m here to take over for a few days. You need to get sleep that’s not in a hospital cot, and you need to eat something that’s not hospital food.” Deep down inside Mick knew this was a losing battle. “I watched her grow up, you know? I want nothing more than to sit with her and watch her heal now.”

With some hopeless arguing, Mick started to gather his things.

“Seb, do you think I could… Just have a few seconds with her? I just want to tell her that I will not be here for a few days.”

Sebastian pulled out his phone and decided to call his wife back home while Mick said goodbye. Mick made his way over to your bedside once again, and grabbed your hand.

“Schätzen… It seems as though I’m being forced out for a few days,” Mick let out a chuckle. “But I am just a phone call away, and even better - Uncle Seb is going to be here! I remember how much you love him… So, that will be fine…” The youngest Schumacher was finding it exceedingly difficult to leave you.

What if you woke up and he wasn’t here? What if you didn’t wake up and he wasn’t here? His mind was plagued with thought after thought as he mustered up enough courage to say goodbye. Placing a longing kiss on your temple, he exited the hospital room.

“Call me if there are any changes, even if they are small.” Sebastian pulled his friend into a hug and reassured him again. Mick took one last look at you before heading down the long corridor.

Sebastian headed back into your room, getting comfortable in the chair beside you. He hummed to himself as he relaxed the best that he could. Maybe that’s where Mick picked it up from… Sebastian grabbed his backpack off of the ground and rummaged through it for a few minutes. Finally, he pulled out The Fellowship of The Ring which was one of your favorite books. Sebastian debated reading to you in German, but he decided against it because trying to translate J. R. R. Tolkien was far too much effort than he wanted to put in this evening. He just hoped and prayed that Mick could get some much deserved rest.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton”

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Three days had passed and Mick was due back any minute now. Sebastian truly loved the time he got to spend to you as he read your favorite books, and got to recall some of the fondest racing memories he had. He hadn’t told you some of the stories in a very long time, and some not at all before then. You always saw him as someone you could look up to, and the fangirl in you wouldn’t believe that four time world champion was reading The Lord of The Rings to you of all people.

Mick Schumacher walked up to the room door, knocking politely as to not to startle Sebastian. Mick pressed on at the welcome of Sebastian voice. Your bruising was much better, and even though you were still comatose, Mick could tell just by looking at you that you were in fact healing quite nicely.

“She was wonderful company. She quizzed me on the entire F1 Grid once again.” Sebastian grinned and winked as he scooped up his belongings.

“Again, huh? You already beat everyone in Grill The Grid with that!” Mick teased elbowing his friend in the side.

Soon, the two friends exchanged goodbyes and Mick once again left alone with you. He sat in his normal spot, recounting his days “off” to you. There was still media coverage about your crash, but he managed to make sure that your privacy was respected and that no one outside himself and the hospital staff knew of your condition. He was still protecting you even when you couldn’t protect yourself.

Another two days had passed, and Mick was down in the cafeteria looking for some lunch. It was only until he was making his way to the elevators and back to your room, when his name was being called over the intercom. The entire hospital was looking for him, which meant only one of two things:

Either you were dead.

Or you were finally awake.

There was a steady beeping that you could notice, yet do nothing about. Your body felt absolutely frozen where you lay. And truth be told, you had little to no memory of how you got to this spot. Your eyes felt crusted with over tiredness and too much sleep. Your body for some reason too, felt like it had just been stampeded by a herd of antelopes - paralyzed by the fear of your autonomy being stripped from you. You had to know though where you were and you were going to do anything you could in order to force your eyelids open to see the world around you.

Ever so slowly you began (or attempted to at least) to relay messages to your brain to try and open your eyes. You could feel something irritating your throat, taking up all space in there for air and for swallowing whatever saliva you could possibly muster. This did not feel good. As your vision came finally into play, you were more confused than you were before you decided to end your stream of unconsciousness.

You were in a hospital room.

And you were pretty sure you were hooked up to a ventilator as well, considering the low and unwavering noise that they make ringing in your ears. You could recognize that sound anywhere. It was one of the last things you heard before your mother passed away… And how ironic would it be if it were the last thing you heard, too.

You began to viciously cough as your body awoke from its seemingly comatose existence. Your own body was rejecting whatever tube or mechanism was down your throat. You just wanted it out, and over with.

Get it out. Get it out. You repeated in your head, hoping someone would hear your thoughts. The previous steady beeping of the heart and vitals monitor began to pick up as you continued to panic. It was as if your body was on fire, but as much as you doused yourself with water, it persisted and began to seep into your skin. You couldn’t escape.

A few seconds later, you could hear someone yelling, but your auditory system had not caught up to whatever conundrum you had found yourself in currently. Your vision was still blurry, though you had been awake for what seemed like minutes. A cacophony of shouting and other words you didn’t understand surrounded you as your eyes darted from blurry figure to blurry figure. You tried your hardest to focus your vision and your breathing, but something inherently was stopping you.

“Push the morphine, we need to get her relaxed while we extubate her”

“Careful not to hurt her neck, we won’t know the stages of her injuries until we can talk to her”

“Okay, can you hear me? My name is Nurse Elsie, I’m going to be removing the tube in your throat”

“Just keep your eyes on me, I know it’s scary”

“Tube’s out, let’s get her propped up and her vitals rechecked”

“We’re going to call your friend in here now, too”

And just as quickly as you had to watch and feel this hospital staff tend to you, was just as quickly as your mind began to play tricks on you.

Minutes later, you thought your shitty vision was really messing with you now. You remained silent as they entered the room, a small glimmer of hope echoed in the lines creasing beside their eyes. This had to be heaven, it just had to be. You had finally passed and soon your mom would be striding in, too.

Coming into clear view, the blond haired boy grabbed your hand and gave it a minimal squeeze. He didn’t want to hurt you any further. He looked older than the last you remember him to be. The lines on his forehead apparent that he’s aged some. He was also more muscular, his hair longer than the short almost buzzed hair you could last recall that he had.

But as he leaned in, you could see how bright his blue eyes really were under the fluorescent hospital lights. Suddenly, you felt a calming wave of relief wash over you. All that was left to do now was figure out how the fuck you got into this situation. Moving some stray hairs behind your ear, the boy you have loved your entire life parted his lips with a small smile - filling your now working ears with the sweetest voice you’ve ever known.

“Smidge?”

You could hardly believe your eyes.

“Ja (Yes.)”

Mick’s smile just grew wider and wider as he heard your voice for the first time in almost two weeks. The nurses continued to check your vitals and did their best to work around a very thrilled Mick. You were frightened though, knowing that you were in a hospital but had no recollection of how you got there. Mick wasn’t able to sit beside you just yet, but as he hung back his eyes never moved from yours. After the nurses were all done checking your throat and your leg that still had the rods in it, a very official looking doctor walked in soon thereafter.

“Hello, it’s good to see you awake. My name is Doctor Reynolds, and I’ve been watching you and your progress for the last two weeks.” You remained staring at Mick for any type of advice. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions, just to kind of gauge where you are. Is that alright?” Your eyes went from person to person as you looked towards Mick for the go ahead. Mick simply gestured slightly and nodded. And you followed suit.

“Great, can you tell us your name?”

You did your best to talk, but your throat was killing you. You took your time as you very weakly pronounced it.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Im Krankenhaus, glaube ich (In the hospital, I think).”

Mick’s ears perked and his attention turned fully. You hardly ever spoke German to anyone else, but Mick. You were always afraid of making a fool out of yourself with such a seemingly difficult language. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed while he wrote something down.

“Right, okay. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Ich kann mich nur an bestimmte Dinge erinnern (I can only remember certain things).”

The doctor sighed as he turned to face Mick. Trying to keep it as hushed as possible, the doctor leaned in closer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know that much German. Do you think you could translate for me?”

“Of course… But why is she speaking German?”

“It’s hard to say, but maybe this is just her brain’s way of comforting her. She seems to know you, and seems to know that you know German. I think she’s trying to figure out a way to come back to earth, in a way.”

The pair spoke briefly some more as you waited for the doctor to return. You looked around the room and saw what had to be twenty different bouquets, cards, and gifts on the other side of the room. The sunflowers particularly caught your eye as you sat and wondered who might’ve given them to you. Eventually, Mick pulled a chair and sat between you and the doctor. He grabbed your hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“Alright. Do you remember anything before two weeks ago?” Mick translated the doctor’s question in German for you. You shook your head. “And how do you know Mick?”

“Ich kenne ihn aus der Schule (I know him from school).”

“Do you remember anything about your car crash two weeks ago?” Mick was doing his best to catch up with the two of you.

“Das Letzte, woran ich mich erinnere... Ich wollte, dass Mick mit mir zum Abschlussball geht… Das konnte er aber nicht, wegen eines seiner Formel-3-Rennen (The last thing I remember was when I wanted Mick to go to the prom with me, but he couldn’t because one of his Formula 3 races).”

Mick’s face dropped, his expression deeply saddened. He remembers how badly he wanted to take you, but he was just starting his new season and couldn’t afford to miss it at the time. But again, that was years ago, and the fact that you couldn’t remember anything since…

“Okay, last question and then I’ll let you get some more rest…” The doctor took a deep breath and sighed. Looking between the both of you, the doctor knew this was going to be a long journey, and there was absolutely no way of telling if this was retrograde amnesia or something more serious.

“Was ist die Frage (What is the question)?”

The doctor looked at the both of you, your hand wrapped tightly in Mick’s. With a faint smile, the doctor made his way to the door before turning on his heel.

“Are you comfortable with going home with Mick so you can recover at his house or is there someone else we want us to call?”

You took pause as Mick translated the question for you. Truly, you almost felt offended at the question. But again, you really were in no position to argue since you had rods sticking out of your leg and your arm in a cast. And certainly, there was probably a certain legal/liability reason behind it on the doctor's end. Taking one last look around your hospital room, you finally answered. And unbeknownst to you, it was the answer Mick Schumacher had been longing for you to say since the first time he laid a very confused, but adoring eye on you all those years ago.

“Yes…" You began in English, your throat dry and your voice coarse. "Er hält mein Herz in seinen Händen. Es gibt keinen Ort, an dem ich lieber sein könnte, als bei ihm zu sein (He holds my heart in his hands. There is nowhere I rather be, than be with him).”