#so as to not have a repeat of their first meeting and argument | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Text

pjs - Signed, Sealed & Undone. - Part 2

A TIME TRAVEL CONTRACT MARRIAGE FIC PART ONE HERE

Synopsis: Fake marriage proposals are a tired billionaire trope.

But when Jay Park—former golden boy of Park Industries, now chaebol exile—comes back from disgrace (and back in time), he’s got one goal: rewrite the past before it destroys him.

When you, an unassuming journalist with nothing to lose, get an offer of a lifetime, you’re sure it’s a mistake.

A contract, a relocation to Seoul, and one fake wedding later, you’re still trying to convince yourself none of this is real. The only problem? Neither of you seem to remember where the performance ends and something devastatingly real begins.

WC: 11K CW (18+ MDNI) : fake marriage, slow-burn romance, power dynamics, corporate intrigue, arranged marriage trope, emotional angst, unresolved sexual tension, longing glances across boardrooms, contract loopholes, financial manipulation, morally gray billionaire!Jay, forced proximity, family expectations, betrayal, public displays of affection (for the cameras, obviously), enemies-to-allies-to-lovers, suppressed feelings, business politics, one bed trope (but make it corporate), dramatic confessions, late-night whiskey-fueled arguments, high society drama, backhanded compliments as flirting, dramatic departures followed by even more dramatic returns, lingering touches that mean too much, feelings clause not included in the contract, deep intimacy, power dynamics in a romantic context, possessive tendencies (but soft), light dominance/submission themes, clothing being undone at a painfully slow pace, tension so thick it could shatter glass, breathless dialogue, interrupted kisses that lead to frustration, and the inevitable realization that this was never fake at all.

Your first meeting with the Parks was not what you expected.

Chairwoman Soo-min Park, Jay's mother, welcomed you in her minimalist office overlooking Seoul's skyline. Everything about the space proclaimed power—floor-to-ceiling windows, a desk carved from a single slab of marble, carefully curated art pieces that probably cost more than your entire education.

The woman herself matched her surroundings—elegant, precise, every silver-streaked hair perfectly in place. Her handshake was firm, her assessment clinical as she gestured for you to sit.

"So," she began without preamble, "you are the woman who captured my son's attention where so many have failed."

You felt Jay tense beside you. This was your first test.

"I believe we captured each other's attention, Mrs. Park," you replied evenly. "Sometimes connection happens where you least expect it."

Something flickered in her eyes—not warmth exactly, but perhaps respect.

Her questions were direct bordering on invasive. Your education. Your family background. Your career trajectory. With each answer, you maintained the same calm directness, refusing to be intimidated despite the butterflies in your stomach.

When she asked about your professional goals, you surprised yourself with your honesty.

"Journalism lets me uncover truths others miss," you said. "I value authenticity, even when it's uncomfortable."

"Authenticity," she repeated, glancing at her son. "A rare quality in our circles."

"That's what drew me to Y/N," Jay interjected, his hand finding yours. "Her perspective is... refreshing."

Chairwoman Park studied your joined hands for a moment. "You understand, of course, that marrying into the Park family comes with considerable scrutiny. Your life will not be your own."

"With respect, Chairwoman," you countered, "my life will always be my own. I'm choosing to share it with your son and, by extension, your family. But I won't disappear inside the Park name."

A loaded silence followed. Jay's grip tightened on yours—whether in warning or support, you couldn't tell.

Then, unexpectedly, Chairwoman Park smiled. Not broadly, but genuinely.

"Good," she said simply. "Jongseong needs someone who won't vanish into his shadow. Come, I'll show you to your quarters myself."

As she led you through the compound, Jay fell into step beside you, an almost imperceptible furrow between his brows.

"My mother never personally shows guests to their rooms," he whispered. "That's what staff is for."

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think she might actually like you."

The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

Your suite was breathtaking—traditional Korean elements blended with modern luxury. Adjacent to Jay's quarters but with your own entrance, exactly as promised in your contract.

"These were my grandmother's rooms," Jay explained after his mother left. "No one has used them since she passed. Not even guests."

"Is that significant?"

"Extremely. My grandmother was the family matriarch. The only person my mother genuinely respected." He ran his hand along an intricately carved wooden screen. "This is... unexpected."

That word—"unexpected"—became the theme of your first week in Seoul.

At family dinners, Jay's father questioned you extensively about American business practices, not dismissively but with genuine interest in your perspective. His uncle, who reportedly spoke only Korean in business settings on principle, made efforts to converse with you in English while praising your attempts at Korean phrases.

Most surprisingly, Jay's cousin Danny—initially the most skeptical about your sudden appearance—appointed himself your unofficial cultural guide.

"The press will tear you apart if you make certain mistakes," he explained, showing you how to properly pour drinks for elders and which honorifics to use with which family members. "Better you learn from family than from a public relations disaster."

Family. The word kept surfacing in unexpected contexts.

"Y/N is family now," Jay's father announced when authorizing your access to the private family wing of Park Industries headquarters. "She'll need to understand our operations."

"Family chooses wine together," his aunt insisted, inviting you to help select vintages for the wedding reception.

"Family protects its own," his mother stated when she discovered paparazzi had obtained your old address in New York. She immediately dispatched security to ensure your apartment was secure and your subletting friend undisturbed.

It was Danny who finally explained what was happening.

"They're closing ranks around you," he said during an impromptu shopping trip for traditional Korean accessories. "Not because they necessarily believe this whirlwind romance—"

"But they're acting like they do," you interjected, confused.

"Because Jay chose you," Danny said simply. "That's enough. If you're his, you're ours. The Pack protects its members."

"The Pack?"

"Family nickname. Not very subtle, I know." He grinned. "But accurate. We Parks might fight among ourselves, but against outsiders, we're unified."

You found yourself surprised by the Parks' fierce protectiveness. From Danny's explanations about family loyalty, it seemed at odds with the cutthroat business world they dominated.

Later, during a rare moment alone with Jay in the garden, you broached the subject.

"Your family is so... unified," you observed. "Different from what I expected."

Jay's expression turned pensive. "The Parks protect their own. That's always been the rule."

"And yet you seemed shocked by how they've embraced me."

He was quiet for a moment, staring at the stone path. "I've seen another side of them. In business, loyalty can shift suddenly when interests change. I've witnessed how quickly protection can turn to abandonment."

Something in his voice suggested personal experience—a wound not fully healed.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," you ventured carefully.

His jaw tightened. "Just cautious. The business world has taught me that today's allies can become tomorrow's executioners without warning."

He fell silent, tension radiating from his shoulders. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

"Well, you have me now," you said softly. "And I don't abandon contracts halfway through."

His smile was hesitant but real. "That may be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, Y/N."

"I try, baby," you replied, the endearment slipping out more naturally now.

The moment lingered between you—not quite romantic, but something deeper than your initial arrangement had suggested. You couldn't help wondering what experience had made him so wary of sudden betrayal, even from his own family.

Later, alone in your suite, Jay paced like a caged tiger.

"Something's not right," he muttered. "I've never seen my mother compromise like this."

"Maybe she genuinely approves of me?" you suggested, curled in a window seat overlooking the compound's gardens. "Unlike whoever she was planning to match you with before."

"Perhaps." He didn't sound convinced. "But my mother never yields on guest lists. Never. It's unprecedented."

"Is that concerning?"

He stopped pacing, his expression thoughtful. "Unexpected, certainly. But advantageous. They're accepting you more readily than I anticipated."

"Your romantic soul overwhelms me," you teased gently.

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Sorry. Corporate strategy is my default setting."

"I've noticed, baby. It's almost endearing now."

The pet name made him smile every time—a small, private reaction that felt like a victory.

Three weeks before the wedding, as preparations reached fever pitch, Jay found you in your suite's private garden—your sanctuary when the pressure of performing became too intense.

"We need to discuss the honeymoon," he said without preamble, settling beside you on the stone bench.

You'd been wondering when this would come up. The wedding night and subsequent honeymoon had loomed in your thoughts—unspoken questions about proximity and expectations.

"Bali," he continued, consulting his tablet. "Private villa, secluded beach, minimal staff. I've arranged separate bedrooms, of course."

"Of course," you echoed, trying to identify the strange emotion that fluttered in your chest. Disappointment? Surely not.

"Two weeks is standard for executives of my position," he added, scrolling through details. "The villa has separate office spaces so we can both work when needed. Full security team, but stationed distantly for privacy."

"It sounds... well-planned."

Jay looked up, studying your expression. "But?"

You hesitated. "Nothing. It's appropriate for our arrangement."

He set down the tablet, turning to face you more directly. "Y/N, by now you should know you can speak freely with me."

"It's just... very businesslike," you admitted. "Which is fine. That's what this is."

Something shifted in his expression. "It is business," he agreed. "But after these weeks together, perhaps also... more than just business."

The admission hung between you, neither fully acknowledged nor dismissed.

"People will expect certain behaviors," he continued after a moment. "Public affection. Shared meals. The appearance of... intimacy."

Your mouth went dry. "You mean..."

"Nothing beyond your comfort," he clarified quickly. "But enough to convince the staff, who will inevitably report back to my family and, by extension, the press."

"Right. Our ongoing performance." You nodded, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I can handle looking... in love."

Was it your imagination, or did his eyes linger on your lips before he glanced away?

"There's also the wedding night," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt has been secured. Very private, but hotel staff notice everything. Champagne that goes untouched. Beds that aren't slept in."

A blush crept up your neck despite your best efforts. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Nothing inappropriate," he assured you, though his own complexion seemed warmer than usual. "Just... awareness that appearance matters. The illusion of consummation without the actual act."

"Rumpled sheets and champagne glasses," you summarized, aiming for a clinical tone. "The suggestion of intimacy without crossing boundaries."

His gaze met yours, something unreadable in his expression. "Unless specified otherwise in a future amendment to our arrangement."

Your breath caught. "An amendment?"

"The contract allows for mutual revisions when both parties agree," he said carefully. "I'm simply acknowledging that... feelings can evolve. Expectations may shift over time."

The implication was clear—if physical boundaries changed between you, the option existed to formalize that evolution.

Your heart raced traitorously. "I'll consider the amendment possibility," you replied, matching his professional tone while heat bloomed low in your abdomen.

"Good," he said softly. "That's... good."

A weighted silence fell between you, charged with possibility.

"I should check on the security arrangements," he said finally, rising from the bench. At the garden entrance, he paused. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens or doesn't happen, you have my respect. Always."

After he left, you sat in the garden until twilight, wondering how a false engagement had led to what might be the most honest relationship you'd ever experienced.

The photoshoot among cherry blossoms marked a turning point. What began as another staged display of affection shifted when the photographer positioned you against a tree, Jay's body pressed against yours from behind.

"Kiss her neck," the photographer instructed. "Like you can't resist her."

Jay hesitated, then lowered his mouth to the sensitive spot below your ear. The touch of his lips sent electricity down your spine. You couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped you—one that had nothing to do with performance.

His arms tightened around your waist in response, and you felt him inhale sharply against your skin.

"Now turn and kiss properly," the photographer demanded. "Passionate but elegant."

You turned in Jay's arms, expecting the usual carefully controlled press of lips—three seconds, no movement, just enough for the camera.

Instead, when your mouths met, his lips parted immediately. Without thinking, you responded in kind, your hand sliding into his hair as the kiss deepened. His groan, too quiet for anyone else to hear, was undeniably real. Seven seconds stretched to ten before you separated, both breathing harder than the situation warranted.

"Perfect!" The photographer exclaimed. "The chemistry is explosive!"

In the car afterward, heavy silence hung between you.

"That was..." you began.

"Convincing," Jay finished, his knuckles white on his knee. "Very convincing."

But that night, sleep proved elusive as you replayed the feeling of his mouth against yours, his hands tightening on your waist, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressed against you during that brief moment.

The final wedding rehearsal was scheduled for exactly one week before the ceremony—a full dress run-through to coordinate the complex choreography of family processions, ceremonial exchanges, and media moments.

You stood in the bride's preparation room, attendants adjusting the simplified version of your wedding hanbok, when commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Sharp voices in Korean—too fast for your intermediate skills to follow, but the tension was unmistakable.

Danny appeared at the door, his expression tense. "Small situation. Nothing to worry about."

"What kind of situation?" you asked, recognizing the forced casualness in his tone.

He hesitated. "Unexpected guest. Jay's handling it."

Before you could press further, the door opened again. Jay entered, his face a carefully composed mask that didn't quite hide the tension around his eyes.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Perfect," he replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just a minor protocol issue."

He was lying. After weeks together, you'd learned to read the subtle tells in his expression—the slight tightening around his mouth, the barely perceptible furrow between his brows.

"Babe, come on.."

He met your gaze, then sighed. "We should speak privately."

Once the attendants had been dismissed, he took your hands in his.

"Seraphina Visconti has arrived in Seoul," he said without preamble. "Apparently for a 'routine business meeting' with Korean shipping companies."

Your stomach tightened at his expression. Though he'd never mentioned this woman before, his reaction told you everything you needed to know. This was someone significant. Someone threatening.

"Who is she?" you asked directly.

Jay hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The daughter of an Italian shipping magnate. Her family has been trying to establish business connections with Park Industries for some time."

There was more to the story. Much more, judging by the tension radiating from him.

"And?" you prompted.

"And at one point, she was someone my mother considered a suitable match for me." His jaw tightened. "Her arrival, one week before our wedding, can't be coincidence."

Understanding dawned. "She was a candidate. Before me."

"Yes." Something dark flickered in his eyes. "The Visconti connection would have been... strategically valuable."

"But you chose me instead," you said slowly. "And now she's here to what? Object at the ceremony?"

"The Viscontis don't give up valuable connections easily," he replied grimly. "If they can't secure a Park alliance through marriage..."

"They'll seek another inroad," you finished. "Business partnerships, friendships, however they can get close to your family."

He nodded. "She's requested a meeting with my mother tomorrow. To 'extend congratulations' on my engagement."

The subtext was clear. This woman represented exactly the kind of strategic alliance Jay had been so determined to avoid when he proposed to you. Her presence was a direct challenge to your arrangement.

"What do we do?" you asked.

Jay's expression hardened with determination. "We proceed exactly as planned. But we must be extra vigilant. Seraphina is... persuasive. She can make fiction sound like fact and manipulation feel like coincidence."

You squeezed his hands, an unexpected protectiveness surging through you. "I'm not going anywhere, Jay. Remember, I keep my contracts."

Something flickered in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or something deeper.

"There's something else you should know," he said quietly. "Seraphina and I... we had some history. Brief, but potentially something she might leverage."

"I understand," you assured him, an unexpected pang of something like jealousy surfacing. "You don't need to explain."

"No, I do." His grip tightened. "Because there was never anything real between us. It was strategic on both sides. But with you..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "With you, the strategy has become... complicated."

Your pulse quickened. "Complicated how?"

Before he could answer, a knock interrupted the moment. Danny again, looking apologetic.

"Sorry to disturb, but she's here. At the rehearsal. Somehow she convinced the event coordinator she was on the guest list."

Jay's expression darkened. "Of course she did."

He turned back to you, his gaze intense. "Stay close to me. Don't let her isolate you or my family members. She's skilled at creating divisions."

You nodded, a strange mix of anxiety and determination rising within you. "I'm ready."

"Y/N," he said softly, bringing your hand to his lips in a gesture that felt more genuine than performative. "Thank you for being here. For being real."

As you stepped into the hallway together, his arm protectively around your waist, you couldn't help wondering what Jay wasn't telling you about this woman—and why her arrival had shaken him so deeply.

Something bigger was happening beneath the surface of your arrangement. Something Jay was keeping from you.

And for the first time since accepting his proposal, you wondered if there were secrets within your contract that might eventually tear it apart.

The rehearsals for the wedding ceremony required hours of practice—precise movements, timed responses, careful choreography. Two weeks before the wedding, after yet another exhausting day of preparations, you found yourself alone with Jay in the family's private study, reviewing final details.

"If I have to make one more decision about fucking flower arrangements, I might lose my mind," you groaned, kicking off your heels and curling into the corner of the leather sofa.

Jay laughed—a real laugh, not his public chuckle. "The Parks have been arranging strategic marriages for generations, but I doubt any of my ancestors had to choose between thirteen different shades of white roses."

"Is that what we're doing? A strategic marriage?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

His smile faded. "That was the agreement."

"I know what the agreement was," you said, studying him. "I'm asking what we're doing now."

The question hung between you, dangerous in its directness.

Jay moved to the bar cart, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to you, then sat beside you on the sofa—closer than necessary. You found your eyes drawn to the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he leaned back, the top button undone revealing just a hint of collarbone. When had you started noticing these details?

"I don't know anymore," he admitted, the rare honesty catching you off guard. "This has become...complicated."

You took a sip, welcoming the burn. "Because of the kiss?"

"Which one?" The question surprised you both. He continued quickly, "The photographer. The press appearance last week. The practice for the ceremony. We've kissed numerous times."

"You know which one I mean."

His eyes met yours over the rim of his glass. "Yes. I do."

Another silence, this one charged with possibility.

"We could try again," you suggested, your heart hammering. "Without the photographer. Without the audience. Just to... clarify things."

Jay set his glass down carefully. "That would be crossing a line."

"We drew those lines. We can redraw them."

He studied you, his expression guarded. "Why would you want to?"

"Because I'm tired of pretending I don't feel anything when you touch me," you answered honestly. "Because I'm curious if whatever happened during that kiss was real or just... heightened performance."

"It was real," he said quietly. "At least for me."

The admission hung in the air between you, neither advancing nor retreating from it.

"So?" you prompted.

He exhaled slowly. "So this is dangerous territory. Emotions complicate strategy."

"Fuck the strategy," you said, setting your own glass down. "Just for a minute. Just be Jay, not Park Jongseong with his perfect plans."

Something shifted in his eyes—the careful calculation giving way to something darker, more urgent. His hand moved to your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone in a touch too intimate for strategy.

"If I kiss you now," he said, voice low, "it won't be like the others."

"Good." You held his gaze steadily. "I don't want it to be."

He closed the distance between you slowly, deliberately—giving you time to retreat. You didn't.

His lips met yours, and immediately you understood the difference. This wasn't performance. This was hunger—controlled, but barely. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head as the kiss deepened. You moved closer, your hand finding his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath expensive fabric.

When his tongue traced the seam of your lips, you opened to him willingly, a small sound escaping your throat. He groaned in response, the arm around your waist tightening, pulling you half onto his lap.

The kiss turned desperate, months of controlled touches and careful boundaries dissolving under the heat of genuine desire. His hand moved to your thigh, sliding upward beneath the hem of your dress, fingers tracing patterns on sensitive skin.

"We should stop," he murmured against your mouth, even as his hand continued its upward path.

"Probably," you agreed, making no move to pull away. Instead, you shifted fully onto his lap, straddling him. The position brought you into direct contact with unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

"Fuck," he hissed, his composure fracturing further. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, deliberate movement against him.

The friction was exquisite even through layers of clothing. You tangled your fingers in his perfect hair, destroying hours of careful styling as you deepened the kiss.

His mouth moved to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. "Tell me to stop," he said against your skin, his breath hot. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

In answer, you rolled your hips more firmly against his, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

"I want this," you breathed. "I want you."

His control snapped. In one fluid movement, he had you on your back on the sofa, his weight deliciously heavy as he settled between your thighs. His mouth reclaimed yours with new urgency, one hand sliding higher under your dress, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

A sudden noise in the hallway outside—a staff member passing by—broke the spell. Jay froze, then slowly pulled away, his breathing ragged.

You both stared at each other, the reality of what had almost happened settling between you.

"That was..." he began, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"Definitely not in the contract," you finished, adjusting your disheveled clothing.

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No. It wasn't."

"Do you regret it?" You had to know.

He considered for a moment, straightening his tie with hands not quite steady. "I regret the interruption," he said finally. "Not the action."

Something warm unfurled in your chest. "So what now?"

"Now we should probably get some sleep." He stood, offering his hand to help you up. "Separately," he clarified, though the reluctance in his voice was evident.

You nodded, accepting his help. As you stood, he didn't immediately release your hand.

"This changes things," he said quietly.

"Yes." There was no denying it.

"We should discuss it. Tomorrow, when we're both thinking more clearly."

But tomorrow brought a crisis with the venue. The day after, an issue with security arrangements. Each evening ended with meaningful glances and careful distance—both of you acutely aware of the shift but unable to find the right moment to address it.

The unresolved tension built with each passing day, each careful touch that lingered too long, each glance that held too much promise.

The wedding was a masterpiece of carefully orchestrated moments—traditional Korean ceremony in the morning, Western exchange of vows at sunset, both executed with flawless precision despite Seraphina's strategic presence in the third row.

Throughout both ceremonies, Jay maintained perfect composure, his hand steady as he placed the ring on your finger, his voice unwavering as he recited vows that sounded surprisingly heartfelt for a contractual arrangement.

"I choose you," he said, his eyes holding yours with unexpected intensity. "Above all others, against all expectations, I choose you."

Only you noticed the way his gaze flickered briefly toward Seraphina when he spoke the words.

At the reception, she approached with practiced grace, champagne flute in hand and calculated warmth in her smile.

"Such a...surprising match," she said, air-kissing your cheek. "Jay never mentioned you during our time together in Europe."

"Some connections don't need public announcement to be meaningful," you replied smoothly, feeling Jay's hand tighten at your waist.

Her smile never faltered. "How fortunate that his mother's plans changed so suddenly. We all thought—" She laughed lightly. "Well, it hardly matters now."

Before you could respond, she turned to Jay. "Your uncle mentioned the Hanjin merger is progressing. Fascinating choice, considering."

Something shifted in Jay's expression—fear, barely controlled.

"If you'll excuse us," he said abruptly, "my wife and I should greet the ambassador."

He guided you away with uncharacteristic urgency, his composure fractured.

"What was that about?" you whispered.

"Nothing. Just Seraphina being Seraphina." But his eyes kept scanning the room, tracking her movements like someone monitoring a bomb.

The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt was everything Jay had promised—lavish, private, with discreet staff who delivered champagne then vanished.

Yet the tension from the reception followed you. Jay paced by the windows, making calls in rapid Korean, his tone increasingly agitated.

When he finally ended the last call, you confronted him directly.

"What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' again."

He stared at you for a long moment, conflict evident in his expression.

"I need to check something at the office," he said finally. "A document that shouldn't exist."

"Shouldn't exist?" You frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I'll explain when I return." He was already reaching for his jacket. "Please, Y/N. This is important."

"It's our wedding night!"

"I know." He paused at the door, genuine regret in his eyes. "Two hours, maximum. Then I'll tell you everything."

After he left, you paced the suite, frustration mounting. Whatever game he was playing with Seraphina clearly went deeper than corporate rivalry.

On impulse, you opened his laptop—the one he always kept with him, password protected and closed whenever you approached.

The password prompt glowed accusingly. You tried his birthdate. Access denied. His mother's name. Access denied.

Then, on a hunch: YN-contract-date.

The screen unlocked, revealing dozens of folders meticulously labeled and dated. One caught your eye: "Original Timeline - Evidence."

Heart pounding, you clicked it open.

News articles. Court documents. Photos of Jay looking years older, haggard, defeated.

A marriage announcement with Jay and Seraphina, dated three years earlier.

Headlines about corporate espionage, Jay's disgrace, his removal from Park Industries—all dated years in the future.

The room seemed to tilt as you opened a video file.

It showed Jay—older, with strands of gray at his temples—standing in an empty apartment, speaking directly to the camera.

"If you're watching this, it worked," the Jay in the video said. "I don't know if the consciousness transfer will be complete or if I'll remember everything, so I'm recording key details. The Hanjin merger is the trigger point. Seraphina orchestrated everything through her connection with Chairman Kang..."

He continued methodically outlining his downfall, his eventual disgrace, names and dates and evidence.

"Time travel is theoretically impossible," he concluded. "But so is the pain of having your entire life stripped away in a single day. If there's any chance of preventing it..."

The video ended abruptly.

You stared at the dark screen, heart racing. Time travel? Consciousness transfer? Future knowledge?

"I'm losing my mind," you whispered to the empty room.

You closed the laptop, then opened it again, half expecting the folders to be gone. They weren't.

Maybe this was an elaborate fiction—research for some project, a game, a psychological exercise. Because time travel couldn't be real. That would mean...

The implications made your head swim. That would mean Jay had known about meeting you at the gallery before it happened. That he'd orchestrated everything—your meeting, your relationship, your marriage—as part of some grand design to change a future that had already happened.

It would mean everything between you was calculated, predetermined, false.

"No." You shook your head. "This isn't real."

But the evidence on the screen didn't vanish. Future dates. Future events. Things that hadn't happened yet detailed with journalistic precision.

By the time Jay returned, you'd gone through half the champagne and were sitting on the floor, back against the bed, laptop open beside you.

"Y/N." He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene. "What are you doing?"

"Having a psychotic break, apparently." You gestured vaguely at the laptop. "Either that or marrying a time traveler. I'm not sure which is more concerning."

His face drained of color. "I can explain."

"Explain what? That you're from the future?" You laughed, a brittle sound. "That's literally insane, Jay. I'm insane for even considering it."

He approached slowly, as if you were a frightened animal. "You're not insane."

"Then you're saying it's true? That you—what? Traveled back in time to avoid marrying Seraphina? To prevent some corporate disaster?" The words sounded ridiculous as you spoke them. "Do you realize how that sounds?"

"I know it sounds impossible." He knelt in front of you, keeping a careful distance. "But you've seen the evidence."

"I've seen elaborate fiction. Or I'm hallucinating. Because time travel isn't real." You ran your hands through your hair. "People don't just wake up five years in the past with a chance to redo everything."

"I didn't think it was possible either." His voice was steady, gentle. "Until it happened."

"So what am I to you?" The question escaped before you could stop it. "A convenient pawn in your time-travel chess game? A random variable you introduced to change your precious timeline?"

Pain flashed across his face. "Initially? Yes. I sought you out deliberately at the gallery. I remembered our brief conversation from my original life, and you seemed...perfect. Outside my world. Beyond manipulation."

The confirmation hurt more than you expected. "So you manufactured everything. Our relationship. Our connection. All of it."

"No." He moved closer, carefully taking your hands. "The plan, yes. The contract, yes. But what's grown between us? That wasn't planned. That wasn't strategy."

"How can I believe that?" You searched his face. "How can I believe anything now?"

"Because I'm telling you the truth when I could keep lying." His grip tightened. "Because I'm risking everything by admitting this to you."

"Or I'm having a complete mental breakdown and none of this is happening." You pulled your hands away. "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be back in my apartment in New York. Maybe this whole thing—you, Korea, all of it—is some elaborate delusion."

"It's not," he said firmly. "You're not crazy, Y/N."

"Prove it." You met his eyes. "Tell me something that will happen. Something specific. Something I can verify."

He hesitated. "The stock market—"

"No. Something personal. Something that matters to me."

Jay thought for a moment. "Priya and Jake will announce they're expecting a baby next month. Earlier than they planned to tell anyone, but there will be complications and they'll need support."

Your heart stuttered. "That's cruel. Using my friends—"

"Call her tomorrow if you don't believe me. She took a test two days before our wedding but didn't want to steal your moment."

"Stop it." You stood up, needing distance. "I can't—this is too much."

"I know." He remained kneeling, looking up at you. "And I'm sorry. I never intended for you to find out like this. Or at all, honestly."

"That's worse! You were just going to lie forever?"

"I was going to fulfill our contract. Two years, then release you with everything promised." He rubbed his face. "The timeline is already changed beyond recognition. My purpose was accomplished."

"Your purpose." The words tasted bitter. "Which I was instrumental in without my knowledge or consent."

"Yes." No excuses, just raw admission.

You moved to the window, staring out at Seoul's glittering skyline. Everything suddenly felt alien—the city, the marriage, the man behind you.

"I need time to process this." Your voice was steadier than you felt. "I need to... I don't know, call Priya tomorrow. Verify your claim. Try to determine if I'm actually having a psychotic break."

"Of course." He stood but didn't approach. "Whatever you need."

"I'll sleep in the second bedroom tonight."

He nodded, accepting this without argument. "For what it's worth, Y/N, whatever brought us together—time travel, fate, strategic planning—what's grown between us is real. At least for me."

You couldn't respond to that. Not yet. Not when you weren't even sure what reality was anymore.

As you gathered your things for the night, one question burned through the confusion.

"Why did you do it? Why come back?"

Jay's answer was simple and devastating in its honesty.

"Because I lost everything. And I couldn't bear to live through it again."

You closed the bedroom door between you, then pressed your forehead against it, tears finally escaping.

Either your husband was a time traveler who had manipulated your entire relationship, or you were completely losing your grip on reality.

You weren't sure which possibility terrified you more.

Sleep proved impossible. Around 3 AM, you gave up trying and reached for your phone, scrolling until you found Priya's number. It would be afternoon in New York.

Your thumb hovered over the call button. This was ridiculous. You couldn't just ask your friend if she was pregnant based on your time-traveling husband's inside information.

But you needed to know. Needed some external verification that either confirmed you were sane or confirmed you weren't.

With a deep breath, you pressed call.

"Y/N!" Priya answered on the third ring, her voice bright. "Should you be calling me on your wedding night? Shouldn't you be, you know, occupied?"

"Just checking in," you said, aiming for casual. "How are you feeling?"

A pause. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." You pressed on. "You seemed tired at the wedding. Jake was hovering more than usual."

Another, longer pause. "Okay, that's weird. We literally told no one."

Your heart stopped. "Told no one what?"

"Y/N..." Priya's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you psychic or something? I'm pregnant. Six weeks. We weren't going to tell anyone until the second trimester, but I've been spotting, and the doctor says..."

The room tilted as she confirmed exactly what Jay had predicted. Exactly what shouldn't be possible for him to know.

"That's wonderful news," you managed, though your voice sounded distant to your own ears. "I'm so happy for you. And whatever's happening, I'm here, okay?"

After reassurances and promises to talk soon, you ended the call and sat motionless in the dark.

It was real. All of it. Which meant Jay had truly traveled through time. Had truly sought you out as part of his plan. Had truly married you to prevent some alternate future.

You moved to the door, pulled it open, and found Jay sitting on the floor in the hallway, back against the wall.

"Couldn't sleep either?" you asked.

He looked up, dark circles under his eyes. "Not really."

"I called Priya."

Understanding flashed across his face. "And?"

"She's pregnant. She's spotting. Everything exactly as you said." You slid down the wall to sit beside him. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know." His honesty was strangely comforting. "I went to sleep in my apartment five years in the future and woke up here, in the past. I've spent every day since then trying to prevent the sequence of events that destroyed my life."

"Including marrying me instead of Seraphina."

"Yes." No hesitation, no sugar-coating.

You both sat in silence for a long moment, shoulders almost touching.

"I'm still angry," you said finally. "And confused. And honestly, a little terrified."

"I understand."

"But I also..." you struggled to find the words, "I also can't deny what's happened between us. That feels real, even if the foundation was a lie."

Jay turned to face you. "It is real. The beginning was calculated, yes. But everything since—the late night conversations, the moments when no one was watching, the things we've shared—those weren't strategy. Those were just... us."

"Is that even possible? To find something genuine inside a manufactured situation?"

"I don't know." He reached for your hand tentatively. "But I'd like to find out."

You stared at his outstretched hand, the wedding ring glinting in the dim light. A contract. A strategy. A lie.

And yet, underneath it all, something had grown that neither of you had planned.

After a long moment, you took his hand.

"I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having some elaborate psychotic break," you said with a shaky laugh.

"If it helps, in my extensive experience with both time travel and mental breakdowns, this feels more like the former."

That surprised a genuine laugh from you. "Oh well, if you're an expert..."

His answering smile was hesitant but real—the smile of the man you'd grown to care for, time traveler or not.

"So what now?" you asked.

"Now we figure this out together," he said simply. "No more secrets."

"No more secrets," you agreed.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, a question in the look.

You answered by leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his—your first real kiss, not for show, not for strategy, but because despite everything, you wanted to.

His response was immediate and overwhelming, arms pulling you against him as the kiss deepened. Months of performed affection crystallizing into something genuine and urgent.

"Y/N," he breathed against your mouth. "Are you sure?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm not sure about anything anymore. But I want this. I want you."

He stood, pulling you up with him, searching your face one more time before lifting you into his arms and carrying you toward the master bedroom.

Whatever came next—whatever impossible reality you were living in—at least this part would be real.

Jay carried you to the bedroom, his movements both gentle and urgent. In the dim light filtering through the windows, his eyes never left yours—searching, questioning, even as he lowered you onto the bed.

"Are you certain?" he asked again, hovering above you. "With everything you now know..."

You reached up, tracing the contour of his face. This face you'd come to know so well, yet belonged to someone with secrets you were only beginning to understand.

"I'm not certain about reality anymore," you whispered. "But I'm certain about wanting you."

Something broke in his expression—the careful control he'd maintained since you met him fracturing completely. He lowered his mouth to yours with an intensity that stole your breath, his kiss no longer measured or performative but raw with need.

Your bodies had been close before—staged embraces for photographs, choreographed affection for observers—but this was different. His weight pressing you into the mattress felt like an anchor in a world suddenly unmoored from everything you thought you knew.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your neck, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "No script. No strategy. Just us."

"Everything," you breathed. "I want everything that's real."

His hands trembled slightly as they moved to the zipper of your dress—the man who negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking suddenly unsteady with wanting. The vulnerability in that small tremor undid you.

You helped him with the fastenings, the dress soon forgotten on the floor. He paused to look at you, his expression almost reverent.

"I've imagined this," he confessed. "Not as part of the plan. Just as a man wanting a woman."

Your own fingers worked at his shirt buttons, needing to feel skin against skin. "How long?"

"Since Washington Square Park. When you laughed at that Ukrainian restaurant. I wanted to kiss you then, contract be damned."

The admission sent heat spiraling through you. All those controlled touches, those careful boundaries—beneath them, he'd been wanting this too.

When his shirt joined your dress on the floor, you ran your hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Not the measured rhythm of Park Jongseong, corporate heir, but the accelerated tempo of Jay, the man who wanted you.

His mouth found yours again as his hands explored with increasing boldness—tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breast, his thumb circling your nipple through delicate lace until you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck, between your breasts, his tongue tracing patterns that made you shiver. "I've thought about this for months."

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he unhooked your bra with practiced ease, his mouth closing around your nipple while his hand kneaded your other breast. The careful restraint he'd always shown was nowhere in evidence now—replaced by hunger barely contained.

"Jay," you gasped as his teeth grazed sensitive flesh. "More."

He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Say it again."

"More," you repeated, understanding he meant something else.

"My name," he clarified, voice hoarse. "Not for show. For me."

"Jay," you whispered, then louder. "Jay."

Something fierce and possessive crossed his features. He moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, his fingers hooking into your underwear and slowly drawing them down your legs.

When he settled between your thighs, his breath hot against your most intimate place, he paused again, looking up at you.

"This isn't strategy," he said softly. "This is just me wanting to taste every part of you."

Your answer was lost to a gasp as his mouth closed over you, his tongue exploring with deliberate precision. This was Jay applying the same focused attention he gave to corporate acquisitions to your pleasure—finding exactly what made you tremble, what made your breath catch, what made you cry out his name.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as you began to unravel beneath his relentless attention. When he slid one finger inside you, then another, curling them forward while his tongue continued its assault, the tension building inside you shattered.

You came with his name on your lips, your body arching off the bed, one hand fisted in his hair while the other clutched desperately at the sheets.

Before you'd fully recovered, he was moving up your body, his expression almost feral with need. He shed his remaining clothes with uncharacteristic urgency, his erection heavy against your thigh as he positioned himself above you.

"Protection?" you managed, your mind still hazy with pleasure.

"Nightstand." He reached over, retrieving a condom and sheathing himself with efficient movements. Then he was there, poised at your entrance, searching your face one last time. "Y/N?"

You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer. "Now, Jay."

He sank into you with a groan that sounded almost pained, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes open—connection beyond the physical as he filled you completely.

"You feel..." he began, words failing him for perhaps the first time since you'd known him.

"I know," you whispered, understanding perfectly.

He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust measured and deep. But as your bodies found their rhythm, as your hips rose to meet his, the careful control he prided himself on began to slip.

His movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against your neck. You ran your nails down his back, urging him on, needing more of whatever this was—this genuine connection amid so much calculated deception.

"Y/N," he gasped, his rhythm faltering. "I can't—"

"Let go," you urged, feeling yourself climbing toward another peak. "Just let go."

Something inside him broke at your words. His next thrusts were almost desperate—hard, deep, relentless. One hand slipped between your bodies, finding where you were joined, his thumb circling your sensitive flesh.

"Come with me," he commanded, his voice raw. "I need to feel you."

The intensity in his eyes, the command in his voice, the precise circles of his thumb—it was too much. You shattered around him with a cry that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have been a curse at the universe that had brought you to this impossible moment.

He followed moments later, his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure through your still-pulsing body. His arms gave out, and he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the most grounding way possible.

For long moments, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing gradually slowing, his heart pounding against yours.

"That wasn't in the contract," you finally said, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He lifted his head to look at you, a smile spreading across his face—genuine, unguarded. "I believe that qualifies as an amendment."

"A very thorough amendment," you agreed, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

He rolled to the side, taking you with him, keeping your bodies connected. "I may require multiple amendments. To ensure complete clarity."

"Very prudent," you murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. "Contracts should be explicit."

His expression sobered slightly. "Y/N, what happened between us just now—"

"Was real," you finished for him. "Whatever else isn't, that was."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing your forehead. "I didn't travel through time expecting to find you. That wasn't part of the plan."

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed. His hand traced lazy circles on your back. "I'm still not entirely sure how it happened. The time travel or...this."

You settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having an elaborate psychotic break."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "If so, it's an exceptionally vivid one."

"Maybe that's all life is," you mused. "Vivid hallucinations we choose to believe in."

His arms tightened around you. "Then I choose this one. With you."

You lay together in comfortable silence, the questions and complications temporarily held at bay by the simplicity of skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Tomorrow would bring reality crashing back—Seraphina's machinations, the timeline Jay was trying to alter, the complex web of truth and deception that had brought you to this point.

But for now, in the quiet darkness of a wedding night never meant to be real, you'd found something neither of you had anticipated in your carefully constructed arrangement.

Something genuine in a world of strategic fabrication.

Something true in a reality bent by impossible physics.

Something neither time nor planning could have engineered.

Epilogue: Three Years Later

"I said I wanted to relax on the beach, not hike up a mountain," you grumbled, one hand braced against your lower back, the other resting protectively over the prominent curve of your seven-month pregnant belly. "This babymoon was supposed to be about pampering, not cardio."

Jay looked back at you from several steps ahead on the winding trail, his expression softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the slight breathlessness in your voice.

"It's hardly a mountain, angel," he said, immediately returning to your side. "More of an elevated pathway with strategic viewpoints. But we can turn back if you're uncomfortable."

You leaned into him as his arm slid around your waist, supporting some of your weight while his other hand came to rest alongside yours on your belly. "A 'strategic viewpoint' is what you called that cliff in Santorini last year, and I nearly had a heart attack."

"You said the photos were worth it," he reminded you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I was being polite. I was actually contemplating pushing you over the edge for making me climb all those steps."

His laugh rumbled against you, warm and genuine. In three years of marriage—one beyond your original contract—that laugh had become more frequent, less guarded. When you'd first met, Park Jongseong's calculated public chuckle had been as meticulously controlled as everything else about him. Now, Jay laughed openly, especially with you.

"The Park heir doesn't back down from challenges," you added, perfectly mimicking his mother's crisp tone and slight accent. "Isn't that what your mom told me last week when I complained about the nursery color palette meetings running four hours? Who needs eighteen shades of 'celestial' anyway? They're all just... blue."

Jay winced. "If you quote my mother again while we're on vacation, I'm flying Danny out here to keep you company. He's been dying to revisit that story about my high school talent show performance."

"The K-pop cover?" Your eyes lit up with mischief. "With the leather pants and the hair gel? Please do. I've only seen the photos, but the video footage would make excellent blackmail material for the next twenty years of parenting."

"I looked good in those pants," he defended, though his hand moved to massage the sore spot on your lower back that had been bothering you since morning.

You groaned appreciatively as his fingers found exactly the right spot. "Keep doing that and I might not share the existence of those photos with our daughter when she's old enough to be mortified by her father."

"Negotiating already? She's not even born, and you're forming alliances against me." His tone was playful, but the tenderness in his expression whenever he referenced your unborn child made your heart flutter. The man who had once approached marriage as a tactical business arrangement now spent evenings reading pregnancy books and speaking Korean lullabies against your belly.

"Another ten minutes to the overlook," he promised, thumb working circles against your lower spine. "Then we'll head back to the villa. I promise it's worth it."

You sighed dramatically but allowed him to guide you forward. "Our daughter better appreciate all this hiking I'm doing for her. She's been practicing her taekwondo moves on my bladder all morning."

"She's already plotting her corporate takeover strategy," Jay said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "A true Park."

"God help us all," you muttered, though your free hand squeezed his in affection. "One strategic mastermind in the family was enough."

"You forget your contract negotiation tactics. You extracted a villa in the Maldives with private chef, daily massages, and no conference calls for two weeks. Our daughter is getting the best of both of us."

"Speaking of strategies," you said, pausing to catch your breath, "I've been thinking about names again."

Jay groaned dramatically. "Not this again. We had a system. A spreadsheet with weighted attributes and cultural significance metrics."

"I'm vetoing the spreadsheet." You continued walking, leaning heavier on his support. "No child of mine is going to be named via algorithm."

"It's not an algorithm, it's a—"

"Strategic naming methodology with comparative analysis," you finished for him. "I've heard the pitch, Mr. Park. Still vetoing it."

He sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "What names are you considering now?"

"I like Mina."

"That's actually on the spreadsheet's top five. Strong in both cultures, elegant, historical significance—"

"I don't care about your spreadsheet points. I like how it sounds."

"Alright, angel. Mina stays on the list." His easy acquiescence was still something you were getting used to. The Jay you'd first met would have defended his methodical approach for at least another ten minutes. "We still have two months to decide. Unless she makes an early entrance."

"Don't even suggest it," you warned. "After what your mother said about Park babies always arriving precisely on schedule, like their corporate acquisitions? I think she'd be personally offended if this baby came early."

"Chairwoman Park does not acknowledge the existence of unscheduled deliveries," he agreed solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. "Though she did order the hospital's maternity wing renovation completed a month ahead of schedule, just in case."

"Your mother terrifies me," you admitted. "And somehow I still adore her."

"She feels the same about you. She told Uncle Jimin you're the only person who's ever successfully changed her mind during a board meeting. He said she sounded proud."

"She should be. That sustainable investing initiative is going to increase profits by twelve percent next quarter."

Jay grinned at you. "Look at you, talking profit margins and quarterly projections. Remember when you said you'd rather die than become a 'corporate drone'?"

"I maintain that position," you insisted. "I'm an independent consultant who happens to occasionally advise the largest conglomerate in South Korea. Completely different."

"Of course," he agreed diplomatically. "Just like I'm not a workaholic, I just have 'dedication to operational efficiency.'"

You bumped your hip against his. "You've been better. Only three midnight emails this month."

"All emergencies," he defended.

"The color of the fonts on the annual report was not an emergency, Park."

"Brand consistency is critical to market perception," he began, then caught your expression and laughed. "Fine. Not an emergency."

When you reached the overlook, the view did indeed steal your breath—crystal-clear waters stretching to the horizon, the private cove of your Maldives villa visible in the distance, pristine white sand contrasting with vibrant turquoise.

"Damn it," you murmured.

"Excuse me?" Jay raised an eyebrow.

"You were right. It was worth it." You leaned back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you, hands cradling your belly. "Don't look so smug."

"I would never," he said, not bothering to hide his satisfied smile. "Besides, being right is just part of my charm."

You elbowed him gently. "Your humility is what I love most about you."

"That and my strategic viewpoint selection."

"And your modesty. Clearly."

His hands splayed wider across your belly, and as if on cue, your daughter kicked sharply against his palm. The look of wonder that crossed his face at the contact never diminished, no matter how many times he felt it.

"That was a strong one," he said softly.

"Tell me about it. I'm pretty sure I'm growing a future taekwondo champion in here."

"Like her mother," he said, his voice warm with admiration. "Strong. Determined."

"Cranky when hungry?" you suggested.

"I was going to say 'formidable when provoked,' but your phrasing works too." His chin rested on your shoulder, and you felt his smile against your neck. "She's already perfect."

The simple sincerity in his voice made your hormones send tears threatening. You blamed pregnancy emotions, but the truth was deeper. This man—who had literally traveled through time to avoid destruction—was now embracing a future neither of you could predict or control, with complete certainty that it was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Did you ever imagine this?" you asked, gesturing vaguely at your belly, at the two of you standing on this pristine outlook. "When you made that original contract proposal at that ridiculously expensive restaurant?"

"It was hardly ridiculous. Their wine list was impeccable." His deflection was automatic—the old Jay momentarily surfacing.

"You know what I mean," you persisted. "Did time-traveling Jay ever see this coming?"

He was quiet for a moment, his chin resting on your shoulder. "No," he finally answered with characteristic honesty. "This was never part of the strategy. My plan ended with avoiding the merger, preventing Seraphina's sabotage, maintaining family control of the company."

"Very romantic objectives."

"I didn't believe in romance then," he reminded you. "I believed in risk management."

"And now?" you asked, turning slightly to see his face. "Disappointed that your perfect plan got derailed by unforeseen variables? Namely, catching actual feelings for your contract wife?"

His eyes met yours, that intense gaze that still made your heart skip. "The plan was to avoid disaster," he said seriously. "I got happiness instead. That's not a detour, angel. That's a miracle."

"Don't go soft on me now, Park. What would the shareholders think?" you teased, though you leaned into his touch as his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"They'd think I finally made a sound investment with appropriate long-term growth potential," he replied, matching your business terminology while his eyes remained soft.

"Oh? And what's the projected ROI on this particular acquisition?"

"Immeasurable," he said simply, the single word holding more genuine emotion than the countless practiced speeches he'd given over the years.

"A time-traveling corporate heir and a skeptical journalist walk into a gallery..." you began, a reference to how you often joked about your improbable origin story.

"Sounds like the setup for a terrible joke," he finished, smiling against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Or the perfect story," you countered when you separated. "Though no one would believe it."

"Danny believes it," Jay said dryly. "After walking in on us arguing about whether my future knowledge of the 2024 Olympics constituted gambling when I placed those bets."

"In my defense, it absolutely was cheating."

"In my defense, we donated all the proceeds to charity."

"After I made you," you reminded him.

"A minor detail." His hand moved in slow circles over your belly, soothing both you and the active little one inside. "Speaking of details, that cloud formation suggests a weather change within the next hour. Ready to head back? I've arranged for a prenatal massage at the villa."

You narrowed your eyes. "Did you plan this entire hike timing based on weather patterns?"

"I may have consulted three different meteorological reports and timed our arrival at the overlook for optimal viewing conditions before the afternoon clouds moved in," he admitted without a hint of shame.

"Your level of extra never ceases to amaze me." You shook your head, but couldn't suppress a smile. "This is why I keep you around, Park. Your strategic planning has its advantages."

"Just fulfilling the terms of our renegotiated contract," he replied, guiding you carefully back toward the path. "Section four, paragraph three: 'Husband agrees to ensure wife's comfort during pregnancy with particular emphasis on lower back support, regular food provision, and optimal weather condition monitoring.'"

"You need to stop letting your legal team draft our personal agreements," you laughed. "But I appreciate the thoroughness."

"The legal team wanted to include a footnote about reasonable expectations regarding my ability to control weather patterns, but I refused. I have standards."

"Of course you do." You laced your fingers with his as you began the descent. "Tell me more about this massage. Did you fly in some exclusive practitioner from Sweden who only treats royalty and tech billionaires?"

"Of course not," Jay scoffed. "She's from Norway, and she primarily works with Olympic athletes. Royalty is just her side clientele."

You burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

"I believe the term you used last week was 'extra but endearing.'"

"I was being generous."

"You usually are," he said, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "With your patience. Your understanding. This journey hasn't been... conventional."

"Conventional is overrated," you replied, squeezing his hand. "Though I do plan on writing a book someday. 'How to Negotiate Your Way from Fake Marriage to Real Happiness: A Time Traveler's Guide.'"

"Catchy title. Limited market though."

"You don't know that. There could be dozens of time travelers out there, all looking for contractual arrangements that evolve into genuine love stories."

"Dozens seems optimistic."

"Says the man who literally bent physics. You don't get to talk about 'optimistic.'"

The banter continued as you made your way back to the villa, a luxurious beachfront property that somehow combined Jay's taste for refined elegance with your insistence on comfortable practicality. Like your relationship, it shouldn't have worked on paper, but in reality, it was perfect.

Later, after the Norwegian masseuse had worked miracles on your pregnancy-strained muscles, you lounged on the villa's private deck while Jay prepared dinner—another evolution that would have seemed impossible three years ago. Park Jongseong, corporate heir and strategic mastermind, now insisted on cooking for you at least twice a week, a skill he'd developed with the same methodical precision he applied to business acquisitions.

"Your mother called while you were in the shower," you mentioned as he served grilled fish with a mango salsa he'd perfected over the past year. "She wanted to know if we'd considered her suggestion about the trust fund structure."

Jay paused, wine bottle hovering over your glass of sparkling water. "Please tell me you didn't discuss financial planning during our vacation."

"Of course I did. I told her your idea about the educational milestone incentives was better than her straight distribution plan, and that the sustainable investment portfolio she proposed needed more diverse clean energy holdings."

He stared at you for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "Three years ago, you called investment banking 'legalized gambling for people with too much money.'"

"I stand by that assessment," you replied primly. "But if our daughter is going to have Park money, it might as well be responsibly managed Park money that does some good."

"Our daughter," he repeated, a smile softening his features as he set down the wine and rested a hand on your belly. "I still can't quite believe it sometimes."

"Which part? That we're having a baby, or that you're having one with the woman you initially approached as a strategic human shield against corporate sabotage?"

"Both," he admitted. "Though more the latter. When I found you at that gallery, I was looking for a solution to a problem, not..." he gestured between you, "whatever miracle this is."

"A solution to a problem," you echoed thoughtfully. "That's not the most romantic description of your future wife I've ever heard."

"Would you prefer 'tactically advantageous alliance partner'?" he offered with a straight face.

"Much better. I'm swooning."

His expression grew more serious. "You know what I mean. I wasn't looking for connection then. I didn't think I needed it—or deserved it, after what happened."

"After what was going to happen," you corrected gently. "A future you prevented."

"Semantics," he said with a slight shrug, though you both knew it was more than that. The guilt he carried for actions his alternative self might have taken had taken months of conversations to address.

"Did I ever tell you," you said, changing tactics, "that I almost didn't go to Priya's gallery that night? I had a deadline the next day and was planning to skip it."

"You hadn't mentioned that." He looked up, intrigued.

"I finished the article early and decided last minute that I should support my friend." You took a bite of fish, appreciating the perfect balance of flavors. "One small decision. Go to a gallery or stay home. And here we are."

"The butterfly effect."

"More like the exhausted-journalist-who-finished-work-early effect, but sure." You smiled at him across the table. "Time travel or not, I think we were supposed to find each other."

"I don't believe in destiny," he reminded you.

"Says the time traveler."

"Time travel is physics. Theoretically. Destiny is..."

"Also physics, if you think about it. Predetermined paths, fixed points in spacetime."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been reading physics journals again?"

"Maybe. The baby likes quantum mechanics. She kicks when I read about wave-particle duality."

"Of course she does," he said proudly, as though your unborn child's apparent interest in physics was a personal achievement. "She's brilliant like her mother."

"And modest like her father," you countered, though you couldn't help the warmth that spread through you at the compliment.

That night, as you lay in bed with Jay's body curved protectively around yours, his hand resting on your belly where your daughter occasionally pressed a foot or elbow against his palm, you reflected on the strange, wonderful path you'd traveled.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against your hair, always attuned to your shifting moods even when you thought he was drifting to sleep.

"About how sometimes the best futures are the ones we can't plan," you replied, covering his hand with yours. "Even for time travelers."

He chuckled softly. "Especially for time travelers."

"Do you ever miss it?" you asked. "The certainty of knowing what comes next?"

"Never," he said without hesitation, his arm tightening around you. "The future we're creating is better than any I could have foreseen. Besides, certainty is overrated. Where's the excitement in knowing every outcome?"

"Says the man who made a career of eliminating variables and calculating risk."

"I've developed a taste for the unpredictable," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear that still made you shiver. "A certain journalist taught me the value of beautiful chaos."

"Chaos theory," you murmured. "Small changes in initial conditions leading to wildly different outcomes."

"Exactly." His hand splayed wider across your belly. "One gallery opening. One conversation. One impulsive dinner invitation that wasn't in my original plan."

"Was anything about that night not calculated?" you asked, genuinely curious. After all this time, there were still pieces of his original strategy you occasionally discovered.

"The way you looked at me," he said softly. "When I made that comment about the abstract painting being 'deliberately obtuse to mask the artist's technical limitations.'"

"I remember. I laughed and said you were 'refreshingly honest for someone wearing a watch that cost more than my rent.'"

"That's the moment I deviated from the script," he admitted. "In my original timeline, we had a brief, pleasant conversation and never saw each other again. But something about your reaction made me want more. That dinner invitation afterward wasn't planned."

"So I have your impulsive deviation to thank for all this?" You gestured vaguely at your life together.

"That, and your capacity to negotiate a marriage contract like you were dismantling a hostile takeover bid."

"I was thorough," you defended. "Anyone would be when being asked to marry a virtual stranger for business purposes."

"You demanded a custom sleep number bed, a language tutor who specialized in colloquial rather than business Korean, and a contract clause about maintaining your own journalistic independence even when writing about companies connected to Park Industries."

"All reasonable requests."

"The Hawaiian pizza provision was a bit much."

"A woman has to draw the line somewhere. No pineapple on pizza in our household is a hill I'm willing to die on."

His laugh vibrated against your back, comfortable and familiar. "I love you, angel. Unreasonable pizza restrictions and all."

"I love you too," you replied, shifting to face him despite your unwieldy belly. "Strategic time-traveling and all."

As you drifted toward sleep in his arms, your daughter shifted inside you, a gentle reminder of the impossible journey that had led to this moment—a contract transformed into commitment, strategy evolved into love, calculation giving way to the beautiful chaos of a life built together.

Sometimes the best vows were the ones you never planned to make, but discovered you wanted to keep anyway.

And sometimes the most calculated beginning led to the most wonderfully unpredictable destination.

fin.

Taglist: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @annybah @zzhengyu @naurwayyyyy @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @lovelycassy @highway143 @koizekomi @jaeyunsbimbo @cutehoons02 @deluluscenarios @bubbletaeq @lamin143 @dearestdreamies @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heewhoresimp @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @loudpeachdetective @cristy-101 @ash-engen @miuwonis @pinkglitterpuke @theothernads

591 notes · View notes

theemporium · 6 months ago

Text

[17.2k] nico hischier didn't expect to go first overall. he didn't expect to become captain of the new jersey devils. he didn't expect to become a dad to twins. and he certainly didn't expect to fall in love with the twins' nanny.

series masterlist

Becoming a father was one of the best things that ever happened to Nico Hischier.

It was one of those things that he always knew would happen in his life, something that fit with his other aspirations. It wasn’t like hockey. Not when the chances of him going first overall and becoming captain and leading his team to playoffs seemed like a series of right choices made to go down the right path.

Becoming a father was something he kind of expected to happen in his life one day, one of those things he always saw in his future but never thought too hard about.

He just never expected it to happen the way it did.

If he was being completely honest, he assumed somewhere amongst the hectic life of being a NHL player, he would meet someone and they would fall in love and all the milestones would be reached together: anniversaries, marriage, children. It was a sweet fantasy many people had and Nico was just another one on the list.

The series of events that led towards Marlene and Otto Hischier becoming a part of his life were unconventional, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

He still remembered the day he met them, clearer than any other memory he had. Clearer than his draft day, his first NHL goal, the day he was awarded captaincy.

The day he met his children stood out, a mix of chaos and stress and fear. But also love and adoration and a step into a new era of his life that he welcomed, even if he was thrown into the deep end with little to no preparation.

Before the twins, the most experience he had with kids was the boys on the team who had children. On family skate days, at team bonding events, even the odd babysitting here and there to give the parents a break for a night.

But having two newborns suddenly under his care was a hurdle Nico never considered he would have to jump in his life.

All things considered, the timing had worked out.

Off-season was around the corner, he had no plans to play for Worlds and he had a few months to settle into some form of routine whilst coming to terms with the fact he was a father.

The days were long, the nights were longer but he made it. He was never really alone, not with the insane support system he had in his team and in his family. Whenever he felt like he was spiralling, there was someone there to hold his hand.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t shitting himself when preseason training came around again.

He would be lying if he said his parents weren’t absolute saviours the first year of the twins’ lives, practically moving in as they followed him back to Jersey.

It wasn’t easy, far from it. He couldn’t get rid of the fear that he was doing it all wrong, that he was going to somehow fuck up and ruin everything and not give his children the lives they deserved. He constantly felt on edge, wanting nothing more than to give them the best lives he could, the best childhood he could.

Which led them to the twins’ belated second birthday party at his parents’ house in Switzerland, having what had been a recurring argument with his parents since the off-season started.

“What was wrong with Mrs Holden?”

Nico let out a sigh, already feeling a sense of deja vu washing over him. “She was too…traditional. She wouldn’t let Marley wear the blue dress she loves so much.”

His mother hummed. “And that one that wanted to be a teacher, hm? Vanessa! She seemed sweet.”

“Yes, until she started insisting my parenting skills were wrong because I wasn’t pushing the twins to learn their abc’s before they could say three words,” Nico scoffed under his breath, frowning as the memory of the woman repeated in his head.

“And that nice boy, Felix? He was Swiss too!” Rino questioned. “The twins loved him.”

“Yeah, and he loved telling people the twins were his kids too,” Nico deadpanned.

“He said he was an uncle,” Rino corrected.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Nico muttered.

“Fine then,” Katja sighed. “What about Olive? You liked her and she looked after the kids for months!”

“Yes but,” Nico waved his hand in some incoherent gesture. “She wasn’t right for them.”

“Nico,” Rino said in a heavy voice.

“I know you think I’m being overprotective but I just want what’s best for them,” Nico insisted, his fingers lightly skimming over the side of the glass in front of him. “They are getting older and they are more impressionable. They need stability and I need someone I can trust will be a good influence on them.”

“Yes but it’s been months of looking and you haven’t found anyone,” Rino pointed out. “Which is fine now, you have months until preseason starts. But it only gets harder the longer you leave it.”

Nico swallowed harshly. “I know, I know…”

“We know you care about them,” Katja spoke in a soft voice, reaching across the table to place her hand on his arm. “We get it. Trust me, we do. But the way you care about them is the way we care about you, and we are just worried about you being left to take care of the twins all by yourself when the season starts.”

“I’ll find someone,” Nico said, and he hoped he sounded as determined as he did in his head. “It will be worth it. And they will be what the twins need.”

Katja smiled, though it looked a bit sad. “We hope so.”

“Where are the twins, anyways?” Rino questioned, steering the conversation away and giving Nico a chance to relax his shoulders. “I’m surprised they haven’t started demanding cake.”

“Ah,” Nico smiled. “That’s because they are playing with—“

“TICKLE MONSTER IS GOING TO GET YOU!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Nico’s grin widened even more as the sounds of his children’s giggles sounded through the house. “Tickle monster with Unkel Luca,” he finished eventually as the three of them raced into the room.

Marley and Otto made a beeline for him, cheeks red and smiles wide as they jumped for his lap, screeching and squealing and laughing as they tugged on their father’s shirt.

“Papa! Papa!” Marley giggled, hiding her face against his forearm as she clung onto him. “Unkel Luca is running!”

“He’s running after you?” Nico asked, watching as both nodded quickly. He stole a glance at his older brother, watching as he stood there with an innocent smile before shaking his head fondly. “That’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“No,” Otto giggled. “Game, Papa, game!”

“Oh, it’s a game,” Nico nodded in understanding.

“Need to hide,” Marley explained, panting lightly. And then she blinked, big brown eyes staring up at him in a way that made him want to melt. “Help us?”

Nico couldn’t help but sigh happily. “Yeah, baby, Papa will help.”

He lifted the edge of the tablecloth high enough for the twins’ eyes to widen in delight at their new hiding place, both ducking their heads as they shuffled under the table and quickly planted themselves by their grandparents’ feet with high-pitched giggles.

Luca grinned, waiting for Nico to drop the tablecloth before he let out an exaggerated sigh and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh no! Where did they go?”

Nico could feel his heart melting even more when their giggles only got louder.

Katja’s expression softened as she watched the way her youngest son slip into the role of a father so well.

“You’ll find someone,” Katja nodded, smiling in a way only a mother looking at her child could. “And I’m sure they will be perfect for the twins.”

Nico returned the smile, something quite like hope twisting in his stomach.

…

June and July and August slipped away from him before he realised what was happening.

He had taken the summer for granted, basking in life away from hockey and cameras and expectations. He was enjoying spending time with his kids and his family and his friends back home. He was enjoying living a normal, less-than-hectic life.

Then all too soon, he was herding two hyperactive toddlers onto a plane back to Jersey with the overwhelming reality that he had done exactly what his parents warned him about and left everything far too last minute.

“Papa?”

He blinked, turning his head to find Otto slumped with his head on Nico’s thigh, blinking as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“Uncle Jack come in car?” Otto questioned, something quite excited in his voice despite the exhaustion.

“Yeah, Uncle Jack is picking us up,” Nico nodded with a smile as he reached to gently push his fingers through the young boy’s hair, watching as his eyes fluttered shut. “He’s excited to see you both.”

Otto blinked. “Hugs?”

Nico hummed, lightly scratching his scalp in the way that always made Otto sleepy—even as a baby. “Uncle Jack is going to give you so many hugs.”

“Good,” Otto murmured before slumping back down against his thigh.

Unsurprisingly, neither Otto nor Marley stayed awake by the time Jack arrived. It hadn’t stopped Jack from cooing and smiling and muttering a ‘finally back home’ before he helped Nico settle the twins into the car seats in the back.

Nico hadn’t even realised how exhausted he was himself until he was settled in the passenger seat, his eyes closing as he let out a deep sigh.

“So,” Jack begins.

Nico let out a hum of acknowledgement.

“I had lunch at Curtis’ the other day,” he continued, doing what he did best and beating around whatever point he wanted to make because he wanted to tell a story.

“Is that so?” Nico muttered because he knew Jack and he knew the boy wouldn’t continue unless he played along.

“He mentioned you were still looking for a nanny for the twins,” Jack said, his fingers aimlessly tapping against the wheel. “Said you asked him about any good agencies you could go through.”

Nico slowly opened his eyes, turning his head to flash his friend a look. “Where are you going with this?”

“Nothing,” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Just wondering why you didn’t ask me too, you know?”

Nico blinked. “Because Curtis has children, Jack.”

“I could still find you a good babysitter,” Jack argued, his nose scrunching slightly. “You haven’t given me a chance.”

“I don’t think I want to give you a chance,” Nico retorted.

“Rude,” Jack huffed. “I’ll have you know, as the twins’ favourite uncle—”

Nico made a small noise of disagreement (just to wind the younger boy up).

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “As the twins’ favourite uncle,” he repeated a little more forcefully. “You gotta have a little faith that I would find someone suitable for the job.”

Nico let out a deep sigh. “You already have someone in mind, don’t you?”

Jack flashed him an innocent grin. “In my defence, Curtis had to listen to the fifteen possible candidates I found and narrowed it down to the one he would trust with his kids too.”

And maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the desperation. Or maybe—though he would never admit it to Jack for the sake of the boy’s ego getting bigger—he could trust Jack to know the kind of person Nico needed around the twins.

And there was the added bonus he could say ‘I told you so’ if it went wrong.

“Fine,” Nico said eventually. “I’ll check out your nanny.”

…

“So, you’re going on a date?”

“Stop calling it a date,” you grumbled into the phone as you walked down the street, brows furrowed as you read the names of the shops you passed. “It’s just an interview.”

“Back in my day, a man took a lady to a coffee shop for a date. Interviews were in offices.”

You rolled your eyes a little at your grandmother’s words. “Coffee shop dates aren’t a generational thing, people still do them.”

“So you admit it’s a date?”

“Once again, it’s an interview for a new job, Nana,” you said, a voice in the back of your mind reminding you to not give into the conversation. But it was too late.

“Well, excuse me for just wanting my lovely granddaughter to find someone instead of working herself to the bone.”

“Nana,” you said with a sigh.

“You jump from family to family, I just want you to have the same thing, honey.”

“I know,” you murmured, feeling a little guilty as the sincerity in her voice sounded through the phone. “When I go on that date, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Actually, Bernice has this grandson—”

“Bye, Nana!”

You winced a little at your phone, reminding yourself to visit her in the care home this weekend to make up for the phone call. And to bring those lemon bars she loved from the bakery down the road from you. It tended to soften her bad moods when you brought her sweet treats, and denying another one of her attempted blind dates was definitely going to put you in her bad books.

But you pushed the thought away for now, straightening your back as you looked up at the sign above the cafe, double and triple checking it was the right place before walking in. Your eyes skimmed over the customers currently sat around the cafe, picking them apart until you paused on a man sitting alone, tucked away in the cosy book corner of the establishment.

It was the white beanie on his head—the one he had mentioned he would be wearing—that confirmed to you he was the one you were meeting.

“Mr Hischier?”

The man jumped a little, like his own name took him by surprise before he quickly schooled his features. Almost instinctively, he stood up from his seat before flashing you a polite and somewhat awkward smile.

“Nico is fine,” he assured you before clearing his throat, gesturing towards the seat across from him. “Please, sit down. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” you assured him, choosing to leave out the fact your heart was beating fast enough as it was. Caffeine wouldn’t help the interview jitters. “Just to make it clear from the start, your partner explained your situation and how the job might vary a bit from my previous schedules—”

“Partner?” Nico repeated with a frown.

“Yes, the one I spoke on the phone to originally for the job,” you said, keeping a polite smile on your face. “Uh, Jack, I believe his name was.”

“I—” Nico’s face started to turn pink, a sheepish laugh escaping his lips. “No, Jack isn’t my partner. He is a close friend.” He paused before continuing. “Not close like that! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just mean, he is a very good friend of mine because we are also teammates. Who work together. On the same team.”

“Right,” you murmured, your lips twitching upwards in amusement. “I’m sorry, usually it’s the parents calling up and he seemed to know so much about your kids so I assumed—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Nico laughed, a little more relaxed than he was a few moments ago when you had walked into the cafe. “He really cares about the twins.”

Your smile softened a little. “From our short conversation, I could tell they mean a lot to him. And you do too, he seemed really persistent in finding the right person to help you out.”

Nico nodded, but there was still a light blush on his cheeks. “It’s, uh, just me and the twins. The team helps out a lot but with our job, we travel a lot and the twins are getting older and I can’t always take them with me.”

“You need someone who can provide them with structure and stability,” you guessed.

“Exactly,” Nico let out a short breath, his shoulders dropping a little. “I travel a lot. Sometimes gone for days at a time and I know that can be a lot—”

“Jack explained,” you assured him with a polite smile. “I’m aware of the arrangement, if that is what you’re worried about. It doesn’t put me off, especially with what Jack has told me. They seem like great kids.”

“They are,” Nico said, beaming a little when he did.

You smiled, settling back against your seat. “Tell me more about them.”

…

Nico liked to think he was a good judge of character.

And, though it would pain him to ever admit as much out loud, he couldn’t deny that Jack had made a great choice with you. It was overwhelming to think about but he should have never doubted Jack, not when the boy loved the twins almost as much as he did. Not when he and the others on the team treated the twins like they were family.

The boys had his back and that extended to his family too.

After the initial interview, there was a little more back and forth between you and Nico, mostly discussing logistics and scheduling and further details. With preseason approaching, Nico preferred to have the twins established and comfortable with you before the regular season started and the long roadies began.

And you were so cooperative, it honestly caught Nico off guard. It wasn’t like he expected you to make things difficult, but he had his fair share of babysitters and nannies who had made a point to be a bit hesitant about the schedule.

It was refreshing to have someone on the same page as him.

“Oh no, I wonder where they are hiding. I might never find them!”

Nico didn’t even bother to hide his smile as he stood in the middle of the living room, shaking his head fondly at the two pairs of legs peeking out from behind one of the couches. He had spent the last hour frantically cleaning the house for your arrival, wanting to make the best impression he could but the living room was a lost cause with a variety of kids' toys sprawled over the room.

With preseason starting soon, he was beginning to feel the heavy weight of the hockey season and his captain duties starting to settle in. But this was his biggest priority, his kids would always be his biggest priority.

“I guess they don’t want me to meet our new fründ who was really excited to meet them,” Nico continued, letting out a theatrically loud sigh.

It took seconds before Otto’s head popped up, eyes wide and curious. “New friend?”

Nico smiled. “She is coming to meet you both today.”

“I want a new fründ!” Marley exclaimed as she popped up beside her brother, her grin matching his own and it made Nico’s chest tighten—in a good way, of course.

“And what do we remember when we meet a new friend?” Nico asked, already crouching down as both twins ran towards him and happily tucked themselves into his arms.

“Be nice,” Otto said.

“Be kind,” Marley added.

“Good,” Nico praised, pressing quick kisses to both their cheeks as they giggled at the scratch of his beard against their skin. “Best behaviour, okay? This friend is going to be coming around a lot if you like her.”

Otto tilted his head. “Like the other friends?”

Nico nodded. “Only if you like her.”

Because at the end of the day, that was what mattered most—that was what made him fire babysitters and nannies in the past. Credentials and first impressions only went so far compared to the opinion of his kids. He trusted their judgement. He wanted them happy and comfortable with the person who would be with them almost as much as he would be. He wanted the twins to choose their person too.

He knew his parents and even some of the guys on the team thought he was being picky, but Nico just thought he was being fair. His kids deserved to have someone they liked and trusted, he had a duty to find that person for them.

Even if their excitement was hidden by their own shyness and hesitancy when you finally rang the doorbell.

“Hey,” Nico breathed out, smiling a little as he opened the door. “Come on in. The twins are excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet them,” you smiled back, stepping in and letting your eyes wander around the apartment. “Nice place.”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s never usually this clean?” Nico mused, trying to disperse the nerves bubbling in his chest.

“Potentially,” you retorted, still polite and lighthearted as your eyes continued to wander.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Nico huffed out with a laugh, closing the door behind you before shifting his attention to the two toddlers who had now hidden themselves back behind the couch. “Otto, Marley, I thought you wanted to meet our new friend.”

Your smile became less performative and more genuine as the two heads peeked from around the couch to stare at you curiously. They slowly wandered over, keeping close to Nico until they were practically hiding behind him with just enough visibility to keep watching you.

You crouched down, smiling softly as you offered them a wave. “Hi there, your dad has told me so much about you two.”

Marley blinked before looking up at Nico, her little hands clinging onto the fabric of his jeans. “Papa?”

“It’s okay, baby, you can talk to her,” Nico assured, his thumb lightly smoothing over the back of her head as she tried to hide her face against his thigh.

It was Otto who tilted his head at you, looking more curious than anything. “Do you want to play mini sticks?”

Nico watched your brows furrow with confusion but you kept a smile on your face. “I would love to! Is it okay if you teach me? I don’t think I have played before.”

Marley gasped, no longer bothered with hiding behind her father’s leg as she stepped around him. “You never play mini sticks before?”

You flashed her a sheepish smile. “I have never played any hockey before.”

“We will teach you,” she said with a confident nod that made Nico grin.

“Watch out,” Nico commented, his words teasing but his gaze for his children adoring. “They are vicious. They are winners.”

“Just like Papa,” Otto confirmed with a nod of his head.

“We will teach you to win,” Marley said, also nodding her head.

You smiled at the two of them. “I can’t wait.”

…

Over the next two weeks, Nico was pretty happy to report that his judge of character was, in fact, good.

Despite his parents’ concern over leaving everything so last minute, the lead up to the preseason wasn’t as stressful as he imagined. As much as Jack joked about Nico being helicopter parent, he did tend to hover over the first few sessions just to make sure the twins were happy and content.

Marley tended to take a little longer to warm up to new people, a little shy and cautious but still eager to make new friends. Otto was a little better but he tended to always look towards Nico when he needed to ask something, like a little confidence boost to make sure he wasn’t doing something he wasn’t meant to. And much to everyone’s amusement, they tended to be just as stubborn as he was.

He just wanted to make sure they would be okay when he eventually left for training camp.

Nico was honestly a little dumbfounded just how much the twins liked you. Even more so at how quickly you seemed to pick up on their habits, on their personalities, on their quirks that most nannies had tried to change.

He was glad the twins were happy but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little thrown off guard just how well you adapted to Otto and Marley.

One of the first times he really saw it was during a not-so-surprising morning tantrum from Otto who was being fussy and difficult and very, very loud.

Nico had suspected he hadn’t slept well, and had his theory confirmed when the young boy started fussing and trying to wake his sister up in the early hours of the morning. Nico was already awake before his alarm went off, bleary eyed and exhausted and holding onto the guilt that the jet lag was still messing with the twins’ sleep schedule after being in Switzerland for the last few months.

You arrived at the apartment sometime just before eight in the morning, your face scrunched in sympathy as Nico opened the door—still dressed in whatever ratty sweatpants and thoroughly worn hoodie he threw on at five in the morning when there was barely any light in the room—looking like he kind of wanted his eardrums to burst already.

Nico opened his mouth, greetings and apologies ready to tumble out but you just shook your head with a sheepish smile.

“I get it,” was all you said before you slid into the apartment, closing the door before the screams could disturb the neighbours anymore than they already had.

Nico had watched in a cloudy daze as you kneeled down on the floor beside the couch Otto had thrown himself over, your voice patient and soothing as you waited for him to lift his head before you finally reached out to lay a comforting hand on his back, like you wanted to make sure he saw you reach out first and make the decision on whether or not he wanted you to touch him.

It took a while before he fully calmed down from the breakdown, still sniffly and red eyed by the time you coaxed the boy into enjoying some mini pancakes whilst some random cartoon played on the tv.

Nico could only mutter his thanks so many times as he handed you a generously large mug of coffee.

And it continued like that over the introductory period.

The twins started to pick up on the routine, and started to expect you in the house by the time they woke up. They started looking forward to you arriving, like a fun new step in their morning routine they welcomed far easier than they had with previous nannies.

There were still moments where their eyes would look for him, look to their father to make sure he was still there and everything was okay. But the initial shyness disappeared, replaced with a familiarity they shared with few other people in their lives, like the team or family back in Switzerland.

It made Nico feel a lot more settled by the time the preseason games came along.

Nico had left the apartment during the twins’ afternoon nap, pressing two lingering kisses on their foreheads before he snuck out to head to the rink. He had been procrastinating, finding excuses to stay in the apartment until the last possible moment, clinging onto the last dregs of summer before the season truly started.

The game was as rough as one would expect after months without hockey. But it felt good. It felt even better when the final buzzer sounded through the Rock and the Devils came out the other end of their first preseason game of the year as the victors. It felt really good to have hockey back.

And it felt even better to finally get back home to his kids.

He knew it was past their bedtime and tried to tamper down his expectations, but it didn’t change the sense of relief that washed over him as he walked through the front door and let himself drop his bags by the entryway before walking further into the apartment.

He was mildly surprised to find you sitting on the couch with the post game show on.

He was even more surprised at the two sleeping figures curled up with their heads on your lap.

“Oh hey, you’re back.”

Nico stood a few feet away from the couch, staring at the scene in front of him with tired eyes.

“Oh, right, sorry,” you laughed a little, an almost sleepy smile on your face as you looked down at the twins. “They insisted they wanted to watch the game and promptly passed out during the first break. But every time I tried to move them, they would get fussy and insist they were awake to watch you so I just let them doze off here.”

Nico’s voice was soft when he spoke. “You let them watch?”

You gave him a weird look. “Yeah? Was I not meant to? They really wanted to—”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured you, a weird tightness in his chest as he wandered closer, his lips twitching when he saw Marley holding onto your ankle. “The other nannies usually sent them to bed. They didn’t want to sit and watch the games themselves.”

“Well, I can’t say I knew what was going on,” you admitted sheepishly. “The twins tried explaining some of it to me but I have a feeling you don’t get penalties for nap times.”

Nico snorted. “Jack told them once that if they get a penalty, they can take a nap in the box.”

“Sounds like a fun rule,” you teased with a smile.

“Let me help you get them to bed,” Nico insisted as he leaned down, slowly and carefully picking Marley up into his arms.

“You sure?” You asked, even as you moved to pick Otto up without waking him. “You must be tired.”

“I’m fine,” Nico said, smiling a little. “It’s only the first game. Wait until we are halfway through the season.”

“I may be strong but not strong enough to drag a two hundred pound hockey player to bed,” you told him, your smile widening as Nico let out a laugh—one he quickly had to muffle before he woke up the twins.

“You might have to start increasing your bench press then.”

The tightness in his chest settled a little after you fondly rolled your eyes at him. It made the idea of the one day road trips on the preseason schedule a little easier to deal with. There were still a few more weeks before either of you had to deal with Nico being gone for longer roadies, but he didn’t fear the idea as much as he did.

…

“So.”

Nico let out a hum of acknowledgement, his eyes focused on the drill the third line was currently running. His lungs were still trying to recover from doing it himself a few minutes ago.

“I was right about her, wasn’t I?”

Nico blinked before he turned his head to look at the way Jack was leaning against his stick, a smug expression painted on his face. “What?”

“The nanny,” Jack replied like it was obvious. “I was right about her, right? She’s perfect for the twins.”

Nico resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Are you really trying to boast in the middle of practice?”

“Yes,” Jack replied with no hesitation.

“She is good,” Nico nodded because he wasn’t going to lie, even if said lie would stop Jack’s ego inflating. “The twins love her—”

“More than me?”

“Oh my god,” Nico groaned, shoving the boy away with a laugh.

“I’m serious, Nico, do they love her more than me? Because then you have to fire her.”

Nico didn’t respond, just shaking his head before he skated towards where Jonas and Timo were standing a few feet away.

“Nico, am I still their favourite?!”

…

“So, what? You can just hit each other and no one says anything?”

Nico laughed. “Basically.”

“This sport feels barbaric,” you murmured, your focus on the vegetables you were currently dicing. It took you a few moments to process your own words before your head snapped up. “In a really cool way, obviously.”

“It’s a part of the game,” Nico replied with a shrug. “And sometimes the fights are justified. Sometimes you are fighting for your teammate’s honour.”

“How noble,” you teased.

“Give it a few more games and it will be your favourite part of hockey,” Nico mused before his eyes briefly glanced over at the clock.

His mother always liked to joke that if there was one thing that really assured the twins were his children, it was their napping abilities. It was almost impressive how quickly they could pass out, dead to the world and happy to stay that way for two or three hours.

It rivalled the naps he took before games.

“Okay, so hitting is allowed,” you commented, gently elbowing him out the way so you could pour the diced vegetables into the pan on the stove. “Otto said helmet kisses are essential. Is that true?”

Nico’s grin widened. “Yeah, they are essential,” he nodded. “Like after a win or a good goal, it’s normal to just…bop your helmets together.”

“Like gentle rhinos,” you mused. “Who would’ve thought hockey was such a cute and violent sport?”

“You really didn’t know anything about it?” Nico questioned. He noticed the way you tended not to talk about yourself too much, nothing beyond the facts he could pick between random comments and conversations here and there. Mostly when he was listening to you talk to the twins.

“We weren’t really a hockey family,” you admitted sheepishly. “Nana said she did have a baseball phase but only because she liked the way the boys looked in the uniforms.”

Nico let out a surprised laugh. “She told you that?”

“You’d understand if you met her,” you muttered, though it sounded fond rather than annoyed. “She’s shameless and crude and the most honest person you’ll ever meet.”

“Think I could make her a hockey fan?” Nico asked, raising his brows.

“She would probably love the violence,” you replied with a snort. “You might have a new coach on your hands.”

“It would help you learn the game,” Nico teased.

You let out a groan. “How was I supposed to know the twins were lying about the pancake rule?”

Nico pressed his lips together to hold back his laugh. “You really thought there was a rule called the pancake penalty?”

“Well with the amount all of you fall on the ice over nothing, it wouldn’t surprise me,” you retorted.

“Touché.”

…

Thankfully for Nico’s sanity, the season started with a string of home games.

It helped to live in the delusion of summer a little longer. He would go to practices and go to games but he would always come home to his apartment at the end, come home to the twins and to you and to the little bubble the four of you had created over the last few weeks.

And it was clear that the twins loved it too, loved having you around more than he had ever seen with any previous nanny.

“GOAL!”

You let out a cheer, lifting your arms up to mimic Otto before he rushed towards you and threw his arms around your neck.

“We did it, we did it!” He continued to cheer, giggling away as Nico let out a playful groan from the mini net he had set up in the living room.

“It’s okay, Papa,” Marley assured him, one hand placed on his cheek as she spoke to him. “You are not a good goalie but you are a good player!”

Nico huffed out a laugh, pulling Marley close to him as she squealed. “I think we will leave Uncle Marky in the goals for now, yeah?”

“Otto, honey, remember what we do after a game,” you reminded the young boy in a soft voice as he happily propped himself on your lap.

“Be a good person,” he nodded before looking at his father with big eyes. “Good game. I like playing with you. I love you.”

You grinned. “Perfect, honey.”

Marley tilted her head. “Why do you say that?”

You glanced up at her, raising your brows. “What?”

“Honey,” Marley repeated, a crease forming between her brows as she looked between you and Nico. “I thought we eat honey.”

“We do,” you nodded. “But sometimes you call someone honey when you care about them. It’s like a nickname. My grandma calls me honey because she cares about me.”

Marley nodded like she understood.

“Does that mean we call you honey?” Otto asked, tilting his head back to look up at you. “We care about you.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, you can call me honey.”

“It sounds funny,” Marley admitted with a giggle before turning back to Nico. “Papa, you have to say it too!”

Nico nodded, his own smile widening when his daughter nodded in approval. “And do I get to call you honey?”

“No,” Marley said with a shake of her head. “It’s Honey’s name now!”

But before Nico could respond, Otto was back on his feet with a mini stick in one hand and the makeshift puck in the other.

“Honey, we are the winners!”

…

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad was the tantrum?”

“Not bad actually,” Nico admitted as Jack settled into the free seat next to him. “I think the excitement of Honey having a three day sleepover with them took away from the fact I wouldn’t be there.”

The bus fell silent.

Jack looked far too smug.

Nico could feel his cheeks burning up.

Jonas turned around in his seat to look at him. “Honey?”

“It’s not like that,” Nico rushed to explain but he had a feeling none of the boys were buying what he was saying. “The twins call her Honey and I don’t want to confuse them—”

“Uh huh,” Nate snorted. “Bud, those two are little Einsteins. There’s no way that would confuse them.”

Nico’s cheeks burned hotter.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Timo asked with a grin.

“Shut up,” Nico muttered out, taking the bundled up hoodie Jack had been using as a pillow to throw at the other man a few rows down.

“Hey!” Jack gaped.

“It’s nothing, don’t make it weird,” Nico said to the group, choosing to pointedly ignore the murmurs and looks of disbelief. “She’s the twins’ nanny.”

Nico also chose to ignore the way Jonas muttered ‘liar’ under his breath in Swiss German.

…

The call rang through three times before you picked up.

It was barely dinner time in Colorado, most boys happy to get settled in their hotel rooms and enjoy the night off to relax and prepare for the early practice in the morning. But it gave Nico the perfect opportunity to check in back home, have some time on the phone before the twins’ bedtime.

His stomach was twisted in knots like it usually was when he left the twins until the sight of all three of you popped up on his screen.

“Papa!”

His grin widened at the excitement in his kids’ voices. He didn’t think he would ever get sick of that.

“Woah, where’s all this energy coming from?” Nico questioned, watching fondly as the twins instantly broke into giggles, turning back to look at you before turning their attention back to their father.

“Honey said we would have dessert if we were good,” Otto told him, still grinning.

“We had chocolate!” Marley exclaimed.

“Well, you both were very good today,” you said, propping your phone up on the coffee table before letting yourself sit back on the floor, both twins determined to sit on your lap. “Good kids get good rewards.”

“And chocolate is the best,” Nico added, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Especially if it’s Swiss chocolate.”

“Swiss chocolate is the best because Swiss is the best,” Otto nodded.

“Switzerland, schätzli,” Nico corrected with a small huff of laughter. “The country is called Switzerland but the people and the things are Swiss.”

“Oh,” Otto said before turning to look at you. “Honey, we are Swiss!”

You laughed, nodding. “My favourite Swiss people.”

“Including Papa?” Marley asked.

“Of course,” you nodded, shooting Nico an amused look. “All three of you.”

The twins beamed in response. Nico felt the odd urge to do the same.

“Are you excited for your sleepover with Honey?” Nico asked, feeling a little smug when the twins did exactly what he assumed they would and instantly started babbling away about how they had spent their day since he left for the bus earlier that morning.

It was around an hour or so later—after Nico had stayed on the phone for a bedtime story because the twins insisted he needed to hear one too—that Nico found himself just looking at you over the phone as you shuffled around the living room, cleaning up the last of the twins’ toys.

“Thank you,” Nico found himself saying before he could second-guess himself.

You looked confused. “For what?”

“Just being here this season,” Nico confessed, a lot more going unspoken.

He wanted to tell you that he had never felt so at ease about leaving his kids with someone as much as he did with you. He wanted to tell you that he had never seen his kids so happy and bubbly around someone that wasn’t his family or his team. He wanted to tell you that he never thought he would find the person that fit the unreachable standard he made in his head when he was looking for a nanny for the twins and you seemed to go above and beyond.

He wanted to tell you a lot but it was late and he didn’t think a facetime call during his first proper roadie of the season was the time to confess any of it.

“Of course,” you said with a smile that made his stomach twist—in a good way. “You gonna win tomorrow?”

Nico chuckled. “We’ll try.”

“Good,” you grinned. “You’ll have your biggest fans rooting for you back home in Jersey.”

His mouth was moving before he could even process his own thoughts. “Does that include you?”

But you laughed and something in him eased.

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to understand this whole hockey thing.”

Nico found his smile widening. “Good.”

…

Nico felt like he blinked when suddenly the calendar was showing November.

The pace of the season felt a lot faster than usual, and he was yet to work out if that was for better or for worse. But the team was feeling good, they had more wins than losses and—even if he wouldn’t say it out loud in fear of jinxing something before it happened—he had a really good feeling about this year’s team.

Even as the aches and pains and bruises that usually came after weeks of non-stop hockey started to return, Nico found himself really enjoying the season in a way he hadn’t really experienced in a while.

It felt good when everything was starting to click into place, even off the ice.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

Nico paused peeling the banana he was currently holding. “Wrong?”

Otto nodded, pouting up at his father.

“You’re not doing it the Honey way,” Marley said, pressing herself against his thigh like she usually did when she was tired and barely awake and still a bit fussy from Nico waking her up.

“The Honey way?” Nico questioned, glancing down at the banana with a pensive look. He didn’t realise there were multiple ways to peel and cut a banana.

“She makes the best!” Otto insisted.

Nico let out a sigh as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of both of their heads. “How about you both go wait on the couch and I’ll call Honey so we can make breakfast the Honey way?”

“Call?” Marley repeated, blinking up at him. “I wanna talk to Honey!”

“Me too!”

“It’s Honey’s day off,” Nico reminded his children in a soft voice. “We don’t want to disturb her when she is busy, yes?”

His heart clenched at the way the twins both deflated.

“Okay, Papa.”

He didn’t get the chance to say much else before they rushed off into the other room, leaving him feeling sluggish and far too on edge as he reached for his phone, pressing your contact before he could let himself spiral over his children’s dejected faces.

“Hey, is everything okay? Are the twins okay? Are you okay?”

“I—” Nico blinked, taking a few moments to really process the words you blurted out the second the call connected. “Yeah, everything is okay. Sorry to call you on your day off.”

“It’s okay. I really don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to keep you long,” Nico started, staring down at the bananas on the counter in front of him with a frown. “Just wanted to know how you make banana pancakes the Honey way.”

“The Honey way?”

“The twins seem insistent that it’s the only way to make them,” Nico nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “Apparently I’m cutting the bananas wrong?”

His chest tightened even more at the sound of your laugh.

“You have to mash them in Marley’s Spiderman bowl,” you said, and even if he couldn’t see you, he swore you were smiling too. “It makes them taste better, apparently. Helps them be big and strong for the rest of the day like a real superhero.”

“Of course,” Nico huffed out a laugh, already moving to the cupboard where the bowl was kept. “Thanks. And sorry for bothering you again.”

“It’s really no worries. I was just heading over to visit Nana anyways. She won’t mind if I’m a few minutes late.”

“Say hi from me?”

“Of course.”

“Bye, Honey.”

“See you tomorrow, Nico.”

…

“Oh, he’s pretty.”

“Nana!”

“What?” The older woman exclaimed, waving you off. “I am just calling it as it is. And he’s a pretty boy. Nice smile. Nicer body–”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, lightly smacking her arm as Bernice from the other table looked over with a bitter look. “Keep your voice low.”

“Ignore her,” Nana commented offhandedly as she reached for her teacup. “She is just bitter because I said you were too pretty for her grandson.”

“How are you the same woman who scolded me about manners?” You grumbled under your breath, letting out a small hiss when she pinched your side.

“I am not saying anything wrong,” Nana insisted. “You’re a pretty girl who deserves a handsome man. Bernice’s grandson is not that man. This one though—”

“He’s my boss.”

“You say that like it’s an issue.”

You blinked. “It is.”

“Youths these days,” Nana huffed before she leaned back in her armchair. “Fine, forget the pretty European man. Tell me, are the kids better than those brats you watched in Manhattan?”

“They weren’t that bad,” you tried to start but the look you got in response made you wince. “Okay, the Smythe’s weren’t the best. But, Nana, these kids are…perfect. The cutest kids ever, and you wouldn’t believe how smart they are.”

“You’re happy here, yes?” Nana asked, something a little more serious in her voice. “Because I don’t want you working somewhere for the sake of it if you aren’t—”

“I’m happy, I promise,” you assured her with a softer smile, placing your hand over hers. “They are a good family.”

“As long as they are taking care of you,” she insisted.

“They are,” you promised.

Nana hummed. “Could also let that boss of yours take care of you in other ways—”

Your cheeks burned. “Nana!”

“He has dimples, honey! Dimples!”

“I thought you called me here to tell me the bingo gossip.”

“Oh, you would not believe the stunt Janice pulled—”

…

“Quick, Honey, quick!”

You grinned as you walked through the door, barely letting it shut behind you before you were crowded by two little humans. It was barely eight in the morning and you felt far from being human yourself, but the sight of both twins smiling up at you like they were waiting to jump on you the moment you walked through the door made it easy to forget the fact the sun had barely peeked through the clouds outside.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you sang back, trying to take your jacket off and hug the twins back the best you could all at once. “You two are very hyper this morning.”

“We are going to the park with Uncle Jack!” Otto said excitedly, his chin digging into your thigh as he looked up at you.

You raised your brows in surprise. “We are?”

“Yeah,” Nico appeared from the kitchen, a sheepish expression on his face. “I meant to message you last night to come over later but I forgot.”

“I can leave—” You started but a small whine cut you off.

“But we are going to the park with Uncle Jack,” Marley pouted. “You can’t leave!”

“Marley,” Nico quickly moved to kneel beside his daughter. “Honey will come back later. But she doesn’t have to—”

“But Uncle Jack said we were all going to the park,” Otto frowned, looking between you and Nico with a wounded expression.

“Then we are all going,” you promised as you kneeled down too, giving the twins a smile.

Nico looked over their heads, giving you a grateful smile. “You really don’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” you waved him off. “It’ll be fun.”

“Jack is basically a third kid,” Nico warned you, though his voice was playful.

“Good thing you’re not gonna have to deal with them alone,” you retorted, feeling a little more awake when he grinned back at you.

…

“TAG, YOU’RE IT!”

Nico beamed as he watched the twins running down the path, giggling and screaming as Jack chased after them. They were both bundled up, not causing as much of a fuss about the hats and gloves you coaxed them into wearing before they left the house. It probably had something to do with the twins being more excited about you meeting Jack than focusing on the extra layers.

“They really like him,” you commented, your arm lightly brushing against his as you walked side by side.

“He was there from day one,” Nico said, sounding nostalgic. “He’s probably one of their favourite people in this world.”

“And he loves them just as much,” you noted. “That much was clear from the questions he asked in the initial interview.”

Nico laughed, turning to glance at you. “Oh god, I don’t think I ever asked what he asked you.”

“A lot of hypotheticals,” you responded. “They started off normal, like what if they both wanted an apple but there was only one left or if they wanted to go to the park on a rainy day. Then they got progressively more unrealistic.”

Nico’s eyes were still on you. “Like what?”

“I think there was one about how I would protect the twins if the city was taken over by vampires,” you mused.

“And how would you?” Nico questioned, his voice serious but the expression on his face was lighthearted and teasing.

“Hunt the vampires, obviously.”

Nico let out a loud but sudden laugh. “Yeah?”

“I’ve watched Buffy The Vampire Slayer,” you insisted, trying and failing to keep a serious face. “What more research do you need?”

“They wouldn’t know what’s coming for them,” Nico added, lightly nudging his arm against yours and silently being pleased when you didn’t move away from the touch.

“Don’t underestimate me, Hischier,” you grinned, your eyes gleaming. “I may not be any good at mini sticks but I have other skills you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.”

Nico could only shake his head fondly in response.

“HEY, LOVEBIRDS, YOU’RE THE NEW CATCHERS!” Jack called out, each hand held by one of the twins as they all giggled.

Nico liked to believe his cheeks were pink because of the cold weather, no other reason.

…

By the time December came along, Nico had forgotten all about how stressed and helpless he had felt that summer when everyone bugged him about hiring a nanny for the twins.

Thankfully, his mother had not. She tended to remind him every time they spoke on the phone, in a passing but teasing comment here or there slipped into the conversation. But she did enjoy reminding him whenever the topic of you and the twins came up.

This time was no different.

“It looks like your stubbornness paid off.”

Nico rolled his eyes, only to feel guilty by the action a few moments later even if his mother couldn’t see him right now. “I told you I would find the perfect person for the twins.”

“And is she? Perfect for the twins?”

“She gets them,” Nico said like that explained it all, and it did. Because even though the past nannies he had hired were good and treated the twins well when they cared for them, there was something about you that just clicked with the twins.

You didn’t just treat them like children. They were two humans in your mind, who had their own likes and dislikes and personalities, and you just seemed to understand them almost as well as Nico did. He knew from day one that the twins would constantly be placed together, that there would be many assumptions made of the two of them being the same because they were twins. But you had never treated them as such.

It was different to past nannies who enjoyed the job but were ultimately there for the paycheck. Sometimes, it felt like you were really there for the twins.

It settled something inside him that Nico had no idea he wanted until he met you, until he saw how you cared for his children.

“Good,” his mother hummed, and he could almost imagine the way she was nodding as she spoke. “So we will see her at Christmas?”

“I—“ Nico quickly cut himself off, focusing on keeping his car from jerking into the other lane. “No? I don’t know? I can’t expect her to work on Christmas—”

“She’s a part of the family, Nico.”

“You haven’t even met her,” Nico found himself saying, which was true. Beyond a few waves and general greetings in the back of some FaceTime calls, none of his family had met you.

But there was a voice in the back of his head that really wanted to change that.

“Yes, but you care for her and so do the twins. And she cares for you three too. In my eyes, she’s a part of the family.”

His chest tightened at his mother’s words.

“I’ll ask her,” he found himself saying before he could stop himself. “But no promises.”

…

If there was one thing you could always rely on, it was the shitty winter weather in New Jersey.

The sky felt permanently grey over the last few days, dark clouds and overcast hovering over the state like a threat of the weather soon to come. The temperatures dropped and the forecasts of snow and sleet and rain started to trickle through the radio stations as you drove to and from Nico’s place and your own apartment.

You thought it would be a nuisance at most.

As it would have it, you would be eating your own words mere days later when the snow only got heavier during the day and you were starting to wonder when experts could officially name it a blizzard.

“Will the plane drivers still be allowed to fly the planes?” Otto asked, sleepy and sluggish as he fought the urge to finally close his eyes the second you finished their bedtime story.

“The pilots will still be able to fly their planes,” you assured the young boy, pushing his curls away from his face. “Don’t worry, okay? They will be here for Christmas. You know how I know that?”

Otto blinked slowly. “How?”

“Because Santa will make sure your family are here for Christmas,” you whispered, watching as the boy grinned up at you.

“Santa will bring them?”

“If he must,” you nodded, slowly pushing yourself to stand up. “But only if you’re good and go to sleep like your sister.”

Otto briefly turned his head to look at Marley—who was already fast asleep, cheek pressed against her pillow and small puffs of air leaving her mouth—before nodding to you. “I will sleep. Goodnight, Honey. Forehead kiss, please.”

“Goodnight, bud,” you grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead and then Marley’s before you made your way to the door.

You slowly shut the door behind you, knowing full well that Otto would be out like a light in a few minutes. But you didn’t want to test your luck, trying to keep yourself from making too much noise as you made your way into the living room.

Nico was already sitting on the couch, a few storage boxes sprawled around him. He looked as though he was lost in his own head, a scrapbook sat on his lap that he slowly flipped through with a fond smile on his face.

“Reminiscing?”

His head snapped up, a light blush on his cheeks from getting caught but the smile remained on his face. “Uh, yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and soft. “Nina said she wanted to add some pages with photos from the summer so I was just digging it out.”

You raised your brows. “May I?”

“Please,” Nico insisted, patting the spot next to him and laying the scrapbook over your lap too. “She started it the first summer I took the twins to Switzerland. I would do it myself but she is far better at this stuff than I am.”

“Is this them as newborns?” You asked, your heart melting at the photos of the twins as babies as you flipped to the start of the scrapbook. “Oh my god, they were the cutest lil’ things ever.”

“Still are,” Nico answered proudly, puffing his chest a little.

“They are,” you nodded in agreement, your fingers lightly skimming over the photos before your eyes caught one of Nico fast asleep on the ground beside the twins’ crib, a Devils branded blanket thrown over him. “Oh wow.”

Nico’s cheeks darkened but his smile seemed softer. “They were only a few weeks old and I had no idea what I was doing. I think I was running on two, maybe three hours of sleep there. Jack took that photo, said it was funny seeing all three Hischiers down for a nap.” There was a small pause before he continued. “Jack took most of these photos in the first few weeks.”

You turned to look at him instead of the scrapbook. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Nico nodded. “I was a total mess the first few weeks, couldn’t even begin to consider picking up my phone to capture the moment. But Jack knew I would regret it after, took it upon himself to try and capture as many early memories as he could.”

“Nothing can really prepare you for parenthood,” you said, lightly nudging your shoulder against his. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“It’s harder to be prepared when you had no idea you were even having kids,” Nico added, but the joking tone fell flat. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“I mean,” you started, a sheepish smile on your face. “It’s none of my business and you don’t have to say anything but—”

“But you’re curious?” Nico finished.

You nodded.

“It was a one night stand,” Nico admitted, his shoulders dropping a little. “She didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. I think she thought she would be fine by herself but…things changed.”

You didn’t say anything, letting the boy get the story out but you did rest your hand on his arm, hoping the small touch would be comforting enough.

“I think we were a few games away from finishing the season,” Nico continued. “It was clear the Devils weren’t making the playoffs and I honestly wanted nothing more than to get on a plane and fly out to Switzerland to deal with the disappointing season back home. Then, child services were getting in touch and showing up at my door with these two babies and telling me they were mine and—”

He let out a shuddering breath.

“She left me a letter,” he murmured. “Saying she was sorry for not reaching out sooner. Saying she didn’t want any parental rights, that I had full custody. Saying that she hoped I wouldn’t judge her for wanting to keep living her life, to not let kids hold her back.”

You squeezed his arm.

“I was a wreck,” Nico confessed, almost sounding remorseful. “Jack came over because we were meant to drive to the rink together for practice and I just…broke down. I don’t even know what happened in those first few hours, it was all a blur to me. I didn’t know the first thing about being a dad, let alone to twins and neither did he. But he stayed and he helped, because that’s the kind of friend he is.”

You smiled softly.

“His mother, Ellen, was actually a huge lifesaver,” Nico said, his lips twitching upwards like he was remembering a fond memory. “She was already in Jersey for a few games but Jack called her, explained everything that was happening and she helped, at least until my own parents could fly out. That summer was…a mess. That whole year was but I wouldn’t have been able to do it without any of them.”

“You have a really good team behind you, Nico,” you said, the strongest urge to speak in a whisper and keep your voice low so you wouldn’t ruin the moment. “Both on and off the ice.”

“I do,” Nico gave you a genuine smile. “You’re a part of that team too.”

You returned the smile. “I am.”

“Uh,” Nico cleared his throat. “About that.”

You raised your brows in questioning.

“If you don’t have any other plans, you’re invited here to join us for Christmas,” Nico said, choosing to leave out the fact his mother had been insisting you join in every phone call he has had with her. “I know the twins would love to have you here and…so would I.”

“Aren’t your family flying in?” You asked, a crease forming between your brows. “I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“You’re not,” Nico insisted. “We want you there. I want you there.”

“I’m visiting Nana in the morning but I could come after,” you said, something twisting in your stomach at the way his face brightened.

“Yeah, perfect,” he nodded, smiling broadly. “You’ll get to experience a proper Hischier Christmas.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Maybe.”

You opened your mouth, a teasing reply on the tip of your tongue when the moment was broken by a deep, booming gust of wind howling and hitting against the windows of the apartment complex. It snapped the soft, whispering atmosphere as the reality of the worsening weather outside hit you.

“Fuck,” you murmured, watching as the flurry of snow rushed down. “I should probably head back before the roads get worse.”

Nico turned to look through the window, frowning. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to drive so late?”

You shrugged. “I’ll go slow.”

His frown deepened.

“It will be fine,” you tried to assure him but Nico was already shaking his head.

“Nonsense,” he said, turning back to look at you. “You can stay in the spare room. I can give you some stuff to sleep in too. That weather isn’t safe to drive in, especially this late.”

Your instant reaction was to reject the offer but you spotted the look on his face, the genuine fear and concern written so blatantly in his expression and you found yourself nodding instead.

“If you are sure,” you said with a nod.

“I’m sure,” he nodded, his lips twitching as he stood up from the couch. “Plus, the twins will be so excited to see you in the morning.”

And he was correct. The twins were crawling into the guest bed beside you before the sun had properly risen the second they caught wind of you staying over for the night.

…

“Meeting the family, huh?”

“Nana,” you groaned, ignoring the happy cackle she let out as you bundled up the scarf you were wearing moments ago and threw it in her direction. “It’s not like that.”

“But it should be like that,” Nana insisted with a wistful sigh. “What is taking this man so long? Look at you!”

“Maybe because he is professional and only sees me as the caretaker of his children,” you deadpanned. “You know, that job he hired me for?”

“Bah!” Nana waved you off, shaking her head. “I want his eyes checked. You’re a catch, honey.”

“You are so dramatic,” you murmured under your breath, but there was something quite fond in your voice. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want a relationship right now?”

“No,” Nana replied bluntly. “Because you would never deprive your sweet grandmother of seeing her favourite grandchild finally find love before she kicks the bucket.”

“Sweet is not the word I would use,” you retorted, just managing to miss her fingers pinching your side. “Hey, that’s not very festive!”

“Yes, yes, Merry Christmas and all that,” Nana said as she leaned forward, taking your face in her hands as she pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Now, tell me your present to me is a ring that hot European boss of yours gave you.”

You could feel your face heating up. “Nana!”

“I will also take a scarf, I’m not picky.”

…

If there was any doubt in your mind before (which there was not), spending Christmas with the Hischiers confirmed they were, in fact, the nicest family you had ever met.

You had spent the last few months with Nico and the twins, knew their mannerisms and their personalities and the way they lived their lives. You had also nannied for many families before them and you knew what a draw of luck it was to score a job with a family as sweet and wholesome as them.

You just never expected the whole family to be like that.

From the second you walked through the door, it was clear that that was just the way the Hischiers lived their lives.

Katja had you in a hug before you could even take your jacket off, squeezing you close and tight as she murmured something about how well you were taking care of her baby and her grandbabies. Rino had a glass of wine and a plate of finger foods in your hand before you could even think about your rumbling stomach. Even Nina and Luca had taken it upon themselves to take the seats beside you on the living room couch, happy to talk away like you had always been a part of the family.

It was heartwarming and overwhelming in the best way possible, but you were pretty sure that was just the Hischier effect.

“I wanna give Honey her present next!” Marley exclaimed, wiggling out of Rino’s arms as she rushed towards her father with an excited smile. “Please, Papa?”

“Me too! Me too!” Otto called out, perking up from his spot on Nico’s lap.

“Here you both go,” Nico grinned, almost looking mischievous as he handed them both a wrapped present each.

“Oh, for me?” You gasped as they rushed over to you, both presents extended out to you as they gripped them with their little hands. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, we do,” Marley said with a nod. “It’s Christmas!”

Your lips twitched upwards at their giggles as you carefully unwrapped the presents as quickly as you could, sensing their own childish impatience. Your surprise became a little more genuine and honest when you saw the gifts laid out on your lap.

There were two separate sweaters—which were sweet and considerate in their own right, and undoubtedly chosen by Nico—but your focus was on the two framed photos underneath the sweaters. Each had been drawn by one of the twins, different versions of one of the many days you three and Nico had spent together.

“Honey?”

You sniffled a little, looking up to find both twins standing in front of you with little frowns on their faces. “Thank you, both of you,” you said as sincerely as you could. “This is the best present I have ever gotten.”

“But you’re crying,” Otto pointed out with a frown.

“Do you not like it?” Marley asked, nervously playing with the hem of her dress.

“No, no, I love it,” you quickly reassured the twins, carefully moving the gifts to the side as you pulled them both into a hug. “They are happy tears! Sometimes when you feel really happy, you can cry too. It’s not a bad thing.”

Otto looked up at you. “Happy tears?”

“Happy tears,” you confirmed with a nod.

“We like happy tears?” Marley asked.

“We do,” you promised before leaning down to peck them both on the forehead. “Thank you for the presents and the happy tears.”

Both of the twins beamed, leaning up to press their own kisses to either one of your cheeks before they turned to look at their father.

“Papa, you’re next!”

Nico’s gaze was already on the three of you, soft and fond, before he snapped out of his own daze. He looked a little embarrassed as he reached for a box, letting Otto and Marley happily carry it back to you. “I don’t think I can compete with the twins but…Merry Christmas.”

You had barely ripped through the wrapping paper before the twins were squealing happily, their little hands helping remove the rest of the wrapping before pushing your present towards you.

“Honey has a jersey!”

“My own jersey?” Your smile widened as you lifted the red jersey, grinning at the Devils logo and the number thirteen on the sleeves.

“Your own lucky jersey,” Nico corrected, grinning back.

“Just like us!” Otto gasped happily.

“Just like you,” you laughed, turning the jersey to find ‘HISCHIER’ printed across the back. You dropped the jersey to your lap as your eyes found Nico again. “Thank you, Nico.”

“And selfishly,” he started as he leaned over to hand you an envelope. “I am hoping the jersey will tempt you to accept this gift too.”

You shot him a confused look but accepted the envelope, quickly tearing it open and pulling out the contents to find two tickets. “Game day tickets?”

“Only fair that the new hockey fan gets to experience a game in person,” Nico beamed. “And there’s a second ticket for Nana too, if she wants to come.”

“You seem so sure she will support the Devils,” you teased, swallowing the emotion that laid thick in the back of your throat at the idea of him including Nana in your gift.

“I got her a jersey too,” Nico retorted, looking far too pleased with himself.

You could have sworn Luca muttered something like ‘ass kisser’ under his breath but you weren’t too sure. The slap on the back of the head from Katja was telling though.

“Thank you,” you repeated, softer than before. For a moment, you almost swore Nico was blushing in response.

“Merry Christmas, Honey.”

…

“Tell me you and Honey got caught under some mistletoe and finally admitted your feelings for each other.”

Nico let out a heavy sigh, taking a long sip of his coffee as Jack settled into the passenger seat. “Good morning to you too.”

“So that’s a no,” Jack huffed, shaking his head.

“Told you so,” Luke spoke up as he climbed into the backseat, for once in his life looking awake at seven in the morning. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Shut up,” Jack grumbled. “God, Hisch, you had one fucking job.”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “I did?”

“Oh my god,” Jack groaned, leaning his head back against the rest. “It’s been ages. How much longer are you going to drag this out?”

“You are saying too many words,” Nico replied bluntly before he pulled away, letting muscle memory mostly take over as he began driving towards the rink.

“This is to spite me,” Jack insisted. “I find you a nanny who is perfect for the job AND for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“What?” Nico muttered. “Jack, I swear to god if this is the girlfriend thing again—”

“It is!”

“—I have other things to prioritise right now,” Nico insisted. “And Honey doesn’t feel that way. Our…relationship isn’t like that.”

Jack gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re shitting me, right? You’re just trying to wind me up, right?”

“I’m telling Timo to pick you up tomorrow if this is how you are going to act,” Nico muttered as he reached for his coffee cup again.

“I would wake up for morning skates way easier if I got this entertainment every time,” Luke commented from the backseat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up, Luke,” they both replied at the same time.

…

“You’re joking!”

“I’m not!”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, shaking your head as you turned to look at the boy in utter disbelief. “Nico, how could you—”

“I don’t know!” Nico groaned, even if he was smiling. “I just kinda…forgot English? And then I panicked and just found myself nodding before I even realised what I was agreeing to.”

It was a cold January day when the four of you found yourselves in the park once again. The twins seemed to have more energy than usual the second they woke up that morning. They were bouncing off the walls, barely able to sit still during breakfast before they were begging to get out of the house. And after a less than satisfactory start to the season in the new year, Nico was also eager to get out and away from anything hockey related and have a day out at the park.

“So, how was it?” You questioned, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Smelly,” Nico confessed with his nose scrunched up. “I mean, the equipment team loved me for the rest of my time there but…I would not recommend volunteering to clean hockey gear after a long tournament.”

“Gross,” you agreed.

“It prepared me pretty nicely for changing nappies though,” Nico admitted with a laugh. “I guess nothing can be worse than a hockey locker room.”

“Surely you’re used to it by now,” you pointed out.

“Yeah but doesn’t mean a break every once in a while isn’t nice,” Nico retorted, his eyes wandering over to where Otto and Marley were currently attempting to climb up the slide. “February can’t come soon enough.”

You looked surprised by his words. “You get a break in February?”

“All Stars,” Nico explained with a nod. “A few people get picked but everyone else gets a free week off to go somewhere hot and relaxing before the runup to playoffs.”

You lightly elbowed him. “Come on, Captain, surely you were picked.”

His cheeks burned a little but he shook his head. “Nope, I’m free this year.”

“Big plans?” You questioned.

“I wanted to do something for the twins' birthday,” he confessed. “Obviously, we will celebrate on the actual day but there’s going to be so much around hockey and playoffs and I just…I want them to have a proper celebration, even if it’s a little early and even if we do another one in Switzerland with my family.”

Your face softened. “That would be nice.”

“So,” Nico wiggled his brows. “Got any ideas where we could go?”

You tilted your head. “We?”

“What? You thought it was just going to be me and the twins?” Nico grinned, shaking his head and nudging you back with his shoulder. “We are a team now, Honey. The four of us.”

His words made butterflies erupt in your stomach but you quickly pushed that feeling away, focusing on the boy beside you on the bench instead.

“Well, in that case, I think Mexico is calling our name.”

Nico only beamed in response. “I was thinking the same.”

…

“You know, your grandfather never took me to Mexico.”

You tore your eyes away from the hand of cards you were dealt, instead glancing at Nana who sat on the opposite side of the table with a certain look on her face. You couldn’t quite work out whether or not it meant trouble.

“He isn’t taking me to Mexico for the hell of it,” you reminded your grandmother, taking another card from the deck with a frown. “I’m just technically doing my job internationally.”

Nana shot you a look over her cards. “You were meant to be the smart grandchild.”

You frowned. “Hey, rude.”

“Honey, one day it will hit you and I just pray that day happens in my lifetime,” Nana said, sounding wistful as she glanced down at her cards again. “Got any two’s?”

“No, go fish,” you murmured before giving her a pensive look. “You really think it means something that he is taking me to Mexico with the twins for a holiday?”

“Is he paying for your ticket?”

“Yes,” you grumbled. “I insisted but—”

“Then, it means something,” Nana shrugged like it was obvious. “And if you share a hotel room, you owe me lunch at that nice deli.”

Your cheeks burned. “Nana!”

“Don’t be such a prude,” she waved you off. “Now, hurry up before this game bites into my afternoon nap. I’m already feeling sleepy.”

You rolled your eyes before you asked for any three’s, even if your mind was preoccupied with three other people at that moment.

…

“You did well at All Stars, that second goal was a beauty.”

“You’re killing me here.”

Nico frowned. “Most people say thank you after a compliment.”

There was a buzz in the locker room that wasn’t there before the break. It was like reality was starting to sink in, the final run of regular season games ahead before playoffs had people itching to get back on the ice and prove themselves. The Devils have had quite a hot and cold season but Nico believes in his group, he knows they want this just as much as he does.

Everyone was walking into the locker room with a kick of motivation to show the other teams in the league just what damage they could do on the ice.

Everyone minus Jack who seemed annoyed at Nico, despite only being in his presence for thirty seconds.

“Dude,” Jack shot him a look. “Spill about the family holiday! Did you tell her? Did you make a move? Do I need to plan a wedding?”

“I–” Nico felt his heart stutter a little. “What? Jack, no, nothing happened.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

Nico paused. “What do you mean, what?”

“Nico,” Jack took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut as the rest of the locker room fell silent. “Let me get this straight. You go on vacation to Mexico with your kids and the girl who you definitely have feelings for despite what you tell us and…you do nothing?”

“Yes?”

“This is torture,” Jack muttered in utter disbelief, shaking his head. “You are beyond help.”

“Jack—”

“Fucking Mexico and you don’t make a move?”

“Well—”

“I’m overruling your captain title,” Jack interrupted, shaking his head. “You’re doing bag skates today.”

Nico blinked. “You can’t do that.”

“Well, I just did and Sheldon would agree with me,” Jack said in a know-it-all voice before he turned on his heel to head back to his stall.

Theatrics aside, Nico did spend the rest of the practice silently wondering if Jack had a point. He was too tired to keep lying to himself, at least. He knew whatever he felt for you was beyond platonic and professional, but that didn’t change the fact he was sure those feelings weren’t returned.

The two of you had a good thing going and Nico was not about to ruin that over the fact his heart sped up every time he thought about you.

It was a fleeting crush, he told himself. A fleeting crush on someone who was intertwined with his life and his kids’ life. It was just misplaced gratitude that he was reading into. That was all. He was sure of it.

…

“Honey?”

You turned away from the tv, glancing down to your lap to find Otto’s big eyes already staring up at you. “Yes?”

“You are going to stay with us, right?” Otto asked, his words completely catching you off guard and leaving your chest uncomfortably tight. Suddenly, the game was the last thing on your mind.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you tried to decipher his words.

Otto shrugged, suddenly looking down at his own hands rather than you.

You turned to find Marley looking just as downcast and it instantly made the hair on the back of your neck turn up. You reached over for the remote, neither of the twins awfully bothered when you muted the commentary before your full focus was on them.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You asked, urging yourself to remain calm and cautious, to not instantly freak out to the worst case scenario.

“All our friends leave,” Otto eventually muttered out, a frown on his face that made him look so much like Nico in those postgame interviews you had watched. “Papa says they will stay if we like them but then they go.” He paused before he lifted his head back to look at you. “I don’t want you to go, Honey.”

And if that wasn’t heartbreaking, you didn’t know what was.

Nico had told you briefly about some of the past nannies he had hired for the twins. The twins had liked a majority of them, had kept asking questions about where they had gone and if they were coming back.

And you knew it was hard. It was hard to explain things to kids who couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, who couldn’t understand their father’s decision to fire the previous nannies.

But it also meant that their young minds were left to fill the blanks.

“Oh, baby,” you shook your head, trying your best to give them both the most reassuring smile you could. “That has nothing to do with the two of you, I promise. You two are the best people ever. Your other friends had to leave for another reason—big adult things.”

Marley nuzzled herself closer to you. “Are you going to leave for big adult stuff?”

Your hand was instantly smoothing the curls away from her face, watching her let out a happy sigh as your nails lightly scratched along her scalp. “No, baby, of course not. Not unless you want me to go.”

Otto’s grip on you tightened. “We don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t,” you promised, even if that was something you knew better to not promise young children who took things far too literally and personally.

“Good,” Marley murmured, even if half of her face was squished against the jersey you were currently wearing for the game.

You glanced back down when you heard a few sniffles, frowning when you saw Otto scrubbing his little hands against his watery eyes. “Otto, baby, are you okay?”

He nodded, turning his head to look up at you. “Just happy you are staying.”

“Happy tears!” Marley said with a smile, like she was proud of herself for remembering it.

“You promise they are happy tears?” You asked, your chest tightening at the thought of the young boy being genuinely upset until he quickly nodded his head and held out his pinky to you.

“Pinky promise, Honey.”

You hooked your pinky around his. “You know you can tell me if you are upset, okay?”

“We know,” Otto nodded, settling his head back down on your lap with his attention on the game once again. “We tell you or Papa and you will help.”

Your hand instantly moved to tickle his back, smiling a little at the sigh he let out when you did so. Nico had told you the tip a few weeks ago but it was endearing to see how much he loved it.

“Yeah, we will always help you both. Pinky promise.”

For what it was worth, Nico scored less than two minutes later and the twins’ initial moods were completely overshadowed by the excitement and cheering in their celebration around the living room.

…

“Oh, spit it out already!”

In all honesty, Nana had lasted a lot longer than you anticipated. It was clear from the moment you walked through the door of the care home that you were distracted. She had enough respect to not call you out on it instantly, letting you play the part of a doting granddaughter as you made two cups of tea and settled on the couch in the lounge of the care home.

However, three abysmal games of checkers later, she had reached her limit.

“Nana, I’m fine.”

“And I was born last Tuesday if I believed that,” Nana scoffed, having little to no patience left as she swiped the pawns off the board and quickly ended the attempted fourth game. “There. Game over. Now talk.”

You let out a sigh as you slumped back in your seat. “It’s nothing really,” you started before noticing Nana was opening her mouth—most likely to complain—and quickly continued. “Just something the twins said.”

Nana paused, her voice a little softer as she spoke this time. “What happened?”

“I think I’m the longest nanny they have ever had around and they just have this fear I am going to leave. And they were fine once I assured them I was staying, they never brought it up again so there is nothing to worry about,” you began to ramble, the memory replaying in your head over the last few days. “I guess it just made me realise…”

“That you really care about these kids?” Nana finished for you.

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I do.”

“And that you care for their father too and it’s starting to hit you that there is a possibility that there will be a day that they may not need you anymore and it’s scaring you because of how fond you have grown of the family?” Nana continued.

You blinked.

“Too on the nose?” She had the audacity of asking with an innocent smile.

“Nana, what the f—” You quickly cut yourself, clearing your throat and, at least, having the decency of looking sheepish. “What the hell are you on about?”

“Honey, please,” Nana waved you off. “I have seen you nanny for many families and kids and never once have you walked through that door and gushed about them the way that you do with the Hischiers.”

You could feel your face heating up. “They are a good family! I don’t…it’s not like that.”

“Would you want it to be like that?” Nana asked.

You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just the nanny. I shouldn’t read into things that are never going to happen.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Nana pointed out. “If you’re not ready to admit it, then that’s fine. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have fallen in love with the family over the last few months and that they love you back.”

You stayed silent.

“You have spent the last few years taking care of me and a dozen other families,” Nana said, her tone more gentle as she reached over to take your hand in hers. “I have seen you work yourself to the bone and put others’ needs before your own without a second thought. I have seen you put other families ahead of yourself. All I want for you is to have that family that cares back, that loves you back, that puts you first too.”

“I have you,” you rasped, blinking away the tears lining your lash line.

“And you could have them too,” Nana retorted softly. “Honey, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise those kids love you back. And that their father does too.”

“You’ve never met Nico,” you tried to argue but Nana was having none of it.

“I know more than enough from the stories you tell me and the way he treats you,” Nana said, squeezing your hand as she spoke. “I am not saying you have to jump in straight away or ring the wedding bells. But I can see that you are happy with them and I think you could be even happier if you let yourself.”

“Is it not better to appreciate what you have instead of losing it all?” You questioned, lips pressed together in a tight smile.

“Maybe,” Nana answered. “But then you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering how different things could have been if you had just taken that step out of your comfort zone. You’ll never know the answer if you never ask the question.”

You didn’t have a reply for her.

“I just want what is best for you,” Nana finished off with a watery smile of her own. “And I think they really could be the answer to that question, at least.”

…

Nana’s words lingered in the back of your mind.

They played on a loop as the days turned into weeks and time seemed to pass far faster than you could comprehend. Before you knew it, the calendar was showing March and you were beginning to see the behind the scenes reality of what pressures Nico was under with captaining a team desperately trying to cling onto a playoff spot as the end of the season neared.

It was fucking awful, to put it lightly, and you didn’t really understand how he was managed to be the best captain he could on the ice, just to come back home and play the role of a father so well. But you could only admire it and admire him from a distance.

However, it felt like Nana’s words planted a seed in your head, letting the thought fester and grow despite how desperately you had tried to weed it out over the last few months. It had a mind of its own and it felt like everywhere you looked, you were seeing the world that Nana saw for you with the Hischiers.

You saw that future in the mornings when Nico left for practice, making sure to have a quick breakfast with you and the twins before he left the apartment after giving each one of you a kiss on the forehead (something the twins demanded he extend to you too because it was only fair in their eyes). And Nico did it happily every single morning.

You saw that future in the nights where the twins were exhausted, passed out on the couch in their own jerseys whilst you kept your eyes glued to the screen, engrossed in the result of a sport you didn’t care about over a year ago.

You saw that future in the way the twins babbled about Switzerland and how excited they were to go back and all the things they wanted to show you. You didn’t even know what the plan was for the offseason, when Nico would return back to Switzerland and have all his family there to help him out. You were too scared to ask.

You saw that future in the way that your life became so intertwined in theirs. They were always on your mind, even during your off days. You would be eating lunch with a friend and think about how Marley would hate the dish because the carrots were too big. You would throw on a playlist whilst cleaning your apartment and smile when a random Swiss song would start playing because Otto insisted it was better (which also meant that Nico was teaching him to say as much). You would be having tea with Nana and giggle a little to yourself at the chocolates she would offer because you knew chocolate snob Nico would not approve.

You saw that future in so many different ways and it made it a little hard to breathe the more you realised that you wanted it. You wanted it so fucking bad but it was March Madness and the twins’ birthday was coming up and there were a million other things that took priority over your lives than the growing feelings you had for this little family.

So, you bottled it up and pretended like you couldn’t hear Nana’s disappointed sigh in the back of your mind.

…

Nico had been jumpy since the start of the roadie.

Usually by this point of the year, the road trips were more of a nuisance and the boys were done with them. Everyone was bone tired, exhausted and injured in some capacity, pushing their bodies to unreal limits with a sense of urgency to just get on with playoffs. They were done with the regular season, they were done playing games that didn’t matter in the lead up to the Cup. They were getting a taste of a possible Cup run and they were eager to start it.

And Nico got that. He was usually one of them, letting the adrenaline and excitement for playoffs motivate him through the last stretch of regular season games. The travel days would usually be the time that he let himself catch as much sleep as he could whilst being pressed up against the bus window or sprawled out on a row of plane seats.

But he had been angsty since the first flight out, constantly checking his phone for updates that weren’t coming through. He was quiet and lost in his own head more often than not and it was concerning to the team. It took Jonas cornering him in the hotel lobby before he could run off for him to confess.

“The twins are sick,” he said with his lips turned down in a frown. “It’s nasty and they are barely sleeping and I just feel guilty for leaving Honey to deal with it alone.”

The sniffling had started a few days ago but the cold really hit last night. Neither one of them were settling down for bed, just whining and crying and fussing. Otto was complaining he was too hot. Marley was complaining she was too cold. One of them puked in the living room and the other in the bathtub after a heavy dinner that didn’t settle well in their sensitive stomachs.

It was carnage and he had to leave you completely alone with it.

You had reassured him multiple times that you would be fine, that you had dealt with multiple sick kids at once and this would be no different. But he couldn’t help but let the guilt eat him alive over the next few days.

He remembered what it was like trying to deal with the twins when they were sick at the same time and it was far from enjoyable. But even then, he had his mother or someone else nearby to help. He was never taking care of them completely alone for days on end like you were.

Nico knew he should have been more involved in the team bonding and dinners, that he should be hyping his boys up for the playoffs but he spent more time staring at his phone like he wanted to be prepared in case you messaged or called. Not that he would have been much help on the other side of the country.

He was practically itching out of his skin to get back home to you and the twins. The plane ride was torture, the minutes passing like hours and his body far too wired to even attempt to sleep (much to Jack’s dismay since he tended to use Nico as a pillow). He was practically sprinting off the plane the second they landed, making a mental note to make it up to his teammates somehow before playoffs started after they had to deal with his irritated mood for the last few days.

His body was moving on muscle memory as he drove back to the apartment, urging himself to stay under the speed limit and take his time. He knew you were home. He knew the twins were home. Him getting home in two minutes or twenty wouldn’t change that.

Nico was still running on pure adrenaline by the time he reached the front door, still panting from taking the stairs over the elevator as he pushed it open and quickly made his way inside. His bags were abandoned by the door and he opened his mouth to call out to the three of you when he froze the second he was in view of the living room.

He never really understood what people meant when they said they saw something so beautiful that they stopped in their tracks. Or at least, he never really understood until now. And he was aware that, to anyone else, there was nothing amazing or jaw dropping about the sight in front of him. But it meant everything to Nico.

Because it was late by the time they landed in New Jersey and he had accepted the possibility that everyone would be asleep. But here you were, sitting on his couch, waiting for him even though he could see the bags under your eyes and the way you were already starting to nod off. Because he knew the sweatpants and hoodie weren’t anything groundbreaking, but it was a Devils hoodie with his number on it and some old sweats of yours that had a mysterious stain on it (probably from one of the twins) but you wanted to wait for him instead of heading straight for a shower and your bed.

Because here you were, sitting on his couch after you had probably experienced the longest few days of your life taking care of two sick toddlers (his two sick toddlers), still giving him a sleepy smile as soon as he walked through the door like you were genuinely happy to see him, and he just couldn’t help but think he had never met or seen someone as beautiful as you—both inside and out.

“Are you okay?” You asked when he didn’t say anything, when he continued to stand in the middle of the room, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

And, if Nico was logical and not sleep deprived, there was probably a part of him that would have remembered that it was late and that you were both tired and his emotional epiphanies could wait until the morning.

But Nico was not logical and he was very sleep deprived and he had spent the better part of the last few months fighting his team and himself over his feelings for you, and he was far too fucking tired to keep fighting them now.

Because he was staring at you from across the room and felt such a rush of warmth and relief and comfort knowing that he had you by his side and he couldn’t quite keep it in anymore.

“I think you look beautiful,” he blurted out without any further hesitation.

You paused, staring at him for a few moments as you processed his words before glancing down at yourself. “Uh, thanks?” You managed to mutter out through an awkward laugh. “Maybe not as much right now but—”

“I mean right now,” he said, his voice genuine and sincere and serious because apparently even sleep deprived Nico understood the importance of honesty. “And always. But especially now. And I feel very lucky that I get to come back home to you.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth was moving but no words were coming out.

“And you don’t have to say anything,” he continued because he was physically unable to stop himself, even taking a few steps closer to you as he did. “But you deserve to know.”

“You can’t say that,” you whispered, shaking your head at him.

His brows furrowed together. “Why not?”

“You can’t say stuff like that when you don’t mean it like—” But you cut yourself off, swallowing harshly as your gaze dropped down to your hands.

“Mean it like what?” Nico asked, his body still moving until he was kneeling on the ground in front of you, his hands on your knees as he ducked his head to catch your eye again.

“Nico,” you said his name so softly that it made his stomach twist.

“I meant what I said,” Nico said, his hands squeezing your knees as he spoke. “You look beautiful right now and every other day. I think it all the time and you deserve to hear it more. I think you are one of the best people I have ever met in my life.”

You let out a shuddering breath.

“And I think I’m reading this right,” his voice dropped to a whisper, something cautious and vulnerable written across his face. “And stop me if I’m not because the last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable or—”

You grabbed his face and kissed him before you could second guess yourself.

Despite the fact it wasn’t very long, Nico sunk into the kiss. He let himself lean into the touch, to savour the feeling of your hands cupping his face and your lips on his. He let himself enjoy the way your nose nudged against his as you pulled away, as you gave yourself enough space to rest your forehead against his.

“You’re not reading it wrong,” you assured him with a small, almost secretive smile. “But I didn’t think you would feel the same, especially with the twins—”

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut as he enjoyed just how close you were to him. “They don’t have to know right away, we can take things slow. But I…I want to do this. I want to give us a try.”

You tried to bite back the grin threatening to take over your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nico grinned. “I want to see where this goes.”

“And if it goes wrong?” You dared yourself to ask.

But Nico didn’t seem particularly worried, twisting his hand so he could intertwine it with your own. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Honey, but we make a pretty good team. Best of the league. No doubts about us.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Does that make me your A?”

Nico snorted. “No way. We are co-captains. Equals.”

“Co-captains,” you agreed, nodding a little.

And there was still a lot more that needed to be discussed. Both of you knew that. But it was late and you were both tired and there was no rush to figure everything out just yet.

Becoming a father was one of the best things that happened to Nico Hischier. Meeting you was second. And maybe this year, he would add hoisting the Cup with his team as the third but only time would tell.

And, in the meantime, Nico was pretty damn happy with you and Otto and Marley—his perfect little family of four.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

1K notes · View notes

harmeu · 6 months ago

Text

ARGUMENTS

(HSR X READER) (ANGST)

(Amphoreus Men)

(GN!READER)

MYDEI: (His devotion to his fight which results in neglect.)

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your beloved spouse had talked to each other. It was as if Mydei’s mind was constantly on things that neglected you heavily. Even a simple “How are you today” would’ve been enough at this point. It hurt a lot. As if millions of daggers pierced you everytime Mydei walked past without saying anything. You were his lover for God’s sake.

Mydei was in the training room punching dummies with ease, letting them break into shards as they thumped onto the ground, his knuckles bleeding heavily from the constant fight.

You stepped in peeking through the small opening of the door with your wide gaze contemplating to yourself if you should walk in and say something or not.

Eventual acceptance of the option ‘yes’ overthrew your mind so you walked in and Mydei’s keen senses picked up on it immediately.

“What is it.” His gruff reply made it sound like he was annoyed. (Which he probably was.)

“You’ve been busy lately.” You mumbled out moving from one foot to another a bit nervous to how he was going to reply.

“Of course I am. You know my duties.” Mydei went back to smashing his fists against the solid wooden dummies as you winced at the sight and decided to walk up, up to him.

“I miss you.” You murmured out making Mydei freeze slightly and you could’ve sworn he softened. But as fast as it came it vanished. Mydei was back to his tense state.

“You should know everything I deal with in a singular day.”

“But I’m your lover!” You exclaimed out flinching at your own tone of voice and words making Mydei turn looking at you in your eye for the first time.

“That doesn’t matter.” He huffed out. Okay wow. Now it was your turn to be cruel.

“No wonder everyone finds you difficult.” You spat back leaving the door slamming heavily making the walls vibrate as Mydei stared dumbfounded at the shut door clenching his fists.

PHANION: (Accusations that result in anger.)

Phanion was a gentle soul with you. The perfect boyfriend in your eyes. Though as days passed you had a weird gut feeling. As if he was talking to someone other than you. Not possible. Right. The constant ‘they’re just a friend’ sounded like a lie. But you didn’t have any proof. Not yet at least.

Phanion was sitting on your local bench quietly reading as you walked up to him with a half lidded gaze of suspicion. Feeling your hard gaze Phanion sighed, shutting his book and standing up to match your height.

“Don’t give me that look.” Phanion murmured frowning with a pained expression on his face making you feel a hint of guilt.

“It’s just that you’re constantly not letting me meet your friends at all. As if you’re hiding something from me.” Your fists clenched, eyeing up at Phanion as he narrowed his own gaze at your words.

“I do not let you meet them in order for them to not do anything to you darling.” Lies. You repeated in your head. You were being unreasonable. You knew that. But your gut feeling never failed you.

“I don’t believe you.” You said spitefully making Phanion droop in hurt as you frowned at his reaction. You were expecting anger.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Phanion said holding your hand. He really had to pull that card out didn’t he.

“I do..I just.” As if knowing you were in the wrong, the only option left in your mind was to get out of the scene immediately. You let go of Phanions hand shakily leaving Phanion standing next to the bench alone as he stared at your slowly disappearing figure with a pained look.

ANAXA: (His anger towards the Gods.)

You knew your spouse's hatred towards the Gods. It never bothered you really because the people of Amphoreus worshipped titans rather than the Aeons above. Though Anaxa seemed to be solely focused on that singular emotion of hatred removing everything else in his life. Including you.

You were sitting in bed with Anaxa as he fixed up his eyepatch with his usual elegance as he eyed the several books in front of him that talked about the several elements the Gods gave down to the mortals.

“Anaxa.” You mumbled out tilting your head as Anaxa hummed out a reply as you frowned. “Why are you so focused on this subject?”

Anaxa sighed at your words as if he was contemplating you speaking out on this matter and turned his gaze towards you.

“You don’t know what these Aeons have done to our people. They’re vultures.” Anaxa spat out with seeming elegance despite his harsh words.

“I feel like you’re forgetting about everything to focus on this.” You said a hushed whisper as Anaxa narrowed his gaze.

“That’s utter lies darling. I have enough mindspace to deal with everything.” You stared at him blankly. You doubted it at this point honestly.

“I feel like you’re lying.” Silence dawned between the two of you at your words as if rendering Anaxa speechless from your statement. Which added onto your doubt from his quietness.

Silently Anaxa grabbed his things and left.

Did he just storm off?

I post in like once a century oopsie (Since I don't know anything about the characters personalities I went off looks and the trailers)

769 notes · View notes

tetsumie · 1 year ago

Note

Love your writings so so much!!! Pretty please can i ask for angsty to fluff sunarin to heal my broken heart

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

pairing: suna rintaro x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: suna's been playing the argument the both of you had on repeat in his head and he decides it's time that he proves to you that he wants to make this work

a/n: hi bby <3 ofc i can write angsty/fluffy sunarin i hope u like it and this could meet your expectations! i hope that this helps mend your broken heart love u always and if you ever need anything i'm always here to talk <3

suna is staring at the ceiling in his apartment.

his vision shifts towards the bright red numbers "3:07" glaring at him menacingly.

he shifts his body to turn away from the clock as he coddles a pillow next to him, holding it as if it's the most precious thing he has.

i destroyed the most precious thing in my life. the overthinking demons begin to plague his conscience.

he wonders what you're doing right now. he hopes that you're asleep but he knows you're probably cramming last minute for that midterm you have for your class tomorrow.

he sighs.

he opens his phone and presses your contact, thumb hovering over the call button.

he just wants to hear your voice. at least once.

ah, fuck it.

his finger presses the call button and it begins to ring. and ring. and ring. and ring. and ring.

he's beginning to lose hope as the ring continues to go on until he hears his favorite sound in the world.

"rin?"

rin.

"hello? rin?"

he clears his throat, realizing he's just been lying there, not speaking a word.

"hi baby."

"what's wrong? why are you up? don't you have pract-" you start questioning him.

"don't worry about it hun. it's all good," he sighs into the phone. "just wanted to hear your voice right now."

you hum in response.

the hurtful words he said to you a couple nights ago are playing on loop in his mind and he's unsure of what to say now.

"did you need something rin?" you begin. "you don't usually call me.. voluntarily."

he knows he doesn't. he's always been the nonchalant one in the relationship, always waiting for you to make the first move. you've always been the one to suggest going out or planning a night in. he became so used to you always being there. he never thought you wouldn't be there anymore.

you were never supposed to get out of the picture.

"i really miss you."

you're silent.

"i know you don't believe me but i really miss you."

suna knows you're having a tough time believing him. every time you would try to bring up how you wish he'd put in just a bit more effort, he always brushed it off. but when you had brought up again for the nth time a couple days ago, asking if he could at least plan something for just the two of you, he gave out on you.

"i don't have the time for this shit. i have a professional career i'm working towards and i don't have the extra time to get distracted."

he remembers the words like they were written on the back of his hand. god, he can't forget the way your beautiful features etched into a look of pure heartbreak.

god, he can't that look out of his head.

but the worst thing plaguing his mind was your response.

"rin, i just want you to act like you at least care about me. i feel like you don't care about us anymore."

god, if he could express into words how much he deeply cares for you, your relationship, and everything that has to do with you. he wants you wholeheartedly but he can't seem to express that properly.

"right," your voice is curt. sharp. it cuts like a blade into him.

he gulps.

you're hurting and he can feel it from miles away.

and the silent treatment that you've been giving one another has not been helping to heal that pain ever since that horrid dispute.

"i realized how shitty of a boyfriend i've been to you."

you're silent, waiting for him to continue.

"you wanted me to reciprocate the time and effort you put into making this relationship work and i didn't do that. it was the least i could have done; you're right."

"rin i-" he interrupts you.

he's sitting up now in his bed, staring out the window of his bedroom.

"no, wait please let me finish."

you're silent and he takes it as his cue.

"the fact that you felt like i never cared about you — about us — this entire time truly shows how much of a shitty person i've been to you and to our relationship. i'm supposed to be the one there for you yet i never was. your absence in my life for the past couple days has affected me in ways that i don't even know could be possible"

he continues although he hears what could've been a sniffle.

"i don't know how else to put it into words but i miss you so bad, y/n. you don't have to forgive me — i wouldn't blame you — but i just want you to know that if you don't want to do this anymore with me, i understand. i'll love you no matter what your decision is."

"you love me?" your voice comes to life on the other end of the line completely caught off guard.

oh my god.

he smiles to himself as he stares at the vast dark room in front of him. "yes i love you. i always have."

"from the moment you walked into the sports psychology lecture late to the time you spilled coffee all over my brand new jersey to the time you had your sickly chicken pox. i've loved you ever since and i won't let you go."

you're silently digesting the information that he threw at you all in one sitting.

it's dead silent and suna is nervous. he wants to know what you're thinking, how you look like right now, how you're feeling.

he really wants to see you right now. to be there with you right now.

the overthinking demons begin to make their entrance in his mind as he begins to speak. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done this over the phone. i should've done this in person. i'm just too nervous to even say a word because what i want to say gets lost and then-"

"rin," you stop him before he can continue his ramble.

"yes?"

"i love you too."

oh my god.

his heart is beating out of his chest and he's stuck. his mouth is slightly agape, stunned by your confession. after everything he's done with you, you still love him?

"are you sure?" he asks to confirm.

"why are you literally trying to deny my confession to you right now?" you give a watery chuckle which he can instantly hear through.

"i don't deserve you," he states and he feels his eyes water a little bit.

"yeah you don't," you laugh in hopes of lightening the mood but the laugh dies down in your throat.

a comfortable silence holds between the two of you.

"i'm sorry for keeping you up so late. please get some rest-" he begins but is this time interrupted by you.

"can you come over?" your small voice interrupts. "obviously if it's not a bother... i just want to, um, see you right now. if that's okay."

his heart beats faster.

"are you sure?"

"yes please," you sound so frail. "please come over rin. i really need you right now."

"i'm there, baby."

1K notes · View notes

gloomglimmer · 5 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 — pt 4-6: confessions, first kisses, and the shift from longing to something more. some of these may be repeats from other posts of mine. couldn't give up the chance to use them again! ✧ ˚₊ Themes: longing, tension, intimacy & love unfolding

𝐏𝐓.𝟒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 .

The moment hangs between them ; too much, too close. Will they lean in, or will the tension break before it can become something real?

My muse catches your muse’s wrist before they can walk away, voice softer now. “…Don’t go."

My muse closes their eyes, exhaling shakily. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this—whatever this is—doesn’t mean anything.”

My muse hesitates, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “…Do you even realize what you do to me?”

My muse lifts a hand to your muse’s face but doesn’t touch them. “…Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

My muse brushes your muse’s hair away, their fingers lingering. “You… have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

My muse watches your muse laugh, something shifting in their gaze. “…God, I think I’m in love with you.”

𝐏𝐓. 𝟓: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 .

A heartbeat, a breath, a hesitation(?) then finally, lips meet.

My muse starts to say something but is cut off as your muse kisses them instead.

My muse doesn’t think—they just act, pulling your muse in before they can change their mind.

My muse cups your muse’s face, pressing their forehead against theirs. “…Are you sure?”

My muse kisses your muse mid-argument, desperate to stop them from walking away.

My muse hesitates inches away, whispering, “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

My muse pulls away breathlessly, searching your muse’s eyes. “…Do that again.”

My muse kisses your muse so softly it almost doesn’t feel real. “…I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

My muse touches their lips afterward, a little stunned. “…Oh.”

𝐏𝐓. 𝟔: 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 ?!

The confession is out! The kiss has happened.

My muse swallows, voice quiet. “…So… what happens now?”

My muse laughs nervously, rubbing the back of their neck. “So… do we pretend that didn’t just happen, or—?”

My muse reaches for your muse’s hand again, this time without hesitation.

My muse smirks, bumping your muse’s shoulder. “So, uh… was I any good?”

My muse tilts your muse’s chin up, searching their eyes. “You’re sure about this? About me?”

My muse exhales shakily. “I don’t know what this means yet, but… I know I don’t want to lose you.”

My muse kisses your muse again . . . this time, softer. More certain. “…Just in case that first one was a mistake.”

#rp prompts #rp sentence starter #rp meme #rp memes #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #inbox meme #rp starters

442 notes · View notes

dostoyevsky-official · 5 months ago

Text

not only did the NYT propagate anti-trans stories feeding today's EO ban and refuse to acknowledge elon's nazi salute, they went vichy-media mode by banning paul krugman from the op-eds:

Last month I retired from my position as an opinion writer at the New York Times—a job I had done for 25 years. Despite the encomiums issued by the Times, it was not a happy departure. [...] I believe that the story of why I left says something important about the current state of legacy journalism.

[...] During my first 24 years at the Times, from 2000 to 2024, I faced very few editorial constraints on how and what I wrote. For most of that period my draft would go straight to a copy editor, who would sometimes suggest that I make some changes — for example, softening an assertion that arguably went beyond provable facts, or redrafting a passage the editor didn’t quite understand, and which readers probably wouldn’t either. But the editing was very light; over the years several copy editors jokingly complained that I wasn’t giving them anything to do, because I came in at length, with clean writing and with back-up for all factual assertions.

This light-touch editing prevailed even when I took positions that made Times leadership very nervous. My early and repeated criticisms of Bush’s push to invade Iraq led to several tense meetings with management. In those meetings, I was urged to tone it down. Yet the columns themselves were published as I wrote them. And in the end, I believe the Times — which eventually apologized for its role in promoting the war — was glad that I had taken an anti-invasion stand. I believe that it was my finest hour.

So I was dismayed to find out this past year, when the current Times editors and I began to discuss our differences, that current management and top editors appear to have been completely unaware of this important bit of the paper’s history and my role in it.

[...] In 2024, the editing of my regular columns went from light touch to extremely intrusive. I went from one level of editing to three, with an immediate editor and his superior both weighing in on the column, and sometimes doing substantial rewrites before it went to copy. These rewrites almost invariably involved toning down, introducing unnecessary qualifiers, and, as I saw it, false equivalence. I would rewrite the rewrites to restore the essence of my original argument. But as I told Charles Kaiser, I began to feel that I was putting more effort—especially emotional energy—into fixing editorial damage than I was into writing the original articles. And the end result of the back and forth often felt flat and colorless.

One more thing: I faced attempts from others to dictate what I could (and could not) write about, usually in the form, “You’ve already written about that,” as if it never takes more than one column to effectively cover a subject. If that had been the rule during my earlier tenure, I never would have been able to press the case for Obamacare, or against Social Security privatization, and—most alarmingly—against the Iraq invasion. Moreover, all Times opinion writers were banned from engaging in any kind of media criticism. Hardly the kind of rule that would allow an opinion writer to state, “we are being lied into war.”

I felt that my byline was being used to create a storyline that was no longer mine. So I left.

That’s my story. What are the broader implications?

[...] What I felt during my final year at the Times was a push toward blandness, toward avoiding saying anything too directly in a way that might get some people (particularly on the right) riled up. I guess my question is, if those are the ground rules, why even bother having an opinion section?

[...] On a somewhat different issue, it became clear to me that the management I was dealing with didn’t understand the difference between having an opinion and having an informed, factually sourced opinion. When the newsletter was canceled, I tried to point out that I was almost the only regular opinion writer doing policy. Their response was to point to other writers who often expressed views about policy, economic and otherwise. I tried in vain to explain that there’s a difference between having opinions about economics and knowing how to read C.B.O. analyses and recent research papers. It all fell on deaf ears.

417 notes · View notes

chevxyn · 6 months ago

Text

BUT WHAT?

in which your bestfriend always wanted you, but..

various! blue lock x reader

pairings (separate) : sae x you x rin, isagi x you x kaiser, nagi x you x reo, bachira x you x otoya, aiku x you x sendou. (love triangle.)

note: i’m sorry if there’s grammatical mistakes, as english is not my first language and if this is not as your expectation. thank you for reading!

part 2 of “him over me?” bestfriend’s view; angst, fluff, toxic you (rin,sae), fully written, striked name : the one that got rejected.

BUT, you messed up.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae.

AFTER DAYS has passed, you and sae became close, while you and rin gotten somewhat distant. yet for you, it was a good feeling.

but for rin, it was hell. he has waited for you for years, it broke him when you don’t text him first, or nag him to hang out with you anymore. as all you ever talk about is sae, sae, and sae.

did the same person that ruined him, the one that told him he had no worth in his life again, is the same person that’s gonna take his one and only?

he hates itoshi sae, he hates him. more of all, he is starting to hate you. someone that he admired for years. his bestfriend. so my god, it hurted when you told him you and sae are official after just two weeks.

and that’s probably the start of why this argument started in the first place. “why are you so upset with me?” [name]’s voice called out to him, “rin!”

“why do you have to date sae?” he asked, his voice was sharp and stern. [name] has never heard this tone that he was using, and he always had thought that rin would support you. wouldn’t he?

“what?” you blurted out and rin looks at you, “why did you have to date sae?” he repeated, you were about to speak again, “why him? and not me?” he said, it was not much, but it made it clear to you. he liked you.

“rin..” you muttered his name, “i didn’t know you felt that way,” your voice was about to crack but his was already is. “you didn’t think that it hurted?”

“seeing your bestfriend, someone who i wished was on my side, betray me for their pathetic crush!” he yelled out, and you stayed still. you never knew how deep his feelings actually is.

“you know what? forget it,” he dismissed as he was preparing to leave before you stopped him, “i’m sorry.” you said, sorry? was that all?

“i’m sorry that you feel that way, i- i didn’t know.” you said and he was quiet, “of course you’d say you didn’t know, but you did. that’s just another excuse.” finally, walking out. while you just stood there.

“you’re nothing but the same as my brother.”

BUT, you figured it out.

michael kaiser, isagi yoichi.

ISAGI had gotten dangerously close to you, infact it looks like both of you are closer then you and kaiser ever was. it gotten to the point where you feel comfortable to hugging him wherever you want.

as for kaiser, he hated that fact. he hated how easily isagi could pursue you when he waited patiently. so it came to the point where he just had to confront it to you.

both of you were walking together as he just finished with practice, seeing this opportunity, he talked. “[name]” his voice was warm, something that only you could get from him. you looked at him and smiled. “what is it, micha?”

“do you,” he paused as you looked at him, “do you like isagi?” he asked and that made you almost stop. as your eyes met his, you slowly nodded. “i mean, i did.” you chuckled.

“but he told me that there is one person,” you continued and looked upfront, “that he’s annoying, arrogant, handsome” kaiser quiets down as he took all of that in.

“and apparently how he would never go a day without mentioning my name.” you said and focused on the sidewalk, not wanting to see his eyes. “and how maybe i should take a chance with him.”

kaiser was quiet before he reluctantly grabs your hand, “and how that person is you.” you said, and smiled.

“general answer of that question. yes, i do like isagi, he’s a good friend.” as your head slowly turns to meet his. “but, i like you better, cause you’re my bestfriend.” “so you did know that i liked you.” “it takes an isagi to make me realize that i guess.” man. kaiser might just thank him for that

BUT, you like his friend.

mikage reo, nagi seishiro.

IT DOESN’T take a genius to find out nagi and [name] hanged out that day without reo. that’s probably why the same rumor that was deep down in the ocean came back after weeks.

and unfortunately, it came to reo’s attention. he felt absolutely crushed, cause not even he knew about this. they did not even include him into the mix. wasn’t he the first one? wasn’t he the one that introduced him to you?

so now here you guys are, it was quiet until reo talked, “are you both dating?” reo asked, as nagi and you looked at him. “eh? n—“ nagi nodded, “mm.”

due to nagi’s confirmation, that made reo’s heart ache. did he actually ran out of time? you were red blushing crazily as you cling to nagi while denying his claims.

he had never seen you like this, usually you’d be calm and collective when someone else does this. so why is it that you’re so flustered with nagi, cause you like him? you never act like that to him.

it made it worse when nagi just pulls you closer towards him. do he just give up? there’s no point into liking someone that already likes someone else right? especially when it’s your friend.

“i’m so happy for the both of you!” he said as he kept that supportive face, even if his heart felt like it was barely beating. “reo! nagi’s just—“ reo chuckled as he patted your back.

“don’t you always say you wanted him? hm?~” he teased, his other hand that he hid was shaking as the one that stayed on your shoulder was confident. “reo!” you scolded and hid your face to hide your blush.

maybe, he could move on. it’ll be hard cause you’ll be seeing each other alot. but, maybe he could. but for now, his heart felt heavy.

BUT, bachira sets you up.

otoya eita, bachira meguru.

BACHIRA after being friends with you, he was one that asked, alot. and one of the questions that he had asked is what relationship otoya and you had.

you told him it was just plain friendship, but when he heard that he looked sorta unsatisfied as if, searching for another reason. something that he knows that you didn’t.

so it was odd when bachira suddenly asked you to meet up at the mall, and who showed up was otoya. your eyes widened as you chuckled.

“yow ninja.” you smiled, “oh, hey [name].” he said and looked around, “where is..” he seemed to be looking for the same person that ‘ghosted’ you. and by together, you both said, “bachira?” “bachira.”

he looked at you and sighed, “did he just try to set me up with my bestfriend?” she giggled, and shrugged. “well we’re already here anyways.” otoya said, he saw the chance. and oh, he’s gonna take it.

he really did thought about the possibility of you and bachira, and how bachira would ask alot about you. he thought bachira’s feelings was the same as yours.

he never expected that bachira himself would be doing this for him. so here is the two of them, eye to eye. “you’re right, might aswell go out with eachother.” you teased and winked which made otoya rolled her eyes and pushed you lightly.

and for this whole day, you both spent time together. and now you’re at the mall’s rooftop. holding the drink that he had bought for you as the sunset has ended and the moon has risen.

“[nickname].” otoya muttered out your name and you looked at him, “hm?” it was now or never. he wants a chance with you.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

BUT, you finally noticed him.

sendou shuto, oliver aiku.

DUE TO you already having plans with sendou, you rejected oliver. saying you’re busy. to be honest, you only liked oliver cause he was exceptionally handsome & the way he acts is a gentlemen-like (despite even if you called him an asshole), the only downside is you dislike how he would cheat on women.

you want to still go after him and have that ‘try’ but as you thought about it. what if you end up like those same victims? just another person to aiku. you sighed. find someone else to like that is what sendou had said.

you agreed to meet sendou at his apartment, upon getting there. he opened the door and saw you. you both made plans to do a movie night.

you and him went to the couch and sat down there, watching the movie. but while watching it, the film was about a boy that had to put up with his bestfriend liking someone else. and midway you questioned yourself, did sendou ever felt like this?

you didn’t think so, considering both of you always kept it platonic, but as time passes. you couldn’t help but notice how pretty sendou actually is, and no matter how reckless he was, he would treat you better than most people.

and how cute he is as he is wrapped in a blanket cause of the cold, he always talks about how he is gonna be the best striker in the world and you loved that about him.

and how he cared about you enough that he’d warn you about aiku, you sighed deeply as he looked at you. “what is it?” he asked, concern was hinted in his voice as he looked at you.

“nothing’s wrong, but you look stupid wrapped around that blanket.” you said and chuckled and he flicked your forehead lightly, “it’s cold, give me a break.”

sendou, you really are someone to be admired at.

©chevxyn.

536 notes · View notes

written-with-clouds · 3 months ago

Text

You're Always My Husband

Loki x GNAsgardian!Reader

Summary: When Loki is taken by the Avengers you follow Thor to Earth, needing to see him with your own eyes.

CW: very brief mention of killing and torture (It's only a sentence long and doesn't go into detail), Angst and Comfort.

Authors note: Hello! I have returned at last! This isn't either of the fics I teased in my last post, and it kinda came out of nowhere... but I hope you like it all the same! This takes place during the first Avengers movie and was heavily inspired by Would You Fall In Love With Me from Epic The Musical: Ithaca Saga by Jorge Rivera-Herrans.. for those that haven't heard it, please go listen to the full concept musical! it is amazing and beautifully done!

cross posted on AO3

Your ears ring from the pounding of your heart as you storm through the helicarrier, ignoring the yells of people around you. You throw any of the guards dumb enough to get in your way and try to stop you from your target.

“Thor!” You bellow, your voice echoing off the metal walls around you as people startle at the sound. You kick in door after door, calling after the god of thunder with each one. And every time, coming up empty handed.

Growling in frustration, you survey the room with narrowed eyes. Stalking to the nearest person you lift them by the collar of their shirt, ignoring the multiple guns now pointed in your direction.

“Where is Thor?” You ask slowly, breathing heavily through your nose. The man stares at you, eyes wide, lips opening and closing without sound, trembling within your hold.

“Where is he!?” You yell, giving the man a light shake.

“Y/N!” Your brother in law's boisterous voice calls from behind you.

You drop the frightened man and whirl on your heel to face Thor. His face is bright, a wide smile on his face and his eyes crinkled just the slightest. You close the distance between you both quickly, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“Is it true? Is he…” You trail off, the question dying on your tongue. You search Thor’s eyes, your breathing growing ragged.

“Y/N…” He responds softly, his hands gently grasping your elbows as his expression drops.

“Is it?” You repeat your question, growing more desperate by the second.

Thor nods, his face now solemn. Your breathing hitches and your grip on him loosens. “Where is he?”

“He’s not… how he was.“ Thor responds, choosing his words carefully.

“Where is he?!”

“In a holding cell.” Someone else replies. You turn your head, meeting the one eyed gaze of a man. “Who’s your friend?”

Thor responds before you can so much as open your mouth, “This is Y/N, my brother's spouse.”

“They gonna be a problem for us?” The one eyed man asks, speaking directly to Thor even with his gaze trained on you warily.

“No, Fury. They will not be a problem.”

“I can answer for myself,” you speak, scowling at both of them. “I will remain… unproblematic, if you take me to my husband.”

“How do we know you won’t let him out?” The one eyed man—Fury—comments. “For all we know you’re working with him and this is all some trick.”

You release your hold on Thor completely, turning your body to face Fury. You stalk towards him, getting halfway there before Thor's hand on your arm stops you.

“Take me to my husband!” You demand, fighting against Thor’s hold.

“Y/N, please.” Thor whispers pleadingly, “Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

“Difficult?” You whip around to Thor, catching him off guard as your hand makes contact with his cheek. “I’m not the one being difficult! All I am asking is to see my husband, who was thought dead!” You hiss out.

And then your shoulders drop, the fight all but leaving your body as desperation seeped in. “Please.” You beg no one in particular. “I just need to see him… I need to know he’s alive..”

You looked to Thor, desperately trying to get through to him. But his attention was elsewhere. His eyes were locked with Fury’s, a silent argument happening between them before finally, Fury nodded.

Thor’s gaze landed back on you, “Okay.. but not for long. And know, they have cameras in place all around his cell.”

The second the large doors slide open you see him. Your husband paces inside a large cell made entirely of glass. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before walking into the room tentatively. As you approach the glass, Loki turns. The cocky smile adorning his face falls as his eyes land on yours and he blinks in surprise. “Is it you?” You ask breathlessly. “This isn’t a dream? O-or some trick?”

“Darling…” Loki speaks softly in a way reserved only for you as you draw even closer to the glass. Thor says something behind you, it sounds vaguely like he’s asking you to step back but his words are fuzzy as your entire being focuses on the sight of Loki. You bring your hand up, resting your palm against the glass.

“Are you really standing here? Did-” You choke on the words as sobs threaten to leave your throat. “Have you come back to me?”

Loki places his against the glass, mirroring you.

“You’re thinner than I remember…” You whisper, “And your eyes… They’re blue now, not the green I know. You look tortured.”

“I am not the man I was… the man you fell in love with.” Loki says simply, removing his hand from the glass as he walks back towards the middle of the cell.

“What happened to you?”

“I’ve killed… too many to count. Human and alien alike.” He doesn’t face you as he speaks. His shoulders are tense and his fist’s clench at his sides before he draws them up, likely wringing them as you know he does when nervous or unsure. “I’ve tortured even more. Their blood stains my hands. Their screams ring in my ears. ”

“Loki…” Tears blur your vision and wet your cheeks.

Loki spins around, facing you. His expression is guarded, but you notice the small twitch of his eyebrow that indicates he’s barely keeping it together himself. When he speaks his voice is hoarse and unsteady. “Can you still claim to love me? To call me your husband?”

You blink back more tears as they threaten to spill down your face and step away from the glass slightly. Your hand wraps around a cord of fabric made of green and gold that hangs from your waist and breaks it off. You hold it up in front of you, displaying it to Loki. “If I can’t call you my husband, if what you’ve done is truly so horrible that I can’t learn to love you regardless, remove your half of our handfasting cord. Rip it from your belt and toss it away.”

At this, Loki falters, flinching away as if struck. “How could you…” He starts softly, his voice growing louder as he continues. “I wove that cord myself. I spent weeks on it. As a sign of my love to you!”

“Then don’t tell me you’re not the same person! You are my husband!” You yell at him, voice raspy and breaking. “No matter what you’ve done or who you’ve hurt. No matter if it’s been one year or one decade, I will always love you.”

The door to Loki’s cell opens, startling both of you. Glancing over your shoulder you see Thor where he now stands behind the control desk. He nods his head at, a silent acknowledgement.

Loki doesn’t move from the center of the cell, even as armed guards enter the room, guns pointing at all three of you. He doesn’t even look anywhere else but you. His eyes follow your movements as you slowly close the distance between you and him.

Once you’re standing toe to toe with Loki, you lift on shaking hand and place it against his cheek. The touch is feather light at first, because you are still unsure if it’s really him. But as skin meets skin and Loki leans into your touch, his eyes closing, you resolve breaks. You pull him against you and bury your face in the crook of his neck as sobs rack through your body. Loki’s arms close around your middle as he pulls you impossibly closer, his head resting against yours.

The two of you sink to the floor, still holding onto each other like lifelines. When you pull back from the hug, Loki looks at you.

“There they are,” You whisper. His eyes were no longer an icy blue, but now the same green you had always loved to get lost in.

He rests his forehead against yours, eyes shutting again. “I love you.”

“I missed you.”

(lets just pretend that Loki's eyes are green and not blue.. for plot purposes)

#loki laufeyson #loki imagine #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki angst #loki comfort #asgardian reader

286 notes · View notes

cherryxbooo · 6 months ago

Note

Okaaaay I can't resist on sending in another idea ❤️😊 I just loved the previous imagine too much!

Maybe some more Tim angst, where he's dating another officer for a while now and they're really happy. Then someday they get into an argument about something stupid, so she keeps ignoring him for nearly the whole shift. Later he hears over the radio that one officer got shot during a call and he already has a bad feeling. Just then his phone rings and Grey confirms his fears that it was you.

At the hospital it's not sure if you'll survive and Tim fears losing you without apologizing. In the end you survive of course and it's all just cute and fluffy in the end 🙊

We’re in this together

Summary: A police shift goes wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for an officer, but it hits differently when you’re losing the love of your life, and your last interaction was a fight.

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite mug in both hands.

The first sip sent a warmth through me that was only rivaled by the sight in front of me.

Tim sat at the table, hunched over, tying his boots with the same care and focus he brought to everything he did.

Sunlight poured through the window, framing him in a soft glow, and I couldn’t help the way my lips tugged into a smile.

“Another day, another shift,” I teased, my voice gentle as I took another sip of coffee.

He glanced up at me with a crooked smile that never failed to make my heart flutter.

“Another day of you trying to boss me around.”

I raised an eyebrow, setting my mug down as I sauntered toward him.

“You love it when I boss you around.”

Tim chuckled, his hands pausing on his laces as he gave me a look that was all warmth and affection.

“You might have a point, sweetheart.”

He tugged the laces one last time and stood, towering over me in that way that always made me feel both small and completely safe.

“But I think I deserve a little credit for putting up with you.”

“Putting up with me?” I repeated, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

“Who’s the one who burned breakfast again last week? Pretty sure I’m the patient one here.”

Tim stepped closer, his hands finding their way to my hips as he leaned down just enough to press a kiss to my temple.

“I burned breakfast because you distracted me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a little shiver through me.

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as I rested my hands on his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied without missing a beat, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried.

He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

“Ready to head out, or should we take another five minutes to ‘discuss’ who’s the patient one in this relationship?”

I laughed again, giving his chest a gentle shove.

“Grab your jacket, Bradford. We’re not showing up late just because you can’t stop flirting.”

Tim grabbed his jacket and slid it on, but not before stealing one last kiss, quick but lingering enough to leave my heart racing.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured as he opened the door for me.

“You make it too easy.”

The drive to the station was filled with the kind of soft, easy conversation that came with knowing someone inside and out.

Tim reached over at one point, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the console.

Without a word, he intertwined our fingers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my skin as we drove.

“Think Cap will still be in that mood again today?” Tim asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Probably,” I replied with a grin.

“You know how he gets when things don’t go perfectly. Angela said he spent half the night poring over those reports. Sounds almost like you.”

Tim shook his head with a soft laugh, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

“He needs to take a page out of your book and learn how to relax. Just like how you thought me.”

I smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’ll let him know you said that.”

“You would,”

he replied with mock exasperation, but his grin softened as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm and gentle.

“That’s why I keep you around, you keep everyone on their toes.”

My cheeks warmed at the affection in his voice, and I leaned back into the seat, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.

With Tim, even the drive to work felt like something special, like a little pocket of peace in the chaos of our lives.

As we pulled into the station’s parking lot, Tim shifted the car into park but didn’t move to get out just yet.

Instead, he turned to me, his gaze soft and adoring.

“What do you want to do on our next day off? Our day off is sacred, you know.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think, even as a smile tugged at my lips.

“How about a picnic? Somewhere quiet, just us. You bring the sandwiches, and I’ll bring dessert.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in to steal one last kiss before we stepped out into the world of uniforms and chaos.

“You always know how to make a day perfect,” he murmured against my lips.

“So do you,”

I whispered back still not believing I've got the grumpy Tim Bradford wrapped around my finger.

The precinct was already alive with its usual controlled chaos when we arrived.

The familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air.

Officers walked around, exchanging case files, refilling coffee mugs, and prepping for the day ahead.

Tim and I stepped through the front doors together, the click of his boots against the tiled floor perfectly in sync with mine.

Ever the gentleman, Tim held the door open for me, his hand brushing lightly against the small of my back as I walked in.

The gesture was small but grounding, one of those quiet moments of affection that felt uniquely ours.

We didn’t make it three steps inside before Lucy’s voice rang out, full of teasing energy.

“Oh, look, it’s the power couple gracing us with their presence!”

she called, grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against her desk.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

“Good morning to you too, Chen.”

Angela was quick to join in, an amused smirk playing on her face.

“Wait a second... is that a smile on Tim’s face? What did you do, bribe him with something?”

I turned to Tim, arching a playful eyebrow.

“See? They think you’re less grumpy. Guess I’m rubbing off on you after all.”

Tim let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not that grumpy,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching upward.

“Oh, sure,” Angela replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“And I’m the King of England.”

I laughed, giving Tim a quick wink as we moved toward our desks.

“Don’t worry, Bradford. I like you grumpy. Keeps things interesting.”

He shot me a mock glare, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he pulled his chair out and settled in across from me.

The morning briefing was the usual mix of updates and assignments, with Grey running through the day’s agenda in his signature no-nonsense tone.

Tim sat beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence that made my heart skip despite the mundane nature of the meeting.

When the captain finally dismissed us, Tim leaned over, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“You zoning out on me, sweetheart?”

I smirked, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad.

“Nope. Just wondering how you manage to look so serious all the time.”

He tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “It’s a gift.”

“Must be exhausting,” I teased, standing and grabbing my notes as we joined the others heading toward the bullpen.

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable rhythm as Tim and I fell into our usual routine.

Working together had become second nature after months of finding our rhythm.

We didn’t need words to communicate half the time, a shared glance or the slightest tilt of his head was enough to tell me what he was thinking.

But as the hours ticked by, the warmth of the morning started to shift.

Calls came in one after another, each one more demanding than the last.

The weight of the job pressed down on us, and the lighthearted banter that carried us through most days began to fade.

During a brief moment of reprieve, Tim appeared beside me, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

His expression was softer now, more serious, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Thought you could use this,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual.

I took the cup, my fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.

He gave a small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that he saved just for me.

“Don’t mention it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

It was moments like these, tucked between the chaos and the noise, that reminded me how lucky I was.

With Tim, the hard days felt a little less heavy, and the good ones felt extraordinary.

Tim and I rarely fight, but if we did, we were quick to make up. But this time I wasn't so sure about that.

It began in the shop during a lull between calls, one of those rare, quiet moments when the hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air.

The city seemed unusually still, as though even it were taking a breath.

I glanced out the window, watching the sunlight play off passing buildings, when the thought struck me.

“Hey,” I said casually,

“we’re out of supplies in the first aid kit.”

Tim, who’d been focused on the road, flicked his eyes toward me briefly.

“You forgot to restock it, didn’t you?”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an edge that immediately put me on the defensive.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? You’re the one who used it last.”

He let out a short breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, and I told you to refill it afterward.”

“You told me?” I shot back, incredulous.

“No, you mentioned it in passing, and I assumed you’d take care of it since, you know, you used it.”

Tim’s jaw tightened as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s not about who used it. It’s about being prepared. What if we get a call and need it? Are we supposed to improvise because you didn’t think to check?”

His words, laced with frustration, hit a nerve.

My temper flared, and I turned in my seat to face him fully.

“Oh, so now it’s my job to clean up after you? Got it. I’ll just add that to the list, right after making sure you remember to pack your lunch and not leave your coffee mug in the car.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“This isn’t about me leaving my mug. This is about you taking responsibility for something important instead of deflecting every damn time.”

The way he said it like I was careless or didn’t pull my weight, sent a sharp pang of hurt through me.

“Wow, Tim,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks for the lecture. I’ll be sure to put it in the suggestion box right after I file all the other things you think I should be doing better.”

“Forget it,”

he muttered, his tone curt as he turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I crossed my arms, glaring out the window as silence fell over the car.

The warmth and ease of the morning were gone, replaced by an icy tension that made the air feel heavier.

By the time we pulled up to the next call, the tension had settled in so thickly it felt like another passenger in the car.

Neither of us spoke as we stepped out and approached the scene, our usual rhythm replaced by clipped movements and short, professional exchanges.

For the rest of the shift, I kept my responses to Tim short and curt.

If he asked for status updates, I gave him the bare minimum.

If he cracked a joke to try and lighten the mood, I didn’t even spare him a glance.

It was petty, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I could feel his frustration growing with every brush-off.

The way his jaw clenched or the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when I avoided meeting his gaze only confirmed it.

By mid-afternoon, he stopped trying altogether, the usual back-and-forth banter between us replaced by strained silence.

Finally, during a rare quiet moment back in the car, Tim broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“You going to keep this up all day?”

I didn’t look at him, instead staring out the windshield at the street ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said flatly.

“Are you going to stop being an ass?”

He sighed, long and heavy, the sound of someone grappling with his own frustration.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Have it your way.”

But even as he said it, there was something in his tone that softened the edges of my anger.

I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest flicker of hurt in his expression.

It wasn’t like Tim to let things fester, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.

Still, my own stubbornness held firm, and I looked away before he could catch me staring.

The silence between us stretched on, heavier now than it had been before.

The next day arrived, and the tension between Tim and me hadn’t eased.

With us both being too stubborn to give in.

We were back at the station for our next shift, with the two of us still clearly not on speaking terms.

The air was thick with unspoken words as we went through the motions of starting our day.

Tim was focused, doing his job with the usual precision, but the distance between us was palpable.

Angela and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched the two of us, sensing that something was off.

“So,” Angela started, leaning against the counter with her coffee cup,

“what’s going on with you two? You guys usually can’t keep your hands off each other, and today—”

She gestured between us, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Nothing?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tim and me.

“You two seriously not talking?”

I glanced at Tim briefly, but his attention was fixed on the paperwork in front of him.

I sighed inwardly, turning to face my friends.

“It’s just... a disagreement,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Angela looked unconvinced.

“A disagreement? You’ve barely looked at each other all morning. Come on, you can tell us. What happened?”

I didn’t know how to explain it.

The argument from yesterday still felt fresh, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging it off. “We’ll work through it.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced either, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, because it’s so obvious you two are just fine.”

I forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got work to do, right?”

Tim didn’t seem to notice our conversation, too absorbed in whatever report he was reading.

I glanced at him again, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something, but the other part was still too angry to make the first move.

The next few hours felt like a blur of cases and calls, my mind distracted by the unspoken words lingering between us.

At least I was scheduled to go on patrol with a rookie today, which meant I’d be away from Tim for a while.

The rookie, Aaron, seemed eager enough, though I could tell he was still finding his footing.

I was relieved, in a way, I didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being in the same shop as Tim while we were still this... distant.

Late in the shift, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.

“Units 23 and 45, we have a report of a suspected robbery crew holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Multiple units responding. Proceed with caution.”

I immediately grabbed my gear, my heart rate spiking slightly.

This was serious.

Aaron, looked at me, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You ready, Officer?”

I gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just follow my lead.”

The ride over was quick, the weight of the situation settling in as we pulled up to the scene.

The warehouse loomed in front of us, abandoned and desolate, like something out of a movie.

Officers were already moving into tactical formations, their expressions tense as they communicated through earpieces.

My stomach tightened as we got out of the car, the sound of officers shouting commands echoing through the air.

We were assigned to clear the second floor of the building.

I glanced up at the stairs, the darkened interior of the warehouse giving off an eerie vibe.

My instincts kicked in, but I pushed the thoughts aside, there was work to do.

Aaron and I moved cautiously up the stairs, checking our corners as we went.

The silence was deafening, the only sound our footsteps on the dusty floor.

It was too quiet.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I motioned for Aaron to take the left side while I covered the right.

We moved slowly, staying low to the ground.

My hand hovered near the grip of my weapon, but something felt... off.

And then, a single gunshot shattered the silence.

The sound was deafening, ringing in my ears, and before I could react, pain exploded in my side.

I gasped, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground.

My breath hitched as I tried to focus, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through my uniform.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Aaron…”

My voice was shaky, but I could still hear the panic in his voice as he called for backup.

But all I could focus on was the searing pain in my side and the growing sense of fear that gripped me.

At that moment my mind went blank and the last thing I could think about was... Tim

Meanwhile,

Tim was still at the precinct, sitting at his desk, his mind occupied with the usual paperwork and the hum of the station around him.

It was a rare quiet moment, one of those in-between times when the calls had slowed down, and officers were catching their breath.

He barely noticed the radio crackle to life at first.

But then, a voice came through, sharp and urgent:

"Officer down. Requesting medical assistance."

His stomach dropped.

A cold wave of dread swept over him, his breath catching in his throat.

The world around him seemed to slow as he stared at the radio.

He was trained for these moments, for the harsh reality that could hit at any moment.

But this? This felt different.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he looked around the bullpen. His heart was racing.

The words replayed in his head. Officer down.

The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing who hit him like a freight train.

But he had a feeling who it was, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting like this right?

"Who is it?" Tim's voice was low but desperate, laced with an emotion he wasn’t willing to admit.

The other officers in the room exchanged glances, but no one had an answer.

The station seemed to be holding its breath as everyone waited for more information.

Tim didn’t wait.

His eyes locked on his phone as it began to ring, the screen lighting up with a name he’d never wanted to see in this context: Grey.

His heart pounded harder, a sickening sense of dread seizing him.

He grabbed the phone with shaking hands, swiping it to answer.

"Grey," he said, his voice tight, barely holding it together.

There was a pause on the other end. A heavy silence.

Then, Captain Grey’s voice came through, thick with an emotion Tim couldn’t place.

“It’s Y/L/N, Tim,” Grey said, his tone grim.

“She’s been shot. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s.”

Tim froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/n has been hit. He couldn’t breathe.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a blur of terror and disbelief.

His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep it together.

“Tim…” Grey’s voice softened, as if he could sense the storm raging inside him.

“Get to the hospital. They’ll need you there.”

Tim didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

He just slammed the phone down, his body already in motion, his heart racing like it might beat out of his chest.

The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was deafening in the silence of the station.

He didn’t think. He didn’t ask questions.

His mind was consumed by one thought, one single, unrelenting impulse: Get to you.

He grabbed his keys off the counter, his fingers fumbling as he rushed to the door.

He didn’t stop to grab his jacket, didn’t hesitate for a second.

His eyes were wild with panic, his breath shallow as he sprinted out of the station.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Every second that ticked by felt like a hundred years.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it was painful.

The sirens of other emergency vehicles echoed in the distance, but they only made the dread in his chest grow deeper.

What had happened? Were you okay?

His mind raced with questions, but every time he tried to focus on the answers, the fear crept back in.

He couldn’t let himself go there, not yet.

He didn't even get to apologize, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.

The hospital loomed ahead, its lights flashing in the early evening dusk.

Tim didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking lot, his car screeching to a halt.

He was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop, barely registering the cold night air as he rushed inside.

His heart was pounding in his ears, the noise around him a blur as he darted through the hospital’s hallways.

He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to her.

Finally, he reached the ER. The doors swung open, and he froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the room.

Nurses and doctors moved quickly, their expressions grim as they passed by.

"Sir," a voice called from behind him, and he turned to find one of the paramedics who had been at the scene and knew about Tim's arrival.

“She’s in surgery.”

Tim’s breath hitched, and he felt his knees go weak. Surgery.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

“Is she…” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t want to hear the answer.

The paramedic’s eyes softened, but there was no comfort in them.

“We don't know yet, the bullet went deep making it a dangerous operation. They’re doing everything they can.”

He was out of breath, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

He couldn’t shake the image of you he created in his brain, lying on the floor of that warehouse, the pain in your eyes, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there to protect you.

He walked over to the waiting area, collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.

His body felt like it was made of stone, but his mind was all fire, anger, guilt, fear, tearing him apart.

All he could do was wait. And pray.

Tim sat in the sterile, quiet hospital room, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on your face.

The soft beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals was the only sound that filled the space, but even that felt too loud, a reminder of the fragile thread that you were hanging on.

Tim had barely been able to breathe since he’d received the call about you.

The news had come like a punch to the gut,

'Officer down.'

It was all a blur after that, the frantic rush to St. Joseph’s, the sterile scent of the emergency room, the doctors giving him no guarantees.

They weren't sure you’d make it through.

Those words had haunted him, repeating in his mind over and over, and no matter how many times he told himself you were a fighter, the fear never quite went away.

He never told you that he loved you properly that morning, never had a chance to make it right.

The argument from the day before still felt raw, and the thought of not getting the chance to apologize tore at his heart like nothing else could.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Tim whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

“I should’ve told you I loved you before. I should’ve… I should’ve been better. I’m so sorry.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, as if his touch could bring you back to him.

Your hand felt warm in his, but the stillness of your body only made him feel more hopeless.

What if he’d never get the chance to make it right?

What if this was the last time he’d hold your hand, the last time he’d be able to tell you how much you meant to him?

Angela and Lucy arrived not long after, their faces a mix of concern and support as they entered the room.

Tim hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked away from you.

Lucy tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes to get him to smile, but it felt impossible.

How could he laugh when you were lying there, so close to slipping away?

She offered him a drink, trying to give him space to breathe, and as soon as she left to go down the hall, Angela stayed behind, sitting beside him in the chair.

“You know, you don’t have to do this alone,”

Angela said, her voice soft but firm, as if trying to remind him he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything by himself.

“You’ve got people who care about you.”

Tim swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The guilt was suffocating, and the uncertainty of what would happen to you next made his chest ache.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her, not after everything. The last words we said to each other… they weren’t even good ones. We fought. I fought with her, and now… now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make it right. What if she… what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Angela reached over, gently placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of empathy.

“Tim, she knows. She knows you love her. She knows you’d never want to hurt her.”

“I should’ve told her that,” Tim muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice thick with regret.

“I should’ve told her before. She deserves to hear that from me, not after everything's already gone wrong. What if... What if she doesn’t know how much she means to me?”

Angela squeezed his arm in reassurance.

“She does, Tim. You just have to believe that. And when she wakes up, you can tell her then. You’ve still got time to make it right.”

“I just wish I’d made more time… before all this happened,”

Tim whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

As the hours dragged on, Lucy came back with a drink, and the two women left, sensing that Tim needed some space.

They both exchanged a concerned glance before making their exit, but their presence, their words of support, had offered Tim a little comfort.

Still, as the door closed behind them, he was left alone in the room again with you.

His heart beat painfully in his chest, and the room felt colder now that the comforting voices of his friends were gone.

He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours as if he could keep you anchored in this world with his touch.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Your fingers twitched, and Tim's heart skipped a beat. His gaze snapped to you, not daring to blink, as he saw your eyelids flutter.

For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but then you blinked again, and this time, your eyes fluttered open, groggy but focused.

Tim didn’t know what to do first. He could barely breathe as he leaned closer, his hands shaking.

“Y/n?” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it as if to make sure you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he was having.

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Your eyes met his, blurry at first, but then clearer as you seemed to recognize him.

A small, weak smile spread across your face, and Tim felt the tight knot in his chest slowly start to loosen.

“Tim?” you whispered, your voice soft, hoarse from the intubation, but still full of recognition.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tim called for the doctor immediately, unable to tear himself away from your side.

His heart raced as he watched you, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.

What if you didn’t make it through this?

What if you slipped away again before they could get to you?

But then the doctor arrived, checking your vitals, and gave them the good news.

You were stable. You had pulled through.

“You’re going to be okay,” the doctor said.

“You’ll need to stay here for a few days, but you’re out of the woods.”

Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt since the moment you were shot.

You were here.

You were with him.

I let out a small chuckle, despite the pain, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thought I was in heaven when I opened my eyes and saw all these lights.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, his hand tightening around yours.

“Please never scare me like that ever again." He said now much more seriously, before speaking up again.

"I’m so, so sorry, babe. For the argument, for the way I talked to you, for everything.”

My smile faltered, my eyes full of vulnerability.

I reached out with my free hand, gently cupping his face.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve let us get so angry. I love you, Tim. I just… I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Tim replied, his voice shaky.

“I love you more than anything. And I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen again. I won’t take you for granted. I’ll fight for us, always.”

My voice cracked as I spoke again, tears spilling from my eyes.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Tim. I don’t ever want us to be apart again.”

Tim kissed my hand, his lips brushing over my knuckles, the tears still flowing freely from both of us.

“I swear, babe, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every moment from here on out showing you how much I love you.”

“No more fights. No more leaving things unsaid. Let’s never do that again.”

Tim smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the words that had been stuck in his heart all along.

“No more fights. I promise. We’re in this together."

"Always.”

In that moment, everything felt right again.

I was alive. I was here, with Tim.

And nothing, no matter what, would ever break us apart again.

The end

#tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfiction #the rookie x reader #the rookie imagine #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford x fem!reader

444 notes · View notes