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fireinmoonshot · 6 months ago

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death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second.

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start.

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it.

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today.

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.”

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason.

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.”

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are.

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence.

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were.

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.”

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike.

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers.

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler.

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you.

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had.

It drives Tyler insane.

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is.

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?”

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another.

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed.

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer.

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers. They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.”

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!”

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God.

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you.

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?”

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening.

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same.

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler.

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat.

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck.

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go.

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet.

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.”

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out.

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again.

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive.

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing.

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual.

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them.

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield.

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims.

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size.

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time.

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this.

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you.

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it.

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore.

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom.

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline.

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead.

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it.

Everything is okay, you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name.

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?”

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.”

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain.

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome.

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!”

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his.

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive.

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive.

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment.

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler.

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.”

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully.

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused.

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being.

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

#tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters x reader #twisters x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfic

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soursturniolo · 7 months ago

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dad!chris hcs/mini blurbs

- the most fun dad to ever exist. pillow fights? he started it. a house wide prank war? he plotted it’s beginning with your youngest secretly. water gun fights in the yard? he took the kids to the nearest target and bought the biggest, most ridiculous water guns he could find.

- literally lives to hear his kids laughing and happy. it breaks his heart to hear any of them cry or feel sad. of course, when they do have their moments of sadness, disappointment, and heartbreaks he is always there with warm hugs and comfort.

- biggest dad jokes out there. youre constantly rolling your eyes.

- builds the kids a treehouse. i said what i said. lowkey the hot handy dad.

- he stays your biggest hype man, and teaches your kids to hype you up too. “isnt mama so pretty?” “yes the pwettiest!!”

- always so proud of the mother you are. he sees your patience and love and care for his children and it literally puts stars in his eyes. he was in love with you before the kids came around, but now this poor man is down bad. youre his one and only forever and always.

- lives for parent drama you tell him about after the kids go to bed. “she said what to WHO at the kids drop off last saturday?! oh baby we gotta fight her,” “chris we are parents in our 30s we aint fighting nobody, not even that bitch.” “… you sure?? pretty sure i could take her husband, hes only like 5’5…”

- this man is so invested in the kids interests. your daughter is into sports? hes right there on the side lines at every game and every tournament with a cute sign and cheering loudly. your sons into art or theater? hes there at every show and recital, front row, beaming and so proud. as the kids get older he worries he’ll embarrass them, but he is so proud of his children and their talents and he makes sure they know that every day.

- tries to keep up with the cool words and sayings of the kids, but uses them completely wrong every time.

- has a hard time being stern with his kids, but can when necessary. but even when hes being stern, hes pretty chill about it, and just explains to the kids calmly and honestly why he’s saying no to something or correcting them.

- definitely goes to his mom and dad for advice a lot. he knows he was blessed with good parents and doesn’t shy away from asking for advice or tips. his ego has no place when it comes to being a dad, he just wants to be the best dad he can be.

tag list members: @freshloveforthefit @angelcake-222 @patscorner @matty-bear @thenickgirl @sturnlova @freshloveee @k1ng-z3ro @jetaimevous @luvr4miya @eden4eva @sturnsslut @ksturniolo7 @sassysturniolo2008 @sturnthepot @lovesturni0l0s @imwetforyourmom @idkwhatthisevenislol @strnlxlqve @zozokok @jamiesturniolo @lovekaiya @mattsfavbitchhh

and as always, thanks for reading💞

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fanfiction #sturniolo tumblr

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it-was-summer · 4 months ago

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The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle.

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle.

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,”

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,”

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?”

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.”

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly.

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least.

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.”

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now.

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?”

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name.

“That’s not-”

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone.

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.”

“I don’t believe in guns.”

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone.

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day.

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys.

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself.

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much.

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies.

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.”

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case.

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills.

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube.

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud.

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him.

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.”

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer.

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it.

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,”

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better.

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets.

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it.

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.”

“Who?”

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.”

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again.

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators.

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again.

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling.

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?”

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head.

“Is it the noise?”

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.”

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away.

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?”

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.”

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently.

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands.

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again.

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air.

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines.

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people.

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery.

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,”

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available.

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?”

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.”

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.”

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself.

“I’m Spencer.”

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket.

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.”

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,”

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello.

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?”

“Third.”

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?”

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.”

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello.

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.”

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat.

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.”

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.”

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.”

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.”

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously.

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest. A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is.

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air.

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn.

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection.

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own.

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film.

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible.

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie.

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you.

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tridenopmoth · 17 days ago

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Spoilers for Intervallo V: LCB Regular Check-up

The first time I went through the boss, moving the eye around in the background reminded me of how the eye from Violet Midnight moved around

and now I'm going through the boss again and I'm looking at his sprite.

Oh, my God, he's kinda looks like a fusion of two monuments (Red and Pale to be exact). Buuuuut think it's just a reference.

What follows next are my thoughts that you shouldn't take at face value and assume that 100% of the theory is correct (I think it's more of a coincidence)

Considering that during this Midnight, you have to adapt employees and analyze thus make up groups by damage type, and Distorted Hohenheim just has skils that literally say that There was also an interesting description on the red monument. “He came here to give mankind his knowledge, once we understand that knowledge we will know the purpose of his actions. But the cost is the physical body, but the knowledge pays for it.” (taken from one of the wikis, not English if anything) which is something similar to Hohenheim, that he distort, for the sake of learning. In other words, he got rid of his body to gain knowledge. And The God Delusion aka Hello Carmen (kinda i guees)

and I'm gonna have to reread the chapter because I went through intervalo very early in the morning. + I had to translate it. so half of the plot I just don't remember anymore, so if anything, I'll reblog new shit, if anythig come to my mind. And oh my god, it's fun to be a old fan in this fandom because you notice a lot of things that being referenced It's really satisfying to notice.

#limbus company #project moon #lobotomy corporation #Hohenheim #Hohenheim lcb

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queenie-avenue · 1 year ago

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Charming Demon Belle!

—> he expresses interest in you.

⤻ reader is female, reader's race/animal theme is not specified, reader is a bit insecure, alastor is a semi-sweetheart in this one, fluff, no canon-typical violence, dancing but it's not jazz *gasp*

notes: this fic was honestly a bit rushed, but i do really love alastor as a character and really wanted to write a fic for him but i currently do not have the time to invest in one idea i have for a longform fic so here's something small. feel free to post asks for alastor, or any other hazbin character, i would love to write your ideas!

💌 ⤻ archives.

You had been at the Hotel for a few months now, working on those trust exercises that Charlie persuaded — forced — you to join in. You loved the girl, but you found her methods to be a bit too idealistic at times. Especially since during your time as a human, you saw just how cruel life could actually be.

Still, you joined in because you came to love the girl. You came to love the rest of the staff and visitors too.

Whenever you came back to the Hotel after a long day of doing whatever, there Husker was with your favourite cocktail or Angel would be there to crack his stupid jokes and innuendos that would always make you huff out a laugh no matter how tired you were. Vaggie was a fun person to be around. There was quite a bit of anger in her, but you couldn't help but like how assertive she could be. You honestly admired her for being such a strong woman, something you thought you could never be. Charlie was just a ray of sunshine and though Nifty was weird, you found her almost endearing, just like Sir Pentious and his nerdy displays.

There was one person you could never calm yourself around though and it was the host of the Hotel.

Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Perhaps it was his reputation that made you feel so uncomfortable around him, but you refrained from speaking to him as much as you could. Those eyes and that never-ending smile seemed to follow you wherever you went, though, and you found that wherever you went, he was there just waiting.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

The Hotel was practically empty by the time afternoon hit. Husk was out getting more things for the bar alongside Nifty, who needed to buy more materials for cleaning. Angel Dust was at work. Charlie and Vaggie seemed to be on a date, of some sorts, encouraged by you as they seemed to be rather stressed these few days because of the upcoming Extermination.

As for Alastor... probably up in his radio tower.

And for you? You were lounging on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, scrolling through various television channels and hoping to find one that would entertain you for long enough.

"Hello, my dear!" The static-filled voice almost made you fall off the couch as you looked up to see the Radio Demon standing over you. "What are you doing?" Alastor inquired, looking at you before his gaze shifted to the TV in front of you, his eyes narrowing in what appeared to be annoyance. "Oh, you're watching a picture box, how quaint." He attempted to remain cordial in his speech, but it was clear he wanted to wreck that television.

He reached for the remote and pressed a few buttons. "What are you doing?" This time, it was your turn to question him.

"Turning off this pesky little thing, dear! You know, too much of this," he pointed his cane at the TV, "rots your brain!" He chuckled as he finally pressed the correct button to turn it off.

"You should get off the couch and get some exercise. Today is far too nice of a day to be wasted on such idle activities." He grinned wider as he his clawed hands grabbed yours and dragged you up.

"H-hey!" You yelled, shocked by the sudden touch. Despite the fact Alastor hated someone invading his personal space, he seemed to love to invade others.

"I know you don't like to exercise, so I have come up with a rather fun activity for us to partake in." Your eyes widened at his words. What in Hell's name did he mean by that? You had seen what Alastor viewed as 'fun' and you were now worried. He snapped his fingers as he dragged you to the middle of the lobby, a radio materialising on the bar desk as it began to loudly play some jazz music. "Some dancing ought to do the trick." He smiled.

"Um, Alastor." You peeped, "I'm glad you want to do an... activity with me. But I don't know how to dance. Let alone dance for some jazz music." You grinned awkwardly up at him as he looked down at you and tutted his lips.

"Ah, no worries." He grinned as he snapped his fingers again, causing the music on the radio to shift from jazz to classical. "We can start slow, of course. I could never force a lady to do something she didn't like." Well, that was ironic, considering what he was doing now.

"Hold on." He grinned as he grabbed your waist, using his other hand to guide yours to his shoulders. Without being able to respond, he dragged you across the floor.

"One, and a two. One and a two." He demonstrated how his feet moved about the floor, forcing you to follow against his steps as he swirled you about the hall. "See, you're already getting a hang of it." You couldn't help but smile at his words.

"Heh, yeah I guess I am." You grew more relaxed as you looked up at Alastor and his toothy grin and ash face.

He grinned wider. "I'm so glad that you are starting to feel comfortable around me, my darling." He expressed as he spun you around. "I was simply so hurt when I saw you interacting with the others but not me." He pulled you closer to his chest, "Might I ask why?" Alastor asked, the static filter on his voice disappearing slightly to reveal his human voice.

"I guess we just have personality clashes?" You tried to lie, not wanting to admit that you were intimidated and scared witless thanks to this demon, especially with the way he stalked you in the shadows at times.

"Haha!" He laughed comically. "My, what an intriguing assumption, my dear Belle!" He exclaimed as he spun you around and dipped you down. "I think we have more in common than you think."

"Like what?" You gasped out as he held you down, your hair brushing against the floor as you gazed up at him.

"Well, we're both sinners."

You deadpanned at his explanation. "That's it?"

"Well, there's certainly more, but why not leave it up for us to discover?" He suggested with a grin before pulling you up, slamming your face into his chest. Alastor gripped your chin in his sharp hands, his smile growing more sinister.

"I would certainly love to know more about you." His smile grew brighter, his eyes glimmering with a hint of intrigue and desire.

Shit, somehow that was the only thought running through your mind.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fic #alastor fic #alastor x female reader

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daysofyellowroses · 1 year ago

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yellow rose

david von erich x afab!reader | 6.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: language, smoking, mild smut | a reflection on your journey to the altar

so this is a complete and utter work of fiction, based on the very brilliant movie the iron claw. i knew as soon as i watched it i would have stories but i was a little surprised david came to me first. obviously harris dickinson is beautiful but i am down so bad for jaw. i got some kerry ideas too, and i always have a hundred different bear ideas on the go too so more to come | also just to note that because this is totally fictitious, i am choosing to ignore real life events for the most part and live in fanfic delusion. enjoy 🌼

It all seemed to happen in a flash.

In theory, you should have been used to it. Ready for it.

One minute you were heading to a local sports center on a work assignment, then in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were walking up the aisle to marry the subject of one of those photos.

But, to get to how exactly you ended up walking down that aisle, you need to go back to how it all started.

Which, like with most things when it came to you,started with a picture.

📷

From an early age, you loved photography. Capturing a moment in time, being able to look at it any time and relive the moment was always a thrill. Your childhood home was full of framed photos and photo albums, a collection of memories surrounding you.

When you turned 13, your parents gave you your own camera. It wasn't anything too technical or fancy, but it was immediately your most treasured possession. You took photos of everything, family occasions, your friends hanging out, nature, snapshots of Dallas.

As you grew older you threw yourself into studying everything about photography, worked an extremely tedious part time job to save up for a real camera, dedicated yourself to honing your skills. It wasn't difficult, your friends and family kept you busy with birthday parties, weddings, christenings, anything worth celebrating and you were there to capture the moments.

When you were in your senior year of high school, you discovered a fondness for a particular subject of your photos. You had been sitting in the bleachers after school one day with your friends, all you of chatting and laughing about something when you'd looked onto the football field and spotted two of the players talking about something animatedly, one of them slapping the other on the back as they laughed.

You had grabbed your camera, snapping a photo and rolled your eyes playfully as your friends teased you. Sure, the players were cute, but that wasn't why you took their photo. When the shots had developed, you were thrilled that your instinct had been correct. The red of the players jerseys popped, the gold star on their helmets gleaming in the sun. They looked graceful, despite their large frames, natural and charming.

From that photo, you began to base more of your photos on sport. It wasn't an area you had expected to become interested in, but it inspired your photography. Cheerleaders in perfectly formed pyramids, track stars crossing the line, football players clutching the ball to their chest as they threw themselves across the post.

After graduation, you applied for a journalism course, figuring it didn't hurt to have a backup plan and maybe it would get you a gig as a photographer for a newspaper or magazine.

Leaving home was tough, especially when a big going away party was thrown for you, your friends and family coming together to celebrate your accomplishments. When the time came to leave you were sure you'd never cried so much, trying to hype yourself up for the adventure ahead.

It was a lot of fun, being at college, as it turned out. Making new friends, learning new things, having new experiences. By the time it was over it felt like you could back and do it all again in a heartbeat.

You decided to move back to Dallas after you graduated. A job opportunity at a big paper came up, and your friend Pam had found an apartment that came with a spare room so it seemed like the right move.

It was about two weeks later you were tasked with going down to the Sportatorium on a Saturday night to document the latest wrestling match. Every time you went to a sporting event for work, you were accompanied by the senior sports writer, Duke. He was older than your father, far too old for his cheap toupee to be even the slightest bit believable. He wore cheap polyester suits, too much cologne and had a fondness for calling you ‘missy’ and placing his hand a little too low on your back.

You had psyched yourself up to ask Pam to come along, preparing a whole speech in your head. If she was with you then you could avoid Duke like the plague, couldn't possibly leave your guest alone.

Turned out Pam didn't take much convincing at all, in fact she practically jumped at the chance to come along. You tucked her excitement away in your mind, curious to see if the source would reveal itself at the match.

When the day came, you were excited to get some shots of a new sport. From what you'd seen on TV, the Sportatorium was bright and colorful, the wrestlers just as much so. You packed up your camera before getting changed into some jeans and a t-shirt.

Pam had taken one look at you and marched you back into your room, your protests of “But I'm working!” falling on deaf ears.

A compromise was reached. Your t-shirt stayed but a denim mini skirt replaced your jeans and brown cowboy boots replaced your beat up sneakers. You felt a little ridiculous, your job had you in all kinds of angles and positions to get the best shots, the last thing you wanted was to be unable to get a good picture because you'd end up flashing tomorrow's laundry to thousands of strangers.

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, the sun was dipping below the horizon and what seemed like hundreds of cars and trucks were pulling up. People were grabbing beers out of coolers, blasting music from boomboxes, grilling up hotdogs on portable barbecues. You got a couple of shots before Pam was hustling you inside to get your seats. Well, her seat. You told her you'd meet her outside after the match, not that she seemed to be paying attention, her eyes focused on the empty ring.

You made your way down to the ring, keeping an eye out for Duke and ready to sprint back to Pam if needed. To your relief, Duke wasn't in attendance. The junior sports reporter, Brian, had been sent in his place. The two of you weren't exactly close friends but he was much more professional. You got some shots of the crowd, feeling excited to see a match live. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, like something incredible was about to happen.

When the announcement came for the first tag team, you got some shots of them walking through the tunnel and into the ring, holding their arms in the air and greeting the crowd. Brian walked around the ring slowly, scribbling into a notepad, cigarette perched behind his ear.

Then they announced the next tag team, and you moved to the opposite tunnel to get shots of them. You took a breath as you snapped a shot of the taller one, his wavy blonde hair peeking out from under his back cowboy hat. He was wearing a leather jacket that he promptly tore off before he got into the ring, his back muscles rippling.

You cleared your throat, taking more photos and trying to concentrate on what you were there for.

The bell rang, and once the match started you had no shortage of great photo opportunities. The men in the ring moved with perfect proficiency and style, playing up to the crowd and putting on a spectacular show. You found yourself more and more drawn to the tall blonde, David Von Erich, you discovered.

He was so graceful yet could have these huge men slammed onto their backs, his arms bulging and a cocky grin on his face. Once or twice you could have sworn he caught your eye and winked at you but you were sure it was your imagination.

The Von Erichs won the match, you snapped a photo of the referee holding up the brother's hands as the crowd roared. Brian checked back in with you, telling you he was going to grab some quotes before heading off. You bid him farewell before going to find Pam, heading outside with the rest of the crowd.

“Hey, over here!”

You quickly spotted Pam, smiling as you waved back at her, weaving your way through the crowd to join her.

“Hey,” You smiled, laughing softly as Pam grabbed your arm, a wide grin on her face. “Are you al-”

“Come on,” Pam immediately started tugging you in the opposite direction. “let me show you something,”

You just about managed to maintain your balance and hold onto your camera as you dodged through the dispersing crowd, wondering what exactly Pam was doing.

Before long you had an answer, as you and Pam joined a large group of women hanging around the back door of the Sportatorium. Her keenness to come to the match made much more sense when Kevin Von Erich walked out the door, towel around his shoulders and bag slung over his shoulder. You had never known Pam to look at any man the way she was looking at Kevin.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked, giving Pam a gentle nudge. “Get on over there, girl.”

“I can't, there's too many girls round him,” Pam sighed. “I am not desperate. I'll wait for my time.”

“Saving the best for last huh?” You grinned, watching Pam roll her eyes playfully. “I don't think he's gonna be able to take his eyes off you.”

“You think?” Pam asked, glancing over to you. She looked genuinely concerned and you gave her a reassuring smile.

“I know.”

A little while later, when the crowd had dispersed and Kevin was signing the last couple of autographs, you gave Pam a gentle nudge, smiling as she quickly fixed her hair.

“Good luck,” You grinned, gently squeezing her arm. “Not that you need it.”

You gave her some space, walking over to a trash can before fishing a pack of cigarettes from your purse. You lit one up, glancing over to Pam and smiling as you spotted Kevin heading in her direction. Closing your eyes as you looked away, you took a long drag on your cigarette and felt yourself relax.

“You know it's a bad habit to smoke those things.”

You opened your eyes, finding a familiar face standing close to you. He looked better in person than he did in the ring, if that was possible.

“Well I'm sure you know that it is very rude to keep your hat on in the presence of a lady,” You raised a brow, flicking your ash into the trash can. “I could be deeply insulted.”

“I apologize,” David grinned, taking off his hat and giving you a slight bow as he did. He introduced himself properly, as did you, his hand moving over his heart as he tilted his head. “You know I was just joking, there's worse habits to have than smoking.”

You nodded, smiling a little. “Like creeping up on strangers?”

He laughed and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You willed it away, not wanting to be another simpering fan.

“You want one?” You asked, holding out the box of cigarettes. David looked like he was considering saying yes before he shook his head.

“No, thank you. I shouldn't.”

“Fair enough,” You nodded, putting the box back in your purse. “It really is a bad habit. I'm trying to quit but I got some time to kill so..”

“Oh yeah?” David raised a brow, glancing around the quiet car park before looking back at you. “What you waiting for?”

“My friend,” You gestured in the direction of Pam, who was deep in conversation with Kevin. “she's a big fan.”

“So I see,” David grinned, looking over to his brother and Pam before focusing his attention back on you. “and uh..what about you? Are you a big fan?”

You thought about it/made him wait for a moment as you took a drag on your cigarette and raised a brow.

“I'm just here for work.”

“Really?” David looked a little surprised, lightly rubbing his jaw. “What kinda work do you do?”

You held up your camera with a smile before flicking your cigarette in the trash can. “I’m a photographer,” You explained. “for a newspaper.”

“Oh right,” David smiled, folding his arms. “I'll have to buy that, see if you got any good ones of me. Which paper is it?”

“It's the uh..huh,” You grinned as you glanced over to Pam, watching her laugh as Kevin said something to her. “Excuse me for one second.”

You turned slightly, holding your camera up and focusing it on Pam and Kevin. You felt very aware of David's presence behind you, trying to hold your hands steady as you snapped a picture.

“I have a feeling I may need that one day,” You smiled, settling your camera strap back over your shoulder and turning to David. “They're cute together, don't you think?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” David nodded, his gaze staying on you. “She ain't the cutest one here though.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile on your face and multiple flutters in your stomach.

“Oh shut up, that's such a line.”

“I'm deadly serious,” David grinned, holding his hat over his heart. “I promise.”

You were about to say something when Pam appeared, linking her arm with yours and giggling as she went to drag you away.

“Hang on one second,” David called, making you look over your shoulder with a smile.

“You never told me the name of your paper!”

“It's in Dallas,” You called back, walking forward with Pam, the two of you giggling. “If you find it, call me!”

📷

A couple of days later you were in the newspaper office, going over some photos for an upcoming article when one of the secretaries knocked on the door and asked for you.

“Call for you,” She explained, gesturing to the phone as you went to her desk. “They didn't give a name, just asked for you.”

“Okay, thanks Margaret,” You smiled, feeling a slight knot in your stomach. It was extremely rare someone called you at work, and you tried not to think the worst.

Going to the phone, you picked it up and took a deep breath before holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello yourself.”

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you realized who was on the other end of the line, a small smile on your face.

“How many papers did you have to call before you found me?”

“That's not important.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin.

“More than two?”

“..five.”

“Oh wow,” You grinned, turning more towards the wall. “That's perseverance right there. I'm flattered.”

“Well so am I,” David replied. “I saw those pictures you took. They were great, I wanted to thank you for catching me at such a flattering angle.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder before looking back and lowering your voice slightly. “That the only reason you called six newspapers? Angles?”

“Not quite,” You could hear a cheeky tone in his voice, your fingers holding the phone cord. “I was hoping you'd come see me again. You don't have to take pictures this time, if you don't want.”

“As it happens I am coming,” You raised a brow with a smile. “Your brother beat you to the invite. He invited Pam, who invited me. So I'll be there.”

“Well damn,” David laughed softly. “I guess I'll just have to come right out with it then..ask you on a real date.”

“Oh?” You grinned, feeling like a teenager as your cheeks grew warm. “How about we make it interesting?”

“I'm all ears.”

You took a breath, trying to calm your heartbeat. You were aware of Margaret behind you, knowing she'd be listening to every word.

“Alright, if you win..I accept. If you don't, no deal.”

“Hm, sounds fair,” David replied. “I guess I'll have to try a little harder this week. I'll let you get back to work, alright?”

“Alright,” You nodded, trying not too smile too widely. “I'll see you Saturday. Bye.”

You hung up the phone, turning around to Margaret with a polite smile.

“Thank you, I'll be in the office.”

Once you closed the door and found yourself alone, you let out a laugh, shaking your head and wondering what you'd let yourself in for.

📷

Saturday came around quickly, and most of the day was given over to preparing. At first you were just helping Pam, heading into store after store to find the perfect outfit. Then you started looking for yourself, realizing that you wanted to put in just a little more effort since you were going to watch, not work.

As the evening drew closer, the radio was on full blast in the apartment as you and Pam cracked open a bottle of wine and started the beauty process. You couldn't shake the slight nerves that were settled in your stomach, but they were joined by an excitement.

“Oh,” Pam turned from the bathroom mirror to look at you. You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, carefully painting your toenails. “Did he ever get in touch? David? I completely forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, he found me,” You grinned, laughing as Pam gasped. “Asked me to come along tonight. I told him I was already coming.”

“And?” Pam asked, waving her hand at you. “What else? Did he ask you out?”

“I told him he can take me out if he wins,” You smiled, holding the bottle of nail polish up in the air with a laugh as Pam rushed over to hug you.

“This is so exciting! We're gonna be like sisters!”

📷

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, it seemed to be even busier than it had been the previous week. You stepped out of your truck, smoothing out your outfit. It was only a black off the shoulder top and some denim jeans but you hoped it still looked good.

You linked your arm with Pam's as the two of you headed inside the bustling arena, your heart beating faster as you took your seats. As it turned out, watching the match was totally different to photographing it. You couldn't move about, couldn't pick one thing to focus on. It was all happening, bright and loud and thrilling. You found yourself cheering and whistling with the crowd, you and Pam both jumping up and screaming when the Von Erichs emerged victorious.

When it was all over and you were enjoying the fresh air, you couldn't help but find it adorable when Kevin couldn't keep his eyes off Pam while he signed autographs. Once he was free you gave him and Pam some space, almost immediately bumping into David.

“Hey winner,” You smiled, resting your hands in your back pockets. “Nice angles in there.”

“I hope someone was there to capture them,” David grinned, taking his hat off. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, watching David for a moment, smiling as you realized he almost seemed a little nervous. “I really enjoyed it..though I'm a little curious about something.”

“What might that be?” David asked, moving his hat from one hand to the other.

“Well,” You smiled, stepping closer and looking up at him. “Are you going to honor our agreement?”

📷

It was only when you were putting on your coat to leave the apartment when it dawned on that you hadn't actually been on a first date for..a while. There were some relationships in high school, a couple in college along with some dates and flings but the last had been before you graduated.

You tried not to think about it too much, you were just going for dinner and seeing a movie. Worst case scenario, you and David didn't end up hitting it off and the world would go on as it always did. But part of you was hopeful that something would come from the date, that it would develop into something really great.

Grabbing your purse, you left the apartment and went downstairs to hail a cab, excitement starting to outweigh the nerves.

📷

“No way,” You laughed, your eyes going wide as you placed your hand over your chest. “You did not do that.”

“Yes I did,” David nodded, a serious look on his face before he laughed. “I was so sick afterwards. Never got found out though. Mom just went and got Kerry and Mike a new egg each. I couldn't eat chocolate for like three months.”

“I'm not surprised,” You laughed, picking up your drink. “You can't say you didn't deserve it.”

David laughed, nodding as he picked up his own drink.

“I certainly did deserve it. Moment of weakness I guess.”

You took a sip of your drink before setting the glass down and glancing around the restaurant. It was a steakhouse, but it felt like a nice one. Elegant lighting, candles on the tables, classy music playing. No sawdust or butcher paper to be found.

“So do you think your brothers ever found out?” You asked, sitting up a little and resting your hands in your lap. “Or did you tell them?”

“No to both I'm afraid,” David sighed softly, lightly tapping his glass as he set it down. “Though I think Kev knew it was me..” He smiled to himself as he looked down. “Never said anything if he did know, though.”

“Seems like you two are close,” You smiled, your heart picking up a beat as David looked back at you with a warm smile.

“We are,” He nodded. “We all are. I can't imagine life without them, they're amazing.”

You felt your heart swell, trying not to get too swept up in your emotions.

“That's so wonderful,” You smiled. “It's amazing that you're all so close.”

“Yeah,” David grinned, sitting up a little. “I just feel so lucky every day, like..” He stopped himself, lightly rubbing his neck.

“You know what, I feel like all I've done is talk about myself, my brothers, I don't want you to think I'm self absorbed or nothing, I promise I ain't like that.”

You shook your head, reaching your hand across the table and grinning when David held it with his own.

“I know you're not,” You insisted. “You're wonderful. Now tell me more about your family, I want the good stories.”

You ended up missing the movie, but neither of you cared. You talked until the restaurant was closing, David's jacket around your shoulders as you walked out into the night air. He gave you a ride home and kissed your cheek by your door like a gentleman.

“I had a great time,” You smiled, carefully taking off David's jacket and giving it back to him. You could tell he wanted to tell you to keep it, and you knew why he couldn't.

“Maybe you should win another match, take me out again.”

“It's a deal.”

📷

Going to matches became a weekly event. You and Pam would cheer and cling to each other, laughing at how silly you were being. You took pictures for yourself, wanting to remember every moment. Afterwards you would meet David and Kevin, go for burgers and debrief on the match.

It wasn't always easy for David to visit you, so you called each other when you could, spending an hour or two talking about anything and everything. You drove down to Denton a couple of times, meeting him for something to eat or just for a drive.

He was always a perfect gentleman, opening doors for you and holding your hand, never pressing for anything more even though you suspected he was just as keen as you were to take things further.

You decided to nudge things in the right direction one night when you had gone down to visit him. Pam had come with you, and David and Kevin had taken you to the lake with their brother Mike, who you instantly adored.

The afternoon was perfect, gorgeous hot weather and ice cold beers, floating along in the water and feeling like nothing else could possibly matter but being in that moment.

You were sitting on the edge of the dock while the others drifted along on the huge rubber float, snapping a couple of shots of them before setting the camera aside. David appeared next to you, sitting down and resting his hand on your back. You leaned into the touch, his arm moving around your shoulders.

“I love this,” You smiled softly, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “If every day was like this..what a world.”

“It's perfect,” David murmured softly. “I can't think of anything better.”

“Hm, I reckon I can,” You smiled, opening your eyes and looking up at him. His eyes were already on you and you grinned as he took a breath and leaned in, his lips feeling like heaven against yours.

You could hear the cheers and whistles, smiling into the kiss and feeling satisfied beyond belief.

📷

“You ready for this?”

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Absolutely not.”

You flicked on the indicator and headed up the long drive to the Von Erich home, glancing over to Pam in the passenger seat.

“At least we're in this together.”

It was incredibly daunting, the thought of meeting David's parents and his brother Kerry, who had recently come home. He had told you countless times that they would love you, but it didn't ease your nerves.

You were relieved to have Pam with you, that she was in the same boat. Mike met you both at the door, giving you both a hug and chatting away as he led you outside.

It was a flurry of introductions, handshakes and hugs and the most perfect kiss from David that had you instantly relaxing.

By the time everyone sat down for dinner, it felt as though you had known the Von Erichs forever. The food was delicious, the weather was beautiful, the company was amazing. You felt David reach for your hand under the table when his parents talked about how they met, your heart swelling.

When Doris forbade Mike from going to a gig that night, you glanced across the table to Pam smiling as she gave you a slight nod.

📷

“Alright, drive, drive!”.

You put your foot down, laughing as you glanced in the mirror and watched your boyfriend and his brothers gradually haul themselves into your truck. You turned the radio up when you left the driveway, rolling down the windows and cheering as you hit the road.

It didn't matter whose house the party was in, it was big and roomy and most importantly, fun. You had a beer in your hand before you knew it, hitting the makeshift dance floor. The brothers spun you and Pam around, laughter filling the air as you moved to the music, not a care in the world.

When Mike took to the stage with his band, you stood with David behind you, his arms wrapped around you. You all cheered as the song started up, swaying along as you held your hands over David's.

Later in the evening you gently took David's hand and pulled him into a quiet corner, whispering in his ear and enjoying the slightly tipsy smile that crossed his face, a flash of worry passing his eyes.

You led him upstairs, finding an empty bedroom and closing the door.

“We..we don't have to,” David insisted as you slipped off your shoes. “I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I don't,” You smiled, walking to the end of the bed and unzipping your dress before turning back to David. “But I will think you don't want to if you don't get over here in the next thirty seconds.”

He didn't need to be asked twice.

You laughed as you were picked up bridal style and carried to the top of the bed, letting out a soft moan as David laid you down and gave you a tender kiss.

Despite your suspicions that David was possibly a virgin, you didn't ask when he didn't bring it up. He was a little apprehensive, but once you took the lead he seemed to tap into his ring persona and the confidence in his movements had you struggling not to scream as your nails dug into his back, the sheets, your body crying out for more.

“Oh god,” You moaned, touching David's cheek and looking up to meet his eyes as your legs hooked around his waist. “Baby..’m so close, please..”

You closed your eyes as he pushed deeper into you, his forehead resting against yours.

“Me too,” He murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “Fuck..fuck..I love you.”

Your eyes went wide at the confession, a deep moan spilling from your lips as you felt a wave crash over you, feeling David fill you moments later. You moved your hands to his neck, meeting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” He sighed, looking down. “I shouldn't have-this isn't the time..”

“No,” You insisted, a smile spreading on your face. “It's the perfect time. I love you, too.”

📷

“Mind if I get one of those?”

You turned around, letting out a sigh of relief as you spotted Kerry walking towards you.

“Of course,” You smiled, taking the box of cigarettes from your purse and handing it over. “Thought you were David for a second.”

Kerry laughed as he accepted the box, shaking his head.

“Nah, your secret is safe with me. Just needed one huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, flicking away the ash. “I'm so nervous. I don't know why, it's not like I have to walk down the aisle in front of hundreds of people wearing this,” You raised a brow, gesturing to your dress.

As much as you adored Pam, and as thrilled as you were that she was getting married and had asked you to be her maid of honor, you did not exactly love the dress she had chosen. For a start, it was a mix of dusky pink and peach, the skirt was so big you wondered if you fit down the aisle, and the sleeves were almost the size of your head.

“I feel you,” Kerry nodded, looking down at himself as he lit his cigarette. “I think we all feel a little ridiculous. But you know the worst part?”

“Go on,” You smiled, lifting up the puffball that had slipped down your shoulder. “shock me.”

“I gotta do this three more times,” Kerry sighed, lightly prodding the flower attached to his suit. “At least you get to choose your wedding dress. I'm stuck in velvet hell.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a drag on your cigarette.

“Oh come on, it ain't so bad. I think I heard Mike say he would never have velvet.”

“Really?” Kerry raised a brow, looking over to you.

“Promise,” You grinned, holding your hand over your heart. “He said he'd have velour.”

“Oh fuck off,” Kerry laughed, shaking his head and holding his hand out. “Gimme a mint and get out of here, I'll velour you.”

“I'd like to see you try,” You laughed, getting a mint from your purse and flicking your cigarette away before walking over to Kerry. “See you inside. Don't destroy that flower.”

📷

“Isn't she beautiful?” You smiled, watching Pam and Kevin sway on the dancefloor, smiles etched on their faces as they moved to the music.

You felt the urge to take a photo, but a professional had been hired for the day. Pam had insisted she wanted you to be in the pictures, not the one behind the camera. You had been a little disappointed, but you gave her the photo you'd taken from when she and Kevin had first met, and her reaction made it all worth it.

“She really is,” Doris nodded, looking over to you and taking your hand with a smile. “And you will be too.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let me go get us another drink.”

You stood up, making your way over to the bar with a smile. While you and David weren't officially engaged, it was kind of an unspoken truth that when Pam and Kevin had gotten married, David would propose to you next. Kerry wasn’t seeing anyone, and while Mike was dating a girl, they had only been together a few weeks.

So, you knew you were next up.

As you waited for your drinks, you smiled as you felt a familiar presence by your side.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“Yes,” You grin, turning to face David and giving him a kiss. “But I don't mind hearing it again.”

As the song ended and a new one started up, more guests took to the floor.

“Should we go for a twirl?” David asked, gently stroking your cheek. “or maybe not quite a twirl, that dress will take out anyone who comes close,” He teased.

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, lightly swatting him. “I'm getting your mom a drink, if I don't take you out first.”

“I'll take it to her,” David smiled, leaning down to give you a soft kiss. “Then you owe me a dance.”

📷

So, here it is.

The big day.

You thought at times it would never come, but it's here.

A lot has happened, of course. Weddings need buildup, after all. The guests can only talk about how beautiful you look and wonder who did the food for so long. You gotta give them something.

So what's new? It's been a minute, a luxuriously long engagement.

The Von Erichs have gone from strength to strength, reaching the top of the wrestling game. You still go see matches, when you can. They're global now, you always feel a rush of pride when you watch them on TV at some crazy hour.

Pam is a world class veterinarian, an incredible mother to the most gorgeous baby, and still the best friend in the world.

Kevin won the WHC belt, is the most devoted husband, father, brother, brother-in-law and son. He and Pam keep saying they're going to buy a ranch in Hawaii for everyone to live in, and you like to think maybe it could be true.

Kerry insists he's your favorite brother-in-law, and you insist that you couldn't possibly choose a favorite but deep down you think he's most likely right. He makes you laugh the most, teases you and makes stupid jokes to cheer you up when you need it. The two of you have sneaky cigarettes and know what the other is thinking when you look at each other.

Mike has just signed a recording contract with his band, and you tell him all the time he better come to you first with concert tickets. He's going to be the next one engaged, he's so loved up and it's adorable.

Then there's David.

The yellow rose who called up six different newspapers just to ask you out, who let you into his life, who loves you unconditionally and makes you so unbelievably happy that you wonder what you ever did without him. You would never have pursued your dreams without him and his family, that's something you know. And let's not forget his proposal, which was the most beautiful moment of your life.

David had taken you on a surprise trip one night, insisting that you were just going for a drive after you'd been out for dinner, but you knew it wasn't true. You found yourself at the lake, David's hand in yours as you walked down to the dock, which..was decorated with candles in jars, rose petals, a bottle of champagne sitting in ice.

Knowing that you were marrying your soulmate, joining a family you loved deeply, it made you feel so safe, so secure. You quit your job, deciding to pursue your real passion. You bought a gallery in Dallas, and displayed your own work along with other local artists, including your soon to be mother in law. It took time, but it's become a success, and you don't care what any of them say, you couldn't have done it without your family.

Plenty for the guests to talk about, right?

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, Pam fixes your dress and you take a deep breath. Her dress is beautiful, and most importantly, simple.

Before you know it you're walking down the aisle, your heart beating faster as hundreds of faces smile at you, but there's only one you need to see, and when you do it makes everything okay.

You reach the top of the aisle, feeling overwhelmed with love, beaming as you turn to look at your soon to be husband.

“You know it's a bad habit to leave the bride with a veil over her face,” You grinned, watching David gently touch the hem of the silky veil and carefully move it back, a wide smile on his face.

“I do apologize,” He grinned. “Still gonna marry me?”

“Of course,” You smiled. “You look perfect from this angle.”

#the iron claw #the iron claw fic #the iron claw fanfiction #david von erich x reader #david von erich x you #harris dickinson #harris dickinson fanfic #harris dickinson x reader #harris dickinson x you

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nemoredraw · 4 days ago

Text

— TIM DRAKE X OC —[ENG version] (NSFW) Trapped Among the Rubble. (TIMO ship) (not canon)

Note: Hi! Here’s the English version. The Spanish version is available on my Patreon if you’re interested.

P.S. English is not my native language, so there are probably a lot of mistakes in both the writing and translation. I just hope it was translated well enough. I didn’t even read through it completely to check if everything was correct because I know I wouldn’t understand a damn thing.

Anyway, I hope it makes some sense, and if not, at least you’ll get an idea of the dynamic between these two. If you have any suggestions, questions, or doubts, don’t be afraid to comment.

Thank you so much for reading this far!

P.S.2: I’m not a writer, so I also apologize for the bigger mistakes you’re about to see while reading.

Best regards!

Red Robin was exhausted by Nemo, tired of the same routine over and over again. Nemo caused chaos, and as always, he had to be there to clean up the mess, stop him, and try to catch him to lock him up in Arkham Asylum. But the villain was cunning and elusive, always finding a way to escape or playing his cards so skillfully that he always managed to get away. However, this time things were different. Due to one of Nemo’s bombs, both of them got trapped under large concrete blocks. The pressure of the concrete on his body was unbearable, and the air, thick with dust, made it even harder to breathe. There was no way out of there. Any attempt to move anything could be much more dangerous. The only option was to wait for someone to rescue them. Nemo was handcuffed, but Red Robin kept his eyes on him as his mind tried to come up with a plan to escape that trap.

Dust floated in the air, suspended like a dense cloud that enveloped the space and made visibility even harder. Red Robin, trapped under the concrete slab, felt the weight not only of the block but of the years of constant fighting against Nemo. It wasn’t just about facing him; it was the feeling of being stuck in an endless cycle, where he always had to stop him, and yet, he always came back. The frustration consumed him from the inside. Every minute he spent there, his exhaustion became more evident, not just physically, but emotionally. The fatigue of an endless war that seemed to have no end.

The sound of his breathing, labored and broken, broke the heavy silence. He was close to Nemo, close enough to feel his unsettling presence. Despite being seemingly immobilized, Nemo never stopped smiling with that unchanging expression, that grimace that irritated Red Robin so much. The handcuffs glinted under the dim light filtering from some distant corner, but Nemo’s calm wasn’t that of someone defeated. It was the calm of someone who knew the game wasn’t over. The game never truly ends. There was always something more, an unexpected move.

—Do you think someone will come for us?— Nemo asked, his tone almost mocking, as if he was enjoying the situation.

Red Robin didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the scene, looking for any crack, any possibility of escape, or a way out of there before time ran out. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Nemo’s words. For so long, he had been waiting for his teammates to rescue him, but as time passed, the feeling that help wouldn’t arrive began to take over him.

—What have you done?— he finally replied, his voice deep and filled with doubt, although he couldn’t avoid the feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He always wondered if things could have been different. If maybe Nemo wouldn’t be a threat if he had acted sooner, if he had stopped him when he still had the chance. How many more times would he have to live this?

Nemo chuckled, a laugh that seemed to ripple through his body, fueled by the adrenaline and fun that never left him.

—You did what you could, Red Robin. But you know what they say… there’s always more at stake.—

Silence settled between them, heavy and palpable. Despite being handcuffed, despite being seemingly at Red Robin’s mercy, the hero knew that Nemo never played to lose. His unwavering gaze reflected something beyond the superficial calm; an unbreakable spark of enjoyment, the same one he always had, even in the worst situations.

Red Robin squinted, a mix of helplessness and fury flooding his being. Sometimes he had the patience to tolerate Nemo’s voice, but at that moment, with all the accumulated fatigue, the irritation was stronger. He moved closer to him, determined not to fall for his game. He wasn’t going to give him the luxury of exploding and slapping him like he wanted to, but instead, he knelt in front of him, staring closely into his eyes, while the villain remained seated, handcuffed, in a posture that only increased his air of contempt.

—Nemo… I can’t keep picking up everything you destroy. One day, this will end, and when that happens, I won’t be there to fix it. Then what will you do? Will you cry to your partners to get you out of this? Believe me… your partners wouldn’t give a penny for you.—

Nemo tilted his head slowly, his smile widening slightly, but his eyes reflected something much deeper. It wasn’t anger, not even annoyance, but that unbreakable spark of fun that never went out, as if everything was just another game for him.

—Oh, Red Robin, how naïve you are…— he whispered, stretching the words as if it were a shared secret. —You always talk as if you were indispensable. Like, without you, everything would fall apart.—

Red Robin didn’t look away. He wasn’t going to let Nemo drag him into one of his mental games. Not this time.

—It’s not about me, it’s about you,— he replied firmly. —You think everything revolves around chaos, that there will always be someone to pick up the pieces you leave behind. But one day, you’ll be left alone, trapped in one of your own traps, and then… what? Who will be there to get you out?—

Nemo tilted his head back, resting it against the concrete block surrounding him. The laugh that escaped his mouth echoed in the confined space, a sound that seemed to multiply in the darkness surrounding them.

—You know? I like seeing you like this, with that contained frustration. It makes you more human.—

Red Robin didn’t react, but his jaw tightened, marking the discomfort he felt with every word of Nemo.

—I’m not the only one who’ll get tired of this game, Nemo. Gotham gets tired. Your partners get tired. And when you’re no longer useful, when you’re trapped without a bomb, without a plan, without an escape… what will you do then?—

Nemo fell silent for a moment, as if Red Robin’s words had touched something deep within his mind. For a second, Red Robin thought he had planted a seed of doubt, that maybe the seed of uncertainty was beginning to grow. But Nemo didn’t take long to lean slightly toward him, without losing that relentless smile.

—Then… I’ll have to make sure that, when that day comes, you’ll be trapped with me.—

Red Robin, with a piercing gaze, raised his arm to show him the scene stretching around them. A scene of chaos and desolation, of irreparable consequences. A scene where they were both trapped, victims of their own actions.

—That day has arrived, Nemo, it’s closer than you think. You just have to look around.—

Red Robin’s tone was cold but filled with determination. He didn’t want to show even the slightest hint of doubt. Inside, he had already made a decision. This time, there would be no escape for Nemo.

—This time, you won’t escape, Nemo. This time, I’ll put you in prison… for your own good.—

With a quick movement, Red Robin grabbed Nemo by his clothes and pulled him toward him, shoving him in a way that Nemo could see the threat was real. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Red Robin’s words were firm, there was something in his expression that betrayed his frustration.

Nemo, showing no resistance, allowed Red Robin to pull him toward him. However, his smile didn’t disappear. His eyes slowly scanned the rubble, as if he was really seeing the ruin reflected in that landscape of destruction, as if he accepted that, in some way, this was his destiny.

—Well, Red… you almost sound like you care.— Nemo commented, his voice light, mocking, but with a hint of something else that wasn’t easy to identify.

Red Robin didn’t let himself be distracted. He kept his grip on his clothes, firm as a rock. He knew he had to stay in control, even though Nemo’s presence was becoming harder to handle.

—I don’t care about you, I care about stopping you before this kills you.— he replied coldly, without taking his eyes off him.

Nemo laughed, a low and almost imperceptible laugh, as if it were a whisper in the stillness of chaos. There was something in that laugh, something more than just mockery.

—Always so heroic… Always believing you can save everyone, even those who don’t want to be saved.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened. That phrase, so characteristic of Nemo, always made him lose his patience, but now he couldn’t give in. Not this time.

—It’s not about what you want, Nemo. It’s about what you’ve done. And this time, there’s no escape, no bombs, no partners coming to get you. It’s just you and me, and when you get out of here, it’ll be straight to Arkham.—

A heavy silence filled the air between them. Nemo looked at him with an unsettling intensity, evaluating every word, every move. Finally, with a shrug and a sly smile, he murmured:

—If you really believed that… you wouldn’t be trying to convince me.—

Red Robin let him go with a slight shove, as if he needed to distance himself from Nemo’s unshakable attitude, from that smile that never left. But he couldn’t let that distract him. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was making sure Nemo didn’t escape, not this time.

The dust kept falling, and uncertainty lingered in the air. Maybe help would come. Maybe not. But what Red Robin knew for sure was that this time, Nemo wouldn’t get out of there like he always did. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Suddenly, the ceiling began to shake, a crack echoed, and before he could react, something fell with force. The danger of being trapped under the rubble became real. Red Robin saw a concrete block falling directly onto Nemo, and without thinking, he lunged toward him, pushing him quickly to avoid the impact.

The blow was inevitable, but Red Robin managed to protect him, both of them getting buried even deeper under the rubble. Red Robin was over Nemo, his body shielding him from the fallen blocks while dust surrounded them.

Nemo blinked, surprised by Red Robin’s sudden action. For a moment, there were no words, only their heavy breathing, the sound of rubble settling around them, and the weight of the hero on top of him. Red Robin, although angry, had chosen to save him.

Then, that initial surprise shifted into something else. Something he couldn’t even fully define.

—Wow, Red…— Nemo murmured, his usual mocking tone, but this time, there was something more. A slight surprise in his voice. —If you wanted me this close, you could’ve just asked.—

Red Robin scoffed, barely moving to prop himself up on his forearms. His brow was furrowed, frustration evident on his face.

—Shut up, Nemo.—

But Nemo couldn’t stay quiet, not when his mind was still processing what had just happened. Red Robin had saved him. Despite everything, despite every fiber of his being probably wishing to see him behind bars, he had chosen to save him.

Nemo tilted his head slightly, making his handcuffs jingle as he moved his wrists.

—So… you’re still hell-bent on saving me, huh?—

Red Robin looked away for a moment, but it was enough for Nemo to notice.

—See?— Nemo whispered, with that sly smile of his. —It’s not just about justice. You care.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened even more.

—I care about the lives you ruin, Nemo.—

—Mine included, it seems.— the villain replied, almost in a whisper.

The tension between them was palpable, different from all the previous times. Maybe because the space was even smaller, maybe because this time Nemo didn’t have a clear escape, or maybe because, deep down, they had always been trapped together. Only now, that trap was literal.

Nemo sighed dramatically.

—Well, Red, looks like we’re in deeper trouble. What now? Do we wait for rescue or do you keep convincing yourself that you don’t care about me?—

Red Robin tried to keep his eyes away from the man, maintaining distance even though it was impossible in such a confined space. The tension in the air was undeniable. He lowered his gaze, frustrated, towards the man who still had the power to destabilize him.

—You’re going to shut up and stay still. I don’t want to hear you anymore.— he said, gritting his teeth, unable to deny that every word from Nemo did affect him.

The atmosphere was still heavy, filled with that mutual discomfort. They were both trapped, not just under the rubble, but by their intertwined fates. No way out, no clear answers.

But Nemo wasn’t someone who knew when to let go. He tilted his head, looking at Red Robin with that intensity that made the skin crawl.

—You know?— he murmured, in a lower tone, almost… sincere. —Sometimes I wonder what you’d be without me.—

Red Robin snapped his gaze up, his eyes burning with contained fury.

—I’d be free.—

Nemo chuckled softly, but this time, there was no mockery in it. Only something more tangled in the tense air between them.

—I don’t think so.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because, deep down, although he hated admitting it… Nemo was right.

A strange weight fell over him, as if, somehow, he had glanced at something he had always feared accepting. What would he be without the constant presence of Nemo, without the endless missions and confrontations that never seemed to end? He could live a quieter life, less frantic, less… destroyed. He could live a life less tormented by the decisions of a man he was always supposed to stop, who always overwhelmed him, who always forced him to question himself.

But what Red Robin couldn’t accept was that the absence of Nemo would mean the absence of everything he had been. His life, no matter how chaotic, seemed intertwined with that constant struggle.

Red Robin fell silent, looking away. A heavy sigh, loaded with mental exhaustion, escaped his lips. He didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between them, like an invisible wall that rose every time Nemo challenged him with those words.

Nemo didn’t miss a detail of Red Robin’s reaction. That pause, that silence… it was more eloquent than any biting response he could’ve given. He didn’t need words to know that he had touched something inside of him, something the hero didn’t want to face. The uncomfortable truth that, somehow, all of this was more personal than Red Robin wanted to admit.

For the first time in a long while, Nemo also fell silent. Not because he had nothing to say, but because, for some reason, he felt that breaking that moment would make it less real. And there was something in the air, something strange, that kept him there, in that suspended moment.

The air was thick, laden with dust and tension. The rubble continued to fall slowly, but what weighed more was the palpable discomfort between them. Red Robin was still over Nemo, their bodies too close, too intertwined in a mess Nemo himself had caused. Everything seemed frozen in that instant, as if nothing else could move, as if the universe had halted its course for a brief moment.

Finally, Nemo averted his gaze to nothingness, exhaling with a smile that was almost… tired.

—You don’t have to save me all the time, Red.—

It was the first time he had said something like that. No mockery, no provocation. Just a simple statement, almost resigned.

But Red Robin didn’t respond. And that silence, more than any word, left a truth hanging between them. Did he really need to save him? Why did he feel that persistent need? Doubt began to take root in his mind, but it wasn’t something he could cling to for long. The answer remained the same: if he didn’t do it, someone else would. But who? Would anyone else save him from himself?

Red Robin slightly lifted his gaze, almost as if he didn’t want to be seen. He looked at the man beneath him, this time without any signs of arrogance or superiority, something rare in Nemo. No games, no masks. Something strange was happening in that moment, and Red Robin couldn’t stop noticing it. But he refused to give it importance. He couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t give it the weight he thought it didn’t deserve. He had to stay distant, cold, even despite the physical closeness they were being forced into.

If he didn’t save him, who would? That question still lingered in his mind. And the answer remained empty.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, as if doing so could push away the question that had formed in his mind. As if he could avoid the feeling that, no matter how many times he caught Nemo, how many times he put him in prison or tried to break this cycle, he would always end up back at the same point.

Because if he didn’t save him, no one else would.

He hated himself for thinking that way. Hated that, deep down, part of him felt that responsibility, as if Nemo were his problem, his burden. As if, in some twisted way, his fate was tied to his. Everything Bruce had taught him, everything Nightwing had lived with Slade… those lessons and that history still resonated in his mind. He couldn’t fall into the same trap. He couldn’t be his cross.

The cycle had to be broken.

—Stop talking nonsense.— he murmured finally, his tone lower, more opaque, as if trying to drown out that inner voice urging him to keep going.

Nemo smiled faintly, as if he knew exactly what was going through Red Robin’s mind. As if, deep down, he relished the fact that, no matter how much the hero tried to convince himself otherwise, he would always end up coming back to him.

—Whatever you say, Red.—

And, in that moment, Red Robin knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never fully escape the shadow of Nemo.

Silence enveloped them again, but this time, it wasn’t just the echo of the rubble… it was the weight of a truth neither of them was ready to admit.

Red considered changing the subject, forgetting about it. He thought about all the ways he could shake off that uncomfortable moment, that persistent feeling that had begun to tickle his mind. He finally sighed, grabbed Nemo’s shoulders, and tried to move him to make room, but it was impossible. Everything was too tight.

—Nemo, for God’s sake, you just need to move over, you’re taking up all the space… I can’t be on top of you the whole time.—

Nemo let out a low laugh, almost like a purr of amusement, that kind of laugh only he could make, one that completely shifted the tone of the atmosphere.

—Oh, Red, I didn’t know this bothered you so much.— he murmured with that soft voice, laced with barely concealed amusement. —And here I thought you were comfortable.—

Red Robin gritted his teeth, ignoring the heat rising to his neck, feeling how discomfort took over every muscle in his body.

—Nemo, I warn you…—

—Are you going to arrest me for taking up too much space?— the villain joked, but finally moved a little, just enough to give Red Robin some maneuvering room.

Of course, he did so with exaggerated slowness, as if savoring every second of the other’s discomfort.

—Alright, alright… though I’ll admit, this had its charm.—

Red Robin rolled his eyes, feeling the frustration bubbling inside him as he finally managed to get comfortable, turning his back to Nemo. As if that would make things easier, as if simply not looking at him could help him distance himself from the tension that still lingered between them.

—Tell me you at least have a plan,— Nemo said, his usual tone but without the usual sharp mockery, as if, for once, he were showing slight concern.

Red Robin didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how to get out of this. There was no easy solution, and being trapped under rubble only complicated things.

Red Robin opened the communicator on his wrist and tried to find any nearby electromagnetic signal, but due to the collapse, there was none left. Frustrated, he looked around. Nothing.

Nemo, amused by the situation, got closer to his back, sliding his hand along the fabric of the cape, pulling it slightly. Red Robin turned his head slightly, gritting his teeth and frowning. What was he doing now? Was he playing with him again?

—What the hell are you doing?— Red Robin spat, barely turning his face to shoot him a hard look.

But Nemo just smiled, unhurried, enjoying the situation far too much.

—Relax, Red. I’m just killing time…— he murmured, giving the cape an extra tug, as if the texture fascinated him. —Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how durable this is.—

Red Robin took a deep breath, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine from the contact. It wasn’t so much the gesture itself, but how unnecessary it was.

—Let go. Now.—

—You have to admit, this is an… interesting situation.— Nemo continued, ignoring the warning. —How many times have we been like this? Trapped. Locked in. Together.—

Red Robin furrowed his brow even more.

—This is the first time we’ve been buried under rubble, if that’s what you’re referring to.—

—I’m not talking about the rubble, Red.—

That response made him clench his fists. Because he knew what Nemo was implying, he knew he wasn’t just talking about the collapse, but the cycle they’d been trapped in for so long. The endless cycle, where they found themselves caught, with moments of tension and provocations that always kept them together, even in a twisted way.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the weight in his chest.

—If you really want to do something useful, help me find a way out, instead of… this.—

—Oh, but Red…— Nemo leaned in a bit more, his breath brushing the back of the hero’s neck. —This is much more fun.—

Red Robin felt a sharper cramp run from his neck down his back. His body went stiff, and he didn’t let Nemo see the reaction, but the silence said more than words. Red Robin turned, almost exhausted from the situation, and grabbed Nemo by the hair, pulling him back forcefully.

—I’m warning you, Nemo, I’m not playing.— He said, gritting his teeth.

Nemo let out a stuttered gasp, more from surprise than pain. His smile curved slowly, as if the hair tug wasn’t a warning, but an encouragement to push further.

—Oh, Red…— he murmured, his voice rough from the position he was trapped in. —That’s what I like most about you.—

Red Robin stared at him with contained fury, his fingers still tangled in Nemo’s hair. He didn’t want to give him more room to play, didn’t want to fall into his rhythm, but everything about him was designed to provoke him.

—Don’t tempt me.— he warned, his voice lower, more gravelly.

But Nemo just laughed, leaning as much as he could with his head still trapped between Red Robin’s fingers.

—What if I do? Are you going to stop me? Or will you just keep… reacting?—

That last word was loaded with meaning. And the worst part was that he was right. Red Robin was reacting. He was responding, instead of ignoring him, instead of keeping a cool head. And that only gave Nemo more power.

With a frustrated grunt, Red Robin released him abruptly, pushing him slightly to create some distance. He moved as far as the limited space allowed, taking a deep breath to calm the tension in his body.

—You know, Red.— Nemo said lightly, massaging his scalp where he’d grabbed it. —If you keep touching me like that, it’s going to be hard for me to believe you don’t want to play.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Deep down, he hated how much Nemo enjoyed all of this. And what was worse… he hated how much he was starting to feel it too. The weight of the tension, that uncomfortable feeling, was growing, and he couldn’t deny it.

Red Robin tightened his gaze on Nemo, a fire inside him that only wanted to extinguish itself somehow. What the hell was he playing at now? With unrelenting seriousness, he responded.

—I don’t recommend you push it, Nemo, or I’ll add sexual harassment to your penitentiary report.—

Nemo blinked a couple of times, but it wasn’t long before his low, deep laugh filled the small space they were trapped in, like a distant echo that only heightened the discomfort of the situation.

—Well, Red…— he murmured with genuine amusement. —I didn’t know you had such a sharp sense of humor.—

Red Robin didn’t smile. His face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Nemo, as if trying to pierce him with it. He wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of any reaction beyond his warning. But Nemo, as always, enjoyed controlling the situation.

—You know what’s the best part?— he continued, with that playful smile that only heightened the tension. —That for that to have weight in my report, you’d have to admit you felt something.—

Red Robin narrowed his eyes, a mix of fury and exhaustion on his face.

—No. I just have to make note that you’re a damn nuisance.—

—Oh, Red, everyone already knows that. But what no one knows is how much this ‘nuisance’ affects you.—

Silence fell again between them, but this time Red Robin didn’t stay waiting for the next provocation. His voice became firm, almost like a mantra to calm himself.

—I’m getting us out of here.—

His tone was unwavering, as if trying to convince himself that this was the only thing that mattered. He ignored the laughter still vibrating in his ear, the persistent heat on his skin, and the discomfort of being so close to Nemo. He turned and began to search the rubble again, analyzing every crack, looking for an exit, any way to escape.

But he couldn’t avoid hearing the quiet whisper that came from behind him.

—Too bad… I could stay a little longer.—

Red Robin clenched his teeth tightly, feeling the frustration build in his chest.

—Typical… once we’re out of here, I plan to lock you up again.—

He said with a firm, annoyed tone as he groped every wall around, trying to find the weakest one.

Nemo, as usual, didn’t stop. His only mission at that moment was to provoke him. See how he’d react. And he liked what he saw.

He tilted his head, watching every movement Red Robin made with that sharp gleam in his eyes, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—Wow, Red…— he murmured with fake disappointment. —You say that like it’s the last time you’ll try.—

Red Robin ignored his tone, focusing on his task. But Nemo wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

—You know?— he continued, with a thoughtful air that only increased the tension. —Sometimes I wonder… what will you do when you actually succeed? When they finally lock me up in Arkham and I can’t get out.—

Red Robin kept feeling around the weakest wall, but his jaw tightened when he heard Nemo’s words.

—I’ll have one less thing to worry about in my life.—

Nemo leaned a bit, his voice sliding smoothly, so close to Red Robin that he could almost feel the warmth of his breath.

—Is that what you think?— he said with a twisted smile, brushing the limits of provocation. —Or will you feel like you’re missing something?—

Red Robin stopped for a second, just a brief flicker of doubt before he went back to work. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t want to acknowledge it. But the truth was, Nemo was right. Part of him knew there would always be something more, something that kept him trapped in this endless cycle.

Nemo smiled. And it wasn’t a kind smile. It was that twisted smile he knew Red Robin couldn’t ignore.

—Because, let’s be honest, Red… if I weren’t here, what would you do with all the time you spend on me?—

Red Robin slammed the rubble harder than necessary, his breath more ragged from frustration than physical effort, not daring to look at him. His body tense, charged with contained energy that only increased the tension in the air.

—Anyone would think you’re the obsessed one.—

Nemo let out a low, vibrating laugh, like an electric current running between them, his presence expanding. He leaned in even more, bringing his lips dangerously close to Red Robin’s ear, his warm breath brushing his skin with an invisible caress.

—Oh, but if I’m obsessed…— he whispered, his voice a dangerous melody, —what does that say about you?—

Red Robin closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the tension build in his chest. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, but the growing discomfort made him burn inside. He wasn’t going to fall into his game. Not this time.

With a huff, he used his strength to strike the wall he’d identified as the weakest, making some rubble give way with a loud crash.

—It says I’m getting out of here. With you or without you.—

Nemo smiled, that cold satisfaction on his face, as if he already knew what was going through Red Robin’s mind. Because deep down, he knew him too well. He knew that no matter how much Red Robin denied it… he would never leave him behind.

With an unexpected move, Nemo stretched out his handcuffed arms and pulled on Red Robin’s wrist, stopping him with a strength that surprised him. It wasn’t the moment to escape, not for Nemo. He wanted this agony to last longer, for Red Robin to feel trapped in his own helplessness.

In the blink of an eye, Nemo positioned himself over Red Robin, the weight of his body pinning the hero to the floor, while his handcuffed hands kept him immobilized. Red Robin, who hadn’t had time to react, found himself with his back on the ground, breathing heavily, not just from the physical effort, but from the surprise that the villain’s speed had generated.

—What the hell do you think you’re doing? —Red Robin spat, his voice cracking with fury, but also with an unease that filtered through his words.

Nemo grinned widely, enjoying the control, the power he had over Red Robin at that moment. He leaned in slightly, bringing his face close to the hero’s, making their lips dangerously near his ear.

—Just making sure you don’t ruin the fun too quickly.

Red Robin struggled, his body tensing, but the cramped space and the uncomfortable position of having Nemo on top of him kept him trapped, unable to move without shifting the debris around them.

—This isn’t a game, Nemo.

—Isn’t it? —the villain whispered, his gaze dripping with intensity, a dangerous spark ignited in his eyes—. Because to me, it seems like we’ve been playing the same one for years.

The tension between them grew until it became palpable, like a taut rope about to snap. Red Robin could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, the frantic rhythm of his breathing. Not just from the rage consuming him, but from something deeper, something he didn’t want to accept or allow.

With a swift movement, he used the minimal mobility he had left and twisted his body, reversing their positions. Now he had Nemo trapped beneath him, his hands firmly on the villain’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, his gaze fixed on Nemo’s eyes, burning with contained fury.

—If you keep testing my patience, you’ll see what happens when I really snap.

Nemo let out a chuckle, amused despite being trapped.

—Oh, Red… that’s exactly what I want to see.

Red Robin’s body tensed even more, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. To Nemo, everything was a game, a dirty game to destabilize him, to push him to his limit. And that irritated him. With silent fury, Red Robin grabbed Nemo’s face, his fingers squeezing the villain’s jaw with such force that he could barely move. He wanted him to look at him, to feel the weight of his warning.

—What exactly do you want to see, huh? Say it, Nemo, because this situation is just pissing me off more and more.

Nemo let out a sharp gasp, not from pain, but from the strength with which Red Robin held him. His irregular breathing, the darkening gleam in his eyes, turned into something more dangerous than just a provocation. There was something in his gaze that had nothing to do with their usual game.

—That. —His voice slid into a whisper, heavy with something indecipherable, a silent desire—. That.

Red Robin clenched his jaw tighter, his fingers still dug into Nemo’s skin. The tension amplified, the atmosphere thick, almost suffocating. He couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to pull away.

—Stop speaking in riddles and say it already.

Nemo narrowed his eyes, his smile crooked, like a bold provocation. He knew he was touching Red Robin’s weak point.

—I want to see you lose control.

The silence that followed was brutal. Heavy. Like a bomb about to explode.

Red Robin felt the rage burning in his throat, but the worst part was that it wasn’t just anger. There was something deeper, something he didn’t want to admit or unleash. Something that terrified him. Nemo knew. He saw it in every tense movement of his body, in every labored breath.

—It’s not going to happen —Red Robin growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Nemo smiled wider, as if that same frustrated growl was exactly what he had been waiting for.

—It’s already happening.

And the worst part was that, for the first time, Red Robin wasn’t so sure whether he wanted to stop it.

Red Robin fixed his gaze on Nemo’s, sliding his thumb over the villain’s lip, pressing lightly there while his other fingers remained dug into his face. His face remained impassive, but his body was tense, like a taut rope about to snap. He didn’t say anything, just watched him with that cold intensity that sometimes defined him, holding back, trying not to give in.

Nemo parted his lips, not out of discomfort, but because of the intensity of the touch. His gaze was fixed on Red Robin’s eyes, defiant, not looking away or retreating.

And then, slowly, calculated, he barely extended his tongue, shamelessly brushing against Red Robin’s thumb.

It wasn’t an accidental gesture. It was intentional. A silent challenge. A provocation loaded with something deeper than a simple taunt.

Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Not yet. His grip tightened a little more, his breath heavier, and his body restless, as if he wanted to take control of something slipping away from him.

Nemo smiled against his skin, with dark satisfaction, relishing the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through the hero’s body.

—Come on, Red… —he murmured, his voice rough, like a soft poison seeping into his mind—. Let go of control.

The tension between them reached an unbearable point. Like a rope on the verge of snapping. Like fire threatening to consume everything.

Red Robin softened his gaze, but he didn’t look away from Nemo. Despite the coldness in his eyes, his breathing was still erratic, out of control, as if he couldn’t contain the intensity of what he felt. He tried to remain calm, but there was something in Nemo’s touch, something in his gaze, that made him question whether he really wanted to end it all.

Nemo let out a broken sigh, his lips parting further around Red Robin’s thumb. His tongue slowly grazed the fabric of the glove, as if savoring the moment. As if enjoying the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through Red Robin’s body.

His gaze didn’t leave Red Robin’s. There was something dark and twistedly satisfied in those eyes, something that had nothing to do with the usual game. This time, it wasn’t just about irritating him. It wasn’t just about pushing him.

It was because he wanted to see him break.

Red Robin clenched his jaw. He knew he should pull away, let go, stop it before they crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. But his hand didn’t move. His breathing was still erratic, his eyes fixed on Nemo’s with an intensity that had nothing to do with anger.

It was something else.

Nemo smiled around his thumb, his tongue sliding over it with a slow, almost sensual touch, before releasing it with a soft pop.

—Well, Red… —he whispered, his voice rough and laden with poison—. I think I almost got you.

But Red Robin didn’t move. Not this time.

With relentless determination, he slid his hand from Nemo’s face to his neck, gripping it firmly, not with violence, but with a possessiveness that was all danger.

—Do you think this is a game? —he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous.

Nemo let out a laugh, though it sounded somewhat erratic, more real than he intended.

—You tell me, Red… —he leaned in a little closer, the challenge in his eyes setting the air on fire—. Who’s playing now?

Red Robin tightened his grip on Nemo’s neck, knowing exactly where to apply pressure. He wasn’t taking away his air, but he was stealing something far more crucial: control.

Nemo’s back arched under Red Robin’s weight, but there was no resistance. Only a broken laugh when the hero’s fingers returned to rest on his lips, this time with more intent, more force, as if he wanted to silence him forever.

Nemo didn’t hesitate to capture Red Robin’s fingers with his tongue, his gesture hot and wet, a shameless provocation, almost mocking. His eyes never left Red Robin’s, intense, dark, as if challenging every move and, at the same time, enjoying the submission he provoked without lifting a finger.

Red Robin felt a shiver run through his body, but he didn’t move his hand. Not this time. He kept his gaze fixed, his breath still heavy, and tightened his grip on Nemo’s jaw, feeling the warmth of his mouth around his fingers, as the villain’s tongue wrapped around them with a dangerous naturalness.

Nemo let out a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, as if the situation was beyond his control but, at the same time, completely under his will.

Who’s playing now?

The question hung between them, burning with force, but Red Robin had no intention of answering. He just tightened his grip, diving deeper into the game, showing Nemo that if this was going to be a challenge, he would play by his own rules.

The warmth of Nemo’s saliva on his fingers enveloped him, a tempting touch, a caress that made him lose some of his sanity. Every fiber of his being urged him to pull back, to take control of the situation, but his body responded to something more than logic.

The atmosphere between them grew thicker, charged with palpable tension, as if the space around them was compressing, pressing toward a point of no return. Red Robin felt his control begin to crumble, his composure slipping away with every provocative glance from Nemo, with every defiant touch he made in response.

Nemo knew exactly how to push Red Robin to the limit, how to destabilize him with every gesture, every glance.

—Come on, Red… —he whispered, his voice raspy, like an invitation, like a provocation—. Don’t hold back so much. What’s the worst that can happen?

Red Robin didn’t respond, but his breathing grew heavier, a conscious effort to remain in control, even though what he really wanted was to step away from that fine line between control and chaos. But he couldn’t. Something inside him kept him there, trapped in this game he couldn’t escape.

His thumb moved slowly over Nemo’s tongue, a subtle gesture, but one that made everything feel even more dangerous. Every part of him screamed to pull away, to stop, but deep inside, something held him there, something that kept him firmly in that moment, unable to take a step back.

The tension reached such an extreme point that any movement, any breath, seemed to have the power to bring everything crashing down.

Red Robin caught Nemo’s tongue, tightening his fingers with more force, and the sound that came from Nemo’s throat destabilized Robin even more than he already was. He brought his face closer to his, and with a defiant gesture, he pulled Nemo’s tongue from his mouth, licking it possessively as he tightened his grip on his neck, making it clear who was in charge at that moment.

Nemo’s muffled sigh echoed in the air, a sound that seemed to cut the tension between them, but at the same time, it intensified it in a dangerous way. Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine. The brush of their tongues was a dark and twisted act, a gesture charged with electricity and challenge, both verbal and physical. The pressure on Nemo’s neck wasn’t about the desire to dominate him, but something more primitive, visceral, that Red Robin didn’t want to acknowledge.

Nemo didn’t pull away. He didn’t retreat. On the contrary, he let out a low laugh, almost mocking, despite the pain he felt in both his tongue and his neck.

Red Robin couldn’t pull away. The intensity of the moment kept him there, feeling how the power struggle they shared was woven in a tense silence, filled with something much darker than what he was willing to face.

But he couldn’t let go.

The rational part of him fought against the visceral one, the one pushing him beyond his own limits, daring him to go further.

“Shut up, or I’ll make sure you don’t leave here in one piece.” His voice was rough, filled with rage, as if crossing that line was something he had been trying to avoid for far too long.

With Nemo’s neck still between his fingers, Robin leaned toward him again, their teeth clashing with fury as he devoured his mouth desperately, frustrated but also needing that primal contact.

The air between them grew thick, almost suffocating. Red Robin’s rage was like an overflowing torrent, and Nemo knew it. He could feel the tension in every muscle of his opponent, the restrained anger that was now spilling over, the real threat in his words. But that didn’t stop him.

When Red Robin moved closer, fury and desire fused in such a way that neither of them could stop it. Their teeth clashed again, and then, the brutality of their mouths joined in a wild kiss, like a storm that left nothing untouched. Nemo responded instantly, with the same energy, letting himself be carried away by the fury of the moment, without brakes, without reservations.

The friction of their bodies, the heat of their breaths, was all that remained between them. Red Robin’s fingers tightened around Nemo’s neck, while his other hand grasped him desperately, as if by touching him, he could free himself from the frustration that had built up over the years.

Nemo, for his part, didn’t seem to be trying to stop him. On the contrary, his hands rose, and along with his cuffs, they slid down Red Robin’s chest, pulling his body closer, as if he enjoyed that sensation, that ever-blurring line between violence and something more.

—This is what you want, isn’t it? —murmured Nemo between kisses, his voice low and defiant—. What you’ve been avoiding all this time?

Red Robin didn’t respond. His mind was clouded, his thoughts dissolving between rage, desire, and confusion. Every touch, every brush, pushed him further than he thought he could control. But there was no going back.

Nemo smiled, still caught in the kiss, as if chaos was completely on his side.

When Robin brought his finger back to Nemo’s mouth, seeking that contact once again, his mind was on the edge, crumbling between what he desired and what he knew he shouldn’t. But Nemo, as always, dragged him further than reason would allow. With the same provocation, with the same shameless acceptance, he received it, as if he had been waiting for that response.

Robin’s hand slid into his hair, gripping it tightly but with an unsettling softness, as if he enjoyed seeing Nemo in that state.

Red Robin’s voice came out hoarse, filled with everything that was happening.

—No, Nemo… —he whispered, his breath heavy, his words full of frustration, rage, and desire—. This is what you wanted.

Nemo smiled against the fabric of his glove, his eyes gleaming with dangerous satisfaction, as if everything was part of a plan only he understood. His tongue slid across it with a destructive calm.

The atmosphere, charged with dangerous electricity, seemed about to explode at any moment. They were both trapped in something they could no longer control, something they could no longer define.

With a voice almost choked and frustration between his teeth, Robin spoke:

—Would you?

Nemo looked up at him, puzzled. Robin pulled her finger out of her mouth brushing her lower lip and rubbing both their bodies together, looking to feel that friction. His body feeling that tension getting tighter and tighter in his body, about to give in to what was happening.With his voice cracking he asked again.

— Would you use your mouth?

The atmosphere was becoming even denser, charged with a desire that could not be undone, a tension that tightened the air around them. Red Robin's words floated in the space between them, almost like an invitation to chaos. The question was loaded, a direct challenge to everything they had both vowed to avoid.

Nemo, with his fierce gaze and a crooked smirk, watched Red Robin in silence, as if assessing not only his words, but every movement, every gesture on his body. His expression remained serene, but his eyes shone with the same spark as always, as if he had been waiting for that moment, that surrender, however momentary.

—That depends…— he murmured softly, almost as a whisper, savoring the power of every word, every reaction he got from Robin. The question had not only surprised him, but had also pushed him further into the game, beyond any limits they had both set for themselves.

Robin could feel the friction between their bodies increasing, what should have been a simple touch becoming something deeper, something that burned him inside. The helplessness of not being able to take complete control of the situation turned his stomach, but it kept him there, trapped. His body kept responding, his mind overflowing with every thought he didn't want to let grow.

Nemo, in an unexpected move, slid a hand down Robin's torso, stroking with deliberation, as if drawing a line that was not to be crossed, but still, inviting him to follow.

—If I did... what would you do, Robin? —he asked, almost with an innocent tone, but his eyes reflected something darker, something that didn't require an answer to understand.

Robin's heavy laughter mingled with their halting breaths, with the unbearable heat of that small space where there was no turning back now. His grip on Nemo's hair intensified, his voice husky and charged with something even he couldn't fully define.

Robin could feel that bold hand sliding down his back, pulling him further into his body.

— Keep your mouth busy.— Robin tugged lightly on Nemo's hair, showing him a bit of that intention he would have with him.

Nemo let Robin dominate him at that moment, his head tilted back by the force of his hand, his neck exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. His dark eyes watched him with a spark of dangerous satisfaction, as if he was enjoying having pushed Red Robin to that point of no return.

—Oh, Red…— she murmured in a breathy voice, a crooked smile curving her lips. If you think you can teach me a lesson, then I wish you luck.

The movement of their bodies was minimal, but the friction spoke volumes. Robin could feel the pressure on every part of him, the way Nemo's body molded to his, as if mocking his need for control.

—And if you're going to give me a job…— continued Nemo, his voice low, almost a whisper against his ear. You better be sure you can handle what you're asking.

Robin tightened his grip on Nemo's hair, drawing so close that there was barely any air left between them. His gaze was sharp, charged with fury and something darker, something he couldn't name.

—I can always handle it, Nemo.— he whispered fiercely. The question is whether you can.

Robin slid his face down Nemo's neck, breathing heavily against his skin, the atmosphere was unbearably thick, every touch, every movement, sinking them both deeper into something they couldn't even name. Robin breathed against Nemo's skin, soaking in his essence, letting desire, rage and need mingle in his mind until he didn't know which one dominated more. She thought of nothing else but biting him, leaving the mark that he had passed by. He was still holding her hair tightly leaving her neck exposed for him. Red made a firmer hip movement, to make it clear who was taking control of the situation. —Nemo… —He whispered her name in a loaded voice, against her neck, almost desperate to sink his teeth in there. —Are you going to be a good boy this time?

When he bit into her neck, he did it with the intention of leaving a mark, of making sure Nemo would feel that even after they were out of there. The tug on his hair only intensified the sensation, exposing him even more to her dominance.

The firm movement of her hips against Nemo's caused a sigh to escape Nemo's lips, but his attitude did not change. Despite being under Robin's control at that moment, she still maintained that defiant air, that way of looking at him that said she was enjoying it more than she should.

When Robin whispered her name against his neck, the tension peaked. The question hovered in the air between them, charged with anticipation.

Nemo smiled, that damned smile of his that never quite disappeared, even at times like that.

—A good boy? —He repeated in a low, dragging voice, letting the warmth of his breath collide against Robin's skin. — For you?

Robin felt Nemo move slightly under him, not to resist, but to challenge him even more. Her body arched just a little, pressing herself more against him, as if to gauge how far she could push him.

—I don't know, Red.— Nemo continued in his teasing tone. — It depends on how you convince me.

It was a challenge. One more provocation. As usual.

But this time, Robin was no longer in a position to ignore him.

Red Robin released his hair and put one of his hands under the man's jacket, starting to unbutton his shirt, something difficult at that moment when one had no patience to go from button to button, so he gave a tug breaking several of his buttons and then put his hand there and started to feel his skin. What started out as a game, one more provocation in their endless tug-of-war, had long since ceased to be. Robin felt his own barriers crumble with every touch, with every restrained gasp that escaped his throat without permission. Nemo had always known how to push him over the edge, but this time it wasn't just sharp words or challenges cloaked in smiles. This time it was real.

The sound of buttons popping under the force of his hand echoed in the cramped space, followed by the warmth of his palm exploring Nemo's bare skin, feeling the shudder of his breath, the slight shudder that ran through his body as his fingers slid over him. It was warm. Tempting.

Robin's lips found the exposed skin of his neck, devouring, biting, licking, sucking, leaving marks that he knew would not easily disappear. It was silent proof that he had been there, that, for once, Nemo was not in complete control. His mouth traveled to her ear, his hot breath crashing against it as he held back the rush of sensations that washed over him.

But Nemo, even in that situation, was not giving up so easily. His breathing was ragged, yes, but his sly smile still lingered, barely perceptible in the gloom.

—Wow, Red…— his voice sounded hoarse, cracked, but still tinged with that teasing tone that drove him crazy.— If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask.

Robin clenched his jaw, his hand sliding harder over her skin, his fingers digging in firmly as a warning.

—Shut up.

And this time, it wasn't an empty threat.

His arm around his hunched back, holding Nemo close to him, his other hand on his thigh, sliding dangerously making Nemo tremble and hold back less.

What began as a struggle had become darker, deeper, more inevitable. Robin was no longer thinking about the consequences, or what it meant outside that confined space. He just felt. And that feeling burned him, made him lose himself more in every movement, in every choked gasp he tore from Nemo's lips.

His tongue ran along the warm, exposed skin of his chest, leaving a wet trail before closing his teeth over the most sensitive spot, wrenching an involuntary shudder from him. Robin felt it in her arched back, in the way her body reacted to his every touch. Her grip intensified, her arm clutching him tighter, as if she wanted to make sure Nemo wouldn't escape this...that neither of them would.

Her other hand slid with calculated slowness, descending on his thigh, intent on teasing, on wrenching away the control he so loved to pretend he had. And when her fingers pressed there, firm, Nemo tensed beneath him, his body betraying him with a reaction that said more than any words.

They both lost control, crossed that line that, they knew, they would eventually regret. The man unbuckled Nemo's belt with freezing speed, with a defiant look on his face and a nasal laugh at seeing Nemo like that. He grabbed him by the handcuffs, yanked him down and placed him face down in the cramped space. Robin held the man's neck, lifting his face slightly as he tried to lift his hips to help him pull down his pants with the same energy and desperation to calm the heat that overflowed from every part of both their bodies. With his teeth Robin undid his glove, slid his hand slowly over his underwear,feeling every crease, every throbbing in the area. He dared to whisper close to her ear.

— Nemo... Now no one is going to come and save you.

Nemo felt a shiver run down his back, yet in response he let out a weak laugh at the grip on his neck, soon his whole body trembled, preventing him from continuing with that defiant tone. Robin was slipping a hand under the fabric, little by little.

Nemo wanted to turn around, he needed to see it, but as soon as Red realized his intention, he pressed his neck again and landed on his body to prevent him from doing so.

— If we are going to do this, it will be under my conditions, Nemo... I don't want to hear you, I don't want to see you, I don't even want to feel your breathing.— replied the man in response to his attempts. Robin, between his fingers, grabbed Nemo's fabric and pulled it down, leaving his skin exposed. After exerting a final pressure on his neck as a warning, Robin hurried to position herself on top of him, blocking him with the weight of her legs. With almost shattering patience, Red unbuckled his tool belt watching the scene of Nemo beneath him, his hands cuffed and his breathing slightly labored. Nemo despite the situation just kept silent, something quite rare for the man, letting his opposite control the situation.

Nemo leaning on his forearms dipped his head down, letting his hair fall over his face, enjoying Robin's presence above him, reveling in the sound of the belt opening and setting it aside, away from the scene. The man sketched one last smile until he felt Robin drop a warm trickle of saliva over a sensitive area. Nemo tensed slightly, expectant of his next move. Robin's fingers moved over that area, letting the saliva take center stage, wrapped an arm around his torso and pressed against his back. Robin massaged there with clear intent, until she felt that one area was not as usual as it should be. A sly smile crept across the man's face, leaning slightly toward his ear.

Nemo let out a stifled sigh, as he gave a half-smile at the sensation of the fingers in that area.

—Yes... you can choose... isn't it wonderful?— he said with a hint of sarcasm and amusement.

Robin narrowed his eyes, observing Nemo's defiant attitude, which never seemed to budge even in this situation. Robin with his sturdy hand grabbed Nemo's head and forced downward, leaving his face on the floor, his cheek rubbing intensely there. His two fingers pushed into his main entrance, giving him no respite to react to anything, and as he did so, his fingertips searched for that rough part inside, a slightly more swollen one, one that he knew if he found it would not give him respite a second longer. Robin massaged there with just enough force and the tranquility of doing a job he seemed to know perfectly well, his fingertips downward as he felt Nemo's legs tense and tremble slightly with each touch he made to the area.

He knew he was rubbing the right area, because Nemo didn't respond, just breathing heavily as his hands clutched the ground lifting his hips slightly, seeking more of that contact. Red released his head, amused, this time his hand came to rest on Nemo's lower back and pushed down, causing the area to tighten further, still with his fingers inside. That only caused the man to let out a groan as he felt the intensity with which his insides were being squeezed. Red let out a heavy sigh after that, one that let it show how desperate he felt to use that area. He withdrew his fingers from there, impregnating his entrance with the residual essence.

Nemo was breathing agitated, wanting more of that contact and her touches. Robin took it upon herself to let him know that this moment wasn't going to take much longer, firmly something other than her fingers moved in, sliding into the area almost as a bodily reflex. Instantly, as if Robin already knew Nemo's body, he found a way to break through, entering with a sudden lunge. Nemo's body jumped, startled by the sensation and his strength. Robin on top of Nemo's body, his hands holding his waist so he wouldn't escape from him, he didn't decide to move yet, he wanted to feel how this enveloped him, how he clenched at his touch and how warm he was in there. Robin sighed in pleasure, as he tried to push himself in further, to feel how he could envelop him all the way. Nemo trembled as his hips jerked forward from the inertia, but Robin wouldn't let him escape, his body following him and clinging to him by squeezing his waist and pulling him in.

—Where are you going…— Robin said in a voice heavy and almost hoarse with pleasure. —We've just started…— After that he began to move slowly, letting every fold rub against him. Nemo stifled his moans as his forearms clung to the floor.

Robin soon lifted Nemo's hips, positioned himself in an easier position to pick up the pace and continued to lunge against his body as he panted on his back slightly bent towards him. The contact of their two skins felt like a burning fire that wouldn't cease, it only fanned more and more. Robin needed much more than that, he felt his as body tensed with each thrust, as Nemo shuddered with each movement and shrank beneath him.

—Very good... very good… — Red said without any control over what was coming out of his mouth, moving him with more inertia, raising the intensity of his breaths.

Nemo let out a whimper, a breathy one, as if he was restraining himself from raising his voice too much, or perhaps from showing how much he was enjoying the situation. Robin looked up weakly, consumed by the pleasure of each movement, watching Nemo hidden in his arms, between choked moans and shudders. The boy's back strained in front of him and his hips lifted with each intense contact.

Red enjoyed that view, but it was not enough, he wanted to see Nemo devastated, destroyed.

—Come on Nemo... you can do better,— he said with a mocking tone, grabbing him by the arm to slightly reposition his back. Nemo let out a gasp at the contact, he let himself be done with a heavy head, he felt he couldn't think clearly at that moment.

Robin gave a slightly mischievous grin at the sight of him like that, deciding to turn him over, lay him on his back and finish what he had started. With some difficulty, because of the confined space, he managed to turn him violently, positioned himself on top of him again and soon plunged back inside him, continuing with the same intensity as before. Nemo only spread his legs wider for him, causing Robin to lift his hips with both hands over that area.

He reflexively grabbed his hair in pleasure, his legs spread wide for Robin as he moved greedily and impatiently over Nemo. Robin had no qualms about watching the scene, while Nemo dodged his gaze, something that unnerved his opponent. He soon grabbed her face firmly to expose it to his eyes.

—What's the matter, are you embarrassed now?—

Robin didn't let go of his face, but rather exerted more pressure there, letting Nemo's tense eyes hold his gaze. Soon those eyes relaxed, narrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened slightly to release noises.

—R-Robin…— A breathy voice came from his wet lips, a spark that fanned the man's sensation against his body. He opened his eyes a little wider, as if he didn't want to miss any of it, expectantly. Nemo tensed a lot more, more cramping through his body. That's when one of Nemo's hands landed on Red's forearm, digging his fingers into the skin. Nemo jumped with each lunge, as if his body wanted to escape that inevitable end. As his eyes were lost in the nothingness, for a second he stopped letting out noises through his mouth. Robin didn't stop, she rammed him with the urgency to reach him, to do it at the same time as him, she knew that Nemo was melting between her hands and she couldn't stay behind, she didn't want to.

—Are you going to cum? Are you going to cum just because I'm doing this to you?— Robin said with a hint of defiance and provocation, even though he was about to get it too. — Afh... Nemo... where do you want me to do it...? — Nemo couldn't answer, his mouth opened wider as his spine arched back up again, but this time louder, more breathy. —Nemo... Nemo…— Robin said in a thicker, tighter voice. — I'm going to do it inside... I'm going to… — Nemo's eyes widened, his body arched instinctively, shaken by a wave of ecstasy that flashed across his skin like lightning. A pleasurable shudder took hold of his hips, ascending in electrifying spirals up his spine, leaving him breathless. Robin at the sight of it let out a moan of pleasure, almost frustrated, exasperated and vulnerable, he couldn't take any more than that, Red followed it by giving his body one last jolt, feeling his body react instinctively to the pleasure, teetering dangerously on the edge of that precipice, where desire and surrender intertwined in a single unbridled heartbeat.

Red Robin collapsed onto Nemo, his body still trembling from the intensity of that explosion of sensations. The air was thick, loaded with everything that had just happened between them. Robin could still feel the residual spasms running through his body, his chest rising and falling with difficulty as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead rested against Nemo’s shoulder, feeling the accelerated heartbeat beneath him, that pulse mirroring exactly how he felt himself.

For a moment, there was only silence. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. As if saying something would break the fragile balance they were in now. As if admitting what they had just done would make it real, irreversible.

Robin closed his eyes for a moment, his mind dazed by the wave of sensations and thoughts swirling in his head. He couldn’t afford to think too much about it. Not now.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he placed one hand on the ground to sit up slightly, but without fully pulling away. His eyes met Nemo’s, who was looking at him with that same mixture of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else… something Robin wasn’t sure he wanted to decipher at that moment.

He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Only one certainty remained, deep and dangerous: what had happened between them wouldn’t stay buried beneath those ruins.

Robin swallowed hard when he saw Nemo, when he felt that gaze upon him. He sighed and averted his eyes slightly as he raised a hand to his head, stroking it almost as if rewarding him for behaving… well?

Robin swallowed again when he saw Nemo, trapped in the intensity of that fixed gaze on him. A sigh escaped his lips as he barely looked away, as if he needed a break from everything that moment implied. Without thinking too much, he placed a hand on Nemo’s head, caressing it with unexpected gentleness, almost as if rewarding him for having… behaved well?

—Not bad, Nemo… Now stay like that, calm and… quiet.— Robin’s voice sounded rough, accompanied by an uncomfortable cough, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle what had just occurred.

Nemo raised an eyebrow, still recovering, his body lightly vibrating with the echoes of pleasure. He propped himself up with his arms on the ground and leaned toward Robin, letting out a low, breathless laugh. His smile, crooked and provocative as always, hid something else in his eyes… something softer. Exhaustion? Satisfaction? Maybe both. But there he was again, the same old Nemo, mocking, defiant, as if nothing could truly break him.

—Well, Red… If I had known that’s how you reward good behavior, maybe I would have behaved better from the start.

Robin clenched his jaw, his gaze avoiding Nemo, but his hands still remained on him, though now without applying pressure. His skin burned under his touch, as if the mere closeness was a constant reminder of what they had just done. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t even know how to process it. His mind was in absolute chaos, a whirlwind of contradictory impulses. His whole body screamed that this had been a mistake, an unforgivable one. But his fingers, unable to pull away, told a different story.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and dense, until Robin, with his face still flushed, gathered enough willpower to regain some control.

—Don’t get confused, Nemo. This changes nothing.

The words were firm, spoken with the harshness of someone clinging to a certainty that might not even exist. But his voice… his voice betrayed something deeper, something he didn’t even want to admit. Nemo softened that mocking smile.

After a few seconds of silence where Nemo simply didn’t add anything more, Robin narrowed his eyes and, without leaning too far away, bent over him, coming only a few centimeters from his face. His breath was still uneven, but his tone was lower when he asked:

—Are you okay?

It was a simple, almost mundane question, but at that moment it weighed more than Robin wanted to admit.

Nemo stayed still, as if the question had caught him by surprise. His breath was still irregular, his gaze met Robin’s, and in it was that same defiant spark as always, but also something else… something Robin couldn’t decipher.

—I never thought you’d say something like that…— he murmured, his crooked smile barely visible, as if irony and exhaustion were mixing in his tone. —But… yeah, I guess I’m fine.— Despite everything they had just done, his expression was calm, as if in that moment he found a strange kind of peace, a balance within the chaos.

—And you?— he asked, his tone barely a whisper. —You’re still doing what you always do… playing the hero, but with something else, right?

The smile on his lips was subtle, but his words hinted that something had changed. Even though neither of them wanted to admit it.

Robin held his gaze more firmly, his body still tense. He knew what Nemo was trying to do. He knew that every word could be a hook, a trap woven with his usual game. And although they had crossed a line they should never have crossed, he couldn’t afford to fall further.

—I’m not playing, Nemo.— he declared, his voice rough but determined.

Finally, Robin sighed, trying to impose himself over his own thoughts. He leaned down and began pulling up Nemo’s pants, his movements awkward but firm.

—Come on… no one can see us like this. I’ll help you.

His tone sounded more like an order than an offer, but he couldn’t help it. Nemo was still handcuffed, still beneath him, and the image they were projecting wasn’t something Robin could process for much longer without losing the little self-control he had left.

Nemo watched him in silence, his expression hard to read. There was no mockery, no immediate provocations, just an unusual stillness. He stayed still as Robin pulled up his clothes, and although his nature had never been to stay quiet, in that moment he seemed to have no need to speak.

But when Robin finished, when his hands were still resting on him, Nemo let out something unexpected.

—Thanks… for helping me.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. There were no double meanings in his voice. Just honesty. Raw, direct, unembellished.

Robin looked up, surprised by the genuine tone in Nemo’s words. It was the first time he had heard a “thank you” from his mouth without sarcasm. And though his face remained serious, something in his gaze faltered.

Without knowing why, without thinking too much, his hand slid to Nemo’s hair, brushing it gently away from his face. It was a brief gesture, almost insignificant, but enough for him to lean slightly over him and brush the corner of his lips with a kiss.

There was no urgency or desperation in that contact. It was barely a touch, a gesture too soft for what they usually were. But its simplicity made it more dangerous than anything else.

Nemo stayed still. His gaze, fixed on Robin, reflected genuine surprise. He didn’t respond immediately. He just watched him, not knowing how to react to something that didn’t fit the dynamic they had always shared.

That kiss wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t a misjudgment driven by the heat of the moment. It was something more. And that threw him off completely.

His breath slowed, his body, for the first time in a long time, didn’t react with the intention to regain control of the situation.

—What are you doing, Robin?— he asked, his voice quieter than usual. There were no games. Just a real question, unembellished, without pretense.

Robin seemed to snap out of it suddenly. He pulled away just a few inches, breaking the contact, his expression hardening again.

—I… thought I…— he murmured, pulling away as much as he could from Nemo and diverting his gaze. His own breath was erratic as he hurried to fasten his uniform, trying to regain his composure.

Nemo watched him in silence, his gaze darkened by something Robin couldn’t identify. But instead of taking advantage of the moment, instead of pushing beyond what they had already done, he simply let it go.

He stayed still, letting Robin pull away, though inside, something twisted with discomfort.

—You thought that…— he repeated Robin’s words with a bitter smile, his gaze following him intently. He didn’t add anything more. Didn’t ask, didn’t pressure. But the doubt was there, hanging between them like a ghost that was impossible to ignore.

Silence fell again, heavier than before. Robin ran a hand through his hair, his expression filled with conflict.

This had all been his fault. He had crossed the line. He had given in.

—This has all been a mistake…— he murmured harshly. —None of what happened… it can’t leave here, understood?—

Nemo looked at him without flinching. His eyes no longer held the defiant sparkle from before, but they didn’t show submission either. They just studied him, as if trying to decipher something even Robin didn’t understand.

—What happened, happened.— he finally said, his tone calmer than expected. —I don’t need you to tell me what I can or can’t do, Robin. You know I’m not someone who gets intimidated by empty threats.

His voice didn’t sound challenging, just simply confident.

And in that moment, Robin understood that, even if he tried to erase what had happened, even if he tried to convince both of them that it had been a mistake, nothing he did could change the fact that something had shifted between them. Something that couldn’t be undone.

Nemo moved just slightly, with a calculated slowness, as if every movement could make something inside him break. His breathing was deep, measured, but in his eyes, there was a flash of something else, something he was trying to hide behind his apparent calm.

—But… don’t worry. I’m not one to spill secrets. If you decide to forget this, I will too. In the end, it’s just another thing between us.

His voice sounded different this time, stripped of his usual mocking or provocative tone. It wasn’t a challenge, nor an empty farewell, but a resignation seeping through the cracks of his mask. However, Robin felt how those words pierced him, more than he would have wanted to admit.

—Another thing between us…?— he repeated in a whisper, furrowing his brow with a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something that hurt more than it should.

His jaw clenched, his chest filled with a weight hard to ignore.

—And what am I supposed to do with that?— His voice trembled slightly, barely perceptible, but enough to betray his internal conflict. His eyes burned with contained emotion as he looked at Nemo. —Do you think there’s anything more than just power and control between us? Nemo… look at yourself, this isn’t something that has to do with the two of us. This is your thing.

The venom in his words didn’t go unnoticed, but Robin wasn’t sure if he was trying to hurt Nemo or if he was trying to convince himself he was right.

Nemo slowly lifted his gaze, locking it on Robin with an intensity that took his breath away. His expression was serene, but in his eyes, there was something fierce, something burning.

—Is that what you think?— his voice was barely a whisper, but each word carried the weight of something bigger. A challenge, yes, but also a truth Robin didn’t want to face.

He leaned in slightly, not aggressively, just with that presence that always seemed to envelop him like a storm.

—If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But don’t make me carry something I’m not the only one who dragged here.

Robin felt his chest tighten. His fists clenched by his sides.

—You’re not so innocent in this, and you know it,.— Nemo continued, his voice growing lower, more intimate. —Not everything is power and control, Robin. There are more layers, more motives. But if you want to keep playing the blame game for everything that happens, go ahead. I… I’m used to it.—

The confession hung in the air, hitting a corner of Robin that he himself was trying to ignore. His lips parted, but no words came out.

Finally, after a silence that felt eternal, he shut his eyes tightly, as if he needed to contain the storm inside him.

—You’re right… I’m sorry, I didn’t…— He sighed, his voice barely a thread, full of something he didn’t even completely understand. He still kept his distance, though every cell in his body screamed for something else.

Nemo stared at him, as if analyzing every inch of his expression. Something in his features changed subtly, as if he hadn’t expected this surrender from Robin.

—It’s fine.— he murmured with an unusual calmness. —We’re not saints, Robin. You and I… we’ve always been a disaster waiting to happen.

His words felt like a blow, but there was no anger in them. Just the raw, naked truth of what they were.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was dense, laden with meanings neither dared put into words. Nemo ran his tongue over his lower lip, thoughtful, before throwing the final jab.

—If you want to forget it so much… then do it.

There was no challenge in his voice, no resentment. Just acceptance.

—But don’t pretend it never happened.

Robin swallowed hard. Something inside him broke, but he wasn’t sure what.

—No, it’s not that, Nemo… it’s just that… it’s complicated…

Unaware, he leaned in slightly, his hand finding Nemo’s shoulder in an instinctive gesture.

—It’s fine, let’s leave it at that. No need to keep going in circles. That will just confuse us more.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, not mocking, but with a hint of resignation.

—Confuse us more?— he repeated, savoring the words with a faint ironic expression.

He leaned in slightly toward Robin, with the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes spoke of something deeper.

—Robin… we’ve been playing a game neither of us fully understands for years. The confusion started a long time ago.

He let the phrase settle in the air, giving Robin enough time to process it.

After a few seconds, he sighed and looked away, giving him the space he seemed to need.

—But it’s fine.— he said with unsettling calmness. —If you want to leave it like this, we leave it like this.

He paused, his voice dropping even further, becoming barely a whisper.

—I just hope you’re ready for what comes next.

Because, whether they knew it or not, this wasn’t over. It never was.

—What comes next? What do you mean?— Robin’s voice was a thread of uncertainty, but his hand remained firmly on his shoulder. He didn’t want to pull it away. He couldn’t. As if that contact were an anchor, a last attempt to hold onto something that was inevitably slipping away.

Nemo gave a faint, crooked smile, as if he knew a secret Robin hadn’t discovered yet. He didn’t move, letting the other’s hand remain there, letting the warmth seep through his skin.

—What comes next…— he whispered, and his voice sounded like a warning, like an echo of something that had already happened too many times. He turned his face just slightly, enough for his eyes to lock with Robin’s, making the tension between them unbearable.

—That moment when you convince yourself this meant nothing. That it was just a mistake. And then, when you see me again, when we’re on opposite sides of the city and you trap me again…

He leaned in. Just a little. Enough for the distance between them to shrink to a breath, to a decision neither of them had fully made.

—You’re going to remember what happened here.— His voice dropped to a murmur, filled with venom and certainty. —And you’re going to hate yourself for it.

Nemo tilted his head, savoring the weight of his own words, the impact they had on Robin.

—And I’ll be there to remind you.

Because that was the real game between them, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how many times they tried to shut doors, pretend they had never crossed lines. They always returned to the same point. They always found themselves tangled in a web of broken promises and glances that said more than they should.

Robin tightened his grip on his shoulder, his fingers digging deeper into his skin as if he wanted to anchor him to reality, as if he could stop him from slipping through his fingers. His gaze, intense under the mask, burned with something he didn’t even know how to name.

It hurt. Because Nemo was right. Because this would never end. Because every time it would get worse. Because this burden would weigh more than anything else.

—That won’t happen.— His voice came out rough, broken by the contained emotion. —I’ll get you into Arkham. You’ll serve your sentences… and you’ll rehabilitate. And when all of that passes… I’ll have been there. And I’ll still be there.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, but not mocking. It was a bitter, worn sound. As if he had heard those words before. As if Red Robin’s promises were as predictable as gravity.

—Rehabilitate me?— He repeated with disbelief, no usual mockery, no typical challenge. His eyes narrowed, observing him, analyzing him with an almost painful intensity. —And what if I don’t want to be saved, Red?

He leaned in a little further, his breath grazing Robin’s mask.

—What if I prefer you keep trapping me, over and over again?

His voice became an intimate whisper, a thread of electricity between them, something only Robin could hear. Something that made the entire world disappear.

—Because if you take this from me… if you take your presence from me… what’s left?

There was no arrogance in his gaze. No mockery. Just something raw and exposed. Something that, if Robin dared to see it, would change everything.

Robin fell silent… surprised, yes, but more than anything, broken.

—Nemo…— He swallowed hard, feeling his own voice tremble. —I can’t play this game all my life… not like this.

And then he did it. He hugged him.

It was instinctive, desperate, something his body did before his mind could analyze it. He wrapped his arms around him, with all his warmth, with everything he was.

“I don’t want you to keep running.” He whispered against his hair, holding him against his chest, enveloping him in something Nemo didn’t remember ever feeling. “And I’m not leaving your side. I’m not lying when I say I’ll be here.”

Nemo froze, his body refusing to accept what was happening. Because this wasn’t part of the game. This was real. Something dangerous.

His breathing became erratic, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have a quick response, a ready mockery, an easy way out.

Robin was serious.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his neck, feeling the vibration of his breath, the quickened heartbeat under his skin. He didn’t try to pull away. He didn’t try to escape.

—…Don’t play with this, Robin.— His voice was a muffled whisper. —If you give me something real… I won’t be able to let it go.

Because Nemo could run from everything. From Arkham, from the police, from his own allies if necessary. But if Robin gave him a reason to stay… Maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t run.

Robin buried his face in his hair, memorizing his scent, feeling the softness of his strands between his fingers. He held him tighter, as if fearing he would vanish into the air.

—Please… don’t let go. Stay. Don’t run anymore. Not from me, not from yourself.

His thumb brushed his cheek with a tenderness impossible to ignore.

Nemo fell silent, trapped in that moment, in those words that shackled him in a way no shackle had ever done before.

It wasn’t Robin’s hold that kept him there. It wasn’t the cuffs, nor the rubble.

It was the way he spoke to him.

It was the way he touched him.

It was the way he looked at him, as if there was still something in him worth saving.

—…I don’t know how to do that.— His confession was barely a whisper. It wasn’t an excuse. It wasn’t manipulation.

It was the purest truth he had to give.

Robin pulled back just enough to look at him closely.

—You don’t have to do it alone.— His words were a promise, one he had been trying to keep for too long. —We’ll do it together.

Nemo looked at him, his expression a storm of emotions.

He had always known Robin was stubborn. But he never thought he’d go this far. He never thought someone like him would make a promise like that.

—You’re an idiot.— He whispered. There was no mockery in his voice, just exhaustion. And a small, tiny part of him that wanted to believe.

Robin smiled softly. —Please… give up.— His voice was low, almost pleading. —Let me help you.—

Nemo closed his eyes, his forehead still against Robin’s. He felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, his unwavering conviction.

He tightened his hold, gripping the other man’s uniform as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

He took a deep breath.

And finally, he surrendered.

#oc x tim drake #tim drake x oc #nemo arkham #tim drake robin #tim drake wayne #tim drake #dc ocs #dc oc rp #oc art #robin #dc robin #robin tim drake #fanfic #dc fanfic #transmasc #transgender #trans pride

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firstofficerwiggles · 1 year ago

Text

A Beskar Valentine

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Just lots of fluff with a little kissing. Also Din being a bit clueless when it comes to romance.

Author’s note: Happy Valentine’s Day, my darlings! I thought you’d all enjoy some fluffy Valentine’s day fun with Din. Whether you love this day or despise it, just know that Din adores you!

“I brought you a new rock.”

You turn around from the shelf you were just reorganizing to see your favorite customer, Nevarro’s favorite Mandalorian, Din Djarin. You’re about to thank him, when a loud coo breaks in.

“We brought you a new rock,” Din corrects himself, as his little green baby wants you to know that he was also part of the mission. Not that you think finding a pretty rock for you was the mission, but it’s so nice that Din thinks about you when he’s away.

“Thank you so much, to both of you,” you reply with a smile and a pat on the head for little Grogu, “I’m excited to add it to my collection.”

Din has been bringing you rocks from his travels for a few years now. It started when he was a bounty hunter. Whenever he was on Nevarro, he would stop by your shop, a sort-of general store, and buy different supplies. You didn’t think he’d ever taken much notice of you, he barely even spoke to you, but one day after you gave him his bundle of goods, he placed a shiny red stone in your hand.

“I found this on Mustafar, bounty fell right next to it, I thought you’d like another one for your shelf,” he had told you as he pointed to the display shelf next to the desk where your register was located.

There was a small pink rock there, one that you’d found on a walk one day. You’d placed it there because it was pretty. Rather bemused, you placed the new red rock next to the pink one.

“Thank you very much,” you replied, smiling at the mysterious helmeted man.

He simply nodded and ever since then, he’d shown up from time to time with a new and interesting rock for you. You like to say he’s your friend, even if most of your encounters have just been right here in the shop. There were a few times he asked you to go on a walk with him, which you gladly did. You had hoped those walks might turn into something more, but it seems it wasn’t in the stars. Instead Din has been rather occupied with saving his son as well as the rest of the galaxy from evil, or at least that’s how you like to think of it.

You look at the new rock he’s placed in your hands; it’s very shiny, a bright grey, almost silver and shaped like a heart.

“It’s beautiful, Din, I love it,” you tell him, your voice soft.

You look at your rock shelf, adorned with all the tokens he’s gifted you. You practically melt, out of all the pretty stones he’s brought you, this new one looks the most romantic. You try not to think too much into it, but still, your own heart likes to hope.

“I thought it looked a bit like beskar,” he comments in a thoughtful voice. He tips his helmet at you in what you’ve determined is his ‘thinking expression’.

“It does, a beskar heart, it’s perfect for you,” you reply, finding a special place for it on the shelf, right in the middle where it stands out.

“I thought you’d like it,” he states, “It came from Mandalore.”

“That’s incredible,” you say, touching the rock again, “I heard there was quite a battle there. I’m glad you’re alright, you and the little one. I have to admit I was worried for you when you left last time.”

Not to be too dramatic, but you thought you might never see him again. You figured the fighting would be fierce after seeing the way the Mandalorians fought off the pirates on Navarro. And although you had faith in Din as a fighter, you sort of figured he’d make Mandalore his home.

“You’re sweet to be worried about me,” Din says, “But as you can see, we’re back home no worse for the wear.”

“Home?” you can’t hide the note of hope in your voice.

“Yes, Magistrate Karga granted me a nice track of land, and we have a home there now,” he explains proudly, “I’d like to invite you to come see it, maybe the day after tomorrow?” He suggests. You can’t be sure but he almost sounds a touch nervous as he asks.

“I’d love to come see your new home,” you respond eagerly.

“Good, we’ll pick you up in the speeder at 5 in the evening,” Din says, knowing exactly when you usually close up the shop.

With reassurances that you’ll see them soon, you wrap up a few treats for Grogu and Din to enjoy at home and you wave to them as they head off.

“I think she really liked the rock, buddy,” Din says to Grogu as they walk home. “And soon she’ll get to see the nice home we’ve made. I really hope she likes it.”

Din has planned his entire home with exactly two people in mind, his magical son, Grogu and you, his sweetheart. He’s been courting you for years now, and it’s about time he made you an official offer of marriage. He’s wanted to ask you to be his riduur for a while, but the timing was always off. But now, he has a home and a new job with the Republic, he knows he can be a good and supportive husband to you.

Grogu is babbling at him, he points towards the front yard of the home as they arrive.

“Yes, buddy, I’m sure she’ll enjoy playing with you and seeing your frog pond too,” Din tells him. He notices that Grogu has already managed to open the package of treats you gave them.

Din laughs, “She knows your favorite foods already, I’d say if either of us has the luck to charm her, you’re our best bet.”

Din spends the next day putting all the finishing touches on the house. He wants it all to look its absolute best for your visit. Grogu has been helping too. He’s drawn several pictures that are now hanging up all around the walls. There might be a couple that were drawn directly on the wall, but Grogu was so proud of them that Din didn’t have the heart to scold him. Instead he dropped a kiss on Grogu’s head and told him,

“You’re quite the artist, son.”

At 5 on the dot, Din’s speeder pulls up to your door. Grogu is strapped into a baby seat in the backseat, waving at you merrily. Din hops out so that he can help you in, and you’re impressed once again by how much of a gentleman he always is.

“What’s all this?” he asks as he sees your arms filled with packages.

“Oh a few housewarming gifts,” you say with a smile, “And a present for the baby.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Din replies, sincerely.

The drive to his land is brief and Din points out various landmarks and sights on the way. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was trying to impress you. When you pull up in front of his house, the sun is just starting to set, turning his home a lovely golden color. You could not have a better introduction to the place. It looks cozy and welcoming, exactly the type of house you wish you could have instead of the cramped apartment above your shop.

“Oh Din, it’s charming,” you breath out your praise in a happy sigh.

“I’m pleased you think so,” Din responds, his voice a bit gruffer than usual. He clears his throat, “Let me show you around.”

With a hand at the small of your back, Din guides you around his new house. Grogu toddles ahead pointing out different things and sometimes floating them towards you with a wave of his hand. You know he has powers, but seeing them in action makes you gasp a few times.

“Everything looks so nice, you’ve both made a lovely home,” you tell them as you walk through the rooms.

Din insists on showing you every little thing about the house, asking your opinion and seeming genuinely interested in hearing it.

“And now it’s time for my favorite part, the backyard,” Din says with a small flourish as he throws the back door open and reveals a nice garden that has recently been planted. There are a few hearty flowering plants and a little vegetable and herb garden too. There is also a small stone path leading to the middle where there is a pretty mosaic of different colored rocks with several red colored stones making a heart. There are a couple lounge chairs there too, making it a nice place to sit and enjoy the fresh air.

Grogu tugs at your leg, urging you forward to see all the pretty rocks.

“Patu!” he says, sounding proud and happy, at least from your perspective.

“It’s lovely, Grogu, very pretty,” you reply encouragingly and the baby babbles more at you.

“He and I want to know if you like your rock garden? We both worked on it together,” Din tells you.

“What? My rock garden? You- you made this for me?” You are utterly stunned to hear this.

“Yes, we both wanted a special place for you,” Din replies. You can’t see his face of course but you could swear he must be smiling.

“Why? I don’t understand,” you tell him looking perplexed. You can’t fathom why he would make something like this for you at his house.

“Well, you’re my sweetheart, and I know I haven’t made you a formal offer, but after about four years of courting, I’m hoping that someday soon this will be your house too,” Din sounds sweet and hopeful.

You stare at Din with your mouth opened in pure shock. You don’t have any idea how to respond to that. Your mind is reeling. The word sweetheart keeps repeating in your head on a loop. You blink at him and finally manage to respond,

“I’m sorry, you- you’re courting me? Din, maybe you could have told me you were courting me?” Your voice comes out sounding high-pitched and quite incredulous.

Din makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like “oops.”

You keep going, your shock making you babble,

“Don’t get me wrong, Din, I’m thrilled that you think of me as your sweetheart and it makes me swoon that all this time you’ve thought of me like that, I’ve always liked you so much and hoped we could be more someday, but I never realized, I just didn’t know.”

Din steps close to you, his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. The gesture calms you down and you stare into the dark T of his visor, hoping you’re looking into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I thought it was obvious, that’s why I was always bringing you the rocks and making sure to come see you,” he sounds a bit sheepish, “I’m not the best at romance and I guess I should have made it a lot clearer.”

You let out a soft sigh, “It would have been nice to know my feelings weren’t one-sided all this time.” You tilt your head and look at him with a slightly exasperated smile.

“But you do have feelings for me,” Din points out, sounding a touch smug.

“I do, you handsome, infuriating man,” you reply with a laugh.

“And I have feelings for you, romantic, affectionate feelings,” he clarifies unnecessarily at this point. He pulls you closer, dipping his head so that the crown of his helmet touches your forehead.

“What am I going to do with you, Din Djarin?” you ask, marveling at this turn of events.

“I think you should kiss me, so that way you really know how I feel,” Din suggests.

As you watch him with wide eyes, Din tips his helmet up just enough to reveal his full lips and his rather scruffy jaw. You gravitate towards him automatically and your lips meet his in a sweet and tender kiss. He holds you close and gently explores your mouth with his, kissing you as if he’s been dreaming of it for ages. Something he confirms when you eventually pull away.

“If only you knew how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Din says.

“Probably as long as I have,” you tell him, beaming at him and leaning in for one more precious kiss.

You hug the little guy close and kiss his cheeks. Grogu responds with a happy giggle as he cuddles up to you. He turns to Din, holding out his hand and babbling happily.

A tug at yours and Din’s legs have you cutting the kiss short as someone is tired of being ignored. Din scoops little Grogu up in his big hand. The baby immediately lunges for you, his little arms thrown open and a wide smile on his face.

“I guess someone else wants kisses too?” you ask with a giggle.

“Alright, buddy, I’ll ask her,” Din says, patting Grogu’s head. He looks at you, “Well, what do you say? Will you be our sweetheart and come spend as much time as possible here in your rock garden with us?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you tell him. You look at the garden again, “Who would have thought a rock would lead to all this?”

“I always knew it would,” Din replies.

Thank you so much for reading!!!

Tag list: @boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @trekkingaroundasgard @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings @mandoloriancookie @theofficialbugs @heyitsaloy

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader

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bryce-bucher · 1 year ago

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500 CALIBER CONTRACTZ Post #12

Dialogue!!!11:

The main thing I did over the past week or so was put together this dialogue system. The system itself was fairly easily to implement, and I think the only interesting part of the process to share is how I went about making the UI. As per usual, I wanted to have a cool mechanical feeling ui, but at the same time a friend of mine suggested an AOL instant messenger inspired chat window. I loved both of these ideas so I decided to combine them into a screen that pops up and contains the aim-like window. The modeling process for the screen was similar to how I went about making the other two bits of ui that are on screen in the above photos, but I decided to include a VGA port.

VGA PORT:

I didn't originally plan to include a VGA port, but I was in the middle of researching monitors and accidentally left a window open on my computer that just had a big photo of one and I went "wait a minute.". With my final two braincells I suddenly decided to slap together a model for the port which I ended up being proud enough of to, for some reason, make an entire section for it.

Sorry if any of the above sentences read horribly. I am going to need a third braincell if you want this stuff to be coherent. Anyway, Blender is so cool. Using the array modifier to make all these lil squares for the holes in the port is just such a satisfying process. I've come to really like makin pre-rendered assets like this.

New Movez:

This is actually a pretty big inclusion, and I probably should've ranked it in my mind above the VGA port. I added some new movement options to the game!

Firstly, I added this melee move where you swing the back of the sniper forwards to propel yourself a bit. It is mainly useful as a bunnyhop that allows you to conserve momentum.

Next up I added this kick that happens if you melee while in the air. It's basically just the one from mario64. It lets you gain a little bit more height and distance. It also becomes way more effective if you have a lot of momentum. A good tool for correcting jumps and reaching new heights.

Finally, we have the big schmovement slide. This slide gives you a huge burst of speed that you can jump out of in order to send your self flyin. Surprisingly, it didn't really break any of the level design and ended up being a really fun addition imo. In order to perform it, you have to do a ground pound and then melee as you hit the ground. Also, I feel like I basically stole this from pseudoregalia. Played through that recently and it has been a good source of inspiration.

Nova!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:

This is a cameo skin I've been really excited to finally make myself put in the game. Anodyne 2 is a really important game to me, and I love it much. I'm really happy tha folks at analgesic let me put her in here, and I'm p happy with how her model came together. If you haven't peeped the Anodyne games I highly recommend them. The first one was a major inspiration for parts of Fatum Betula.

Conclusion:

Lately I've been playing this game way too much. It has made it impossible for me to tell if it is fun or well designed. Some problems cropped up during playtesting that ima need to address, and I hope that it all comes together into something that one could say is "fun and cool". I think takin this weekend off is gonna do my brain good. Oh yeah also I feel like I should advertise that I'm still doing commissions if anyone is interested. Anyway, have a good 1 and enjoy urself.

#screenshotsaturday #indiegamedev #gamedev #indiedev #game development #indiegames #lowpoly #y2k #y2k aesthetic #indie game #3d platformer #3dplatformer #sniper rifle #50 caliber 3d platformer #500 caliber contractz #50 cal #anodyne #anodyne 2

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bratbarzal · 5 months ago

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On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

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

WC: 17k (holy moly)

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

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

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

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

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have money.”

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

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

“Not enough for what?”

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

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

But he hadn’t changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talia. Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

None of it is real.

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

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

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

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

She had accused him of ruining her life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy hasn’t messaged him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he just wake her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need their money-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what she’s good at.

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

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

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

This feels like all those feelings.

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

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

He can put Poppy first.

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

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

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

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

It isn’t about what he wants.

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

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

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

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

He needs to see Poppy.

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

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

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

And he became hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talia.

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

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

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

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

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

But it hadn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 missed calls from Mom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you text him?”

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

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

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

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

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

But that changed once they graduated.

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

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

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

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

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

Poppy rolls her eyes.

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

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

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

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

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

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

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

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

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

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

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

But he never seeks her out like this.

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

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

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming or not?”

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

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

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

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

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

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we talk?”

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

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

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

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

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

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But a part of her feels it coming.

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

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

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

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

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

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

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

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

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

No, no, no.

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

“I love you-,”

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

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

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.”

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions.

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing.

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats.

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

#nico hischier #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #*oys #*writing #word of warning to anyone writing anything ever don't leave yourself stupid instructions #thinking inspiration will strike when needed #surprise surprise motherfucker it won't!!!!!!#anyway that last convo very our field of dreams engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and I'll still see it until I die #you're the loss of my life coded

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