#the cursed child san francisco

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Prologue

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 13k

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

Poppy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does.

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

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

“Then why are you all grumpy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wishes he would stop saying her name. 

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

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

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

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

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

She really wishes he wouldn’t call her that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Half?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Poppy knows that Nia knows something happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Awesome! What’s left to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is no me and Nico,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing happened!”

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

“He has a girlfriend, Nia.”

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

“Since when?” Nia frowns. 

“Since the summer just gone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talia was great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knew something still wasn’t right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was Poppy packing up her desk?

Why was she avoiding hanging out with the team?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that’s what they had been talking about. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you should ask her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aren’t friends anymore.

Avoiding the whole team all year.

Jack is driving her home.

He’s her favourite.

Aren’t friends anymore.

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out, 4 months might be too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack: need ur help

Jack: urgently

Jack: wake up dude

Nico: I’m not driving anywhere for you

Jack: not asking u to

Jack: u will like this I promise 😌

Nico: what do you want?

Jack: need u to keep Poppy company

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

Jack: been on her own for a few hours

Jack: so she’s grumpy 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 👹👹

Nico: doubt I can change the grumpy part

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

Jack: don’t need to

Jack: ur a grump too

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

Jack: u going down or no?

Nico: fine

Jack: I’ll be back in 1 hr :)

Jack: love u cap 😚

Nico: 🙄

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

> Chapter One

[ereardon]

Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 3

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2K

Chapter overview: Y/N settles into her job at Jake's vineyard, and has a revelation about their relationship

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

Masterlist here

On your second week on the job, a drunken bachelorette smashed fifteen bottles of wine by toppling over a display case. Just as you were about to curse them out, Jake swooped in, one hand on your arm, a reassurance blanket. 

“On the house,” he said with a grin and the girls swooned at him, forking over a 400% tip to try and cover the cost of the bottles. Jake let you keep it all. 

“For the practice,” he said, holding a hand up, stopping you from pressing the cash into his palm. 

“Jake, I can’t.” 

“Take it,” he replied, insistent. “Please.” 

By the time your one-month anniversary at the vineyard rolled around, Jake was letting you help plan weddings and events. The vineyard had a handful of different event packages, and you were up to your ears in paperwork. 

“Knock knock.” Jake hovered in the doorway of your office. He had cleared out a spare room next to his office and made it yours. It fit a small desk and chair, and you relished the ability to go into your office and shut the door and close out the world. 

“Hey. What’s up?” 

“You’re working late.” 

“Oh you know, my boss, he’s a real hard ass.” 

Jake grinned, lowering his arms and folding them across his broad chest. “Yeah, heard of him, they say he’s a huge asshole.” 

“And super ugly,” you replied. 

Jake chuckled. “Just wanted to check in on the Mackenzie wedding. How’s that going?” 

You sighed. “Remind me never to get married.”

He frowned. “Why is that?” 

“Marriage seems OK, but weddings are the worst. It brings out everyone’s bad side.” You tilted your head. “What was your wedding like?” 

“We didn’t have one.” 

“What?” 

He shrugged. “We were young, we wanted to save our money and travel. So we went to the San Francisco courthouse and eloped.” 

“Do you regret it?” 

“Not for a second.” He smiled. “You’re right, Sparky. Weddings aren’t for the bride and groom. They’re for family and friends. Sometimes it’s nice to keep it just about you.” 

There was something in Jake’s gaze that you couldn’t read. Was he thinking about Jenny? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” Jake said softly. “Don’t stay too late, OK? If it’s too late to drive home, call me and I’ll pick you up.” 

“I live fifteen minutes away,” you reminded him. 

“Just call me, alright.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. You found yourself watching him walk away. 

***

“Let’s make quesadillas.” 

You peeled your eyes open. Colin was standing in the corner of your room wearing a pair of swim trunks and no shirt. You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “You’re shitting me, right?” 

“Come on.” He smirked. “Night swim and Mexican food. It’s tradition.” 

“We’re not seventeen anymore, Colin,” you groaned. “I have work in the morning.” 

“Jake will understand.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied. “I’m responsible now.” 

He ripped the blanket off the bed and you shot up to seated, furious. 

“Seriously?” 

Colin grinned. “Come on. Live a little, sis.” 

Ten minutes later, the two of you were eating quesadillas in the hot tub. You tipped your head back against the tile rim. “What are we doing out here?” 

“Eating quesadillas.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. We’ve barely talked since I got home. It’s been six weeks.” 

“I’m busy. You’re busy.” 

“I have a job. You work at the crab shack.” Colin, after nearly failing out of college twice, had taken an almost permanent job on the boardwalk. This time he was a fry cook at a seafood joint frequented by tourists. 

“Don’t be such a snob, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Just like being an idiot doesn’t suit you.” 

He shoved the rest of his quesadilla in his mouth and reached for yours. You were too slow – he grabbed it and forced it into his stuffed face. “Thanks.” It came out garbled and you watched a fleck of dried cheese land in the swirling water. 

“Disgusting,” you said with a laugh. “I’m serious though. What are you doing? You can’t live with mom and dad forever.” 

“You live with mom and dad.” 

“For now.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Same.” 

You sighed. “Fine. New subject.” 

“So when do I get to see my little sis at her big grown up job?” 

“The vineyard?” He nodded. “Whenever. Come any time, I’m always there.” 

“With Jake.” 

You frowned. “Yeah, with Jake.” 

“Y/N.” He tipped his head. “He’s like, old. You know that, right?” 

“What?” You were aghast. “I mean, yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” 

“He’s too old for you.” 

“He’s Jake!” you countered. “He’s dad’s friend. He’s my boss.” 

“Not once did you say you don’t want to date him.” 

The truth in Colin’s words prickled your brain. He was right. You couldn’t say that and be telling the truth. Because the truth was, as the days went by, you were starting to see Jake differently, despite your best efforts. He was kind and he was generous and he had an affable attitude that charmed everyone, old and young, man or woman. He was easy to be with. He made things fun. 

You shook your head. “Shut up, Colin.” 

He laughed. There was something buried in that laugh. How many times had the two of you snuck out in the middle of the night for a swim? How many times had you heard his laugh, and known that he was going to unearth your secrets? Colin knew everything you did before you even did it. 

***

“We need more sauvignon blanc on table three,” you said to the head waiter. He scampered toward the bar in the back, emerging a moment later with a frosty bottle of white, carefully cutting the metal wrapper tableside and popping the cork seamlessly. 

“Relax.” Jake appeared from behind, looking relaxed in a suit in the way only a confident man in his forties could. 

“I can’t,” you replied, eyes watching the bride and groom flit from table to table speaking with their guests. So far, nothing had gone wrong. At least, not in the front of the house. In the back, you had stopped three rounds of appetizers from being burned, and had to deal with a last minute rosé crisis. 

“I hired you because I knew you’d do the job well,” he said. “But I want you to have fun, too.” 

You shot him a glare and he smirked. “Fun? You think trying not to ruin someone’s wedding is fun?” 

“Honey, once they get down the aisle, nothing could ruin it. I could go over there and puke on her dress and it would still be the best day of her life.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He chuckled. “Do me a favor, Sparky?” 

“I’m not going to spill red wine on the mother of the groom just so you can have the last laugh.” 

“Have a drink,” Jake replied. “And save me a dance.” 

By the end of the night, you had eaten approximately fifteen balls of fried mac n cheese and had four glasses of champagne. As the last guests departed – the bride and groom had driven off in an antique Jaguar an hour earlier – you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Great job guys,” you said to the crew as they filed out of the kitchen, backs sore, white servers aprons splattered with wine. Your neck was aching and so were your feet. All you wanted to do was go home, take off your wrap dress and take a hot shower before stumbling into a fluffy pile of white bed linens. 

You had been surprised to learn that all of the vendors – the florist and the linen delivery and the chair rentals – would arrive the next morning to pack everything up. Somehow you had it in your mind that a wedding was ripped down the instant it was over. As if it was never there. But the reality was, the ghost of the wedding lived on through the night. In the quiet and the dark, the skeleton of everything remained. 

As you turned, heading for the stairs, Jake emerged at the top of the stairs. “Clocking out?” 

You nodded. “I need to sleep for one hundred years and quite possibly take the longest shower known to mankind.” 

Jake carefully stepped down the marble stairway before landing at the bottom, only a foot from you. “Well if you do that, I’d have to fire you.” 

Your face fell. “What?” 

“You promised me a dance,” he added. 

You frowned. “The musicians are gone. The wedding is over, Jake. And besides, my feet feel like they’re dying.” 

“Take off your shoes.” There was something authoritative about how he said it. And despite your bed calling your name, you followed his orders, slipping off the tall heels, bare feet hitting the cold marble floor and you almost moaned in relief. Jake held out one hand and you took it, letting him lead you out onto the empty dance floor. He pulled out his phone, hitting a few buttons before music filled the air around you. “One dance,” he whispered. 

“Yes, Jefe,” you replied and he smirked. Naturally, your fingertips reached for his, one hand tangled with his fingers, the other wound around his neck. Jake held your waist softly, pulling you in closer, until you could feel the heat of him on you. 

“I couldn’t do this without you, Y/N.” You knew it was serious when he didn’t call you Sparky, the heinous nickname that had come from that one summer as a child when you had been determined to teach the dogs how to do tricks like the seals at the zoo, balancing balls on their noses and doing flips in the water. It ended horribly, and there went your dream of being a zoo performer. 

“Yes you could,” you replied. “You did it before I came home. You’ll do it after.” 

Jake’s grip tightened microscopically, but you felt it. Like he was grounding himself as the two of you swayed in the open space. “What would you say if I begged you not to leave?” 

You looked up at him. The slight stubble across his jaw, the way his collar was pulled apart, a small tuft of chest hair peering through the top of the white shirt. “Jake, I—”

“I want the best for you, Y/N,” he interrupted. “I always have. But selfishly, I want you to myself, too. You make everything easier. You make everything better. And it’s been a long time since I felt like I could depend on anyone other than myself.” 

“The clinic isn’t anywhere near done,” you replied. “I still have months of construction and paperwork and hiring people.” 

“Just the thought of losing you.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m being selfish. I’m the adult here, I shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on you.” 

You stopped dancing, dropping Jake’s hand and lifting it to his neck so that your fingertips closed behind his collar. Jake’s hands fell dutifully to your waist, large fingertips digging into the sides beneath your ribs. “I’m not a kid anymore,” you whispered. “I’m twenty five.” 

Something passed between the two of you. You found yourself staring up at Jake, his algae green eyes, the way his lips were puckered slightly. The way he felt, hot, pressed against you. 

And then it was over. Jake’s hands fell from your waist as he took a step back. “It’s late,” he said softly. “Can I drive you home?” 

You frowned. “I drove myself. I’ll be fine.” 

He turned toward the stairs, the music in his pocket shutting off abruptly. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You watched his shoulders sag as he disappeared up the stairs. The thundering of your heart in your chest threatened to knock you over. 

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 2 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

[cthulhum]

did u save my life in paris ? i gave u to armand u tell me if that was saving. why didnt u say it was me who saved u not him ? i dont like to point out my virtues. besides i knew ud figure it out and look. u have. i was right. all hail me. been enduring here ? not enduring. living. here in new orleans the whole time ? its my home. i am she she is me. i didnt know it was a gift. i wore it like a curse i was selfish. i- i tried to make the nights awful for u. i see. i wanted u to suffer cuz i was suffering. oh shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other and why it will never be right between monstrous- i came to thank u. for the gift u offered me. the gift i denied. for the nights in front of me where i might learn to live honestly. thank u. spetember 8th. 1973. september 8th 1973. it was 11:07 here. it wouldve been 9:07 in san francisco. armand called me. where u there ? yeah. did u hurt urself ? i was lost. i was in a dark way and i was thinking about- i cant i cant get her out of my mind. u have the same problem ? yeah. i cant louis- i cant-. hey hey its not on u u hear me ? i carried her home i made u turn her. i saved her from a fire so a half century later she could... she looked at me at the end... like a child looking to her father... but i was never-

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

March 15th

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1. Looking for a post 1st seige burial mounds fic on ao3. It was a wip but it's been awhile so may no longer be the case. In it jc only participated in the siege as a cover to get close enough to his brother w/out endangering lotus pier. Since he leads the charge he finds wwx first and when wwx passes out after destroying the seal jc fakes wwx's death and smuggle him back to lotus pier & hides/kinda imprison him. But the longer they're together the more jc realizes a lot of the things he blamed wwx for aren't adding up (seeing through Jin manipulations).

Jc also forgot/didn't know about ayuan so when wwx wakes up he freaks out about where his baby adopted son is, but by the time jc gets back to bm yuan is no where to be found (implied lz had already got him) but jc and wwx think this means yuan is dead. Wwx is very depressed and becomes Jin ling's secret nanny whenever the kid is at lotus pier. In the most recent updates (at the time) a baby xue yang was introduced.

He saw a disguised wwx in a hidden area by lotus pier playing in the water and is basically like 'I'm cute and small too' and plots how to get himself adopted so he can also be pampered like the wealthy kid. I think there were some alternating povs. Might of been a Lan pov too, creating dramatic irony since both yuan and wwx are alive but neither side knows? Was setting up yunmeng bro reconciliation.

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2. I'm looking for a specific fic, it was modern, WWX took LWJ to a concert of post modern, like synth? Chinese music and I think NHS told WWX about it?? It had some good song recs and I'm mainly looking for the the songs- if you guys could help me out? Thank you!!!! @recombinantdna

NOT FOUND! The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan) in which WWX finds LWJ being a DJ in a goth club in the 90s and it talks a lot about music. NHS is totally an enabler.

FOUND! show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending) WY surprised LZ by bringing him to a performance of an artist LZ likes, H i d d e n f r a g r a n c e who plays electronic guqin. The sample songs can be found in the author notes in Chapter 10

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3. hi! im looking for a fic and the only thing i remember from it was wangxian (canon divergence, maybe arranged marriage but im not sure) in maybe caiyi?? sitting down at a noodle place, and there was a thing about how wwx loved the gusu dialect and kept pestering lwj to say something in the dialect, and he knew enough of the dialect to flirt or haggle so when lwj said an endearment term (i think it was something like sweetheart?) he froze and got all panicky about wwx recognising the word because he froze too, but then wwx just asks if he swore?? THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU FIND IT ive been combing my bookmarks and history for almost weeks now and im so close to thinking i made it all up

FOUND? Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)

FOUND? Fentao-laoshi’s Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets) (E, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, pining while fucking, friends with benefits, first time, cloud recesses study arc, practice kissing, sharing a bed, jealousy, getting together, confessions, happy ending)

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4. For fic finder: I have lost a modern-au fic where Lan Zhan is in the hospital, in a children’s wing, and Wei Wuxian visits a lot/volunteers there. Wei Wuxian has prosthetic legs and he gets a new red pair around the point I lost the fic. I am pretty sure I found the rec through this blog but I can’t find it again TT Help please!

FOUND? 🔒 some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

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5. First, thank you for everything that you do ! Your posts and recommendations and "I'm in the mood for" collections have kept my heart and soul busy for years now! I am honestly in awe of all the hard work and time you dedicate to both pages! 🥰

Unfortunately I don't remember much of the summary of the fic I'm searching for, but I wanted to try my luck. 🙈 It was a light modern dom/sub fic where WY accidentally sort of turned LZ into a sub. I think by giving him indirect orders all the time? And nobody noticed until WQ pointed it out? I searched through Ao3 with the light dom/sub tag for ages and then eventually gave up.

Maybe it rings a bell for you? 🙏🤞❤️ @papperlapapp1

FOUND? And They Were Roommates! or The Accidental Domming of Lan Wangji by DizziDreams (E, 21k, wangxian, Dom WWX, Sub LWJ, inexperienced BDSM practices, un-/under- negotiated kink, horny climbing, horny cohabitation, horny on main except by main I mean at a party surrounded by innocent bystanders, Praise Kink, Masturbation, Bondage, Lingerie, Orgasm Delay/Denial, omg they were roommates, Modern, BDSM, debatably a bit of dom drop, Public Masturbation, Edging, Getting Together, WQ has to come in and straighten this shit out)

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6. Okay so looking for a fic where lwj or wwx accidentally summon incubus/succubus wwx or lwj. (I can't remember who was the sex demon or who was the human but it is a wangxian fic)

So, the succubus needs food and it is, unsurprisingly, cum. As in they have to literally eat cum to survive. So the human is followed by this succubus/incubus everywhere they go to including his university.

The human does love feeding the sex demon and even lets him feed in the uni bathroom during breaks.

Does a fic like this exist? Does it ring any bell?

FOUND? An Array of Good Decisions by celerydragon (E, 11k, WangXian, Demon Sex Size Kink, Size Difference, Consensual Non-Consent, dubcon, Tongue Sex, Omegaverse, Humiliation, Mild Breeding Kink)

FOUND? Lan Wangji's Fullproof Guide on How (NOT) to Summon a Demon by fardimensions (E, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Porn With Plot, but not a lot of plot, Incubus WWX, Demons, wwx has a tail, Wings, Interspecies Sex, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Anal Sex, Crack, Filthy, size queen LWJ)

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7. for the fic finder: it's a fic (dom/sub canon au?) where wei wuxian gave lan wangji a collar before he died. lan wangji keeps the collar for as long as he can but eventually the leather is too old and it breaks. there's a bunch of sadness but all is well when wei wuxian resurrects.

thank you for all you do!!

FOUND? Breathe Again by Sheehan_sidhe (E, 4k, wangxian, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Breathplay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, POV LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Submissive LWJ, Crying LWJ, Grieving LWJ, Collars, Angst with an Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. for fic finder: my heart tells me it was a modern/modern with cultivation au, but my searches have been fruitless. i just remember our beloved wangxian dancing around each other, and the juniors being there with a similar problem. specifically, jin ling being tested at archery, and sizhui Totally Only There For Emotional Support And No Other Reason.

FOUND? with you, I am home by tellthemstories (M, 47k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, fake dating for reasons, Meeting the Family, There Was Only One Bed, Casual Domesticity, wwx is oblivious in more ways than one, 'this fic is like emotional edging', this comment sums up the entire fic)

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9. heyI've been looking for a fic for a while.WWX and LWJ were in the turtle's cave of slaughter... they had no energy to fight and decided to do double cultivation.

When it comes to the part where WWX donates the golden core to JC.... during the surgery, WQ discovers WWX is pregnant, the double cultivation generated a uterus.

He is still captured by the Wen clan and thrown into the grave hill.He believes he lost the baby because of this and uses his resentful energy to survive and get revenge.

When he reaches the part at the end of the campaign where the sun falls, he goes into labor without knowing that he is still pregnant.

It's not Omegaverse.

Sorry if my writing is bad, english is not my first language @crazy-tai

FOUND? Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

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10. Hello! I was wondering if anyone here knew of a fic that took place during the Wen Indoctrination? If I remember right, it was only one chapter, set mostly in the Untamed universe because Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning had worked together to make it seem like he was dead for the Wens after being locked in with that dog, but he was grabbed too early and basically paraded in front of the other disciples under the belief that he was dead. If anyone else has seen this fic, I'd be extremely grateful!

FOUND!🔒💖 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, wangxian, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Some mentions of blood, it looks like someone is dead but!!, it is okay, everything is going to be okay i promise, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Wwx and lwj know they're in love, They just don't know the other loves them back, Everyone Lives AU, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ)

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11. For your next fic finder, I'm looking for a modern wangxian dating reality tv au. It's omegaverse and in the first half of the show, everyone is paired up, but in the second half of the show, it's wilderness survival with the alphas trying to catch the omegas. Wwx is a career omega who is trying to get a cash prize instead of an alpha. @leahlisabeth

FOUND? 🧡 shoot your shot – hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author’s Notes)

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12. Guys I need help finding this story. So it’s about Wei ying being hit by this memory yao. And he is in pain. So lan zhan, lan yuan, lan qiren, lan huan, Jin rulan, and jiang cheng. They use this spell to take Wei ying bad memories. They hold onto this bad memories because they don’t want Wei ying to go through all of that and remember. Ofc they are traumatized but they love him, etc. sooo please if you know the name write in comments. I have been looking for it for DAYS @zodime101

FOUND? Window of the Waking Mind by mrcformoso (M, 8k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, JC & WWX, Graphic depictions of violence, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Torture, Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Break, Flashbacks, Curses, Night Hunts, Suicide, Starvation, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, Cannibalism, Although it was forced by the situation to survive, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, lots of comfort, Soft LQR, Learning To Communicate, Zidian Spiritual Tool, JC Tries, Reaction)

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13. hi! for the next fic finder — it was sizhui centered! him being raised by lwj but also wwx, but wwx is a ghost. and wwx has no recollection of his death and there was this one scene where he curls up around ayuans body and falls asleep and he wakes in the cloud recesses and i think he thinks he's being ignored? and then there was the whole realizing he was a ghost thing. and also lwj burying his body at the bm. pls help me T^T its Not "the dark doesnt frighten me, its mine" btw!

NOT FOUND! the moon, grown full by Deinde (T, 22k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Spirits, Identity Reveal, discussion of war crimes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Homecoming, reclaiming your name and identity, Names, Families of Choice)

FOUND! The Intervening Years by rosemu (G, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LSZ centric, Parent-Child Relationship, Wangxian is background, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

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14. Hi! For fic finder: I am looking for a canon-era fic where cultivators have golden blood and regular people have red blood. When Wei Wuxian loses his core his blood fades to red, which means he has to work harder to hide his wounds or they will give away his core-less state. I particularly remember the scene where Jiang Cheng stabs him in their “mock” fight WWX hides his wound with a cloak. He takes to covering up his body fully from head to toe to avoid showing any scrapes. Then after he is revived and Jiang Cheng whips him he purposefully shows the red blood to “prove” he isn’t WWX, then I think the core reveal happens when Jin Ling stabs him and everyone knows its him and they see the red blood too. Thank you!!

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15. I need help finding a fic, I didn’t get too far into it but I really want to finish it. I think it was a longer fic and I think it’s well known and/or already in a comp or itmf answer. I i remember is that the summary put wwx as a temporary head of the Jiang Clan, from the first few chapters I think he’s tricked/strong armed into this position by JC. He had some Buisness at koi tower or a conference that would take a while so he needed a filler and wanted WWX. I think it’s post-cannon and it had someone insulting WWX in the summary and something along the lines of a statement of spite and a declaration to prove said person wrong.

This is likely a terrible description but it’s all I have. I know I got the og link from this site so someone should recognize it… Help would be greatly appreciated.

FOUND? Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

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16. Hello! For the next fic finder I have two fics:

A) the only thing I remember about this fic is that it deals with the "do not speak with Wei Ying" rule. Lan Wangji was really angry when he found out and was about to go yell at his uncle, but Wei Wuxian kept trying to stop him. I remember Wwx threw himself into a pond or down a hill or something to snap Lwj out of it? I don't remember anything else about the fic unfortunately.

B) vampire au where Wwx was a vampire and the lans hunted the supernatural I think? Wangxian had to work together to stop some evil thing. I remember Wwx's backstory was something like: Wen Chao captured him and locked him in a room with a vampire, thinking it would result in Wwx dying (cultivators couldn't be turned into vampires, they would just die). But Wwx had given up his core so he got turned and Wen Chao locked him in a house with Wen Ning. There was a fire and Wwx turned Wen Ning to save his life. I also remember a scene where Wwx tried to go into Cloud Recesses, but the wards wouldn't let him. He thought this meant Lwj wanted nothing to do with him, but it was just Lan Xichen updating the wards or something.

Thank you!

16A)

FOUND?🔒Scenes From Three Winters by LtLJ (G, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, romance, family feels, family issues, family drama, PTSD, body horror, bad parent LQR, happy ending) Wei Ying throwing himself in a pond and down a hill to snap LWJ out of anger at his uncle sounds a lot like what happens at the end of Scenes from Three Winters by LtLJ but it's not specifically the 'do not speak to Wei Ying' rule that's the problem (will probably need to read other fics in the series for context)

16B)

FOUND?🔒hear the monsters calling home by sundiscus (M, 8k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Vampires, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, blood drinking (romantic))

FOUND? And you must keep your soul/ Like a secret in your throat by athena_crikey (E, 48k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Vampire WWX, Cultivator LWJ, Case Fic, h/c Angst, Falling In Love, First Time, Reference to Torture)

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17. Hi!! for the next fic finder, I was hoping of you guys could help me find a fic where it takes place in post canon: lwj cultivates to immortality even though he didn’t want to be and wwx tried hard to catch up to him but later on passes away bc he was never able to. Lwj was so devastated and during wwx’s funeral, jc came to pay respects and lwj found out that jc has also become an immortal. lwj says something along the lines of “how dare you cultivate to immortality with his core?” it might be a reincarnation fic but that’s about all i can remember from it. Thank you so much! @makkachiin

FOUND!🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic) The scene at WY's funeral is in Chapter 3.

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18. Hi! I hope my request will be clear, since English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance. I really want to read it, but I can't find a fic in which Lan Sizhui dies on a night hunt, saving the distracted Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. I don't remember many details, but I remember how the grief of A-Yuan's family and friends was described, and then A-Yuan was reborn. The fic was on ao3. @amelliss

FOUND? Setting Of The Sun by heartsdesire456 (M, 8k, WangXian , Character Death, Or Is It?, Grief/Mourning, Child Loss, Heavy Angst) i don't think it's reincarnation but this sounds similar to

FOUND? Our Son Reborn by RenaFair (T, 103k, WangXian, Mpreg, Deities, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, There's smut, Rollercoaster of Emotions, baby a-yuan)

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19. hi, I’m look for a fic from ao3, I can’t really remember the plot but the end was wwx absorbing the tiger seal and in the process made a SILVER core. It happened in the burial mound (I think after the seal was stolen in Lanling but that might be a different fic)the timeline was before wwx’s first death because wen Qing was still alive @teasong

FOUND? ❤️ kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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20. Hello! I am looking for Wangxian fanfiction where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are lovers before Demonic cultivation and Wei Ying hurt Lan Zhan as in canon later the reunite after 13 years or something like that @abz18699-blog

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[praetorqueenreyna]

I'm supposed to wake up tomorrow and go to therapy when did you save my life in paris I gave you to armand you tell me if that was saving why didn't you say it was me who saved you not him I don't like to point out my virtues besides I knew you'd figure it out and look you have I was right all hail me been enduring here not enduring living here in new orleans the whole time it's my home I am she she is me I didn't know it was a gift I wore it like a curse I was selfish I tried to make nights awful for you I wanted you to suffer cuz I was suffering shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other and why it will never be right between monstrous I came to thank you for the gift you offered me the gift I denied for the nights in front of me where I might learn to live honestly thank you september 8th 1973 september 8th 1973 it was 11:07 here it would have been 9:07 in san francisco armand called me were you there? yeah. did you hurt yourself?? I was lost I was in a dark way and I was thinking about I can't I can't get her out of my mind you have the same problem yeah I can't Louis I can't hey hey hey it's not on you you hear me? I carried her home I made you turn her and saved her from a fire so a half century later she could she looked at me at the end like a child looking to her father but I was never

[deaddovehasbeeneaten]

On Rowan, Michael and corruption (kink) - a meta post (7h)

For Rowan and Michael both being extremely het and boring in bed and not really practicing anything besides service and slight rape kink, they're both into corruption a lot. The more I think about it the more sure I am that their entire intimacy, not just sex, is built around it. And they each feel it in both ways, actually. Alright, let me explain.

From Rowan's point of view, she is corrupting Michael as the Witch. She's an evil person with hidden, selfish agendas she's imposing upon him. Her family curse extends from her to him as well and it eats him up. In her desperation, she's dragged him from his life in San Francisco and she keeps him by her side for all the same reasons.

At the same time, Michael is corrupting her because he spoils her rotten. He gives her love she doesn't deserve, and he constructs a family life for her and all the other Mayfairs, even though she, and all of her kind, are evil. He makes her softer, he seemingly evaporates her lifelong loneliness. He gets under her skin, and he forgives everything she wasn't able to forgive herself for decades. He keeps on loving her even after she horribly mistreats him.

From Michael's point of view he is corrupting Rowan because he's utterly unsuited for her. He's much older than she, and when they first meet and fall in love his life is in shambles. Not only is he disturbing her perfect career, but he's subjecting her to his way of life as well, away from what she's always known, he wants that family life, he wants kids, and she never seemed to care for such a thing.  

Rowan is corrupting him because she keeps on giving everything he ever secretly wanted. By this, I mean very simple things such as unlimited freedom in renovating what is essentially his heart house, or the rough sex but also things that are deeply personal for him, such as the name of their child, the child itself.

They reflect in this, they both think they're unworthy, but at the same time they're two dumb bitches saying 'exactlyyyyy' to each other every time they're alone and I see that as another type of corruption (kink, I will get to the kink part in a minute). A nice example of this happens the morning after they spend their first night together.

Rowan admits to all of her crimes (those she knows of) in an active attempt to push Michael away. He dismisses all the murder with almost a wave of his hand. Given what we learn about him later it's very likely he'd even kill some of these people himself, on Rowan's account (Graham).

Even though Rowan doesn't have to accept anything quite as drastic about Michael at the time, she's very willing to look past multiple red flags, either connected directly to him or to their situation, and later she goes on to forgive Michael murder, adultery and statutory rape (among other things!).

To relate all of this back to the way they have sex, we can look at their semi-explicit sex scene from Taltos and then some other parts of the book. In it, it's no new information that Rowan likes it rough. 'Rape from both sides' in her own words but her willingness to be 'raped' outright by Michael (and no other man) is nonetheless striking. It's not only to relieve him physically, it's also for her own mental state. She thinks she deserves it, it's meant to be her punishment, and it's the only way she can take pleasure from him because she's bad and he's already corrupted so he can only obey her (until he doesn't but that's a different story).

I'm hesitant to say if Michael's conviction of his corrupting Rowan translates to the sex so directly as well. He's more ashamed of his preferred way of sex than she is of hers but that has little to do with corruption, or Rowan personally.

The one thing I will mention is his seeming eagerness to put all of the shared sins committed since they married behind them. He encourages Rowan to do it, repeatedly, he openly condones it to her. The reasons he does this are complicated and not focused on, but I think they're at the very least rooted in his desire to help her and be with her.

With this I'm pointing out that he went from desperately wishing for a family and a house full of playing children to only wanting her and her recovery - so much in fact he's willing to personally ask Lestat (her lover as well as the ideal tool for suicide, for Rowan) for help. This transformation is corruption, and I also think it's very erotic.

[misguidedasgardian]

From the Ashes (II)

II. Mother's little helper

MASTERLIST

Summary: The situation with John is still pretty rocky, lucky for you, Djinns had been said to grant your wishes 

Pairings for this chapter: Dean x reader, John x reader (you'll understand)

Warnings: Supernatural (and all that comes with it), monsters of all kinds, pyrokinesis, cursing, murder, child endangerment, impersonating of law enforcers, guns, mentions of virginity loss, birth, blood drinking, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 2,9 k

Notes: I re-wrote the first one

2001, Jackson Hole, Wyoming

You woke up with a smile on your face, it was an exciting day after all, you almost jump out of bed, energized by the smell of breakfast, you could hear your mother singing in the kitchen downstairs. You wanted to jump to the first floor but you knew she wouldn’t like that, so you ran as fast as you could and in a second you were right by her side

“Good morning mama!”, you chanted, she smiled at you grabbing your face and kissing your cheek

“Good morning my love”, she said, with the brightest smile, “excited for today? I can’t believe my daughter is going to Stanford!”

“It’s not a big deal!” you said coyly, but you knew it was

“I’m so proud of you”, she said, looking at you with loving eyes

“Thank you mommy”, you whispered, she hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head

“You have to get me one of those stickers for the car, the ones that read “my daughter is in stanford” or a t-shirt!”, she said excitedly, as she served you breakfast, scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, you made the coffee, and you shared an amazing time.

“You know, california is beautiful, if you want, we can sell the house and I can move down there with you”, she offered

“Mom, you love it here, is where our family was from”, you said softly, “besides this house is a dream, with how expensive everything is in San Francisco, we’ll get a place like a ⅓ of the size”, you explained

“Oh I get it, my daughter doesn’t want me going down there and spoiling her fun!”, she teased,

“No!”, you giggled, “that is not it”

“I get it love”, she said softly, caressing the side of your face, “you are going to be great”, she said 

“Thank you”, you said, smiling widely. You had spend the last two years traveling the world after you ended high school, and now you were ready to start college, not any college, you had been accepted to Stanford

And you were so excited

“Remember to use your gloves honey”, she said sweetly, kissing you on your forehead, already saying your goodbyes, “and also, remember to keep away from photos as much as you can, alright?”, she asked, “you know now in the new age, everyone wants their picture taken to upload it to the internet and the internet…”

“Is forever”’, you completed, “I remember”

“Have fun, and take care sweety”, she said lovingly, and you hugged her one last time to leave your home

You got into your car, your Pontiac firebird a family friend had gotten you for your birthday and started your journey

You were driving to California, you loved roadtrips, good music, your baby, an open road… amazing

You reached San Francisco three days later. Just in time for orientation, as you were getting out of your car, you stumbled upon a large dude, he was tall! like a tree!

“I’m so sorry!”, you mumbled at the same time, his dark eyes met you down

“Nice ride!”, he admired, you felt your cheeks heated

“Thank you”, you whispered, looking back at your baby, “are you here for orientation?”

“Yes actually, you too?”, you nodded enthusiastically, “great, I’m Sam, Sam Winchester”, he said offering his hand, you shook it back, muttering your name back to him, he looked at the gloves weirdly, it might be fall but it was still warm

“What’s with the gloves?”, he asked curiously

“Oh I… well, it was an accident, I was four, my mom was cooking, she turned for one second…”, you said like you have told that lie a thousand ways before, “my hands… are weird looking but also very sensitive”

“Oh”, he said, like he had messed up, “sorry”

“Don’t sweat it”, you said softly, “it’s a common question”, you walked into the campus together, you were looking at everything with a mouth wide open, it was an incredible campus

Turns out, you and Sam met the first day, and you sticked together every day since, he wanted to become a Lawyer, you wanted to become an architect, but you made it work, you studied together, you hang around together and you started to build a group of friends around you

And just like that, four whole years happened, Sam started dating Jess, and they were super happy, and you were already enlisting yourself to be the maid of honor, and you… well… you were hanging around with a guy, but you weren’t too sure about him

Henry

He was so handsome and tall, he was the perfect man, a gentleman, and yet… you still weren’t so sure about him, there was something missing. 

You were actually discussing this with Jess, you were together, the three of you, when Sam’s apartment doorbell rang. Sam frowned, going for the door, and when he came back, he wasn’t alone. 

“Well, hello gorgeous”, he purred your way when Jess and Sam were in the kitchen

“Hi”, you muttered simply. He was handsome, deep green eyes, spiky hair, leather jacket, very hip. VERY handsome

“Are you… Sam’s friend?”, he asked

“Yes, we met first year here”, you said simply, he only nodded, a smirk on his lips, you even felt nervous with him.

“I’m Sam’s brother”, he said and you nodded, acknowledging him

“Here”, said Sam, bringing him a beer. You couldn’t stop staring at him, and him you. Sam noticed this, and seemed uncomfortable

“What brings you here Dean?”, he asked nervously, just then Dean looks at his brother

“I can’t pay a visit to my little brother?”, he asked  cheerfully, “let’s turn this around, order a couple of pizzas, drink some beer, you can invite some friends”, he said lightly

And turn it around you did

Soon the small apartment was packed, Dean was the soul of the party, that let you have a chat with Sam

“He just got out of SFS”, Sam said apologetically, “he majored in mechanical engineering”, he said lightly. You sneaked a peek at Dean and he was looking back at you, he smirked 

“Is that so?”, you mumbled, he chuckled, you looked back at him

“I know that sneaky look in your eyes”, he said

“He is handsome”, you said, he seemed entertained, “is he going to break my heart?”, you asked

“No”, he said softly

And he didn’t. Dean worked at a garage with his father while you attempted to finish school, by the time you were graduating, Sam proposed to Jess, even though they were very young, they were so in love, they got married, and when you attended their wedding in a beautiful deep purple dress -as a maid of honor-, you and Dean, both attended the wedding together, you had been dating for a year now, you danced all night, you in his arms, and he asked you, to move in with him, you of course said yes.  

You met his father, John, at the very wedding, he was happy. Their mother had died when they were children, he never remarried. But he seemed so happy to be there, with his two boys, and with their girls. 

Your mother had told you, many years ago, as a bedtime story, that you, as a phoenix, mated for life, you feel a pull, a string leading you to that person, and you’ll be happy together. You believed that, you wanted it. Dean holds you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you”, he whispered

“I love you too”, you said happily. 

You told him you were a phoenix, he didn’t care.

He found it fascinating.

You lived happily, you moved in together, you worked in your dream job, restoring old buildings in San Francisco, Dean worked in his father’s shop. He asked you to marry him, you eloped in Vegas. With Sam, Jess and your parents. 

You were living in an apartment on top of the shop, it was so comfortable, it was your home.

You found out you were pregnant, with twin girls

Your mother was there, she lived with you to help you with the girls, she was by your side when you gave birth. Dean loved her, and… you could honestly look up into the skies and give thanks, because you were the luckiest woman on the earth.

Dean was so over the moon, he was the greatest girl's dad you had ever seen. You fell even more for him, if that was even possible.

You had friends that you adored, you had the most handsome and incredible husband, which you loved with all your heart, you had a caring father in law. And you had two perfect little girls that took after their fathers, and you had your mother. 

Your life was perfect. 

“Really?”, she asked him, “you are giving her dreams instead of nightmares?”, she mocked, watching you on the floor, sleeping peacefully, “you are getting weak”, she whispered in her mate’s ear. Who had your wrist on his mouth, he had managed to break the skin, he was feeding from you. 

“She is too powerful”, the Djinn responded, blood dripping down the corner of his lip, “if she gets distressed she will break out of the trance”

“What is she?”, she asked back, fascinated

“I don’t know”, he answered, “but her blood… is delicious”. The other Djinn turned to John, laying on the floor next to you

“Let’s see how you taste old man”, she purred

John looked at the big farmhouse with curiosity, he went up the three wooden steps that lead to the porch and then inside of the house.

It was his parents house, they were gone now, but the house was lit up with life inside of it. The house had been abandoned but now, it had been brought back to life.

“Sweetheart? is that you?”, he heard a melodic voice coming from the kitchen. He looked everywhere, the house was completely renovated, it was beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered.

“Yes”, he answered, he didn't even know why, maybe it was a force of habit. 

He stopped by the mirror in the corridor and he looked at himself in it, there he was, himself. when he was thirty.

What the hell was going on?

He heard footsteps from the corridor leading to the kitchen, and then, his breath got caught in his throat when he saw you, coming towards him, with a beautiful smile, and a big baby bump. You look older than you were, at least thirty 

“We missed you”, you said with a bright smile, you were wearing an apron, you had flour staining it, you took his face gently in your hand and you kissed him, his hands traveled to your hips

“Hello darlin”, he whispered against your lips

“Papa!”, he heard footsteps tapping around in the corridor. Two children appeared, which he could recognize anywhere, Sam and Dean, looking as cute as buttons. Dean was eight and Sam was four. 

“(y/n) is baking my favorite pie”, said Dean Happily, John dropped his bag of tools, grabbing Sammy on his strong arms, and followed you into the kitchen. He found it weird that he called you by your name instead of… and then he saw a picture of Mary on the wall, with the boys. Where you…?

“Your little girl had been kicking me all day long!”, you said happily, finishing up in the kitchen

“Little girl?”, he asked, curiously

“Well, I know you can never know for sure”, you said softly, “but this old lady told me she thought it was a girl, and well, many things, we did the ring test, and rhe shape of the belly too…”, you muttered. He looked at your shape from where he was sitting. He must be dreaming. He looked at his boys, eating the chicken and potatoes you had made them. 

This had to be a dream

But he didn’t want to scare you.

He looked at your shape again, you were a woman now, grown, which let him know you were no longer a supernatural creature.Your huge belly, he looked at his boys, who looked back at him wide eyed, and smiling

He felt… happy.

“What happened?”, he dared to ask you, when you were both ready for bed, in the master bedroom.

“What do you mean?”, you asked softly. He was clearly… with you… but the boys existed too, and… “remember that this week, well, of course you remembered but I called the florist already”, yous aid gently

“What florist?”, he asked

“For… Mary’s memorial”, you said, looking at him sadly. Mary died, he remarried… you…. he had the boys and now he was expecting a girl… with you.

“Alright, thank you”, he said, leaning in and kissing your lips, you felt asleep cuddled by his side, your big belly over his stomach.

He was putting flowers on Mary’s grave. His friends and remaining family were there. but you weren’t, you didn’t feel well, and he realized you wanted to give him space, which he appreciated. It had been four years since Mary’s death, he believed it was a bit too soon to be married to you, but right now, he didn’t know what happened.

He worked in his own mechanic shop, his own, he was so proud of himself for achieving it, he came back to you and the kids every night, he went to his kid’s games, he even coached little league. 

He found you in the kitchen, your water broke, and you whined in pain.

He took you to the hospital, he left the kids with the neighbors, a loving couple you liked so much, that you barbequed with.

It was a girl, a beautiful little girl who looked like you.

He was happy, really happy. He’s got the cake, and he ate it too.

He woke up early that one morning, you were so tired, Violet kept waking you up for feeding in the middle of the night, but there you were, sleeping soundly next to him

“Dad!”, he heard, in the back of his mind, “DAD!”, the last thing he saw was your sleeping face, before Dean was shaking him awake. 

He was back in the present, and two Djinns lay dead, one, killed by the Dean, the other… copious amounts of blood were dripping from his mouth, like he just throw it all up, he was right next to you, your wrist… was healing but it had been bitten onto, severely.

Dean was over you now, shaking you awake

“Mom?”, you felt like you would die, you were so weak, your eyelids were heavy, very heavy

“No darling, it’s me”, you heard that gruff voice, Dean, tried to make you sit, but he had to grab you, you couldn’t keep your own body up

“Mmmm Dean?”, you asked, feeling so faint, like your brain was made of cotton

“Shh, I got you”, he shushed gently, “those bastards got you good”, lifting you from the ground. “Dad, are you ok?”, he asked

“Yes I’m fine Dean, take care of her!”, he insisted, the Djinns didn’t get to him in time. 

“What were they?”, you asked, as they both started walking away. 

“Djinns, got you and dad”, Dean carried you like you were a princess, out of the large Warehouse. It came back, all of it, you had come to Denver, in Colorado, to find and kill the Djinns that were draining dry innocent people. 

“I’m sorry”, you whined

“It’s fine, thanks to you, I got the time to rescue dad and gank them”, he said

“What happened?”, you asked then

“They fed off of you, they seemed rabid for it”, he said, he laid you in the back of the Impala, and closed the door gently, you curled up, hugging yourself, it seemed impossible, but you might have been experiencing cold for the very first time

Both John and Dean got inside the car, John in the passenger seat, he turned over the leather seat and looked at you

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”, he asked, concern in his features

“Mhm”, you mumbled, barely

“I’m sorry”, he muttered

“It’s fine”, you whispered

“Is she going to be alright?”, he asked Dean, he shook his head

“I will”, you promised, “I need a minute”

“I didn’t even know monsters could feed off of phoenixes”, John said, Dean started the car and leaving the scene quickly

“They did, but one of them died because of it, he started screaming, like he was being burned, and then he just collapsed and died”, he said quickly, “like her blood was poison or something”

“Mmmm I need a sandwich”, you mumbled, really out of it

“What kind of sandwich?”, asked Dean

“Mmmm meat… cheese… mayo”, you barely whisper, “and a strawberry milkshake”

“That sounds… pretty good”, Dean said happily. “Let’s get away from this crap-ass city”, he said 

John kept looking back at you. You just dozed off, only in a couple of hours, you were going to be brand new. 

Post chapter notes: Soooo Reader wished her mom never died. And John fleetingly wished he met the reader “before”, didn’t specify much.

Maybe this chapter is a bit weird, its similar to the one where Dean gets trapped by a Djinn and he alucinates... anyways... happy reading

taglist! <3

@deans-spinster-witch

[cursedcricket]

I’m feeling silly and chaotic so here’s a cursed child fandom history lesson

On one Valentine’s Day the official Cursed Child San Francisco account released a poll asking for everyone’s favourite Cursed Child ship.

One of the options for this poll was Albus (who is 14) and Delphi (who is about 22). People immediately pointed out how they’d rather ship a child with an adult then 2 boys.

The post was taken down.

[zyzoy]

Does anyone have a Harry Potter cursed child bootleg of the shortened version? (Specifically San Francisco but anything post-2020/2021 is good). I’ve been looking for a year and I’m desperate 😭. I don’t really get how trading or buying works so like message me if possible.

[makimacult]

But the success story is not one of Silicon Valley genius alone. In its quest to make ChatGPT less toxic, OpenAI used outsourced Kenyan laborers earning less than $2 per hour, a TIME investigation has found.

The work was vital for OpenAI. ChatGPT’s predecessor, GPT-3, had already shown an impressive ability to string sentences together. But it was a difficult sell, as the app was also prone to blurting out violent, sexist and racist remarks. This is because the AI had been trained on hundreds of billions of words scraped from the internet—a vast repository of human language. That huge training dataset was the reason for GPT-3’s impressive linguistic capabilities, but was also perhaps its biggest curse. Since parts of the internet are replete with toxicity and bias, there was no easy way of purging those sections of the training data. Even a team of hundreds of humans would have taken decades to trawl through the enormous dataset manually. It was only by building an additional AI-powered safety mechanism that OpenAI would be able to rein in that harm, producing a chatbot suitable for everyday use.

To get those labels, OpenAI sent tens of thousands of snippets of text to an outsourcing firm in Kenya, beginning in November 2021. Much of that text appeared to have been pulled from the darkest recesses of the internet. Some of it described situations in graphic detail like child sexual abuse, bestiality, murder, suicide, torture, self harm, and incest.

OpenAI’s outsourcing partner in Kenya was Sama, a San Francisco-based firm that employs workers in Kenya, Uganda and India to label data for Silicon Valley clients like Google, Meta and Microsoft. Sama markets itself as an “ethical AI” company and claims to have helped lift more than 50,000 people out of poverty.

The data labelers employed by Sama on behalf of OpenAI were paid a take-home wage of between around $1.32 and $2 per hour depending on seniority and performance. For this story, TIME reviewed hundreds of pages of internal Sama and OpenAI documents, including workers’ payslips, and interviewed four Sama employees who worked on the project. All the employees spoke on condition of anonymity out of concern for their livelihoods.

https://time.com/6247678/openai-chatgpt-kenya-workers/

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

It’s almost 2023, so let’s celebrate the good things that happened to us in 2022! List ten amazing things that happened to you this year and then send this to ten people who brighten your day!

Ten is honestly tricky, so let's go with small victories.

I went to Ireland

I reached over 5,000 followers

I joined an online DnD group

I saw Beetlejuice: The Musical

I saw Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

My sister and I had a whole Halloween weekend starting in Santa Cruz and ending in San Francisco

My friend got married this year

I didn't have a single month where I wondered if I was going to be able to make rent

I read more books this year than I did last year

According to AO3 I wrote 10,000 more words this year than last year

[whitepolaris]

Captain Johnson's Golden Slugs

The mouth of the Columbia River was named the Graveyard of Ships after storms and dangerous currents wrecked hundreds of sailing craft on the treacherous sandbars, within sight of land. Of course one man's tragedy can be another man's treasure, as Captain Johnson found-unless he also inherited a curse.

Captain Johnson-no one seems to recall his first name-was originally from Scotland but came to the Pacific Northwest on trading voyages several times in the 1800s. In 1848, he filed a settlement land claim on the north side of the Columbia River, along Baker's Bay. Atop a high hill overlooking the mouth of the river, Johnson built a mansion of white pine, which he imported from Maine. Behind the mansion, he built a cabin for his Chinook Indian wife and the two children they had together. His wife and her relatives were never allowed into his mansion, but the boys were admitted when other white guests came along with their children.

In addition to owning his own ship, Johnson was a salvage master, recovering cargo from several wrecks on the treacherous sandbars within sight of his home. One of these wrecks came from San Francisco and carried a cargo with many pounds of gold bullion in the form of golden slugs. Johnson salvaged a huge number of these slugs, each weighing between two and three ounces, with a value of between $40 and $60. At one point, he showed them to a friend, who estimated that Johnson had about $20,000 in slugs.

Captain Johnson was not a trusting man, and rather than keeping his gold in a strongbox or a bank, he hid it in many places on his property. Every day or so he walked along a trail to a hill known as the Devil's Slide, inspecting the hiding places of his gold. One day one of his children, George, who was three or four years old at the time, followed him and took some of the gold to play with. When Johnson saw his son, he scolded him sternly and told the boy that evil spirits guarded the gold. Terrible things would happen to any intruder who tried to handle it.

Johnson's scolding so frightened the child that he never followed his father on the treasure path again. It was a shame, because the captain drowned, sometime around 1857, without telling anyone where the gold was buried. The house and property, 640 acres of land, were sold to a man named Isaac Whealdon in 1858. Mrs. Johnson, who had no idea where the gold was buried, returned with her sons to her family in Chinook. None of the Johnsons, perhaps frightened by the old captain's tale of a curse, ever look for the gold. Years later, as an adult, George Johnson refused to lead anyone along the path his father used to walk.

Over the years, Whealdon gave several people permission to dig for treasure, under the agreement that they would share it with him and the Johnsons. None of them found anything. In one case, they might have succeed if Whealdon's wife had not intered.

In 1896, Mr. Whealdon invited several friends to his house to discuss the treasure. One of his guests was a Cree Indian woman named Mrs. Pierce, who had recently moved into the area. She had gained a reputation for "finding" missing objects, including the body of a drowned fisherman. The woman agreed to conduct a séance to contact Captain Johnson, and the night was perfect for a session. As they commenced, a storm began. In a few minutes, the Native American woman was apparently in a deep trance; suddenly she sat up and looked around and her manner underwent a strange alteration.

Her ordinary accent changed, and in a deep burr, she said that she was Captain Johnson. Whealdon and his wife were both Scots and claimed that the accent was real. Someone said that they recognized the voice as Johnson's. As the séance continued, the rainstorm outside became a fierce gale, rattling the windows and timbers of the house. Isaac Whealdon asked the spirit of the captain if he would lead them to the gold.

Captain Johnson agreed to take them to the hiding place of the gold if they would share with the Johnson family . . . and the medium. When they agreed, the woman stood up and led them all toward the door. The rain and wind were howling now, but they were determined to find the gold. Suddenly Mrs. Whealdon ran ahead of them and blocked the door. In a typically Scottish commonsense way, she told them that no one was going out on a night like that. She did not step away from the doorway until they all agreed to try another time.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Pierce refused to participate in another séance, and Mr. Whealdon never found the treasure. One man did find a gold piece on part of Captain Johnson's old homestead. He bought the land and continued searching in vain. He grew so frustrated with his failed treasure hunt that he committed suicide.

Captain Johnson's $20,000 hoard at today's prices would be . . . A LOT! All someone has to do is find it, though there are plenty of possible owners. Over the years, Captain Johnson's 640-acre land claim has been split up and sold to many buyers, and the town of Ilwaco sits in the middle of his land.

[heavenforblog1111]

The Bravery is a rock band from New York formed in 2003. The band was active from 2003 till 2011. They later split to pursue their individual ventures and regrouped again in 2021. The band has performed a few live shows like the one at Rickshaw Shop in San Francisco in 2021, Corona Capital City in Mexico city etc. Song Review and Explanation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbeJFFbwL38 Above and Below is among my favorite songs by the band. It was also featured in 'Never Back Down' movie. The song is about how lead singer feels depressed to the point that he considers suicide. It is pretty evident from the lyrics. The singer feels ashamed of living and wants to be left alone. However, he is hopeful of finding something worth living for. He talks about how badly he wants to quit, however he wants to live on in the hope that he will be happy in life. He also mentions how mankind is actually a curse to nature and causes a lot of harm to it. He refers to the masses as a 'vicious child' that nature never wanted. The singer is hoping for more in the future and is not satisfied with where he is. He says if this all he has and ever will, he'll leave today cause there is nothing left to keep him there. Regardless, of how he feels he knows that he must keep on moving in life in order to find purpose and direction. According to sources, Sam gave his insights on the band and the influence that growing up in New York had on his music. We're called the Bravery because that's the mindset I was in when I was writing the songs. Everyone in my age group wants to know what they're going to do with their lives. They all think that they're worth nothing and they're heading nowhere. People are drowning in these thoughts and I just got sick of it. I didn't want to be like that. The name is also connected with living in New York in this really weird time. People are constantly waiting for something bad to happen. I wrote these songs and formed this band to make sure I didn't get overcome by that sense of fear. That's what this band is about--standing tall and not being afraid. Sam Endicot Overall, the song is quite good. It is simple in terms of lyrics and melody yet very pleasing to listen to. The Bravery might release new music in the future, now that they are together so do check out their channel to know updates regarding them. Let me know how you found this song in the comments below.

[defensefilms]

Kansas City Chiefs Win The Superbowl

"The Colin Kaepernick curse is real"

The 49ers, had a 10-0 lead at half, and no doubt they they were the better team in the 1st half.

I'm definitely not a fan of the Kansas City Chiefs, but it was inspiring watching Chris Jones on the sidelines rallying the players together for a pep talk, when both the offense and the defense were looking frustrated and how they would rally at half time.

The fumble on special teams in the 3rd quarter was a massive gash after a 3rd quarter where the Chiefs stopped making the mental errors of the 1st half, and that touchdown pass by Mahomes to Valdes-Scantling to put take the lead at 13-10 was the beginning of a cascade for the 9ers.

The 9ers would manage to get a touchdown, but the issue was having the extra point blocked on the next play, and boy did that turn out to be costly, because that 1 point was the reason the game had to go into overtime with the score at 16-16.

It may have takeb until the last drive of OT but Mahomes' pass to Mecole Hardman ultimately gave KC the Superbowl and congrats to KC but I want to dedicate the last part of this blog to the San Francisco 49ers.

See, I'm a big believer in karma. I'm a big believer in what goes around comes around, even if you have to make it come around.

While I am not a Chiefs fan, I do get to revel in the moral victory of no having to listen to 9er fans tell me that "Brock Purdy is elite because he just is".

Among the annoying most annoying narratives going in to this Superbowl, was the one that surrounded Brock Purdy, and whether he is indeed an elite NFL quarterback, and this one really irritated me to no f******g end.

Brock Purdy getting to an NFC championship game and then losing the Superbowl the following year, basically puts his resume on par with Colin Kaepernick, but do you think 9er fans are willing to accept that line of reasoning?

Of course not, because the elephant in the room with 9ers is that they wanted a starting quarteback that not only plays traditionally, but also reminds them of themselves, and as little of Colin Kaepernick as possible.

A few weeks ago, former NFL MVP Cam Newton was verbally abused when he made the distinction between game-managers and game changers.

Anybody that watched that Superbowl in overtime will know exactly what Cam Newton meant.

Mahome's ability to run, is what set him apart from Purdy, and it's the reason he got his team in to the endzone when it mattered the most and for 9er fans, they have to face the disparity and difference between what they believe, and what's actually true.

And lastly, boy-wonder, and poster child for NFL nepotism, Kyle Shanahan, has lost a 2nd Superbowl as head coach of the 9ers, and I expect plenty of criticism about his play calling, but how long can the San Francisco media continue to cover for this guy?

For now, I'll revel in both the moral victory and the real one on the field.

[mitaukano]

I'm gonna take a second to plug a more recent series of books by Laurence Yep and his wife Joanne Ryder "A Dragon's Guide to the Care and Feeding of Humans"

There are about three books and it's basically about a lonely old dragon who drinks tea, and eats cakes, and occasionally has pet humans. It's very cute! I'm also going to plug ANYTHING else Laurence Yep has written cause the man said as a child "I love Dragons" and just RAN with it in his literary career. "Dragon of the Lost Sea" by Laurence Yep is the story of a Dragon Princess whose homeland was stolen by a witch and her people enslaved by her uncle, she is helped out by an Orphan Kitchen boy. There are four books in this series, and I mean it has Sun Wukong (sort of) in this series, and uses a lot of Chinese mythology.

"City of Fire" by Laurence Yep

An alternate history San Francisco with Dragons in disguise, cursed reincarnated princes, amazonian princesses and Pele. Yes, that Goddess Pele!

So what I'm saying, go try out some lesser known authors out there. Laurence Yep is one of the most prolific Authors you have NEVER heard of and by god this man as been making diverse books since I was a kid in the 1980s and he tricked me into reading a Historical Fiction which sparked my entire love of reading.

I don't know about you guys but i really miss seeing "high fantasy" dragons in media, high fantasy dragons are like Smaug (The Hobbit), Draco (DragonHeart), Saphira (Eragon) and Spyro (Spyro the Dragon games franchise) for example, they have their own free will and cannot be controlled, they are highly intelligent and capable of speaking and even writing or drawing. It seems the version of dragons that has taken over is the animalistic and realistic version, that are basically huge dogs that can breath fire, bring back intellectual dragons that like to make riddles to fool intruders, bring back grumpy dragons that live isolated from everyone but they are actually lonely and in need of a friend, bring back the loyal and brave dragons that are willing to sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love, dragons that will talk to you about the mysteries of the world and the universe, JUST BRING BACK HIGH FANTASY DRAGONS GODDAMIT

[steffen-dilfrael]

Übrigens, wilder Kraftklub related Traum letzte Nacht.

Ich war in San Francisco und bin dort Felix, Steffen, Gwen und Karl begenet und sie wollten grade schwimmen gehen. Ich bin dann meiner Wege gegangen und rüber nach Sausalito. Auf dem Rückweg bin ich dann über die golden gate bridge (warum auch immer ich das getan hab, das sind 3km steil bergauf). Unten haben dann da Felix, Steffen, Karl und Gwen grad gebadet und Gwen hat mich dazu gewunken. Da war son kleinen beach hüttchen und Felix hat grad aufgeleget und Steffen wollte surfen. Ich hab Felix auf Kiox angesprochen und er hatte zufällig eine CD dabei und mir geschenkt! Dann bin ich weiter gegangen und es war auf einmal ne wilde verfolgungsjagd ohne Kraftklub

Sie haben da gebadet wo das kreuz ist. Da ist kein Strand da ist ne Steilklippe und das hat mich im traum so verwirrt. Der stand ist auf der anderen Seite der Brücke

Ausserdem, ich Träume öfter von der Golden Gate Bridge, meistens die Sausalito Seite aber sonst ist es meistens eine Insel raus zur Meer Seite (also nicht Alcatraz) auf der das Curran Theatre steht (steht eigentlich downtown), wo das cursed child knapp 2h aufgeführt wurde.