#which is only 3-4 chapters long I shouldn’t be spoiling it

[uefb]

my god writing Newt & Jacob is my favorite

out-of-context, post-meltdown moments for this story

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 46

chapter 70:

1. “And now the furniture is covered in dust, the books haven't been touched, the flowers are dead, the food has spoiled, and all the little pieces of himself from before feel foreign to him, like they're from a complete stranger.”

why did i blindly hope that crimson rivers couldn’t get more sad??

2. “Regulus couldn't have imagined it, then. Barty dying. Being dead. He was safe, aged out from reapings, and he would have made it if the war hadn't taken him.”

i want to gnaw on something. this is driving me crazy. i need to go eat dirt oh my god

3. every time i briefly forget about evan in this fic, his name is name dropped like a fucking bomb from the sky and i literally want to break a window

4. “And then there's Sirius, who barely knows what to do with his own pain, struggling to balance it, like he's not allowed to have it, feeling like an imposter for simply daring to grieve a man who wasn't his father as a father, as if that man didn't love him as a son.” the monty and sirius bond are still making me cry, actually

5. “I know I will be dead long before you read this,”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

once again, had to voice memo my freind

6. welcome back to another round of lily vs the fridge

7. mary: you love dorcas

lily: NOOO!!! only you babes 😘

mary: fucking dumbass

8. idk how to explain it, but i’m glad that mary and lily (and dorcas and marlene) had such complex relationships. they weren’t just the badass lesbians who had it all together and had a perfect relationship that scoffed at the silly boys. they love just as hard and fumble just as hard. their relationships are far from perfect and are very messy. i love it

9. “His dad watched these flowers bloom.

His dad never saw them die.”

*eye twitch*

10. maybe i shouldn’t blame dorcas, but i’m kinda pissed at her for not showing up to marlene’s funeral

11. “Barty got a funeral, too. Regulus planned that one, and you could tell, because it was done so delicately.”

screaming crying throwing up

what if i never spoke again? as like some sort of stupid protest? as like a statement to show how upset i am over bartys death? huh?? what would you do then bizzarestars????? huh?????????

12. “Vanity got honored as a war hero in the Hallow, a statue raised in her honor on the castle grounds, replacing Riddle's legacy.” i’m actually losing my mind. i want to shovel grass in my mouth and chew stained glass. idk or drink a latte or something

13. bro i’m so mad that sirius was 100% right about how james wouldn’t grieve around him, always wanting to take care of sirius, which is why he has to leave. i’m so mad. i’m so mad. this is gonna hurt

14. “”Fucking hell, James, we're still in love, so calm down. It's—it's not an actual breakup, you know."” -sirius

😭😭😭 they’re such soulmates omg

15. oh god it hurt more than i thought. james thought sirius was about to break the news about remus leaving. not sirius leaving. james never once considered that sirius would leave

16. SNSKDNJSNSMSKSM THEYRE KISSING YAY OMG JEGULUS KISSS OMGGG AFTER LITERALLY TWO MONTHS THEYRE KISSING AGAIN

chapter 71:

1. “[Regulus] is such a sweet boy, and yes, yes, [Effie] has seen him murder, but that matters very little to her, overall” me talking about my favorite characters 🥰

2. wolfstar

currently wanting to gnaw through concrete and plywood over them

3. “Remus also calls Lily every day. They're more discreet about it, not practically confessing their love and trying to make out through the screen the way James and Sirius do”

remus: this is my boyfreind sirius, and that’s my boyfreind’s boyfreind, james ♥️

4. remus thinking of sirius as a helicopter parent towards regulus has me in fucking tears omg that’s so funny

5. “That's the first time they have sex after the war, when Remus tells Sirius how he made Riddle pay for all that he'd done.”

idk, but that’s not the sentence i was expecting

6. 😭😭😭 remus realizing that lyall never liked any of his ex boyfreinds, and the fact that he approves of sirius, the murderer, is laughable

7. jealous sirius kissing remus within an inch of his life 😭😭😭

8. “It's no secret that Sirius likes the hickies, but it's not just him; the truth is, the only thing Remus likes more than getting to put them there is getting to see them there.”

uhhh um uhhhhh hot

9. 👀 they getting nasty

10. james being a teacher >>>>>>>>>>>

11. what are sirius and regulus gonna get up to?

12. it’s heartbreaking that lily and mary have to raise bingley. on one hand, it’s domestic and it’s their little family. on the other hand, they never should have had to do this. lily cooks and tucks him into bed and raises him. but she’s not his mom. and mary raises bingley. but she’s not his mom. and it’s so scary to navigate this

13. THE BAGELS

14. james’ knife kink >>>>>>>>>

15. omg i’m a blubbering mess. they have a home together!!!

16. hello!???? they’re dancing together????? in their home?????? what if i burst into tears?????

17. AWWWWW JAMES PROPOSED AGAIN

18. please please please please tell me we get a marriage chapter

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn found a stack of neatly laid gowns waiting for her when she returned from the library. He’d lounged in a chair like a bored, spoiled prince, watching her catalog the paltry books Kai had arranged for her to have access to.

Looking at her list, Gwyn found nothing of use. Most of it centered around female troubles—childbirth, raising children, and ailments that seemed to afflict females only. Did the royals at Montessere genuinely think she’d come all this way to learn about midwifery? Gwyn had to reign in her frustration. This was not her area of study and though she’d always wanted children, she doubted she’d ever have them.

Azriel didn’t return with her, nor did he bother to explain where he was going. He merely left her with a babysitter. One of his shadows, perched on her shoulder with what she assumed was curiosity.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked it, watching as it slithered toward the neatly made bed to examine the dresses. No doubt these were a gift from the prince and not wearing one would be a snub, but…

Gwyn took a breath. “Out there,” she said, pointing toward the common room she and Azriel shared. She didn’t know if he could see through his shadows, and didn’t need the added embarrassment of him knowing what she looked like naked. And she certainly didn’t want him to see her in the dress if she choose to risk Kai’s wrath and not wear it.

His shadow balked, but eventually slithered away, pausing just outside the doorframe. Gwyn slammed it shut, though she felt a small prick of guilt. Enough that she murmured, “It’s not personal.”

After all—it wasn’t the shadows fault it was attached to Azriel. 

Carefully, Gwyn pulled her sisters evoking stone from where it hid in her pocket and let it lay on the bed beside the gowns. They were all cut in a similar style, with the laced, corset bodice and the straps that would hold it to her shoulders white delicate fabric hung against the tops of her arms. It would create a very specific shape—one she wasn’t certain she had. 

And Kai had sent nearly every color. No pink, she assumed because of her red hair, but greens and purples and blues. Darker, warmer colors that would compliment her fair skin. The fact he’d put any thought into it at all was confusing. Generous and unwanted, all at once. Gwyn didn’t know what to make of it and wished Nesta was with her to explain his intentions. 

Maybe she’d write a letter.

Gwyn shimmied into the amethyst dress, sucking in a breath before doing her laces. She didn’t pull them tight, and had to admit it was comfortable enough. There were pockets, which meant she wouldn’t be without her sister, which was the one thing she found intolerable. Turning to the mirror, Gwyn was surprised to find she did have a shape, even if the gown created it for her. Her body curved gently, while the corseted top gently pushed the tops of her breasts upwards toward her collarbone. A necklace would have drawn anyones attention to them immediately, which convinced Gwyn not to wear one.

She opened the door, tugging at her skirt for the shadow to look, which she spoke the language Azriel had mastered if only to get its genuine opinion. If shadows even cared about such things. 

“It’s…a lot,” she finally managed, embarrassed by how she looked and how she felt about her appearance. She shouldn’t care…but turning back to her reflection, she thought she looked good. Pretty, even, which she wasn’t supposed to care about. All Gwyn was supposed to worry about was serving the mother goddess, though she’d known plenty of more established priestesses who’d primped and preened—who’d cared for their appearance and how they presented themselves to the people they were attracted to. 

Catrin cared, a traitorous voice reminded her. 

A knock on the door pulled Gwyn from her thoughts. The shadow, once ribboning around her neck, vanished so quickly she thought she’d imagined its presence. Gwyn lunged for her sisters evoking stone, sliding into her pocket as the person on the other end entered her bedroom without waiting for her to respond. She met Kai in the lounge, wishing Azriel was with her.

Was Kai supposed to be here? Smiling, he said, “Oh good. You found my gift.”

Gwyn tugged at the sleeve tapered against her hand, wishing suddenly she’d snubbed him. “It was incredibly generous for—”

“It was nothing,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. He kept his eyes on her face, extending a pale, slim hand toward her. Gwyn didn’t want to take it, if only because everything about him felt too possessive. 

She did, though, because this was a job and Gwyn wasn’t going to prove anyone right about her. Not Merril.

Not Azriel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling her hand into the crook of his elbow. She was, and there seemed no danger in admitting as much.

“Yes. Starving, actually.”

He smiled again—a genuine thing that made him appear alive and handsome. There was color to his cheeks and a vibrancy to his eyes that made her wonder why he hadn’t snagged some pretty female for a wife. What was he waiting on, she wondered? 

“You’ll get to meet most of the court and their wives,” he said, taking for granted that his court was made up entirely of males. It was that simple sentence that grounded Gwyn. He was handsome and not for her. A prince's attention was flattering, certainly, if it amounted to anything more than being kind to foreigners at court. But she could see what a future with him would entail—a quiet consort, pretty and sweet as she raised his young without much more. And while Gwyn certainly didn’t begrudge anyone who wanted that future, it was not one she hoped for herself.

“Will your…friend…be joining us?” he continued, oblivious to the slant of her thought. It was amusing to hear Azriel called her friend. She doubted he’d consider himself that, though there was also a question within that question.

What is he to you?

She was content not to answer it. Let them imagine whatever scenario they liked. “I would imagine he is.”

“Are there…many…like him, where you come from?”

Rhysand hadn’t said she couldn’t share that information, so Gwyn nodded. “Yes. Wings are fairly common in Prythian.”

“Among High Fae?” Kai questioned in a tone she didn’t quite care for. Because, no, they weren’t, and surely Kai would have known that. She wondered why it mattered, though it very obviously did.

“I guess we’re not as concerned about those distinctions in Prythian,” Gwyn lied. She knew some courts, like Night and Dawn and Summer were more progressive, but others very clearly looked down on people like Azriel, who were Illyrian and not High Fae. She’d heard from Nesta how Eris Vanserra often referred to Cassian as a low-born brute. 

Is that what Kai thought of Azriel? If he did, he had enough tact not to say so. “Interesting,” was what he said instead. “It seems we have a lot to learn from each other.”

“You met Morrigan, didn’t you?” she blurted out without thinking.

A shadow passed over Kai’s face, twisting his features for only a moment. Gone was the lovely, moon-lit prince, replaced with someone ugly and cold and cruel. She blinked and he was back, smiling tightly. “In Vallahan, yes. She was…quite the character. The High Lord’s cousin, is she not?”

“She is,” Gwyn confirmed.

Kai only grunted, leading Gwyn toward a pair of carved, double doors. Gwyn’s steps slowed at the sight of a figure cut in the wood, sword raised while someone just beneath raised up their hand in a futile attempt to stop the coming blow. It was a gruesome picture made worse by Kai’s grin.

“A long dead ancestor of mine,” he said, reaching for the handle of the door. “Evocative, isn’t it?”

Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that, and was spared by a cold, deep voice replying, “He lost his own head, didn’t he?”

They whipped around to find Azriel, wings spread casually behind his body as he approached. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that told Gwyn whatever he’d been up to had been successful. That look shifted as he took her in, eyes sliding down her body and too late, she’d forgotten she’d put on a Montessere style dress. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her face, his expression utterly blank. Beside Gwyn, Kai ground his teeth loudly.

“He did.”

“To Vallahan, if I remember correctly?” Azriel needled, coming closer. He turned those brutal, piercing eyes wholly on Kai who seemed to shrink beneath it. She hadn’t realize how much taller Azriel was until that moment, but Kai seemed to come to his knees when Azriel pulled himself up to his full height. Between the two, there was no comparison—Azriel could have wiped Kai from the face of the world with one backhanded blow. 

Why did that thought please her so much? 

“Is there a reason you’re bringing this up?” Kai demanded, placing his hand over Gwyn’s. Azriel caught it, eyes sharpening with lethal interest. She wanted to pull away and didn’t, too afraid she’d signal the wrong thing. They weren’t interested in her at all—this was all posturing, all pure male bullshit. 

Azriel shook his head, causing a lock of his thick, dark to fall against his eyes. “Just want to make sure Gwyn understands the geo-politics of this place.”

“I doubt she needs to concern herself with such things,” Kai dismissed, all but withering beneath Azriel’s cruel smile.

“Oh? Do you doubt that? I don’t.”

Gwyn cleared her throat. She didn’t know how she’d ever explain this moment to Rhysand. She had the worst feeling if Azriel couldn’t reign it in, they’d be facing a different sort of war. “I’m still hungry,” she announced in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had arisen between Kai and Azriel. “If you two are done, I think I’d like to go eat.”

And then, for good measure, she slipped her arm from Kai’s grip. Azriel exhaled, inclining his head toward the doors. Turning back, Gwyn found herself far more settled knowing that the king about to kill that man had died in the same brutal fashion.

And inwardly, she cursed Azriel for being the one to help soothe her. He hadn’t know, had he? She stepped through the doors first, feeling him just at her back. Kai, thwarted and clearly irritated, made his way ahead toward a high table at the far end of the dark, cavernous room. Huge chandeliers made of sparkling crystal lit the space, throwing long shadows over the onyx marble floors. As usual, the tall windows were covered by thick, velvet curtains that made the air seem to shimmer with heat. Azriel skimmed his hands against her spine, lowering his head.

“What are you wearing?” he whispered, leading her toward a small, round table at the furthest end of the room. As usual, everyone did a double take as they passed, stunned by his perfect features. It was starting to annoy her. 

“A gift,” she said, swallowing her fear that he hated it and was about to say so. Gwyn yanked out her chair, sitting before he could do something stupid like pull it out. Behind her, Gwyn could feel Kai’s eyes on her back though she didn’t dare turn around.

Azriel sat across from her, wincing at the hard back against his wings. “I thought it might be Nestas,” was all he said in response. That was a best case scenario, she decided. He hadn’t complemented her, at least. She didn’t know what she would have done if he did.

“I found the library in the city,” he added after a moment, nodding his head when a servant slithered by to place plates and metal covered dishes before them. The chatter in the room obscured his voice well enough, though Gwyn wasn’t stupid enough to think they weren’t being watched by more than just the royal family.

“I’ll wait for Kai to show me,” she said dismissively, too focused on cataloging the courtiers around them to notice the male in front of her.

She’d irritated him. “Great. I’ll let Rhysand know I’m hardly needed here. Perhaps he’ll reassign me,” Azriel bit out, pushing away from the table abruptly.

Gwyn huffed out a sigh. “Sit back down.”

But he didn’t. Azriel turned, his face all but carved from stone. She wanted to go after him—to explain more than just her dismissive remark, but everything. As if that would matter, she reminded herself bitterly. As if him knowing everything would change the way he looked at her, the way he acted. So Gwyn let him go, resigning herself to eating in silence.

And though a multitude of wives came to talk with her the moment Azriel vanished, Gwyn’s thoughts were stuck on Azriel.

Moreso when she returned to their shared room, joined by that same friendly shadow he had trailing her. Floating around her bed doing little joyful backflips, Gwyn found a rich azure bound book waiting for her.

Montessere, Vallahan, and Rask: A History of Treatsies from Gwydion to Armand. 

Gwyn sighed.

He’d gifted her a book.

AZRIEL:

Azriel had found the perfect spot to hide among the disconcerting Monstesseran palace. That spire, stretching to a steepled point high above the sky, obscured him from anyone who might peer upward and gave him a perfect view of the city and beyond. Behind him lay the sea and his home that he was missing more by the second, and in front of him was the city of Vignon, which had nothing on Velaris. Azriel had been taken aback by the suffering he’d stumbled upon and a king who’d shut himself away, sealing himself from his people and their problems. There was great wealth alongside the poverty, without much in between, and in between it all lay the library of Montessere. It was paltry in comparison to home, and laughable to someone like Gwyn, and still it housed far more than the embarrassment she’d been provided in the palace.

And she didn’t even want to see it without the prying eyes of the prince. That bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Knees drawn to his chest, Azriel forced himself to take a cool breath of night air, calming his raging temper. If he went back to their shared room, he was certain he’d find himself in another heated exchange with the priestess.

She was under his skin and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. That stupid dress and her stupid hand on his stupid arm…Azriel wanted to roar at the prince and then shake her. Didn’t she have any sense? Couldn’t she see what he wanted from her? He was too possessive already, his scent wrapped around her like thorny vines. She was going to give him the wrong idea and they’d have an international incident on their hands.

It wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. And he was too worked up, too emotional. It wasn’t even Gwyn’s fault—not really. He was still tangled up about the revelation about Mor and Elain’s anger and the constant threat of Lucien and…and that godsdamned dress. 

Azriel rose to his feet, about to leap off and take to the skies when a whisper from his shadows stopped him.

She’s in bed reading the book.

How did the Queen get up here without wings? 

Azriel halted, turning in a half circle. This was the spire the king and Kai had said the queen had leapt from…but how? He’d flown, courtesy of the wings at his back, but the stairs only trailed up to a balcony far, far below him. Would that jump kill an immortal? He jumped, his wings ballooning in the wind to guide him lower and lower, until he was level with that balcony. It was still a far jump…but Azriel didn’t think it was fatal.

Maybe for a human, with their fragile bones and useless blood. But for someone as long-lived as a faerie queen? No, he decided. She’d need to go to the very top and let the wind take her to the sharp rocks against the shore line, where the obsidian would have cut through her spine and stopped her heart. 

“Find out what the courtiers know,” Azriel murmured against the wind, letting his shadows pick up the command. He very much doubted the well-bred Montesseran courtiers were going to engage in a little gossip with the likes of him. As Azriel made his way to the ground, and with great hatred, he tried to think of what Vanserra would do.

Seduce them, the stupid bastard.

He was shit at pillow talk. He didn’t want to know their thoughts, only what their pussy tasted like. And the only words he wanted to hear were more and please and oh gods, untie me. 

Still, he didn’t wholly dismiss it. If all else failed, Azriel would pick out the most miserable looking wife and work a little charm and then…well. He’d figured it out, he reasoned. If Vanserra could manage it, how difficult could it be? 

Azriel returned to the room he was sharing with Gwyn to find her door closed tight. Fine, he thought, though the sight of it irked him. Two of his shadows slithered off, leaving him with just two more of the five he had in totality. He could feel them watching, wishing they, too, could join in whatever frivolity was happening in Gwyn’s room.

“Go,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do, besides. His shadows zipped off, vanishing beneath the crack in Gwyn’s door.

“Oh, hello,” he heard her say with clear and obvious delight. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand to know where her enthusiasm for him was, but Azriel leashed it. He didn’t need another reminder that she hated the mere sight of him. Hated him so much that she couldn’t be bothered to tell him what he’d done to make her stop training with him. 

Azriel sighed, closing his door silently. He’d wracked his brain before and wouldn’t let it torment him tonight. Not when he needed to forget everything stressing him out so he could focus on doing his job and not getting himself killed. Azriel stripped off his leathers, rolling his shoulders when the heavy, thick armor was off his tight skin. He needed a bath more than anything, but it would have to wait—at least, for now. Azriel unlaced his boots before undoing his pants with a frustrated grunt. Why was he wearing battle-ready clothing in a place where no one seemed to be armed? He’d switch to a tunic which would be a little more functional and far easier to get at the thing he wanted, which so happened to be his cock. 

Azriel flopped back on the bed with a groan, stretching his tired, aching muscles. It felt like a week had passed when in reality, it had been only one day. What would he be like in a week? He’d need a vacation—something Rhys had been begging him to take for centuries. He’d never wanted one before Gwyn.

He wanted one now, though he had no fucking idea where he’d go. Somewhere quiet and cold—maybe high up in the mountains in Dawn, where he could have some peace…and would be bored within a day. He’d be crawling back to Rhys before nightfall, begging for something to do.

Or slithering back into the River House so he could listen to Nyx’s raucous giggling and Feyre’s shrieks as she chased him around. That, he decided, was music to his ears. Azriel had never had much to say and didn’t like to draw attention to himself, but he liked being in the presence of others who did talk—who smiled and laughed and made him feel like he was part of something special. 

He missed home, he decided, one hand on his thigh. It seemed wrong to touch himself while he was missing his friends and family so Azriel took a breath and cleared his head of thoughts of home and tried to focus on the last person who touched him because they wanted him. He hadn’t known her name, of course. He so rarely did. But she’d been beautiful and attentive and after the revelation with Mor, Azriel had needed someone to take his mind off his self-loathing and misery.

How had he missed something that, in retrospect, felt obvious? Settling himself against soft pillows, his wings draped on either side of him, Azriel reached for his flaccid cock and gave it a stroke. His body responded immediately, rising with each new pump against the memory of that female on her knees, licking up the length of his cock. He could still recall his hand fisted in her hair coppery brown hair, could remember the way her teal eyes—

“Fuck,” he growled. Her hair had been blonde, her eyes green. “Focus.”

But his body wasn’t inclined to listen because right then, all Azriel could feel were Gwyn small, lithe hands pressed against his lower stomach as she demanded he move. His hips bucked off the bed, attempting to comply with the request. He could smell her, too—viola and cinnamon, eyes on her mouth and— “No,” he hissed, refusing to complicate this mission by stroking himself to Gwyn’s beautiful face. She hated him. He wasn’t terribly fond of her, either. 

But Azriel was strung tight now, pleasure coiling hotly through his stomach before settling in his balls as release had begun to gather. His hand never stopped even when his mind tried to put him back where he’d started—with the female that lacked a gag reflex. She’d swallowed him root to tip, tears blurring in teal eyes and—

“Oh for Cauldron’s sake!” he exploded, yanking his hand away from his throbbing cock. What was wrong with him? 

Azriel took a breath, skin humming for him to continue. Stop thinking about Gwyn. He hadn’t thought of her in months. He didn’t need to think of her now, either. Resettling himself and closing his eyes, Azriel fisted his cock once more. And for a moment, it worked. He was focused on the memory of that female’s tongue gliding over the head of his cock, building higher and higher until—

“Azriel? Are you awake?” Gwyns soft voice on the other end of the door called, breathless and sweet.

Azriel came all over his hand, his mind emptied of everything else. He couldn’t say a word, so focused on not letting her hear him finish to the sound of his name on her lips. 

Oh, gods, he thought to himself. He couldn’t stop, his release coating his thigh and hands as wave after wave of pleasure made his body shake. It felt as though she’d pulled it out of him like a fish on a hook and the violence both overwhelmed and excited him.

He couldn’t remember the last time touching himself had felt that good.

Maybe it never had. 

Composing himself as he came down, Azriel cleared his throat. “Yes,” he called, praying she didn’t open the door as he hastily swung his body off the bed to retreat into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you put a dagger under my pillow?”

Guilt pricked at his chest. “Yes.”

He should have asked.

There was a soft pause, and then— “Thank you.”

Azriel exhaled, ignoring the kernel of pleasure that bloomed in his gut. Turning on the tap, to wash away his sins, Azriel called back, “It was nothing.”

He didn’t go out into the common area. She’d scent his arousal and know what he’d been doing—and though she wouldn’t know she was the subject of his fantasies, Azriel would. So he turned the bath on until the water was scalding, well aware Gwyn had padded away, though this time he didn’t hear her door click shut.

And Azriel decided that was progress.

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 5: December, 1899 (Continued)

[1][2][3][4]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

3,848 Words (AO3 Link)

It was too early. Much too early. It wasn’t long ago where Arthur wasn’t phased by waking up as the sun crept into the sky. Just a cup of usually sub-par coffee and he was good to go. Then again, it also wasn’t that long ago where he was contented sleeping under a tarp open to the air and elements, on an old cot with a shitty inch thick pad for a mattress and nothing else. He often did it fully clothed to roll out and get going on whatever harebrained scheme or errand Dutch thrust upon him. When they could finally escape from Colter, settling the camp at Horseshoe Overlook, Uncle had remarked on the way to Valentine with the girls in the wagon that Arthur was ‘going soft’. Maybe it was true, given he stopped and helped a stagecoach driver who wrecked outside the town get one of the horses back, but he imagined the old man’s remarks if he saw what Arthur lived currently lived like. In a few short months, Ana had spoiled him. Tamed him. Civilized him.

The breakfast on the table was something Ana could whip up quick. They were thick tortillas stuffed with ground beef, fresh cheese, tomatoes, and corn. Ana sat listlessly with coffee. The only one fully awake was the boy, buzzing in his seat. He was the first in his outerwear, the first out the door, bringing Delfina and a horse to pull the flatbed sleigh.

“Can I ride with Mr. Callahan, Mama?” Arthur Francisco cried with boundless energy.

“If he’s okay with it, sure.” Ana mumbled crawling into the sleigh driver seat as Arthur attached the horse.

The boy looked at Arthur beggingly with his bright and youthful blue eyes… Which, in all honesty, made Arthur uncomfortable sometimes, “Yeah, come on.”

He picked up and put Arthur Francisco onto the back of Delfina, lifting himself into the saddle.

“It’s a bit of a ride, but if everything goes well we’ll be back by lunchtime.” Ana said, “Arthur Francisco will navigate and I’ll follow behind. The game trails are pretty wide so we shouldn’t need to carry the tree far.”

With that, they headed West into the dense forest, farther and farther away from what little civilization there was. Delfina whinnied indignantly as Arthur urged her through the high snow drifts. Arthur patted her on the neck, trying to soothe her with soft and comforting words through the cigarette between his teeth. The sunlight broke through the tall evergreens in the dense forest in brilliant beams. There was no sound except the heavy breathing of the horses and the babble of a creek flowing under ice nearby. The isolation was a familiar comfort for Arthur, as well as something that heightened his guard. He gripped the end of his repeater, his ear pricking at any crunch of the ground or snapping of twigs. There was so much lurking. Wolves, cougars, all were hungry and mean this time of year.

Arthur and the boy wandered ahead. Arthur Francisco waited until his mother was out of earshot, chewing on his lip, “Can I ask you a question, Mr. Callahan?”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, “Sure, kid.”

“Did you and Mama meet before? She acts like she’s known you a long time.”

“We did, yeah.” Arthur explained, “We were both real young. That was a long time ago. You wasn’t born yet.”

Arthur Francisco quietly considered things before pushing on, “Does that mean you know who my father is?”

Arthur slowed Delfina to a walk. His stomach felt like it did a nauseating flip. He cleared his throat, mouth going dry, “What you mean? Ain’t that the feller your Mama married?”

Arthur Francisco shook his head, “No.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well… I figured it out when I was little. Jacob was good to me, we had fun together before he got sick, so didn’t ask Mama until after he died. She told me the truth.”

“I see… She ever tell you anythin’ about him?”

“Not really. She says I’m like him, is all. She doesn’t talk about him much. I think it makes her sad. Like she misses him.”

“Well, your Mama had went through a lot of nasty things,” Arthur said, swallowing hard, “I’m sure when you’re older, she’ll tell you things you need to know.”

Arthur Francisco sighed, “Yeah. She said they did bad things to survive once. I just hope he’s still out there.

Arthur stammered, “Y-yeah… I do too.”

The trail ended at the rocky foot of the mountain range. Arthur hitched Delfina to a fallen log when Ana caught up. They trekked the rest of the way on foot. In the spring and summer it might not have taken long, but with the buildup it was a challenge the entire way. Except for Arthur Francisco who bounded through the snow and making a fairly even path for Arthur and Ana to follow. At the bottom of a ridge there was a cluster of young fir trees. Arthur looked to Ana. He didn’t really know what qualities a perfect Christmas tree comprised of.

Ana carefully inspected each of them in the group. She compared their heights to her own, reaching to touch the very tips. She scrutinized their widths, so that it could fit through the door into the house. She took of a glove and felt the cold needles with her bare hands, seeing which ones were soft and not sharp and prickly. She lightly bent a branch or two, determining how sturdy they were for the weight of the things that was going to be put on them. She even smelled them, so the scent wouldn’t be unpleasant. Once she settled on the best one she checked with her son. He agreed with high enthusiasm.

“Okay!” Ana called out, “I’ll hold onto it. Arthur, you’re the strongest so I think you should start cutting it. Leave a little for Arthur Francisco to do, so he can learn.”

Arthur started sawing it low and evenly to the ground. Once it was three quarters of the way, Arthur Francisco took over. He helped Ana keep the tree in place, so when it was free it wouldn’t topple onto her. Together they all carried it to the sled, covering it with a large canvas sheet and tying it down with heavy ropes. The boy did everything he could to assist. He wasn’t as powerful as Arthur was, yet anyway, but he had an iron determination.

“That is beautiful! Good job you two!” Ana cheered, climbing back into her seat, “We’ve certainly earned Champurrado when we get home!”

Arthur smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. Ana recognized it when she gazed at him. She knew what it meant, like all those years before, there was a thought in his mind troubling him and he didn’t want anyone to notice it. She called over Arthur Francisco, convincing him to ride with her under the guise that he should watch to make sure the tree was okay as they started back. She didn’t dare inquire about it with her son around. She didn’t ask him, either. God… What had that boy said?

She looked at Arthur now and again as he rode beside them, with that look on his face when he was deep in thought. She was so close… But so, so far.

The house was a welcome relief. Ana sighed feeling warmth again, as they brought the tree into the living room and shoving the trunk into the tree stand waiting in front of the bay window. She rushed to close the door to keep the heat in. They stripped from their snow covered coats and hats, pulling off their wet and icy boots.

She heard her son say “it’s going to be so exciting to decorate!”. Arthur followed him, only replying with a half-there “mhm.”.

‘Christmas’ had a different meaning to Arthur. He couldn't remember what it was like when his mother was alive. When it was just him and his father it didn’t exist. With the gang it was just another night of drunken revelry around the campfire, with gifts of necessary items for him when he was still young. That later was the same with John. It didn’t have all that much importance until Jack was born, Abigail trying to give him some semblance of a normal childhood. Though even then, what he was given was limited.

It didn’t mean much to Ana when she was with them, either. Granted, she didn’t have the means or the ability. She was making up for it, with a mixture of things from her own country and the more familiar traditions found in America. On the walls were boughs of cedar that gave off a pleasant scent. Draped over the door frames and fireplace mantles was garlands of holly with bright red bows. On every table imaginable were vases filled with a flower with wide red petals from Mexico, Ana called them Nochebuenas. In every room there was some image of the Nativity, if not more than one. On top of the fireplace mantle was the most important one, figures carved from wood and painted, Ana adding the characters to it on certain days.

She opened a chest and pulled out multiple kinds of decorations. They wrapped a garland of glass, opalescent pearls around the tree. In an orderly pattern they hung colorful glass baubles, walnuts painted gold with ribbons at the wide end, handmade straw ornaments shaped like snowflakes, and seasonal paper graphics cut out of old cards on the branches. From the tip they draped paper chains and covered by a hollow skirted figure of the Virgin Mary holding the child Christ. It was like they were a family, admiring their work for a moment when it was finished.

Ana brought a tray of bowl-like cups filled with Champurrado, a sweet hot chocolate drink flavored with cinnamon. The boy sat on Ana’s lap. She tenderly wrapped a heavy quilt around him.

Heavy hearted, Arthur imagined Eliza and Isaac. He calculated how old would that boy even be now if he had lived. 13, maybe 14? He would be starting to become a man. What would he have looked like? The misfortune of resembling his father? Or the long, round face and kind eyes of his mother? He looked away, focusing on his drink, staring into the fire. He bottled it up as quickly as it came, the searing pain that tore through his mind and soul. He didn’t do enough for them. He told Eliza he would do what he could to do right by her and the child he helped create in an ill-thought moment of heartbroken passion. With their fate as it had become, he failed them.

Like a spectator he saw what he had always longed for. Like a fool, he threw every opportunity to have it away. All for the loyalty of the man who saved him, molded who he was, threw him away. Near him could have been Mary and whatever child they could have had if they had actually had ran away like they both wanted and even planned many times before. It could have been Eliza and Isaac if he hadn’t been an idiot and fully took responsibility. They would have lived.

He never let himself fully grieve.

God damn you, Dutch…

Arthur ended up drowning his demons the best way he knew. When things wound down, the boy in bed, Ana slipping into the dining room to wrap the gifts delivered to the house in the mail, he sought solace in a bottle of old unopened bourbon that was dusty and forgotten in the back of the kitchen cabinet. He ripped the yellowing label covering the plug with ease, jamming a knife into the cork and pulling it out. It made a loud popping sound with a short burst of visible fumes escaping the top. He put it to his lips, not bothering with a glass. He swallowed a quarter of the liquid in one go, burning down his throat. He hadn’t had a proper drink in so long. The warmth of it spread through his body, the effects quickly hazing his thoughts and vision.

Everything was destroying him. Every doubt and fear. The questions, the unknown. Why couldn’t he have just died? There was too much before him. What can he do? He never had a proper job before all this. What was he even really good at? Besides robbing and killing, that is.

He slammed the quickly empty bottle on the counter. With his inhibitions thoroughly suppressed he staggered into the dining room. He stopped at the entryway, Ana sat humming to herself while wrapping something in blue paper.

Through the fuzziness he saw her like she was when he was wild. The anger she had… It was so strong once, so fiery, there were times when she sat alone in the camp she shook with it. She was just as beautiful. A kind he only had for a brief moment in time that slipped from his grasp. They had once found comfort in each other. Heartbreak and pain melting away in one’s company, connected and entwined by limbs and a bed sheet. And one day… She was gone. She would never admit it, but he knew it was his fault somehow. It always was.

She was different now, as was he. Their anger became forlornness, but she had more to hold onto. She was a successful landlady with a group loyal to her as any gang would be. She was a mother.

A mother… To a boy… Ten years old with cerulean blue eyes.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He marched into the room, running into one of the fancy chairs. He held onto its back to keep himself upright. He stared at her through glossy, unfocused vision. Her brows furrowed with concern at the sight of antics. She opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur was first.

“That boy is mine, ain’t he?” He said with no hesitation.

Ana’s worry changed to seriousness. She looked down and sighed, “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

She motioned him to sit down, holding the chair’s arm steady as he wobbled against the table to do so.

“He is, yes.” She said.

All this time. All this time there was another child he had and barely knew. If he had any idea, so much could have gone differently. He could have made up for where he went wrong before. Some of the hole in his heart could have been filled. He felt so many things, anger, anguish, and sorrow.

“Is that…” Arthur sputtered, “Is that why you left…?”

Ana’s long silence terrified him.

“Yes and no. I had been thinking about it for a time before that. After Fernando was dealt with, I thought I’d feel better. Feel safe. Instead, I only felt hollow. All I knew was that life had tired me. I couldn’t do for much longer. All that was keeping me was you… And that fell apart when I saw you had a meeting with Mary.”

Ana reached over and squeezed his shoulder, bringing down her walls and letting her vulnerabilities be known for the first time in years, “And I’m not going to deny that it didn’t hurt me. Then, as fate tends to do in those instances, I found out I was pregnant. Miss Grimshaw, of all people, was the one who told me. I had been feeling ill for a few weeks. I was good at hiding that most of the time, but that day… I was helping Pearson with the cooking. I don’t know what it was I was cutting up, but the smell was awful. So I excused myself and walked into the forest. I threw up like I had been doing. I didn’t realize Susan had followed me. She confronted me, sat me down and asked me several questions. How long it had been going on, when my last cycle was, the last time we had intimate, then she told me. She was horrible about it. She called me so many names, I was surprised she didn’t beat me. That was the push I needed. That wasn’t the environment to raise a child in, I knew that first hand. Reluctantly I wrote a letter to Dutch thanking him for all he had done for me, dropped it into his tent, took what I had and packed it on Enrique, and off I went.”

Arthur buried his flushed face in his hands. He knew what she was talking about with Mary. He had no idea Ana had witnessed it, or how. She had asked to see him, to tell him in person she was going to be married to someone else. It was the last time he expected to lay eyes on her. There wasn’t anything inappropriate about it, they held hands and she kissed him on the cheek as goodbye.

He beat hit fist against the table, “I’m a goddamn idiot!”

“No… No you’re not. I knew where your love was from the beginning. I knew it would never be with me, and I respected that.” Ana replied, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Arthur Francisco sooner. It was selfish of me.”

She never forgot when Arthur got that letter. After Mary had broke things off due to her father’s pressure, Arthur had met a young waitress named Eliza. It was a one night stand, as far as Ana understood. She had never met Eliza, but she had somehow found where the gang was staying once her condition was apparent. Ana was the only one he told about it, stoic until they were alone and broke down into a full on panic attack. Eliza knew about his life and didn’t expect much from him, but he did as right by her and their child as best he could. He gave them money, he saw them for several days every three or four months. She was the only one he told when he returned and saw their graves. She never asked how he knew they died in a robbery. It was too painful.

Perhaps that’s where her selfishness came in. Her son was the only thing that kept her going, aside from the business. She would protect him with bullets and blood, if she had to kill or die for him so be it. She knew Eliza was different. She didn’t experience the violence she had. She was outmatched, and lost her life as a result. That would never happen to them, but she could only imagine Isaac waiting for his father. He probably asked all the time, so used to the irregularities of Arthur’s life. Ana couldn’t bring herself to put her own son in that situation. He asked enough as it was, but to have it change from “can you tell me anything about him?” to “when do you think he’ll be back to see us?” was too much. It would be like losing him again and again.

“I don’t blame you, Anie,” Arthur conceded, “after all, the ugly and savage bastard I am, I wouldn’t want the boy to end up like me either.”

Ana shook her head, “I wish I knew who convinced you of that. Because if I did I would kill them. I… I can’t show you how I see you. If I could I would make whatever trade with God or the Devil to do it.”

She couldn’t put the thought that this was in part Dutch and Hosea’s doing, despite her deep respect for both men. It may never have been intentional, Hosea repeatedly said Arthur was smarter than he tended to let on, but as they made the man what he was they also ruined him. If given the chance Arthur was and could be a much better man, in all regards compared to Dutch. It may have posed a threat to his authority, and in the end it did. If he wasn’t so loyal to the fault he could have easily gone on his own or simply taken things over after Blackwater started to unravel Dutch’s fragile sanity.

Her own emotions were much more simple. Where Arthur thought himself as ignorant, she recognized his intelligence. He may have never gone to school, but he was smart, a quick learner, competent and well rounded in his skills. Where he saw nothing but nastiness and ugliness in the mirror, to her even after a decade he was still the most handsome man in the world. If she could prove that to him, he would be able to have whatever he wanted, whoever he wanted.

“And before you ask why, it’s because I care about you.” Ana continued, “I want to see you succeed. I want you to be happy, you deserve that just as much as anybody else.”

“No-”

“Yes! I will do whatever it takes for that to happen! After Christmas, we will discuss what you could do next. If you want to stay here, which I would prefer for… Our son’s sake. There’s plenty of land around. You could easily stake a claim and build a homestead. I’ve been considering buying some farmland and if I did I would need someone to run the operation, I could offer that position to you. It would work like the general store, all profits are split 50/50 after paying the hands.”

Ana took a deep breath, “It will never be like with Mary, but find a bride. There’s many, many young women here looking for husbands. You would be considerably more preferable than most men. And… If you really still want to continue with the idea it’s Mary Gillis or no one… I will help you find her. She may not have heard the news. If you two are meant to be, she will come for you.”

Ana stood and dimmed the lights in the dining room. She helped Arthur into his room, making sure he was comfortable. She wished him goodnight, dimming the rest of the house on her way upstairs and him her own bedroom. She caught sight of herself in the mirror of her vanity. She picked up every one of her own flaws. The faint lines slowly appearing on her face as she aged, the scar above her upper lip from where her brother struck her wearing their father's ring and cutting her when she was 12, the faded and barely noticeable circular burns from cigars on her upper arm that traveled to her back underneath her nightgown.

She crawled into her bed, alone like she had since she became the lady of the house. Appearances aside, she called herself a fool for the lingering hope that it would work now that they were older. They simply weren’t meant to be. A pained ache bubbled in her chest. She closed her eyes as her tears fell. She locked the hope away.

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Nine

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 23k (have fun!!)

18+ MDNI!

Chapter Warnings: so we're hitting the ground running here - poppy is horny in abundance tbh so smut!! thigh riding, dry humping, unprotected p in v, she's just a girl who wants what she wants and who are we to judge or kink shame?? that's what I thought. and the rest of this chapter just has some lighthearted banter between two pals welcoming a baby into the world. mentions of anxiety, the usual. poppy is on edge because there's another jensen family dinner. nia being nia, the boys being the boys. if guys talking about women's hormones disturbs you look away now. jealous nico once again, a gender reveal!!!! the fluffiest one you ever did see to be honest. there's maybe a point in this where you could get second hand embarrassment but that's not my problem. honestly I've written this chapter so out of order I don't even know what else is in here or if it all links but you get what you're given atp.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Eight)

A/N: this is potentially my favourite chapter yet these two are so stinkin cute!!!! months ago I had a fleeting thought about a pregnancy pillow and wrote a little thing in my notes about it, and this whole fic so far (150k+ words shoutout all my yappers) has been bred from that single scene which is in this chapter. nine chapters to get the the first thought I ever had of Poppy and Nico. I really hope you guys like it and I'm sorry that this has been the longest between updates yet. hopefully a 20k chapter makes up for it. my plan was always 12 chapters but idk if it will end up being more but just the thought that this is potentially over in 3 or 4 chapters is CRAZY I'm so attached to these two idk what to do with myself!! also once again shoutout to rory @h1sch13r for always inspiring me when it comes to these two and little baby (pepper) cheeto I hope I can make up for spoiling the gender to you like an idiot weeks ago with how cute this reveal is lmao

Poppy

Poppy has given endless thought and mind space to the situation that might bring her and Nico back into some sort of intimate space, together.

A romantic, candle lit dinner, where she’s so in the moment that it only makes sense for them to turn it into something more - baby steps be damned, and he’d take her back to that huge bed of his that she loves so much and keep her there until she can’t function properly, anymore.

A movie night, cuddled up on the couch together, where them spooning ends up with his hand down her pants, or her on top of him as whatever scene flashes in the background, the movie long forgotten as they get lost in each other. 

She hadn’t given much thought to it happening in her office, with him finding her all pent up and frustrated after a long day, and he’s all freshly showered after training, his hair still damp and his t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places.

It’s a single look that has her throwing herself at him, hands cupping either side of his face to pull him down until he’s tired of craning his neck, and his hands lift her hips until he’s walking her back and planting her down on her desk.

He pushes at her skirt, pulls at her panties, and pops the buttons of her blouse, all while their mouths move around each other’s, gasps and groans falling between them and hands wandering everywhere they can possibly go. 

She tugs at his hair, bunches his t-shirt in her grip and leans into his every touch, falling back onto her palms when their lips part and moves to pepper kisses along her jaw.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispers as his lips press into her neck, pressure firm as the sensitive skin there gets sucked into his mouth, his stubble scratching into her skin in such a way that she opens up even more for him - head craning back, legs widening, hips pushing right to the end of her desk where his thigh presses between them.

“No?” He mutters into her, “You want me to stop?”

“No.” She pouts, and he chuckles against her flesh, the hot air from between his lips sending shivers all the way down her spine. “Of course I don’t want you to stop.”

He hums, pressing his thigh straight against her heat, and she grinds onto it through sheer instinct, seeking whatever pleasure he can give her and moaning out in response as soon as she feels the contact.

“Good girl,” he praises, swiping his chin against the skin he’s marked up until she hisses at the feeling, the prickly hairs on his jaw scraping against where she feels like she’s been rubbed red-raw.

It isn’t until he takes her jaw in his hand, pinching slightly to pull her toward him and slotting their lips together that her hips start to gyrate of their own accord, rubbing against his thigh without shame in the middle of her office, her nails clawing into the wood of her desk until she hopes they leave some sort of mark.

“That feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, a hand of his falling onto her hip to assist with the movements before he kisses her again.

She just hums against him, eyes screwed shut as she tries to savour the feeling when her clit presses straight against his thigh, his pants being the only barrier. 

“M’just gonna move you a little, yeah?”

She nods, mindlessly.

And then his hand is gripping at her thigh, fingers and thumb pressing into the flesh firmly to push her legs even further apart so that he can stand between them, and he unbuttons his jeans with his free hand until he can push them down. 

She can’t complain at the lack of friction when this is what she’s getting as a result.

She can see the firm outline of him through his briefs as she looks down between them, her mouth watering slightly just at the sight, until her view is obstructed by his face when he kisses her again.

She tilts her hips in anticipation, ready to meet him when he moves to push into her, but the feeling she gets instead is different. Similar to before, a layer of fabric sits between them as he presses his hips into hers, still not having undressed completely.

She whines, lips pouting so he’s kissing at them as they remain still, and he keeps at it, hips working into her own until he gets frustrated at her lack of response. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” He asks, pulling her hips forward himself until he’s right against her and she gasps, “Why’re you being pouty?”

“S’not enough,” she mumbles, “Need more.”

“Aw pretty girl,” he pouts himself, mockingly, “I’m not giving you what you need?”

She shakes her head.

“Thought this is what you wanted? To take things slow?”

“Not this.” She whines, her hand trailing down his abdomen, feeling the soft ridges even beneath his t-shirt, until they meet the elastic of his pants, snapping it teasingly against his skin. “Think you should fuck me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The smile he gives reads like a promise of everything to come, of all the dirty, sinful things he’s been waiting all this time to do for her, and she feels her heart jump and thud in response. 

He closes the distance again, so that she can’t see between them, his tongue lapping languidly against her own and she’s moaning into his mouth when she feels what she has been craving pressing against her entrance, pressing to slide up until it bumps against her clit and her back arches straight into him.

She feels sticky all over. Lightheaded and far-off like she isn’t even here, and when he finally pushes into her, she’s startled back into clarity.

The shrill beeping of her phone alarm rings on the nightstand right beside her head, and when her eyes adjust to the light, she feels tears of frustration well up in them at the realisation of what she’s just been deprived of.

She still feels sticky. Still feels lightheaded. Feels hot all over and tingly like she’s been left unsatisfied.

Only now, there’s no promise of any sort of reward for it.

She’s alone in her bed with nothing but a pillow for company, and she’s so exasperated she wants to scream.

Yet another cursed pregnancy dream she gets no form of relief or respite from.

She could honestly curse the Hischier genes if this is what they bring.

She’s tired of it, now.

Most of the time, she’s usually able to shake her dreams off as soon as she’s awake, but this one seems to linger in her mind, an ever-present heat creeping up her skin despite the fact she tries to wash it away in the shower.

She feels hot as she gets ready, feels hot as she drives to work, and even in her office, where she can turn on the AC and try to distract herself.

Only that doesn’t work, either. 

Obviously.

She’s brought herself to the one place that’s going to bring the whole picture back.

So she ventures upstairs to the supply closet, deciding to fill a box with everything she’s low on just to pass the time - to occupy her mind with something other than the thought of Nico, and him having her legs spread on top of her desk.

She’s closing up when she hears the distant call of her name.

“I’ll take that.” Luke appears seemingly out of nowhere as she’s in her own world, coming toward her before she really has a chance to do anything about it. “Can’t have you carrying these things on your own.”

“It’s not that heavy,” Poppy protests as he takes the box from her hands, clearly not believing her or expecting how light it would be when he takes it into his own. “Told you.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s best you don’t lift anything, too much work on your body could make your feet swell, and that might not go down. Did you know most women go up a shoe size when they’re pregnant?”

All she can do is blink at him, narrowing her eyes as he talks like he isn’t being a complete weirdo. “I didn’t, how did you know that?”

“I bought a book.” He shrugs as he starts on the way back to her office.

“You bought a-,” she stumbles to follow after him, his long strides already carrying him halfway down the hall, “Luke, you’re gonna end up weirding yourself out with that sort of stuff.”

Him and Jack have both been on at her all week since they found out, appearing to take it in turns to bombard her with gross pregnancy facts, like Nia and the girl with the list - although she’s at least had the decency not to mention that since finding out, herself.

The boys, however, have branded themselves the Funcles, already regaling Poppy with stories of how they’re going to be the ones to make her baby laugh for the first time. 

It shouldn’t stress her out, the thought of those two being responsible for a baby - not with Mr Research in front of her - but it does. Luke would probably learn too many weird facts, and stress himself into some kind of almighty meltdown.

She had to block them last night for her own peace.

“Too late. I already know too much.”

“Like what?”

“I know that as of this week, your baby has started peeing inside you, which is absolutely gross.”

That is gross. She didn’t know that. She doesn’t really want to know that. If only she could block him in real life, too.

“I need you to hand the book over.”

“Can’t, Jack’s reading it now, we’re very serious about this funcle thing.”

“Luke,” she warns, not wanting to be on the receiving end of this horror from everybody.

“What? The more we know the better we can help you.”

“What book did you get that from?” She scoffs, pressing the button for the elevator while his hands are full.

“Same one. It’s good, I’ll tell Jack to give it to Nico after, it’s all about what you’ll be going through in each stage of your pregnancy-,”

“Nico doesn’t need the book, Luke, he’s going through it with me.” She frowns a little as she says it, a little voice in her head telling her it isn’t exactly working out like that. “And I thought me blocking you guys would have made it clear enough, I don’t want your weird facts. If I need to know something, I’ll find out from my doctor, not your deep dives on the internet.”

“Hey, to be fair, I was just trying to prepare you with the thing about your brain.” They step into the elevator and she presses the button for her floor,  “Maybe yours won’t shrink, maybe you’ll-,”

“Nope. No more talk about pregnancy symptoms. You’re on a time out, funcle privileges revoked. If you want to be unblocked, you’ve got to give up Google.”

“I don’t know if it’s worth it, I use Google for everything,” he frowns, like this is an actual thing he needs to seriously consider, “How will I know what I can and can’t eat?”

“You’re not a dog, Luke, if you can buy it, you can eat it.”

“I can buy bleach-,”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“Fine. No more Google.” Luke huffs, stepping out with Poppy as the doors slide open, “But if I eat an unidentifiable seed and it’s poisonous, we all know who’s to blame.”

“Maybe stay away from seeds, then?”

“My body is a temple, PJ, you can’t tell me what goes in.”

If he wasn’t doing her a wasted favour with the box, she’d probably give him a hearty shove. He can be so irritating when he wants to be. Now she has his death-by-unidentifiable-seed weighing on her conscience.

“Got to get all my nutrients in if I’m gonna be Mitchie’s favourite uncle, Nico looks like the type of dude that makes chunky babies.”

He probably isn’t wrong, not that she entirely wants to think about it, but baby Cheeto measures a little over expectations every time she has a scan, and her bump is a little bigger than the average, she has been told.

“I really don’t want those kinds of ideas in my head,” she pouts, her mind immediately going to the delivery aspect of it all, relief flooding her system as her office finally comes into sight, “And for the last time, I’m not calling my baby Mitchie short for Michigan.”

“It’s better than calling it Cheeto,” Luke scoffs, “At least Mitchie is unisex.”

Poppy gasps, stopping and placing two hands over her bump as if she’s covering tiny little ears in there. “Words hurt, Luke, you’re hardly gonna be favourite uncle chirping my baby in the womb.”

“Actually, it can’t hear anything outside of your body until like 28 weeks.”

“If I could block you in person, I would.” She’s pushing the door to her office open as she says it, turning to face him and walking in backwards to give him a meaningful glare when she notices his face twist in confusion at something behind her.

When she spins around to see what he’s bothered by, she sees a tall figure stood by her wall, hands in his pockets as he looks over the photographs that line it - and even from the back, she can tell who it is.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Looking at all your pictures, I’ve never seen any of these before.”

That’s because you don’t care about my work, she withholds from biting back, remembering Luke’s presence behind her and not at all prepared to have any sort of family bust up today - especially not in work. “You’re from this one. 43. A little scrawny to be an athlete, aren’t you son?” He points to one of the pictures, one of Poppy, Luke, Johnny and Holtzy before a game at the beginning of the season. 

“I’m-,” Luke frowns, almost comically if Poppy wasn’t too tense now to laugh, “Scrawny?”

“Look like you’d snap in two if I ran at you too hard.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be running at people?” Maybe she isn’t too tense to laugh. “Respectfully, I mean.”

“Thank you for your help, Luke,” Poppy takes the box from his hands and immediately puts it on the couch in the corner before he can protest, making eyes at him to get out of there before it’s too late. It’s for his own safety. “I’ll unblock you later, I promise.”

“Right.” He nods, “Catch you later, PJ. Good to meet you, sir.”

He dashes out so quick she swears he leaves a Luke shaped outline in his wake, her door swinging shut before she can even call out a response. 

“No pictures of the boyfriend?” Her dad asks once he’s gone, taking another quick look over the wall.

“They’re at home.” She says, going around the other side of her desk so that there’s some sort of barrier between them. “Did something happen? Is that why you’re here?”

“Cant a father visit his daughter at work?”

“If he can name her job title without looking it up, then sure.”

“I don’t need to know your job title, Poppet, I know the day you were born and how much you weighed, beyond that, I’m not expected to remember the little things.”

It isn’t the little things, she thinks, it’s my career.

“Whatever,” she sighs, not wanting to get into it, “What are you here for, dad?”

He sits in the chair opposite her, looking a little large for life now that she’s properly seeing him in front of her. It’s like when he would sit at her tea parties as a kid, always too big for the chairs and table.

“I came to say that what happened at dinner last week was embarrassing.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes, despite how petulant he probably thinks it is, crossing her legs and wiggling her mouse to bring her computer to life, hoping if she looks busy enough this conversation will be much shorter.

She’s been trying not to think about it, trying to suppress the floods of disappointment that wash over her every time she remembers it. Her mother’s biting words, her father’s indifference, it all hurts just the same.

“I’m not gonna apologise for defending myself, or defending Nico, I don’t care if I humiliated-,”

“I was embarrassed of myself.”

“I-,” Oh. Just as she feels herself start to get defensive again, his words register. “What?”

“I’m your dad, I’m supposed to stick up for you and have your back.” He frowns, “Especially knowing how hard your mom is on you, and what you’re going through, I was just blindsided by the whole Rich Horowitz thing with your brother, and-,”

“You’re supposed to stick up for him, too, dad. You’re just as hard on Oli.” She doesn’t know why she’s defending her brother after what he did, but after all these years it’s almost like a second nature. She can snap at him, but if anyone else does the same, she won’t let it slide.

“Says you, you called him an idiot.”

“Yeah, well he got under my skin.”

“He was being an idiot. We all were, that’s why it’s embarrassing.” He sighs, “It took your boyfriend stealing my job for me to realise-,”

“Stealing your job?”

What on Earth does he mean by that? 

“What is it that you kids say? He handed my ass to me?”

“What kid taught you that?” Oli’s boys are too young to know that one, and it won’t have come from her brother. Is the demographic at the club really that young these days that someone’s teaching her dad the meaning of having his ass handed to him? It can’t have been Nico. “What do you mean?”

“After you and your mother stormed off, he gave me and your brother a verbal spanking, if you will.”

I won’t, she thinks, unable to stop the grimace that comes out in instinctual response at her father mentioning spanking.

“He yelled at you?”

“Well I can’t picture the boy yelling, Poppy, he’s a little gentle-mannered, don’t you think?” His tone is patronising, but from the way this conversation is going, she doesn’t think that’s his intention, for once. “That isn’t a bad thing, of course! I wouldn’t want my daughter to be with a man so quick to raise his voice, anyway.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s probably up to him to tell you.” He shrugs, “He just made me realise that I haven’t been the most supportive of you lately. With all this,” his hands gesture around the room, “And that,” and then towards her belly. “And I didn’t give either of you a chance the other week. I’d like to get to know the guy who sat at a table in my house and had the guts to put me in my place. Have a do-over.”

Her mouth hangs open at the revelation, blinking slowly as she tries to come to terms with what her father has just said.

Nico stood up for her? To her dad? After how eager he was to impress him and bond with him over something - he just laid down the law on how she deserves to be treated? Like it’s nothing for him to do so? And he didn’t even tell her he’d done so, didn’t even try to get some brownie points?

And her dad respected it enough to come all the way out here and ask for another shot?

“You want a do-over?”

“I do. One of my golfing buddies has a suite at Madison Square Garden, he’s a big Knicks guy, but he rarely uses it for the Rangers, he’s said we can use it for the game on Wednesday. It is your guys they’re playing, right?”

The game on Wednesday.

Who is this man and what has he done with her dad?

Her dad who has never shown anything but distain for hockey in his life, has voiced it so much to Poppy since she started working with the Devils that she stopped talking about work, entirely.

She nods, anyway.

“And then we’re gonna treat you and Nico to lunch on Thursday, if he’s free.”

“We?”

“Me and your mother.”

Poppy gulps. She’ll probably have something to say about Nico speaking up in her defence. 

“She’ll be on her best behaviour, I’ve had assurances.”

“Right,” she scoffs, finding that hard to believe. “I don’t know, Dad, I don’t think a game against the Rangers is the best place to do this-,”

“I want to understand your world, Poppy.”

Well that’s a cruel thing to say to an overly emotional pregnant woman, she thinks, eyes watering at the thought that maybe this could actually be a turning point for them. 

All thanks to Nico.

“Okay.” She agrees, despite her better judgement warning her against doing so.

“Great. I’ll email you the details for the suite. I have to go, your mom is getting her hair done and I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late to meet back up with her.”

“You guys are over this way?”

“We’re in midtown for a conference on Tuesday, we’ll be going back on Thursday after lunch.”

Poppy just nods in response, having nothing more to say to the fact they’re just across the river and neither thought to check up on her.

She supposes this is that, her dad checking up, so she lets it go as she rounds the table to hug him goodbye before he leaves her alone with her thoughts.

She’s only alone for a minute before her door opens without a knock, and she looks up to see an out of breath Nico barging into her office, skin almost glossy with sweat and still donned in his team gym gear. 

He pants to catch his breath once he has closed the door behind him, putting his hands on his hips and frowning over at Poppy, who can’t help the alarm that crosses her own features.

“Are you okay?” She stands and rounds back to his side of her desk, standing before him to get a better look, assessing for any way in which he could be hurt, because why else would he rush straight here in a panic?

“Yeah,” he breathes, tongue swiping out against his bottom lip as he looks over her in the same way, head tilted and eyes blinking slowly, “Are you? Luke said your dad was here, I was worried you’d be upset.”

“Oh,” her lips remain in a pout around the word as her eyes dart to where she can see a little bit of sweat trickling down the side of his neck, and she feels hot, herself, all of a sudden. “I’m good.” The words slip from her mouth before she can even think of them, making up for the way her mind is racing at a million miles an hour out of nowhere.

“You sure?” He runs a hand through his hair, and she sees his t-shirt strain against bulging biceps, making her struggle to swallow and only able to nod in response. “I ran up here like a madman,” he chuckles, stepping around her to sink down into the chair behind, spreading his legs and laying his arms on the rest in a way that reminds her of the dream she had been woken too soon from this morning. 

It’s a real mental effort not to let her eyes travel lower than his broad, heaving chest as she looks down at him, perching herself on the edge of her desk, awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her own arms and legs that isn’t going to elicit such sinful thoughts.

“Sorry, I didn’t tell him to go find you or anything.”

“No, it’s okay, I asked the boys to come get me if they think you need me,” he shrugs, like that isn’t going to cause her heart to do little somersaults in her chest. “Would have ended up here at some point this morning, anyway.”

“Less stressed, though.”

“Always stressed when it comes to you.” She kicks softly at his calf, underestimating just what the effects of the touch would do to either of them when he smirks up at her, his eyes dark and inviting.

All she wants to do is crawl into his lap.

This isn’t your ridiculous dream, Poppy, she tells herself, chewing at the corner of her mouth to ground her mind.

“He wants a re-do.” She tells him, “My dad. He and my mom are staying in Manhattan for something this week, and he wants to come to the Rangers game on Wednesday, and have lunch with us the day after.”

Nico straightens up in his seat, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks up at her. “That’s a good sign, right?”

The gleam in his eyes paints a picture of optimism, and the thought that anything about this is going to result in a positive outcome, but Poppy knows her parents too well to get her hopes up.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “He seemed apologetic, but I doubt my mom is going to have magically changed her entire outlook in the span of a week.”

“Getting your dad on side is still a win,” he keeps that sweet smile despite her pessimism, and she feels a little lighter just looking at the curve of his lips. 

“Yeah, I heard I have you to thank for that.”

He pauses a second while he thinks over her words, before slinking back into his seat, defeated, but still deciding to feign ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a shame,” she pouts, “‘Cause my dad told me about someone matching your description, sitting at his dinner table and putting him in his place about not sticking up for his daughter.”

“Sounds like a decent guy,” Nico shrugs, standing from the seat, closer to Poppy than either of them could have anticipated, their knees bumping together as she’s now the one looking up at him. “Probably didn’t mean to cause any offence and just wanted to defend the mother of his child like she did for him.” His hand reaches instinctively to settle against her side, the tips of his fingers on her waist and his palm caressing her belly. 

She hums, lips curving as she watches his eyes drop to where his hand is, fighting the urge to touch him back.

“Sounds very decent.” She agrees, “No one’s ever gone to bat for me like that, before.”

“Yeah, well, whoever he is, he knows he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

A large palm comes to cradle her cheek as she beams up at him, and his touch lights all her nerve endings ablaze.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, she thinks, with him practically stood between her legs and his melted chocolate eyes looking into hers, swirling with what feels like adoration. 

They dart down to her lips, and his tongue swipes at his own, and just when she thinks this is it, think he’s going to lean in and close the gap, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his shorts.

He sighs as he retrieves the hand from her face to get it, frowning as he looks down at the screen while his other palm stays on her belly. “I have to get back,” he mutters, “But Thursday is fine with me, I’m free. I’ll text you when I’m done with practice, we’ll figure everything out,”

“Okay,” she smiles, despite the fact that she feels like she’s now wound tighter than a drum, all the anticipation in her body stiffening her muscles as she watches him retreat.

“Or we could do lunch together later?”

She should be embarrassed of how quick and how eager she nods in response, but she can’t really be ashamed when he smiles the way he does, a soft laugh accompanying it as the dimples settle into his cheeks. 

“Let me know what you want and when you’re free and I’ll bring it by.”

“Okay,” she breathes as he gets a little closer, smiling back shyly.

He swipes his knuckle along the curve of her bump, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek, and she hopes he doesn’t notice the way she smushes herself into it, nuzzling into the feeling of his lips against her skin. She can feel him smile against her, though, so that hope goes out of the window too quick for her to really care.

“I’ll see you later then, Poppy.”

“And Cheeto.”

And he leverages two hands at either side of her hips on her desk before leaning down, face level with her belly as he says, “And you too, Cheeto.”

She's gonna have to stop letting him into her office, for her own sanity.

“I’m gonna need your dad to tell me who hooked us up with this suite, this is insane!”

Poppy hadn’t been sure when her dad had sent over the instructions on how to get to his friend’s suite at MSG, especially not when the staff had been so attentive and treated the girls like they were the most important people in the building, having a guide literally walk them to the door before letting them know where he’d be if they needed anything replenished while they are here. But now that she’s in the suite, she gets it entirely.

She’s used to watching from the staff suite at work, but even those aren’t as nice as this one. 

The room itself is intimate, dim, warm lighting cast across leather seating, pictures of the arena on the wall, and a few pictures of Knicks winning their championships in the 70’s. Thankfully not a Rangers themed box or Poppy’s nausea might have returned. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugs, trying to ignore how incredible it is to be in a private suite at MSG. She’s a Prudential girl, always loyal to The Rock. Private restrooms and a VIP entrance won’t sway her to the dark side, she isn’t that fickle.

“Oh my God, they have baked cookies.”

When she looks over at Nia, she has the lid lifted on one of the trays in the chafer in the corner, the smell of fresh, hot cookies flooding the room and luring Poppy over like a siren-call. There’s a tray of quesadillas, some crudités, a salad and some chicken fingers, and she wants to eat all of it.

It’s probably a good thing she can’t drink, because the mini bar might have done the trick.

“I’m not waiting for my parents to dig into this.”

“You’re pregnant, they’ll understand.”

The two best friends share a knowing look before breaking out into laughter, and filling two plates with food before going to sit at the counter-like table that overlooks the ice. 

Poppy feels her anxiety slip away a little as her and Nia catch up, hearing about her work and her dad’s new random venture into woodworking that has him flooding her apartment with new shelves and a TV unit so that he can test their durability before he builds Poppy a crib, her heart melting at the thought of him being so sweet to someone who isn’t even his own daughter. 

They watch as the arena fills up, the noise building to a continuous buzz that always makes her hands shake a little, and Nia, knowing her all too well, is able to distract Poppy entirely from her parents impending arrival and whatever else is going on in her crazy mess of a head.

That is until she gasps, pointing toward the jumbotron that’s playing some sort of preview. “Look, it’s your man.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him my man.” Poppy huffs as she manages to catch a glimpse of him, a 2 second flash that has her whole body vibrating.

“I thought things were going well?”

“I don’t know, Ni,” Poppy sighs as she leans back, snapping a cucumber stick in half, “I mean, they are, but I guess I just thought he would have made a move by now.”

“Haven’t you been pushing him away every time he tries?”

“No. I pushed him away once.” She frowns, rolling her eyes when Nia raises a single brow at her incredulously, “Maybe twice, 3 times, maximum. But that was so long ago, now. And things have been so good lately, he’s been incredible.” Poppy’s limbs feel a little like jelly as she melts into her seat, her mind relaying all the ways in which Nico has been a rock for her over the past few months. Taking her to her appointments, going on grocery runs with her, coming around and helping her put them away. The whole family dinner ordeal and the agreement for a re-do. 

He’s so good to her that it’s driving her up the wall.

“But?” Nia asks, knowing her best friend all too well.

“But nothing! I wanna,” Poppy looks behind her to double check her parents haven’t arrived yet, “climb him like a tree,” she whispers, “and he’s being respectful and decent about it.”

“Ugh, what a dick.” Nia scoffs in faux-agreement, raising her arms mockingly. 

“I know.” Despite the fact that Poppy knows Nia is being sarcastic, she carries on anyway to further drive her point home. “He came by my office the other day, and he was all sweaty and gorgeous, and things got all intense, and kissed me on the cheek. How am I supposed to slip him some tongue when he kisses my cheek? And then he came back later for lunch and pretended like everything was normal.”

He had brought her a wrap and some juice, and the two of them had sat and eaten together in her office like he wasn’t about to kiss her stupid in the morning, stood between her parted legs like something fresh out of a literal fantasy she’s already had.

“I thought you’d last a little longer before you completely lost your mind, to be honest. You’re falling apart before my very eyes.”

“I haven’t even told you about the dreams yet.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” 

“I just feel like I’m running out of time, or something.”

“You guys are having a baby together, Pop, you literally have forever to figure things out.”

Poppy knows that’s technically right. It had been her exact sentiment when she had suggested taking things slow in the first place. They don’t need to rush into something just because they’re going to be parents, soon, but she had thought those things at a time where everything was confusing. 

She was still hurting a little, fresh from almost a month of the two of them not talking, of him rejecting her and telling her he wouldn’t have the capacity to be a good partner. And she had been a little overwhelmed at the time, her life changing before her eyes, and all. But he’s done so much to disprove all of that, since. 

He’s there for her, physically, emotionally, however she needs and whenever she needs him. He looks after her, tries to help in whatever way he can when she’s exhausted or feeling sick - brings her food and smoothies and sends her pick-me-up texts that make her feel like she’s floating. 

All that when he’s in the thick of his season too, fighting what is looking more and more like a losing battle for playoff contention, going home every day exhausted and beaten and bruised, and he always makes the time to call her. To ask how she’s doing, how she’s feeling, to make sure she has eaten and is tucked up for the night and safe. 

They kiss each other, they hang out like old times, he caresses her belly when they’re in private and she rubs his back affectionately when they cuddle, and sure, her hormones are all out of whack and her brain is shrinking and maybe she is falling apart, but she wants him so bad she doesn’t even know how to function, anymore.

Everything they do together points to the fact that they should be together, but he isn’t doing anything about it - and so all Poppy can think is that maybe he doesn’t want that, still.

“He’s going home for the summer, Ni,” Poppy frowns, “And we haven’t even really talked about it, but I feel like if something doesn’t happen before then, then maybe it never will.”

“That’s ridiculous, you said it yourself, the two of you are in a good place.”

“This time last year we were in a good place too, and then he left and came back with a girlfriend.”

Nia’s eyes widen as realisation flashes across her features, and Poppy’s brows push together at the depth in which she’s being perceived by her best friend. “You’re really worried about that?”

Poppy shrugs, shuffling in her seat as she watches the lights dim across the arena, thankful for the darkness so that Nia can’t notice the heat creeping up her neck.

She doesn’t want to be told she’s an idiot, right now.

“You’re being an idiot.”

Great.

“Poppy, c’mon, this isn’t even remotely the same situation, anymore. I know I’ve been giving him a hard time since he hurt you, and I’ve had a lot of other things to say, but that guy worships the ground you walk on. I posted a picture of you on my story the other day with some writing on there, and he replied to it asking me to send him the original picture like a giant lovesick dork. That’s like obsession, there’s no chance in hell he’s going home and not thinking about you and your baby every waking second of his life.”

“You unblocked him?” Poppy can feel her lips twitching a little into a smile.

She knows Nia never hated Nico after what he did - she was angry, and probably felt betrayed herself a little that she had trusted him with her best friend’s heart and he had stomped on it - but she’s never really been a forgive and forget kind of person.

But she’s been doing her own version of baby steps with Nico. When they cross paths at Poppy’s apartment, one on the way out, one on the way in, she no longer scowls at him. No longer rolls her eyes when he’s brought up in conversation.

And, evidently, she no longer has him blocked 

For everything Nico has done to prove himself to Poppy, Nia has seen it, too. 

Even just to let him back in, in such a small way, is such a big step.

“He’s on a probationary period, three strikes and he’s out.”

“Wrong sport.” Poppy smirks.

“Don’t care. Besides the point anyway, what I was trying to say is that you’re worrying too much about stupid things when you should be focusing on the things he is doing. He literally endured dinner with your parents, and is going to do it again. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“I thought the point of this pep talk was to stop my anxiety, not double it.”

She’s been trying not to think about lunch with her parents. Has been trying even not to think about them coming to this game, Nia being the only reason she hasn’t tried to make her escape by now.

They probably won’t show, anyway, and it will start their meeting off tomorrow with already raised tensions, just how her mom prefers it.

Her stress levels dip and rise like a rollercoaster in the build up to the game. The announcement of the players, the national anthem, the tension in the room palpable as the clock ticks down, high already from the last time the two teams met and the constant chatter of a fight breaking out on the ice - and she’s feeling more and more grateful that they haven’t arrived yet.

Until the door to the suite swings open, and her dad walks in on his own, an apologetic smile on his face as he rushes over.

“Sorry I’m late,” He kisses Poppy and the cheek, and greets Nia with a warm hug, sitting beside his daughter and looking out into the arena, “Did  I miss anything?”

“Pucks about to drop,” Poppy tells him as he gets himself comfy, watching as he scans the crowd with an expression that kind of, sort of, looks like awe. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time,” he shrugs, patting a hand against her back gently and not really delving any further into it. “We’ll have more fun without her though.”

Nia scoffs from the other side of her, hiding her smile with a bite of a cookie while Poppy tries to swallow down her unexpected disappointment.

This will have to be enough - her dad trying his best while her mom sulks on her own in her hotel room. He’s right, anyway. It will be more fun without her here.

Poppy has work the next day, Nico having a rare morning off, himself, and so the two of them arrange for him to pick her up at lunch, driving over to meet her parents together. She blocked the afternoon out of her diary, having to account for the travel either way across the river, and for whatever trauma the two of them are about to face, no doubt needing a good 20 minutes to wind down in the car after, and her morning goes by way quicker than she probably would have liked.

She packs up her office with as much delay as she can cause, stopping every couple of minutes to put her hands on her hips and try out a couple breathing exercises that Nico has been teaching her, huffing out long breaths through puffed out cheeks and letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Once she has everything, she reluctantly heads down to meet Nico where they had agreed after he sends her a text to tell her he’s there.

She straightens her skirt out as she waits in the elevator, making sure her hair is neat and her top isn’t riding up against her small bump as it has been all morning, no longer able to cover it up with her cardigan tied around her waist, knowing her mother would call her out for being unkempt.

She wouldn’t be wearing heels if it were up to her, a subtle ache already settling into the soles of her feet, but it’s only for an hour or two, she has some sneakers in her trunk for when he brings her back for her car, and if anything, they make her legs look good so it isn’t entirely a bad thing to be wearing them around Nico.

When the doors to the parking level open, she has the expectation that he would be in his normal spot around the corner, where the players usually park - the spaces a little bigger, less chance of anyone being careless with the way they open their door and dinging it against another like she’s had happen before - but she’s surprised to see he isn’t too far, parked straight ahead so she doesn’t have far to walk.  

Nico leans against his car, dressed smart in charcoal pants and a light grey shirt, and she finds herself doing a not-so-subtle once over, mainly to check he isn’t wearing sneakers. 

She’s grateful she has a little time to walk over to him, to admire him before it’s too obvious she’s doing so, because if he got a close enough look at her, he could potentially call her out for drooling. 

She catches him doing the same, eyes lingering on her bare legs as she closes the distance between them, before flickering up to greet her with a dimpled smile.

“You look good,” she comments as she steps toward him, reaching to smooth his hair where he’s slicked it back a little, swiping her finger along his clean shaven jaw as she retreats.

“It goes against everything I believe in, wearing dress pants this early in the day.” 

“I appreciate it.”

“I know you do.”

He opens the car door for her and walks by the front to round to his side, giving her a chance to admire the back of him as he moves before he’s jumping into the drivers seat. 

She reaches to put the AC on low as he drives, getting a little hot watching his fingers flex around the wheel, and tries not to spend all her time leaning against the headrest and looking over his side profile like a crazy person. 

Although, if admiring a guy as gorgeous as Nico while he’s in her presence is a crime, she thinks she probably deserves to be locked up.

She’s a repeat offender, after all.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel weirdly good, actually.” Her morning at work hadn’t been too hectic, a meeting and a few calls, and she hasn’t really felt sick all week, so things are definitely looking up.

And last night with her dad went better than expected, despite her mom not making an appearance.

She’s even slightly optimistic for this lunch, oddly enough, not having that nagging voice in her head telling her everything is going to fall apart, for once.

“What about you? You aren’t gonna threaten to drive off again, are you?”

“Nah,” he chuckles, casting her an amused glance before focusing back on the road. “I think I’ve got a good read for how these Jensen table talks go by now.”

“I think my dad will be okay today, he got really into the game last night. I think it was all the fighting, and my mom not being there, it was like he’s been holding back all this time.”

She had been initially disappointed when her mom hadn’t shown, but when all the fighting had started, she had been relieved. She had warned her dad when he had made the suggestion in the first place, but nothing could have properly prepared him for the carnage of a game against the Rangers, and so she just had to let him endure it.

And he loved it. It was bizarre to see. He’d been cheering on the boys, oohing and aah-ing in time with the crowd, and jumping whenever she and Nia did.

She had actually had fun, and it seemed like he did, too.

“He’ll be coming to The Rock in a jersey before we know it.”

“Is that how things work out for you, everyone just comes around in the end ‘cause your so charming?”

“Surprised it took you this long to notice.” 

Poppy’s parents are waiting in their hotel lobby when Poppy and Nico arrive after their almost-hour long drive, thankfully both dressed just as smart as they are, because she knows Nico would have something to pout about if her dad showed up in khakis. 

The four of them sit around a table in the lounge restaurant of her parent’s hotel in Midtown, her dad having tried to find another spot and her mom having quickly vetoed every cafe or restaurant in the area after vigorously trawling through the Yelp reviews and no doubt turning her nose up at every picture she came across.

Despite the setting being suited to her, she still rearranges her table setting when she arrives, still swipes at the surface and assesses her finger for dust or grime with a dissatisfied look on her face, and Poppy’s trying her best to ignore the little things. Her mom would be like this in the finest restaurant in the world, it isn’t specific to Jersey, it isn’t entirely personal.

It has been cordial, so far. Pleasantries exchanged, small talk conversed. The food had been nice, the wait staff thankfully avoiding her mother’s daring glares, and Poppy starts to feel her anxiety dwindle the more her father talks.

He asks Nico of his interests, trying to find something shared, but coming up slightly short - but that’s okay, she thinks, not everyone has something in common. Maybe they’ll discover that down the line. Maybe there’s something niche that their conversations haven’t sparked yet. 

Nico is his charming self, she has no worries there, and her dad is putting in enough effort to make up for the lack of it on her mom’s end.

Then he moves onto hockey, and Poppy can tell he had been paying attention when he had watched them play the day before. 

She and Nia had been too invested in the game to explain much to him, and it’s hard - being in the arena, watching it live - without having heard most of the terminology through commentary or any sort of breakdown of a play, and so Nico ends up pretty much going through plays and game structure with him, explaining penalties and power plays, shift switches and face-offs, and Peter sits, nodding along as if he’s actually taking it on board. 

“And what do you do with yourself when your season is over?” Her dad asks, and despite the depth in which she knows him, can see the lingering suspicion and distrust in Nico, and of their situation as a whole, she’s grateful for that fact that he’s at least trying.

“I usually go back home and spend time with my family, sir. My brother plays in the league over there so I don’t get to see him when we’re playing at the same time.”

“That’s nice. And that’s Sweden?”

“Switzerland, Dad.” Poppy corrects him, her fingers tickling mindlessly at Nico’s palm in her lap. 

“Of course! Beautiful country, Poppy’s mother and I always used to stop by Zurich whenever we were in Europe. You loved the Opera House, didn’t you, Cilla?”

“Hm,” Poppy’s mom confirms, sipping at her wine with feigned disinterest. Poppy knows she’s paying attention, is going through Nico’s every word with a fine toothed comb. “I much preferred France.”

Poppy rolls her eyes, shifting a little in her seat until her knees knock into Nico’s.

“What do your parents do, son?”

“They both work in insurance, my dad has his own firm.”

“Ah, they’re not athletic, like you and your brother?”

“They were. My mom was a swimmer, my dad played footba- sorry, soccer. And my big sister, Nina, she used to play volleyball.”

“I bet your family game nights get heated.”

He really is trying, Poppy thinks, smiling softly over at Nico as he chuckles in response, lips twisting fondly at whatever memory that invokes. 

“They aren’t too bad, only a bit competitive. No major fights, thankfully.”

“Is that what you want for our grandchild?” Priscilla chimes in, only proving Poppy’s point that she isn’t as disinterested as she’d like to seem. “For them to put all their focus on games and competitions?”

“Mom,” Poppy frowns, shuffling uncomfortably again, all too ready to jump to Nico’s defence until he speaks up from beside her.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, “I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest, I would just want them to be happy.”

He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to win points or be corny, when Poppy turns her head to look at him, she sees the slight dopey smile he has whenever he talks about their baby - a look of pure adoration for even the unknown - and she smiles too. If anything, his outlook would have the opposite effect on her mother than to give him any sort of kudos, but her heart warms, all the same. 

She clutches at his hand under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze that he returns three times over.

“Nico plays for Switzerland, too,” she directs more towards her father, who might be a little more receptive to the fact, “They have the world championships in Prague this year, if the Devils don’t make the playoffs, Nico might be going over earlier. Might even captain the team.” She beams with pride, using her other hand to rub at the arm of the hand of his that she’s holding.

“That’s great-,”

“That’s an awfully busy schedule for a father-to-be.” Her mother scoffs from across the table. “How are you supposed to look after my daughter from half way across the world?”

“I can look after myself, Mom.”

“You shouldn’t have to. What if something happens, and he’s 9 hours away?”

Why does she have to be like this?

Poppy can feel the responsive insolence brewing within her, bubbling and steaming and about to rear it’s ugly head when another voice speaks up.

“Cilla, that’s enough. She’s shown us she can take care of herself, stop trying to instigate something and scare her for no good reason.”

Poppy feels herself mirror her mom’s expression, her mouth gaping open in shock at the nerve of him to stand up to her like that out of nowhere. As Priscilla presses her lips together in indignation, Poppy prepares hers to speak when her dad turns to Nico, completely disregarding the interruption in their conversation. 

“Is that different? Being a captain for your country compared to the Devils?”

She could lean over the table and kiss him on the head, beyond grateful for the interest he’s now showing, hoping it overpowers the venom spewed from her mother’s mouth. 

“A little bit,” Nico nods, lips curving softly at the corners, clearly appreciative, too. “I don’t really have to worry about trades and contracts and stuff when it comes to my national teammates. I grew up with a lot of those guys, and the tournament is a lot closer to home than the games here. I don’t want to say I prefer it, but it’s always nice to play closer to my family and friends.”

“You’ll have to let me know when it’s on the TV, Poppy. After last night, I’d love to watch more games. It was quite exciting.”

She squeezes his hand again, her smile wider when she looks up at him this time, her eyes settling on the dimples she wants to press her lips to. 

Her dad’s words from the other day ring in her head.

He made me realise I haven’t supported you in the way I should be.

Her dad has never stuck up for her like this. Always turning a blind eye to the way her mom zeroes in on all the things that could possibly sting her - and here he is, in public no less, putting her in her place to protect Poppy. To protect Nico, even. 

“I don’t know if that game was the best introduction for you, sir.” Nico chuckles, “We lost, too.”

“I have it on good authority that that’s only because the Rags are a bunch of no-good cheaters.”

Nico snorts, glancing down and meeting Poppy’s gaze, fondly. “Is that so?”

“I said dirty, rotten, no-good cheaters, actually,” she shrugs, “Dad, if you’re gonna start chirping, you’ve got to put a little more heart into it.”

“You’ll have to teach me, Poppet,” Peter tells his daughter, “Maybe that’s how we keep you busy this summer, you can get me up to scratch for the next season.”

And despite the way her heart hammers in her chest at the mention of her having to be kept busy and the thought of being apart from Nico, she feels the tension in her shoulder slip away. Even her mom’s sour face can’t ruin this moment, where her dad starts showing slight signs of approval for the first time in her life, she feels.

“We can discuss my rates, later.” She smiles over at him, cheeks tightening and eyes watering slightly as she smiles, her appreciation for his time, and for the moment, far outweighing her disappointment in the woman sat beside him. 

It’s only two days later that Poppy and Nico are separated again, him and the team leaving a day early for their game against the Senators, situating him overnight in a hotel in Ottawa when she really wants him back with her in Jersey.

It’s getting pathetic now, she thinks, the way she misses him all the time. It’s one day. She’s still texting him, still speaking to him practically every hour. She shouldn’t need to have him right next to her at all hours of the day.

If anything, she needs to start getting used to this - him not being around. Within the next month, he’ll be back home in Switzerland and she’ll be here, grumbling and moaning to herself and everyone but him about how she wants him back.

She’s been trialling out other people’s company too, as pitiful as that sounds. Nia she knows is a safe bet - she’ll be around, already in full auntie mode and more than ready for Poppy to enter her nesting and shopping phase. Jack and Luke will be going back to Michigan, no doubt, but they’re bound to have some trips back to Jersey. Kelsey is kind of a no-go, because despite the fact that she still considers her one of her best friends, she’s all of a sudden under the impression that Poppy is no fun now that she’s pregnant, and she doesn’t have the energy in her to prove her otherwise. Josh at work had come with her for lunch earlier in the day. He’s alright company, but a little boring, if anything - doesn’t make her laugh straight from her belly, not like Nico, not that she’s comparing them.

Nothing really compares to him, if she’s honest, so it’s a fruitless task to even try.

And so, she’s resigning herself to the little version of him that sits in his poor-signal box on her FaceTime app, crashing and pausing and cutting out sometimes when he speaks.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” Poppy groans, leaning forward onto her elbow in front of where her phone is rested on the counter, a pout on her lips as she watches Nico situate himself on his hotel bed.

“I thought you were getting food, before? Didn’t you say you were gonna have a late lunch?”

“We did,” she sighs, remembering the disappointment that the first bite of her bagel had elicited and swearing that even the memory of it has her stomach growling.

“We?”

“Yeah, I went with Josh.”

“The PR guy?” Nico looks so cute when he’s frowning, she thinks, his eyebrows pressing together and his doe-brown eyes going round, his screen pausing on a very adorable pout for a few seconds. 

“Yeah.”

“You went on a lunch date with Josh the PR guy?”

“I wouldn’t call it a date, we just had the same lunch hour.” She shrugs, trying not to get distracted at just the sight of him on a phone screen. Nia was right the other day, she really does need to pull herself together, she thinks. “I don’t think anyone in their mind would want to date me right now, I’m distinctly round and up until a week ago was walking around with a gross vomit smell about me.”

“Was it just the two of you?” He asks, doing little to dispel her undateable theory and causing her to frown, too.

“Yeah,” she drags out with the tilt of her head.

“And you went away from The Rock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he pay?”

“Well, yeah, but-,” He probably wouldn’t appreciate her telling him it was Josh’s turn, implying they had shared other lunch breaks, but he cuts her off before she can.

“And you walked back to work together after?”

“We’re in the same building, and it was nice out today.”

“Has he text you since?”

“I-,” She doesn’t actually know. Poppy swipes up from their FaceTime to check her messages, seeing his name near the top. Sent 30 minutes ago, I had fun today, with a smiley face - a blushing smiley face, at that. “Yeah? But you used to pay for my lunch and text me when you got home,”

“Yeah and now you’re carrying my baby.” He’s smiling when she brings the FaceTime back, a soft smile that barely meets his eyes but melts her heart, all the same.

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“It was a date.” He tells her, and he shifts on the other end of the phone, discomfort evident as she realises that the smile is more resolute than she first thought. “A cheap one, if you’re still hungry.”

“Well he wanted to go to that bagel place a couple streets from work,” she says, ignoring his jab, “You know the one with outdoor seating?” He nods, “He said it’s his favourite spot nearby.”

Maybe it was a date. Walking in the soft sunshine together to his favourite spot. Him buying her a bagel, an iced tea and a little tub of tiramisu for her to eat at her desk that had way too much coffee for her to eat.

Shit.

“You hate that place.” That frown comes back, defensive, almost, and he leans back onto his bent arm in a way that makes his muscles flex, distracting her entirely.

“I know,” she sighs, at the sight of him or at this conversation, she doesn’t know. “They’re so dry, I swear they’re stale, I ended up just picking mine apart, but now I-,”

“Could eat a horse?” He grins, flexing his arm like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Exactly,” she smiles, “And I have nothing in.”

“You went shopping yesterday,” he hums, leaning back and getting comfortable, looking back at her with that sleepy smile that makes her want to cuddle into him. She could so slot into that space that his arm makes - it’s literally Poppy shaped.

“Yeah, but yesterday I had all the intentions of buying things to cook, and now I don’t want to cook.” She walks over to her couch with her phone in hand as she talks, throwing herself down into the cushions with a heavy sigh. “I saw someone with this giant soft pretzel earlier, and I know it isn’t moving yet, but I swear Cheeto started doing backflips at the smell. It’s all I can think about. Soft pretzels and melted cheese, I could actually cry right now just imagining it.”

“Maybe take a shower,” he hums, and he looks like he could fall asleep, any second. “You might have some energy after to make something.”

“Maybe,” she hums, back, soft tone matching his as she watches his eyes flutter. “Still won’t be a soft pretzel, though.”

“Keep me posted on whatever you pick, I’m gonna go before I fall asleep, I’m grabbing dinner with the boys.”

“Show-off.” She pouts, lips twitching when he smiles big enough for his dimples to form. “Text me when you’re back?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you eat something, yeah?”

“I will. See you later, Nico.”

Once her screen goes black with the end of the call, she falls into the back of the couch with a heavy sigh, head craned back to look at the ceiling. 

This is so hard, she thinks of missing a man that isn’t entirely hers, of trying to suppress her feelings before they spread to every fibre of her being. 

And with her patience wearing thin, all she has left is to listen to him - to follow his instruction in the hopes that this is what will make the universe reward her, subliminally giving him what he wants.

She showers, trying not to think about him as she faces up into the spray and lets the hot water rain down on her, lathering her hair in a shampoo she wishes smelled like him and dressing herself after in a hoodie she had stolen a while back, all remnants of his scent long washed away. 

She’s staring at a full refrigerator with a head empty of ideas when there is a knock at her door, and she trudges toward the entrance to her apartment with heavy feet. 

She knows as soon as she opens the door what it is, her nose perked like a sniffer dog as the aroma floods from the paper bag being held out to her.

“I got a delivery for Poppy?”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the bag from the pre-pubescent looking Postmates delivery guy, and handing him a tip from the little stack of notes she keeps on the table by her door. 

The name on the bag is for a bakery she knows is around 15 minutes away, closer to her old place up in Hoboken, and she practically skips around to her couch to open it up. 

Two soft pretzels and a tub of Cranberry-Bacon Swiss cheese dip that she had forced Nico to try one time a few years back, and hadn’t had since she moved - still warm in the bag and the smell of it causing her mouth to water.

She thinks this might be the sexiest thing he’s ever done.

Remembering a random order for a soft pretzel from years ago. Relaying her schedule over the phone before, how she didn’t like a certain bagel shop that she had probably mentioned one time before, how she had gone shopping the day prior, something that had probably been a passing comment in a text earlier in the week - flooding her with his perfect recall and insistence on delivering a love language from hundreds of miles away. 

I think I’m in love with you, she types out in a fit of giddiness, senses overpowered by the delicious smell from the bag in her lap, her judgement thankfully coming back before she can hit send, because sure they’ve told each other they love each other before, but never like that. 

Instead, she types out something much more reasonable for the occasion to send along with a selfie of her holding the bag with a stupid smile on her face.

Poppy: You’re my favourite baby daddy 😊 

Nico: I’m your only baby daddy 🙄 

Poppy: Potentially my favourite person 

Nico: Potentially?

Poppy: Cheeto’s first

Nico: So I’m second?

Poppy: Potentially 💖 

Her mind goes back to something Nia had said at the game earlier in the week, about how Nico cared for her like it was an obsession.

Maybe she’s obsessed, too.

Nico

“What do you know about Josh from PR?”

Nico knows that he should probably feel at least an ounce of shame for going to the rest of the guys about this - should feel childish for letting his own insecurities cloud his mind like this, but he’s tried talking himself out of it, and it hasn’t worked.

The locker room has kind of always been his safe space to vent - in a room surrounded by his peers, where better to air out his grievances and have his irrational feelings validated than here?

Especially on the road, after a rough night’s sleep in a hotel bed, and in a practice facility that has a distinct chemical smell that is making him a little loopy.

This is truly his last resort, and he’s already regretting it from Jack’s response, alone.

“I know that his name is Josh and he works in PR.”

“Funny,” Nico scoffs as he leans back into the bench of his locker, running a frustrated hand through his sweat-matted hair. 

“Why, what beef do you have with Josh?”

Jack sits a few cubbies over, the distance causing his voice to carry and opening the conversation up to the other stragglers, namely Timo, who doesn’t speak up but Nico can see his attention pique.

“He took Poppy out on a date.” He grumbles.

“Our Poppy?” 

Mine, Nico thinks, but nods in response, anyway, hoping only Jack takes notice but wincing when another voice responds, instead.

“Damn,” Timo teases, “Going after a pregnant woman is ballsy.”

“Do you think he’s a problem?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to Timo’s ribbing, the panicked raise of his brow only eliciting a smirk from his fellow countryman and longtime friend, but he can’t help it.

“The last time I had any dealings with him, he was wearing a tie with turtles on it, so the chances are slim, but what do I know?”

“Poppy does like her guys dorky,” Jack joins in, a taunting glint flashing across his eyes.

“Does she like him?” Timo asks, throwing himself down beside Nico, who shrugs in response.

“She didn’t even know it was a date,” he tries to brush it off a little, to sound cocky, but he doesn’t really pull it off.

“Hardly sounds like a threat to me, Cap,” Luke speaks up from the other side of his brother, always the voice of reason. 

“I’m not threatened.” He gives a nonchalant frown.

“Sure you’re not.” Luke scoffs.

“I’m just looking out for her.”

“Of course you are.”

“Stop being annoying.”

“Stop being a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Luke is always so quick to call Nico out that it’s starting to remind him of Poppy, a little - sharp tongue and a slight disregard for where he pokes it, if needed. It almost makes him appreciate it, all the more.

“She’s the mother of my child, it isn’t a crime to care about who she might be going on dates with.”

“Buddy, she’s carrying your baby, the last thing she’s looking for is a serious relationship with someone else right now.”

Nico narrows his eyes at his best friend, waiting for the follow up he knows is coming where Timo says something to chip away at his dwindling resolve - something to keep him awake, tonight.

“She’s probably just looking to get some.”

Something like that.

“Get some?” He scoffs, uneasily, his face curling in disgust, “This is Poppy we’re talking about, she isn’t like that. It was a stale bagel and an iced tea, not some sordid hookup.”

“You said she didn’t know it was a date.” Luke chimes in, his tone bored and his expression the same - halfway done with having to entertain Nico’s incessant talking and no action. 

“She didn’t, he took her out to lunch. But she didn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea it was a date when I pointed it out to her.”

“Well maybe,” Timo drags out as he pushes himself off the bench and stands before him, a playful smirk on his lips, “And hear me out before you go crazy,” Nico rolls his eyes, swallowing hard in anticipation, “She’s just crazy horny.”

“Fuck off,” Nico throws one of his pads at him, bouncing off his shoulder before he catches it with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious,” he throws it back for Nico to catch, “Pregnant women are freaky, it’s all the hormones, and most of them have their partners to scratch that itch,” Nico wonders where he’s getting all these ridiculous sayings, all of a sudden, “But you two aren’t together, so she has to get her fill from somebody else.”

Nico tries looking at the other boys for validation. Jack is already distracted on his phone, and Luke looks too grossed out to comment.

“I don’t know why I’m even speaking to you about this, I should have asked someone with at least two brain cells to rub together.”

“Fair point, hey, Curtis, come over here a sec!” Timo calls out, swinging his arm over his shoulder as he approaches, “Tell Nico, in graphic detail, just how freaky pregnant women get!”

“I want nothing to do with this conversation,” he grimaces, shrugging out from under Timo’s grip and carrying on over to his cubby. 

“He didn’t deny it!”

And he knows, deep down, that Timo has been on a personal mission to grind his gears the last few months, finding joy in getting Nico all riled up for no good reason other than it makes him laugh. He knows he shouldn’t take him seriously, but all of a sudden, his chest feels tight - and the feeling won’t go away.

He tries not to overthink any of it, but it’s no use.

All the little nagging thoughts he’s had about his relationship with Poppy over the last few months start to surface, and bubble into something dark and ugly.

Sure, they’ve had their baby steps, they’ve had the odd kiss here and there, they have told each other’s families that they’re together, have spent an awful lot of time together for two people who aren’t together, but that’s just it.

They aren’t together.

They haven’t had that conversation, haven’t set any boundaries, and as much as he hasn’t even looked at another woman since New Years Eve, he can’t expect Poppy not to have done the same.

Why wouldn’t she date Josh?

He has a decent job, seems like a nice enough guy despite his poor timing and his weird need to always be in Poppy’s office. He makes her laugh - Nico’s seen it, has felt his ears go hot as her eyes have crinkled at the corners and that sweet, melodic sound has crossed through the barrier of her lips in his presence - and she clearly likes his company enough to grab lunch with him in the first place.

And it’s those lingering worries that put him into a funk.

When Poppy texts him, his replies are short. He misses a call from her after their win in Ottawa, and doesn’t find the time to call her back. He doesn’t stop by her place when he lands after their flight back, going straight back to his apartment and tossing and turning all night wondering how long it will be before she finds someone else to keep her company and googling all the ways in which her hormones are about to come at her full force - finding an article that points out the exact timeline of it all in gut wrenching detail. He doesn’t see her before he’s locked away for their game against the Predators the next day, either - and when they lose after overtime, and a poor shootout, he feels guilt more than anything when he checks his phone after his shower and Poppy is still texting him like nothing could possibly be wrong.

Poppy: I’ve left a key under the mat if you want to drop by after the game 💖 

It had been sent sometime in the third period, over an hour ago at this point, and she’s more than likely asleep, he thinks.

But God, he wants to see her.

So where he’d usually drive straight home, he drives to her place, instead, hoping they can have some sort of conversation that suppresses the uncertainty that is starting to keep him awake at night.

He parks up beside her car on the street, and takes the stairs instead of her death-trap elevator, ignoring the protesting ache building in his thighs as he climbs all six floors in a hurry.

The key is where she said it would be, and the weight of it is nothing in comparison to the meaning of her leaving it for him, the responsibility of handling it causing his hands to shake as he opens the door quietly, in anticipation of her already resting up.

The lights are off, but there’s a lamp on beside the couch in the living room, and commercials are playing on her TV, and when he steps fully into the space, he finally sees her, and he can finally breathe.

She’s curled up on the couch, dressed in pyjama shorts that sit low on her hips and a tank top that rides up along the curve of her bump, and is snuggling into a pillow while the flashing lights from the TV reflect on her skin. He reaches onto the coffee table for the remote and puts it on mute, watching her for a second as soft snores fall from between her lips.

Jesus, he thinks, she’s beautiful.

Every time he looks at her, he finds himself picturing her features on their baby. The colour of her eyes, the roundness of them when they look straight at him, or the crinkling in the corner when she smiles, the slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips.

He wouldn’t be mad if there was nothing of his. If their baby didn’t have his eye or hair colour, his nose, his smile. He’d be happy with a mini-Poppy.

She must feel his presence as he kneels down beside her - probably hears the crack in his knees or the grunt he thought he was withholding on his way down, because her eyes flutter open slowly, focusing on him with a mellowed, dreamy gaze.

“Hey,” she smiles softly at him, voice thick with sleep and eyes still half-scrunched shut. “Tried to wait up for you.”

How could he let anyone get in his head about this? He thinks, as she looks at him with eyes that sparkle and a smile that grips at his heart like a vice. 

Is this what being apart from her is going to keep doing to him? Forcing him to spiral out of his own mind until he sees her, again?

“I was surprised to see you text so late to be honest,” he hums, reaching out to tuck her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear. “You’re usually out by 9 these days."

“Growing your baby is exhausting,” she sighs with her whole body, shifting on the couch to make room for him, and he falls down into the space she makes, positioning his body to her liking as she snuggles straight into him. He feels himself sigh, the content kind, where the aches in his muscles wither into something a little more comfortable, and everywhere she touches feels warm and soothed.

“You could have gone to bed, Poppy, I was going to see you in the morning, anyway.”

“Missed you.” He likes how there’s no preamble about it - the two of them no longer skirting around their feelings as much, not needing to think up some other excuse for wanting to see each other. She missed him enough to leave a key under the mat, enough to stay up despite her body being overworked, enough that waiting less than twelve hours just wouldn’t suffice the desire to see him again.

He has nothing to worry about, he realises. 

“Missed you, too.” He relaxes fully into the couch, an arm slung around her shoulders and the other reaching to rest in its default place on her little bump. “And Cheeto.”

Poppy hums, and he swears he can feel her arch into his touch.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, illuminated by the muted flickering of game highlights flashing across Poppy’s TV screen, and he can’t help but feel like this is where he is meant to be. This is what he’s meant to come home to. Not an empty apartment with leftovers in the fridge and a bed 10 times too big for one person.

Poppy, on the couch, warm and receptive to whatever he can give her, slow, content sighs slipping from between her lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears after a beat, he gives an affirmative hum as a response before he even registers what she’s said. She uses the hand on his chest as leverage to push herself up, still leaning on him slightly but able to look him in the eye. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” He frowns, his heart jumping under her touch.

“For Josh,” her body leans away from his a little as she rests back with her knees beneath her. “I swear I didn’t realise that he even liked me like that, and then after we spoke last night I started getting in my head about it, I don’t want you to think I’m just out here going on dates with other people.”

“I don’t think that-,”

“I just miss you a lot when you’re not here, lately,” she admits, nervously, most likely not even hearing what he had said. “And I’ve been trying to fill my time with other people so that I don’t think about you as much and that I won’t go crazy when you leave again in a few weeks.”

“Okay,”

“Not that it actually works, I-,” her lips twist as she looks down at her lap, her hands both fidgeting between them, “I just feel like I’m getting super clingy, and with you going home soon, I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you or something.”

“I don’t feel like that,” he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to reassure her. She’ll listen when she’s finished talking, herself, he figures, because again, she doesn’t acknowledge him. He feels his lips twisting in amusement as she carries on, revealing probably more of herself than she had originally intended. His chest warms, weirdly, at the idea that they’ve both been apart, wanting nothing more than to be with each other, worrying that they’re overbearing the other. 

“And I know this whole,” she lifts a hand to point her finger frantically between the two of them, “thing between us is moving super slow, and I know that’s my fault, but I feel really good about it. It feels really right to me. But we haven’t really talked about it since we agreed on baby steps, and I don’t know where your head is at around everything, but I don’t even see Josh like that, and I wouldn’t agree to go out with him when we’re-,” 

He wants her to finish that thought so badly.

When we’re what, Poppy?

She sighs - another big kind, where her shoulders rise slowly and drop suddenly. Like she’s gearing herself up to say something she thinks he won’t like.

“I don’t want you to go back to Switzerland and get over me again.”

What?

Where the hell did that come from?

He doesn’t think there was even a second he was ever over her. Not entirely, at least. Distracted, maybe. Ignorant, obviously. But never detached.

“And I realise that’s a stupidly super clingy thing to say, but-,”

“Hey,” his tone is clearer, firmer than the last few times he had spoken, and he reiterates the sincerity in what he’s about to say with a calloused hand to her face, the touch shocking her into reception. Glassy eyes sparkle back at him, like rippling water under moonlight, and he wants nothing more than to dive in, to bathe in the hidden vulnerability until his skin prunes, and he’s the one who bears the burden of it. “There is no getting over you. Not then, not ever.”

“But what about-,”

“Joshua’s been doing the groundwork to ask you out for months, Poppy. Probably for even longer, but I first saw he was into you back before that auction.” Back when he’d colour-coded notes for her and stared after her like she was a mirage and he’d been stranded in the desert for weeks.  

“I told you, I’m not-,” He’s doing the same thing, now, not letting her get her say. But he has a point to make, and she needs to understand the depth of his feelings for her in the only way he knows how to express them.

“I know. You didn’t even see it is what I’m saying. And you notice when one of the guys starts using more emojis in the group chat or when the coffee shop around the corner uses a different kind of milk. Why do you think that is?”

“It tastes different-,”

“Not the milk, Poppy. Why do you think you didn’t notice the guy following you around the office with hearts in his eyes?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been,” she frowns as if she’s actually thinking about this for the first time. “Distracted. I don’t understand what this has to do with-,”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She levels him with a glare.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he smirks, a flicker of his eyes to her lips that twist at the attention.

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags out, teasingly, reaching out to tuck her hair back behind her ear after it had fallen back over the side of her face, “Wanna hear you tell me how you’re so obsessed with me that you don’t even consider anyone else.”

“This has nothing to do with what we were talking about.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance and trying her best to look offended. She doesn’t deny it, though.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No. We were talking about you. I’m not obsessed with you.” She grumbles the last part like her mouth is fighting the truth. 

“I am.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Obsessed with you. Could throw a thousand women in bikinis my way I wouldn’t notice a single one of them.”

“Why’d you have to specify bikinis?” She frowns. “Who’s throwing half naked women at you?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“You can’t say something so ridiculous and not expect me to comment on it, Nico.”

“Fine, I take back the bikini thing,” he rolls his eyes, affectionately. “What I’m saying, is that me going back home for the summer isn’t going to change the way I feel. It never did in the first place, Poppy, I was just stupid and afraid of my feelings, last year.”

“And you’re not, now? This doesn’t scare you?”

From the second he found out the news, Nico can recall a bunch of times where he has thought that he should be scared. Should be spiralling out of his mind and anxious as hell about the way his life is about to turn upside down - but those kinds of feelings have just surpassed him. He has no doubt they’ll come at some point - the panic, the fear, the trepidation - but with every day that passes in the calm of it all, he feels more prepared to tackle those feelings when they do swarm him. He’s aided by the comfort of knowing that something in his life is a sure thing.

Playing in the NHL, maintaining his role as a captain of a beloved franchise, making it to and succeeding in the playoff finals, winning an international tournament, they’re all dreams. They’re all things he wants and wishes for, but may never get. He may never lift the cup. He may get a season-ending, or even worse, career-ending, injury out of nowhere. He might one day have to give up the C for someone else to lead his guys on the ice. He may fall out of contention for the national team, have to watch from the sidelines as they thrive without him.

But no matter where he ends up in all of that, he knows now who will be there.

Poppy is a certainty. 

Even if they’re not together, if they never cross that line completely, if the baby steps they’re navigating so well stumble so far out of control that a relationship is out of the picture, their futures are intertwined now. 

She will always be a part of him - of his life. Her and the little Cheeto in her belly. 

“No.” He says it with conviction, which his chest puffed as much as he can muster through the exhaustion that overwhelms his body. “You don’t scare me, Poppy Jensen."

She watches him for a bit, trying to gauge the honesty of his sentiment, and he waits with bated breath, his gaze switching smoothly in a triangle between her soft eyes and pursed lips. Once she has deliberated what he’s stated, has assessed the weight of his words until the sincerity of them settles into her bones, she leans forward until she’s resting back into his outstretched arm, head resting on his chest as the thumping of his heart beats against her ear. 

She sighs, big and tired, and her body melts completely into his, the curve of her belly pressed into his side and her arm slung over his torso. 

“Thought you weren’t obsessed,” he whispers teasingly, pointing toward the TV, where a slow-mo replay of him on the ice is taking up the screen. 

She just hums in response, nuzzling sleepily into his side, and he tries to even out his breathing, leaning back and closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

How could he have ever thought this wouldn’t be enough for her? All those months back when he’d spinelessly disregarded the beginnings of something more. When he had thought that this would have been something she would only settle for - the girl who has moulded herself to fit into whatever shape he leaves beside him and makes it seem like it’s everything she wants it to be.

He’s never known calm like it.

On the back of a loss, leading a team that is potentially one game away from losing out on playoff contention entirely, ending a difficult season plagued by injury and turbulence within the organisation. 

He’s physically depleted - his muscles stretched, his bones banged up and bruised - and he should be the same, mentally.

But he gets to come back here, to Poppy, who misses him when he’s gone, who stays up despite her own exhaustion just to see him, who keeps a place warm for him on the couch and curls up into his side until he forgets the rest of it. 

Until he forgets his instinct to second guess either of their feelings, or the need to overthink how her words might measure up to her actions.

Until he forgets the notion Talia had implied that he wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t make her happy, makes him forget the comments her mother had made about him being absent or distant and unable to support her, or the suggestion from her brother that he wasn’t the right fit.

“You can’t fall asleep.” She speaks slow, like she isn’t far off falling asleep herself, and it isn’t until he hears her voice that he realises just how tight his eyes have welded themselves shut, too lost in the comfort of her embrace to notice that he was about to drift off. 

“Why not?” He huffs, feeling the weight of her head on his chest when he tries to sigh.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna be blamed when you mess your back up on my couch.”

He chuckles, appreciating how her impertinence doesn’t wear off even when she’s half asleep, herself. 

And despite every instinct in his body telling him that he wants to stay like this forever, he shifts his hip to nudge her upright. “Alright,” he groans as his muscles protest at the straightening of his posture, “Let’s get you to bed first then I’ll head out.”

“Carry me?” She holds her arms out as he stands, and he swats them away.

“No."

He helps her up anyway, and keeps a hold of one of her hands as he sets off down the hall toward her bedroom, taking slower steps than usual so that she doesn’t have to stumble after him - knowing she will drag her feet, anyway.

He drops her hand when he crosses the threshold, allowing her to do whatever she needs while she’s in here without him hovering. 

“What the hell is that thing?” Nico rubs at his eyes as if he’s imagining the giant, elongated cushion that takes up more than half of Poppy’s bed, only when he pulls his knuckles away, it’s still there, sprawled out and taking up the entirety of what would be his side in another universe.

“It’s my pregnancy pillow,” Poppy follows him into the room, chuckling as she sidles past him to the bed, “It’s supposed to be really good for resting on when the bump finally comes in more, after a certain point I’m not supposed to sleep on my back. But for now it’s nice to cuddle. Nia got it for me!”

“Of course she did,” he mutters, narrowing his glare at it like the pillow has personally been placed onto this Earth to spite him. He’s been tossing and turning at night wondering if Poppy is okay on her own, yearning to be closer to her, and she’s been here cuddling a pillow?  

He wants it gone.

“It’s comfy, you should give it a go, might help you relax”

“I don’t need to cuddle your giant pillow, thanks,”

“Okay, Captain Grumpy, suit yourself,” she shrugs as she edges past him to her en-suite, and he stalks behind her, watching as she reaches to grab for her toothbrush.

It’s the rattling noise of another in the holder that captures his attention, the red handle of the one she had given him all those months ago still stuck out of the glass, and he feels the tension in his shoulders dissolve somewhat just at the sight of it - waiting there for him to pick back up again like an inevitability. 

He leans against the door as he watches her, head lulling against the jamb as his eyelids grow heavier by the second. He just needs to make sure she gets into bed okay, then he can leave. He can drive back to his apartment, throw himself into his own bed and try not to grind his teeth throughout the night at the fact that a bunch of fabric and fibres is taking his rightful place. 

“You could stay.” He hasn’t even realised she’s watching him, too, hip resting against the sink as she takes the toothbrush from her mouth. “It’s late and you’re clearly spent, and you need to be back here in the morning anyway.”

“Thought you didn’t want me hurting my back on your couch?” He hums, sleepily.

There’s a beat. A heavy silence as she levels him with a look that’s more intense than her pretty eyes allow. “I don’t.” 

Oh.

He can be cool about this, he thinks, despite his exhaustion. He doesn’t want to overreact to the thought of sharing a bed with her, doesn’t want to make her rethink it or scare her away. It’s just the two of them sleeping beside each other. It’s not the craziest thing they’ve ever done.

The ever growing roundness of her belly peaking out the bottom of her tank top is evidence enough of that. 

“Your bed isn’t big enough for the three of us,” he nods back towards the pillow, his lips twisting in mirth.

“Four,” she says around her toothbrush, spitting out the paste into the sink before adding, “Five, if you’re taking Bunny into account, too.”

“Jesus, Poppy,” he snorts, and he doesn’t know why he’s pushing his luck anymore, risking the fact that she might change her mind, but he likes pressing her buttons. Likes the soft way in which she looks up at him, her eyes going round as she waits for him to respond with a slight smudge of white at the corner of her lip that he wants to swipe at with his thumb. “You sure you can fit me in?”

She nods, tilting her head like she has to convince him at all. “We could cuddle?”

He scoffs, more so in disbelief that she actually thinks he needs to be talked into it somehow. “Thought that’s what your pillow is for?” He teases, pushing himself off the doorjamb and sliding past her with a steadying hand on her hip, reaching for his toothbrush and holding it out for her to add the paste. 

“You’re really gonna use up the last of your energy to chirp a pillow?”

“It’s hideous,” he mumbles almost intelligibly around the toothbrush, snickering when Poppy bumps her hip into his. 

“It’s relaxing.” She pouts, leaning once more against the sink instead of vacating the bathroom, watching as he brushes his teeth with a lingering gaze stuck to the movement of his lips. “You did this to me, you should be more concerned about my comfort.”

“I’m very concerned about you,” he coos, finishing up at the sink and wiping his mouth with his wrist before rinsing it off. “Lie awake worrying about you here all alone, turns out you’re snuggled up to a big, strong bunch of fluff every night.”

“Ohh,” she taunts, backing out of the bathroom before calling him out. “You’re jealous.”

“M’not jealous,” he scoffs, following her and watching as she climbs into her all-too-inviting bed. “Just not playing three in the bed with your body pillow.”

He rounds the frame, and before she can protest, he grabs the thing with an unassuming grip, not expecting the weight of it and only able to fling it to the floor by his feet - not as far as he’d like but at least it isn’t on his side of the bed, anymore, he thinks.

“Hey,” she pouts adorably, lips round and too alluring for him to focus on for long. “If I can’t sleep on that, you’re gonna have to let me sleep on you.”

“On me?”

“Yep. Wrapped around you like a vine,” she affirms, “And I don’t wanna hear you whining about dead arms or dead legs, the pillow doesn’t talk back and I’m not above kicking you out in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t see myself complaining about being wrapped around like a vine,” he chuckles, his fingers working deftly to unbutton his pants, chest heating at the way her eyes follow the movement and her lips part. He tries so hard not to let the smug smile that’s threatening to break out fully take over his lips, biting at them to withhold it as he notices her stare go glassy. 

“Good.” She mutters, distracted as he pushes down, the fabric bunching at his ankles before he kicks it off and bends to take off his socks, too. 

He moves to take off his shirt, stopping with his fingers clutched at the back before he asks, “This okay?”

Her throat bobs, and her eyes flicker from the flex of his muscles to meet his gaze, widened and dazed. She presses her lips together and nods, and he can feel the heat of her stare prickle at his skin as he works the t-shirt over his head, shaking his hair back out once it’s off.

Even in the dimmed light, he can see the warmth creeping up her neck, the flush on her chest and the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth.

That article he had found the night before flashes clearly in his head, and reads back to him almost verbatim.

With the loss of fatigue and nausea at the end of the first trimester, expectant mothers may experience an increase in their sex drive. 

Poppy looks like she wants to eat him whole.

It makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

Especially when he considers what happened the last time they were in this bed together.

If she wasn’t fighting so hard to keep her eyes open, he might have called her out on it. 

He reaches to turn off the light before he crawls under the covers and sidles up to her body, laying on his side and watching as she mirrors him, the two of them knocking knees in the middle of the mattress. 

“C’mon then,” he mutters lowly into the space between them, “Do your worst.”

“You don’t actually want me to sleep on you.”

“I don’t care how you sleep as long as you’re actually sleeping.”

“You’ll regret that when I keep you up all night fidgeting in my dreams.” Her body relaxes a little more as they carry on talking, her legs loosening until he starts to feel them press a little more against his own, and he tries to best to make his limbs receptive, adapting to her touch - adapting to her needs, even. 

“You’re still having bad dreams?”

He remembers her talking to his mom about them before - about them making her feel restless, so vivid that she wakes up still feeling exhausted. He remembers his mom talking about the kind of dreams she had when she was carrying him, about animals and aliens and weird, subconscious fears she didn’t even know she had before she was pregnant.

“They’re not all bad,” she hums, “Just strange.”

“What are they about?”

Her eyes flicker up to his, still shining in the darkness of the room, and it makes his throat go dry.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Talking about it might help,” he insists.

She considers it for a second, and he holds his breath while she does, watching her gaze go back and forth between his eyes until it settles on his mouth. “I dream about you.”

“About me?” He frowns, despite the jump of his heart rate, “Like nightmares?”

“No,” she shifts toward him, closing the gap between them just that little bit more, “Not like that, not scary.” She presses her hand to his chest, soft fingertips toying with the gold chain that sits around the base of his neck. “Sad, maybe.”

“Sad dreams?” He asks, and she’s close enough now that he extends an arm out under the covers to rest on her hip, flexing his fingers out to the small of her back.

“You keep leaving me.”

“Oh.”

Great, he thinks, even the dream version of him lets her down.

“It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a dream. I know you wouldn’t, ‘cause you’re obsessed with me, and all,” Closer again, her hips wiggle and his grip on her tightens ever so slightly. “But it feels real, and I guess I get upset about it.”

“Poppy-,”

“It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” he frowns, clutching at her with purpose now, using the leverage he has on her hip to push his own closer to her, their legs fully intertwined now. “I mean, it’s stupid in the sense that I would never leave you, but it’s not stupid that the thought of it upsets you. I’d be upset, too.”

“You would?”

“Mohn,” he doesn’t know how they can get closer, but he can only try. His legs are slotted between hers, her thigh draped across his, the swell of her tummy pressed into the curve of his waist, bare skin touching where her tank top has ridden up and it’s warm and soft and intoxicating, almost. Her hands are pressed to his chest and shoulder, short nails tickling at the flesh there when she chooses to gently scrape and scratch at him, and he could so easily inch his face toward hers until their mouths meet. “If I kept dreaming that you were leaving me, I’d be waking up screaming and crying and holding onto you for dear life.”

The smile she gives him is almost shy, and he feels his heart melting into a sticky, gloopy pile in his chest. He’s so far gone for her it isn’t even funny anymore, isn’t something he feels like he can shoulder the jokes of for much longer. It’s all-consuming, and serious, and it washes over him like a tidal wave when she says, “I’d never leave you either.”

He presses the tip of his nose to hers, bumping at it until she angles her head how he needs, and he can press his lips to the swell of hers.

This kiss reminds him of the one she had given him back in her bedroom at her parent’s house.

It’s gentle, unassuming, tame, if anything.

It might be one of his favourites.

Because this kind of intimacy with her means more than the rushed, frantic collisions they had found themselves in before.

As much as he enjoyed those, and if you’d have asked him at any other point in the day, he’d have given an arm and a leg to have experienced them again, these kinds of kisses mean more to him than that. 

They’re precious to him - provide comfort when he’s laying awake most nights in his own bed, and thinking of all the ways in which he wants to take the next steps with her. He thinks about the soft press of their lips together, and the deeper meaning of it being the sturdy foundations of something way bigger.

This is where it starts for them.

It’s about more than that - it’s about the dedication the two of them share to do things right. To take their time with each other to make sure that it will last this time.

And it’s in her lips he always finds the affirmations he needs. It will last this time. 

He lets out a self-satisfied hum when they part, half chuckle, half sigh, and she tilts her head inquisitively before her eyes flutter open. “What?”

“Nothing.” And when she leans back and looks up at him with a pouty frown, he snorts. “Maybe I should be jealous of the pillow if this is what you’ve been getting up to.”

“Shh,” she cranes her neck and presses her face into the warmth of his chest, before mumbling “Pillows don’t talk, remember,” into it and smiling into the vibrations of his fond laughter.

He falls asleep thinking about the way all the curves of her perfectly fit into the curves of him - the puff of her smiling cheeks pressing into his chest, the swell of her belly pressing into his waist, and the wrap of her legs locking him into an embrace he wouldn’t want to leave even if he had a choice about it.

Nico had thought it would have been the fidgeting that kept him awake. The first few times he woke in the night to Poppy shuffling in his arms, he had just waited it out until her body relaxed, and would subtly and softly tighten his hold on her until she settled into it - the warmth of him easing her back into slumber and allowing him to fall back, too.

He had gotten used to it after that, his body not rousing fully from sleep most times, instinctively accommodating whichever position she needed to be in until he slipped back under, and he could hardly say it irritated him - the desire to be in this position far outweighing his need for an uninterrupted, full night’s sleep.

But then the noises had started. The hums and the whimpers, the staggered breaths, the whines - and he couldn’t stay asleep thinking she was having another of those dreams.

The one where some alternate, dip-shit version of himself leaves her for whatever stupid reason. 

That brings him into full consciousness, tightening his hold on her with a furrowed brow, hand splayed out across the exposed part of her lower back, where her tank has bunched up to reveal warm skin, and he presses firmly until they’re touching at every which point of their bodies they possibly can.

Maybe in her dreams she’ll feel his presence, feel comforted, and the rational part of her brain will kick in that it isn’t real - that she has nothing to worry or be afraid about if he can seep into her subconscious with every touch.

And then she makes another noise - a mixture of a shudder-like breath and a gasp - and her hips jut forward, and he realises that maybe that isn’t the kind of dream she’s having. When he focuses on the other places they are touching, he knows for sure.

With one of his thighs slotted between hers, pressed right up against the apex where they meet, he swears he can feel a dampness even through her shorts.

Fuck.

Oh God.

He can feel himself half-hard already, he’s been that way since he crawled into bed beside her and they snuggled up so close, but this is impossible to ignore now. It doesn’t help how close they are, feeling himself stiffening into her side.

Arousal swirls like a whirlpool in the pit of his stomach, and it whooshes almost out of control when he feels her jut her hips again, grinding down onto his flesh and whimpering into his chest.

“Poppy,” he breathes, figuring he can’t let her carry on now that he’s awake, himself. It wouldn’t be right, he thinks, and curses the part of himself that argues internally. He pinches at her hip, careful not to aid her in her movements, before he tries again. “Poppy, wake up.”

She whines, shuffling as she regains consciousness, her face pressing into his chest as he just about makes out her grumbling, “Don’t want to.”

“You’ve got to.” He squeezes again, willing himself to ignore how good it feels to hold the fleshy part of her hip in his hands. He leans back a little with his neck, careful not to move any part of his lower body now that she’s awake, and looks down at her as her face contorts in confusion. “C’mon, need you to look at me.”

“Nico,” God help him, it sounds like a moan. And double God help him, because she shuffles with her whole body against him, and presses one of her thighs straight into the hardened length in his briefs. She gasps at the same time he winces, and her eyes shoot up to meet his, glistening in the dark of the night and panicked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-,”

“S’fine,” he mumbles, desperate for her not to shuffle back away from his touch, and he feels relief flood his system when she keeps his leg slotted between hers, only separating their bodies at the top.

“Do you need to handle that?”

“No, I’ll be good.” It’s probably a lie. If she carries on the way she has been, he’ll no doubt have some sort of internal meltdown. He’ll stay hard just thinking about it for weeks. “Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you were uhm-,” he breathes, not knowing why he’s embarrassed to say it when she’s literally pregnant with his child. They’re both adults, who have been there and done that once before - and have spent the last few hours slotted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “Dreaming.”

“I was-,” she frowns, brows scrunching together and lips forming a pout around her next words that don’t quite tumble out before she gasps, her hips shifting like she has realised what rests between them for the first time, “Oh my God.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures her as she begins to shuffle back.

“Oh my God!” She scrambles away from him, the sheets twisting around her body, and he feels an almighty loss when the warmth of her is no longer pressed up against him. It makes him realise just how hard he is, now, his focus entirely on the pulsing pressure gathering between his legs instead of her touch.

“It’s fine, at least you weren’t having a nightmare-,”

“No, I’m just living one, now.” She groans, the end muffled by the fact that she pulls her sheets over her face to hide the heat creeping up her neck. 

“Poppy,” he feels a laugh rumble from the depths of his chest, and his brain works too slow to stop it before it comes out in a low chuckle, Poppy responding immediately by poking her head out with a glare.

“You think it’s funny?”

“No-,”

“Tell that to your face!” She pouts, brows furrowed in an attempt at intimidation that she’s too cute to get away with - cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the soft sweat that arose from them bundling up together for so long. “You’re laughing.”

“Not laughing,” he says through a smile, lips twisting in amusement as she huffs in response, and before she can burrow herself back under the covers, he reaches under them to paw at her hip, “C’mere.”

“No.”

“Come here.” He gives her little choice about it, firming his grasp on her flesh and reaching with his other hand to lift and pull her over, twisting his body so that they press back together and he can hold her on top of him. She puts up little protest, balancing herself with soft hands pressed to his bare chest, and he likes the way her fingers curl just a little, nails scratching just enough to feel it. She does make an effort to keep her hips raised, never pressing them fully down as he holds her above him. “It’s fi-,”

“It’s not fine.” She frowns, her nails digging in a little harder, and Nico can’t help the slight buck of his hips. “It’s not fair, I’m so worked up all the time and nothing helps and you’re not doing anything about it-,”

“Me?” He scoffs in amusement, “You want me to do something?”

“Not if you’re gonna keep laughing about it!” She swats at his chest, and he takes a hand from her hip to grasp at her wrist. “You come in here all warm and snuggly, telling me you’re obsessed with me and taking your shirt off in slow motion-,”

He uses the grip on her wrist to catch her off guard, tugging at it until she stumbles, her other wrist going limp as she falls forward, and he leans his own head up to bump their mouths together on her way down.

Poppy’s lips are parted when they meet his, and he takes immediate advantage, slotting his tongue between them until it presses straight against hers, and she responds with fervour, her body arching straight into the curves of his and hips pushing down until he feels that press of the damp patch on her shorts on his bare thigh.

She moves like putty in his hands as he repositions the two of them, twisting his body until he can lay her on the mattress, pushing down into her with the steady rocking of his hips as she lifts hers to meet his in a slow rhythm. 

She breathes soft moans into his mouth, and her legs part completely to accommodate him, wrapping themselves around him for leverage so that she can grind her core directly onto the stiff length in his briefs.

It’s heaven - the way she manages to rock herself straight onto his cock with every roll of her hips - and with the way her lips part with a gasp, he knows she feels it too.

They’re hardly kissing anymore, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths as the friction builds between them - he’s pawing under the hem of her tank top, sliding to push it further up to expose her belly, and she’s clawing at his back, gripping him closer than he thought possible as their chests press together and he realises for the first time all night that she hasn’t been wearing a bra when he feels the hardened buds poke through her top. The hand sneaking up her skin heads straight in that direction, thumb wiggling between their bodies until it runs over her nipple, the sensation furthering the arch of her back and eliciting a deep whine as she bites teasingly down on his bottom lip. 

“S’that feel good?” He mumbles into her mouth, barely able to get the words out before the pressure of her lips around his closes, her tongue darting out to poke at his. She gives an affirmative hum, and he feels the vibrations of it travel all the way down his throat, filling his chest with a warm buzz. He blames the lightheadedness it causes for his incessant need to tease her, but is thankful it doesn’t entirely ruin the moment when he follows up with, “Better than your dreams?”

“Depends if you make me come this time.” She teases back, the tip of her nose bumping his.

Whatever version of him she’s been dreaming of is a loser. A certified idiot. What kind of man has this girl at his fingertips and doesn’t finish the job? Doesn’t satisfy her the way she deserves?

A schmuck.

“Can feel you soaking through your shorts,” He has a hand on her hip that slides down, over the roundness of her ass and grips at the soft flesh of her thighs until he can push himself straight up against her core, his entire body thrumming at the way she writhes in pleasure. “How long you been like this, huh? All desperate for me?”

“Too long,” she whines, pushing back against him, seeking whatever touch or friction she can get, “Need you to fuck me, Nico.”

“Can’t,” he sighs out a halfhearted denial, to which her lips pout in response. He probably could fight through the almighty ache that has settled into his bones, he definitely wants to, but it might not live up to her expectations - the last thing he ever wants to do is disappoint her. “Not tonight, I’d last 10 seconds,”

“I don’t care.” He can tell she means it, she probably isn’t far off, herself, having gotten halfway there just in her sleep. “C’mon, you’re being mean,”

“I could be meaner,” he smirks, his cheeks pushing into dimples that she immediately presses her lips to. “You know how long I’ve waited to touch you again? When you give me those sweet little kisses,”

“Touch me then,” she breathes not too far off his ear, eliciting shivers that creep down his spine until he arches into her. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg me, pretty Poppy.” He tells her, his voice low as he works at taking her shorts and panties off one leg at a time, her knees bending in time with the movement of his hands. “Remember what I told you before, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you need,”

“Need you inside me.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Now you ask me that?” She scoffs in disbelief, breaking out into a chuckle that quickly dies off when she takes notice of where his hands are going, pushing at the waistband of his briefs until he bears his all to her hungry eyes. Her lips part as he stumbles to kick off the fabric, and her gaze lingers as he takes himself into a firm grip and closes the distance, her lashes fluttering in anticipation. 

He slides his length teasingly against her folds, pressing into the wetness that has gathered there, coating himself in it and hearing her pleasured gasp echo around his skull.

“Is that a no?”

“Nico, I swear to God, if you don’t-,” He cuts her off as he pushes his cock into her, further than he thought it could go at first but she’s so wet that he moves with slight ease, already. She’s eager, too, lifting her hips until they meet his, and he’s as far inside her as he can possibly go, settling there as their breathing syncs and he presses his clammy forehead straight to hers.

She’s the one to start shifting, rocking her hips as they both groan and gasp into the small space between their mouths, and their matched desperation seeps into the frantic movements between them, him fucking into her in a building pace and her meeting it with the arch of her back and the scratch of her nails down his. 

He has to be careful not to collapse on top of her entirely, muscles flexing at either side of her head as he holds himself up, and she’s mindful of winding her legs too tight around him, instead working from below to push up to meet him instead of pulling him down to meet her.

It all catches up to him quicker than he would like, overstimulated by the sticky press of his chest to hers, sweat accumulating between their bodies and he feels it everywhere they touch. The clamminess of his neck under her hand at the top of his back, the sheen on his forehead that he uses to reach up to push his hair back when it starts to restrict his view of her, the curve of her belly when she arches a little too much into him and they slot all the way together. But his worries are quelled by the soft trembling of her thighs around him, and the way her mouth falls agape in unadulterated bliss. 

She’s close, too.

“So good to me,” he presses his lips clumsily to the corner of hers, remembering how she’d liked it the last time when he praised her, “My pretty flower, my good girl,”

“Yours,” she pants out, bumping her nose against his before chasing another kiss, muttering, “I’m yours,” between his lips. 

“Mine.” He affirms, his big, calloused hand cupping the side of her sweaty face, possessively. He loses his rhythm as he loses himself in her, his hips stuttering sloppily as he chases his high, “All mine. I’d give you anything. You gonna come for me?”

She nods, and when Nico gets a good look at her, her eyes are glazed over, dazed and on the verge of falling apart, and he balances himself on one hand to reach between them and press at her clit until she stumbles over the edge, legs tightening in a shaky hold around his waist as she comes around him.

He’s actively trying to commit it all to memory, the sweet sounds that spill from her lips, the delicious dig of her nails into his flesh, the tremors that travel all throughout her body as it wracks with pleasure, the way her muscles contract around his cock as it spills into her, filling her with the stutter of his hips.

He collapses to the side of her, their limbs tangling limply between them, her body twisting with his so that he stays inside, and the room filled with the noise of their panting as they both try to catch their breath.

They lay together in blissful peace for a good couple of minutes, her pointing a finger and tracing mindless doodles into his chest and him raking his fingers gently through her hair. Months, and years before that, of tension leading them both to this point, where Nico feels lighter than a feather laying beside the girl of his dreams.

He blames the dizzying way in which she consumes his thoughts for what comes out of his mouth next - but he just feels so content, so at ease, that the stupid joke stumbles out before his brain can register to stop it.

“Don’t think your pillow can do that.”

She snorts from beside him, her eyes crinkling in genuine amusement, and the way her body shakes with laughter has the rumblings of arousal travel through him again. 

“You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, swinging her leg over him and he twists in sync, making sure he stays inside her as she lifts her lips back towards his - any earlier exhaustion from either of them long forgotten as their mouths slot back together and their hips start to move again, chasing further euphoria.

Nico wakes the next morning with a sense of deja-vu that strikes at him like a bat, a full bladder, an ache that settles over him from top to toe, a buzz on a nightstand, and a sleeping Poppy beside him, tucked up against his body with tangled legs and her face pressed into his chest. 

The sun is peaking through the closed curtains, casting the room aglow, and he watches her rouse from her own sleep at the continuous vibrations from beside her. She groans as she twists out from their entanglement, and he keeps a hand at her hip to make sure she doesn’t move too far, already missing the warmth of her.

She checks her phone before she answers it, rolling back over into his side and settling next to him as she shuffles up so that they’re a bit more level.

He watches her as she speaks, admiring how she glows in the small slither of sunlight that casts directly upon her like an angel - despite the mess of her hair and the sleepy-swelling of her face. He isn’t entirely paying attention to what’s being said, watching her fingertips play with the chain that sits on the base of his neck while she talks, leaning forward to bump his nose at her brow and pressing a fleeting kiss there, content in the domesticity of it all. 

He wants all his mornings to start like this.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you then, thank you.” She closes her call before hanging up, discarding of her phone behind her and focusing her attention back on Nico’s chest.

“Who was that?” He hums as she shuffles back up against him, his hand slithering over her hip to rest on the small of her back.

“Just my ex,” she shrugs, “I’m gonna leave you here on your own and go meet up with him.”

“Wow,” he chuckles, eyes dancing over her lips as they curl into a self-satisfied smirk, “You’ve been dying to fire that bullet, haven’t you?”

“Mmhm, I’m making the most out of my quick wit while I still have it, Luke told me the other day that women’s brains shrink during pregnancy.”

“We need to start taking Google rights away from people.” 

“That’s what I said!” She smiles like she’s proud of the way they think the same things, “It was the doctor’s office. They had a power cut and they’re gonna be running behind so our appointment has been shifted to later.” Her fingers start to dance teasingly across his chest, her tone carrying a suggestive lilt as she continues to speak, her touch moving down as she suggests, “So we could go back to sleep, or we could-,”

He leans up and kisses her with his hands cupping her cheeks, holding her firm against him as he feels her smile against his lips. “I’ll take option two.”

After a blissful morning in Poppy’s apartment, where the two of them, both literally and figuratively, stayed joint at the hip - in her bed, in her shower, no funny business, she said she just wanted to wash his hair, in her kitchen, drinking his morning coffee out of a mug she painted just for him, on her couch, snuggled up when exhaustion caught back up and they had a quick nap together, bad backs be damned - and an early afternoon spent in the doctor’s office, where they learn that their baby is now growing bones, which Poppy should start to feel move soon, and can smile and frown and squint, Nico glides through his afternoon practice with a smile of his own that won’t shift.

He has a new picture that he elatedly displays on the shelf in his cubby, the boys all getting a good look at the now not-so-Cheeto-like shape of his baby, cooing over all the new developments like proud uncles and chirping Nico for the ever-present dopey look on his face. 

No amount of jokes directed his way will ruin this for him, though. 

This feeling of rapture that hasn’t left since he first opened his eyes in the morning. The way his body buzzes at even the thought of the girl waiting for him to finish practice, to come home to an apartment that she had told him earlier to keep the key to, to kiss at her rounding belly and know that their baby is growing hair and limbs and expressions in there.

To finally say goodbye to the baby steps that he’s been taking for what feels like forever, and dive head first into the crystal clear waters of life with Poppy. Sharing a space, being intimate in every which way with one another, it feels like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

And he wants to bask in this feeling for as long as he can, pushing down the impending date of his flight back home, replying to the emails from his national team coach about the upcoming world championship games and then pretending they don’t exist. 

The idea of being in Switzerland for the summer has always filled him with joy - being home, being with his family, it’s where he needs to be after a season like he’s had - losses and injuries and all the turmoil that comes with them - but the thought of being away from Poppy, of missing any of these scans or moments with her and their baby, it fills him with dread. Her mother’s words from their dinner the week before ring through his head like a bell, loud and impossible to ignore. 

Which is why he finds himself heading for her place when his practice is over - after showering at the rink and dropping home to pick up an overnight bag, he drives over with all intentions of spending the night again. Sitting her down and talking over the potential of him flying back out for appointments and visits.

She greets him with a kiss once he’s gotten to her apartment and found her in her kitchen, rendering him stunned for only a second before he responds to her touch, hands falling to her waist and lips closing around hers.

It only drives his point further home that he can’t go too long without seeing her, now. Not if this is how he’s welcomed back, not if this is going to become a thing. 

He pulls her body flush against his, deepening the kiss like it’s been more than a few hours since he last saw her, savouring the taste of her vanilla lip balm and the way her bump presses into his stomach. 

When they part, he finds himself chasing her, pressing quick pecks at her swollen lips until she’s beaming in response, and he feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“Wow, you really are obsessed with me,” she giggles, pressing her hands to his chest to keep him at bay, looking up at him with the glimmer of the light reflecting in her eyes. “You okay?”

“I think your mom was right.”

He doesn’t even know why he said that, the words tumbling out before he can even think them over, and as he can feel his own forehead crease into a frown, and his own brows push together, he sees Poppy’s do the same.

“That might be the most unsexy thing you’ve ever said to me.” She pouts, balm smudged still around her lips as they form into a confused pout that he already wants to kiss away, “Where did that come from?”

“When she said I won’t be around enough,” he flexes his fingers against her hips, tightening his hold on her, “I was thinking about going back home before and I realised I don’t want to miss out on anything, I want to be around if you need me-,”

“Please don’t let her get in your head,” Poppy worries as her hands travel up, her fingers curling delicately around either side of his neck, “She doesn’t understand what being home means to you, she just says things she knows will sting, you shouldn’t have to fly back and forth just to make her happy-,”

“I want to make you happy.”

“You do.” She promises, “When you don’t mention my mother, at least.”

He feels a little better at that, at the conviction of her words, the honesty in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips. But the conversation needs to be had, something needs to be set in place to quell the flickering flames of anxiety that fill his chest before it becomes an inferno. 

Before he can open his mouth to carry on, she speaks instead.

“Go sit down, I have a surprise for you.”

And despite the itch in him to say something else on the topic before she completely shuts it down, he follows her command, the excited sparkle in her eyes hypnotising him into compliance. 

He waits on her couch for her to come over, and when she does, she has a small, white box in hand. Rectangle in shape, around 5 inches deep and 8 inches long.

“What’s this?” He asks when she places the box into his hands, the lid blank and closed.

“Cupcakes.”

“What’s the occasion?” When he goes to lift the lid, she places her hand over his, shuffling until she’s kneeling on the couch, ankles tucked beneath her.

“I’ve been sneaky.”

She looks proud of herself, a sweet grin hesitantly stretching her lips as her eyes dart between his, and he can feel his lips mirror hers.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she hums, “When I had my blood taken before you came in for the scan earlier, I asked Lucy to write down the gender if she could see it clear enough.”

Nico feels his heart stutter.

It’s one of the big things he had feared missing out on, having been told they wouldn’t get a proper view of it until 16 weeks - in another 2 weeks time - at which point he would more than likely be back home. He had resigned himself to finding out over the phone - still exciting, but not the same. “But I thought they couldn’t see it yet?”

“Depends on the position Cheeto wants to be in,” Poppy shrugs, “They do say it isn’t definite, so if it grows or loses an appendage in the next few weeks, blame Lucy, not me.”

“So you know?”

There’s no way she could have hidden it from him, so far. Poppy can’t keep a secret from him to save her life.

“No. Bonnie at the bakery on the corner knows. She hid it in the frosting.”

Nico takes the lid off the box now on his lap, looking into it to see two cupcakes, a thick serving of white frosting and a round, disc-like cake topper with blue and pink writing.

“Baby Hischier?”

He feels warm all over, a static-like tingling spreading across his skin, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck. It all feels so real, so overwhelming. Seeing their baby earlier, the blurred, splotchy shape of it’s head, little features like a nose, lips and eyes starting to form more clearly in the picture. A little baby with his last name.

“It is your baby,” Poppy chuckles, reaching for the box herself and handing one of the cupcakes over to him. 

“No hyphen?” He elaborates, and he can feel his brow twitch of its own accord, catching her eye and making her lips twist, fondly, in the way that makes him already anticipate some smart-ass comeback.

“It’s a cupcake, not a billboard,” she quips, “We could do that, it that’s what you want?”

“I thought that would be what you wanted.” If it is, he’ll do it that way, but God does he all of a sudden hate hyphens. 

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. Hischier just felt right when I wrote it down for Bonnie. I like your name.”

You can have it, he thinks.

“The less claim my family have to our baby, the better. Plus, it’s kind of the tradition, to give the baby it’s father’s surname.”

“Because we’re so traditional,” he chuckles, liking the way he makes her laugh, too.

“That’s true. Maybe we should make up a name, then? Say, fuck the system,”

“Hischier’s fine.” He says, resolutely, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him, and he only feels slightly ashamed of it.

“Hischier is great.” She reassures him, enough to make his chest puff with pride, and the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth is enough to tell him she’s proud of her own teasing - and all too aware of his mini-neanderthal moment. “Can we get on with it, I’ve been glaring at this box all afternoon.”

“I don’t know, I’m all of a sudden nervous about eating a cupcake.”

“Welcome to my first trimester.”

He can feel the beat of his heart in every inch of his body.

He hasn’t really given it much thought, before now, if there’s any specific gender he wants it to be. He’s always thought it corny, when people say I just want a healthy baby, but that truly is all he wants.

He sees the best of both worlds - a mini him, or a mini Poppy. Half of each of them in one bundle of joy.

He’ll be in love with it, either way.

“We’ve just got to do it,” Poppy says, placing the box down on the coffee table and holding her cupcake across from his. “Close your eyes and take a bite after three.”

He nods, before cheers-ing his cupcake against hers, and then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for Poppy to start the countdown. 

“One…” He peaks an eye open, watching and unable to stop the grin that spreads into his cheeks, already. “Two…”

She opens an eye, too.

“Close your eyes, Mohn.” He warns her.

“I was checking yours were closed.”

He makes a show of scrunching them shut, assuming she’s doing the same, and she starts the countdown back up again.

On three, he takes a bite and opens his eyes, disregarding whatever colour sits on his own cupcake and immediately watching for Poppy’s reaction.

Her bite had been clumsy, the frosting smearing on her lips, and where he had wanted to see her eyes light up, his gaze is stuck in a magnetised grip to the soft pink colour of the sugary goodness that now surrounds her mouth. 

A girl.

A mini Poppy - pretty eyes, a killer smile that he folds to in an instant, a sharp tongue that fills his life with equal parts sarcasm and light.

He’s so done for.

Before he can help himself, he discards his cupcake onto the coffee table and pounces forward, hoping that she flings hers in the same direction as he takes her face between both hands and pulls her lips into his, licking the frosting straight from them before he kisses her with all the passion he can muster.

It’s messy, he can feel the icing transfer to his own upper lip, tasting the sugar as she giggles into his mouth, and his whole body lights up with the joy of it all, their teeth clashing in a messy abundance of shared glee.

He can’t get enough of this feeling, of the sound of her blissful laughter, and so even when they part, he keeps going back for more, pressing his lips to any part of her face he can reach - her lips, her chin, her nose, her cheeks - and when they’re touching the corner of her mouth, he feels the movement of it as she asks, “Are you happy?”

“So happy.” It’s an understatement, but he’s hard pressed to think of more elaborate wording, so he kisses her again before saying, “Come home with me. To Switzerland. I don’t want to spend another summer missing you, Poppy. I don’t want to be apart from you and our baby girl.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked before. He knows it’s what he’s wanted this whole time, to be in the place he loves the most with the girls he might love more. 

“Really?”

“I wanna share the other half of my life with you. We can sort out a doctor so we don’t have to fly back and forth or miss any appointments, and it gives my family a chance to spend time with you, I can show you all my favourite places, we can-,”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Nico, I’m already there.”

“Yeah?” The thumping of his heart is so vigorous he thinks she can probably see it, breaking out of his chest and flying out toward her like a cartoon. 

“I’m hardly gonna say no to a European summer.” She teases with a shrug, licking at the remaining frosting on her lips before she leans in to press them softly against his, again. 

“The fact I’m there is just a bonus?”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[capturethechaos]

The Singles [4] - Evan Buckley

Evan Buckley x Reader

Word count: 1281

Parts: [1] [2] [3]

Buck and Y/N are both unlucky in love, but will the luck change when Y/N transfers to the 118?

— — — — —

[January 4th, 5 p.m] Y/N's P.O.V -"Maddie please, I don't know what to do, he's your brother, don't you know everything?" I begged over the phone.

"You know Buck, he is very flirty, but sometimes he doesn't get the hint. Just ask him on a date, and not that you need to, but you could butter him up. You've got a shift with him tonight right? Make dinner for the station, we both know he loves your cooking." Maddie replied.

"Okay... yeah.... I can do that. Maddie you are the best person ever, I love you!" I said, getting off of my couch and making my way to the kitchen.

"Any time Y/N, you know I'm rooting for you two to get together, I think everyone is." She replied, a light giggle escaping as she spoke.

-- -- --

My timing, as always, was impeccable. 

Just as I closed my car door, casserole dish in hand, the fire engine pulled into the station. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face when I saw Buck jump out of the truck, so full of energy.

"Y/N! You're early, I thought your shift didn't start till seven." Eddie said when he caught sight of me.

"Thought I'd come in early with some dinner, figured you'd be getting take out tonight." I explained, slightly raising the casserole dish and grocery bag.

Buck turned quick at the mention of my name, I'm not even sure he heard what I said, he seemed to busy drinking in my appearance to pay attention to the food.

"So what's for dinner?" Chimney asked, walking towards me and eyeing the casserole dish like a vulture.

"Chicken Alfredo penne, I also got stuff to make Caesar salad and garlic bread." I replied, handing Chim the bag when he extended his hand to take it from me.

"You spoil us, we'll be up in a minute to help you out." Bobby said as he rounded the corner of the ladder truck.

Chim carried the bag up to the kitchen with me, then washed his hands before helping to make the salad whilst I put the garlic bread and pasta in the oven to heat up. I looked up when I heard footsteps speeding up the stairs, and was met with the sight of a very smiley looking Buck.

"Alright, what can I help with?"

"Well, it looks like Chims got the salad pretty much taken care of... so you can just stand there and look pretty... or you can help me set the table." I said, shooting him a wink.

The blush that flushed over his cheeks made my confidence go a little higher than it should have.

"I'll get the dishes, you get the cutlery?" He said, sliding as close as he could behind me as he spoke.

"I- ugh- yeah, sounds good." I stammered as I opened the cutlery drawer. I could the the smirk on his face as I looked up, obviously proud of himself for getting me flustered.

The rest of the team came up just in time to see my blushing, and Buck practically dancing around the table. I'm sure they came to a conclusion quite quickly as to what had happened.

"Y/N, it smells delicious, as always." Hen said as she sat herself down at the table.

The tension between buck and I only continued, as he snuck in right beside me, and brushed his hand over my own as I checked on the food in the oven.

"Is it almost ready." He near whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Yes, and unless you'd like to get burned, you should step away from the oven." I replied , turning my head to face him, and realizing just how close he was when our noses touched.

He stepped away and straightened up, rocking from heel to toe impatiently.

"Alright who's ready to eat?" I asked as I pulled the pasta and garlic bread out of the oven.

A round of positive responses echoed my way as I handed the casserole dish to Buck to put on the table, and I cut the garlic bread.

[9pm]

The bell went off just before 9, and when we heard the call came from a 6 year old boy, we went faster than I've been seen us get to a call .According to dispatch the boy called and said his mommy got a boo boo on her head and wouldn't wake up. 

My heart was aching before we had even entered the house. She must have slipped getting out of the shower and hit her head on the edge of the tub. She had a large gash in her head, and bruises weds already starting to form on her arm and face; her son must have heard the crash and come running to check on his mom.

"Chim, Hen, you got her? I'm gonna check on the kid." I said, stepping away from the two of them after we had gotten her on the backboard.

"Yeah we're good." Hen replied, watching as I walked towards the crying boy. 

I crouched down to his level and watched as he clutched his stuffed animal tight against himself.

"Hey buddy, can we chat for a minute?" He continued to sniffle, before looking up at me.

"Hey little man, how are you feeling?" I asked.

"Is my mommy gonna be okay?" He asked, sniffling and wiping his nose as he spoke.

"Yeah buddy, she'll be alright, you see those two over there with her? Those are my friends, and they're doing everything they can to make sure she'll be okay." I explained.

He nodded his head and stayed silent. I looked up and saw we were getting ready to leave so I stood and walked over to Buck and Bobby.

"What are we gonna do with the kid? We can't just leave him." I asked.

"His dad is a cop, he's meeting us at the hospital so we'll have to take him with us." Bobby explained.

"Okay, can you take him in the truck, I don't want him to see her in the ambulance, she's not looking her best and that kid shouldn't have to see his mother like that." I asked, knowing that if something happened on the way to the hospital, the last person we needed in the ambulance was her kid.

"That sounds good to me, I'll let everyone know, you get the kid." Bobby said before walking towards the team.

I walked back to the boy and knelt down to his level once again.

"Hey, so we have to go, but your daddy is gonna meet us at the hospital, so you are gonna come along for a ride is that alright?" I asked.

He looked up at me and squeezed his stuffed animal, nodding.

"Okay buddy, see my friend over there? His name is Buck and he is gonna help you get up into the fire truck okay." I explained, waving buck to come over to us.

"Okay." The boy mumbled.

"Hey little man, let's get you up into the fire truck so we can get going." Buck said when he got to the two of us.

I stood up and put out my hand for the boy, which he quickly took, and we walked over to the truck.

"Okay buddy, you're gonna go up into the truck okay, I'm gonna go to the truck with your mommy but we'll see you at the hospital alright." I explained to the boy.

He nodded his head and let go of my hand, letting buck lift him into the truck as I walked over to the ambulance.

— — — — —

A/N - Surprise, I’ve come back from the dead! Sorry for being gone for so long, but here is a new chapter that I hope you enjoy!

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 6

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3.8k+ [part 6] 

a/n: I am posting a bit later today. I am sorry but I hope you will enjoy this part!  I was too busy to check grammar, so I am sorry if you see any mistakes. English is not my first language. :) Enjooooy ♥

taglist: @njrwifey​ @danietoww04​ [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

You could see him smirking even in the darkness. His teeth were showing and the bright white colour pulled your eyes in. “That is not necessary,” He came closer to you and you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your body. The familiar voice made your knees go weak and you were about to fall down. With a scream, lord Black was ready to save you from falling but Jungkook’s strong arms held you still. He let go of you soon enough seeing the older man pulling the chair for you to sit down. “Are you okay?” Lord Black was worried about your well-being but your aunt hit her fist on the table. “Don’t spoil her, Lord Black.” You looked down on the chair and shook your head slightly showing him that you do not want to sit on it. Lord Black frowned and looked at your aunt. “I am sure she deserves to sit down after living with you. She deserves to relax.” With trembling fingers, he removed hair from your forehead. “You scared me, Y/N.” You looked into the lord’s eyes and whispered. “I am sorry.“ Suddenly you had the need to cover your already clothed body. You knew the feeling. You felt Jungkook’s hungry eyes on your body who was already taking off your clothes with the sight. You were about to say something but your aunt interrupted you telling you what to do. “Now tell us again what happened. Lord Black wants to know all the details because he wants to be sure there is no injustice towards captain Jeon. To put it simply, he does not want to make the captain Jeon father of your bastard when there is a possibility of it… well, not being his.“ Lord Black exhaled and pressed his lips together not wanting to sound rude. “Dear lady, I am sure I can speak for myself. So please, let me do that.” With that, he turned to you and held your hands in his. “Y/N, tell me.” He started hesitantly. “I have my honour and I cannot force captain Jeon to be the father of your child, while I am not one hundred percent sure, that he is the father. So tell me, was there some el-“ He wanted to continue but you shook your head as the answer. “There was no one else. When I left his ship, one man of his crew got me a carry and with that, I came to my aunt’s house. My aunt is the witness when I came there.” You looked down and your aunt stood up hitting the table once again. “And when she came in, I did not let her out of my sight.“ Your aunt smirked as if proud that she made you into the prisoner. “What about before that?” You shook your head and Jungkook who was the entire time completely silent tilted his head to the side and smiled proudly. “I am the father.” Your aunt giggled and turned to the lord Black. “See? He admitted that.” Lord Black sighed and nodded. “I should have taken Y/N away from you all these years ago, she would have not suffered with me.” The aunt’s eyebrows furrowed. “It is not my fault that she’s s slut. She shouldn’t have gone to bed with that man-“ She was mad but you could not take it. Not when you knew all she was saying was not the truth. “No!” You screamed which surprised everyone in the room but your aunt did not hesitate and walked towards you slapping you right across the cheek. She forgot she had a ring on her finger which caused your skin to tear a little near your lips and a little cut was filled with the blood.

You could hear a jar hitting the table loudly from behind you after the harsh slap. It surprised the lord and he backed away from Jungkook who placed his hand on the table and stared at your aunt. His cold deep voice caused you to run your hand down to your stomach. “Madam, I believe you are behaving more than inappropriate. You act like a savage, if you were a man, I would ask you to repay for what you just did. You touched something that belongs to me.” He was mad and you knew it. After that one night, you knew what you could do and could not, but your aunt did not know as much. “It will be better if Y/N went to the bed. She is tired and confused.” You were relieved that you might finally go since Jungkook said that he was the father and he wanted you to go. You stood up, passing by your aunt ready to leave the room but your aunt changed the plans. “No! She will stay here since she caused all of this! I kept on telling her that her body is the art of the devil. No normal woman would cause this trouble. Just look at her body.” She grabbed your dress and with a swift pull she ripped them apart letting the material fall to your feet.

Jungkook who was sitting the whole time stood up so quickly it caused the chair to fall. With fast steps, he walked towards the opposite side of the room. Your aunt got scared when she looked at him, she remembered that she always called you a slut and witch, but this man was Lucifer. She tried to put oh her hand to protect herself but Jungkook swiftly pulled down his cloak ignoring her. The captain wrapped the material around your body after seeing you wrap your arms around yourself to cover the nakedness. You felt the heaviness of his cloak which was soaked due to the heavy rain. You were shaking but not because of the coldness but because he was so close. Him being close scared you more than anything else in this world. “Enough,” Jungkook said coldly. “This woman has my child and I am responsible for everything. I will not return home right away but will stay here for a bit more. I will look for the house for her and for the stuff that will serve there. I will provide everything for Y/N.” He turned away from you looking at your aunt. “I wanted this to be my last voyage, but I will return once a year to provide for her and my child.” He walked towards the aunt and frowned. “I have to do that because she cannot stay with her abusive family anymore. I am worried they might hurt my child too. I am warning you madam, do not touch the girl while she is in your care, or you will regret it.” Then Jungkook’s sight when to the older male in the room and sighed. “I am done here, when you will need something, then find me on my ship.“ With that Jungkook walked out of the room. As he passed you by you noticed his handsome face that was frowning and realised there he did not talk about the marriage. He said that he would take care of you and your child but never mentioned the word marriage. He will make you a mistress. Just as he wanted. You froze still once you heard your aunt’s words. “Once we will be done with him, he will not act to mighty.“ You heard her giggling and lord Black’s sigh. “I hate doing what you want, madam but I have to. For Y/N. But let me tell you, you should listen to captain Jeon. He is hot-tempered. It would be better if you did not touch Y/N anymore. Not like you had any good reason to anyways.“ He looked at you once he heard your aunt. “He has no right to command me around. I will do whatever I want. I will do whatever I want to her.” Lord Black come closer to you and pat your head gently turning again towards your aunt. “You are wrong, madam. He has every right to do so. He is the father of the child and in a few hours, he is going to be Y/N’s husband.“

The gentle sun rays came through the windows that still had residue raindrops of last night’s rain and touched your face. You covered your face with the right arm and turned to the side groaning. You covered your head with the blanket and tried to continue dreaming about your father and mother who were smiling.  You knew you were awake and were not happy about it but you uncovered your face and inhaled the fresh air that came through the window. For the first time in a long time, you did not feel morning sickness and it honestly surprised you. You sat up opening your eyes wide. You realised where you were and looked to the side to see Jungkook’s cloak on the arm of the chair. “Idiot,“ you mumbled remembering last night’s event where you met him once again. “He thinks, that he can just buy me a home and keep me there as a mistress. I’d rather chose to give birth to my son as a prostitute than being his …well whatever.“ You said to yourself, thinking about Jungkook and his plan. I am sure he is thinking of how he is going to take me to his bed again. He for sure thinks that I will be glad for everything and I will let him do anything he wants. But he is wrong! You huffed and hit the innocent blanket then pushed it away. If he thinks that I will let him touch me he is wrong. I will not let him see his child grow inside me. The anger was speaking but even more the fear. You were scared that he would not be gentle and might hurt a little baby inside you. He wanted to take you as a mistress saying that he would treat you nicely, but you were sure if by any chance they will make him marry you, he would hate you. He would be angry and he would take you right there, even if it would be in the middle of the room.

Soon you could hear the soft knock on the door and because you did not want to wear his cloak, you pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped yourself into it. With that, you walked towards the door and opened them. You saw an older woman standing in front of you. “Hello miss, I am Ms Moon,” with a smile she introduced herself and made her way inside the room. When you were about to close the door, she pointed at the door. “these girls are going to help you with anything you need.” Suddenly a few girls bowed to you that you did not notice before. “We came here because lord Black asked us to help you with the wedding.” You weren’t sure if you heard her correctly. Wedding? You felt a stinging pain in your heart and you had to hold the door handle tighter to support yourself. The fear came back and you tried your best not to show Ms Moon how scared you were. Your legs were shaking, but she did not notice it. Instead, she looked around the room not looking at you and asked happily. “Have you eaten already, my dear?” She turned to you waiting for the answer. A little “No,” escaped your lips. You walked towards the closest chair and sat down on it, not knowing if you would be able to stand any longer. The older woman did not notice your pale face and decided to make your bed while explaining to you. “Don’t worry then, I will send one of the girls to get you something for breakfast. We cannot let you be hungry during the most important moment of your life.“ Your expression was blank. You knew what was happening but did not want to accept reality. You covered your face with both hands and rubbed them frustrated. “When is the wedding?” She turned to you confused wondering why did you not know about your own wedding. “In the afternoon,” She smiled and realised they may have wanted to surprise you. How foolish of the woman but after all, not everyone had to know the real reason behind your quick marriage.  You sighed and nodded. “I think they did not want to tell you exactly when because they want to surprise you. I bet your groom is eager to marry you. You are so beautiful, my dear.” She giggled but you did not listen to her. Your only thoughts went to the man you feared and how soon you will be laying in his bed again. How you are going to feel his breath on your lips and his hands on your body. Even though you were scared, the thoughts brought a blush to your cheeks at the imagination. He won’t be gentle. he won’t care if he hurts me. Nervously you stood up and walked to the window. When you realised you caused the tension in the room, you bit your lower lip trying to calm yourself. You wished there would be more time before it actually happens but here you are, just a few hours before the wedding ceremony.

It was lunchtime when the maids brought to you your last meal as a single woman. You were pretending to be hungry and took bites of the bread and kept throwing other things to the stay dog that was on the street through the window. When they took the dishes away and started brushing your hair, Ms Moon came closer and sprayed you with perfume. “I know you are beautiful, but either way this perfume will make your husband want you even more.“ She winked at you took out the white dress wife of lord Black sent you. You looked at the beautiful dress sighing. It was beautiful and if there would be another occasion, you would be happy to wear it. You would feel like in a fairytale in that kind of dress, but this is not the fairytale and you were not even hoping for a happy ending. They finished putting on your clothes and you did not even realise they were done until you heard the older lady gasping. “There is no prettier woman than you, my dear.” You were apathetic. You did not care how you looked like since you know what is going to happen to this dress. It is going to be ripped apart once I walk into the same room as my soon-to-be husband.

You turned to the door once you heard a knock and nodded to the maid letting her know that she could open them. Your aunt walked in and smirked when she saw you. “I see that you are all dressed up. I bet you are thinking how beautiful you look, am I right? But honestly, you don’t look any better than you looked like in my dress. Still like trash!” Ms Moon who was smiling at first frowned and stood in front of you. “Excuse me, madam, but I believe what you are saying is highly inappropriate. I have never seen a more beautiful girl, than Y/N.” Your aunt tilted the head to the side raising her eyebrows and replied. “She is the devil’s daughter. Her beauty is his work and no man that will see her will find peace. She only brings disaster. The man she is marrying is the devil just like herself!“ She spat the last sentence and Ms Moon held your hand squeezing it. “This girl is an angel” You were honestly glad that someone thought of you like that but when your aunt opened her mouth again, you froze. “Angel?! I bet you do not know the real reason why she is getting married so quickly!” She was about to continue but Ms Moon interrupted her. “Because her husband wants her to be his as soon as possible. That is why!”  Your aunt was ready to tell her the truth but stopped. You wondered if it was because she did not want to embarrass herself or because of the fear she felt thanks to Jeon Jungkook’s aura. The aunt inhaled as if to try to calm down and smiled fakely. “I have to admit, I will be happy once you are gone out of my life.” She spat looking at you. “Taking care of you was no pleasure.” You backed away after she hit you with hateful words. You did not expect that even though you knew she was always harsh. The tears in your eyes caused you to turn to the window once again. You did not want her to see how much the words hurt you. For the last ten years, you did not feel any love from your family. You wanted to feel it but was okay with no affection. Now all you wanted was love for your unborn child, but you were also worried Jungkook would not love him. You did not want your child to hate you just because you forced his father to marry you. You wished for your little baby to always love you. You were worried you would not be loved again in your life. You closed your eyes tightly preventing the tears to fall down and your hand slid down to your belly. You wanted to protect the little one growing inside even if it meant throwing yourself away. “It is the time, my dear.”  Ms Mood said smiling but there was also a hit of worry in her eyes. She was sure you were going to better hands than your aunt’s but it still did not sit right with her. She shook her head wanting to throw away the useless thought and pat your shoulder. “Come on, my dear. Your beloved awaits. Let's not keep him waiting anymore.”

“You look wonderful,” whispered the older woman who you met just in the morning and you slowly nodded thanking her. She did the last touches on your hair and moved the diadem on your head a bit to the side so it would look right from all the sides. “Like a queen.” She pinched your right cheek and smiled which you reciprocated. The music changed to the traditional ceremonial and your heartbeat got suddenly faster. “Is he inside, already?” you asked softly not wanting to look inside the church. “Who? Your soon-to-be husband?” She laughed and continued. “He is waiting for you inside. I think he is ready to marry you. Well, who wouldn’t be?” She asked not expecting the answer. She looked at you with a motherly look and sighed. “Y/N, listen to me.” She said not wanting to sound too serious. “Everything will be alright. He loves you, otherwise, he would not marry you. You don’t have to worry too much. Calm down and go find your happiness.” Her words were encouraging but she did not know the whole truth. She did not know that he raped you and that you were expecting his child. She also did not know that the made him marry you. She did not know anything, but her words calmed you down a little. “And let me tell you, he is handsome. If I were younger, I would have stolen him from you.” She winked at you and you smiled. She turned to the door and pushed you softly forward. You knew it was the time.

When you walked inside the church, lord Black lent you his arm to hold onto as a replacement for your father. You did not look at him, because your eyes were locked with Jungkook’s burning dark gaze. He looked wonderful. The satin dark green suit went well with his dark eyes. You bit your lower lip as you walked closer. When you finally stood next to him, you felt so little compared to Jungkook. At that moment no one looked taller than him. The light from the candle was showing up on his face that was frowning the entire time. He looked so cold and you tried your best not to run away from there. Nervously you clenched your teeth and quickly looked away from him. You found comfort in the priest’s face who smiled at both of you and nodded. The ceremony did not take a long time as usual but instead, the priest asked the most important question a few minutes after everything began. Jungkook was the first to answer, but hearing his cold voice sent shivers down your spine. “I, Jeon Jungkook, take you Y/N Y/L/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife…“ You could not hear him finishing the sentence, thinking about his face and the tone of his voice. He really must hate me for what they did. For what I did. When you realised the was a silence you widened your eyes knowing it was your turn to repeat Jungkook’s words. You did so quietly as if not wanting others to hear it. Jungkook took your hand into his and put a ring on your finger. With that, both of you turned to the priest and bowed down to show respect. When you both turned to each other, Jungkook looked into your eyes still holding your hand. He whispered#. “I think it is the tradition for a husband to kiss his wife,“ you nodded a little agreeing with the statement. You looked away, not wanting to look at him. Your heart beat rapidly and even though others could see it because it was slightly showing on the dress how nervous you and your heart were. With long fingers, Jungkook pulled you closer to him and placed his hand on your jaw squeezing it a bit, to hold you in place. The other hand sneaked behind your head and then he pulled you into his embrace. He held you so close as if wanting to show others that you were his. That he now owned you. The colour of your face disappeared and you opened your eyes wide. His arms felt like burning steel when he pulled you close. He leaned down to your face and opened his lips. You inhaled and he connected your lips in a heated kiss. It was the same kind of kiss as he gave you on his ship. It was full of passion, lust and need. You could feel the eyes of other people on you, but Jungkook did not seem like he really minded that. When you pushed him away from you blushing looking at the others, Jungkook smirked and tilted his head to the side licking his lips. Finally mine, little one.

Part 7

a/n: So they are married. Geezzz, looks like there is no way to run away now. Anyways, I have a question for you guys. Do you want me to post longer chapters but only once a week or three shorter ones  a week? ♥ Please let me know! 

[mimzy-writing-online]

How do you handle casual ableism especially ableism that’s said to be “a joke”? I am blind and I get this all the time and it’s so annoying because I can’t win.

If it’s said by someone I know I probably won’t talk to much, if ever again, I just grin and bear it. If I’m invested in this friendship or know I’ll be working with them a lot, then I’ll say something. But I do have some personal pet-peeves.

“Oh, so you’re blind, but not like, blind-blind.” 

Whenever I explain to someone new that I’m visually impaired and what I see, I sometimes get the “oh, so you’re blind, but not like, blind-blind.” and I just... *internal screaming*

I hate it because it reinforces this hierarchy of “who has it worst in the world” that abled society has. It’s like saying, “oh, you’re blind, but at least you don’t have cancer.” That is insensitive to both people who are blind, people who have cancer, and people who have both. 

Everyone is going through their own stuff, and sometimes it feels debilitating and sometimes it feels normal. Undermining someone’s experiences by saying/implying someone has it worse is terrible and even worse is using that idea to say “oh, then you don’t need this accommodation that badly, you’re not disabled-disabled.”

I am blind. Just blind. I have a condition that highly affects my life and just because there are a few settings where I can pass for sighted, does not mean that I am not blind.

And those people feed my internalized ableism and imposter syndrome so that I begin to think “I’m not that blind, people have so much less sight than me” and begin to feel like I don’t deserve any of my accommodations, even my cane when my worst days hit. My cane, that thing I bought myself that affects no one apart from warning them I can’t see them, but means everything to me.

What I would like to say: “I am blind. What I’m describing might sound like no big deal to you, but it affects my life every day and I will never, under any circumstances, see as much as a sighted person. Please stop comparing my disability to other disabilities.”

“Can you use your cane as a weapon?”

It was funny the first 3-4 times I heard it, but strangers say it to me constantly and it’s just like... “oh, them Lakers” or “How’s the weather up there” or some other cliché joke that has been told to death. And these strangers don’t realize how unoriginal it is because they probably never interact with other blind people, but I hear it all the fricken time.

I’ve explained to friends that I don’t like this joke. And I have an example of it in A Witch’s Memory, specifically Ulric’s second chapter. But like, I cannot control what strangers think is funny.

What I would like to say: “I cannot. Canes are much more fragile than you think, and each one has cost me $50 each. And I’ve had... six? Over the years. And they take weeks to ship to me. I would be terrified of my cane getting damaged.”

“I bet you’re looking forward to robot eyes.”

No. I’m not. I’m really not. Leave my eyes the fuck alone.

This was waaaaaay before I was diagnosed with Visual Snow Syndrome, which is a neurological problem, not an eye problem, even if the symptoms that affect me most are visual.

And as for the ableism, there’s soooo so much in that statement:

“Oh, I bet you’re looking forward to getting cured”

“I think being blind is terrible, I would want robot eyes immediately”

And if I said that I didn’t want robot eyes ever, I’d almost always get:

“I bet it wouldn’t be that bad, you’d be a cyborg. How cool is that?”

I said no the first time. Respect that answer. It’s my body, my eyes. I’m so tired of this debate.

The only form of this conversation I will ever accept is from my best friend who admitted that he personally would jump at the chance for cybernetic enhancements, especially something that reduced chronic pain. There are some more personal issues I won’t disclose, but from his perspective I understood and we came to the acceptance that we had very different stances and that was okay so long as we respected each other’s choices.

What I would like to say: “I have considered this and personally decided that under no circumstances would I ever want this kind of surgery done to me. Please respect that choice and don’t joke about experimental surgeries with me.”

“Just consider me your personal human guide dog.”

Only one person has ever said this to me, but he’s said it several times while acting as my sighted guide and I hate it, not because there is any ableism directed at me, but because he’s calling himself less than human and I wish he treated himself better. He deserves better. My solution is just saying nice things to him every chance I get about how much I care about him and how he is good.

“Fuck you! I love you! Don’t you dare call yourself a dog. You’re amazing and I love you.”

“Well you’re able-bodied.”

Said to me by another person with a disability, specifically a chronic illness, while complaining about why I couldn’t do something for him.

It was my father.

and I just...

I have literally never not been disabled in some capacity.

I remember my ADHD affected me from the early age of six years old and how much that affected my self esteem. I started having chronic health problems (mostly due to anxiety) as soon as I entered my teenage years. The worst was when I was 19. And then I went blind.

I am in no way able-bodied. Do not throw this hierarchy of who’s more disabled at me. I physically cannot handle the task you asked me to do without physical pain following me for the rest of the day. It’s either going to have to get done by someone else, or I’m going to need help. Why do I need to be in pain all day for this?

You’re young, therefore you are able-bodied.

You means nothing in terms of disability! Lots of people are disabled, visibly and invisibly. And if your kid needs disability aids to perform normal tasks like walking safely outside, you shouldn’t be calling them able bodied.

What I would like to say: “I am not able bodied. I am far from it. What you’re asking me to do will either risk serious injury to me or will cause me serious, lasting pain. Please respect my physical limitations.”

“And on your right you and hear, smell, taste, touch the ocean.”

It was a joke by a close friend when we were on a road trip. Also, we were in a car on the freeway, literally, none of those things would be possible from that distance because all I would hear and smell would be car fumes. 

Like, okay, I know I can’t enjoy the scenic view the way sighted people can, but I am enjoying this drive in my own way. Even the visuals I can see are nice(ish). It’s stimulation, something different for my brain. I’m having fun listening to the music and your story while we move and there are shapes and faded colors passing us.

I’m experiencing this amazing road trip.

Maybe it’s not the way you would experience or best enjoy it, but I am having fun, don’t spoil it by reminding me that I’m different from you and that my experience “must be less enjoyable.”

I told him: “I don’t like those jokes. They aren’t funny to me. I don’t need to see it to enjoy it.” And he stopped. He never made another one after that drive.

(He’s also one of those people who has serious anxiety around making someone uncomfortable, and me telling him “hey I don’t like this, can we do this instead” actually helps us both, because I’m no longer uncomfortable and he can trust that I would immediately tell him if he ever did something I didn’t like. If I’m not speaking up, then I am good. And I can trust that he will stop as soon as I tell him to, and that I can always speak up if I need to.)

[btsmakesmehappy]

Sweet Scent | 4

Genre: Agent au. Colleague au. Mutual pining. Angst with Fluff at the end

Pairing: Agent!Jungkook x Forensic Doctor!reader

Word Count: 10k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: reader feels a little insecure. reader is held on a gun point. (Not too explicit) violence. Guns. Reader and JK are hurt. Angsty with fluffly ending. I think it’s all? (Please tell me if I miss something!)

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | completed

Summary: Why does he always look so nervous in front of you? Is it because of your excessive flirting? But how come you don’t tease him when he looks so incredibly cute every time he blushes?

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: Thank you for @arizonapoppy for betareading mine. You’re the best! Also the next part (sequel/drabble) will be posted next year just so the timeline makes more sense. So the next update will be the other member <3 Hope you enjoy!

Send an ASK if you want to be added in the taglist!

A knock on the door made you turn your head in confusion. You’re not expecting anyone right now. It’s almost nine o’clock in the night, and the building should be emptied by now, it’s past the office-hours.

Maybe a new case?

With the thought of that, your smile was beaming. You rose from the chair quickly and walked to the door. It’s the person behind the door that made you thank God that you decided to stay late at the Company.

Jeon Jungkook.

It’s been a month since you saw him in the firing range. You’re hoping to meet him again somewhere in the building, especially the cafeteria (because there is some information that you’d find him there), but you’ve never got the chance. The funniest thing was the other colleagues always found him there, except you. It’s just like destiny didn’t want you to meet him.

You believed in destiny. You believed in the universe.

You believed in the fall-in-love -at-the-first-sight. You believed in there’s sparks when you grazed someone's hand. You believed in the fallen books when you bumped the one in the corner of the street. You believed in the stranger sitting beside you on the plane while you’re travelling.

But unluckily for you, that’s never happened.

Still, you tried to believe in destiny, hoping to get some of it in your life.

After a month sitting in the cafeteria, waiting to bump a certain someone there, you’re getting tired of waiting for destiny. Well, even though you’d met him, would you still call it destiny? Weren’t you forcing it?

Which is why, it’s so weird how the universe just sent him to you that day. The day when you skipped washing your hair for the four days because you overslept and you’d tie it into a bun anyway. The day when your eyebrow pencil suddenly went missing. The day when you ate tomato pasta and dropped it on your shirt, leaving your white shirt with a huge red stain on the chest.

Why should it be that day?

Maybe the universe hated you.

“Y/N, right?”

His voice rang like a church bell, ringing through your ears and shaking your entire body. It’s almost magical that he sounded like an angel, and you longed him.

You couldn’t remember how long you looked at him, as his face turned red and uncomfortable. “He-Hello?” He timidly asked.

You shook your head quickly, “Ah, sorry. What can I do for you?” You opened the door widely as you gestured to him to come inside.

But Jungkook stayed in his spot, outside the doorway. He lowered his head to look at the paper in his hand, refusing to look at your eyes. “I need a report from the Ahn case.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning to the door frame. “About that, I don’t think it will be done by tomorrow. As you know Doctor Lee is still sick, so there’s no one to finalize the report.”

Jungkook bites his lips and sighed. “Yeah, I heard. Can you just- you know what, nevermind. Thank you.”

He bowed to you slightly and walked away. Even his body was that bulky, you could see how tired he was from behind. And somehow it hit a soft spot in your heart.

And maybe, you just wanted to be with him.

“Hey!” You yelled, he turned his back to you in confusion. “Do you want to see the report for a bit?”

Three days.

Three days you rejected every call from Jungkook. Three days you ignored all the knocks at the door from him. Three days you deleted all the messages he sent without even reading them. Three days.

And by Friday, you’re back to work, only because your days off are over. And unfortunately for you, Jungkook knows it too. It’s about time for you two to meet each other. It’s about time for you to stop avoiding him.

So, on that same day, you wake earlier than usual, leaving your apartment earlier than usual, but still go to work as late as you can. You hide at the bakery near the Company, eating a chocolate croissant, drawing it out by pulling it into flakey pieces, procrastinating.

You still can’t meet him yet. You don’t want to.

You walk as fast as you can to the elevator when you arrive at the Company. You look left and right as you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator. This elevator is taking so long.

“Y/N!”

You tense as you hear your name, looking timidly to the source of the voice. Please don’t be Jungkook, please. And when you look at the man standing behind you, you sigh in relief. “Hey, Jimin. What’s up?”

“How are you doing? Why do you look so pale? See a ghost?” Jimin asks while resting his arm on your shoulder.

You laugh awkwardly. “Ah really? Maybe just from the lack of sleep.”

He looks at you weirdly. “You literally had days off, why did you have a lack of sleep?”

You clear your throat, there is no way you would tell him about what happened and how it bothered your sleep so much. How his best friend and colleague is the reason for your tiredness. “Just some Netflix. Catching some dramas.”

“Really? What drama did you watch?” He asks excitedly.

“Uhh. Itaewon Class?” You let it slip your mouth. You don’t even know what the drama is about, only heard the title from Sehun a week ago.

Jimin looks at you with widened eyes and takes a step backward. “Well, I shouldn’t be too close with you then. I don’t want to be spoiled. I haven’t watched all of the episodes.”

You smile. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” In the corner of your eyes you can see a familiar man walking to both of you, a man that you want to avoid. Somehow in the middle of a busy lobby, your eyes were still drawn to Jungkook. He still doesn’t see you, which is good news. Checking the elevator, you hiss softly because it is still on the eleventh floor. Too long. “Anyway, I’m gonna have a call first. See you later!” You walk away from Jimin, without spending another glance. You need to get out of there, fast.

You still can’t see him yet.

Lucky for you, you decided to wear sneakers today. At least you can run four flights of stairs without being afraid of sprained ankles.

“Hey Kook!” Jimin calls and waves excitedly. “Overslept?”

Jungkook smiles weakly. “You can say that.” Lie. In fact, he woke up earlier than usual and he went to your apartment, and after two hours of waiting in front of your apartment like a persistent stalker, he finally realized that you’d already left the apartment. But Jimin doesn’t need to know that.

Jimin nods in understanding. “Oh, you know who’s come back to the Company? Y/N! Apparently her days off have ended. Actually, she was here just now.”

“Really?” Jungkook asks with widened eyes. “Where is she now?”

Jungkook’s reaction catches Jimin off-guard. The way Jungkook finally shows some interests in you, makes Jimin happy. “Well.. She said that she’s calling someone. You know, since you can’t have a phone call inside the elevator. But I don’t know where she is.”

Jungkook looks around him, but he still can’t find you. A thought drifts into his head, that you saw him and still didn’t want to meet him. And with that thought, he feels a stab in his heart.

Jungkook, you’re so stupid. You’re drunk stupid.

He wants to hit himself. Oh, he would if he can, especially in front of you. Not that he wants to show off or something, he just wants you to know how terrible and bad he feels about what he’s done. He even swore himself that he won’t get drunk ever again.

You stupid drunk jerk.

Even if you wanted to see him, what should he say? He hasn’t thought about it, and yet he called, messaged, and came to your apartment for three days in desperation.

“Kook?” Jimin asks warily. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Ah. yes. I’m okay.”

Jimin sends a mischievous smile to Jungkook. “You want to run after Y/N, don’t you?” he asks as the elevator finally arrives at their floor.

Jungkook looks at his feet and decides to step into the elevator. If she still doesn’t want to see me, there’s no point for me to force her. “Nah. I don’t want to.”

Lie.

How he wants to see you so much. So damn much it’s hurting him.

“Well-well, who’s there?” Sehun turns his chair to see you, still controlling your breath in front of the door. ”Why are you out of breath?”

“Stairs.” You roll your eyes as you wipe the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. You really need to work out sometimes, not just sitting and living a sedentary lifestyle.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “The elevator is broken?”

You shake your head weakly and sit on your chair. “Just need a little exercise.”

Sehun squints at your face and hums, realizing something is not right about you. “How are you? Okay?”

You nod and sigh. “Yeah.” You send him a weak smile. You look at your desk, it’s clean but you can still see the horrible image burned in your mind. It’s kinda hard for you to just delete it from your memory. Besides, it happened less than a week ago.

“Oh, I also finished your report. I was thinking that at least we should send an actual report, even though the investigation fell apart. What do you think?”

“What? I’m sorry. What are we talking about?” you ask, looking lost.

Sehun sends an assuring smile. “This report. We should send it to the agents. Don’t you think?”

You fiddle the corner of your shirt. “Yeah, I think we should.”

“You want to give it to them?” Sehun asks again. You bite your lips, your mind wanders. Seeing your sudden silence, Sehun rises from his seat and taps your shoulder lightly. “Actually, just stay here. I’ll take it to them.”

You watch his back disappearing from your sight. Again, you’re alone in this office. This office, your second home, but you barely feel comfortable sitting here. The scent of coffee you usually make every day is absent, since Sehun never drinks coffee in the office. You only detect the lemon scent from the air refresher in the corner. It’s supposed to be relaxing but instead, it makes your heart beat rapidly.

You feel sad.

Jungkook sighs again at his desk for God knows how many times. And everytime he sighs, it is just getting louder.

It begins to irritate the other agents around him. Especially since they haven’t been assigned to another case yet. To them, The Case of The Young Man in Distress, is their new case, and it somehow excites them.

Hoseok steals a glance at Taehyung and Jimin, sending signals right then and there. After they nod, they roll their chairs closer to Jungkook’s desk. “What’s up with you, Kook?” Hoseok starts.

Jungkook stares at the screen of his laptop, hands continually moving his mouse without any intention. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung snorts. “No, you’re not. Tell us what happened.”

“I’m fineeee.”

The older men share another look between them, they all look so concerned about Jungkook, but what can they do if Jungkook shuts his own mouth, let alone his feelings?

Jimin notices that their office door is open and yells deliberately loud. “Oh. Here’s our favorite forensic doctor!” It makes Jungkook flinch and Jimin sees Jungkook trying to steal a glance at the door and takes a deep sigh. “Our Sehun-ie. What can we do for you?”

“Just delivering some reports.” Sehun looks at the agents crowding Jungkook’s desk and points directly to Jungkook. “What’s wrong with him?” The agents shrug simultaneously.

“We are trying to find out. Wanna join?” Hoseok pulls another chair beside him, tapping the seat, gesturing to him to sit.

Sehun throws the report on the desk. “I want to. But I also need to find out what happened to my staff too.” Sehun turns his back and waves to them over his shoulder. “She looks troubled and unfocussed. Bad day, I think. See you, then.”

With the sudden drop of information, the three of them look at Jungkook’s reaction, who freezes in his seat. Something must have happened with the two of you.

Jimin asks cautiously. “Did something happen with Y/N?”

“Maybe on the day when you went missing after drinking with Yoongi?” Taehyung adds, which makes the older guys look at him questioningly. “Yoongi-hyung told me.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, instead he sighs and runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. The other agents know that they hit a sore spot. He bites his lips, hesitant to talk to them, but on the other hand, he doesn’t know what to do. Everything he chose seems like a wrong choice. Everything he does seems to push you away even further. “I-I just don’t know what I should do, Hyung.”

Hoseok pats Jungkook’s shoulder softly. “Tell us in detail. We’ll help you.”

And just like that, everything opened in public, well, to his best friends. How his heart feels weird whenever he sees you. How his heart ached when he saw you hurt. How you looked so weak and pained and disappointed when he took you home. How he went to your apartment drunk. How he wanted to apologize to you. How he kissed you drunk and how you pushed him back. How his heart crashed when he saw you cry, sobbing on the floor.

They listen to his story carefully, patting his shoulder several times when he looks like he’s going to burst into tears.

“And now, she doesn’t want to see me. I’ve been trying for three days.”

The silence falls in the room, it is interrupted when Jimin hits Jungkook’s head lightly. “Aigoo, you are an adult now. Stupid, but still, I’m just so proud of how you grew this fast.” Jimin smiles and hugs Jungkook lightly.

Jungkook whines. “Hyung, that’s not the point. What should I do?”

Taehyung suddenly raises his hand in the air. “Wait a minute, if Y/N really likes Jungkook, why did she push him away like that?”

“Well, y’know,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “you didn’t exactly get her permission before you kissed her.”  

Hoseok held his hand up, silencing Jimin and Taehyung. “She might have thought that you just did it out of guilt.” Hoseok says softly. “Or maybe a pity, just a mere responsibility.”

“What?” Jungkook looks at him weirdly.

Hoseok explains further, “You know like a novel, when you hit someone with a car, and he/she lost their ability to walk, so you just decide to be with them? Or remember when you spilled coffee on my report and you decided to write it yourself and also bought me a pair of sneakers?”

“But I didn’t do those things to her out of guilt.” He gulps. “I-I don’t hate her. I don’t even know why I did it.”

Jimin smiles again widely, his eyes turn into crescents. “Are you sure you don’t know? I know that deep down, you know it.”

“Just tell her sincerely then about what you don’t know.” Taehyung smiles and puts his hand on Jungkook’s head, ruffling his hair softly.

Jungkook sighs again. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

“If she really likes you, she’ll come around, Kook.” Hoseok smiles and hugs the younger man. “Now, go find her!”

Jungkook looks at him with widened eyes. “Like, now?”

“Of course, silly. The faster the better.” Jimin laughs. “Go!”

“I don’t know what to say to her, I don’t prepare anything.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook in disbelief. “What do you want? A teleprompter? Just tell her your feelings, dumbass!”

Weirdly enough, Jungkook rises from his seat and takes off running, leaving his cubicle empty. “I thought you bet that Jungkook won’t end up with her, hyung?” Jimin teases.

Hoseok scratches the back of his neck and smiles. “The moment he told us what happened to him just showed who’s gonna win the bet. And besides, I just want him to be happy.”

Taehyung moves his chair back to his desk. “How about we change our bet to another topic then? We have plenty of subjects to bet about.”

You rack your brain, trying to find a place where you won’t meet Jungkook. And after mentally listing the places, you decided to hide in the infirmary. It’s unused and no one is gonna be there. So you can hide for a moment. Just like when you’re in high school, you fake a stomach ache, just so you can get some sleep or when you forgot to bring your math textbook.

Well, five minutes of sleep are considered a privilege then, as you hear the door opened.

You look from inside a curtain, trying to identify the man who just came in with a cart full of cleaning supplies. Cleaning service? The man quietly sweeps the floor skillfully, and you suddenly feel that you shouldn’t be there, as you’re just gonna disturb his job. Just as you open the curtain harshly, you tilt your head in confusion. “Jin?”

Jin looks at you in surprise, almost dropping the broom on his hand. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Resting,” you say with an awkward smile. “What are you doing here? What’s with the broom and the gloves?”

Jin sighs and turns away from you, continuing to sweep the floor. “Cleaning.”

“Do you do this every day?” It’s just so weird for such an elite agent doing some cleaning in this place. Especially, since the Company also hires a cleaning service.

“No. Just every few days. Since it’s not used, it doesn’t get dirty that fast. I just clean this room when the cleaning service has their day off.” Jin answers lightly as he picks a towel to wipe the surface of the table.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my hobby,” Jin pauses and looks at the white wall. “or maybe I just hope that she’ll come back. You know right that she hates dust?” He laughs awkwardly. He clears his throat and looks at you warily. “Are-are you still in touch with her?”

“No.” You look at him quietly, somehow you can see his pain from his wide shoulder. It’s been a few years, but Jin is still hung up on her, still missing her. “Are you okay?” you ask cautiously.

Jin scoffs and walks away again, wiping the cabinet this time, “why? Do I look pathetic?”

You shake your head softly. “No. But you look broken-hearted.”

He turns his head to face you, looking into your eyes. “Well, so do you.”

Your jaw clenches, like how he hit your spot correctly. Tears threaten to fall down and you try to stop it by biting your lips. At the moment, you feel weaker and sad. You sigh and look at your feet. “What’s new?” you laugh dryly.

Jin puts away his supplies and removes his gloves as he walks to you, and plops on the bed beside you. “What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking that mayb-”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re not thinking. It’s an assumption.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Wh-what?”

He sighs, “Whatever your problem was, and whoever he was, you’re overthinking this.”

“You don’t even know what the problem is.”

“I don’t. But I believe that you need to talk to him regardless of what the problem is, not talk to your mind, making assumptions. You know, the key to a healthy relationship is communication, and it applies to every relationship. Business, family, or even Love.” Jin sends you a smile. “Just talk to him. The misunderstanding won’t solve itself.”

You sigh again. “What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not a misunderstanding but a mistake?”

“Then talk a little more. Apologize if you need to. Forgive if you still want to be with him.” Jin stops, and swallows slowly. His voice cracks. “Fight for it, if it is worth fighting for, until you can’t fight anymore. Until you don’t have any regrets.”

You look at him carefully. You’ve never talked to him ever since you worked in the Company, let alone seeing his eyes like this. But now, you can see how he’s deep in pain. And you understand what he talked about. His experience. The thoughts of what he should have done before. The choices he regrets now.

You hop from the bed and walk to the door. “Thank you. I’ll try.” As you walk closer to the door, you turn to face him again. “She must have a reason, Jin. I don’t know what it was, but she would never hurt you.”

“I know.” Jin answers quickly. He darts his eyes away from you so that he can hide his watering eyes, and smiles. “So does Jungkook.”

I know.

You walk out from the elevator, squeezing your body from the others inside. It’s lunch time already, and you’re lucky enough that you can slip into the crowded elevator.

Seventh floor is quiet, but not as deserted as the last time you went there. You look around you, hoping to see a particular person. The one you need to see. The one you miss.

You sigh, heart thumping inside your chest. You’re not gonna lie that you’re nervous, and that’s not because of the thought of seeing Jungkook again. It’s the thought, an assumption, of what he’s gonna say. You’re afraid of hearing his reason, afraid that it’ll break your heart even more.

A little part of you tells you that it’s better this way, and just move on. But you realize, playing hide and seek with him won’t solve any problem. It will just hurt you, or both of you. If you need to move on from him, at least there’s no loose ends. And Jungkook deserves a chance to explain everything to you, in person.

“Y/N?”

You turn your head to the man calling you and sigh disappointedly. “Oh, hey Yoongi.”

Yoongi laughs a little. “Why do you always bump into me when you’re looking for Jungkook?” Yoongi looks more professional since the last time you met him, maybe because he’s sober right now, or because he wears a neat suit instead of his black hoodie.

You smile, feeling embarrassed that you’ve been found out. “How do you know that I’m looking for him?”

He shrugs, “nah, I just feel that there’s something about you two that needs to be finished.”

“Oh. I see.” You divert your gaze from him, “So, where can I find him?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. I just came here.” He stretches his pale arms and continues, “y’know, overslept. Actually, maybe Jungkook is in the training room. He usually trains himself when he feels stressed about something.”

Your jaw clenches with the sudden information, forcing yourself to smile once more. “Thank you, I’ll get going then.”

You nod and walk again to the elevator, just the moment it arrives. When you’re inside the elevator, Yoongi yells to you, “He feels bad, Y/N---” You can only hear a snatch from him as the door closes, stopping you from hearing the full sentence.

I know.

You’ve been pacing the corridor for almost fifteen minutes, staring at the men’s locker room door. You perk your head to the door, every time it opens. And every time you do it, you’re left with another disappointment. Not to mention, all of the other male agents stare at a suspicious woman who’s lurking in front of a locker room.

Except one agent.

“Doctor Y/N?”

You’re leaning on the wall while massaging your calves. You squint in order to see the man approaching you better. “Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon pauses in front of you, sending a warm smile. He’s drying his hair with the towel and his other hand holds a gym bag. “Yes, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly to you. Please just call me Namjoon.” He drops his bag to the ground clumsily, making some of his things flow out from the unzippered bag, reaching out his hand to shake yours. “I’m afraid that Jungkook is not here.”

Your eyes widen. “Ho-how do you know that I’m looking for him?”

He laughs and drops to one knee to gather his fallen things. “Just a little guess. A little bird told me that you’ve been working with him, so, yeah, I just thought that it might be a work thing.”

“Have you seen him anywhere then?” you sigh.

“I’m afraid not, Doc. I’ve been in the training room since dawn, haven’t seen him anywhere near here.” Namjoon smiles apologetically as he hangs his bag over his shoulder. “Have you checked the pool? He’s been wanting to practice diving since our last mission in Hawaii.”

You shake your head softly. “I haven’t, I’m gonna check there then. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Doc. You see, Jungkook is sometimes a little hard to talk to, looks distant, shy, and confused, maybe because he joined us at such an early age, but he is a nice guy.” Namjoon laughs again as he walks away from you, leaving you standing alone in the corridor.

I know.

Jungkook walks quickly to your office as soon as the elevator opens on your floor. He still doesn’t know what to say, but he just can’t let you escape him, avoid him again. He will use everything he’s got to at least explain a thing or two to you, and if the universe accedes, maybe he can tell you a little part of his feelings. Or maybe more.

Just one step at a time, Jungkook. You can do this.

It’s weird how he feels more nervous right now than when he goes to a mission. Usually he can just barge through any door without feeling any fear, but right now? He can feel how his heart almost bursts inside his chest. Is that because he doesn’t have his gun with him? Or is it because you are on the other side of the door?

He sighs. He doesn’t know anymore.

Maybe it is because he doesn’t know anything that is going to happen when he opens the door. Maybe it is because his brain can’t work for another plan B if his original plan fails. Maybe it is because it is a do or die for him, sounds a little extreme, but actually this is maybe the last chance for him to let his feelings take control of him.

Mustering all of his courage, he knocks the door and opens it slowly. “Excuse me?”

A chair suddenly rolls from the desk. “Hey JK. What’re you doin’ here?” Sehun asks and looks at him quizzically. “Is there something wrong with the report?”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly. “That’s not why I’m here.” He swallows dryly. “I’m looking for Y/N..”

“Y/N?” Sehun raises one of his eyebrows. “Funny you asked that. The fact is I haven’t seen her anywhere since I went to your office.”

“Really? Okay then, I’ll just search for her somewhere else.” Jungkook nods politely and walks to the door.

“Why don’t you just call her?” Sehun asks loudly.

Jungkook looks at him, and gives him a weak smile. Sehun doesn’t need to know that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook’s calls, right? “Thank you, I’ll try.”

After he closes the door, Jungkook walks to the stairwell next to him. With a sigh he sits on one of the stairs. He pulls his phone from his pocket, looking at it like it’s a foreign thing to him. His finger scrolls to the contacts and looks for your name.

There’s no specific thing to describe your name in his contact. And by specific, it means you aren’t saved in his contacts. The only thing that describes you is your phone number, which he memorizes already because of how much time he spent looking at it and how many times he tried to call you in the past few days.

He looks again in his contacts. It’s less than a dozen. The only contacts in his phone are his parents, his brother, and his best friends. That’s it.

He remembers when he received your message for the first time, he almost accidentally deleted it because he received it at the same time he received another spam message. Only God knows what would happen if he deleted it for real. Would you still get hurt? Would you still want to tease him? Would it still be the same?

Or would he still have this growing feeling inside him?

He sighs and then inputs your phone number, but before he dials it, he chooses another option.

Add to new contact.

Name: Y/N

Save?

Saved

Jungkook looks at his newly added contact and finally dials your number, hoping that you would accept it this time. Hoping that somehow his sincere feelings felt through the rings on your phone. Hoping that he can say the right things this time.

And after the seventh rings, the call went through.

Jungkook can finally hear your voice. “Hello, Y/N?” There’s a silence on the other end of the phone for a little while. It begins to make him more nervous. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook?” but it’s not your voice. It’s a familiar voice for him that he hears a lot.

Jungkook looks at the screen, makes sure he got the correct phone number. He furrows his eyebrow, confused at why you didn’t answer your own phone. “Jin-Hyung?”

“Right.” Jin laughs. “Y/N left her phone in the infirmary. She just went out to look for you.”

“Oh.” Jungkook sighs in relief. “Wh-what? She’s looking for me?”

“Yes, kid. God, I don’t know what your problem is to make both of you playing hide and seek in the middle of the day, but yes, she’s looking for you right now. But I don’t really know where she went.”

A little smile plastered on Jungkook’s face, somehow he feels a little happy that you finally decided to give him a chance to explain himself. And with only that fact, he won’t lose this chance. “Thanks Hyung! Talk to you later!”

“Yah-”

Jungkook hangs his phone up, and stands up immediately. But if he just walks around and looks for you in this big building, it is just a waste of time. There’s a fat chance that he won’t meet you at all, and in this crucial time for him, he can’t rely on fate alone.

So, he taps his phone again, scrolling to find a chatting platform that he rarely uses, and looks for a group chat with his best friends, typing quickly and hits the send button. This time he’s gonna rely on his friends.

Jungkook 00.23 PM: Have you seen Y/N?

You open the heavy door to the pool area with an afraid look on your face. What if Jungkook suddenly appears before you? What would you do? What would you say? What if he doesn’t want to see you?

But luckily (or unlucky for you), there’s no one in the pool. Everyone must be taking their lunch time, leaving this place completely empty.

You sigh and walk around, deciding to look at this place a little more. Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook will suddenly pop out of nowhere, hugging you from behind like some of the rom-com movies that you usually watched in your teen years.

A sudden loud bang of a door opening filled the place, making you turn your head abruptly, hoping that the universe finally sends some signals to you. But instead, you just see a man pushing a cleaning supplies cart. You are disappointed.

Why do you even feel disappointed? There’s only a little chance for Jungkook to just walk through the door. You laugh to yourself and shake your head. Maybe I should just call him.

You pat your pants to locate your phone, and a little panic goes through you as you can’t find your phone. Where is it? Did I drop it? You try to remember when the last time you used your phone. You usually don’t behave like this; for you, your phone is one of your most important things. You never walk without a phone as you have everything you need in that mini gadget. Maybe this Jungkook thing is really bothering me.

You turn and walk to the door hurriedly, you need to find your phone back and also Jungkook. You can’t just wait mindlessly in here. Just when your hand reaches the door knob, you sense the cleaning man walking to you.

“Are you Doctor Y/N?”

You look at the man, sending him a polite nod. “Ah yes. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb your job here, I’m going now.” The man looks like he is in his early 30s. You can’t really see his face, since it’s hidden with his blue baseball cap. He wears a blue jumpsuit, a usual uniform for the cleaning service. But why does it look like it’s too big for him?

The man smiles back. “Oh my. That’s fine. Actually I have a package for you.” The man rummages through his cart, searching for something. “From a man, named Jungkook, I think? He’s been searching for you.”

“Jungkook?” ears perk in curiosity.

He smiles again, almost a grin. “Yes.” the man laughs at himself as he pulls a black metal thing from the cart and points it to you. “He’s been searching for you.”

You look at him with widened eyes. A gun. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, sweetie?” the man laughs maniacally, the sounds send shivers to your spine, making you step back unconsciously, your back hitting the door. You move your hand behind your back, trying to locate the door knob. “Uh-uh. Do not move. I don’t want to shoot your pretty face.”

Your heart races in fear., “Wh-what do you want from me?”

“The autopsy report, where is it?”

Your jaw drops as your mind wanders to the incident last Sunday, the one that probably will leave some scars on your hands. “Were you the one who trashed my office?”

“That’s right.” The man steps a little closer and pushes the gun closer to your face. “The report. Where do you keep it?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t have it.” Tears start threatening to fall from your eyes when the man seems unsatisfied with your answer and pulls your hair harshly. “I-I gave it up.”

He pulls your hair again until you meet his eyes. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Or do you want me to start shooting everyone who comes into this room?” He laughs again. “You’re waiting for someone right? What if he suddenly pops in right now, and my hand just slips?”

You widen your eyes and you can see his eyes, and they don’t show that he’s lying. You can see how crazy he is. “I-I think it’s on the seventh floor..”

Just after he hears your answer, he releases your hair. With a sudden lack of grip, your feet give up, making you slump on the ground. “Good choice. Now stand up. We’re going to the seventh floor.”

“Bu-but I just told you. You should let me go.”

He scoffs. “And how would I know if you’re just lying to me? Stand up!” He grips your elbow harshly, forcing you to stand in front of him. You can feel his cold gun on your back, pushing to walk forward. “Don’t do anything funny, or I might shoot others. I only want this to be just the two of us.”

Your lips tremble and your throat goes dry. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath, trying to find your courage and strength to walk. You open the door with a heavy heart, wishing silently that you won’t meet anyone in the corridor and on your way up to the seventh floor.

You walk slowly to the elevator, with the man following behind you with his cart. Whispering right there to remind you that he has a gun. Your stomach twists. You want to run away. Your hands turn into fists, sending a light pain from the still-recovering wounds. Luckily, the pain happens to keep your mind intact, make you stay sane. But still, you can’t think of anything that you can do to save yourself.

Sure, you worked for months in an agent secret service. But that doesn’t mean you can do martial arts or guns. You didn’t receive any of that training. So even in this high-security building, you’re just an ordinary woman. An unlucky one.

Wait. High-security building?

You look left and right cautiously to find CCTV cameras above you, maybe someone will see this?

The man behind you laughs again. “You think I’d sneak here with no preparation? No one in the security room is going to watch this. I’ve taken care of them.”

You choke, your heart quickens. “You.. you. Wha-what? What did you do to them?”

“There’s no need for you to know, sweetie.” He laughs again. ”It’s just gonna make you feel bad.”

You bite your lips, trying your hardest to hold your tears. This man is sick. And just then, the elevator’s door opens.

You swallow dryly and walk inside the elevator. Sighing in relief again because there’s no one inside. You reach your hand shakily, trying to push the seven button on the elevator, but just as the door closes, a hand sneaks in and it opens again.

Your eyes widen with the sight of the man, panting before you. “Jungkook?” Why are you here?

Jungkook still holds open the door with his one hand as he controls his breaths. “We.. We need to talk.”

You steal a glance at the man behind you, who acts like wiping the interior of the elevator. Your hands turn clammy. Maybe Jungkook can help you. Maybe Jungkook can save you. If this is the chance that the universe sends to you, you should take it, right? It is a perfect opportunity for you to lose the man behind you.

But, what if he shoots someone? Or worse, what if he shoots Jungkook?

You take a deep breath, your eyes looking at your feet, afraid of looking at Jungkook’s face. “The-there’s nothing for us to talk about,” you say coldly, pushing his hand away from the door and pushes the close button.

But this time, Jungkook is persistent. He doesn’t want to let you slip away from him. Again. “No.” He reaches out his hand again to block the door from closing. “We have to talk. You need to hear my explanation, at least.”

“I don’t want to!!” You push him away again, this time on his body, until he steps backward from the elevator. You don’t even realize how your hands tremble against his hard chest, how tears fall on your face like a waterfall. “Please... Just leave me alone…”

You step back inside the elevator, pushing the close door button again. But this time, Jungkook lets you.

If this is the last time I can see him….

You lift your head up to take a glance of his face from the closing door. You can’t see him clearly as your eyes filled with tears, and just like that. You sob on the ground of the elevator after the door closes, clenching your chest to tone down the tightening pain you feel.

“Well-well. Such a good girl.” The man behind you claps his hand. “Don’t worry, he’ll forgive you after he knows what happened with you and what you did for him.” He reaches to touch your cheek, which makes you flinch.

“You’re just a sick bastard,” you hiss, glaring to him.

He chuckles at your response and hits your face with his gun. He grabs your chin in his hand tightly, forcing you to see his eyes. “You’re really testing my patience, aren’t you?”

You’re shaking in his hands, a throbbing pain on your forehead also makes it worse. He releases your chin harshly and forces you to stand up as the car approaches the seventh floor. He pushes his gun again harshly on your side, with his other hand holding you close to him. You can feel his nasty breath on your neck.

I’m so going to die.

As the door opens and you walk through, that thought keeps lingering on your mind and it’s growing bigger with each step you take, and you can’t seem to shake it off. You can’t do anything right now, the only thing you can do is cry in silence, hope that at least it can ease your mind for a bit. But it doesn’t.

Why?

Because you don’t fucking know where the report is, exactly.

Jungkook remains speechless, his hands trying to reach for your hands but they escape him, leaving him grabbing the empty air. He only sees you walk back inside the elevator and he’s sure that he sees your tears when your eyes meet him.

He doesn’t understand you at all. Why then did Jin tell him that you want to see him? And why now you don’t want to? His hands turn into fists. He bites his lips harshly in desperation. Where are you going anyway?

No, he can’t just stay here. He needs to chase you. He needs to talk to you. He can’t let you again. He reaches his hand to push the elevator button but he stops midway.

Wait, why is there a cleaning service today?

He furrows his eyebrow, deep in thoughts, trying to remember any details of the cleaning service he saw earlier. He only looks at the cleaning service for a bit, he knows that it is a man, but Jungkook can’t really see his face since he faced the wall. He remembers the man turned his face when the door was closing, and Jungkook can see a bit of his face under the baseball cap. And suddenly his face turns white. He curses quietly and runs to the stairwell, not bothering to take the elevator anymore.

Jungkook grabs his phone from his pocket and scrolls to find Jin’s contact as he runs multiple steps at once. This might be dangerous and he needs his other agents, if what he’s thinking is true. If what he’s been afraid of come into reality.

“Hey, Jungkook-ah. Wha-”

“I saw Baekhyun, hyung. He was in the elevator with Y/N. I think they went to the seventh floor.” He says it quickly, interrupting Jin. Jungkook silently hopes that Jin can hear it perfectly as it is muffled with his pants and breaths.

Jin’s breath hitches on the other side of the phone. “What? Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure, I just saw him at a glance. I’m heading up right now. Tell the others!”

“Alright! Be careful!” Jin says and ends the phone call.

Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket and runs again. He runs, and runs, and runs, ignoring the fact that his lungs start burning in his chest.

Please be okay.

Like a spell, he repeats it over and over again. Like a prayer, he repeats it sincerely in his heart over and over again. Like a song, it is played in his mind over and over again.

I’m not going to let him hurt her again.

Like a vow, he says with all of his life.

He’s going to protect the woman he loves.

The silence in the seventh floor sends an eerie feeling to you, making your heart racing faster. Only God knows where the hell is the others when you need them. You feel the cold gun on your side, pushing harshly against your body. It is one of the things that makes you aware of what you’re doing right now, besides a throbbing pain on your head.

Baekhyun pushes you forward again. “So, where is it?”

You freeze on the spot, your hands getting clammy. You swallow dryly. “I-I’m not sure…”

“You what?” His eyes widen in anger and he shoves your body into a wall, sending a blunt pain to your back. “You dare to lie to me?” His hands somehow move to your neck, strangling it tightly.

You’re struggling to break free from his grip, kicking right and there, using all of your strength to push his hands away. Your chest is burning due to the lack of oxygen. Tears fall from your eyes. You feel weaker the more strongly you fight back and your eyes get blurry. Your consciousness fades along with the slowing of your heart beat.

And suddenly, Baekhyun releases you as he stumbles. You drop to the ground as you struggle to breath as much as you can. You open your eyes slowly, trying to see what’s he doing and there you see he is pushed to the ground by a familiar man.

Jungkook.

Jungkook hits Baekhyun as hard as he can. Baekhyun is perplexed for a second but after he processes what’s happening he starts to fight back. Baekhyun kicks Jungkook in the stomach. The situation turns around as Jungkook is pushed under him. The sound of the fight blares in your ears, trying to wake you up. You wince in pain as you gather all of your strength to stand up. You need to find help.

“Run!” Jungkook yells as he holds Baekhyun’s body tightly.

Baekhyun snarls, using his elbow to hit Jungkook’s nose, pushing him away. Your hands shake as Baekhyun suddenly changes his view to you and charges you, not giving you a chance to run away. Baekhyun pulls his gun from his pocket and points it to you. Your feet freeze as your eyes meet Baekhyun’s. “Bitch.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight before him and curses himself. He can’t believe that Baekhyun has a gun with him and through his laxity, Jungkook didn’t strip it. Jungkook groans and stands quickly to run to you. Please be okay.

Just as Baekhyun pulls the trigger, Jungkook jumps in front of you. The bullets pierce his right chest and his stomach. His body falls to the ground because of the impact. The blood starts seeping from his body.

Your jaw drops. You’re familiar with the smell of blood. You’re familiar also with the smell of the gunpowder. And when both of them are somehow incorporated in the air, it gives you a brand new smell that’s sickening.

The tears still fall from your eyes as you flop beside Jungkook, hesitantly touching him. Just less than an hour ago, you were dreaming about meeting him in a romantic way, but now this is only tragic.  sharp pain clutches your chest, making it hard for you to breathe again. Your thoughts are only filled with Jungkook but you can’t do anything.

But Jungkook is strong, maybe one of the strongest agents in the Company. So Jungkook sits up and moves you behind him, covering you perfectly.

“Kook…” you whisper in between sobs.

Jungkook keeps you behind him with his arms slightly trembling, gently soothing your skin. “I’m okay. Just stay behind me.” Even the slightest movement of his arms makes his chest hurt even more, but Jungkook hides it in his smile. The only thing in his head is how to make you get out of here safely, and he doesn’t care about the pain. Not when you are his priority.

Jungkook slowly lets go of his hands and stands up. You see how the blood spots are getting bigger and bigger, how it affects his posture as he loses his balance lightly. And after a few deep breaths, he puts on a stance, looking at Baekhyun with furious eyes.

Baekhyun snorts. “You think you can fight me bare-handed?” He still points his gun toward the both of you.

Without answering, Jungkook leaps forward to attack Baekhyun. It leaves Baekhyun caught off guard as he begins to fire the gun carelessly. Still, it grazes Jungkook’s body as he moves closer to him.

Not only that Jungkook is one of the strongest agents in the company, he has a killer kick. It’s the one that made the Company recruit him in the first place. He rarely uses it in his fights because he rarely has a chance to have hand-to-hand combat, and even if he had a chance, he doesn’t need to use it. And if Jungkook decides to use his best skills in this fight, there’s no way for Baekhyun to win. Jungkook begins to kick him again in his stomach and tries to target his hand.

And Baekhyun knows it too. So Jungkook begins to kick him again in his stomach and tries to target his hand. While Baekhyun stumbles, he fires his last bullet.

To your direction.

It’s too late for Jungkook to realize it, to jump again in front of you. As the bullet hits your shoulder, the new pain makes you fall back from the impact. Jungkook curses and turns his body to kick Baekhyun’s hand, sending the gun flying far from them and holding his hand to throw his body, locking him in between his legs, in a way that Baekhyun can’t move.

The doors and elevator open almost at the same time, and the agents barge in to arrest Baekhyun. Finally.

“Y/N!” Hoseok runs to you and shakes your shoulders. “Are you okay?” He helps you slowly sit up, carefully not to touch your wounds.

It’s over now… You sigh in relief, but your eyes turn panic when you see Jungkook’s shirt almost turn to pinkish, a mix of his blood and his sweat. “Kook…” and just as his name falls on your lips, Jungkook stumbles and drops to the ground.

Jimin and Taehyung move quickly to Jungkook to check on him. They look panicky as they move Jungkook’s body to a gurney with the help of paramedics. ”I’m going with him to the hospital.” Jimin says to Hoseok.

Hoseok nods and turns his face to you, his eyes falling on your bloodied shoulder. “Let’s get you to the hospital too.” He holds your elbow softly, helping you stand.

And just like that, everything turns black.

You open your eyes slowly. The harsh lights blind you and you blink as you adjust to it. You are met by the white ceiling above and white curtains all around you. The familiar smell of disinfectant steals into your nose, waking you up even more. You try to move your arms, to help you sit up, but there’s a shooting pain to your right shoulder. “Argh.”

“Yah. Y/N, you can’t move that carelessly!” Jimin yells as he puts his hand behind your back to help you.

You shake your head softly. “I’m okay. Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s in his room. The surgery went well. Don’t worry.” Jimin says reassuringly and pushes your shoulder lightly to make you stay in the bed.

But you refuse, swinging your legs slowly over the edge of your bed. “I want to see him..” You use your left hand to hold the IV poll. But as your feet land on the floor, your body stumbles. Luckily, Jimin was holding you from falling. “I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Jimin looks at you with worry in his eyes. He holds your elbow tightly. “Y/N, you don’t look so well. Just rest for a bit.”

You shake your head again, tears threatening to fall again. “Please… let me see him just for a bit…”

He sighs. He knows how stubborn you are, and you won’t back down. “Fine. Hold on to me, okay? Tell me if you have any pain.”

Luckily, Jungkook’s room is just a few rooms from yours. Just when you are about to open his door, you hear voices yelling inside.

“Yah! You can’t move!”

“Jungkook-ah! Are you crazy?”

“She’s fine! Just stay in the bed!”

Your eyes widen in panic. You let go of Jimin’s arms and rush forward inside Jungkook’s room. The only thing in your mind is Jungkook, and Jungkook only. You want to make sure he’s okay. You want to see him again.

And your eyes meet his.

The other agents hold him tightly as he tries to walk to the door. He looks pale and pained, there’s bruises in his body. You see the bandages sneaking out from his gown. And it just makes your heart break and relieved at the same time. “Kook?”

His doe eyes look you from head to toe, blinking his teary eyes to see you clearer. “Y/N?”

His voice.

Your favorite one.

The only thing that gives you strength to step forward. The only thing that can make you run. The only thing that can make your heart leap.

And just like that you run to him, run to his embrace, rushing forward clumsily while dragging the IV poll.

Jungkook holds you tightly to his chest, not even caring if you jostle his wounds. He doesn’t even care if he feels the pain, in fact, he is glad he can feel it. So that he knows that this is real. That you are wrapped in his arms, still living and breathing before him.

Jungkook lets your scent and warmth envelop his body and he can feel the relief straight into his heart. He takes your face in his hands, looking at it carefully. He gulps a little when he spots a little wound on your forehead and bruises on your neck. “Are-are you okay?”

You sniff and let your tears fall from your eyes as you nod weakly. “Are you okay? Let’s get you back to your bed.”

“I’m okay,” he giggles but lets you hold him and take him back to the bed. And when you stumble again because of his weight, the other agents hop in to help both of you. Jin and Taehyung hold Jungkook and walk him to his bed while Jimin helps you.

Hoseok smiles at you as he drags a chair next to the bed, “We’re gonna let you talk for a bit, okay? Don’t talk too long, you both need to rest.” He pushes the other agents outside, giving you and Jungkook privacy.

It’s silent again.

But it’s comforting. And you kinda miss it.

It’s funny how just with the presence of Jungkook can stir your heart completely. Just by the presence of him, he can turn your mood around.

You bite your lips and fiddle with your gown. “Thank you for saving me. It must have hurt a lot.”

Jungkook smiles and reaches your face to wipe your tears away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come faster. You must have been frightened.”

And there it breaks you. Jungkook is the one who hurt the most, and yet he is the one who feels sorry. He is in pain, but he still thinks of you. What can you do to deserve to be with this nice man? No, you don’t deserve it all. And it just aches your heart even more. “What are you talking about….” you sob and turn away from him as you try your hard to stop the tears falling from your eyes.

Jungkook reaches your hand softly. “Please don’t turn away from me.. Please?” His other hand moves to pat your head lovingly. “Can we please have that talk now?”

You pout. “No. You need to rest. We can talk about it anytime after you get better.”

“I don’t want to. I have to tell you right now.” He takes a deep sigh. “I’ll go crazy if I keep this any longer.”

“But…”

“I’m sorry for what I did to you in your apartment. I was drunk and made stupid mistakes. I’m sorry.”

You nod quickly. “Yes, I know and I’ve forgiven you. Now, you should have some rest…”

“I didn’t know why I did it, but just so you know, I’ve always wanted to kiss you. I think I felt too rushed, but I didn’t do it just to tease you or make fun of your feelings. It’s jus-”

“Wait, what?” You look at him puzzled and raise one of your eyebrows. “You-you wanted to kiss me?”

He tilts his head at your response. “Yeah?”

“But, why?”

He takes a close look at your face, and swallows dryly. “Because I like you, Y/N.”

There is a pregnant silence as you blink your eyes, processing the sudden bomb of information. “Huh?” You scratch the back of your head confusedly. “You like me? Since when?”

He blushes as he smiles. “I don’t know. It just happened, I guess… Wait, you didn’t know?”

“Duh, this is an expression of a person who knew about it,” you say sarcastically as you point to your face.

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “I really thought I made myself really clear. Even the others knew about it!” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Anyway, I just felt so rushed because you’re gonna leave soon and I thought I’m gonna lose my chance. Also it might be because these feelings are little new for me, so I was a little confused. But I-”

“But I’m still with this Company for another 4 months…”

It’s his turn to process the information and then his face turns red as he lets go of your hand. “I thought… I’m just… hmmm. I’m gonna take my confession back then…”

“No! I won’t let you take it back.” You reach for his hand, holding it tightly. You look at him with a determination in your eyes and smile widely from ear to ear. “Thank you, I’m happy to hear it.”

Jungkook replies with a smile too as he sighs in relief. “But still, I have to say it again properly someday.”

You giggle as you squeeze his hand. “Sure, let’s take this slowly. We have a lot of time.”

You both hold each others’ hands with smiles on your faces. No word exchanged, as you both know how happy you are. How relieved you are to finally hold his warm hand again. How excited you are to guess what will happen to both of you. How ecstatic you are as you feel your heart races inside your chest.

The air freshener sprays in the corner of the room, breaking the silence between both of you. The scent of vanilla disperses in the air. Filling the room with nothing but sweet scent. Usually, you always stay away from the sweet type of smell and stick with anything musky, floral, or maybe just natural ones. But now, this specific type of smell becomes your favorite one. The sweetest scent to remind you about him. The sweetest scent that you can have everyday without feeling sick.

Jungkook coughs awkwardly, “I know, you said to take this slowly. But I just can’t help it…” He looks at you with pinkish cheeks as he squeezes your hand. “Can-can I kiss you?”

You reply with nothing but a smile and nod. You lean in a little so he can be closer to you just for a little bit. And just like that, he takes your face in his hands slowly and connects his lips with yours.

And you can feel it, how your hearts are connecting too.

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

Series Masterlist: The Company

Taglist: @kb-bangtanenthusiast @w0lfqu33n @gee-nee @jaienn @nctssidehoe @codeinebelle​ @kali-20 @mygalaxysupernova​ @jeoncookie-bts​ @kookunot​ @1-in-abillion​ @beingbeings​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @yiyi4657​ @jinsalpaca​ @giadalin​ @spring2787​ @drmrastraea​ @katbonv​ @fluffyjoons​ @baebyjoonie​

Taglist open!

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 14

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter:  14

Chapter Summary:  Settling into family life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: It’s so much tooth rotting fluff. Like... I went overboard with the fluff, I couldn’t help myself.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13}

"Briar." Henry whispered, popping his head into the room where the little girl was playing.

"What?"

"Mama's resting up for tonight, how about you and me go check out that park down the street?" Henry suggested, hushing the girl when she squealed excitedly. Overall, finding a place to move in together hadn't been too much of an effort. Henry found Faye wasn't too picky when it came to homes. She had been impressed by every one they had seen. They had decided on one that was on a nice quiet street, not too far from town, had a big fenced in yard for Kal, enough rooms for everyone plus a park just down the street. Briar had been begging Faye to take her since they had moved in last week, but they found it hard to find time for an adventure while also trying to settle in.

If Henry had to venture a guess, he'd say they were about 3/4 of the way there. The kitchen and the bedrooms had been sorted. Henry's office/gaming room was still mostly in boxes, as well as most of the living room furniture. So far, the only thing not boxed in the living room was the couch, which Faye was currently passed out on. They had intended to unpack more, but Henry could tell she wasn't feeling right. Faye told him it was just a headache, but Henry insisted she lay down anyway.

Now was their chance to sneak out and procrastinate on actually working on the house. Henry made sure her jacket was zipped up and her hat was secure before taking her little mitten clad hand in his, leading the giddy girl down the street to the park. Her eyes lit up when she saw all the different things to play with, from slides to swings to monkey bars, all just waiting for her to climb all over them. Her hand was free from Henry's the second her little sneakered feet touched the grass, darting off to go and play on as many different things as she could.

Henry followed after the little girl, lifting her into the toddler swing at her request and setting her in motion, unable to keep the smile from his face at her elated giggles. He had intended to keep her low, not wanting to scare the little girl, but was soon reminded of her love of baby adrenaline when she started demanding to go higher and higher. He finally reached the point where she was swinging near his face, squealing in laughter the entire time, her little mitten clad hands holding the chains as her feet kicked gleefully.

"Catch, catch!" Briar laughed, twisting around to plant a kiss to Henry's jaw when he caught the seat. "Again!"

Henry was more than happy to comply, releasing the seat and letting her swing again, stepping back and giving another small push. He had half a mind to record her time on the swings; this was the type of moment that the best memories are made of. She was so happy, soaring through the air without a care in the world. He hadn't known her for very long, but he already could tell she was growing up more. She was turning into her own little person, with her own thoughts and ideas. So stubborn, unafraid to take risks and she had him wrapped around her little finger. Just like her mother. He somehow felt bad for missing out on the first years of her life, even though he didn't know her then. She deserved to have a father figure to spoil her. She needed someone in her life to show her how a woman should be treated so she wouldn't settle with someone that wasn't right for her.

How her own father could want nothing to do with her was baffling to him. She was the sweetest little girl. She would constantly pop out of nowhere to squeeze his leg in a hug and scurry off again. Every time he picked her up, she would kiss his cheek and throw her little arms around his neck. She cuddled close for bedtime stories, always reacting like it was the first time whenever he would read one to her. How anyone could decide not to be a part of her life was beyond him, but at the same time he was glad. If her biological father hadn't been a complete douchebag, he wouldn't be where he was now, living with the woman he had fallen with so hard, so fast. He wouldn't have a house to fill with their own memories together. He wouldn't have someone special with him at the premiere tonight. He wouldn't have taken the little girl with him on a sneaky adventure to the park while the woman he loved was napping on the couch. He wouldn't have his own little family so for that, he was grateful.

"Down!" Briar decided when she swung back to him, her eyes locking on the slides and large play structure not too far away. Of course, she would want to climb on something while she was there. Henry stopped the swing's motion and unfastened the little girl, her feet barely touching the ground before she was sprinting off again toward the slides.

Henry chuckled to himself at the little girl's excitement, sitting down on a nearby bench to keep watch as she played. She was a little ball of energy, climbing the ladder to the slide and going down head first, giggling the entire time. She zipped across the play yard, climbing the large structure in the middle and going down the curly slide on one side. Henry settled back into his seat as he observed, silently patting himself on the back. She would be too worn out to throw up a fuss for the babysitter when they had to leave later. He just hoped Faye was feeling better by then. He would hate to drag her out for something this important when she felt unwell.

Her stunning dress had been delivered just two days ago, her face lighting up when she caught her first glimpse of it. Henry knew she would look beautiful in it. He also had the feeling she would look even better when he took it off later that evening. The couple had wasted no time in christening every surface they possibly could. Their bed, the bedroom wall, the shower, the vanity, the couch, the kitchen counter, the table. Everywhere they could possibly get to and not wake the baby was fair game.

Between moving, and the premiere, he also had his mother's birthday coming up. That was something he needed to remember to tell Faye about. It had somehow slipped his mind with everything else going on. He had told his mother they would all try to make it out to see her for her birthday, but he had somehow forgotten to bring it up to Faye. Hopefully she didn't have anything else planned. His mother was really looking forward to meeting her.

Henry slowly scanned around the play area of the park, taking note of everyone else around. It quickly became apparent that all the other adults were women. Most of which were currently staring at him, quite possibly recognizing who he was. He really should have worn a hat to hide behind. Would that look weirder though? A random guy sitting on a park bench, hiding his face behind a hat, watching children play? Why weren't there more fathers out with their children? Sure, his own father worked a lot when he was growing up, but he always had weekends off, and he made sure to make time for his family on those days. This was a Saturday afternoon, shouldn't there be at least one or two other men around? His overthinking was making him more and more uncomfortable the longer he dwelled on it.

"PAPA!" Henry jumped up without thinking, his current train of thought instantly cut off at the child's scream. His eyes locked on her in a second and he dashed across the playground in four quick strides to kneel down next to the little girl on the ground who was holding her knee and crying. He was suddenly grateful no other men were around. It would have been really awkward for him to go running up to someone else's kid like that.

"Hey, hey, it's ok." Henry soothed, picking her up and letting her cry into his neck. "What happened, princess?"

"I... I fell do-down." Briar sobbed, clinging to him as he rubbed her back.

"It's ok. You're ok." Henry assured, deciding then was the best time to take their leave as many sets of motherly eyes had already locked on him, now hyper aware of his presence. This seemed to be quickly going from a fun bonding experience to Henry being turned into eye candy as he tried to soothe a crying child.

Briar had calmed down considerably by the time he had gotten them home, though he decided to continue carrying her anyway. If he had to guess, she wasn't exactly in the mood for walking. He tried to be quiet when he came back inside, hoping not to wake Faye and alert her to their sneaky adventure; it didn't matter how quiet his entrance was however, as Faye was already waiting by the door when he came in.

"Is she ok?" Faye asked softly, looking at the girl still clinging to him as though her life depended on it.

"I fell down." Briar sniffed, slowly reaching to her mother for more coddling.

"I bet that was scary." Faye soothed, taking the child in her arms and kissing her head softly. "Did you fall off of something at the playground or did you just trip?"

"Just trip." Briar mumbled, cuddling close to her mother.

"How did you know where we went?" Henry asked suspiciously, raising a brow as he began taking his coat off.

"Oh please, it's not rocket science. She's been begging to go since we moved here, you'll do anything she asks and the playground is in the direction I saw you two coming from. Busted, mister." Faye explained as she helped the little girl out of her coat and mittens.

"It wasn't sweeties before dinner this time." Henry defended himself, stealing a kiss as he reached beside her to hang up his coat, taking Briar's and hanging it up as well.

"You should have woken me up, I would have loved to have gone too." Faye pouted, slowly letting the squirming child down.

"You weren't feeling well, and tonight is an important night." Henry reasoned, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer.

"So you really want the babysitter coming here with everything still in boxes?"

"If I hurry, I can probably make the living room look livable. At least mount the TV or something. Possibly just set the iPad up on the coffee table and pretend that's what we use as a TV."

"Yes, because I'm sure they will believe that a giant geek ass dork nerd like you would have such a tiiiiiny little screen to watch his nerd shows on."

"Well I did find myself a small woman. Maybe I just really like little things." Henry teased, kissing the top of her head.

"Who do you think you're calling small?"

"You." Henry shrugged, kissing the top of her head again.

"I will have you know, I am not small. Everything else is just big."

"That's what you always tell me that every time we - ouch!" Henry chuckled, rubbing his ribs where Faye had poked him.

"That did not hurt."

"Well it didn't feel nice either!"

"We need to get the living room unpacked, come on." Faye insisted, quickly poking his ribs again and dashing off to the living room, Briar poking Henry's hip and racing off after her mother.

"Woman! You are teaching the baby bad habits!" Henry chastised, pursuing after both of them.

"I am doing no such thing! She needs to learn your weaknesses." Faye taunted, keeping the couch between her and her boyfriend.

"I already do whatever she asks, why does she need a weakness?" Henry laughed, slowly circling around one side, both girls skittering around to the other.

"One day you may say no." Faye shrugged, squealing when Henry reached over the back of the couch, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.

"Now why would I ever say no to either of my girls?" Henry asked, cupping her jaw and kissing her softly.

"There might be an occasion." Faye reasoned, bumping her forehead against his, her other hand sneaking up to tickle his ribs again.

"Would you stop?" Henry grumbled, dragging her over the back of the couch and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"I will never stop."

"Papa, no!" Briar gasped, running around to the back of the couch and grabbing her mother's hand. "Mama, come on!" She urged, trying to pull her free.

"Oh what, now you're on her side? I thought you were on team me!" Henry gasped, letting Faye be pulled from his arms.

"Gonna get you!" Briar giggled, attempting to tickle at his leg.

"Ok, now this is not fair!" Henry grouched, letting Faye go to snatch Briar up instead. "Two on one, really?"

"Papa, down!" Briar squealed, wiggling when he started to tickle her sides.

"Down? Now why would I put you down?" Henry laughed, jumping and barely suppressing a swear when Faye snatched his ribs again.

"Briar, I'll make you a deal. I'll let you go if you help me get Mama." Henry stage whispered to the child, setting her down and chasing after her mother when she darted off down the hall.

"Mama!" Briar cheered, chasing after the two, Kal now following the rest of the family to the kitchen.

"I know what you're planning, and it's not a good idea." Faye warned, slowly backing up to the counter.

"Oh, and why is that?" Henry asked, pressing up close to her, pinning her between his body and the counter.

"I'll tell on you."

"And who are you gonna tell? Briar? She's on my side now, remember?"

"Uhh... how about your mother? Would she side with me?"

"Oh!" Henry lit up, his mind jumping to another subject while he still had her trapped by his body. "That reminds me. My mum's birthday is next week, she's wanting us to come."

"That's a bit of a distance, isn't it? You have to factor in a toddler sized bladder into all travel plans now, my love."

"That is true. We also have to worry about Briar having to stop for restroom breaks."

"Oh, Mr. Somebody over here thinks he has jokes." Faye scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"We can fly there, it won't be as bad." Henry reasoned, kissing the top of her head. "She's really wanting to meet you two."

"Wait, she knows about us?"

"Faye, do you really think my mother wouldn't know about the woman I've been dating for the last ten months? We've moved in together, I think the people close to us are starting to suspect something."

"But I mean... does she know about us?" Faye asked, her eyes flicking down to the little girl trying to climb Henry's leg.

"She's excited to have another little girl to spoil. For some reason, us Cavill's just don't have very many girls."

"And she's ok with that?" Faye asked, fiddling with the hem of her shirt nervously.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"I don't know. It's... a lot. It was a lot having you step in and step up like you did. It just doesn't seem like something a mother would want for her baby boy."

"I'm in my thirties." Henry snorted.

"Yes. You are over six feet tall, over two hundred pounds and over thirty years old. You are also her little baby boy."

"Briar, am I a baby?" Henry asked, reaching down to scoop her up.

"No, you Papa Bear!" Briar giggled, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"And there's also that. Since when does she call you Papa?"

"She just yelled it a the park." Henry shrugged. "Is it something we need to discuss?"

"Well I mean... if the shoe fits." Faye mumbled. "I just don't want her to freak you out."

"I've been acting the part for a while now, if it bothered me, I would have said something. We're a family now, Faye. You're stuck with me."

"Oh am I?"

"Yes you are. If you leave, I'm going with you. Right Kal?" Henry asked, looking down at the canine, his tail swooshing across the floor in excitement at being included in whatever was going on.

"So now I have three children to worry about?" Faye groaned, her head falling back in mock annoyance.

"It would seem that way, yes. One is very easy to care for, however. He can let himself outside and his food is on an automatic timer."

"I don't know if you mean you, or Kal."

"Alright, two of us then."

"Enough with the distractions now, Mister Sir. We have more work to do around here." Faye reminded, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and taking Briar from his arms.

"So, I'm going to unpack the living room and you two are...?" Henry fished, reluctantly releasing Faye from her prison.

"I'm gonna help Briar get her room the way she likes it."

"Her room was the first thing we did." Henry pointed out suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as Faye skittered around him. "Oh no, you get back here, Woman!" He called, taking off after them again, mother and daughter both laughing as Faye hurried to Briar's room. He caught up with the two of them just as Faye was setting her daughter down, quickly snatching his girlfriend up and playfully biting at her neck. "You are not getting away that easy!"

"It was worth a shot." Faye sighed, letting him drag her back to the living room where he promptly sat on the couch, settling her in his lap and resting his head on her shoulder. "This doesn't seem like unpacking." She teased, resting her head against his.

"Of course it is. We are visualizing how we want it to look." Henry chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "What are you thinking?"

"Hmm... TV over the fireplace?"

"A solid choice."

"Coffee table in front of the couch. Side table over there. Briar's little table and chair over there. Probably put Kal's bed next to it."

"He'll lay next to her whether we put the bed there or not." Henry pointed out.

"True. How good are you at putting together IKEA furniture?"

"It is definitely going to be a job for another day." Henry decided, eying the few new pieces they had gotten for the larger living room.

"The toys should probably be near Briar's table so she's not tracking them everywhere. Kal's toy basket can go by his bed. We'll find a place for the pictures once we have the big stuff figured out."

"Sounds perfect." Henry agreed, holding her a little tighter when she tried to stand up. "Just a few more minutes of visualization."

"If you keep putting it off, it'll never get done."

"I'm not putting it off. I'm prioritizing physical contact with my lady right now."

"You just don't want to mount the TV."

"It's a pain in the ass to mount that thing." Henry groaned, looking at the still heavily wrapped TV leaned against the wall.

"It's your TV."

"And I did the sensible thing and paid extra for someone else to fight with it the second time I moved."

"We should have done that with all the furniture."

"Feels less personal, though."

"That's true. Now come on, big guy. We've got stuff to move around." Faye sighed, sliding from his lap and offering her hand to him to help him off the couch, not that he needed it. She would take any excuse she could to touch him, however.

The pair got to work, Henry doing the literal heavy lifting despite Faye's protest that she could move things on her own. They managed to get the furniture - minus the TV - in place; Briar occasionally popping in with a new snack every time, offering each a bite before scampering off again. Faye was putting Briar's toys in her toy chest while Henry went through the boxes, looking for any others containing toys.

"Oh, I found the bath toys!" Henry announced, holding the box up proudly.

"Oh, great. Briar's going to be thrilled when she takes her next bath." Faye sighed in relief. To say the little girl had been less than thrilled to have a plain no-toys-or-bubbles bath was an understatement. As it turns out, no more tears shampoo does not apply when the cause of the tears is from lack of toys.

Henry was putting the toys in the cabinet, down low where Briar would be able to choose what she wanted for herself, when he first saw it. It was a blue and white box with one particular word that grabbed his attention without even trying.

"Faye?" He called, his heart in his throat as he picked up the box, raising a brow at her when she appeared in the doorway, unable to force himself to form words.

"I haven't taken it yet." Faye admitted, seeming to shrink in front of his eyes, the words on the box staring accusingly at her.

Tesco Health Pregnancy Tests

Taglist: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Have you been asked yet to rank Trust eps? Cos I'm asking! But your the criteria for ranking I leave to you to decide.

Ahahahaha I’ll have you know I put way too much thought into this. :-D

Ok so first of all, there is no such thing as a bad episode of Trust. The whole thing is really tightly written, every character and plot thread has a purpose, and even the episodes that I haven’t watched over and over again are important to the overall story. And a lot of the impact of the show comes from things that are cumulative over multiple episodes.

That being said, I do have favorites. Since the definitive ranking of Primo’s outfits has already been taken care of, here is my ranking from least to most favorite based on some nebulous criteria of artistic/narrative effectiveness and emotional impact, my judgement of which is obviously highly subjective and also correct.

Under the cut because this got ummm unbelievably, ridiculously long.

10. The House of Getty (episode 1)

Sorry Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy, the pilot is my least favorite episode. Still think it was the wrong choice to open with a flashy (and, I can tell, expensive) sequence showcasing the death of a character we literally never see again. And, look, I’m an impatient viewer. If I don’t get someone to root for/emotionally identify with/otherwise catch my interest early on in a narrative, I’ll tune out. And Old Paul is not only unlikeable--far from a mortal sin in dramatic storytelling--he’s boring. I don’t care about any of his rich people problems, and I’m not the kind of viewer who can be kept engaged just by hating someone and watching them be terrible.

Some of the secondary characters in the Getty household do have interesting plotlines, but we don’t get to learn very much about them in the first episode. And I do think things get interesting once Little Paul shows up (although I maintain that the whole episode is more interesting if we understand what the stakes are for Paul getting the money), but if I had started watching this show with no context I wouldn’t have made it past Old Paul’s pre-coital erotica listening routine.

If this had been anything other than the first episode I might not have ranked it last, but extra penalty points for leading with your least interesting characters.

9. Lone Star (episode 2)

This episode is, I think, saddled by the fact that it has to do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of exposition and setup. It mostly works because Chace is an entertaining narrator, and once we get to Italy with Gail I think things zip along at a pretty good pace. Opens with an attempted rape to show how Bad the Bad Guys are, which is...not my favorite trope.

Once again, I think a lot of the information in this episode would have worked better if episode 3 had been episode 1. (We’d already know who Berto was when Chace meets him; we’d already know about the box of guns in the apartment; we’d know when certain characters are lying.) This whole show runs on the suspense of the audience being the only party who knows what’s going on with all the characters at once; I think trading mystery for suspense here was the wrong move. I also can’t help thinking there was pressure to front-load the well-known American actors in the beginning of the show at the expense of the strongest narrative choices.

Imo the best thing about this episode is the sort of...multiple competing images of Paul that emerge. His mom sees him as an innocent victim who couldn’t possibly have planned any of this. Chace sees him as a spoiled rich kid trying to swindle his granddad. Neither one of them has the complete truth.

Next we get into some episodes that are certainly not bad, but their greatness is more on the level of some bangin’ individual scenes than a whole package.

8. John, Chapter 11 (episode 6)

Again, this isn’t a bad episode. The main reason I put it near the end of the list is that the first time through I got sort of impatient during the first half. We, the audience, by virtue of our extra-textual knowledge, know that Paul can’t be dead, and we spend about half the episode before we know what really happened to him, which felt a bit too long to me.

This episode does have some fantastic individual scenes including: Leo talking Primo down in the farmhouse, Leo and Paul’s conversation about Angelo’s death, Gail being an absolute badass, and the meeting between Salvatore and Old Paul. A lot of these scenes are essential on a thematic level, but I don’t think the episode as a whole is the most streamlined.

7. Consequences (episode 10)

I debated for a while where to put this episode because the overall feeling of 57 Chekov’s guns going off in the space of one episode is SO satisfying, and the resolutions of some of the individual plotlines are delicious. Ultimately I would have liked more space for Paul and Gail and less Old Paul being grumpy about his substitute child museum’s mediocrity (although the scene with the bad reviews is hilarious). Once again I feel like the show creators felt they had to pull the focus back to Old Paul to wrap things up and I just. don’t care.

That being said. The resolution of Primo’s storyline? SO SATISFYING. And tbh I don’t dislike the scenes that exist with Paul and Gail; even the happy scenes have this poignant tone to them. I think they were trying to deal with the fact that his irl story is just...incredibly fucking tragic, and you can see a bit of the strain showing.

6. Kodachrome (episode 7)

I know episode 7 is not one of your personal favorites, but it’s the one where I think jumping between multiple plotlines/sets of characters is used to the most satisfying dramatic effect. It has this sense of dramatic irony that feels like some Shakespearean family tragedy. The whole episode, we are hoping that Paul Jr. will finally do the thing we want him to do, which is stand up to his father. And he does it--but at the absolute worst, most selfish and destructive moment possible.

Paul Jr. may be the literal worst, but I do have compassion for him in the flashbacks, mostly because it seems painfully apparent that no matter what he does, he will never be able to please his father. But he doesn’t seem to realize this, and he keeps trying, even as it’s destroying him and his relationship with his family. Credit to Michael Esper for his performance for making me feel a smidgen of compassion for this bastard.

I think the other thing this episode shows is how both of Paul’s parents keep putting him, a child, into roles and circumstances that he shouldn’t really be in. He’s wandering around through what seem like very much adult environments with his dad and Talitha in Morocco. In the Trust version of events he’s there when Talitha ODs and is the one trying to revive her while his dad is having a breakdown in the corner. Gail seems like the more responsible parent but there’s something about her bringing Paul as her “date” on a night out, and the understanding that this is a thing that happens regularly...to me the disturbing part is not so much bringing a young kid to a party with adults but the unspoken expectation that Little Paul will fill the void of companionship that his father has left empty. (Gettys expecting Little Paul to step in to cover for the failings of his father is a repeated theme, and it even plays into the ear thing. His family has failed to pay the ransom, so this is now a problem he has to solve himself.) Combine this all with Leonardo going, um, excuse me but what the actual fuck is wrong with your family? and I think it makes a very effective episode. And the last couple minutes had me yelling NOOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT because you can see what’s going to happen and you’re just watching it unfolding like a car wreck. Also has one of my hands-down favorite scenes, of Paul and Primo in the car waiting for the ransom.

5. White Car in a Snowstorm (episode 9)

The ~ D R A M A !!! ~ This episode is an opera. I mean this whole show is dramatique but episode 9 really leans into the vivid imagery--that snowy highway in the mountains above the sea, the all-white ransom exchange, Paul clinging to the pole at the shuttered Getty gas station, some Very Serious Mobsters throwing the ransom money around like idiots in a moment where you’re encouraged to be happy along with them.

This is also one of my favorite episodes for Primo and for Primo and Paul’s weird sometimes-alliance. Primo walking away from Salvatore to go tell Paul “they always pay in the end”? Primo and Paul teaming up to argue with Salvatore about why Paul shouldn’t die? Primo being all threateny to the doctor treating Paul because somewhere deep down he is worried (that’s my take and you’ll never convince me otherwise)? Primo dressing up to fake-scab on a postal strike in order to find a misplaced severed ear? All gold.

Fun fact: the letter Gail writes to President Nixon did happen in real life, but as far as I can tell the phone call did not. The real details of who convinced Old Paul to finally pay (some) of the ransom are considerably less cinematic. They’re the same amount of sexist though!

Ok now we are getting to the top tier...

4. That’s All Folks! (episode 4)

This is definitely the episode that took me from “ok this is fun” to “oh holy shit I’m invested now.” It’s the episode where we get introduced to most of the Calabrian characters and their world. It’s also the episode where we start to realize that Primo is not just a fun antagonist but is really a parallel protagonist to Little Paul, with his own set of relationships and motivations that we start to see from his POV. (I’d argue that, with the exception of his very first scene, we’ve mostly seen Primo through other characters’ gaze up until episode 4, and this is the point where we start watching him as like, the character whose pursuit of a goal we’re following over the course of the scene.)

This episode ranks high for capturing so much of the weird mix of tones that makes Trust work. It can be very funny. (I never fail to fuckin lose it when Fifty is on the phone with Gail the first time and when he’s talking to the thoroughly unimpressed newspaper switchboard operator.) It has this weird unexpected intimacy between characters you wouldn’t think would connect with each other. (Primo and Paul, Paul and Angelo; in retrospect the arc of the relationship between Primo and Leo gets started in that scene in Salvatore’s kitchen.) And it has one of the show’s absolute best record-scratch tone shifts when Primo gets the ransom offer. I remember saying “oh FUCK” out loud the first time I watched the end of that episode, when Primo comes back to the house, visibly drunk and clearly furious. We’ve seen him be violent plenty before now in the show, but always in a controlled, calculated way. This is the first time we see his potential for out-of-control rage-fueled violence and he’s terrifying!

3. La Dolce Vita (episode 3)

I stand by my claim that this episode (with a few minor continuity adjustments) should have been the pilot. Can you imagine a title card that’s like “Rome 1973” and then away we go with Paul snorting coke and taking racy photos and jumping on cops and fucking his girlfriend in what is definitely not proper museum etiquette, and then the smash cut to Primo intimidating and robbing and murdering people? And that’s the opening of the whole show? And you’re like how are these characters connected and then they meet each other and it’s the fucking sunflower field scene??

Anyway aside from the fact that I think knowing the information in this episode would have made episodes 1 and 2 more interesting...it’s just a great fucking episode. It’s kinetic and propulsive and funny and tense and violent and features Primo’s sniper skills and his ass in those cornflower blue trousers. I rest my case.

2. Silenzio (episode 5)

I’ll be honest, I went back and forth on the top two a bunch. Silenzio is definitely my personal favorite episode, and I’d argue that it’s the best written, in terms of what it accomplishes narratively, which is to keep you emotionally invested in both Paul and Angelo trying to escape with their lives, and Primo and Leonardo hunting them down. That’s so fucking hard!! And yes some of it is great acting but it starts from the foundation of the writing. It’s just such a perfect little self-contained horror movie, and it has this profound sense of fatalism to it, because you know from the beginning (if only by virtue of only being halfway through the series) that Paul is not going to escape, and you sort of know that there is only one way this will end for Angelo. And yet they escape by the skin of their teeth so! many! times!

It’s also the episode where you see how much power the ‘Ndrangheta has over people’s lives in this community: Salvatore is like God, calling his servants to him with the church bells. Combine that with the visuals of two characters running for their lives mostly on foot through this unforgiving landscape, and you really get the sense of this environment as a harsh place where most people have a very constrained set of choices, and the claustrophobia of that. You get the sense in this episode that everyone is trapped in these expectations of violence and duty and honor. Angelo did what anyone with compassion would do, and saved Paul from what seemed like certain death, and he’s doomed for it. At the same time Primo is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in response to a subordinate who disobeyed him. In some ways the end of the episode feels inevitable, unsurprising, and yet they do SUCH a good job of winding up the tension until the literal last seconds of the episode, and then releasing it with a big dramatic bang. It’s so good!!

1. In the Name of the Father (episode 8)

Ok I’ll be honest the ONLY reason In the Name of the Father edged out Silenzio for the top spot is that it is really clear they pulled out all the stops in terms of making this episode feel extra heightened in a show where everything is already heightened. Like, the cinematography is different? They still use handheld a lot but I swear there are more still shots and more extreme, editorial camera angles like that shot of Francesco looking upward in church where the camera is looking down from above him. I can’t tell if they actually tweaked the color grading or if the bright white and blood red just stand out against the Calabrian color palette which is mostly earth tones, browns and greens and blues.

There are just. So many layers to this episode. The imagery! The literal sacrificial lamb at the beginning, Francesco being guided by Leonardo through an act of violence against an animal, something that I’m sure they don’t even see as violence but just part of farm life, part of survival and in this case part of a celebration, but something that fathers teach their sons how to do as part of becoming a man in this world. Paul as the metaphorical sacrificial lamb later, drawing parallels to Jesus (the lamb of God), Isaac (a father sacrificing his son), any number of martyred saints, pick your Catholic imagery. The blood of the lamb on the tree stump and Paul’s blood on the stone. The communion wafer (the body and blood of Christ) and Francesco at the end with Paul’s blood and a literal piece of his body held in his hands the same way.

And then there is like, the suspense of watching everyone marking time through the steps of this community ritual that’s supposed to be a joyful, communal celebration, while we know that there is a secret ticking away under the surface. The slow unfolding of the lie told to one person spreading to everyone in the village, and then the knowledge that Salvatore knows spreading to all the people who’ll be in trouble for that. The relationship arcs between the main Calabrian characters...not resolving, but sliding into place for the final act. Primo finally being done with Salvatore. Primo and Leo’s alliance being cemented and Leo physically stepping between Primo and Salvatore, to protect Primo. (No one ever protects Primo!! Still not over it!!!!) The confirmation celebration as a mirror of the Getty party in episode 1, the parallels drawn between the 3 Pauls and Salvatore-Primo-Francesco and how Primo reacts to being passed over as heir vs. how Paul Jr. reacts. Little Paul having two whole minutes of screen time and managing to break your heart with them. Regina! Just...Regina’s whole everything. The music going all-instrumental for an episode and having this haunting, dreamlike but still tense quality to it. And the fact that we never cut away from Calabria to another plotline gives the whole episode this hypnotic, all-encompassing quality. It’s just. SO GOOD!!!!

[finitepeace]

fics i read this week:

 I read some bucky x natasha fics: 

Head Is Not My Home by taralkariel

Summary: The Black Widow is a legend. Legends aren't made cheap.

Shaken by the events of Civil War, Natasha Romanoff goes back to familiar ground to hide. To hide and remember how she became the Black Widow. How Natalia Romanova would do anything to save her father-figure. How she was one of 28 ballerinas with the Bolshoi - no, one of 28 Black Widow agents with the Red Room. How the only thing that made her feel human was a man with a metal arm.

(A story to show what really happened in the comics Red Room and how it could fit into the MCU)

19k words in 12 chapters, not rated (maybe T&up?), bucky nat up to IW, i think.  it’s not very dark themed <3,

tell me baby, do you recognize me? by xocean

Summary: "You're a liar." Natasha is shaking. "You're a heartless, lonely, lying murderer."

He doesn't even blink. "We both are."

The Winter Soldier's game is up, and Steve's not letting him go this time. Enter the only person who doesn't want a part in this shitfest: Natasha Romanov.

Or, as James Buchanan Barnes remembers her: Natalia Romanova.

63k words in 10 chapters (from 11), angst.

 and an IronDad x SpiderSon fic: 

This B.S. Better Be Worth It by losingmymindtonight 💙

Summary: Originally, Tony's plan had been to just surprise Peter with the fact that he would be on campus for a semester.

He’d never actually expected Peter to sign up for his class.

7k words in 4 chapters, tony acting like a dad (and awesome professor)

 as usual, the rest are Stony fics:  

American Dream by NobodysBloodyPrincess

Summary: Tony is trying, but try as he might he just can’t find the silver lining of this particular disaster.

After all, what happiness could possibly be derived from the knowledge that the perfect little girl in his arms is now motherless? What relief could be drawn, when his boyfriend of ten years, the love of his life really, is probably, currently, right at this moment in the arms of ‘Peggy’ his new fiancé?

13k words, no powers au, tony-centric, stevetony has broken up and tony adopts a kid, steve is depicted a bit insensitive (idk what the word, like unable to read the room?) here. 

Where Our Restless Monsters Sleep by Mizzy 💙

Summary: Years after Tony Stark saved the universe, the Avengers realize there’s a major problem: his body has gone missing. And he isn’t the only one. Fallen heroes all over the galaxy have had their graves pillaged.

An old foe is stealing the bodies of fallen warriors, but for what nefarious reason? There’s only one solution. To find out why it’s happening, Steve’s gotta die.

He probably shouldn’t be so eager to do that.

233k words in 12 chapters, post endgame resurrections (?), gladiator trope, lots of action scenes, and THERE’S MORGAN x STEVE INTERACTIONS!!!!! 

The Culling of the Stars by dirigibleplumbing

Summary: Tony dies saving Steve's life on the courthouse steps. Now Steve is left with the fallout of their Civil War, expected to take charge and preserve Tony's legacy. He doesn't know how he can do it alone—not when he can't stop thinking about Tony, or keep track of the days, or even feel.

9k words, comic book’s civil war not MCU’s, angst but gnidne yppah 

Together, Always by Sapphic_Futurist 💙

Summary: He swallows hard, a prickle of tears in his eyes because this is his husband.

This is Tony Stark and Steve’s husband, and Steve gets to have this. He gets to have this for the rest of his goddamn life.

30k words in 3 chapters, embodiment of stony’s “together” T_T, read the tags if you want to be spoiled lol if not then enjoy! (and I don’t regret not reading the tags tbh) 

And I'd Buy A Big House Where We Both Could Live by shinkonokokoro

Summary: Missing: Tony Stark, billionaire businessman, heir to Stark Industries, reward: none

Only Steve didn't know that when he picked up the waterlogged unconscious man from the bank of a river.

59k words in 29 chapters, non-power au, kid clint and peter as steve’s brothers

i stole the keys to this guy by kellifer_fic

Summary: Where it was Nick Fury's idea, but he didn't mean it like that

6k words, fake dating into real dating 

Home Is Where the Time Machine Is by Wordsplat 💙

Summary:Steve and Tony's daughter accidentally falls back in time, and learns that impossible time travel phone calls can and will be made just to ground you, big brothers are awful snitches, and parents used to date other people. The past blows.

23k words in 5 chapters, domestic, stony being married 

don't know why it took me so long to see by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

Summary: “Oh, watch this,” Natasha says, propping her chin against her knuckles and turning a sweet gaze on him. “Tony, what’s it like dating a superhero?”

Tony bristles in irritation. “We’re not dating,” he snaps. “Captain America probably thinks he can get into anyone’s pants just ‘cause he’s got a mask, costume, and reputation, but not me, buddy. That shield? Gotta be overcompensating for something.” He adds, a bit petulantly, “Oh, and all that blue? Definitely more Steve’s color than his.”

- In which Tony is a genius in all matters except recognizing his boyfriend past a mask.

11k words, tony being peacefully oblivious while the whole world isn’t. 

I Started a Joke by Naferty

Summary "Tony?"

"Who the hell is Tony?"

102k words in 11 chapters, tony is the winter soldier 

Take Two  by Wordsplat 💙

Summary: Steve loses his memory but he gets the feeling he's lost a lot more. Who exactly is Tony Stark to him and why won't he come out of the basement?

24k words, i just love it. 

Sunrise Over the End of the World by Sapphic_Futurist

Summary: When Dr. Strange arrives at an Accords Committee Meeting and warns of the coming of an alien megalomaniac set on destroying the world, the Rogues are pardoned and Tony finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be. Back at the Compound with Steve, who still can't take a hint and won't leave him alone.

--

In which Tony is broken and Steve finds redemption.

35k in 11 chapters, explicit, civil war fix-it up to infinity war 

Far Away And Long Ago by Ragdoll (Keshka) 💙

Summary: Steve steps into the past and discovers that hope held on a pedestal is as insubstantial as smoke. Then he sees Tony. And that's when things get complicated.

Full summary contained within.

18k in 4 chapters, mature, seems like abandoned WIP :( endgame fix-it au when steve returns the stones... 

Something More Than What They Are series by  Sapphic_Futurist

An exploration of love, denial and propensity for change.

38k in 4 works, explicit, Steve and Tony are married during the civil war madness but seems like their love is not enough to stop it from happening or reconciling T_T 

the marks you choose to leave behind by masterlokisev159

Summary: The Stane faction has been around for many years, long before Tony was bitten. And since he was forced, his life has been nothing short of misery and pain; a prison he will never escape. As a low member of the faction, his only hope at survival is to remain a loyal pet to Ezekiel. So when Ezekiel mentions the growing threat of the Avengers of the Undead, and the dreaded Captain, Tony is adamant to step up and do what he can. It’s also his last chance to see the outside world before he’s bonded to Whitney forever.

But what he finds instead is an unlikely companion with golden eyes. A strange werewolf by the name of Steve.

35k, general, vampire tony/werewolf steve, based on earth-666 

La La Love by Wordsplat

Summary: "To be perfectly clear, Tony always knew that Stephanie Rogers was the best thing that would ever happen to him."

4k words, teen up and audiences, female Steve, highschool au, awkward tony

Meet Your Heroes by Wordsplat

Summary:Tony gets rescued by a highly concerned, very handsy Captain America. This is confusing for a number of reasons.

4k words, identity porn AU, 

Hashtag Finally by Wordsplat 💙

Summary: Tony doesn't ever actually ask the Avengers to move into his house, steal his wifi, eat all his food, and become the best family he's ever known. They do it anyway.

15k, teen&up, domestic avengers a.k.a. tower life, hyperactive Clint lol, super cute, everyone are stony supporters

Thanks For the Memories by Wordsplat

Summary: When Tony is sent crashing-all too literally-into the 1940's by an alternate-universe Loki's spell, neither Tony nor Steve are prepared for the consequences.

9k words, time travel au, secret pining 

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Part 4 [Double Courage] & [New Game] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED!!! 

I decided to combine 2 parts into one post since 15-5 was short. Enjoy~

For the previous translation of Chapter 15: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

[Double Courage]

There was no sound of footsteps coming and going outside the door and I was the only one left in the empty utility room.

I know he is still outside. Looking at the closed door, I slowly stepped forward and lifted my head.

It suddenly occurred to me, when I first arrived at the hospital after hearing that Kiro had an accident.

At that time, he was also on the other side, refusing me.

I turned around, leaned against the door, and sat down. Soon, the sound of footsteps quietly leaving came to my ears.

I have to admit, I really can’t help him. I am not strong enough to make him feel more at ease.

People need to accept their own weaknesses and limitations in order to think about what they can do from their own perspective.

The whole space is quiet and my heart is surprisingly calm.

I closed my eyes and replayed all the scenes of my time with Kiro over and over again in my mind.

If I were Kiro, why would I need to use another identity while insisting on solving the problem alone?

If I was admitted to the hospital and refused to see anyone, it must be because there is a serious illness and I don’t know how to deal with others.

And I act alone because it may be dangerous and I don’t want to be dragged down by others or….

MC: Drag others down with me.

My brain is spinning so fast. I always feel that there is something that has constantly plagued me and I have come to a conclusion.

MC:…Kiro’s illness has not been cured?

So everything makes sense now.

From beginning to end, he never said why he was admitted into the hospital.

If he was attacked because of what he did, then he abandoned the identity of “Kiro” and acted under the identity of “Helios” which made it even more logical sense.

It is precisely because the illness has not been cured. He cannot expose his weakness but at the same time, he will also worry that he will be a burden to others because of this.

MC: Kiro, are you trying to be strong again?

Secretly covering up his wounds and then create an identity of another person to carry everything on his back.

But this shouldn’t be a world where only superheroes get hurt.

MC: Kilo, display location.

Following my instructions, an electronic map immediately laid out before my eyes. I looked towards the center of the map and was shocked.

Next to the little bear wearing a small flower is another bear.

Helios hasn’t left. He was just outside the door.

I remember coming in, passing by the fire control room.

I thought for a while, not worrying about it anymore, I reached out my hand and touched the head of the little bear that was close to me, as if I could the person behind it.

MC: Kiro, can you hear me?

As I expected, there was no response.

I carefully tapped the microphone on the collar twice and then muttered to myself.

MC: Kiro, I know you are there. You can just treat this as me talking to myself but listen to me, okay?

MC: I know that I am very small and there are many things I can’t do and can’t help much.

MC: I don’t think it is shameful to admit that I am weak, because I know where to move forward after realizing this.

MC: For example, right now I’m thinking, do I have to learn some hacking skills or any combat skills?

There was a vaguely violent cough outside the door and I couldn’t help but smile.

MC: I know you must have encountered something sad.

MC: I also know that I can’t help you with this. You are afraid that I will only worry more so you choose to stay away from me.

MC: But Kiro, do you know?

MC: Sometimes you are a coward and then you make yourself look strong.

Kiro:….MC

Kiro’s dull voice rang in my ears as if it came from the collar and also from the door behind him.

MC: Kiro, you don’t have to be so strong.

MC: Difficulty is like a giant beast with its teeth and claws bared. A little bear will inevitably be nervous and scared when facing it.

MC: But it doesn’t have to force itself to fight alone because if it were two bears, the courage would be doubled.

MC: The weapon to defeat the beast is often not any sharp knife, but the power of courage.

MC: My courage can be lent to you at any time.

There was a small voice and I knew he was listening to me carefully.

MC: I know you are working hard for everyone so I hope I can also help you in some way.

Next, I started to tell him all the information about the hunter game, Joker and the little boy I learned about.

Rather than watching him fight alone, I will accompany the superhero in my own way.

After Helios closed the door of the utility room, he took out the hidden mini computer from under the console of the fire control room.

This is his temporary stronghold. It is located in the center of the city so it is convenient for his system to scan the entire terrain of Loveland City.

After he hacked into the opponent’s map program and was kicked out, he came to a decision.

He wants to build a brand new system to replace the other party’s authority and control over Loveland.

He opened the program on the mini computer and took out another device.

After the device started up, a beam of light projected into the air, showing an unfinished 3D map.

He sat down and flicked his fingers quickly in the air and the program projected in the air began to change with his movements.

This is a program he developed overnight to scan a map of the city and it is more intuitive than a 2D map.

At the same time, he tried to hack into the opponent’s system again, only this time, he did not bother to snatch the program they made.

He just wants to use their system to master the information of all players and all supply points so that he can enter the next step of the plan.

He quickly worked out a plan to end the game, with every step interlocking. And the first step of all plans must be that she can stay safe.

He knows that once Kilo is enabled, his identity will be exposed to the girl.

But in such a chaotic situation, he can no longer consider that much to ensure her safety.

After finding her, his ecstatic mood made him temporarily forget the anxiety caused by those recent events.

He forgot for a while that Kiro is broken, lonely and silent.

When she heard that she was looking forward to meeting the healthy Kiro, he suddenly recovered.

He is no longer the same Kiro, at least not the Kiro she was expecting.

He still couldn’t stand in front of her as Kiro.

The girl’s voice chattered endlessly, but it made him calmer than ever.

When she said that she wanted to learn hacking techniques or combat skills, he couldn’t help but cough.

At that moment, he was sure that she was serious.

She said that he was a coward.

She said that he doesn’t need to be so strong.

Helios tapped his fingers on the keyboard and gradually stopped.

Never compromise, never give up.

He feels his heart slowly being peeled off. There is a force pushing him forward.

She was right. As long as she was by his side, he would gain great courage.

This courage can support him to do many things and make him feel even more strength.

And the information she brought was really helpful to him.

Although he had investigated some information long ago, some of it was the first time he had heard of it.

The name Joker and Evol may be the main messenger of the game and the boy who can provide teleportation for him.

The so-called “ghost” to “human” transmission is actually done by this young man.

He frowned and began to think about what changes his plan needed to make as a result.

Fast fingers flew over the keyboard again and a “beep” came from multiple devices at the same time.

He raised his eyebrows slightly and his eyes showed unstoppable sharpness.

After scanning the three-dimensional map of the city, the player’s information points have been fully entered, the locations of the supply points have been disclosed to him, and the girl’s location information has also been erased from the game.

Helios: This game is mine.

[New Game]

I leaned against the door and suddenly felt a vibration from my phone. When I picked it up, I found that the phone had a black screen.

Before I had a chance to restart it, the screen automatically lit up and then a line of words were displayed.

“Welcome to the new hunter game.”

New hunter game? I was stunned for a moment, before I realized what had happened, the word “hunter” was marked with a red “X” by the animation effect.

MC: Welcome to…..the new hunter game?”

The red animation effect keeps flashing on the screen, seeming to constantly emphasize the concept of “new game”.

Did Joker change the rules of the game? Why cross out the word “hunter”? What does he want to do?

Unsettling emotions came to my mind. I subconsciously wanted to call Helios but I heard a familiar voice come over the phone.

??: Now, the game management rights will be changed.

??: I hereby announce, the new game has officially started.

This voice….is Helios!

I looked at the phone in disbelief and saw the screen change along with his voice.

“Hunter Game Is Out”

Helios: All the rules of the hunter game are invalidated.

Helios: There is only one rule you have to abide by—“No harm to anyone.”

I looked at the big words “NO FIGHT” displayed on the screen and faintly guessed what Helios wanted to do.

Helios: The communication method will now be opened, allowing all players to establish contact.

Helios: The game system adds a help platform and anyone who needs assistance can upload coordinates.

Helios: The map resumes normal use and all supply points will be publicly marked.

When he released these rules, the signal of my mobile phone showed full frame synchronously; a dialog box for help also popped up on the screen.

Then the phone automatically opened a brand new Loveland City map which not only showed the locations of all supply points but also a panoramic 3D map.

Helios: But don’t be too happy. My game will only be harder.

Helios: All of you, still have to follow my rules.

His tone was blunt, as if he was really the master of the game.

I was a little puzzled. Helios is clearly helping everyone to restore peace in Loveland. Why is he deliberately being so cold?

Although the fog has not dissipated, he can directly announce the end of the game. Why would he go the other way and announce the new rules of the game?

At this time, the screen switched to the surveillance on the streets of Loveland City and Helios seemed to have set up thermal imaging technology to clearly see colorful figures on the screen.

After seeing the contents of the surveillance clearly, my eyes widened unexpectedly—

Many people still pushed and scrambled for the aerosol at the replenishment point, fighting hard, and the scene was chaotic.

It seems that the so-called “new game” and “new rules” are meaningless to them.

Faintly, I seem to understand something.

Even if the game itself is stripped away, some people will still be dominated by fear or some kind of temptation and continue to dwell in the cold-blooded fighting.

So is this also Helios’ consideration?

I looked back at the closed wooden door waiting for his answer.

Helios: If someone insists on going their own way and continue to compete for limited resources…

Helios: The aerosol that you’re competing for will be ineffective at the moment.

Before he finished his words, everyone on the screen seemed to be taken aback. Several people raised the aerosols in their hands and panicked.

Helios: This is my game.

Helios: If you don’t believe me, you can try it.

The picture automatically zoomed in and the aerosol in the person’s hand was clearly exposed---the aerosol valve was automatically opened.

The crowd seemed to have finally realized the existence of the new game and stood there facing each other.

This is the meaning of Helios building a new game—

If the game is announced directly, everyone will continue to compete for aerosol if the fog is not effectively resolved.

That’s why he created another image of the game controller and introduced new game rules.

The purpose is to establish authority, let everyone follow his instructions, and get out of the mindset of fighting in a more orderly manner.

Helios: If you want to live, you must act according to my rules.

Helios: All players will be divided into three levels and displayed on your mobile phone screens according to the length of the remaining survival time.

Helios: Sub-level players need to help emergency level players to obtain aerosol.

Helios: The more people you help, the higher the ranking will be.

Helios: The highest-ranked person can still get a generous bonus.

Helios: Remember, “you are the game itself.”

Helios: Looking forward to your wonderful performance.

Helios completely changed the rules of the game.

If it can be executed smoothly, it will make the hunter game lose its original meaning.

It turns out that this is his “own way” to solve the hunter game?

While sighing, I was also a little worried.

The current situation is undoubtedly a huge change for Joker. In order to take back control,  he will certainly not give up.

I was about to remind Helios to be vigilant but suddenly there was a slight noise outside the door. Helios opened the door in the next second.

Helios: Let’s go.

Helios: Someone has snuck in.

-End of Part 4-

Continue to Part 5 

[strangerays]

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover​ @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS: 

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

#1

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

#2

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

#1 

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

#1

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

#2

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

#3

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??)  in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.        

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

 “I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

:)

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

[agentrouka-blog]

@ ygritte hate post. In broad strokes, we agree Jon and Sansa are on parallel journeys, there is also plenty of parallels between Hound's sexual assault night with Jon and Ygritte (steel kiss, hand on face, and so on). (1/3)

Then Jon gets into it at the water pool, that is his "unkiss", no doubt. Notice though, the details about him getting riled up by sex red hair, she saying she is half-fish, debating fucking your own sister. I'm forgetting stuff of course. I'm sure that chapter is rife with that. (2/3)

Jonsa fans have speculated over Unkiss being a cover for another kiss (always with the cousins, the blood and fire cloak, and so forth). It could be that cave means much the same for him. Like said they are on parallel journeys and there's all those throwbacks to each other. (3/3)

So like Sansa, Jon is repressing something there. Something that happened in the winterfell pools. Bran remembers bathing with his sisters, but unlike Bran (who did saw OSHA getting out of one in that segment), Jon saw something that was a revelation. Like Florian when he saw Jonquil bathing with her sisters. Something red and then wanted to kiss, not downstairs but upstairs. Maybe he did... and maybe Ned caught him at it, because he later dreams of being caught there being innapropriate. (4/3)

In the dream he screams he will never father a abstard, he hates being one for they are lustful creatures born of lust and lies. Like lusting after their sisters. Its not like he is a Targaryen! Distraught, Jon decides to prove his nature wrong. He is not a deviant because he is a bastard lusting after his sister! So he decides to go to the Nights Watch, where he'll be chaste ever. Maybe. Kind of creepy but funny. It all comes together too, all those tidbits that are otherwise scattered. (5/3)

PS: Six maidens in the pool... Six Stark children. Not seven for once either way. And so Jon says in the show "we should have never left Winterfell" because it echoes the We shouldn't have left the cave. And Jon says they'll go back and Yggrite yaps You Know Nothing, but he was right. Jon will go back with the real redhead Sansa, back to Winterfell real pools. (6/3)

Thank you!! This ask really sent my brain whirring.

I already like the idea of the Unkiss drawing from a repressed memory, but I hadn’t noticed how the Ygritte memory-edit might interlock with that. 

We have this confirmation that they were fairly natural and relaxed about nudity among children:

"Might be there isn't." She grinned. "What are you staring at, boy? Never seen a woman before?"

"I have so." Bran had bathed with his sisters hundreds of times and he'd seen serving women in the hot pools too. Osha looked different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses. "You've got a lot of scars." (ACOK, Bran II) 

Hundreds of times. We know Sansa associated hot water in a bath with Winterfell. 

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

So does Jon:

It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Then we have the image of the Water Gardens.

It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer's day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day." (…) 

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. 

(ADWD, The Watcher)

And we know that the children of all ranks played together in the godswood, too. 

He had watched wistfully while the Walders contested with Turnip the cook's boy and Joseth's girls Bandy and Shyra. The Walders had decreed that Bran should be the judge and decide whether or not people had said "Mayhaps," but as soon as they started playing they forgot all about him.

The shouts and splashes soon drew others: Palla the kennel girl, Cayn's boy Calon, TomToo whose father Fat Tom had died with Bran's father at King's Landing. Before very long, every one of them was soaked and muddy. Palla was brown from head to heel, with moss in her hair, breathless from laughter. Bran had not heard so much laughing since the night the bloody raven came. (ACOK, Bran I)

It’s fair to conclude that the Jon and the Starklings may indeed have not just played but also bathed together in the godswood. 

There is an interesting association with Maidenpool, which is tied to the romance of Florian and Jonquil.

At Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.

Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ."

"What are you doing?" Brienne demanded.

"Singing. 'Six Maids in a Pool,' I'm sure you've heard it. And shy little maids they were, too. Rather like you. Though somewhat prettier, I'll warrant."

(ASOS, Jaime III)

Jonquil bathed with ther sisters, when Florian first glimpsed her.

The pool becomes filthy and spoiled. Like Sansa’s bathwater, but also like the muddy Winterfell pools. Choked with corpses?

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red.  (ASOS, Jon VI)

The memory edit and the switch toward “love” in the cave is mirrored in this rather defiant dream, that recalls the pools at home, his father’s watching face, but also the laughter at home in the godswood. A pool in a sacred place spoiled with death. 

A memory spoiled by trauma.

Dany, who I would argue is a character strongly foreshadowed in Ygritte, has her own association with sacred pools.

They rode to the lake the Dothraki called the Womb of the World, surrounded by a fringe of reeds, its water still and calm. A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.

The procession waited on the grassy shore as Dany stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked, she stepped gingerly into the water. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. The stallion's blood had dried on her hands and around her mouth. Dany cupped her fingers and lifted the sacred waters over her head, cleansing herself and the child inside her while the khal and the others looked on.  (AGOT, Daenerys V)

This recalls Ygritte in the pools and Sansa in her filthy bath. But the presence of the blood of a horse slaughtered for her to eat its heart, the presence of the Stallion that Mounts the World, the prophecy and the things we know comes after... all that is ominous and the kiss of the cold is unlikely to be tender. 

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

or..

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech. (ASOS, Jon I)

or...

Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The layers in this… 

Anyway, there’s foreshadowing to Dany in the Ygritte mess, but it’s not exactly happy, while the Sansa connections in there tend to be positive. Sweet and foul all mixed up.

Sansa “remembering” the Unkiss in relation to kissing children (Margaery’s Girls, Sweetrobin) and with “awful” memories (Myranda’s wedding night)  has that same air of mixing something rotten with something that had been perhaps sweet but confusing. I.e. covering a traumatic event with something else. 

Then there’s another interesting association with the incest peach.

As she sat in the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing "Six Maids in a Pool." The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. "I bet this is a brothel," she whispered to Gendry.

 (ASOS, Arya V)

Right after this they meet Gendry’s half-sister Bella, a “peach” at the Peach.

“I’m named Bella,” the girl told Gendry. “For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?”

“No,” he said gruffly.

“I bet you do.” She ran a hand along his arm. “I don’t cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lightning lord.”

“No, I said.” Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night. 

Bella turned to Arya. “Don’t he like girls?”

While the bell recalls Dany, we should remember that 

Sansa plays “the high harp and the bells” (AGOT, Arya I) 

“Bella” translates to Beauty 

this scene is an unsubtle shout-out to Jon stalking out of the welcoming feast after Benjen teased him about fathering bastards and knowing a woman. After calling Sansa radiant. (AGOT, Jon I) 

So the Dany hints are joined by the Sansa hints. The Dany hints are negative (bells = battle), the Sansa ones positive (bells = music). Why are the Sansa hints there at all?

Before anyone goes “Jonrya!”, remember:

For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . ."

"She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be." (ASOS, Arya V)

Arya is not a peach, she is a sister. Little sister. 

And there’s this:

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all.  (AGOT, Bran II)

Jon only tastes the cold when silver-haired Val tastes sweetness in the air, but way up high the winter peach makes the air taste sweet, too. 

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." (ACOK, Daenerys II)

But foul smells might cover sweet ones, too. The Unkiss covers a bitter trauma, but perhaps it was drawn from a more innocent kiss in the past.

The naked red-haired girl by the water might trigger a rewrite of Jon’s perception of Ygritte, but it might draw that from a different kind of confusion, surrounding the same memories that feed Sansa’s editing.

The godswood is certainly a stage for kissing:

As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr.

She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been — she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. (…)

Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have.  (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

Memories that flood back, young children, innocent games that have consequences much later on, a specific Connection drawn to the Starklings and the Winterfell godswood.

More kissing:

 "I won't! I saw you kissing in the snow. She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

and yet more...

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself. Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Starklings, kissing and the hot springs all in a paragraph.

I would say there is material here. If GRRM wants to write about Sansa and Jon sharing a memory that involves the hot springs, kissing and references to Florian and Jonquil, he will have planted the hints. It would certainly be a bit poetic if both of them used the same memory soup to create their trauma responses.

**

Before anyone tries to accuse me of hypocrisy when it comes to age gaps, abuse etc. I do not think this was a case of Jon perving on his young sister. Cat was 12 when she played kissing games with a much younger Petyr and Lysa, and I don’t think we are supposed to consider this a threesome. It’s child’s play. That’s my angle here. 

[icharchivist]

I hope you don't mind but can i ask what you suggest the order of doing things is??

Like... what order should I do the Primarch weapons, Eternal recruitment and Evoker recruitment in?

heyo!

I don't mind at all but i just hope i'll be clear enough ^^"

i huh, got a little long

EDIT: OK editted what i needed to edit about character class’s weapons off you go!

The Seraphic are your first priority outside of building a grid. Easy. Those will give you a major boost in your grids and you will always keep them in your grids, so get them as soon as you can and focus on them. You will get level-gated eventually since to go further into grinding you'll need to have access to raid only unlockable after lvl 101, so take it one step at a time, but they are your main priority. (note that the story for the Light and Dark Seraphic will spoil wmtsb pt2 and 3 a bit)

Eternal recruitment is tedious but i would recommend, especially as a beginner, to maybe think about doing Threo and/or Tien (Three Tigger Axe and Ten Wolf Gun respectively) as early as you can. They're godsends for beginners, Thero with her plain damage which will basically kill any enemies in front of her making her easier for farming (especially Slim blasting), and Tien with her formidable Bounty that will allow you for more loots per fight. Both are really good early investment. It's okay to take your time with them (i personally only have 3 - Threo, Tien and Seox), especially since it gets more complicated if you take the uncapping into account.

(also note that you should keep as many of the dupes for the Revenant weapons as you can aside from the one you will need to uncap to get the Eternal. uncapping to 5* isn’t a concern to have right now but know that this process involves using 40 Revenant Weapons on top of the one you forged. It’s good to have a stash dedicated to keeping them and leave them aside until you’re ready)

Evokers.... *looks at the state of my Evokers grinding* ahah what is that ahahahahaha....

Okay so Evokers are especially tedious so it's a complicated one. I think the early steps from unlocking their respective summons should be easy and their summons bring a major boost, so it may be good to try to work onto it a little. That said the Evokers take a lot of mats and later on mats from Impossible raids, so it will take a lot of time to unlock them. BUT you should also account for the Arcarum tickets. Since you cannot keep more than 90 tickets, it means that you may be more limited in your ability to farm Arcarum-only mats. And boy will you want to farm those well because they're really hard to get and takes a lot of diligence to get. The thing i've been told is to focus on them one at the time, or do them by pair: for exemple when grinding for The Sun you will be also doing some Hanged Man's raids and get Hanged Man's loot, so you can do both The Sun and The Hanged Man at once.

Not to mention that Arcarum can drop weapons you'd else get in the Omega raids, such as lumi swords and such, which is a good investment. However you would need to have a grid that can stand on its own because you don't have access to friends' summons in there, not to mention the restriction you may find in there (ex: quests that you can only do with R characters)

Out of those three grinds, the Evokers are the most tedious ones to get and it's okay to take your time. It's good to not neglect the Arcarum (i say as i ignore my own advice), but it shouldn't be your utmost priority.

If i may, what is accessible early and that you should focus on is getting the Atma sword and the Bahamut dagger from the What makes the sky blue sidestories.

wmtsb, being anniversary events, gave out a lot of BIG rewards that are game changing. Mostly, the possibility to pick a Bahamut Weapons from wmtsb1 and an Atma weapon from wmtsb3.

Bahamut weapons give a boost on attack or health but only to characters from specific races. Dagger gives a boost in attack to human and Erune, which are the majority of characters in the game, so the best investment you can make. Note that to push the dagger to its full power you will have to forge it further in the shop. Then it will be a must have in your grids (it's also often recommanded to +99 mark on it if you can)

Atma weapons give a major boost on attack depending on the character's weapon specificity. So for exemple the Atma sword will give a boost in attack for any characters who are shown to wield a sword on their profile. Sword is the most common weapon in the game, thus it is recommanded to take an Atma Sword as a beginner and slap it in any grids in which you mostly use sword characters for (and this is where it will start to be interesting to make sure to build teams by weapon's proefficiency, ie, in this case, making sure to mostly have sword characters as your offence) As for Bahamut the Atma will ask for more forging in the shop, i don't remember if there's any nor the specific for when it's an Atma, but there is an option to turn the Atma into an Ultima but only with HL raids, so don't worry too much about that.

Also i'm checking but it should be from Zooey's normal raid, if you can access to The Grand Order raid (normal) you should try to peak into it until you can unlock at least the Cosmo Sword from the shop. Cosmo weapons that you will find in Zooey's raid will basically multiply weapons of the same proefficiency 's HP and Attack that are in your grid. Basically: if your grid is mostly swords, slapping a Cosmo Sword in your grid will tremendously multiply your power. Cosmo Sword are a must have for light especially, since the ideal Light Grid includes 1) The Lumi swords, 2) the Xeno Sunblade, 3) later on HL, the Sword Opus.

I have heard that it is not wise to invest in other Cosmo weapons because of the fact grids rarely benefit for it, but Light (and Fire once you unlock the Impo raids) benefit a lot from the Cosmo Sword. You won't be able to 4* it until you can unlock HL tho.

BUT only focus on Cosmic sword if you have the grid to back it up (again: a full Lumi sword set up for exemple in light)

Another thing since i mentioned it: Keep an eye out for the Xeno events.

The other must-have in a grid is the Xeno weapons, which are only available when Xeno events are up. Xeno tends to run every few months before Unit and Fight and they are limited events with limited drops that are essential to forge a Xeno weapon. Xeno influence your grid tremendously and can be accessed at early levels. Wind Xeno should get a rerun soonish since the next Unit and Fight is around the corner, so keep an eye out for it.

(Opus is HL concern so it's not something to worry about just now but that will be another must have once you unlock Lucilius's HL raid)

EDIT: Another thing you should focus on as you get close to level 101 is to forge one of the weapon linked to a character class from Special: Rank II. 

You will need to have forged any of the weapons from Rank II to later being able to unlock any class from Rank IV. Rank IV is unlockable after lvl 101, and after doing one mission per class, but it is necessary to first unlock them to forge that weapon

or so i was told at least DLKFJD With recommandation to focus either on Glorybringer, Doctor, Kengo or Rising Force, due to their specific kitset that are super useful. 

So my advice is:

1) focus on your grid by getting multiple weapons of the omega series (Respectively: Colo Cane, Levi Dagger, Yggy Sword, Tiamat Gun, Lumi Swords, Celeste Claw. Note that your Lumi Swords will still be in your grid on HL so this is the thing you must invest the most on. It's often not recommanded to uncap the starting weapons's 5* since you'll replace them the moment you get into HL bosses, but Lumi swords are where you can go ham)

2) at the same time as your grids, work on your Seraphic. Go as far as you can to unlock your Seraphic

3) Do wmtsb as soon as possible: it takes reaching chapter 44 of the main story, but it will give you 2 super important must have weapons: The Atma Sword and the Bahamut Dagger. And it's easy to get them, no tedious grinding, except for forging the Bahamut weapon further but it is something you can do on low level

4) Focus on Xeno anytime a Xeno event is up

5) For the Eternals, take them one by one, do not rush, and if you want to work on them, focus either on Threo or Tien first

6) you can think about the Cosmic Sword if you feel like it though it's not a priority

7) The Evokers take a lot, lot, lot of time and grind that is in HL only, so don't rush through it, but it is wise to not let your tickets reach its cap so you can grind efficiently.

I hope it's not too confusing, if there's anything that needs clarification don't hesitate to ask. I know gbf can be a little complicated and sometimes i can get so focused on HL content that i miss out some better ways to explain LL content

Hope it helps out!

Take care!